If I Can't Have You Read online

  Also by Mary B. Morrison

  The Eternal Engagement

  Darius Jones

  Unconditionally Single

  Maneater (with Noire)

  Who’s Loving You

  Sweeter Than Honey

  When Somebody Loves You Back

  Nothing Has Ever Felt Like This

  Somebody’s Gotta Be on Top

  He’s Just a Friend

  Never Again Once More

  Soulmates Dissipate

  Who’s Making Love

  Justice Just Us Just Me

  Coauthored with Carl Weber

  She Ain’t the One

  Mary B. Morrison writing as HoneyB

  Married on Mondays

  Single Husbands

  Sexcapades

  Presented by Mary B. Morrison

  Diverse Stories: From the Imaginations of Sixth Graders

  (an anthology of fiction written by thirty-three sixth graders)

  If I Can’t Have You

  MARY B. MORRISON

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Also by Mary B. Morrison

  Title Page

  Acknowledgments

  PROLOGUE - Granville

  CHAPTER 1 - Madison

  CHAPTER 2 - Loretta

  CHAPTER 3 - Chicago

  CHAPTER 4 - Granville

  CHAPTER 5 - Madison

  CHAPTER 6 - Loretta

  CHAPTER 7 - Chicago

  CHAPTER 8 - Granville

  CHAPTER 9 - Madison

  CHAPTER 10 - Loretta

  CHAPTER 11 - Chicago

  CHAPTER 12 - Madison

  CHAPTER 13 - Granville

  CHAPTER 14 - Madison

  CHAPTER 15 - Madison

  CHAPTER 16 - Madison

  CHAPTER 17 - Loretta

  CHAPTER 18 - Loretta

  CHAPTER 19 - Loretta

  CHAPTER 20 - Chicago

  CHAPTER 21 - Granville

  CHAPTER 22 - Madison

  CHAPTER 23 - Loretta

  CHAPTER 24 - Madison

  CHAPTER 25 - Madison

  CHAPTER 26 - Granville

  CHAPTER 27 - Chicago

  CHAPTER 28 - Loretta

  CHAPTER 29 - Loretta

  CHAPTER 30 - Madison

  CHAPTER 31 - Loretta

  CHAPTER 32 - Madison

  CHAPTER 33 - Granville

  CHAPTER 34 - Madison

  CHAPTER 35 - Madison

  CHAPTER 36 - Chicago

  CHAPTER 37 - Loretta

  CHAPTER 38 - Chicago

  CHAPTER 39 - Granville

  CHAPTER 40 - Madison

  CHAPTER 41 - Granville

  CHAPTER 42 - Madison

  CHAPTER 43 - Loretta

  CHAPTER 44 - Chicago

  CHAPTER 45 - Loretta

  CHAPTER 46 - Madison

  CHAPTER 47 - Loretta

  CHAPTER 48 - Madison

  Discussion Questions

  Breast Cancer Awareness

  Breast Cancer Awareness

  Breast Cancer Awareness

  Protective/Restraining Orders

  The Rich Girls Club by HoneyB

  Copyright Page

  Breast Cancer Survivors

  Margie Rickerson, my sister

  Myrenia Harris, my friend

  Breast Cancer Warriors

  Marion Bean, my sister’s best friend

  Lucille Baloney, my grandmother, and

  Mary Ann Henry-Barnes, my aunt

  Your greatest fear shall come upon you.

  Acknowledgments

  Life is an awesome journey through the unknown, a priceless adventure of countless experiences. We are the pilots of our passion. We never control the outcome of our choices, but with each step we navigate the road ahead. What you do with your life is up to you and nobody else. It’s impossible to be everything to everybody. Please don’t die before you decide to live to the fullest. Release your sexual inhibitions. Dance naked in the rain. Love and make love to yourself; you’ll be happier.

  Remember, no man acquires success independent of another. For my achievements I’m thankful to the Creator, my publishers, editors, family, friends, and to each of you. I acknowledge and appreciate your emotional and financial support. You are a blessing to me and I pray somehow, even in a small way, that I, too, have or will positively influence you.

  Darrin Gipson (Grand Lux Cafe) of Houston, Texas; Jay Fountain, Battalion Chief, Port Arthur Fire Station No. 1; Officer Mark Temple, Clemetric Thomas-Frazier, Ron Lockett, LaToya Fontenot, Mrs. Kathleen Fontenot, Rick Smith, and the Honorable Vanessa Gilmore, I thank you for welcoming me to your wonderful cities of Houston and Port Arthur. The information each of you provided is priceless.

  The main reason I smile is because of my son, Jesse Bernard Byrd Jr. Honey, you’re the best. I’m proud to be your mom and I love you unconditionally. Another reason is my guardian angels—my mother, Elester Noel; my father, Joseph Henry Morrison; my great aunt, Ella Beatrice Turner; and my great uncle, Willie Frinkle—always lift me up when I need them. Wayne, Andrea, Derrick, and Regina Morrison, Margie Rickerson, and Debra Noel are my siblings. Thanks, guys, for always believing in me. A special thanks to Richard C. Montgomery and Barbara Cooper for your continued support and unconditional love.

  I genuinely appreciate all my Facebook friends and fans, my Twitter followers, MySpace crew, and my McDonogh 35 Senior High alumni. Happy thirtieth reunion to my class of 1982!

  Thanks to my editor and friend, Selena James, at Kensington Publishing Corporation. To Steven Zacharius, Adam Zacharius, Laurie Parkin, Karen Auerbach, Adeola Saul, Lesleigh Irish-Underwood, and everyone else at Kensington for growing my literary career.

  In loving memory of Walter Zacharius. I miss you. It is my honor to be a part of your undying legacy to the world of literature. Your spirit will dwell within me forever.

  Well, what’s an author without brilliant agents? I’m fortunate to have two of the best agents in the literary business, Andrew Stuart and Claudia Menza. You are appreciated.

  I thank everyone that is making the Soulmates Dissipate seven-film project possible—director/producer Leslie Small; Jeff Clanagan, CEO of Codeblack Entertainment; and producers, Dawn Mallory and Jesse Byrd Jr.

  Wishing each of you peace and prosperity in abundance. Visit me online at www.MaryMorrison.com and sign up for my HoneyBuzz newsletter. Join my fan page on Facebook at Mary HoneyB Morrison, and follow me on Twitter @marybmorrison.

  PROLOGUE

  Granville

  “I came to tell you something,” she said softly.

  Loretta sat across the table from me at our favorite restaurant, Grand Lux Cafe, on Westheimer Road. Her naturally chocolate lips were perfectly painted with that sweet raspberry gloss I’d tasted twenty-three times. I wanted to lean over the table, suck it all off, up my count to twenty-four.

  “You look ravishing,” I growled, then snapped my teeth. I complimented her all the time because I never wanted my Loretta to think I’d ever take her for granted.

  Finishing my third beer, I’d been anxiously waiting for her for almost an hour. I had arrived thirty minutes early. She was equally as late. She’d texted me earlier that she had to wait for her mom to get to her house so her mother could watch her little girl. She wanted to postpone our date until tomorrow, after her daughter’s father picked up their child for the weekend, but I insisted on seeing her today. I couldn’t wait another twenty-four hours to gaze into her large brown eyes. Plus, I wasn’t good at keeping surprises a secret.

  “I ordered you your favorite martini, but it’s
warm now. I’ll get you another one.... Excuse me, Darrin, a fresh lemon drop for my baby, please,” I said, handing him the glass. I’d been there long enough to know a few things about the waiter, like he was twenty-three, had a deep voice, which made me slightly envious, and we were both Houston Texans’ fans.

  Darrin nodded at Loretta. “Glad you made it. I’ll be right back with that—”

  She shook her head. “No, but thanks. I’m not drinking today.”

  “Then I’ll get you some water,” Darrin said, then asked me, “Sir, another beer?”

  I nodded. I was feeling good and wanted to keep my buzz going.

  Loretta’s big brown eyes connected with mine. When her thick lips parted, my dick got hard, making me reminisce about the first and last time she’d given me fellatio. Loretta had said, “I’m never sucking your dick again,” because I came too fast. Hopefully, she’d change her mind; but if not, that was okay with me as long as she kissed me somewhere.

  Today was special. I’d requested a booth for us. Sliding close to the window, I said, “Come sit next to me.”

  She shook her head. “I’m good.”

  The space between the high red velvet cushion behind my back and the edge of the table grazing my stomach was a little snug for my wide midsection, but the smooth vinyl seating comforted my rock-hard rear end. My muscular body was still fit from when I wrestled in high school, and I earned my money doing construction work for the past twenty-five.

  As I stared outside, there wasn’t much of a view, except rows of cars and the stores’ signage for Sport Clips, Nothing Bundt Cakes, and Stride Rite on the other side of the parking lot.

  I looked at my girl and moved back to the middle of the booth so I could sit directly across from her. Her wide pink tongue peeped at me, commanding my attention. The scent of fresh bubble gum traveled from her mouth to my nose when she sighed. Loretta’s mouth was always inviting. I winked at her, then smiled.

  “You know what you just did to me, right? You gave me another woody,” I whispered. “You gave me a woody.” Then I started grinning.

  Sighing heavily, she said, “Your dick is always hard.”

  I lifted my brows twice, narrowed my eyes, and kept smiling at her. She made me feel sexy; she had done things to me no other woman had. She’d once tied me to my bed—naked, except for my cowboy boots—then rode me like she was a cowgirl and I was her bucking bull. My bald head banged against the headboard as I screamed, “Loretta!”

  My woman exhaled and rolled her eyes to the corners; then she returned her gaze to me. Her stare was dreamy. Or maybe it was my reflection that I saw. It didn’t matter. Either way, I was in love.

  If she said she was pregnant, she’d make me the happiest man in the world. I swear, I’d jump on the table, wave my big Texas hat, and shout to everyone in hearing range, “We’re pregnant!”

  Yelling too loud would hurt my throat. But the announcement of my very first kid would be worth the joy and pain. Twenty years ago, when I was twenty-five, I was shot in the shoulder and the bullet grazed my vocal cord. The damage was permanent; my voice was still deep, but since that day it’s been scratchy. When I first met Loretta, she thought I was hoarse. The louder I tried to speak, the more it hurt, but I loved to talk. I was brilliant and enjoyed sharing my wisdom with anyone who’d listen. Some women actually thought my voice was sexy. But not Loretta. When I talked too much, I annoyed her.

  My baby rubbed the side of her nose. “I don’t want to go out with you anymore. You’re nice and all, but I can’t do this again. I met you here to let you know that this is our last date.”

  Not another “let’s just kiss and say good-bye” bitch.

  Usually, I’d want to ram my tongue down her throat and give her one of my juicy kisses, letting the saliva drain from my mouth to hers. Now all I wanted to shove in her mouth was my huge fist. Rip away that yellow blouse with the dangling collar, bite her breasts. Raise up her short skirt, spread her legs with my thigh, give her this woody throbbing against my zipper. Making her cum would make her stay with me.

  The restaurant was packed on this blazing hot afternoon. Lucky for her, we were not alone. That, and I didn’t hit ladies for no reason—even when I felt they deserved a slap or two.

  An affectionate pat on the back from me had sent a few grown men stumbling. “Watch it,” Loretta would scold when I touched her face. Then she’d ask, “When was the last time you washed your hands?”

  Most of the time I had no idea. I was a manly man, operated heavy machinery, and used my hands to haul bricks and dig ditches. There was no way I was going to run to a restroom every time I felt like touching her.

  It was my turn to exhale. “I don’t understand. I thought things between us were getting better.”

  “For you,” she said.

  Frowning, I said, “For me? I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do. I even went to that sex therapist you recommended, Numbiya Aziz. I can’t lie. She taught me some things. Especially how to take my time when making love to you. Now that I know how to make you cum really hard, you can’t deny the sex between us is the best you’ve ever had. Right?”

  “For you,” she said again.

  Bitch, if you say that shit one more time!

  I wiggled my brows, pressed my lips together, then smiled. The heel of my custom-made boot lifted, then thumped to the floor. Again and again. Suddenly my jeans felt too tight. I shook my left leg sideways, rubbed my thigh.

  Darrin placed Loretta’s water and my beer on the table.

  “What about the lingerie I just bought you? You trying to use me? You gon’ put my shit on for some other nigga?”

  Darrin quietly walked away.

  Loretta opened her oversized blue Coach purse, handed me a red plastic Frederick’s bag. “I thought you’d bring that up. I never wore them. Everything is there, including the receipt.”

  She placed the bag on the table. I left it there. I didn’t want no fucking refund. I wanted her!

  “Tell me what your problem is. Give me a chance to fix it,” I pleaded. This woman was close to making me act irate, like a guest on an old episode of The Jerry Springer Show. What was I supposed to do with the $15,000 ring in my damn pocket? She was the one who’d told me that a man had to spend at least two months of his salary on an engagement ring. That was her way of asking me to marry her.

  Her eyes turned red as she said, “I’m not the problem. You are. I’m tired of telling you that you talk too much. Your voice is irritating. You don’t listen to what I have to say. Your shoving your tongue down my throat, draining your bodily fluids into my mouth, is horrible, but you think each kiss is ‘the best kiss ever.’ You think we’re in a relationship, when I keep telling you . . . we’re not!”

  “We are in a relationship!”

  “I’m not your woman.”

  Staring her down, I had to break her. Make her see things my way. I told her, “You are my woman. We talk on the phone every day. We go out every other day. And we’ve had great sex. Any decent woman would expect me to be her man. What’s wrong with you?”

  “You. I’ve only known you for three weeks and my stress level has gone from calm to calamity.” Loretta slid to the edge of the booth. “As nice as you appear to be, you are not the man for me. You’re not the guy for any woman, Granville. You need help. Medication. Something. I barely know you. You’re too possessive. I could go on and on, but... ,” she said, standing in front of me. “Take care of yourself.”

  Bitch, you’re the one who gave it up and sucked my dick on the first date.

  There was someone for everyone, and Loretta was mine. I couldn’t let the love of my life walk away from me. I grabbed her wrist. “But we haven’t eaten. Look, I’m sorry. I apologize. I love you, Loretta. If you think I need meds, I’ll make us an appointment to see my doctor. Sit down. Let’s have lunch. You talk. I’ll listen. You’re right.”

  “And you’re desperate. Let go of me.” She jerked her arm.

  I w
anted to release her, but I couldn’t let go. What if she was serious? What if I never saw her again? My fingers tightened. Worse, what if she was trying to leave me for another man? I felt sweat beading on my head, then streaming down my forehead. I wiped my nose.

  Darrin rushed over to our table. “You okay?” he asked Loretta.

  Loretta picked up her glass of water and tossed it in my face. Darrin took off. This was one of those few moments when Loretta made me want to hit her. The first time had to be an open-hand slap. Second time, backhand. Third, fist to the face if the bitch disrespected me. But abusing her in public would land me behind bars.

  Maybe I was overreacting. She was probably trying to cool me off. Maybe. I rattled my head to shake off the excess water. She jerked her arm again.

  Why was Loretta treating me this way? All I tried to do was take good care of her. Treat her with respect. Buy her nice things. The first time I bought her daughter a gift, she gave it back saying, “The only men who are allowed to give my princess gifts are her dad and her grandfathers. That’s it.”

  I respected that, because I had to, but what woman wouldn’t let her man take care of her child? We were a family. I was willing to help her work out her issues if she’d give me the chance.

  I dug deep into my pocket. I pulled out two 20-dollar bills and placed them on the table. Then I reached into my other pocket, pulled out the ring, held the box in my palm, flipped it open with my thumb, and knelt on one knee. Still holding on, I stared up at her.

  “Marry me, Loretta.” The shine from the bling made me smile.

  “For real? You expect that will make me say ‘yes.’ ” I squeezed her wrist as tight as I could, until she screamed, “Ow! Let me go!”

  The people staring at me were supposed to be cheering for me, for us. I dumped the ring in my palm, snapped the box closed, jammed the box in my pocket, staggered to my feet. The baby I wanted us to have wasn’t growing inside her? The woman I loved had to have a reason to love me too. Anger festered inside me as she broke my heart and my grip, then slapped my face.