The Bride Experiment (3 page)
Read The Bride Experiment Online
Authors: Mimi Jefferson
Raquel held her breath, then exhaled slowly before she launched into a monologue: “Do you know I have spent my whole life planning this wedding? Do you know I'm having my reception at the Oakley in the grand ballroom, with a full band and orchestra? Do you know I am having orchids flown in from two different countries to make up my towering centerpieces? Do you know that I joined some stupid church and went to weeks of Premarital classes so I could have a thrilling two-story glass altar in my wedding photos? Do you know I spent over seven thousand dollars for a dress I'm only going to wear one day? Do you know that I'm a ghetto girl from the hood and for once in my life I get to be the princess? I have worked hard and saved harder. I have spent many days in the streets pounding the pavement getting clients. I have been on my feet to the wee hours of the morning, day after day, month after month, and year after year. I finally got the man, the house, and the kids, and now everything will go down the drain if poor, sick little Karen decides to blow it all away.”
Karen looked at Raquel, desperately searching for a glimmer of compassion. When she didn't find any, she stood up from the table. “You don't have to worry about me telling your beloved James the truth. The two of you deserve each other. Both of you are sick, materialistic, egotistic heathens.” With that, Karen walked out.
Raquel watched the back of Karen as she moved closer to the exit. Raquel was surer than ever Karen could not be trusted. If only she had paid more attention to that rat-poisoning story.
Chapter 3
“There's a time when it's okay to be one of manyâyou know, the one woman of many.” Joan resisted the urge to look up at her best friend, Tisha, for a reaction. She continued to read. “It's okay to pretend, as if he's not lying to you. It's okay and even desirable to be the woman he glides into, supplying your body with pleasure. And then one day, it will be over. It does not matter if you have been with him hour after hour, day after day, or year after year.
“He'll get up, and in that moment, what used to be good enough will not be good enough anymore. It won't matter where he's going and who he's going to be with next. All you know is that's the last time he'll be with you. You could have spent the last ten, fifteen, twenty years desperately trying to hold on to him, and then you just let him go. The feelings that you seemed destined to carry around forever just disappear.
“My whole life has changed since I got James out and let Jesus in. I have been celibate and walking with the Lord strong for a while now, and the sight of James just makes me think about the past and all that time I wasted holding on to a dream, or maybe I should call it a nightmare. I hold no conversations with him. He is my ex for a reason. And yes, I have vowed to allow him full access to our son, but he has absolutely no access to me . . . at least not anymore.
“His biceps, triceps, and perfectly chiseled body screaming with temptation used to haunt me.” Joan's voice cracked. “âThe gym has always been his very special friend. He had me on lockdown while he cheated on me and abused me for eight years and fifty-seven days. He didn't just have my body. He had my mind too. In the beginning, we would take walks and talk about politics. We could go on and on for hours. He would take me on his motorcycle and we would make love in the park. He would sing me songs, even though he couldn't sing. He even wrote poems. They didn't make sense, but do you think I cared? I was like a little girl caught up in a fairy tale. I had found somebody to complete me.
“Just to think, I would have drunk his bathwater, sucked his toes, and ate his boogers, if I had thought it would make him stay with me instead of her. Okay, so maybe I would not have done all that . . . but to think of all I did do. If it wasn't for the almost ten-year-old boy we share, I promise you I would never lay eyes on him again.
“Don't get me wrong. I don't blame James alone. He was only one act in the drama-filled existence that used to be my life. He was only one of the men I'd slept with. Bed-hopping was not my only vice. When I got tired of that, I island-hopped, and while I was there I did a little bed-hopping too. Sometimes I didn't know one room from the other. I was in pain. I was searching for something. I'm here to tell you I found it. Or maybe I should say Him, the Him I had always been looking for.
“I was reborn. No, I didn't travel through my mother's birth canal again. But I was reborn nevertheless. I was set free. In what seemed like an instant, my world came together. My Mercedes-Benz SUV, my handbags that cost small fortunes, and extensive designer wardrobe didn't matter to me. Nothing mattered, except being filled with His presence and walking in His ways.”
Joan looked away from the paper and looked directly at Tisha. She tried to look calm, despite the knots that were forming in her shoulders. Joan got jittery every time she had to speak for Woman's Day Wednesday at their church, even though this was her fourth time being selected.
Joan chose to read the beginning of the address to Tisha because her friend could be blunt, to the point of humiliation, if necessary. Tisha smiled and then started to cry. Joan shuffled her papers and wondered where she went wrong, or if she went wrong.
It was Monday afternoon; the bakery Joan owned was practically empty. Tisha and Joan sat on wooden stools behind the counter. They would not have a rush again until this evening when the college students from the community college came by with their laptops, earphones, and oversized books.
For now, Lindsey, the author who came by every day, was busy pecking on her laptop, sipping a latte. She was pushing out a best seller, Joan and Tisha often joked. She had sat there almost every day since the bakery officially opened, two years ago. Rebecca and Shamar, the interracial newlyweds, were sitting on the stools by the window, staring at each other, sharing a piece of chocolate cake and a deluxe café mocha, with two straws.
Tisha walked away from her stool and faced the assortment of stainless-steel coffee equipment so she could hide her tears. Joan could only watch her as “To God Be the Glory” played on the sound system. It was important for Joan to have a spiritual theme in her bakery. She wanted it to be a place where people could pray, read the Bible, and talk about Jesus freely.
Sometimes they would have a Christian band, praise dancers, or spoken-word artists come out and perform on the weekends. Multiple verses of scripture were printed on the walls and the portable coffee containers.
“It's just that . . .” Tisha tried to speak.
“It's just what?” Joan asked nervously as she stared at Tisha's back. Part of her wanted to see Tisha's face, but she was afraid she would see the truth in Tisha's eyes. Joan had spent two weeks preparing the speech and didn't know if she had the heart to start all over from scratch.
Joan looked around and made sure the counter was clear of customers. Tisha quietly wept. Frustrated, Joan asked, “Is it that bad, Tisha?”
Tisha turned around instantly. “That bad? That bad? No, Joan, it is not bad at all. It's perfect, absolutely perfect. It's different from any of your other lessons. You are so vulnerable, so exposed. You are really going to help a lot of women with that one.”
Joan looked confused and relieved at the same time. “Well, then, why are you crying?”
Tisha walked to the end of the counter, which was lined with freshly made chocolate, lemon, and peach croissants. “Joan, look around. Look at us. . . . Look at all of this. . . .”
Joan exhaled; she knew exactly why Tisha was crying now. It really was remarkable. They had gone from club-hopping to Bible Study, from having sex to being celibate, from unbelievers to being Christians, from not going to church to speaking at church functions. Everything about them seemed to have changed.
“Who would have thought,” Tisha added, “I would be able to live without Marcus? And that you would have finally gotten James Sr. out of your system? That we would have put our talents and money together to start up this bakery? And then, with all that, God is still doing more!”
Tisha pointed to the first review the
Houston Tribune
had posted about the bakery. It read:
Houston Tribune
had posted about the bakery. It read:
Happy Endings, the newest chic bakery, promises just that. The hardwood floor, inviting music, and perfectly brewed South American coffee would have been enough. But the owner, Joan Dallas, and her assistant, Tisha Lewis, added lemon scones, chai, and raspberry truffles so good they will make you scream. The sweet potato pecan pie should be against the law. It is more savory than sweet, and so succulent! This is no ordinary dessert shop, but an elegant way to end a meal. Or if you like dessert as much as I do, begin one.
Joan looked around like she was taking it all in for the first time. Tisha was right. God had moved and moved mightily in their lives.
The phone rang. Tisha walked over to answer it. “It makes you wonder, huh? I mean, what is going to happen next?”
Joan smiled and grabbed a towel to clean the already spotless counter. “You never know what the day will bring.”
Chapter 4
James admired the determined click of his favorite pair of Italian dress shoes. He hurriedly made it down the hall of Coolwater Church. His ringing cell phone stopped his stride midstep. “It's about time you called me back. What's up with you?”
“What's up with me? What's up with you?” Miles retorted. “Some lady claiming to be your wedding planner called. She said something about not forgetting to go get the final alterations on my tux. Since there is not going to be a wedding, why do I need to be worried about a tux?”
James looked around to make sure he was alone. “That's what I needed to talk to you about. I haven't told Raquel a thing. As a matter of fact, I'm about to meet with her now so that we can speak with the preacher about the final rundown for our wedding.”
“What! You are going to actually marry this woman after finding out that both Morris and Alexis belong to another man? She's been cheating on you for as long as you have been together.”
“Exactly, that's why I'm going to pay her back in a way she will never forget. Last night I came up with a plan.”
“Tell me more.”
“I can't give you the details right now. Just don't let on that you know something is up. Do whatever the wedding planner tells you.”
“I can't wait to see what you have planned for that lying trick.”
“Just thinkâI was tripping about this. I actually threw out my numbers, started going to these lame church meetings, trying to live right by this woman, and she did this to me for all these years. She is going to pay for this.”
“When is this meeting over? I got to hear this.”
“Well, I don't know, about an hour or so, but I was thinking about going by Joan's afterward.”
Miles laughed. “I knew you were going to make your way back to that. You always do. She would be a fool to take you back. Besides, I heard her and Tisha are some Holy Rollers now, going to church all through the week, and they stopped giving it up.”
“Haven't we heard that before?”
“So many times. Well, call me when you leave Joan's.”
“Sure, bro, but don't be surprised if you don't get that call until tomorrow morning.”
James hung up the phone and made his way down the hall. Moments before he stepped through the door, he paused and took a deep breath. He slowly walked into the room, with a confident smile on his face.
Just like all six of their other Premarital sessions, Raquel beat him to the meeting. She was so busy with the wedding that he had hardly laid eyes on her since finding out he was not the father of her children.
He kissed her on the cheek, out of habit. She barely noticed. She was too busy telling the preacher assigned to perform their ceremony where he should stand, what he should wear, and what he should say.
James always hated these sessions. He hated he had to pretend he believed the mumbo jumbo that Christians believed. Raquel took one look at Coolwater Church years before they were ever engaged and decided this place would be the perfect spot for her wedding. The only problem was that the church required all couples that wanted to get married in their facility attend seven Premarital sessions, in addition to the hefty fee.
The minister, overwhelmed with Raquel's directions, turned toward James. “Praise the Lord, here's our groom. It's good to see you, James.”
“Praise the Lord.” James paused but couldn't remember the minister's name. He looked around awkwardly, but he didn't see the minister's name anywhere.
Raquel looked like she wanted to crawl under a rug. “Minister Tyler, remember James.”
“I'm sorry, sir. It's just that . . . I'm so excited about making this lovely woman my bride.”
Raquel and Minister Tyler were both appeased.
During their first session, the preacher had asked them all kinds of questions. Did they believe in Jesus? How would they raise their children? What church did they belong to? Did they know God created marriage?
They answered all the questions perfectly, because one of Raquel's stylists had tried to have her wedding at Coolwater Church, only to be turned down because she and her fiancé didn't answer the questions correctly. The minister had told them they needed to join a church and learn about God's design for marriage before he could recommend that they get married. They ended up getting married somewhere else, but their failure allowed for Raquel's success. She knew all the questions the minister was going to ask beforehand. She had spent three days drilling James, until he gave the right answers. They even joined a church in their neighborhood. They only went for about two months straight, long enough for the church secretary to sign a paper saying they were active members. Since they got the paper signed, they had yet to return to the church.
Church people made James itch. They seemed uptight, fearful, and hypocritical. James's father and uncle were deacons. They ministered to all the women in the congregation. Looking over at Raquel made James remember something his Dad had told him and Miles repeatedly. “A man ain't supposed to have just one woman. It just ain't natural. Try to stick with one of these old ladies without having another on the side and watch yourself go crazy.”
James's father died on top of a woman. Shot dead by the daddy of the sixteen-year-old who lay unharmed underneath him.
Raquel's thighs were hanging off the sides of the chair. James shook his head in disgust. He was about to settle for that for the rest of his life. His daddy was right; men will go crazy with just one woman.
Joan had a nice, tight body, with firm thighs and smooth skin.
“James.”
Startled, James looked up to find Raquel and Minister Tyler looking at him.
“James, the minister says we are all set.” Raquel clapped her hands like a five-year-old. Their seventh and final session was over.
Minister Tyler stood up and extended his hand to James. James did the same.
“I'll see you on the seventeenth, young man,” Minister Tyler stated. “Don't be late for your own wedding.”
“I'll be there with bells on.” James grinned at Raquel.
Minister Tyler hurried out of the office.
Raquel shuffled through her papers. “Okay, I think I have almost everything done. I need to go and check on Alexis's flower girl dress. Then I have to get back to work. I have a client coming at eight. I'm going to get the wedding planner to call and remind everybody about the rehearsal dinner and make sure the flowers are on schedule to arrive. I want to make sure nothing is late.”
Raquel put her papers in her handbag. “I hope Charlene can still get into her dress. I can't believe that girl went and got herself pregnant for my wedding. I don't know what we're going to do if she can't get into that dress.”
“I made the final arrangements for our honeymoon.” James played his role. “Everything is a go. You just make sure you are packed and ready to go.”
“I'll be home late tonight. I'll probably be up half the night trying to put Debra's weave in. She gets on my nerves. She is so hard to please, but her money is still green, and right about now, I can't turn it down.” Raquel sheepishly looked down at her shoes, and then said really quickly, “Especially since I just spent fifteen hundred dollars on our custom-made aisle runner.”
“No! Raquel, I thought we agreed not to spend any more money on this wedding. You know we have to live afterward.”
“I know, boo, but I couldn't help it. When you see it, you will understand. It is hand painted with our monogram. The same monogram that is on our cake, our wedding and reception programs, and embroidered on my dress. And besides, that's why I'm taking on additional clients. I'm not going to tap into our savings.”
James made a mental note to withdraw all the money from their accounts on the morning of the wedding. He and Raquel decided to combine accounts when they purchased their home three years ago.
James remembered Joan. “Um . . . well, I'll be working tonight too. Frank called and asked if I would help him guard the all-white party they're having at Club Jazzy tonight.”
Raquel looked concerned. James knew what to say. “Baby, don't worry. We can't afford to miss out on this easy money. Since I'm a constable, they are paying me two hundred an hour to stand around and pretend to patrol something.”
“All right, just don't get yourself in trouble with those young girls.”
“Of course not, baby.” James walked Raquel to her car, kissed her on the lips and watched her drive away.
With Raquel out of sight, he pulled out his cell phone and started to dial Joan's phone number. Before the call went through, he hung up the phone. Joan could wait. He needed to make sure his plan to destroy Raquel was foolproof. James walked back inside the church.
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