Unconditionally Single (4 page)

Meanwhile…in Washington, D.C.

A
n honorable man sacrificed for family, for success, for love. The second Onyx phoned and told me Honey was in trouble, I was on my way. I never got out of my car in front my parents’ home in D.C. I backed out of their driveway and headed to the nearest airport with the most direct flights to Hartsfield.

“Yes! Finally, I have a legitimate reason to go get my baby back.” I hadn’t called Honey since we’d parted in Vegas. The possibility of her rejection bothered me. No way was I going to call Honey and confess, “Baby, I love you. I want you to be my lady,” and give her the chance to tell me, “Grant, you’re not man enough for me.”

Two women in my life were worth dying for, my mother and Honey. My mother knew how much I loved her; Honey had no idea. My mom loved me unconditionally. Mom made loving her easy. Made being myself comfortable, acceptable. Mom consistently wanted the best for me. My wife didn’t have to be my mom, but she had to have my mother’s qualities. Mom supported my indoor grasshopper farm when I was six, my riding dirt bikes when I was twelve, and my decision to sell the house my dad bought me for graduation to invest in my first apartment complex when I was eighteen.

I turned up WPGC, jammed right with Michel Wright. Early afternoon traffic on the GW Parkway was congested. Michel made my commute fun. She was a radio personality, writer, producer, and more than a pretty face with a knockout body. Michel was the type of ambitious woman that successful men like me were attracted to.

I merged into the creeping fast lane, got back over into the slow lane, which moved a little faster. Alternated until I hit the Dulles Airport access road. Drove the speed limit to avoid being pulled over. Getting a ticket would set me back in time and money. My stomach churned. What if I risked my life, rescued Honey, and she rejected me? I’d feel like a fool. Maybe I should go home. But what if I could’ve saved her life and didn’t try?

“I’m doing the right thing,” I said to convince myself.

Emotional support was free but women acted as though it cost a fortune. Would Honey come to my aid if I were endangered? I believed she would, but Honey didn’t love me the way my mother did. Honey loved me conditionally.

My ego ripped me from Honey’s arms when she’d given me an ultimatum to commit or quit. Fear of marriage encouraged me to leave that hotel room in Las Vegas (after having the best sex of my life with Honey) without telling her good-bye. We’d argued because she wanted a relationship that I was unsure of.

When I’d said, “Let’s do it,” she’d said, “You don’t know what you want,” convincing me she didn’t know what she wanted. I waited for her to call or text me like she’d always done after our emotional breakups. She didn’t. Constantly, I replayed memories of her in my mind. Tired of waiting on her to make the first call, I’d sexed a few women—held on to the hope that Honey would come back to me. I came inside a condom, pulled my dick out of each woman pretending they were Honey. Honey didn’t deserve to endure more suffering; she’d had more than her share of hardships. She’d told me parts of her rough upbringing. Empathy was all I could offer.

Born with a silver spoon, the moment I opened my eyes I wanted for nothing. I grew up in a luxurious house with loving parents, had my first car at fifteen. My parents loved and treated my brother and me the same.

Arriving at Washington Dulles International, I parked in short-term not caring how long my car would stay there. No luggage in tow, I zigzagged across three lanes of congested airport traffic, slapped the hood of a car that almost sideswiped me. The startled driver looked up, frowned at me, then honked her horn. “Inconsiderate woman better keep her attention on the road before she hurt somebody,” I muttered.

Benito was self-centered and unappreciative. He totaled his first and second cars, sold his house, then pissed away the money impressing his so-called college friends on the football team. Never would’ve gotten that four-year scholarship if it weren’t for my mother adopting him before she’d met my dad. Benito claimed he made it to the pros on his own. He was an outstanding athlete but Benito talked a better game than he’d played. Women would throw their panties at Benito while he was on the football field. Honey had shared her house, Jaguars, money, heart, and the key to her soul with Benito. All of that wasn’t enough. Benito was a leech and leeches sucked blood until they drained their life support system; then they’d move on to a fresh victim.

I ran through the automatic sliding doors, up to the ticket counter, pulled out my credit card and ID. I’d never met a woman with so much fire, enthusiasm, drive, determination, brains, beauty, sex appeal, bedroom skills, bodacious booty, business sense, and money. Didn’t need or want her money, had my own, but she’d ruined me for other women. Life without my Honey wasn’t happening.

T
he ticket agent smiled and greeted me with, “How may I—” Before she said, “help,” I handed her my driver’s license and my Grant Hill and Associates business credit card.

“I have a life or death emergency. You’ve got to put me on your next direct flight to Atlanta. I don’t mean your next available, let me make myself clear. I must be on your next flight leaving for Atlanta.”

Her smile vanished. “Hmmph. Give me a minute…Mr. Hill.” Her acrylic nails swiftly skated across the keyboard.

“I might not have a minute. Hurry up.”

Her head stayed bowed, jaws suctioned, lips tightened. Her eyes lifted toward me, then narrowed with disgust as she slowed her pace to pecks.

“Listen, lady, I apologize. Please, help me. The woman I want to marry is missing and I have got to find her before it’s too late.”

She looked up as if seeing me for the first time. Her smile returned. She typed faster. “Sign here,” she said, handing me a first-class boarding pass along with my ID and credit card. “Wish we had more men like you. Your flight departs in twenty minutes. You have got to hurry up,” she said, pointing to her right.

For this trip I didn’t care if I was in the last row with a nonreclining seat as long as I got on the plane. “Thanks!” I said, running to a security checkpoint. My jacket flapped under my arms like a bird taking flight before a natural disaster.

Sure hope I have the fortitude to deal with this Valentino guy.
What if he had a gun? Fighting was barbaric. Shooting a man was criminal. I hadn’t done either.

I removed my belt, emptied the contents of my pockets—wallet, cell phone, keys—in a white bowl, held on to my boarding pass. Just as I placed the bowl on the conveyor, my phone revved with my motorcycle ring tone:
varooom.
I snatched the tray.

“Excuse me, sir, you can’t reach into the X-ray machine. Put the bowl back,” a man in a TSA uniform said.

Best to ignore him, avoid misdirecting my anger, risk getting detained, or charged with some hidden post 9–11 felony for cursing him. I hadn’t checked my caller ID before anxiously answering, “Hurry, I’ve got two minutes. Give me some good news.” I stepped aside allowing other passengers to go ahead of me, praying Honey was rescued and all I had to do was comfort my baby.

“Hey, bro. Won’t take but a minute,” my brother said. “I need some more money. The five hundred you gave me back in Vegas is long gone, man, and I haven’t found a job yet.”

Benito was incredible. What would Mom want me to do? I responded the way my dad would have. “You’ve got to look for a job to find one. Where are you?”

“Gotta have money to look. I’m hanging out in Atlanta for a few days. So, can you help me out or what?”

“Atlanta, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m in the ATL, bro. You know me. I’m a transient. Atlanta, Vegas, D.C., never know where I’ll show up. If you go to Wal-Mart, the wire is cheaper,” he said.

Wal-What?
I felt my blood pressure rising. Wanted to curse him out, then question him about Honey. Didn’t want to give him time to make up lies if he knew the truth.

“I’ll call you back at this number in three hours.” I ended the call.

Placing the bowl on the conveyor, along with my shoes and jacket, I hurried through the metal detector. I had to get a security clear card. Should’ve been at my gate by now. I ran to the shuttle, stood the entire ride. First off the shuttle, I ran to my gate barely beating the last call for my flight.

I doubted I could avoid being arrested if the door was closed and I’d fallen on the floor kicking and screaming for three minutes like that woman who was on every major news channel. “Wait! Wait! Please don’t close the door!” I yelled, running toward the door and waving my boarding pass.

Breathing heavily, I settled into 1B, then told the attendant, “Let me have an OJ with ice please.” I was in the same seat I’d sat in when I’d met my Honey for the first time, except a different woman was seated at the window.

Her black skin glistened. Long hair flowed over her shoulders. Skirt rose a few inches above her knees, exposing her bare legs. No wedding band. Open-toe shoes revealed her impeccable pedicure—black stripes with diamonds across the tip of toenails. Elegant. Her fragrance, sweet like candy, the kind of scent that would ordinarily draw me real close to a woman, make me introduce myself. Not today. Regardless of how sweet she may have been, she wasn’t sweeter than Honey. No woman was.

“Here’s your juice,” the attendant said.

The cabin door closed. I fastened my seat belt, gulped the juice, then shut my eyes. Wanted to cry. What good would that do? Wondered how much Benito knew about Honey’s disappearance. Adrenaline did strange things to people. Gave men the strength to move mountains. If my brother was involved in Honey’s disappearance, our parents couldn’t save his ass from the worst beat-down of his life. I hated having to communicate with him but for now Benito was my only lead until I’d speak with Sapphire.

Sapphire, with her resources, could find Honey. But would she? I’d made the mistake of letting Sapphire seduce me when I’d flown to Las Vegas. Sapphire Bleu, born with the name Tiffany Davis, promised to give me background information on Honey. I’d hoped the results would be useful in my making an educated decision about whether to stay with Honey.

I’d first met Tiffany at a hotel when we were only sixteen. Her cheerleading squad was in Vegas for a competition. I’d heard in the hallways that Tiffany was easy and she gave great head. Had to find out. Fifteen years later, I’d confirmed that Tiffany aka Sapphire still gave great head. But Sapphire sucking my dick wasn’t motivation enough to leave Honey.

I felt the lightest touch on my shoulder, opened my eyes.

“I don’t mean to bother you but you seem like a man who enjoys sports,” the woman next to me said.

I exhaled, nodded, and closed my eyes again.

She tapped my shoulder again, then said, “I’d like to offer you two box suite tickets to see my son play in Atlanta tomorrow night.”

Answering her without opening my eyes, I asked, “What’s your son’s name?”

Softly, she said, “Darius Jones.”

I’d heard Darius Jones’s story on the news a while back when he’d entered the draft. He’d changed his last name from Jones to Williams when his paternity test proved Darryl Williams was his biological father.

I sat up, looked at her. “You mean Darius Williams who publicly announced he’d changed his last name to Williams has now changed his name back to Jones?”

Her lips parted. Her smile captivated me. I took a deep breath, inhaling her perfume. She seemed nice.

She nodded. “Long story. Short version, my son changed his name back to Jones after my husband, Wellington Jones, died.”

“Why’d he change his name back to Jones?” I asked her.

“My husband was a good father to Darius but when Darius learned Wellington wasn’t his biological father, he became upset. Changed his name to Williams. My son’s biological father is—”

“Darryl Williams, ex-pro-basketball player.” I smiled back her. She’d lied to her husband. I could see why a man wouldn’t want to let her go. “You are incredibly gorgeous, stunning.” But lying about paternity was justifiable termination for any relationship.

“Thanks. My name is Jada Diamond Tanner,” she said, handing me her card.

“This cannot be happening.” I shook my head. “Black Diamonds. So you are the mastermind behind the scintillating marketing of hundreds of companies and the multimillion dollar endorsements for your son. No offense, but I didn’t know the owner was a…a…”

“Woman?”

“Yeah.” I dug in my jacket pocket, handed her my card. “I’d love to meet with you in a professional setting to discuss the possibilities of your representing my company. With this unpredictable economy, I could use a boost. I mean my company could use a boost. I split my time between D.C. and Atlanta.”

She touched my hand. “I live in Roswell. What are you doing for dinner? Perhaps I can get you off to a good start tonight.”

Didn’t want to be rude and move my hand, so I left it there and replied, “I’m going to Atlanta on an emergency. Rain check?”

Her smile shrunk. “Sure. What’s your emergency?’

“The woman I want to marry is missing. I have to find her. I love her.”

Jada moved her hand. Her eyes filled with tears.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Was it something I said?”

“No, no, don’t apologize. It’s just that my husband felt that way about me before he died. My Wellington wasn’t a perfect man but the one thing I knew for sure was my husband loved me with all his heart. Doubt I’ll ever love like that again but I haven’t given up. There are a few good men like you, somewhere out there.” She released a long sigh. “Listen to me. Going on about myself when I should be listening to you.”

“I’ve got people. If there’s anything I can do to help you find your future fiancée, you have my number.”

“I appreciate your offer,” I said, touching her hand. Jada could be my backup if Sapphire wasn’t dedicated to finding Honey. I wrote Honey’s names, birth location, and what little information I had on Valentino and Immaculate Perception.

I had no idea what compelled her but Jada leaned my head on her shoulder, held my hand, and comforted me until our flight arrived in Atlanta. Maybe I was the one comforting her.