Consequences (2 page)

3

Nikki

“It's ten o'clock and you're listening to Ms. Nikki Truth, the host of the most talked about radio show in the Midwest,
Truth Hurts
. As my listeners know, I don't believe in holding your hand. If you want my advice, then you better have the balls to accept the truth . . . even if it hurts. Caller, you're on the air.”

“Good evening, Delicious. With a name like that, your story is bound to be good,” I said with a soft chuckle, trying to set the mood.

“Haven't you heard the saying, you gotta teach a man how to satisfy you?”

“Okay, then, if he's willing to do whatever it takes to satisfy you, then what's the problem?”

There was a slight pause.
“He ain't working with much.”

I tried to keep the grin from my voice. “Okay, I can see where that would be a problem.”

I laughed, trying to lighten the situation. “Have you tried talking to him about it?”

I didn't know what it was, but lately I'd been giving a helluva lot of advice on sex. Trust me, I was no expert. “Well, you're going to have to decide if you love that man enough to live with his shortcomings. No pun intended.”

“I think before you end up doing something that you might regret, you need to talk to him.”

I leaned in closer to the microphone. “Ooh, now we were getting to the juicy part! Please continue.”

“And . . .” I urged for dramatic effect.

“Good sex will do that to ya.” I laughed.

“But he's satisfying your needs,” I added.

I covered my mouth to keep from laughing and stared through the glass at my producer, Tristan, who was also having a hard time holding it together.

“Delicious, let me give you a piece of advice. If you truly love this man, you gotta be honest with him and tell him the truth. You're never going to find that hundred percent with any man, yet there are just some things you can't live without. For you, maybe sex is one of those things.”

“Good luck.” I ended the call. “The phone lines are lit up; let's take some calls and see what my listeners have to say. Caller, you're on the air.”

I chuckled. “You are not alone, Cortez.”

“I think that's where the debate of what constitutes a good man comes into play.”

“No offense, Cortez, but women want men who are not only hard workers, but who are striving for something more.”

“I am striving for more. After ten years, I shall be promoted to shift supervisor.”
He had the nerve to have an attitude. I guess I would, too, if I made my living flipping burgers.

“Then get ready for two more years of unhappiness. Next caller.” I ended the call and pressed the next blinking red light.

I chuckled. “I know that's right. Thanks for calling. You hear that. Delicious, maybe you should try adding toys to your relationship. Caller, you're on the air.”

I had to laugh at that one.

“Thanks for calling. Next caller.”

I took a few more calls and before long it was time to sign off for the night. “This is Nikki Truth at Hot 97 WJPC signing off. Remember to tell the truth even if it hurts. Good night.”

Ron Isley came onto the air. I took my headset off and leaned back in the seat. Another good night and I was pleased. At least something in my life was going right.

Within minutes the door opened and my dear friend and producer Tristan Bell came into my office. “Well, girlfriend, another
fabulous
night!” he said with a dramatic pose.

I grinned at him as he batted his long fake eyelashes. He was such a diva with perfect nutty brown skin and black shoulder-length weave that bounced with every move. I'd known Tristan since I started working at the radio station, so we've been friends for almost eight years. After Trinette left St. Louis and joined her husband in Richmond, Tristan and I had become besties; that is, as long as Trinette doesn't know anything about it. That chick is territorial when it comes to our friendship; although most of the time our relationship was one sided, which meant she only called when she needed something. Just thinking about our phone conversation still had me shaking my head.

I think there are some women who are meant to be tied down to one man and then there are women like Trinette, who are meant to be free to do whatever she wants whenever she wants with every Tom, Dick, and Barry as long as he's got enough money to keep her in the lifestyle to which she's grown accustomed. Don't get me wrong, I love that girl like a sister, but she is definitely a piece of work.

Tristan's high-pitched voice broke into my thoughts. “Some friends and I are having a get-together at my place this weekend. You and Donovan are invited.”

I gave Tristan a hard look. “Now, you know Donovan ain't coming to a barbecue with you and all your flaming friends.” I wasn't trying to be mean, just keeping it real. Hell, it took my husband long enough just to get used to being around Tristan. It wasn't that Donovan didn't like gay men. He was just like any other black straight man, ready to go off if you even hinted at the possibility.

Tristan sucked his teeth, then wiggled into the room making a fashion statement. Of course he looked great in Baby Phat jeans, a black blouse, and black rhinestone studded pumps. “I really want you to meet this
fiiine
dude I'm seeing.”

“Another one,” I said with a chuckle. Between Tristan and Trinette's social calendars, I couldn't seem to keep up.

He took a seat on the comfortable old couch beside my desk and crossed his long legs. “Uh-uh. This one . . . there's something special about him. No, listen, Nikki! I'm serious. The second I spotted him walking into Straight Shooters, I knew I wanted my lips all over that gorgeous body.”

I swung around on my seat, laughing. Tristan always did have a way of lifting my spirits. Lord knows I needed any distraction I could get. Otherwise, I'd find myself thinking about the problems I had at home.

“So I guess you took him home.”

His dark eyes widened. “No, we went to this little coffee shop on the east side and spent most of the night talking.”

That was definitely a first. Usually they went to some motel getting their freak on. “So is this guy gay or on the down low?” I asked, tossing him a curious look.

“If you're asking if he's married, then the answer is yes. But he's planning to leave her. I'm hoping a little loving will help persuade him sooner.” He ran his tongue across his glossy lips suggestively.

“You are so nasty.”

He gave me a knowing look and smiled. “I know.”

I was still laughing when my eyes traveled over to the clock. “Speaking of nasty . . . I better get home to my husband.”

“Must be nice to have in-house dick. Some of us aren't as fortunate,” Tristan added with a playful eye roll.

“I wouldn't say all that,” I murmured, especially since we hadn't made love in over a week.

Tristan must have seen something on my face for him to lean forward and ask, “Are things getting any better?”

I hated talking bad about my marriage, especially at this point everything should have been perfect, so I simply shrugged. “Barely, but I'm taking it one day at a time.”

“Just give him time,” he reassured me. “It's only been a few months.”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

Tristan rose. “And kiss Aiden for me.”

I smiled at the mention of my two-year-old son. “I will.”

After he left, I gathered up my things and slipped my purse onto my shoulder, and we walked out to the parking lot together.

“If you decide to come this weekend, let me know. My Big Daddy is planning to stop through.”

My brow rose. “Really? Wow! Maybe he
is
planning to come out the closet.”

He grinned broadly. “I told ya! Smooches!” He gave me a two-finger wave, then strut his long legs over to his Impala like he was moving down a runway. Like I said, Tristan was such a diva.

I climbed into my Lexus and headed toward home. While I listened to Marsha Ambrosius's CD, I said a silent prayer.
“Please let tonight be a good night.”
I wasn't asking for much. I just wanted things back the way they used to be.

Donovan Truth was serving in the National Guard and had done two deployments: one to Iraq and the second to Afghanistan. It had been rough for us, considering when he'd left for Iraq our marriage had been on the rocks. After the death of our first child, Mimi, we just couldn't seem to get our relationship back on track, so his deployment had been like a blessing because it had given us the distance we needed. Luckily, when he came home, we were able to save our marriage, and within a month I discovered I was pregnant with our second child. That had been a time for us to start over new. Then a year after Aiden was born, Donovan's unit was being deployed again. It had been three months since his return from Afghanistan, but it was still evident that the second twelvemonth deployment had taken a toll on Donovan. When my husband came home, he wasn't the same man who had left.

I know that, as a military wife, I have to be supportive of my husband and help him through the tough times, but sometimes it's more than I can bear. The mood swings, the distance, sometimes it's like he's still gone. I just don't know what to do anymore except pray and take it one day at a time.

I pulled into the garage beside his Cadillac Escalade. It was his gift to himself after two deployments. Who needed a gas guzzler in this economy, yet I just nodded and said nothing.

I stepped into the house and Rudy, my spoiled schnauzer, greeted me at the door. “Hey, stinky butt. How's Mama's baby?” I cooed while I showed him some love. That little boy had been with us since he was a puppy and was a part of our family.

I looked across the room and saw the light on in the family room. I gave Rudy a treat, then hung my purse on a chair in the kitchen and stepped into the family room, located at the rear of the house. Donovan was relaxing on the couch, watching the basketball game.

“Whassup, baby,” he said as soon as he spotted me stepping through the doorway and signaled for me to come over.

I breathed a sigh of relief, then smiled, sauntered over, and lowered across his lap. “Hey, handsome.” We kissed and I could taste the tequila on Donovan's breath. Ever since his return, he'd been drinking way too much. I bit my tongue and decided not to say anything. For one night, I just wanted everything to at least
feel
normal. “Where's Aiden?”

Donovan planted another wet kiss to my lips before answering. “After his bath he was out like a light.” He kissed me some more. “How was the show tonight?” I was surprised. Asking about my radio show was something he rarely did anymore.