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Authors: Angie Daniels

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BOOK: In The Company of My Sistahs
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Chapter 7
NADINE
“
D
o you have any other forms of ID?” the agent asked as she handed Nadine back the useless document.
Nadine looked down at her purse. She could already hear Renee saying, “I told you so.”
“I have an expired passport.” She handed it to the lady.
The blonde nodded. “This will do. You are going to have to wait a few minutes while I type up some paperwork for you to sign.”
Nadine nodded, feeling relieved as the agent moved behind a counter. She took a seat and watched the woman's fingers fly across the keyboard as she typed.
Typing had never been one of Nadine's strong points. While she was married, if she ever needed anything important done, she'd asked her husband's secretary to help her. Carla had definitely been an asset. At least that's what Nadine had thought before she had decided to come home from work early one afternoon.
It had to have been about three years ago. Around the time she was working as a paralegal.
She remembered being worried because her husband, Arthur, hadn't touched her in weeks. She told herself it was because she was going to law school and trying to also work part-time. Her husband worked second shift. When they did have time they were usually too tired for sex. But deep down she believed it was because she wasn't trying hard enough to find the time. That last year, she had felt like something had been missing.
During the beginning of their twelve-year marriage, even when they were busy they always found time for sex. In the bathroom. On the kitchen counter. On the floor in front of the fireplace. They made the most of their time together, especially on the weekends. Before her son was born they would even hide out at a hotel all weekend, making love and ordering room service.
Those were the days and she had wanted it back. Her mind had begun to wander into areas that she didn't care to explore and suddenly she panicked and wanted her marriage to be everything it used to be. That's why while on her way to work one morning, while thinking about her husband still lying in bed home alone, she decided to call in sick. Nadine then pulled into the nearest Wal-Mart and rushed inside. She grabbed a cart and moved to the lingerie section, where she picked out a sexy teddy that could barely contain her breasts. She then moved to the health and beauty, where she bought a box of Summer's Eve and a bottle of mango-scented body lotion. Arthur always said he loved when she smelled good enough to eat. As soon as the cashier put Nadine's purchases in a bag, Nadine rushed into the handicapped bathroom stall, where she douched, rubbed lotion all over her body, and slipped into the teddy. She then slid back into her black three-inch pumps and long black trench. With her suit stuffed into the bag, she exited the building and chuckled all the way to the car. On the drive home, she swung by a small diner and ordered breakfast for two and carried out two Styrofoam containers.
When she reached their subdivision, Nadine drove around the block and pulled onto her street. In order for her return to be a surprise, she parked in front of the house next door. She quietly slipped through the side door, slid out of the coat, then took a deep breath as she reached for the Styrofoam containers and sashayed up toward their room. As soon as she hit the top step she heard the moans and frowned. Arthur knew how much she hated him watching dirty movies. But as she moved down the hall, she decided maybe this was one time they could watch a movie together. With the return of her smile, she swung her wide hips into their bedroom.
She froze when she spotted her husband between some blond bitch's legs.
“What the fuck!”
The two of them jumped and she realized it was his secretary, Carla. The two couldn't shield their naked bodies fast enough.
“Hold on, I got something for both y'all asses.” She tossed the first container of food at blondie. The second hit the headboard above Arthur's head.
“Damn, Nadine, hold up!”
“Nah, you hold up!” She grabbed Carla by her ponytail before she could run out the door and sent her naked ass flying across the room. Nadine then moved over to the closet, reached into a box on the shelf, and removed a .38.
“Nadine, now you trippin'!” Arthur shouted.
“Trippin', I'll show yo ass trippin'.” She fired a shot and blew out the television. Arthur jumped back onto the bed. Carla was crouched down in a corner, scrambled eggs hanging from her eyelids.
“Please, I'm sorry,” she begged with snot running from her nose.
“Get your ass out my house, now!” Nadine ordered.
Carla reached for her clothes.
“Uh-uh! No clothes. You bold enough to fuck my husband in my house, then you're bold enough to run your lily-white ass out that door.”
Carla didn't give the idea a second thought as she dashed out the room. Arthur tried to run behind her. Nadine cocked the gun. “Not you.”
He held up his hands, pleading with his eyes. “Come on, baby, I made a mistake.”
“And what mistake was that. Getting caught?”
“No, trying to mess around.”
Nadine lifted her right hand and pointed the gun at his face. “Oh, you're right. You made a mistake. You didn't even have enough respect for me to use a condom.”
“It just happened.”
“Carla just happened to be laying butt naked in my bed with your dick buried inside her pussy. You must think I'm some kinda fool. Now get your punk-ass up!” she screamed. He quickly moved to his feet. “Now move your ass downstairs.”
Arthur was shaking. “Damn, at least let me put on some clothes.”
Her voice was as cold as ice. “You shoulda thought about that before you disrespect me. Now get to stepping.”
He decided to play tough. “I ain't going no damn where.”
Nadine didn't realize she had fired another shot until she heard him scream.
“You shot me in the ass!”
She gave a hysterical laugh. “Next time I'm aiming for your head. Now move!” She made him crawl down the driveway. The entire time he pleaded and begged for his life. He was halfway up the street, leaving behind a trail of blood, before the police arrived.
Arthur and his ho pressed charges. Luckily for Nadine, one of the lawyers at her law firm was able to get her off on a temporary insanity plea.
“You okay?” Lisa asked, nudging her from her thoughts.
Nadine blinked, pushed the images aside, then laughed self-consciously. “Yeah, everything's fine. I should be ready in a few minutes.”
Lisa smiled, looking pleased by her response, then turned to join the others.
Nadine allowed her eyes to travel over to the agent who was completing her paperwork and found herself admiring her delicate features. Realizing what she was doing, she released a frustrated breath. She didn't realize how badly she needed this trip until now. First her marriage. Now this. She crossed her legs as the things she preferred not to think about pushed to the surface.
Jordan Justice.
If anyone had told her she would have fallen for Jordan she would have never believed it. She allowed herself to get caught up and tangled in a web. Now she was so in love she couldn't think straight. That was why she had to let go. That was why they'd had a heated argument two nights ago that ended in her tossing a priceless piece across the room, causing it to shatter into hundreds of little pieces.
Jordan wanted to live together. To let the whole world know that they were in love. Only Nadine couldn't bring herself to do it because deep down inside she still had not found a way to accept their relationship. Guilt overwhelmed her every time she thought about it because Jordan had a wonderful heart and was a good person, yet Nadine could not accept that she was in love with another woman.
Chapter 8
RENEE
A
s the plane prepared for takeoff, I fastened my seatbelt and closed my eyes.
“I thought you were going to read.”
I opened one eye, glanced at Kayla, who was sitting next to me, then shut it again. “I changed my mind. I suddenly feel worn out.”
“That's because Vince had your legs in the air all night. I bet you didn't get any sleep.”
I laughed. “True that.”
Kayla pursed her lips with disapproval. “You know, you need Jesus in your life.”
I yawned. “I can't argue with you there.” I turned my head toward the window and folded my arms across my chest. I was pleased that Kayla got the hint I was done talking.
One thing I can say about the girl, is that she is right. I do need Jesus. Maybe then I could make some sense of my life. Maybe even figure out where I am headed.
For the umpteenth time I asked myself how the hell I got myself into another mess. Sometimes I do the dumbest things, then sit back and think,
what the hell did I do
? If it wasn't for common sense I wouldn't have any sense at all.
It wasn't like my parents raised no fool. My stepfather didn't take no mess. He was quick to clock a sistah upside her head. He was one of those who whooped your ass first and asked questions later. There were many times I got my behind beat for something that Lisa or my younger brother, Andre, had done. All he had to say was, “Well, you probably needed it anyway.”
My mother was a softy. In my opinion she wasn't what I would call a bad parent, even though she never bothered to talk to my ass about any important shit, like sex, for instance.
To this day I remember the only discussion we'd ever had on the subject of sex. I had to have been around nine. My girlfriends and I had been in the school playground around the block, playing kickball, when my mama pulled up in a 1968 Rambler and told me to get in the car.
She glared at the older boys sitting on the school steps, smoking cigarettes, then over at me. “Keep your fast ass out that school playground!” she yelled as she screeched away from the parking spot. “Do you know what can happen to little girls?”
I slumped down in the seat and shook my head.
“They rape little girls. Do you know what rape is?”
“No, Mama,” I whispered.
“It's when a boy sticks his penis inside a girl's vagina.”
With that said she pulled the car in front of our house and got out. We never had that discussion again. I spent that night staring at my clit trying to figure out how a boy's ding-a-ling would fit in there. That shit haunted me for years until I discovered I had another hole. I just wished it had been before I was lying across the floor with my legs spread open and Wayne Williams's skinny ass lying between them.
Even after that I still was stupid and naïve when it came to men and sex. I found myself with one after another, searching for something I never found.
It has taken me thirty-six years and three marriages before I have finally come to the realization that I love the idea of being in love. Now, stay with me a moment as I try to explain.
Almost every time I meet a man, I allow myself to get so wrapped up in the physical and emotional aspects of the initial relationship that I find myself saying “he's the one” long before I have even learned my partner's middle name. I have dated men and before the first month is over, I discover we are already living together. Then, when I finally come down from the clouds, I realize I can't even stand his ass.
I think a lot of it originated from the fact that I never knew my real father. My mother had never married him and when I turned five she married my stepfather. They were together for almost ten years, and no matter how hard I tried, I never felt loved or accepted by him. Once I got older, I drew the conclusion I was just part of the package deal. At the time he had no other choice but to deal with my ass.
I held on to my virginity until I was sixteen years old before I started looking for love in all the wrong places. I ended up losing it to a high school basketball star on a dare. “Wayne Wonder” was what they called him. I thought he was the finest thing to hit Hickman High School. When he asked me if I wanted a ride home from school I was so excited I practically peed on myself before I managed to say “yes.” On the way he asked if I'd like to see his new house, and being the dummy that I was, I said “sure.” We weren't in his place five minutes before he managed to talk my panties off. With the help of ajar of Vaseline and to the tunes of the DeBarges's “Time Will Reveal,” he popped my cherry. The next day, Wayne couldn't even remember my name.
After that I tried to find acceptance any way I could, and along came Morgan Brown. We both ran track. One afternoon it was raining so hard, we were forced to run down the school's corridors instead. He and I were running and talking about Michael Jackson's
Thriller
video when he asked could he talk to me in private. Being the dummy that I was, again I agreed, and as soon as we hit the next corner, he pulled me into the boys' bathroom with him. He led me to the last stall where he leaned me against the wall and stuck my hand inside his pants. His thing was so big that like a damn fool, I screamed. I thought it was a pet snake. Shit, how was I to know dicks came in all sizes. Up until that point, the only ones I'd seen was my little brother's and Wayne's and neither was worth sitting down and writing about in my diary. Anyway, he whipped his dick out so I could take a closer look. Curiously, I reached down and touched it as it grew right before my eyes. Morgan was about to teach me what a hand job was when the bathroom door swung open. Scared it was our coach, I slid down into a squatting position on the floor, near the toilet, hoping that I wouldn't be seen. Ryan and Vernon, better known as Dumb and Dumber, pushed opened the stall door to find Morgan with his pants down and his dick only inches away from my mouth. By the next day, I had been labeled the super headhunter.
When you get a bad reputation there ain't shit you can do but live through the nightmare. Boys were then interested in me because they believed the things they heard. Even with all of the rumors floating around, I still found myself willing to do just about anything just to be accepted, to feel loved.
I remember I would meet a guy that I really liked and thought he liked me enough to look past the rumors. But as soon as he caught wind of who I was, to my disappointment, he ended the relationship. Several other disappointments after that left me feeling used and abused.
Then I met Mario.
He was the first man who couldn't care less what anyone said. To me he was heaven sent. I thought I had found my knight in shining armor. It wasn't long before I realized how crazy and possessive he was. If he even thought I was with another man he went off and even hit me upside my head a couple of times. But instead of ending the relationship I tried harder to please him. I was so naïve and stupid that I let him dictate my life. At age sixteen, we were already practically living together. I wasn't allowed to hang out with my friends; instead I was at his apartment making him dinner and washing his stanky-ass drawers.
My junior year I ended up pregnant, and was excited that I would finally have someone to love. I lost the baby during my twelfth week and ended up in a deep depression. It was a blessing in disguise; I just didn't realize it at the time.
I married Mario when I was eighteen. I was pregnant again and scared. I didn't know what to do. My mother had run off somewhere and all I had was my grandmother, who was as old fashioned as it got. My grandmother insisted that Mario marry me and he did one month before Quinton was born.
With me dressed in a red polka dot dress that looked like a circus tent, we were married in my grandmother's living room with my cousin and her boyfriend as our witness. I cried the whole time but I went through with it because I didn't want to disappoint my grandmother. Afterwards we drank grape Kool-Aid and ate tuna fish sandwiches.
When Quinton was born, I poured my heart into my child. Three years later Tamara was born and at that point, I decided that I had had enough of the abuse and wanted something more if not for myself then for my children. So I put Mario's ass out. It was a struggle, but I endured.
At twenty-four, I finally learned how to drive; then came the drinking. Soon I was back to having one man after another, looking for love all over again.
I met my second husband on my twenty-seventh birthday. I went to Fort Leonard Wood with my cousin Danielle. Troy Harris was a high-yellow brotha who instantly became attached to me and my kids. I don't know what it is about a brotha in uniform but it turned me the fuck on. Troy was only in Missouri three months for school but by the time he was ready to return to Panama, he proposed. I looked past his insecurities, and I looked past the cheap-ass wedding ring he bought from Wal-Mart. All I could think about was that he was taking me away from my dead-ass town to another country to live on a military installation. We knew each other exactly six months before we were married in the basement of my house in front of fifty of my friends. I knew something wasn't right but I did it anyway.
I quit my job and hopped on a plane, eager to start my new life. It took another six months before I realized that I had married a liar. We drove each other crazy and after being dogged for so many years, it was my turn to dog. By the time we returned to the States our relationship was over. He went to Arkansas and I went back home.
I had several more relationships afterwards with me allowing one man to move in after a month and believing I was in love. And after one too many failed relationships, including two sperm donors whose seeds I deposited at the nearest Planned Parenthood, I met John Moore.
I was working part-time at a nightclub—it's a long story so I won't get into it right now—but I will say that he asked for my number. And like I did with everyone else who asked, I gave it to him.
My phone used to ring so much that I used to ask myself why did I give my phone number out to people I wasn't even interested in. However, if I went one day without receiving a call, I would become depressed and feel unwanted.
Anyway, he called and asked me out, and with me working two jobs, not to mention my busy social calendar, I was eventually able to fit him in. We went out to dinner, and even though I found him to be a very nice guy, he was too nice. He was the type of man who'd give you everything, and he fell in love faster than I ever did. I tried to ignore his calls, but he was persistent. Eventually I let him take me out again, and after dinner I felt so lightheaded, he insisted on following me home. I wasn't too happy about that because I didn't want him to know where I lived. He not only followed me home, but he made sure I made it into the house. He came back the next morning while I was asleep and shoveled the snow from my driveway. I had no choice but to invite him in for breakfast. The kids took a quick liking to him and he convinced me to let him take us out for pizza. How can you tell a child no to Chuck E. Cheese?
After that it was hard to get rid of him. He popped over all the time, even if it was just to drop off McDonald's. Within a month he had grown on me. I began to realize that he was not like the other men. He was lonely and desperately wanted a family of his own. But the difference was he didn't want to share what I already had, he wanted to give me something I didn't already have. He didn't want to move in with me, he wanted me to live with him. He didn't want to use up my hot water. He wanted to pay the damn bill.
I knew even before he proposed that he was going to ask me. When my sister told him that if he wanted me, he had better put a ring on my finger quick, he took that shit to heart. He and Lisa went to the mall and together they picked out a one-carat princess-cut diamond. The next night, John took the kids and me out to dinner and proposed to all three of us. My kids were excited and I was in shock. I didn't know what I wanted to say but before I realized it, I was saying yes. He didn't even give me a chance to change my mind, because if he had, I definitely would have said, “hell no!” Instead he rushed my ass off to the justice of the peace, and a week later, I was Mrs. John Moore.
I quit my job and he let me stay home and pursue my career as a writer. I have to admit it was wonderful staying home and being there when my kids got home from school. I bought cookbooks and started planning meals. John let me handle the household finances and he never questioned any financial decisions I made. For almost an entire year I enjoyed being a housewife. Then summer rolled around and I started spending the weekends hanging out with my girls, meeting men my age. John is fifteen years older than me, and extremely overweight. I began to question why I married a man that I wasn't even attracted to. The sex wasn't good and I started to question if it was ever good because so many times before I had convinced myself sex didn't really matter. All that mattered was what he was able to do for me and it was a helluva lot more than any of them other tired ass mothafuckas had been able to do. But after a while I began to ask myself, if he wasn't supporting me and I had a job would we be together, and I kept coming up with the answer. Hell no! I began to dread him touching me. I looked forward to him working second shift.
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