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Authors: Mary B. Morrison

BOOK: Never Again Once More
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Tenderly, he turned her onto her stomach. Jada’s now favorite fragrance—tropical-scented shea butter—filled the air. Lawrence had ordered it from Sacred Thoughts across the country in Jersey City, New Jersey. Shondalon RaMin knew exactly how to mix the cherries, berries, and fruits into a delectable blend.
Lawrence’s hands traveled from the arch in her back up her spine to her hairline. Penetrating her, his head maneuvered in and out. The softer he rubbed, the deeper he traveled. Occasionally, he blew air over her back. His chest and stomach flattened against her vertebrae, while sweat dripped onto her face.
Jada thrust against his movement, wrapping her insides around his shaft. With each downward motion, the pace quickened to squishing perspiration. Lawrence plunged so far his penis slipped into her cul-de-sac. Attempting to prolong their orgasms, Jada used her vaginal muscles and pushed down so hard she almost ejected Lawrence completely. Tightly, he embraced her shoulders, holding her virtually motionless while he rotated along her spot.
Panting, Jada said, “Oh, damn, baby, I can’t hold back anymore.” The thickness of her secretions liquefied as their orgasms combined.
“Sssshh.” Lawrence instinctively moved in tempo to her beat. Nature’s fluids abundantly flowed. After Jada was one hundred percent satisfied, Lawrence tossed the wet pillows on the floor.
The last moment Jada remembered before dozing in her husband’s arms was Lawrence delicately running his fingers through the wetness of her hairs.
In the beginning, Lawrence expressed pleasure whenever Wellington spent quality time with Darius, thereby providing Lawrence more time with his firm. But immediately after they had married, he didn’t want another man around his wife and stepson, so he made himself available and took Darius to Texas when visiting Ashlee and Ashley. Lawrence and his ex-wife became friendly again, while Darius and Ashlee ultimately became best friends.
Sometimes a woman had to let a man be manly, but Jada knew Lawrence had no power over her relationship with Wellington. Hell, she couldn’t deny the truth. She didn’t have any control her damn self. Wellington still made her spirit dance every time she saw him. Why couldn’t she erase those feelings?
Chapter 12
W
atching his mother marry Lawrence was saddening. Why couldn’t
his
parents get married and the three of them live happily ever after together? Why did they have him out of wedlock, birthing him into this world a bastard? Technically, he was an illegitimate child. Sometimes he wished he’d never been born.
Darius could neither understand nor forget how Wellington had shown the audacity to punch him in the chest for almost ruining his mother’s wedding. Ashlee had received a spanking from her mother. They only ran away to the guesthouse for two days. Actually they had a pretty good time sharing scary stories, drinking apple cider, and catching bugs for pets. Darius had concluded his dad was taking out his frustrations on him, since Wellington had been in town and hadn’t shown up at the wedding or the reception.
Darius tied his basketball shoe and shot his orange sponge ball into the plastic hoop mounted on his bedroom wall.
Jada yelled from the foyer, “Darius, your game starts in ninety minutes, sweetie. We’ve got to go!”
Yeah. Yeah. Darius dunked the ball and watched the orange rim flutter so fast it left shadows in its tracks. Glancing in the mirror, he admired his fresh twists. Maybe growing dreads would be easier and less time consuming. “I’m coming, Mom.” If his mother had to call him twice, she’d lecture him all the way to the gym, and at the age of fifteen, he’d heard every speech his mom had at least ten times over.
Lawrence was a good guy and all. He bought Darius’s mom flowers and candy and showered both of them with gifts and trips for no reason. Lawrence didn’t miss many of his games, and he played escort to and from practice whenever he had time. Lawrence even shot the ball with him and helped to perfect his skills. But Darius couldn’t wait until he got his driver’s permit. His mom had reneged on letting him get it as one of his birthday presents this year. His urgency was predicated on the fact that California was considering raising the legal age limit to get a permit from fifteen to eighteen.
Lawrence and Mom never argued; at least he’d never heard them. And Lawrence had bought the family season tickets for the Lakers’ games just because Darius had asked. His sisterfriend, Ashlee, was jealous because Lawrence had seldom made time for her and her mom when they were a family. But Lawrence’s generosity couldn’t replace Darius’s love and need to reside with his own father.
Darius’s average was ninety percent from the free throw line and eighty percent as a three-point shooter, and though he didn’t play the number one position of point guard, he called all of the shots on the court. Hopefully, his leadership abilities would increase his chances of going to the NBA. At six-foot-five he prayed he’d grow at least another three inches to increase his possibility of being drafted into the pros on the first round. This was his ninth year playing CYO, but he preferred AAU because the kids were tougher, the referees didn’t call as many fouls, and the girls that came to the games were finer than the Catholic school girls—like his future prep girlfriend Maxine. Today was AAU.
Closing his door so his mother wouldn’t see the mess he’d created in his room, Darius grabbed his NCAA basketball and dribbled to the front door.
“Darius Jones!” his mother shouted.
When he got to the door, his mother gave him “the look,” so he spun the ball on his pointing finger. Once outside, he dribbled in the driveway while she got the car from the garage. They already had a gymnasium; but Lawrence had bought him an expensive outdoor goal, so all of Darius’s friends came to his house on the weekends to shoot hoops.
Darius hopped in the back of the car and dropped his ball between his feet. Shuffling it side to side, he asked, “Is Dad coming to my game?” He already knew the answer. He just needed to occasionally remind Lawrence that he couldn’t replace Wellington. He knew Lawrence made his mother happy, but didn’t anyone care about his feelings? Evidently not, since they had been together over ten years and never asked. He realized his situation could have been worse, because Lawrence could have been a jerk.
“Yes, sweetie. He’ll be there,” Jada answered.
Darius liked that his mom still called him sweetie. “You think he can come over for dinner afterward?” Darius was pushing his luck, but why should he be considerate of them?
His mom glanced at his image on her front windshield. That meant she’d had enough of the questions. “We’ll see. Just concentrate on mentally preparing for your championship game.”
Darius loved his mom’s new car, but with the new projector, she could watch his every move without turning around. If it were a weekday, he could say, “
Oprah
’s on,” and his mother would instruct her voice command to change to channel seven. He flipped up the cover of the screen on the back of his mother’s headrest and popped in the DVD music video
Area Codes
by Ludicrous. In a way that was how he was already living, because every trip he’d taken over the past year he’d met a new female. And if an opportunity was presented, he sexed her, too. Shanté had permed him on his fourteenth birthday, so Darius was no longer a virgin. Shanté was a preacher’s daughter, so his mom trusted her to come up to his bedroom. As soon as his mom put the car in park, Darius turned off his video.
“Open doors,” Jada voice commanded, and all four doors opened automatically. Darius waited, then got out. His mother went ballistic if he unlocked the door while the car was in drive or the engine was still running. “I’ll see you guys inside.”
Darius strolled past the snack bar and into the gymnasium. The head coach signaled for him to come join his teammates. Coach yelled so much Darius had become immune. He liked coach’s rule that all ballers had to wear a suit and tie to and from each game. Darius’s black designer suit made him feel like a professional player. Shanté made him feel that way, too, giving it up whenever he asked or offering when he didn’t ask.
“Hurry up and get over here, Jones!” Coach gave the same speech each game, and although Darius appeared distracted, he listened intently. Paying attention to details and working really hard was why his coach had made him captain. Most of the time Darius scanned the bleachers; he was looking for Wellington, checking out the honeys, and sizing up the scrubs he was getting ready to whip up on. He spotted his dad and waved. If his dad showed up late, Darius had to work harder to concentrate on his game.
Nobody understood his frustrations, because he never complained. Whining was for sissies and females, so he released his anger on his opponents during his games. In a few years, he’d be on his own. Instead of feeling special, he felt odd being the only player with three parents in the bleachers. His dads usually sat with his mom seated in the middle. They expected material items to compensate for his happiness. In fact, he used to give CDs and video games to teammates whose parents couldn’t afford them. He even gave away his PlayStation2 and asked Lawrence to buy him another one.
“Hey, Darius.” That was one of his ladybugs giving him a shout out.
Coach would bench him in a heartbeat if he answered. Huddled in a circle, Darius led his team, “Dragons on three. One. Two. Three.”
The whole team yelled, “Dragons!”
During the game, Darius earned each of his four fouls and the championship three-point shot that sealed the lead. The crowd went wild cheering with excitement. That was another reason he preferred AAU. The fans weren’t quiet like at Catholic high school games. AAU fans, especially the ladybugs, let a player know right away when he’d messed up.
Darius’s teammates and Wellington paraded him on their shoulders. But the best ride he could remember was the last one he got from Wellington when he was ten. Riding high on his dad’s shoulders had made him feel like King Darius. Suddenly, all the players lowered him to the floor and swarmed around this giant man handing out autographs.
Darius followed pursuit. “I’ll be right back, Dad.” He raced over to the pack. Running back to his mom, Darius was so excited he could hardly speak. “I—I—I need a piece of paper. Quick. Darryl Williams is signing autographs.” Although Darryl Williams had hung up his jersey a few seasons ago, he was still one of Darius’s all-time favorite ballers.
Jada frantically fumbled through her purse, then handed Darius a credit card receipt and a pen. “Here, honey.”
Darius zoomed over to the crowd. When he stood before Darryl, Darryl asked, “Where’s your uniform?”
Darius was speechless, but rumbled to dig his cover-up out of his bag. Darryl signed it and said, “I’ve got my eyes on you, DJ. You keep ballin’ like that and I’ll make sure you get a scholarship and starting position at GT.” Then he handed Darius back his shirt.
Darius raced back to his parents and said, “Man, that was the highlight of my day. Darryl Williams autographed my uniform! Mom, you’re going to have to pay for this.”
“Pay for what, sweetie?”
“The uniform. I can’t give it back. Darryl Williams signed my uniform! And he said if I keep on playing like I’m playing, I can start for him at Georgetown.” Darius handed his mom back her receipt and ink pen. “Just imagine if he were my dad. I could be six-nine or taller!”
Chapter 13
S
ix feet, seven inches, seventeen years old, and college bound, Darius packed his bags, preparing to travel east. He had accepted the four-year full scholarship to attend Georgetown University in Washington, D.C. His mother had tried convincing him to go to Duke, but his visit to Duke’s campus didn’t measure up to Georgetown. Ashlee chose Spelman, and his high school sweetheart, Maxine, stayed local and enrolled at the University of California at Los Angeles.
Darius had declined his mother’s offer to host a going away party, knowing she wouldn’t throw the type of party he wanted and include his boys from Compton. His mother would send invitations to her family, friends, Lawrence’s relatives, and of course, Ashlee and Maxine. Boring like all of his teenage birthday parties. No freaks. No DJ. His last three birthdays she’d played Lawrence’s horrid classical music and called it culture. Darius called it torture.
Inventorying his bag, Jada asked, “Darius, are you
sure
you’ve packed everything?”
“For the fourth time, Mother, yes, I’m sure.” Darius closed his suitcase.
His dad didn’t approve of him piercing either ear, but his mom supported his decision. She also bought his diamond studs. His dad also didn’t care for the dreadlocks he wore, and his mother said they were stylish as long as he kept them neat. As he’d gotten older, his parents seldom shared the same view, so Darius usually got whatever he wanted.
“Jada, you have to let the boy grow up. He’s going to college,” Wellington said, sitting at the foot of Darius’s bed. “He’ll be fine.”
Jada folded her arms. “I’m not babying him. I just don’t want him calling back asking me to send whatever it is he’s going to forget.”
“Then, don’t send it. He’ll manage without,” Wellington said.
“Yeah, Dad’s right. I’ll manage,” Darius said, hoisting his bulldog sweatpants over his waistline because his dad started staring at his boxers. The taste of independence was on the tip of his tongue.
Jada sighed. “Darius has never lived on his own, and he’s moving so far away.”
“And? So?” Wellington said. “The sooner he learns to take care of himself, the better. Otherwise, he’ll be living with you the rest of his life.”
“Fine.” Mom threw her hands in the air and blinked her teary eyes. “I’ll be in the living room with Lawrence. Darius, let us know when you’re ready to go to the airport.”
“Have a seat, son,” Wellington said.
Darius spun his computer chair around and sat with his elbows on his knees. “What’s up?”
“Son, your mother is happy and sad. But college is different from high school. Your biggest challenge will be time management. I know you; you’ll try to make every party. Hang out late. Get up early. Be the star athlete. And have women in and out of your dorm.” Gesturing like a referee signaling no basket, Wellington said, “Don’t do it. Don’t waste your time or the school’s money. Stay focused.”
Grown-ups must have thought teenagers were brain dead or something. “I’ve got my schedule all figured out, Pops.”
“Yeah, right, and you haven’t even got there yet. That’s what I’m talking about. It’s easy to get off to a bad start, and if you do, you’ll spend the entire semester trying to catch up. You’ve got to stay ahead of everything. Study. Practice. Tests. Everything.”
He’d forgotten to mention females. “Y’all worry too much. Chill out like Lawrence. He’s the only one not sweatin’ me.”
“I’m your father. Don’t expect me to chill out, ever,” Wellington said. “I’ll call you tonight.” His dad slapped him on the back and said, “Let’s get going.”
Great. Darius was traveling alone by request. What was all the fuss about? He could handle himself.
Since only ticketed passengers were allowed past security, Darius said his goodbyes at curbside. His mother was in tears, so he swiftly disappeared beyond the sliding glass doors.
How did he get a quiet, nerdy bookworm for a roommate and teammate? If they got the same classes, maybe his new friend could cover his assignments while he roamed Wisconsin Avenue. Darius loved the colonial-style buildings in Georgetown and how the stores and restaurants were open late at night.
The first month was a breeze. Frat parties. Drinking. Basketball practice. No games. And lots of females. The greatest thrill and disappointment of freshman year was his head coach, Darryl Williams. If he was late for practice, Coach wouldn’t let him start. How could he bench his number one fan and best player? Wellington had come to several games, but Darius never saw his mother or Lawrence in the stands. Damn, she’d cried at the airport, but the only time he saw her was when he went home on holidays. Obviously, they couldn’t wait to get rid of him. That was cool, because he didn’t want them to see him bench warming. At the end of the season, Wellington gave him the “I told you so” speech about too much partying.
Forget them. Darius spent spring break in Miami by himself. Florida was on point with lots of beaches and chicks in bikinis. By the end of his freshman year, Darius had lost his starting position. Early in the season scouts were checking him out, but after losing his starting spot to his nerdy roommate, Darius decided to ride out the remainder of his scholarship stomping with his frats, the Omegas.

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