Darius Jones (22 page)

“I
'll tell you everything, if you promise not to leave me. I know we can work this out.” I'd tell almost everything. That part about Ashlee sucking my dick, no way would Fancy forgive me for that one.

“I was sad the last time I left the hospital. Ashlee came in your room, in here, acting a fool. I got dumb with her. Then the nurse told me I couldn't come back. That night I went to the Playhouse.”

Fancy interrupted. “First off, you've got your days mixed up so I know you're lying. Second of all, the Playhouse, Darius? For real you went to the Playhouse without me, knowing how those scantily dressed women are?”

“Baby, listen. Things happened so fast it's a blur. My days are overlapping in my head. I do know that there was this one woman. She followed me all night. She offered me every part of her body but I refused. I got out of there and went to My House.”

Sarcastically, Fancy said, “My House. I can see where that was a better choice of scantily dressed women. Get me my book.”

“You!” I didn't mean to raise my voice at my wife. I took a deep breath, lowered my voice. I ground my back teeth, tightened my jaw, then picked up Ladycat's book off the floor, placed it at the foot of her bed. She wiggled her fingers. Reluctantly, I put the book in her hand hoping that was where the book would remain.

“You act as though I'm not human. I am. Do you follow me every place I go on the road to keep watch over me? Is that what you're doing? Or are you traveling with me because you love me?” Again, I had to shift the conversation to avoid telling her the truth.

She opened her book. “You don't have to worry about my following you any place else ever again.” Tears fell between the pages.

“I don't mean I don't want you with me. I love having you with me but if it's for the wrong reasons…I thought you trusted me.”

“I've heard the scandalous stories about groupies. I don't want that for us. I want to be available to sex you, to keep you satisfied. As your wife, Darius, that's my job. I know it's hard for you. Me too.” Calmly, she continued, “Tell you what. You go back to being with the team, I'll work on getting DJ back, and we'll revisit whether we should stay married after the season is over.”

How did we go from my wife planning a second wedding after the season to contemplating divorce? I wasn't debating that proposal. That was a good package deal. Before the end of the season, I know I'd convince my wife not to leave me. Sometimes all a man needed was a chance to make things right. MaDear was in heaven watching out for me.

I heard the voice again. “Darius, get over there and take care of that bitch Bambi right now!”

I reached into the trash can, got both halves of Bambi's business card, kissed Fancy, then said, “Baby, I gotta go.”

I
had a lot on my mind.

I sat on my bed at ten in the morning waiting for Darius. I almost lost my life and he cheated on me. Why? Wasn't I his everything? I was the best wife I knew how to be. Traveling with Darius was fun. Not being Darius's wife, what would I do? He was my soul mate, my everything.

“Hey, Ladycat,” he said, handing me a black tote with long straps. “I left your cell at home. It's on the nightstand.” He handed me a hanger with slacks and a nice button-up blouse. He was short on words and I didn't know what to say to my husband.

Inside the bag was a pair of flat shoes. I was ready to leave but not excited that I was going home with him. Had to sort out my situation. Didn't want to talk to my mom, told her to meet me at the house later. Venting would help me feel better emotionally but I didn't want my mom judging my husband or giving me advice I knew she wouldn't accept if she were in my position. Resolving my marital problems was my responsibility. I handed Darius the bag.

I wasn't asking my husband where he'd gone last night. Didn't want to know. Hoped I didn't turn on the news at home only to hear more bad news. Had enough of that. But I did want to know, “Where are my wedding and engagement rings?”

“At the house, in the bag with your other belongings,” he said. “I'm leaving today to join my teammates in Miami. I'll be back in two days to check on you. I think you should stay in LA and not go to Atlanta right away.”

Why? Did he have a mistress in Atlanta too? Did he have unfinished or unresolved business in Atlanta? Was he really going to Miami?

“No problem. Go be with your team. That's your obligation. I'm staying in LA until after the season,” I told him. “I have things to do.”

Darius frowned. “Things to do? All right. Cool. So you forgive me?”

“There's nothing to forgive you for. Right?”

He shrugged his shoulders, quietly escorted me from the hospital to the limo out front.

I hated the tension between us. It was like Darius was someone I knew but had no real feelings for. He didn't seem like my friend, my lover, and definitely not my husband. He'd hurt me so much, my feelings for him had dissipated.

Was this our future? Was this how happily married people ended up miserable or in divorce court? I wanted to scream, to cry, to pound on his chest…I wanted to disappear, for a moment.

He held my hand. “Ladycat, I love you. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

He should've thought about that before he'd had sex with another woman. “I love you too.” I did love my husband.

The limo arrived at our LA home in the valley. I didn't wait for the driver to open my door. I got out. Went inside. Never realized how much I missed DJ until now. I smiled thinking of him. There was innocence in a child's spirit. The sound of DJ's feet running through the house, his laughter, and his unpredictable words, I missed that already. His birthday was coming up in a few days. I wanted him here with me.

The limo left our house with Darius in it. He texted me, Seems like you need some alone time. Going to check on my mom. Be back in a few hours.

I didn't respond. Darius was grown. If I had to make him be with me, he could stay gone long as he'd like. Avoiding confrontation that he'd created was my husband's way of escaping reality. I knew Darius. He figured if he stayed gone long enough, I'd forgive him or forget about it. When he returned home, he'd act like the scandals never happened.

Walking to the mantel, I picked up our wedding picture, let it slip from my hands. I left it on the floor. Had more important things to do. I went to the bedroom, got my cell, called Ashlee's mother Ashley.

She answered, “Hello?”

I inhaled. Quietly exhaled. “Hi, Ms. Anderson. This is Fancy, Darius's wife.”

Coyly, she said, “I know who you are. Guess you're calling to speak with DJ.”

I had to contain my excitement. “Yes, I am.”

“DJ, Fancy's on the phone.”

“Hey, Fancy. Where you at? You coming to get me? Where my daddy at?”

Softly, I said, “Hey, baby. You want me to come get you?”

“Yep.” That was his last word.

The next voice I heard was Ms. Anderson. “Please, come and get him so he can see his daddy.”

“I'll be there tomorrow.” I knew Ashlee. I knew she didn't have him with her.

When my mom got here, she could stay here until I got back. I packed my bag and made a copy of our Dallas custody order. If Ashlee wanted custody of DJ, she'd have to go through me.

“M
ama, what the hell you mean you let Fancy have DJ? You give away shoes and clothes, not my child. Why didn't you call me? If you didn't want to keep him, all you had to do was say so. I would've come and got him. You could've left him here with me.”

Dang. My mother created a battle of the custody orders. I could handle Darius in the courtroom but that bitch Fancy would make me act a damn fool in front of any judge. Why, oh, why had Darius made me swallow his cum? His second child could be growing inside me. If Fancy wanted a child so bad, she should have her own.

“Ashlee, baby. You asked me to come get DJ because of your mental instability. Remember? Like it or not, Fancy is doing you a favor that I'm not willing to do permanently. I raised you. I am forty-five-years young. This is my time to shine in the sun.”

I wanted to hang up in my mother's face. “When, Mother? When did she come? Sound like I hear him in the background.” I tried listening to what my mother wasn't saying. I swore I heard DJ's voice while my mother was talking.

“They just left about fifteen minutes ago. I'm not having this conversation with you. You're hearing things. Take your meds like you're supposed to, Ashlee, and let DJ stay with Fancy and Darius.”

“What airline are they on?”

“I don't know and I don't care. Ashlee, you had better not. You hear me? I know what you're thinking.”

I hung up on my mother, before she'd hang up on me. I went online, Googled a list of phone numbers for all the airlines. I started with United reservations.

“Yes, I'd like to cancel my reservations for today from DFW to LAX.” I gave the booking agent Fancy's and Darius's names.

“I don't have my confirmation number in front of me. Can you look it up by my address?” I gave them Darius's Atlanta address.

The agent said, “Sorry, I'm not showing a reservation for Fancy Taylor or Darius Jones Junior.”

Idiot rep! Ending that call, I phoned Delta, Continental, US Airways, Northwest, Southwest. I called JetBlue and all the other airlines that flew out of DFW. I could not find that bitch's flight information.

I called Baldwin. Thought of what to say while I was hold.

A minute later I heard him say, “What now, Ashlee?”

What the fuck was this, national beat down Ashlee day? “I need you to tell me how to get my son back.”

Sighing heavily in my ear, Baldwin said, “I thought he was with you.”

“He was but my mom came and got him.”

“Probably best. You're not stable, Ashlee. What are we going to do about the Jay Crawford case?” he lamented.

“I don't give a fuck about no Jay Crawford, you hear me! I want you to get my son back here immediately or you're fired!” Did he forget who was paying his mortgage?

“Ashlee, I wish you the best. I can no longer represent you. Let my secretary know when and where to transfer your files.”

“You can't quit on me! Hello? Hello? You're fired, Baldwin. You hear me! Fired!” Baldwin was long gone before I'd finished my end of the conversation.

I sat on my sofa, cried. Jumped up. Paced from one living room window to the other. Peeped out the window. Jay's bitch was going inside with her son. Didn't want to kidnap his bad ass again. “Ahhhhh!” I put my hands over my ears.

Fuck that bitch Fancy. I was going to confront her ass. I went online and bought me a one-way ticket to LA. I packed my bags and headed to Washington-Reagan National.

Nothing and no one would keep me away from DJ and Darius.

H
alfway to my front gate, I had my driver take me back to my front door. Getting out of the limo, I entered my garage, got in my Hummer and left. Fancy hadn't come home. Her mom was at our house but Fancy wasn't. What was my wife trying to prove?

“They'd be a fool to slam into this baby,” I said, cruising in my Hummer. To avoid traffic on the 405 or bring back memories of the day of the accident, I got on the 110S with no particular destination. Driving at times helped me to clear my head.

Night before last was a blur. Last thing I vividly remembered was my wife hitting me upside the head with a book. I left the hospital in transit to…I couldn't recall. Definitely wasn't the Playhouse or My House but I woke up in my bed fully clothed, shoes on my feet. Ladycat wasn't happy to see me when I'd picked her up from the hospital. I kept quiet in the limo on our drive home from the hospital 'cause I knew I'd fucked up.

Aimlessly driving I found myself at Shakey's Pizza at Avalon and Del Amo. Too early for pizza but I ordered a large Shakey's special to go. Made my way over to Juice-C-Juice for a smoothie. By the time I downed the smoothie I'd be ready for my pizza. Must've stepped in this place by MaDear's divine intervention because it was also an African-American bookstore.

“Hey, my man,” I said to the young dude behind the counter. No sooner than I'd said, “my man,” I missed DJ. Was he okay? Was Ashlee being a good mother? Didn't want to focus on her too long. Why had she sucked my dick? Where was my wife?

“Hook me up with a large banana, peach, honey, mango, and throw some strawberries in for color contrast.”

I wondered how old he was. Didn't seem old enough to be on payroll but he seemed confident hookin' up my drink. “My man. What's your name and how old are you?”

“Christopher but everybody calls me CJ,” he said, turning on the blender.

Felt a tap on my shoulder, turned around, looked down. Damn, she was shorter than shortie from the Playhouse. “What's up?” I asked, praying she wasn't a groupie.

“Hi, I'm Lori Carter, the owner of Smiley's Books. I want you to read this,” she said, handing me a strange-looking book with a black stickman straddling an ankh on the cover.

“I'm good,” I said, taking my smoothie. “CJ, hook me up with two ounces of wheatgrass.”

“Give me two minutes of your time,” Lori said. “By the time your wheatgrass is done, I'll be done talking with you.”

I stood, nodded. “Two. Go.”

She put the book in my hand. I sat it on top of my pizza box, handed her a twenty. She gave it back. I put the twenty on the counter for CJ.

“The book is on me. I've seen you all over television. Heard about your wife's accident. It's no accident that you came here. Your chakras are out of alignment.”

My what were what? Chakras were out of alignment? What the fuck was she pushing? She better not break out one of them Body Magic for men.

“You're wondering but don't know how to solve your problems. Read the book, brother.” She said “brother” with depth that moved me. Like she was a black woman who actually cared about a black man's state of well-being.