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Authors: Carl Weber

Big Girls Do Cry

BOOK: Big Girls Do Cry
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Books by Carl Weber

Up to No Good
Something on the Side
The First Lady
So You Call Yourself a Man
The Preacher’s Son
Player Haters
Lookin’ for Luv
Married Men
Baby Momma Drama
She Ain’t the One (with Mary B. Morrison)

DAFINA BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

Copyright © 2010 by Carl Weber

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

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Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Special Sales Manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018. Attn. Special Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

Dafina and the Dafina logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2009939202

eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-6834-1

eISBN-10: 0-7582-6834-3

First Hardcover Printing: February 2010
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Printed in the United States of America


This book is dedicated to my good friend,
the late Reverend Joseph Simmons Sr.
May you rest in peace, my friend.
I hope to see you again one day.


The taxi pulled into the circular driveway, rolling to a stop in front of the expensive double oak doors of the large brick colonial. Roscoe, the driver, a fortysomething dark-skinned man, placed the car in park and turned toward the woman in the back seat.

He smiled to himself. He liked the way she looked. She was just his type of woman, thick and pretty, with skin like a chocolate bar. Oh, and even more enticing were her large, melon-sized breasts. Yes, sir, Roscoe sure loved a woman with big titties and some meat on her bones. And this one was as fine as she could be. He had thought about asking for her number or perhaps offering to show her around Richmond when she first entered his cab at the airport. Over the years, Roscoe had bedded many a lonely female passenger after picking them up at Richmond’s bus station or airport. All it usually took was some small talk and an invitation to one of the city’s many bars or eateries for a drink. But this sister had spent most of the ride on her cell phone, probably comforting some insecure boyfriend or husband afraid her fine ass would wind up with a Southern charmer like him. Now that they had reached her final destination, he would have to make his move quick if he was going to bed this plus-sized beauty.

“That’ll be forty dollars, ma’am.” He smiled, revealing a mouth full of gold teeth.

Tammy, a woman in her late thirties, didn’t notice his unattractive smile or his country accent, things that would have surely caught her attention and gotten under her skin if she weren’t already preoccupied with looking at the house they’d
just pulled in front of. She would never admit it to anyone back home, but a twinge of jealousy swept through her body as she stared at the house. The large colonial was at least twice the size of her Jamaica Estates home back in New York, and compared to her yard, this house’s land appeared to be big enough to hold a football field or two.

This has to be the wrong address, she told herself. They can’t afford this.

“Are you sure we’re at the right house?” she asked without moving her head, her mind still trying to process what she saw before her.

“Yes, ma’am. You said Four James River Lane, didn’t you?”

Tammy glanced at the paper in her hand, then looked at the large number 4 on the house. “Yes, that’s what I said.”

But this can’t be her house. It just can’t be. Tammy’s thoughts were consumed by jealousy.

“Then this is where you want to be. Do you want some help with your bags?”

She reached in her purse for her wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

“Forty dollars. I usually charge fifty when I come out here to Chesterfield County, but havin’ a pretty woman such as yourself in my cab, I feel like I owe you. Maybe I could show you around town. They’re having an all-you-can-eat rib festival down at Shockoe Bottom tonight. My name’s Roscoe.” He offered her his hand.

Tammy rolled her eyes and shook her head, flashing the two-carat diamond ring on her finger.

“My name is
she snapped, “and my husband’s name is Foot in Your Ass.”

She was about to go on putting this homely, gold-tooth fool in his place, but before she could continue, she saw someone come out of the house. A light-skinned woman, big, but not quite as large as Tammy, came running toward the taxi. That’s when Tammy knew there was definitely no mistake; she was at the right address. But how the hell did her best friend get a Mc-Mansion like this? And who the hell were they robbing to pay for it?

Tammy handed the driver two twenty-dollar bills, then stepped out of the car. She was usually a pretty good tipper, but with that country-ass come-on the driver just tried, she figured he’d forfeited his tip.

Egypt threw her arms around Tammy’s neck and pulled her in closely. “Tammy, girl, I missed you something awful.” She placed a huge red-lipstick kiss on Tammy’s cheek.

Tammy smiled at Egypt when she let her go. She’d missed her friend too. They had a lot of catching up to do, and even more importantly, she wanted to know how Egypt and her new husband, Rashad, could afford such a nice house when they earned far less than she and her husband did. Or did they?

“Girl, you moving on up, aren’t you?”

“You think? Come on in and let me show you around.” Egypt was grinning from ear to ear. She knew Tammy had to be envious, and she loved every minute of it. “You can leave her bags by the front door,” Egypt instructed Roscoe.

Tammy followed her friend. Yes, she wanted to see her house. She wanted to see if the inside looked anything like the outside.

Tammy and Egypt had known each other for almost thirty years and had been best friends since they’d met. But even best friends could have rivalries. As close as they were, the two of them had played a one-upsmanship game when it came to material things since they were teenagers. Tammy, however, had been winning this competition handily the past ten years because of her marriage to her successful husband, Tim. She had thought the title would be hers for a lifetime, but as she walked into the flawlessly decorated foyer of Egypt’s house for the first time, she was afraid that the tides had changed.

As a matter of fact, she was so amazed as she followed her friend from room to room that she barely noticed the people sitting in the large family room until Egypt shouted out, “BGBC in the house!” and the people in the room all stood in unison and echoed, “BGBC in the house!”

Tammy couldn’t help but blush. She smiled at Egypt, who gave her a thumbs-up. It was one of those moments in a woman’s life when she feels a sense of accomplishment. One of Tammy’s dreams was actually becoming a reality, and she couldn’t have been
prouder. She’d come to Richmond for two reasons. One of them was to catch up with her friend, who she hadn’t seen since her wedding the year before. The other was to be in attendance at the first meeting of the Richmond chapter of the Big Girls Book Club. She’d started the club five years ago in New York with only one rule: you had to be at least a size 16 to become a member. With the success of that first book club, which had swelled from five members to almost thirty, Tammy had the dream that someday there would be BGBC groups in cities all over the country. Her best friend was helping her realize that dream.

Tammy glanced around the room. There were more than a dozen people there, but she felt as if she knew four of them personally because of her conversations with Egypt. Of course, there was Isis, Egypt’s older sister and former member of the New York chapter of the BGBC. She’d moved down to Richmond a few months ago to get away from the hustle and bustle of New York, or so she said. Only time would tell if that was her true motivation. Tammy had a suspicion that there were more personal reasons involving her sister.

Then there was Loraine Farrow, Egypt’s boss and one of Richmond’s leading businesswomen. Loraine was a tall, well-dressed woman in her early forties. Despite her 275-pound figure, she was very attractive. She owned a large public-relations firm in town. Tammy liked her right off the bat, not just because Egypt had said she was a take-charge woman who didn’t take smack from anyone, but also because of the way Loraine carried herself. It was obvious from one glance that she was a woman of class who deserved respect.

While Loraine exuded everything good about being a black woman in her forties, the woman standing next to her represented everything bad. She had a very attractive face, with two huge dimples on both cheeks, but Tammy’s first impression of LaQueta Brown was that she was a hot mess. Her clothes were too loud; her blouse was way too tight for a woman her size; her skirt was too short; and from what Egypt had told her, she was so damn boisterous it could make you sick. She put the
and really didn’t care.

But as much as Tammy was appalled by having LaQueta in
the BGBC, there was only one member she disapproved of on principle. That member was Jerome. Oh, yes, Jerome was a man, a very handsome man at that. Perhaps even a little too handsome. Tammy argued with Egypt about him for almost two weeks on the phone, but her friend wouldn’t budge on including him in her BGBC chapter.

BOOK: Big Girls Do Cry
3.18Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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