Single Husbands (24 page)

“Herschel,” she called out again.

The breeze blew into her bedroom, pushing her head back against the pillow. “This is too much,” Nikki said. “I’m sick again.
I’m too tired to get up.” She suppressed her urge to regurgitate all over the bed. After Lexington had left her hotel room,
she’d emptied the contents of her wet bar into her stomach. Vodka. Gin. Tequila. Wine, red and white.

The pain of knowing Lexington over half of her lifetime, and he hadn’t mentioned his son or his two other daughters once,
wounded her. Nikki prayed she suffered from a terrible hangover and wasn’t pregnant.

“Herschel! You hear me calling you! Ouch.” Nikki pressed her palms against her temples.

Herschel was gone. She hadn’t spoken with Lexington since her return from New Orleans. How could he propose to her, then not
call her? Where in the hell were they? How did she get to and from the airports to her bed?

The bedroom clock displayed 8:00.

Nikki’s cell phone rang. Clipping her Bluetooth over her ear, she answered, “Morning.”

“Girl, it is not morning,” Venus said cheerfully.

“It’s not.”

“Get your sweet-ass pussy up. You been in bed since I got you home yesterday? I’m still in town and I want to check out that
sex club in Fort Lauderdale tonight.”

“What day is it?” Nikki asked, managing to toss her feet to the floor while her head remained on the pillow.

“What difference does that make? I’m not accepting no for an answer,” Venus said.

She might have to, if it was Saturday. Nikki could picture Venus’s smile. “No, I can’t go there again. That’s Lexington’s
spot,” Nikki said, gazing at the clock on the nightstand. “I can’t believe I was twelve hours off. What’s wrong with me?”

“You’ve overdosed on dick. And the best relief for a hangover, no pun intended, is more of the same thing that fucked you
up in the first place. That means going to the club is ideal for you. Fuck Lexington. He doesn’t own the damn place,” Venus
said with a serious attitude. “You are going with me, and that’s final. I’ll see you in a few, baby.”

Oh, no. Please don’t come,
Nikki thought, collapsing to the floor. She hadn’t been hungover since college.

This was one time Nikki wished Venus wasn’t in town. She knew Venus well enough to take her seriously. Venus would be at her
home shortly. Nikki picked up her cell phone and called Lexington.

“What do you want?” a woman asked.

“Huh? I must’ve dialed the wrong number,” Nikki said, holding her stomach.

“You got that right. My husband is busy. I suggest you find somebody else’s marriage to wreck,” Donna said.

“No, Donna, wait. Let me explain. You don’t—”

Donna ended their call.

Donna misunderstood Nikki. Nikki couldn’t change that she’d fallen in love with Lexington
before
he married Donna. Or that she’d never fallen out of love with Lexington. Who was she to judge why Lexington hadn’t spent
time with his son? Nikki didn’t like this newfound relationship. Had Donna said, “My husband is busy”?
Doing what?
Nikki wondered. Hopefully, something Nikki had said to Lexington would make him a better father, but he wasn’t a bad person
and she wasn’t trying to make him a better husband to Donna. Why was Nikki rationalizing Lexington’s behavior?

“What? Oh, hell no,” Nikki said, pulling herself up on the bed to redial Lexington’s number. “Did that bitch hang up on me?”
Before she redialed him, her phone rang, with his name and number showing.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Donna?” Nikki asked. “I didn’t wreck your damn marriage, you did!”

“Nikki,” Lexington said, “calm down. Look, we need to talk.”

“About what? What is there to discuss?”

“Nikki, where’s Herschel?” Lexington asked.

“Since when are you concerned about Herschel?” Nikki asked, staggering back and forth across the floor.

“Is he there?”

“No, and—”

“I’m on my way over,” Lexington said, hanging up the phone.

Nikki halfway closed her eyes, walking toward her bathroom. Staring in the mirror, she saw her hair was a mess. Stepping into
a cold shower, she lathered her exfoliating gloves, quickly washed her body, brushed her teeth, huffed into her palm, gargled
with mouthwash, then rinsed her mouth. As she walked out to her patio for fresh air, Lexington was sitting in her favorite
wicker chair.

“What was so important that you actually came to my house?” Nikki asked, sitting in the seat next to him.

“I have to know,” he said.

Frowning Nikki asked, “Know what?”

“Are you pregnant, Nikki?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. What do you care? I have enough money to take care of a child on my own,” Nikki said, holding her forehead
with one hand and her stomach with the other.

“If you are, I want to do what is right,” Lexington said. “Come with me.”

Nikki’s frown returned, causing her forehead to pound. “This is my house, not yours.”

“Just come with me,” Lexington insisted, leading her into the bedroom.

“What? You want to shower? Fuck? What, Lexington? What if Herschel comes home and finds us in the bathroom?” Nikki said.

Lexington handed her a box way too weird-shaped to have a ring in it.

Reading the box, then looking at Lexington, Nikki said, “This is a pregnancy test.”

“I know what it is, I bought it. I want you to take it right now so we’ll know.”

His eyes didn’t blink as he watched her hold the stick in the flow of her urine. Taking the stick from her, Lexington focused
his eyes, awaiting the results. Slowly he stared at her.

“What? What? What is it?” Nikki asked, snatching the stick from him.

Lexington exhaled. “It’s positive,” he said.

“What’s positive?” Venus and Herschel asked, standing in the doorway.

Nikki tossed the stick in the toilet, then quickly flushed.

S
ummertime was a great time to stroll along South Beach. Visitors and natives alike strolled, seemingly in search of serenity.
Reclining in a white plastic beach chaise, Brian glanced but didn’t stare at the topless, light-skinned women bathing in the
sun. A tan wasn’t always a good thing. Skin cancer and excessive pigmentation were bad.

Interlocking his fingers behind his head, Brian wondered, how was he going to keep Carmelita and Zahra from contacting Michelle?
How did Carmelita get his wife’s number?

Brian considered lying to his wife and saying, “Baby, I don’t know no Carmelita.” In part, that was true.

He had refused to give Carmelita $10,000. Thinking back, he realized he should’ve negotiated paying her something. But giving
her money was no guarantee she wouldn’t call Michelle. He feared Carmelita would call his wife at some point. Why didn’t he
get her phone number? He desperately wanted to call that slimy, scamming, no-good Latina chick, but he couldn’t. Probably
best. Now he’d have to wait for her to make the next move. For how long?

Brian watched the waves pushing white sand upon the shore. What if she demanded some ridiculous amount of money? More than
$10,000. What if she claimed she was having his baby? Either would dissolve his marriage if Michelle found out. There was
no way Carmelita could be pregnant by him from a one-night stand. Could she? What was wrong with women? Were women that desperate
for money that they’d selfishly ruin a good man’s life and his marriage?

Brian glanced at his phone. No missed calls. That Carmelita chick still hadn’t called him. Why? Reclining his head, Brian
closed his eyes. His marriage was perfect. Would Michelle abandon a perfect marriage or stand by him? How deep and how long
would his wife hurt if he confessed before Zahra or Carmelita contacted her?

The melody of “You Are So Beautiful” resounded from his cell phone, startling him.

“He-ey. Hey, baby. How are you?” Brian asked.

“I’m okay. What’s wrong with you?” Michelle asked. “I hear trepidation in your voice. Don’t tell me Marcus Monty signed with
someone else?”

“No, naw. I have a good chance. He’s narrowed it down to me or Brandon, saying he’d call me when he decided. I just dozed
off and the phone woke me up by surprise. What’s up?” he asked, eyeing a woman in a thong. The string had disappeared into
the crack of her creamy behind.

Keep your mind off women! You’ve got enough females dogging you.

“I need you to come home first thing in the morning. We need to talk before I leave,” Michelle said.

Sitting up, Brian’s voice trembled. “I’m on my way.”

“You don’t have to come home early. I have a few things to sort out, and the extra day will give me time.”

Nervously Brian replied, “Oh, okay.”

He’d made it back to South Beach earlier today but wasn’t quite ready to take the ten-minute drive home. His driver was parked
in front of the hotel. Not knowing Michelle’s intentions, he’d wait until tomorrow—after he cleared his conscience and rehearsed
his lies.

His eyes widened as he thought,
Ou, shit. She’s beautiful.
Brian drifted into a fantasy of fucking her on the beach. Massaging his dick, he stared at the camel-toe imprint of her pussy.
Why were women so fucking irresistible?
Down. Damn. Down.

His dickhead crept along his thigh toward his knee. Brian wanted to come. He needed to fuck somebody. Brian exhaled, wondering,
Am I a sex addict? After that shit with Zahra and Carmelita, I should be through fucking around. I should make an appointment.
Have myself checked out. Maybe telling the truth, then asking Michelle for forgiveness, better than seeing a sex therapist.
Not a good idea at all, though, if she finds out about my golfing trip to Atlanta.

“I’ll call you back later,” Michelle said.

Aw, damn.
He’d forgotten she was on the phone. Scratching his bald head, Brian asked, “Are the kids okay? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
Brian prayed to God that Carmelita hadn’t called his wife.

“No worries. Right? I’ll talk to you when you get here. Bye,” Michelle said, ending the call. She’d never abruptly hung up
on him with an attitude.

A woman dressed in a black tank top and white pants stopped, then asked him, “You okay?”

Brian nodded, thought,
Get your pussy out of my face,
then said, “Thanks.”

“I can tell something is bothering you. You look like you could use a secret friend,” she merrily said, smiling at him. “You
know, it always helps me to talk things through with nice strangers. They don’t know me. I don’t know them. It’s not at all
like secret shopping or dining, where you wait for the person to make a mistake so you can rate them. My being your secret
friend, you can say whatever is on your mind. Drink?” she asked, pointing toward the poolside bar. “I could use a stiff one
myself.”

Arching his foot, Brian’s knee bounced rapidly.
Why not?
he thought. They were outdoors on the beach surrounded by strangers. Maybe talking to her would help him to get his lies
straight.

Brian phoned his driver, then said, “You can leave. I’m going to stay here tonight.”

“Certainly. Would you like me to pick you up tomorrow?” the driver asked.

“I’ll call in the morning, if I need you. Bye.” Brian ended the call, ordered his favorite drink, then motioned to the strange
woman to order her drink.

“A strawberry colada, with an extra shot of rum, please,” she said. “What’s your name?” she asked, then immediately said,
“Don’t answer that. If you tell me, then you won’t be a secret friend anymore. Have you ever made love on the beach in the
middle of the night with the salty ocean breeze caressing your naked body?” she asked.

She’d managed to divert his attention to her. Brian tried imagining her naked. Watching her lips made his dick hard. “Sounds
crazy, but actually, no, I haven’t,” Brian answered. “Have you?”

“No, but I’d like to,” she said, licking the cherry. “What’s bothering you?”

“No need to discuss it. Whatever it is, it is. Just having someone to talk to is good enough for me,” he said, placing $30
on the bar. “Let’s sit outside by the pool.”

He led her beside the pool and he sat sideways on a lounge chair opposite hers, gazing up at the sky. The moon was half full.
Stars bright. He sat confessing his dilemma to an attractive woman he’d rather fuck than talk to. Coming would temporarily
take his mind off trying to figure out what Michelle had to say. Each wave gradually washed away the lavender and rose-colored
sunshine. The darkness softly swished upon the sand, until he no longer saw the beach. With his sense of sight limited, his
hearing became more keen as he listened to the waves softly crashing ashore, one behind the other. Just as daylight traded
places with the moonlight, so could his life change drastically in one day.

Reaching for his phone, Brian said, “I need to take this,” answering, “Hey, Marcus, what’s up? Great hearing from you.”

“You in,” Marcus said.

“No shit?”

“I want you to represent me, B. I need you on the first plane back to Houston tomorrow, man. We need to talk face-to-face.
Call me when you get in. Later,” Marcus said, ending their call.

The woman positioned herself closer, sat on the edge of his chair, placed his legs across her lap, then began massaging his
feet. She kneaded his arch. “Whoever it was, I’m glad to see they cheered you up. When was the last time you had a reflexology
massage?” she asked.

“That’s fucking great!” Brian yelled, smiling until his jaws ached. “That feels great,” Brian said, downing his drink. Whatever
she’d done to his feet made him hella sleepy superquick. Moaning, struggling to keep his eyelids from closing into a comfortable,
much-needed sleep, Brian mumbled, “I got the big contract.”

Slowly she unzipped his pants, taking him into her mouth. She sucked his dick, then licked his shaft from the base to the
ridge, then sucked his head again. She licked him again. The wetness of her tongue, the softness of her mouth, made his dick
harden, growing toward her throat.

“Relax,” she said. “You’ll be more comfortable if you remove your clothes. No one can see us out here now. They’re gone and
it’s way too dark.”