When Somebody Loves You Back Page 6

  Ciara had scars. Maxine. Kimberly too. Darius had none. Physically, that is. Emotionally. Two. Thaddeus and…the second one, not his HIV scare, was unmentionable. Darius wasn’t even sorry that his past relationships didn’t last.

  “What happed to your toe?” Darius asked, reaching for Ashlee’s foot. “It looks dead. You’d better get that checked out before it falls off.”

  Blocking his hand, Ashlee said, “I dropped your dumbbell on it.”

  “You had a field day going through my things, didn’t you?” Before Ashlee answered, Darius held his hand up and said, “I know, our things.”

  “No, you’re right. Those are your things. But can’t you see I just want to be a part of your life? Like I used to be when we were kids, when we lived together, worked together, made love together.” Hanging her head, Ashlee continued, “When you actually cared about me. We have a—” Ashlee sighed.

  Darius held Ashlee’s hands. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Ashlee, I do care about you.” If she only knew how much. “But the things you’re doing are only pushing me further away.”

  “Further?” Beet-red tearful eyes confronted him as Ashlee yelled, “This is not about you! It’s about me! Why can’t you care about anyone else! Why do you have to turn everything around? Nothing is ever your damn fault!”

  Darius’s eyes shifted away from Ashlee. She had no idea how awful he felt about abandoning her. Better to leave her before she would’ve left him. No need to mention the times he did try contacting her and she chose to ignore him. Defending his irresponsibility, Darius yelled, “But you were the one who fucked my brother!”

  Ashlee covered her face, crying. “Here we go again. How many times am I going to have to say I’m sorry? I wanted to use Kevin to get back at you for all the things you’d done to me. I never loved Kevin.”

  She didn’t? Although he’d refused to ask, he was relieved to know. That meant the only man she’d ever loved was him. Comforting Ashlee, Darius secured her in his embrace. “Let’s forget about Kevin.” But he’d never forgive or trust Ashlee or Kevin again.

  Kevin’s stealing ass was getting out of jail on a technicality. The embezzlement charges for the million dollars Kevin had stolen from Darius’s company, Somebody’s Gotta Be on Top, were dropped after Darius’s father Darryl pleaded with Darius not put Kevin behind bars. The only reason Darius agreed was to please his father. Whatever, after Darius got what he wanted from Ashlee he’d leave her alone, for good this time.

  When Ashlee raised her arms to hug him, the stench invaded his nostrils. “Make love to me, Darius. I need you.”

  “Whoa, didn’t you tell me you were and I might be—” Darius said, backing away while covering his nose.

  “I’m not sure about all that, but we can use protection because I can’t remember what I did with my abortion pills. I keep condoms with me, though. I need you to love me.”

  “Well, personally, I need you to freshen up. Slugger won’t, make that can’t, get hard with that odor lingering.” And if her underarms stunk up the place, Darius could only imagine that crevices of her pussy smelled like wolf.

  Removing the do-rag and T-shirt, Ashlee said, “I’ll be right out.”

  “Take your time. Please.”

  Waiting for Ashlee, Darius turned on the television. His cell phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, he saw it was Fancy. Darius silenced the call and turned off the phone with one prolonged press of a button. Easier to lie and say his battery died. Placing his phone on the desk, Darius paused, staring at Ashlee’s purse. He looked at the bathroom door, turned up the television, then rumbled through Ashlee’s bag to retrieve all of her keys except the obviously tagged rental car key. “SUV? HH2…that was her car?” Fumbling, grasping more keys, Darius dropped the keys from his hands inside the purse when he saw a worn picture of Ashlee, little Darius, and himself that was taken at the hospital the day his son was born. The edges were bent with lines creasing the middle, but that was his son. A lump, too big to swallow, formed in his throat. Darius frowned. “Stop trippin’, dog. He’s dead.”

  What type of man would Darius have raised his son to be?

  “What are you doing?” Ashlee asked, standing behind Darius. Water dripped over her nipples. “Give me my purse.”

  “I was trying to get a head start. I was looking for your condoms. You lied. You don’t have any.”

  Turning her back, then holding up a cosmetics case, Ashlee said, “I do.”

  Taking the condom pack, Darius unbuckled his pants, lowered them to his knees, rolled the condom halfway up his shaft before it stopped. Unrolling the condom, Darius dug in his pocket, removed a gold Magnum packet, and covered his dick.

  Darius forced the image of his son out of his mind. “Turn around. I want to fuck you from behind.” What he really wanted was not to look Ashlee in her eyes, or start conjuring feelings for her.

  “No, Darius. I want you to look at me,” Ashlee said, lying missionary style on the comforter.

  Climbing on top of Ashlee, Darius raised her pelvis to his hips, penetrating his head inside a pussy. “Aw, you feel so good.” Not knowing when he’d have sex again, he stoked her long, deep, and slow, pretending he didn’t know her. “Your pussy is so warm, ah, so sweet, and damn so tight.”

  Ashlee whispered, “Your pussy. This is your pussy, Darius. Only yours.”

  The hell it is. Closing his eyes, Darius leaned his head back and pressed his dick as deep as he could inside her. Then he pulled out and commanded, “Turn over.”

  This time Ashlee didn’t refuse. Reentering her from behind, Darius pounded his dick. Quick. Fast. Hard. Faster. Harder. “Aw, shit!” His hips smacked against her ass, which turned redder and redder. “Aw, shit! Cum with Daddy. Cum with me, La-dee—cum with me, damn it!” he yelled, slapping her ass hard so she’d be too busy cumming to question him, almost calling her Fancy’s nickname.

  Ashlee collapsed into the bed. “When was the last time you got some?”

  “You a trip. You don’t wanna know the answer to that,” Darius said, shaking his heads. With his pants around his ankles, he took baby steps, entering the bathroom. Darius snapped off the condom, held it over the toilet, then threw up. “What the hell?” His stomach tightened. “Shit! Man, what kind of pussy was that? Is this payback? Fuck!” he yelled, bellowing champagne and particles from the partially digested tablets into the white porcelain bowl.

  “Damn, I shouldn’t have taken those tablets on an empty stomach.” Darius’s body weakened as he flushed the last of what he’d regurgitated.

  Running warm water in the sink, Darius rinsed his mouth, splashed water on his face, dipped his dick, lathered, rinsed, quickly dried himself off, then exited into the bedroom before Ashlee thought of some more devious shit to do to him.

  Darius pulled up his pants, stretched across the bed on his back, and laid Ashlee’s head on his chest.

  “I want you to get rid of her,” Ashlee sleepily said.

  When would she give up? Rolling his eyes under his lids, Darius felt slightly better but awfully nauseated. “It’s not that simple.” he kissed Ashlee’s forehead.

  “It was when you got rid of me.”

  “Give me some time. I’ve got a lotta things going on right now,” Darius said, stroking Ashlee’s hair. When she didn’t respond, he looked down. Ashlee had fallen asleep. Snooorrreee, lightly whistled from her lips.

  Easing from underneath Ashlee, Darius gently placed a pillow under her head. Digging in his pocket, he tossed five hundred dollars on the table, then quickly scribbled a note that read Take a taxi back to your SUV and never contact me again. Darius quietly fumbled through Ashlee’s tote, removed all of her keys—except the rental car key. He took the family photo of them together, and then tiptoed out of the hotel room.

  Some women never knew when to quit.

  CHAPTER 7

  Darius

  “Oh, wee! A brotha’s feelin’ kinda nice,” Darius said, holding hi
s dick while waiting for the elevator. Mentally he’d willed himself back to health, focusing on the good stuff. “Come on, man before she wakes up.”

  Press. Press. Press.

  Ding!

  “It’s about time.” Darius touched the L button, admiring his handsome smiling face in the mirror.

  The doors opened. “Oh, shit!” Lowering his head, Darius turned his face away from the registration desk. “That nosy chick is still working.”

  “Bye, Mr. Williams. It was my pleasure having you. Do come again,” she said, laughing, returning to her conversation with her coworker. All Darius heard was, “Girrlll, let me tell you about him.”

  How in the fuck was she going to tell somebody about him when all she knew was what she’d read in the newspaper? Women like her were the reason Darius didn’t share his dick with groupies. Retrieving his car from the valet attendant, he proceeded to his original destination before he had been abruptly sidetracked by Ashlee. He’d watch the videos recorded by his hidden cameras of her roaming throughout his house later. No, on second thought, he wouldn’t. Ashlee wasn’t worth him spending that much time tracing her steps, but he’d have every single lock in his home changed immediately. Now that he had her keys to his house and her house, Ashlee would never trespass on his property again.

  Darius drove along the freeway, lowered his window, tossed out Ashlee’s keys. She had no reason to see him again. None. Fucking Ashlee took a dead weight off his shoulders and his dick. Finally, Slugger was momentarily satisfied. In or out of the bedroom, Ashlee didn’t compare to Fancy. Ashlee was his best friend and stepsister since they were kids, so conceivably they might never stop loving one another, but Darius wouldn’t marry Ashlee if she were the only pussy on his jock. Yeah, he was spoiled but whose fault was that?

  Reflecting on his upbringing, Darius thought his childhood was better than most kids’. His mom, Jada Diamond Tanner, was a self-made millionaire all of his life, making him a millionaire the second he was conceived. There was nothing that Darius wanted, didn’t have, couldn’t get, including women. But like most children, he’d taken his mother for granted. That she’d always be there for him no matter what he’d done. This time he’d committed the unthinkable, unimaginable, unbelievable. If God delivered him once, He shouldn’t have to deliver him again. He could. But would He?

  Powering on his cell phone, Darius listened to his messages. “Darius, call me—” Darius deleted the call when he heard Fancy inhale. “Darius, you bastard! Where the fuck are my keys!” Ashlee yelled. Darius turned off his phone, tossing it into the passenger seat. Women. His passion. Their problem.

  Darius’s time had come to grow up and become a man. A real man. This time was different because he actually wanted to do the right thing—things. If not now…when? Tired of hurting people, he questioned his purpose in life, rotating the ignition key counterclockwise, silencing his engine. The music continued playing.

  “It’s so good, loving somebody, when that somebody loves you back.”

  Who did he honestly love? Feeling his eyebrows draw into a uni-brow, Darius listened to the lyrics while staring at her front door. He did love her. But not more than she loved him. Love was never fifty, fifty. But ninety, ten? That was below friendship level. Well, he had to confront her at some point, so Darius slowly opened his car door.

  Thump.

  The tan leather sole of his left shoe greeted the dark asphalt. The cool California before sunrise breeze invaded his cheeks, numbing his spirit. Los Angeles could be a cold place any time of the day or night.

  Thump.

  Or was his numbness the result of his eternal internal pain?

  Thump.

  A woman could make a man both numb and cold. The black leather square-toed shoes resounded up the driveway, stopping side by side at their destination. Fearful, Darius stood facing her solid oak double doors. In his deepest moment of needing her, why did she have to need him?

  The palm of his hand covered his nose, his not knowing which was colder, sliding to his lips, then over his chin, casually flopping along his side. His full lips disappeared into his mouth. Tears swelled; he clenched his bottom lip between his perfect teeth, preventing the outpouring of depression drowning his heart.

  Good looks didn’t mean shit when he felt like shit on the inside. His chest tightened as he prayed the bad news he’d received from Ashlee wasn’t true. Why didn’t he demand more information from her at the hotel? His right foot crossed over his left. About-face, he pivoted. Today wasn’t a good day. For him. Maybe he’d come back to console her, tomorrow.

  Thump. Thump. Thump…screech.

  Halfway to his car, Darius stopped, closed his eyes, exhaling, knowing she stood in the doorway staring at his back. Rubbing his hand over his shoulder-length locks, he paused.

  “Hi, sweetheart” resonated from behind. He’d recognized her soothing voice all of his life. But he wasn’t quite ready to face her.

  Without turning around, Darius opened his eyes and answered, “I forgot something in my car, I’ll be right in.” He’d lied to her, hopefully for the last time.

  Click. Her front door gently closed.

  Bam…He shut his car door. Soft orange and red hues reached to the dark blue sky. The keys dangled from the ignition. He could leave before the break of dawn exposed him, but how long would he run away from his responsibility to her? Gripping the top of his steering wheel, he clung with his forearms to the cherry-wood circle. Both elbows indented his muscular thighs. Teddy Pendergrass’s vocals strummed to the beat of Darius’s heart…it was good loving someone…but how would she know? He’d never unconditionally loved her back.

  “Why me, Lord? Why now? Why this? Just when I was trying to do the right thing and get married, why all the temptations?”

  Sobbing not so sobering tears, Darius knew he hadn’t treated most of the women in his life right, especially his mother, but he was working on it. Didn’t he deserve some credit for trying? Instead he might be dying. What a fucked-up world to live in, when having an orgasm, something that felt so incredible, could mark the beginning of the end his life. Women were definitely more scandalous than men.

  It wasn’t his fault his wife, Ciara, hadn’t signed the divorce papers so Darius had to cancel marrying Fancy; otherwise, he’d become a bigamist. Darius wasn’t going back to jail for nobody, including Fancy. It wasn’t his fault his mother caught her husband cheating again or that his mother’s husband was diagnosed with prostate cancer.

  Karma was a muthafucka.

  Wellington got what he deserved. Who gave a damn if Wellington’s dick didn’t work anymore? Wellington brought that bullshit upon himself fucking that good-for-nothing, got-nothin’-to-lose, trifling-ass ho, Melanie. Nor was it Darius’s fault his stepsister’s newborn baby had died of complications. But if Ashlee’s son was in fact his son, then perhaps he was to blame.

  “Fuck!” Darius yelled, banging his head against his knuckles.

  “Why does this shit always fuckin’ happen to me!”

  Screech.

  Sniffling, then holding his breath, he heard the door reopen. Shifting his eyes to the corners, he exhaled, seeing her slender silhouette through his passenger window. Oh my gosh, he thought, seeing how much weight she’d lost. Ten, maybe fifteen pounds.

  Okay, man. Pull yourself together. She needs you. Lowering his head, leaning into the glove compartment, Darius retrieved a napkin, wiped his face, blew his nose, and then crumbled the tissue into his hand before dropping the white paper to the floor. Turning on his cell phone before slipping it into his pocket, he retraced his footsteps to her front door. Now would be a good time for Fancy to give him a reason to leave.

  “Hi, Mom.” He paused, noticing the swelling barely exposing her hazel eyes. He wanted to say, “Ma, you look terrible,” but instead he whispered, “How are you?”

  Silently, she hugged his waist, resting her head below his chest. Her hugs always comforted him. He towered six feet eleven inches in the ai
r. She held him tight and didn’t let go. Her face clung to his already soaked white button-up shirt, drenching it more. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, his long fingers sprawling about the back of her head in his desire to comfort her.

  Pulling her closer, he whispered with sorrow, “It’s all right. Whateva it is, Ma, it’s gonna be all right. I’m here for you.” And for the first time, in his heart and soul, he meant it.

  She muttered, “Wellington has to have surgery. Soon. Will you stay with me a few days and go with me to the hospital the day of his surgery? Please, baby. I need you.”

  As much as Darius hated the way Wellington misused him and his mother, he said, “Yeah, Ma, sure. Anything for you. I’ll stay until it’s time for his surgery and I’ll go with you to the hospital.” Tears flowed down his face, splattering onto his mother’s head.

  She didn’t care about him messing up her hair. Darius didn’t care either, about Wellington, that is. Darius had his own problems. So while his mother stood in the doorway crying about her husband, Darius cried too, praying the Lord would spare him once more from having HIV.

  CHAPTER 8

  Fancy

  Boom. Ba-boom-boom. Boom!

  “Oh my gosh!”

  Fancy wrestled with the purple duvet. The vibration reverberated, shaking the mattress. “Earthquake!” she screamed, rolling out of the bed. Her feet landed catlike on the floor, balancing her ass and shoulders until they were in alignment. The aftershock followed.

  Boom! Throw your muthafuckin’ hands up!

  Racing into the hallway, Fancy flattened her palms over her ears, scurried downstairs, then darted into the living room, desperately searching for the source of the loudest noise she ever heard. With a hand covering her pounding heart, frantically she’d pressed the power button on the stereo. Her palm patted her breasts, then massaged her neck.

  “Whew! My gosh,” she said, stretching her eyes, rattling her head, breathing deeply. “Darius,” she gasped, “where are you?” Fancy stood dazed in the middle of the floor trying to slow her accelerated heartbeat. “Darius.”