Hot Boyz (38 page)

“You did a great job, Mason.”

“Thanks, Cedes.”

“Mason?” asked Mercedes. Her curly hair was flowing along the pale yellow pillowcase.

“Yes?” he said, stepping out of his pants and underwear, tossing them onto the settee.

“Come to bed. Now.” Mercedes threw the covers back and exposed her totally nude, curvy body, awaiting upon the satin sheets. Without hesitation, he crawled in and lay down next to her. She pulled the covers up over them both and hugged Mason as he climbed on top, mounting his wife with an enormous erection. She parted her legs to accept him. Slow and steady, he eased himself inside of her, sliding in and out to her moistness, as his breathing deepened and their hearts beat in tune. She whimpered and shuddered as he entered her soul, while he felt her throbbing walls envelop him. She held him tight, inside and out. Their words remained hushed as she kissed his lips and closed her eyes, while feeling him all through her from head to toe. Their lips danced the entire time, as they spread their arms to each side and grasped each other’s hands, interlocking fingers and squeezing tight to the groove of their syncopated bodies. Their rhythms were in synch.

That night, Mason and Mercedes enjoyed a night of lovemaking and expressing their love for each other without a word being said.

Mercedes found herself pulsating intensely, contracting into her peak, while Mason felt her rumble coming on, giving him permission
to join her. He released his love and she accepted, unconditionally. They lay there for the night. Mercedes was amazed that her mind did not race. The only people in her bed and in her mind were her and Mason. She let out a deep breath and fell asleep, underneath her husband.

The Sunday before Thanksgiving, Claude and Cameron rode along the streets of Ladera. This time Cameron was driving the car that was soon to be his.

Cameron seemed to be in a good mood. “Dad, I made the basketball team. Varsity.”

“Congratulations, son. Is that what you want? To play basketball?”

“Yes. I’ve just got skills, I guess.”

“Okay, so I guess you do.” Claude chuckled for a split second. He then decided now was as good a time as any to have a one-on-one about a more serious topic. “Son, are you okay with not knowing who your real dad is?”

“Yes. Why do you ask that?”

“It’s just that I can’t imagine what it must be like for you to not know.”

“I do know, Dad. You’re my real father.”

Claude looked over and smiled. “Wow, that makes me feel real good, son.”

“Well, it’s true. You adopted me when Mom died. You’ve been my parent.” Cameron made a lane change.

“I just want you to know that… It’s just that I can’t imagine what it must feel like for you to be without your mother and then knowing that you’ve never… never met your real dad.”

“Like I said, you’re the realest a dad could be.”

He smiled again. “But, you never wonder about whether or not you have any brothers and sisters?”

Cameron fidgeted with the radio, turning it down as he made the turn.

“Not so far, Dad.”

Claude let it go, allowing Cameron to concentrate.

Cameron pulled up into the Holy Cross cemetery. It was November 23, the anniversary of Fatima’s death and Claude’s birthday. Cameron parked Fatima’s Lexus along the curb, parallel to the row of plots near her graveside.

Claude watched Cameron’s every move. From the moment he put the car in park to the moment he turned off the ignition. What a shame, he thought, that this young man he called son, has no idea that his own father killed his mother. Claude was startled from his deep thought.

“Dad, I think that’s Venus, isn’t it?” Cameron aimed his index finger toward the hill near his mom’s gravesite.

“Yes, son. It is.” They exited the car and walked over toward Venus who was arranging a few bunches of clove pink carnations in the graveside vase.

“Hey, Venus. How are you?” Cameron hugged her warmly.

Venus looked sleep deprived. She wore an old pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. “I’m good, Cameron. How are you?”

“I’m okay. Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“I’m much better, Cameron. Thanks for asking. Hey, Claude.”

Claude put his hand on her back. “Hello, Venus. It’s good to see you. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I’m about to leave actually. I’ve been here for a little while.”

Cameron looked around. “Where’s your car?”

“I sold it, Cam. It was acting up. I’d gotten tired of that bulky SUV anyway.”

“Which one is yours?” asked Claude.

She bowed her head toward the car in front of Cameron’s. “That Corvette over there. I just wanted a two-seater. Something fast. Plus I got a job at Make-A-Wish,” she said, almost expecting Claude to react negatively.

He remarked, “You got a job already?”

“Yes.”

“Why so soon?”

“Why not? I needed something to occupy my time. You know how much having a purpose is important to me.”

“With me, you surely didn’t need the money, Venus.”

“It’s not about the money. And considering everything…” She stopped herself.

He looked at her new car. “You’re going to need to pay for that new ride so I suppose it’s a good thing. I know the payments have got to be steep.”

She did not reply.

He spoke nicely. “That’s a real nice car. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Silence took over the air.

Cameron broke the uneasiness with a question. “Are you going to be able to make it to dinner today at Auntie Mercedes and Uncle Mason’s house? All of the guys are cooking,” he told her with excitement.

“Oh, really? I don’t think so. I’m going to go back to my dad’s apartment and hang out with him and his new girlfriend.”

“Dad has a new woman, huh?” Claude asked.

“Yes, some pretty young thing he met at the Club Post on Slauson Boulevard. My dad, the player,” Venus said as if it was old hat.

Claude smiled. “Tell him I said hello.”

“I will.”

“Venus, we miss you,” Claude admitted, sounding as though it was uncomfortable. “Like I said in my messages, things just aren’t the same without you.”

Cameron told his stepmother, “He’s right, Venus.”

“Thanks for saying that, Claude. And you too, Cameron. That’s nice to know.”

“Did you get the flowers I sent you yesterday.”

“Yes, I did. They were very beautiful. And I got your messages. I just… well, thank you.”

“You know what they say. Sometimes you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone,” Claude disclosed.

“How well do we know that,” she said, glancing at Fatima’s headstone. “But for now, I think it’s best that we all sit back and take the time we didn’t take before. Just to think about the decisions we’ve made. We’ll always have Fatima in common. But maybe her shoes were just a bit too big for me to fill.”

“No one expected you to fill them,” Claude told her.

“Just fill in, huh?”

“Not even that.”

Venus glanced over at the Lexus and noticed the letters TIMA on his license plate. She looked back at Claude and Cameron. “I’m going to go now. You two take care and tell everyone I said hello.” She offered a happy face.

Claude spoke up. “We will. But if you change your mind, we’d love to have you over to the house today. Bring your dad and his girlfriend, too. Will you think about it?”

“I’ll think about it, Claude.”

“Good-bye, Venus. Take care,” said Cameron, throwing his arms around her with a bear hug. “Te amo,” he said in her ear.

She paused in the middle of returning his embrace. “Wow, that’s nice, Cameron. I love you, too.” She waited for the lump in her throat to subside. She swallowed and fanned her face with her hand. She looked toward Claude. “You take care now.”

“See you later, I hope,” Claude said as if it were a question.

“Good-bye, Claude,” she said without even a handshake. She turned toward her car. “And happy birthday,” she said from the corner of her mouth without glancing back his way.

“Thanks,” he replied, wondering how she could wish him to be happy when she was walking away from him and Cameron.

She walked down the slight hill toward her new ride, taking careful steps, looking back at her ex-men, while they stared back at her. Her mind raced.

She strained to focus upon them through the slight buildup of wetness forming in her eyes and blew out a forced exhale while opening the car door. She got inside and closed the door. Venus sat for a few minutes, placing her left hand on the door handle, looking back toward Fatima’s gravesite. She then turned the ignition,
put her banana yellow sports car in first gear and drove off.

Claude watched as she drove away. “That was my wife, son. That was me wife Fatima wanted for me. And I’ve let her get away.”

Cameron looked his dad’s way. “Dad, I’m sorry if I had anything to do with it.”

“You didn’t. It was just too much for her to handle.”

They turned toward Fatima’s grave and knelt together, closing their eyes and praying in silence, hearing the Corvette purring its way down the winding hill. Cameron opened his eyes, noticing two tiny branches from the shady tree near his knee. He handed one to his dad. They each formed the stems into the shape of a heart and placed it on the headstone. They continued to kneel in silence.

Back at Mason’s house, it was Real Men Cook Day and the guys were gathered in the kitchen. There was an aroma of a combination of nutmeg and smoked turkey circulating in the air.

“Torino, you should have seen my boy out there yesterday,” Mason said. “Rashaad, go get that trophy and show your uncle.”

“Okay, Dad,” Rashaad said, rushing through the kitchen door to his room, doing about eighty.

“He seems pretty happy today,” Torino commented, slicing the smoked turkey.

“My son left everybody in the dust with his game.” Rashaad walked back though the door holding a golden, three-foot-tall loving cup with a ten-inch golfer at the top in mid-swing.

Torino looked impressed. “Dang, that thing is almost as big as you are. That’s a huge trophy for a high school tournament.”

“Yep.”

“When are you gonna start getting paid?” Torino asked.

Rashaad replied, looking full, of anticipation, “As soon as I enter in the junior tournament early next year.”

Mason added, “My boy is on his way.”

“Like father, like son,” said Torino, looking at Mason after turning down the oven.

“I want Rashaad to be just like himself, not trying to be like anybody—right, son?”

“Right, Dad.”

“Congratulations, Rashaad. I guess it runs in the family,” Torino added.

“I guess so,” he said, placing the enormous trophy on the kitchen sink.

Torino stopped him. “Now hold up. Take that nice, big trophy on out of here. We’re not gonna have any place to put all of these dishes if that monster takes up half the kitchen.”

“Oh, Uncle Torino, it’s not that big.”

“He’s right, Rashaad. Take it into the living room so everyone can see it. Plus it won’t get all smudged up,” said Mason.

“Oh, okay, Dad. I’ll just put it in the case with all of yours.”

“Okay, son.”

“And come right back so you can finish helping out,” Torino warned him.

“I will.”

An hour later, Mason, Torino, and Rashaad were nearly done with dinner preparations when Claude and Cameron arrived through the side kitchen door.

Torino was the supervisor. “You two need to get on in here and help us with the corn bread and potato salad. We set those aside for you. Where have you guys been?”

“We stopped at the cemetery and then by my dad’s office. What goes in potato salad other than potatoes?”

“Just follow this recipe.” Torino had printed out an Internet recipe for Patti Labelle’s potato salad.

Cameron took the recipe in hand and stood at the counter. “What is celery seed?”

“A seasoning, boy. Everything is right here. And all of the potatoes are done already.” Torino handed Cameron a knife.

“How do I cut them?” Cameron asked.

Mason told him, “Small cubes should work. Shoot, just slice and dice and whatever happens, happens.”

Torino picked up the box of corn-bread mix. “This is all that’s left after the potato salad. I can make this in my sleep.”

Claude was not impressed. “It’s just a couple of boxes of Jiffy. Any fool could make that.”

“Fool that I am, I’ll tell you how to hook it up. Just get me some honey and butter. And oh yes, you add a package of yellow cake mix.”

Mason remarked. “I guess you were watching when Mom would cook after all.”

Claude looked suspicious after eyeballing the spread. “You know you guys had all that meat catered from Aunt Kizzy’s restaurant. Who are you trying to fool?”

Cameron laughed.

“We’ve been up all night cooking it ourselves. We excuse your absence,” Torino commented.

Claude took a seat at the kitchen table. “Man, I can’t tell you what has been going through my head lately. Venus is all I can think about.”

“We saw her at the cemetery a minute ago,” Cameron told them.

“That must have been awkward. Is she going to be able to make it?” Mason asked.

“She’s cooking for her dad at his house,” Claude said.

“Yeah, right. Her dad, huh?” Torino said snidely.

“What are you trying to say, Tito?” Claude was ready for his brother.

“Nothing. I just know that Venus isn’t gonna be out there long. Somebody’s gonna scoop her up fast, man. I say you’d better pull out your big guns.”

Mason added, “Yeah, a bunch of big gifts would do it. Buy her as much stuff as you can, and make sure one of the packages has a big old diamond in it. And I mean a big diamond in this case.”

“Venus isn’t like that,” Cameron said, while slicing up the last couple of potatoes. “I don’t think any of that would work with her. If you ask me she likes to give more than receive anyway.” He spoke as if he were the Venus expert.

Mason asked, “So you and Venus have been cool, huh Cam?”

“Yeah, Venus is all right. She tried real hard.”

“I know she did. But some things are just not meant to be,” said Torino.

“I don’t know about all of that. But life is funny, though,” Claude responded. “One day you’re taking a happy home for granted and the next you’re looking back, appreciating all that you had.”