Single Husbands (21 page)

Shit.
She was better off keeping the dysfunctional husband she had. At least she knew about Herschel’s son. Suddenly Nikki cried
out loud, “I might be carrying Lexington’s baby! Oh, hell no! This child will never see the light of day.” She angrily paced
the floor. “No way in hell would I have my child begging for his father to be man enough to show up at his or her high-school
graduation.”

Nikki yelled at her reflection in the mirror, “Fuck you, Lexington! You will never taste my pussy again! Pick your fucking
suitcase up downstairs!”

Two seconds later, Lexington called her. Nikki refused to answer.

Her phone beeped with a message.
Nikki, please. I need to explain. It wasn’t my fault. I do support him. Didn’t you hear him say his mother gets their check?
Lexington texted.

Him? He has your fucking name! He’s your damn son!

I’m sitting downstairs. I came to New Orleans just to see you. Please come down and get me and I promise I’ll tell you anything
you want to know.

Marching back and forth in her suite, Nikki was confused. What if Lexington did have a justifiable reason? Even if he didn’t,
she deserved an explanation. Who was his son’s mother? Did she know the woman? Did they go to high school together?

He texted again,
I am going to his graduation.

Don’t try to impress me. What’s up with the word “his”? You act like he’s somebody else’s child that you’re sponsoring,
Nikki fired back, wishing that were the case, but the child was a younger replica of Lexington and even had locks down his
back.

You’re right. That’s why I need you in my life. You tell me exactly what I need to hear. Baby, please. Come get me. The doormen
are staring at me.

Fine,
Nikki texted back.
But only if you tell me everything and I mean everything.
This might be her last opportunity to search Lexington’s eyes, and his heart, for the truth.

I promise,
he replied.

Nikki texted,
Meet me at the elevators.

Nikki reluctantly met Lexington downstairs, then escorted him to her suite. “Leave your bag in the foyer. You might not be
here that long. Let’s sit in the living room,” she demanded.

“Whatever you say,” Lexington agreed.

Damn those twins.
Crossing her arms underneath her aching nipples, Nikki flatly said, “I’m listening.”

“Don’t get upset, but I have three kids outside my marriage. I was young, dumb, and full of cum. But I’ve always provided
for each of my kids and their mothers. I bought them houses and cars. I pay their bills every month.”

Nikki’s lips tightened. “Three? So you have five kids?”

“I have five well-provided-for kids. And if you’re having my baby, I’m going to be there for you, every step of our pregnancy.”

“When did you have these kids? Why didn’t I know about them? Who are the mothers? It’d better not be somebody I know. As much
as I want a child, there’s no way in hell I’d have a baby for you.”

Lexington held her hand, then said, “Don’t say that, Nikki. We’ve been together practically all our lives. We belong together.
You don’t think I ask every woman to marry me, do you?”

Nikki stood, tugged her dress over her head, stepped out of her thong, then said, “Shut up and fuck me.”

Lexington’s mouth opened.

“Close your damn mouth. I said, ‘Shut up and fuck me.’ Don’t say another word.”

Nikki decided she would utilize Lexington for what he was worth. A good fuck.

Walking through the double doors into the bedroom, Nikki said, “Lay your ass down.”

Straddling Lexington, she snatched his dick, plunged it inside her wet pussy, and started bucking him raw. “Is this what you
want? Pussy motherfucker,” she said, slamming her pussy on his big dick. “Then that’s what the fuck I’ma give you. This is
my
dick!” Nikki yelled. “Say it, motherfucker. Whose dick is this?”

“N-Nikki’s,” Lexington stuttered as his body flopped against the mattress like an inflatable doll.

“I can’t fucking hear you. Say it louder.”

“Nikki, please. What are you doing? I’m not Herschel. Stop it, baby, please.”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?” Nikki said, grinding on Lexington’s dick. “Don’t tell me what the fuck to do. I’m
running this bitch tonight.”

Nikki showed no mercy. She was angry with him. How dare Lexington not tell her about all his fucking babies? “Stroke my clit,
goddamn it.”

His finger bounced on and off her shaft, attempting to keep pace with her frantic rhythm.

“That’s not it, motherfucker. I said stroke my clit, not my lips,” Nikki insisted.

This time, he found her spot and held his hand there.

“Don’t fucking move. I’m coming. Oh, yeah. That’s it, you lying-ass bitch,” Nikki said.

Conceding, Lexington flopped his hand to the bed.

Nikki got off him, stared down, then said, “Get the fuck outta my room.”

His eyes drooped, but she didn’t care. He was the one who didn’t care enough about her to tell her the truth. Whoever his
son’s mother was, she’d obviously done an incredible job without Lexington. The same as Donna had done with his daughters.

Shaking her head, Nikki could only ask him, “Why?”

Lexington didn’t respond. He stood, turning his back to her. Nikki stared at the striped bloodstains on the sheet, then at
his back.
Oh, my God. Who did that to you?

Pulling up his pants, Lexington walked toward the living room. Nikki stared at his back, ran into the bathroom, leaned over
the toilet, and started throwing up. One minute later, she heard
Click.

The door had closed, Lexington was gone—probably for good—and in that moment, she prayed she wasn’t pregnant with his child.

W
ill golf for group sex.

Hanging out with his boys was going to get wild and crazy. Brian welcomed a change of pace—an explosion of testosterone among
men in the same house for two consecutive days without their wives. Yes, indeed. Maybe Brian could confess the weird shit
that had happened to him with Zahra and Carmelita and get some feedback from his boys Lexington and Herschel.

Brian packed his suitcase: golfer’s hats, shoes, polo shirts, socks, underwear, and swim trunks. His underwear and swim trunks
were sexy and new, so he stuffed them at the bottom of his suitcase. He placed his designer golf clubs at the door for the
driver to put in the car. He zipped up his suitcase, stood it on the four wheels, and placed it at the door.

“Brian, you seem awfully happy.”

Oh, shit.
He was trying to get out of the house before Michelle’s mother showed up to pick up the kids. “Hey, you’re looking good,”
Brian said, kissing her cheek.

“Not nearly as good as you. Where’s Michelle?” she asked, perusing his luggage like she was a TSA employee.

“You want to see my passport too?” he asked.

“That won’t be necessary. I’ve got your number,” she said. “Go get my grandbabies for me.”

What did she mean by that?
Gladly,
he thought, trotting upstairs. “Michelle, your mother is here,” Brian yelled from the top of the stairs. “Let’s go, kids.
Grandma is here.”

“I don’t want to go with her. I want to go by Grandma and Grandpa Flaw,” BJ protested.

“Next week, I promise,” Brian said. “Now get your overnight bags.”

“Daddy, why is it called an overnight bag if we’re staying two night
s
?” his daughter asked, emphasizing the
s
.

“Good question. Ask your mother,” he said, ushering them along.

Kissing his wife, Brian said, “Baby, I’ll call you as soon as my plane lands in Atlanta. Take good care of your sister, BJ.
And you, young lady, make sure you listen to your big brother.” Looking at Michelle’s mom, Brian said, “If you need anything—”

She interrupted, “I’ll call my happily married daughter.”

“Mother, stop it. Why do you give my husband such a hard time? I love my Brian,” Michelle said. “Have fun, baby, you deserve
it.”

“Thanks, honey,” Brian said, kissing his wife. “Good-bye. I love you too, baby.”

Hurrying out the door, settling in the backseat of the limo, Brian’s driver stopped by Herschel’s mansion. Herschel was standing
in the doorway, waiting. The driver loaded his bags in the car. They made one final stop in front of Lexington’s place. Donna
was in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

“Why you think she wears those hideous slippers?” Herschel asked.

“Better his wife than mine,” Brian said. “I’d throw those things out.”

“I’m sure he’d rather throw her out,” Herschel said. “That’s my boy. Hell, sometimes I want to put Nikki out.”

“Nigga, you don’t make enough to put Nikki out. What you mean is sometimes you want to pack your shit and get out, because
your ass always gets left out. Damn, Nikki invites us to more events than she tells you about. You fucked up when you proposed.
She hasn’t invited you to a taping of her show since she married your ass,” Brian said.

“Whatever. Until she grows a dick, I’m the man in my house,” Herschel countered.

“You right.
In,
not
of,
” Brian said.

“Chill with all that, B. The minute Lexington gets in this car, no more mentioning of our wives,” Herschel reminded him.

“I might have to break the rules, man,” Brian said.

“Not you, Mr. Get Smart. Do I detect trouble in power couple paradise?”

“Never that,” Brian said.

Tap. Tap.

“What the hell?” Herschel said, looking out the window.

Lexington was stooping outside the limousine door. “Open the door, man.”

Brian opened the door and Lexington crawled in. “Nigga, this gives ‘creeping’ a whole new meaning.”

“Close the door and drive off,” Lexington said.

“Fuck you, Lexington! You sneaky bastard,” Donna yelled, running toward the car.

“Let’s go,” Brian instructed the driver.

Lexington sat in the seat across from them. Brian and Herschel burst out laughing.

“I told you what you need to do, man,” Brian said, laughing.

“That shit ain’t funny, man. Donna has lost her damn mind. Stop by my office so I can get my luggage,” Lexington said, pouring
himself a drink.

“Pour one for everybody, man, so we can toast,” Herschel said.

Lexington handed Brian and Herschel each a glass half-filled with silver tequila.

Brian announced, “A toast… to single husbands.”

“I’ll toast to that,” Herschel said.

“For sho’,” Lexington agreed.

“And I’m drinking to y’all because I’m very merrily married and in love,” Brian added.

“Yeah, but what about Michelle? I bet you’re so busy, you wouldn’t notice she’s fucking around too,” Lexington said.

“Don’t go there, Peter Cottontail,” Brian said, bending his wrists like the ears on Donna’s slippers. “Sorry about that shit,
man. No more talk about our wives for real.”

A knot formed in Brian’s intestines. He hated the thought of any man penetrating his wife. Lexington had better not be dropping
hints that he fucked Michelle. This weekend was supposed to be fun, so Brian opted for a double shot of tequila to wash away
any negativity brewing in his mind.

Two drinks later, they checked in at First Class at the ticketing counter, retrieved their boarding passes, cleared security,
and headed straight to the bar… for more alcohol.

“Let me have a Loose Goose, with pineapple and a splash of coconut rum,” Brian said, chilling at the bar with the intent of
getting his heads bad before they arrived in “Hotlanta.”

Quietly Brian sipped on his nice, cold martini, watching the fine Puerto Rican women stroll by. “That’s what’s up right there,”
he said.

This was their seventh annual “ball out of control” single husbands’ bash. The shit they were getting ready to do! “Ou, wee!”
Herschel said, interlocking his thumb with Lexington’s, gripping his fist tight, then bumping shoulders.

“Don’t leave me out,” Brian said, bumping chests with Lexington, then Herschel, as though they were all in the end zone and
had scored the winning touchdown.

“You ready, B?” Lexington asked Brian. “Hit me with a double Patrón Silver. It’s on,” Lexington told the bartender. “This
vodka ain’t getting it.”

“Make that double a deuce,” Herschel said, joining in.

They all stood, shuffled their feet, danced at the bar, then laughed like they were single men in college headed to Summerfest.

“Who we got, Lex man?” Herschel asked.

“Y’all ain’t ready,” Lexington said, smiling and covering his mouth.

Brian nodded his head, then said, “Hit me with your best.”

“Don’t worry, B. I hooked your ass up real sweet with double-dipping, white-chocolate, big-tittied, long-blond-haired, exotic
babes from”—Lexington paused—“Rio. And not to worry, they’re not identical, so you won’t break your rule. How’s that?”

Lexington was always on point. Brian smiled his approval. “You in the wrong profession, nigga—”

Herschel interrupted, “What about me?”

“Let’s see… how about a big booty, tiny waist, triple-D, dark-skinned, down-to-earth, plus-sized sistah that can tie
a knot in a cherry stem.”

Herschel frowned. “That’s cool, but who else I got, man.”

“You mean
what
else.” Lexington held up his hand, downed his double, then said, “With her pussy.”

Herschel’s eyes widened to the size of fifty-cent pieces. “Don’t play. You the shit for that one, man.”

Brian asked Lexington, “What your ass got?”

“That, my man, you have to see to believe, ’cause if I told you, you’d swear I was lying,” Lexington said, crossing his feet
at the ankles, spinning in a complete circle. “If I could clone them into life-sized blow-up dolls, I’d put Donna’s ass out
of my bed permanently. I’d get better results and the dolls wouldn’t talk back.”

Brian and Herschel held out their hands at the same time.

“Whateva, niggas. So now our policy is in place?” Lexington said, reaching in his pocket and removing a roll of hundred-dollar
bills. He gave $100 to Brian and $100 to Herschel.