Unconditionally Single (17 page)

F
unny how you could fuck someone and at the same time fuck yourself.

Have you loved so hard you thought your heart would break?

Have you ever wished your foolish pride hadn’t fooled you?

Have you mourned a lost love so deeply you thought you’d grieve to death?

Have you cried until you had no tears left?

Have you boxed with your mistakes to take the pain away?

Have you played games and had someone check you for your mate?

I was not letting Grant go. Jada may have won tonight but Grant was my man. Seeing him walk out the door with his hand on her waist irritated me. Benito sat across from me, nodding. I was too disgusted to pick up that paperweight. Wanted to give Valentino and Benito more than a piece of my mind. One paperweight, two targets. My losing Grant was all their fault.

“Lace, you don’t love me anymore?” Benito asked.

Valentino shook his head in disgust.

Untying and retying my shoelaces, I stood, removed the brown band from my ponytail. “Valentino, I will split what I have left of your money with you under one condition.”

“How you gon’ put restrictions on a nigga?” he asked. “That’s my money.”

I waited for the word
bitch
or
trick
to follow. When it didn’t, I told him, “I could keep all of your money. And if you step foot on my property again without my permission, I’ll shoot to kill.”

“You should shoot yourself. All those years on your back and you’ve failed at keeping your man,” he said.

A woman had to give up, in order to fail. I hadn’t failed, had no intentions of failing. “That may be your truth, but the fact is I’m not broke. I can buy a man with your money.” I gathered my hair into a fresh ponytail, stood in the doorway. “Think about it. Let me know by tomorrow, midnight, or forget about it.”

Benito blurted, “What about me? Grant might kick us out because of you. Can I come live with you again?”

And do what?
I’d already prayed that Benito was not my destiny. In case God hadn’t heard me the first time, I prayed again.

Valentino said, “You don’t need her. I’ve got you covered.”

“But I’m in love with Lace not you,” Benito replied with droopy eyes.

Benito would never be my man again. Not seriously. But if I didn’t get back with Grant, and if I lead Benito to believe we were dating, every holiday I could become a permanent thorn in Grant and Jada’s life. I headed out the door, jogged back toward the condo, saw three police cars surrounding the unit. Hunter pointed at me. Pretending not to see him, I maintained my stride.

I turned right, jogged to Peachtree. Turned left, made my way to a restaurant, and went inside.

Observing my attire, the hostess frowned. “Excuse me, miss. May I help you?”

“Nope, I’m fine,” I lied. I bypassed the entrance, scanned each section until I saw Sapphire seated with a handsome Italian man.

Sapphire noticed me right away as I approached her table.

Slap!
My hand landed across her face, left a red imprint of my fingers.

Her date grabbed me and forced my hands behind my back. The hostess came running to the table. Sapphire stood and emptied her Bloody Mary on my head. Ice cubes lodged in my ponytail.

“You jealous bitch! How dare you not tell me that Grant withdrew fifty million dollars from his account to pay my ransom? Let me go!” I yelled, struggling with the man behind me, hoping he’d leave Sapphire at the restaurant.

“It’s called karma,” Sapphire said.

Who the fuck was she to tell me about karma? Like her ass lived in a glass house. “You wanted Grant for yourself. That’s why you lied. This is not over,” I yelled, still struggling to get free.

“Yes it is, Honey. Let it go. Accept that Grant has another woman. That’s not my fault. Move on with your life. I’m moving on with mine. At some point we have to let go of our past. I admit I made some bad decisions. So have you. I apologize. But you’ll get through this. So will I. Take care of yourself, Honey.”

“I hate you!” I shrugged my shoulders, jerked my arms. Tried to get closer to her so I could punch her this time. It was her fault.

“In case you’ve forgotten, you are the one who decided to declare yourself missing. I guess you really are. You don’t hate me. You hate yourself. And you hate the fact that things didn’t turn out the way you wanted. It’s called life.”

The hostess said, “Please take her out of here before I call the police.”

The Italian man said, “I’m a police chief, I’ll handle her.”

“I’m going to report you,” I yelled at Sapphire as the Italian man escorted me to the front door. The second he released me I ran away.

I ran fast. I ran long. And I ran hard. Tears poured down my cheeks. I didn’t care. I was mad. At every one. Why me? Grant didn’t know the meaning of abuse. The awful ways that abuse had fucked me up for life. Sure, he could recite the dictionary’s definition. But what did he understand? And what had he survived?

I could’ve returned to the condo and let Hunter comfort me but he had anger management issues. I’d been abused enough to know the warning signs: His telling me how to invest my money, trying to make me stay until he released me, throwing me on the bed, telling me I was less than Jada, throwing the remote, slamming the door so hard the glass shattered. Going back to Hunter would be my volunteering for a volatile ass whipping.

Hunter’s job may have made him angry. He was also mad at his parents, his estranged wife, not having enough money after paying child support or to pay his gambling debt. Perhaps he was born that way, grew up that way. Happy on the outside, angry on the inside. That was how most abusers were in public. I’d bet that his wife was doing well without him. Had another man raising his kids. She’d probably moved on with her life but he couldn’t move on with his. Had to find himself a better woman than he’d left to prove to his ex he didn’t need her when he was probably the one who’d messed up. Regardless, his problems were not mine.

I ran to my mansion.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Relentless, I kept knocking.

Onyx opened the door. “Honey! My God! You’re home!” She hugged me tight.

I hugged her lightly. “I’ve got somewhere to be,” I said, letting her go.

“You just got here. I’m so happy you’re safe.” Onyx hugged me again, then yelled upstairs, “Honey’s home! I’ll go with you. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

That sounded so good. But I had to keep moving solo. I had one more stop.

My girls came stampeding down the stairs, smothered me with a group hug. I smiled, laughed. “Honey’s home, girls, and I’m fine.” A few minutes was all I spared before saying, “I’ve to go handle some business. Onyx, get me your cell phone.”

I went into my room, locked the door, showered, washed and blow-dried my hair. I put on my red baby doll dress, red heels with the silver spikes. I curled my hair. Long golden spirals bounced freely. Layered earth-toned shadows on my eyelids. Brushed on red gloss.

I checked the purse that was left behind the day I was kidnapped, for my driver’s license and credit cards. I picked up the keys for my white-on-white Jag. Went to my office, opened my desk drawer, removed my .45. Checked the rounds. Thirteen bullets in the clip, one in the chamber. I placed the gun in my purse.

Standing at the foot of my stairs, I called out, “Onyx, where’s your phone?”

Onyx trotted downstairs, handed me her phone. “You look beautiful. You have a date with Grant?”

“Yeah, something like that,” I said, then left.

T
wenty minutes later, I was parked in Grant’s driveway next to that bitch’s Bentley. I got out and banged on his door with my gun.
I wish she would come answer my man’s door,
I thought.

Grant cracked the door. “Honey? What are you doing here?”

“Open the door,” I demanded.

“Nah, I can’t do that. You should’ve called first.”

Was he serious? I knew Grant hadn’t gotten over me that fast. He’d have to prove it. I wasn’t going anywhere.

My voice trembled as I held my gun beside my hip. “Grant, I need to talk with you now and I’m not leaving, so you might as well open the door.”

He opened the door another inch. “You look nice. Look, call me tomorrow. We can talk then. Now is just not good for me, Honey.”

Well, now was perfect for me and once I was inside, I’d change his mind. “For you? Or for that bitch up in there with you? I’m not leaving. Open the fucking door!”

“Fine.” Grant opened the door, turned his back, walked into his living room. He tightened the black oversized towel about his waist.

I slipped my gun in my purse, closed the door, followed him, eyes glued to his ass.

He turned up the lights. I squinted, wanting to dim the lights back, set the mood for loving him.

“Baby, is everything okay?” Jada asked, entering the living room. “Not her again. Why is she here?”

“‘Her again’? ‘She’? Bitch, you’d better recognize me,” I said, clutching my purse to my side. “You think you gon’ ease your way up in my man’s house. Not without a fight.”

“Ahh, not this again. Grant, where’d you find her? She’s so ghetto,” Jada said.

I stared at Jada. Opened my purse. Put my hand on my piece.

“Am I supposed to be scared? What are you going to do, shoot me?” she said, laughing.

“Baby, go back in the bedroom,” Grant told her. “I’ll be there shortly.”

“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” she said, leaving.

I sat on his plush gold cushioned sofa. “We need to talk.”

Grant stood. “You talk. I’m listening.”

“I need you to sit next to me,” I said, placing my purse on the end table.

“I don’t want to sit next to you,” Grant said, leaving space between us to accommodate another person. “I’m listening.”

“Baby, I’m sorry. You’ve got to believe me. I never meant for any of this to happen. We are so good for one another,” I said, sniffling.

“Are you serious?” Grant asked.

I moved closer to him. “I want things between us to go back to the way they were before the kidnapping.”

“We weren’t speaking before the
alleged
kidnapping. Remember? I can go back to that. Are we done?”

No, we were not done. Grant was right but he knew what I meant. We’d left the hotel in Las Vegas, stood on the same elevator and hadn’t spoken a word. How could that be, when the night before we’d made hot passionate love? I knew Grant was stubborn. So was I, but I had to take him back to that night. Back to our making love. Help him remember his true Honey.

I said, “True. But you came here to Atlanta to rescue me. You did that because you love me.”

“Correction.
Loved
you. That’s what I thought. But the real reason I came was it was meant for me to meet Jada.”

If Grant didn’t love me, he wouldn’t have let me in. “You barely know her!”

“That’s more than I can say about you,” Grant said, then asked, “Is there anything else?”

Jada entered the living room. “I’m going home.” Grant stood. Jada held up her palm. “Don’t, Grant. I’m leaving. Don’t sweat the small stuff,” she said, walking out the front door.

What the hell did that mean? I didn’t care. I was glad her ass had left.

Grant looked at me. “Honey, what do want from me? Blood?”

I shook my head. “You. I want you back,” I told him.

“I don’t know how many different ways to say we are not compatible.” Grant’s eyes caressed my legs, my breasts.

We weren’t compatible. We had different backgrounds, upbringings, lifestyles, but I loved Grant. Didn’t love count? Couldn’t my love for him, his love for me, sustain our relationship?

“I love you, Grant Hill.”

“No you don’t,” he said. “What do those words mean to you?”

I had to think for a moment, then answered, “Being with you makes me happy.”

“You, happy? What about me? Do you care if I’m happy? I’m looking over my shoulder every day worrying if someone that you’ve stolen money from is going to shoot me. Honey, be truthful. Can you honestly tell me that you love me unconditionally?”

Unconditionally?
Silence lingered between us.

“You can’t because you don’t,” he continued. “You want to be loved. You think I’m that man. I don’t know if it’s because of my looks, the great sex we shared, or my success. I’m not the man for you. You’re gorgeous. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

No, he wasn’t trying to pacify me. I knew what I wanted and I wanted Grant. But he was right. I didn’t love him unconditionally. I didn’t love anyone unconditionally.

“Any man except you would be lucky to have me, that’s what you mean?” I said. “Don’t treat me this…” I couldn’t hold back the tears.

“Honey, please. Don’t cry.” Grant sat next to me, held me in his arms. “I do love you. But remember that night in Vegas, you were the one who told me, ‘sometimes love isn’t enough.’”

I pressed my lips to his neck, my breasts to his chest, then whispered, “Make love to me one last time.”

F
uck Honey—fuck up with Jada.

The chances of Jada finding out were slim, if Honey could separate sex and love, move on with her life, and let me be. Jada and I had already agreed not to sweat the small stuff. Fucking Honey, for me, would classify as small stuff. I wanted to fuck Honey. Her hot juicy lips were on my neck. Her nipples poked through her dress, pressed against my chest. I remembered how hot and wet she’d get for me. My dick hardened.

I cupped her breasts, pressed them together, bit her nipple through her dress. Red was definitely Honey’s color.

“Umm, yeah,” she moaned, then grabbed the back of my head with both hands. Pulled my mouth closer.

Lowering her shoulder straps, exposing the tips of her golden nipples, I continued sucking. My dick throbbed, lifting the towel. I should jack off, release myself on her titties, then ask Honey to leave. “This is our last time doing this.” I couldn’t say making love because I was going to take my emotions out of the equation and fuck the shit out of Honey. “Promise me you won’t make me regret this night.”

Her lips pressed against my ear, then I felt the tip of her tongue penetrate my ear hole. Precum oozed from my dick head. I eased my hand under her dress, prepared to push her thong aside, and felt it. The hot, juicy pussy I remembered was on my fingertips.

“Damn, no drawers? For me?” I asked.

“Yes,” she moaned, gently pinching my nipples.

I stood and slowly unwrapped my towel to show her what she’d done to me. Hoping she was prepared for what I was getting ready to do to her, I laid my towel on the sofa, spread Honey’s thighs, got down on my knees, then flickered the tip of my tongue on her clit. Holding her beautiful booty, the nicest ass I’d ever held, in my hands like it was half a juicy watermelon, I’d buried my entire face in her pussy.

“Damn, I miss my sweet pussy,” I said, licking from her asshole to her clit.

There was something about a woman who made a man feel her pussy belonged to him and he could hit it anytime he wanted. Maybe it was the fact that women allowed their exes an all-access pussy pass, or men were too egotistical to believe their exes didn’t want the dick anymore. I was glad Honey initiated our last dance.

Her pussy lips ground against my tongue. Her back arched. “Don’t leave me, baby,” she cried. “I need you.”

In the heat of our moment, I replied, “I need you too,” softly suctioning her clit. I eased my middle finger insider her pussy, strummed her G-spot. “Damn, you’re really getting wet.”

“For you,” she said. “Let me taste you. I want to feel your strong hard dick in my mouth. I want you to fuck in my mouth. Grant?”

“Yes, Honey.”

“You can cum wherever you like,” she said, and I almost did.

Honey knew exactly how to turn me on. I tugged my shrinking nuts away from my dick to release the tension. I wasn’t ready to cum.

Trading places, I lay on the towel. I watched Honey play with her breasts, squeeze her nipples. She rubbed her titties on my dick, then sucked my head. “Don’t move,” she said, heading toward my kitchen.

She returned with an open champagne bottle in one hand, a champagne glass filled with honey in her other hand. Unsure of what was next, I moved to the floor. Spread the towel underneath me.

Honey poured champagne in her mouth, sat the bottle and glass beside us, then slid her mouth over my head. Slowly she released the champagne. Bubbles flowed down my shaft, around my balls, between the crack of my ass.

She picked up the champagne glass and said, “A toast, to us.” She tipped the flute to my head, tilted the glass, then drizzled honey over my dick, down my shaft, and onto my balls. Working her way from the bottom up, she teabagged my nuts, sucking off the honey.

Her tongue trailed up my shaft, then she rotated my head in her mouth. She gulped the champagne, then poured some over my dick. She tilted my ass up, proceeded to French kiss my asshole, then my money bag. Her tongue pressed hard against the dimple between my asshole and my nuts.

Just when Honey was about to break the bank, I said, “Aw, damn, baby, you gon’ make me cum.” I took several deep breaths to prolong my ejaculation. I wasn’t ready to cum.

Honey straddled me and slowly lowered her hot pussy from the head of my dick to my balls. Her ass rotated. Grinding her glorious booty against my pelvis, she sandwiched my nuts. Her pussy throbbed against my shaft. I lost it. I couldn’t hold back.

I held her ass; she rolled her hips. I rolled her onto my dick, thrusting deeper inside her. She opened and closed her legs like a butterfly until…until…“Ahhhh. Ahhhh. Ahhhh. Cum with me, Honey,” I moaned.

The moment we came, I was glad Jada was gone and Honey was where she belonged. Home with me.