Heard It All Before (18 page)

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Authors: Michele Grant

BOOK: Heard It All Before
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Here we were at the club, and whatcha think was the first thing he did? Goes and grabs Miss Jewel from right under my arm and waltzes her out on the dance floor. I wasn't one to play that shit. I'd've called him on it, too, but he'd been jocking every girl in the joint, even Stace. So I said to myself,
Okay, Rome, chill. Brother just activating his little player card, nothing personal.
Now I look up during the last little step he cut with Miss Jewel, and what did I see? His hand wandering a little farther south than needs be. Some negroes just made you act a damn fool. Now here I had to go handle business.
Soon as they came off the floor, I grabbed Miss Jewel, went back on the floor, and wrapped her tight. Soon as she relaxed against me, I leaned down and let her know, “Okay, so you either put him in check or I'ma shut it down for you.”
“He's just trying to stir up something. If he comes around again, I'll back him down, big boy.” She smiled up at me.
“Um-hmm, 'cause I'm done with the nonsense now.” I just wanted to be clear. Like I said, not possessive but I had my limits.
Miss Jewel tilted her head back and laughed. “That your way of saying you've had all you can stands and you can't stands no more, Popeye?” She slid her hand around to the nape of my neck and started doing a little tickling thing she knew gets to me every time ... every damn time.
Forgot what I was kinda pissy about and grinned down at her. “You tryin' to start a li'l somethin' somethin' out here, Miss Jewel?” I slid my hands down to her hips.
She arched her back some and looked up at me through her lashes. “And what if I am?” She slid a hand up my thigh. This was one of the little things I really dug about Miss Jewel—she came across all proper and serious, but truly, baby had a wild side! Always teasing, playing, and joking. I never knew when she would just break loose with something semiscandalous. I liked that.
“Oh, you wanna play now, huh?” Damn some Patrick. Started thinking it was really time to rise up outta here so me and baby could have a party of our own.
“Ready, willing, and able, player.” Hey, I didn't have to be asked twice. As I was scouting quick escape routes to the parking lot, she leaned forward and kissed—naw, licked—down the side of my neck and back up.
Oh, it was on. It suddenly occurred to me that Miss Jewel had imbibed a few glasses of bubbly. I began to wonder how many. 'Cause, Miss Jewel was kinda reserved in public. She didn't like to draw too much attention, wasn't really one to advertise her relationships. A little hand-holding, a peck on the cheek. Pretty much minded her own and expected everyone else to do the same. So imagine my surprise when the beat picked up and Miss Jewel took a step back, threw her hands over her head, and commenced to jammin'.
“Seriously?” I asked her with a smile. Were we getting down like THAT tonight?
She flung her head back and smiled. “Seriously.”
Not her regular style of dancing, which was more like a sedate Sade sway with a neck bop. Naw, Miss Jewel was cutting loose. The song was Ludacris's “Money Maker,” and she was doing it justice. She stepped to me, turned around, backed her butt up against me, and shimmied all the way down to the ground. Hot damn, did she just drop it like it's hot?
She turned and went to bumping and grinding on me. She tossed her hair, threw that chest out, and looked straight at me. “Can you keep up, player?” Well, hell. What was a man to do? I grabbed her hips and we started rocking.
“Get it, girl!” Keisha came out on the dance floor with Arthur, quickly going into her video-girl mode—not PG-13. Jewel and I stopped for a second to watch before getting back into it. Arthur was actually keeping up, which was no small feat. Considering Keisha had called him a “limey cracker” earlier in the night, they seemed to be getting along real well. Arthur was a lot more down than Ollie, who was sitting in the corner sucking on another beer. Nothing says classy like getting quietly sloshed at your prewedding party.
Patrick came out on the floor with Stacie, and if I were Oliver, I'da ganked his ass. I thought Jewel and I were gettin' a little nasty, but it was nothing compared to Stace and Pat. They were downright raunchy. I never knew little Stace had it in her. She did some move where she kicked her thigh up while gyrating her hips forward.
Jewel snickered. “Oh my!”
Renee came out with Greg, took one look at everyone, and leaned over to Jewel. “You all right, girl?” She started doing a quiet little side step. Yeah, right.
Jewel grinned at her and turned her head back to me. “Renee ain't foolin' no damn body—she's about the wildest dancer you've ever seen. Skipping and jumping all over the place with that ass stuck way out. I guess she's trying to hide her wilder side from Gregory.”
I looked as Greg put his arms out on either side of Renee and started to rocking up against her. “Greg's got her number.”
“Oh yeah? ‘Shake, shake what ya mama gave ya.' ” Jewel was singing along to the music.
I thought I'd sing a verse too. “ ‘You lookin' good in them jeans. Bet you'd look even better with me in between ...' ” Granted, the lyrics weren't Shakespeare, but the beat was slamming.
“Is that right?” She sent me one of my favorite smiles. The one that says it was about to be on and popping.
The song changed to an old Jay-Z tune, so we kept dancing. For an uptown girl, she got some ghetto taste in music. We danced the next three before they played something random, and we headed back to the table. I threw an arm around Jewel as we sat down. “We leaving soon, babe?”
She swigged the last of the champagne in her glass and smiled at me. Leaning toward me, she whispered in my ear, “Got somewhere else you'd rather be?”
Times like this when I just wanna wrap this girl up, take her home, and never let her out. I tipped her head up and dropped a swift kiss on her lips. “Yeah, definitely got somewhere else I'd like to be.”
She pulled my head back down and laid one on me. We were still going after it when Renee and Greg came back.
“Hey, black people, get a room!” Renee said.
That girl sure knew how to spoil a moment.
Jewel pulled her head back and smiled. “Romeo and I are ... Wait a minute, what's the phrase? We 'bout to rise up outta here.” I grinned down at her, she was so cute when she was trying to be hip.
Renee's eyes went wide. “You can't leave now. The bride is still here. You're the maid of honor. We need to stay with Stacie! And God knows, someone's gotta watch her.”
I started to say something, but Jewel put a hand on my arm. “Damn, Renee. She's got a fiancé, an older brother, and quite a few friends here; she can do without me for the rest of the night.”
“Oh, and he can't?” Renee motioned to me. She had a real funky-assed habit of talking about me as if I wasn't two feet from her fake ass.
Again, I wanted to say something. This wasn't the first time that Renee's raggedy 'tude got on my nerves. Greg must've sensed that I was getting ready to get on that ass, 'cause he looked at me and spoke up. “Ray, baby, chill out. Let a black man and a black woman be in love, huh?”
She spun around to look at him. “But, Greg, she's the maid of—”
He looked her straight in the eye. “Ray, sit down and leave it.”
She sat. I ain't lying—my mouth fell open. So did Jewellen's. We both looked at Gregory with a new respect. He winked at us and sat down, offering Renee a glass of champagne as he dropped an arm around her.
“He's got her ass in check and on lockdown, don't he? That's what I'm talking about. Handle your woman, bruh!” Aaron said from the table behind us.
I winced. I may have thought it, I might even have applauded it in my mind, but would I have
ever
uttered the words aloud? Hell, no.
Jewellen and Roni Mae turned to Aaron at the same time and said, “What did you say?”
Poor Aaron sat, trapped by the angry beams of their glares. I tried to look as invisible as possible. Times like this when women turned on men as a species. I was trying to disassociate.
“What did he say?” Renee tried to jump on the bandwagon. She was ignored.
Roni Mae went off. “See, that's why I've 'bout had it with yo' triflin' ass, Aaron Paris. What kinda shitty thing is that to say? To think? Like you tryin' to keep somebody in check round here? You tryin' to run somethin'? You think
your
sorry ass got
me
in lockdown?” Ah hell, some shit was about to jump off.
Aaron looked nervous. “Veronica, don't front. Chill 'til we get home, babe. And we'll talk about it there.”
“The hell we will.” Roni Mae got up and dug some keys out of her purse. She looked at Jewel and Renee. “I'm out. One of y'all see that Mouth Almighty gets a ride to his own damn apartment.” She looked out toward the dance floor, then over to Oliver. “And, Oliver, could ya please put that damn beer down, get off ya apathetic ass, and peel ya fiancée off ya groomsman?”
Oliver jumped and looked up to see that Stace was indeed wrapped around Patrick. Like I said, beatdown would have been in full effect twenty minutes ago. He walked over to the edge of the dance floor with his beer still in his hand.
“Roni—” Aaron started, but she threw a hand out.
“Do not go there with me, boy. Later.” She rolled outta there in no time.
“Let's shuffle, doll,” I told Jewel, and she nodded.
“Renee, do something about that.” She waved a hand toward her ex and the bride- and groom-tobe. They were all in heated discussion in the middle of the joint. I noticed that Patrick still had an arm around Stacie. See? Just wrong.
“Later, G.” I shook hands with Gregory as we walked past. “Renee.” I nodded politely. Madere raised me well, as I truly wanted to shoot her the finger.
Jewel and I waved at Tammy, who was off in the corner with some dude she just met. When we walked outside, I grabbed Jewel's hand and sighed. “Glad to be outta there, baby. Bad shit was fittin' ta happen.”
She nodded. “Ain't it the truth?”
We strolled in silence for a minute before coming to a standstill. Leaning all up against my car were Keisha and Arthur. Had their tongues deep in each other's throats. Hands all over unmentionable parts. “Ain't this some raggedy shit?” I muttered to Jewellen. Jungle fever all over the damn place. Folks wilding out in public places.
“Hey, wanna ease up there for a minute?” I raised my voice.
Arthur lifted his head. “Oh my God.” He was gasping for breath, and his face was bright red.
“He can't do nuthin for ya right now, Artie. You and the fly girl carry that on to another car so Miss Jewel and I can roll on to the crib.” Arthur took Keisha's hand and started dragging her away.
Keisha looked at Jewel. “Girl, don't tell no one whatcha seen, swear?”
Jewel shrugged. “Shit, girl, I'm not your mother. You've been over twenty-one for a while now, huh?”
“I mean it, girl. I'll never hear the end of it.”
Jewel looked at Arthur, who wasn't about to let go of his newfound chocolate treat. “Whatever, girl. Go on and handle your business like you want.”
“Yeah, but—”
I had to nip all this in the bud. “We got shit to do. Y'all keep it real. Let's move.” I damn near lifted Miss Jewel into the Pathfinder.
“Tomorrow at one, your place?” Keisha called.
“Yeah!” Jewel said as I slammed the door shut. I started the car and backed out of the lot quickly. “You're driving like a man with an agenda, Romeo.”
“ ‘Shake ya money maker like somebody 'bout ta pay ya ...' ” I reminded her of the Ludacris lyrics with a little grin.
“We're gonna have to do more than that, player.” She was working that tone of voice.
I almost ran a red light. “Oh, yeah?”
“Might have to break out some props.” She grinned.
My foot got real heavy on the accelerator.
16
Holy Wedlock, Batman!
Jewel—Saturday, August 14, 3:08 p.m.
 
 
Y
ou know how in a movie you get a sense of impending doom? That feeling that something was about to go horribly, terribly wrong? I glanced around and felt the tickle of unease again. A director could not have set the scene better.
Suspense was building as Stacie refused to tell anyone what happened between her, Patrick, and Oliver last night. Today, she was quiet, subdued, and ill at ease. Beyond a terse, “Let's do the damn thing,” she hadn't had much to say. Personally, I think that approaching your wedding with a let's-do-the-damn-thing attitude was less than optimistic, but I was keeping my mouth shut.
Renee had been cheerful to the point of annoying, Roni Mae was practically catatonic with depression, Keisha seemed more nervous than the bride, and Tammy was Tammy, gleefully sharing the details of last night's conquest with anyone who would listen. Unfortunately, the only person listening was little Marie. This weekend alone will probably scar the child for life.
As for me, I'd like nothing better than to forget this whole wedding thing and go home. Hey, sister girl was in need of some serious nap time. Roman and I might have topped our personal best as far as the sexual frolicking scorecard went. True, I had been a bit tipsy, but, really, that just added to the experience. Came home, put my old-school Chante Moore's “Sexy Thang” on repeat, lit some candles around the living room, and had a funky good time. Last I thing I could remember, he carried my limp body out of the shower at around 3:00 a.m. That boy could do things that I never ...
Sorry, off track. I was explaining the scene here. The first thing I should have said was that while I was doing all this thinking, I was standing in the vestibule watching everyone walk down the aisle. Arthur and I were set to go next, then Stacie and her trifling father. I hated to speak ill of anyone's folks, but he had been argumentative, hardheaded, bitter, and difficult from the day I met him over twenty years ago. Sad to say, today was no different.
The rain that let up a little last night was back with a vengeance. So strange for August, when we're usually begging for rain. Didn't I read somewhere that rain on your wedding day was like God crying for you or something?
I've always had this fairy tale in my head of what my wedding day would be like. Simple, elegant, everyone smiling and happy. Sprays of flowers. Me in a beautiful dress with some beautiful groom at my side. Family and friends welled up with joy. Sunshine beaming in—you know, that whole Cinderella-glass-slipper thing Disney messed up our heads with. Looking around—this wasn't it.
Anyway, it was my turn. I turned to Arthur and smiled. Since I saw him plastered against Keisha last night, we've been real at ease with each other today. He was a good-looking guy, a little pale but tall and well built, with curly black hair and the same little British accent that Oliver has, however, on him, it sounds natural, not affected. You would think I didn't like Oliver. Well, shit, I kinda didn't but if he was what Stace wanted ... Actually, that wasn't even it. Basically, it wasn't going to be me waking up next to his plastic, superficial ass, and it was way too late to change Stacie's mind. I was a friend to the bitter end, damn it. As she so eagerly said not so long ago—let's do the damn thing.
Okay, we're walking. I looked up the aisle and saw Roman grinning like I was walking for his entertainment purposes solely. I grinned back. He winked and mouthed, “You go, girl.” Straight stupid, just as crazy as a loon. Just the other day, I was thinking that he might just be it for me. Yes, IT. Could be the One. Let me put it like this: If he's not IT, I really don't know what it is. Sorry, my mind keeps wandering!
I turned, stepped into place, and looked. Music cued up. Audience rose to feet. Bride entered. Audience oohs and aahs. She did look gorgeous. Was it normal for her to be shaking like a leaf? So much so that she looked ready to pass out. Residual hangover maybe? I looked over at Oliver. He looked pretty sickly too. She stopped before him and a loud ominous clap of thunder rolled above, shaking the church. I was waiting for the creepy organ music to pipe in. Jesus, was this happily ever after or a horror flick?
I glanced over at Roman. He smirked and shook his head. Reverend Moss cleared his throat. Did I mention the good rev was sick? Caught some cold bug and had been wheezing and sniffling all over the place. Before the rev could instruct the father of the bride, Stace's dad lifted Stace's arm and shoved it at Oliver before stepping back to his pew.
“Lord have mercy,” Renee muttered behind me, and I had to resist kicking her.
Reverend Moss frowned, coughed, and began. “Friends, we are gathered together in the sight of God and man to witness and bless the joining of Stacie and ...
achoo!
Oliver in Christian marriage. The covenant of marriage was established by God, who created us male and female for each other ...”
I tuned him out. I had been to so many weddings, I could recite the ceremony verbatim. This was my second time as maid of honor, though. First time was for my sister. Now, she and her husband had a “love thing” if ever there was such a thing, and they still struggle to make it work.
That was probably one of the reasons why I was so concerned about this marriage. If I really thought it was the best thing for Stacie, I'd be overjoyed. But I've seen marriages fall apart that had a whole lot more going for them than these two.
And that whole Patrick thing last night? Unbelievable. When Patrick came back to Texas, he hit the ground running in dogged pursuit of me. But Roman was no dummy. I don't know how he did it, but I've been so wrapped up in him, I couldn't think straight, let alone think of any other guy. Didn't really even want to. Why blow a good thing? The grass was
not
always greener. Particularly grass I had already trod upon.
When Pat saw that it was nothing doing, he slipped into this “good friend” role. Fine by me. Of course, Roman didn't like it, but what could he do what with Jaquenetta popping up like the proverbial bad penny every time I turned around? I've spent some quality time with Chase, making sure he understood that I wasn't a threat to his time with his dad. Not trying to take his mom's place but hopefully establishing a role that balanced friendship and authority. But try and explain it to Jaquenetta's threatened ass. It was worse than trying to talk Stacie out of marrying this joker.
I wanted to say that last night and all the soap-opera-like shit that went down was just a wild and rare episode with everyone overindulging in champagne and overcome with prewedding jitters. But I still had this feeling. And it didn't bode well at all.
“In the name of God, I, Oliver, take you, Stacie, to be my wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part. This is my solemn vow.”
All eyes turned to Stacie. In a shaky voice, she repeated her vows. The pastor signaled me and Arthur to step forward with the rings.
“These rings are the outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace, signifying to us the union between Jesus Christ and his church.”
Stacie and Oliver swapped rings with more vows and walked over to the unity candle. Oliver picked his up and it went out. Stacie lit his with hers, and they lit the big one in the middle. When they turned to come back, thunder rolled again, a blue-white streak of lightning zagged directly over the church, and the air went still, then thick, humid, and staticky. An angry thunderclap boomed, shaking the entire structure and rattling stained-glass windows and wall hangings. The large middle candle tumbled off the holder onto the carpet. Renee gasped audibly as we stood watching.
The meager flame must've brushed a flower petal on the way to the ground, because the entire silk arrangement of white roses and purple irises was blazing. Naturally, a flame-ridden flower fell to the carpet where the candle wax was pooling and ignited another fire. In fascination and horror, we all stood and watched the fire jump onto the long train of Stacie's gown. Funny how you never think of flame-proofing a wedding gown until an instant such as this.
“Stacie, look out!” I managed to gasp out.
She whirled around as the fire swept up the train. She screamed and started spinning around in circles. Which only caused the material to wrap around her, bringing the flames closer. The audience saw the bride running around like a Roman candle and commenced to shrieking and panicking. Gregory was closest to her, so he threw her on the ground and started stomping on the dress and rolling her around. Roman ran to take care of the sparking flowers, and Patrick grabbed the urns of ceremonial water and starting dousing her with them. Oliver stood there with his mouth open.
Stacie looked up at me from the floor with wet hair falling into her eyes, her veil askew and charred, and her dripping train wrapped around her. Our dazed eyes met for a brief eternity before I saw it coming. I snickered, couldn't help it. She put her head down before throwing it back to roar with laughter. After a brief moment, when I was sure everyone thought we were crazy, quite a few people joined in. The reverend shifted from foot to foot, torn between concern for Stacie and concern over his scorched pulpit area.
“Have you ever seen the like?” Roni Mae asked me.
I tried to answer but I was still laughing. Finally, Stacie put a hand out. It was Patrick who helped her up. She flashed him a charming smile, despite the circumstances. “Thanks, Trick.” My eyebrows flew up. Trick? I shot Tricky Rick a narrow-eyed look and he shrugged.
Stacie unraveled the train, brushed her hair out of her eyes, and faced Oliver. She smirked at him. I knew the smirk—it meant trouble.
“Are you okay?” he asked belatedly.
“Peachy.” She rolled her eyes. She looked down at the band on her finger and pulled it off. “Here, baby, this ain't gonna happen.”
A collective gasp from the audience. Sighs of relief from the bridesmaids. Grunts of disgust from the groomsmen. Muttered prayers from the pastor.
“Stacie Ann!” Her mom was flabbergasted.
“Mom, God sent me floods, a burning bush, and baptism by fire and water. Do I really need another sign?”
I giggled again. It did sound downright biblical.
“I say, what God has put asunder, let no man join together.” She laughed. “But I do feel in the mood for a party.” She looked at me and raised a brow.
I stepped forward, reading her mind. “No need for all that food and entertainment to go to waste. Why don't we all go over to the Westin and celebrate the ... uh ... the ... ah ...” I looked at Stacie.
“The first day of the rest of my life.” She snatched the veil off and tossed it to her mom. “Save that for me, will you, Mother?” She put an arm out for Patrick. “Trick, shall we?”
She recessed out with Patrick, and I followed with Roman. Renee and Gregory were fast on our heels. Would you believe that the sun was shining when we stepped outside? Yeah, I thought you would.

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