God Ain't Blind

GOD AIN’T BLIND

God Ain’t Blind

Mary

Monroe

KENSINGTON BOOKS

http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

This book is dedicated in loving memory of Ocie Mae Bonner, my mother. She was the first person to tell me that “God don’t like ugly.” But she didn’t stop there. She also told me that “God
still
don’t like ugly, God don’t play, God ain’t blind, God ain’t through yet, God don’t make no mistakes, God ain’t no fool, God ain’t crazy,” and so on. When it came to my writing, she told me, “Girl, if you gonna be a bear, be a grizzly.” That was her way of telling me to reach for the stars. My mother had to drop out of school in the fifth grade and go to work in the fields of rural Alabama. Before she crossed over, she read as much of
God Don’t Like Ugly
as she could understand. That was when she told me that God was still working on her through me.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Andrew Stuart is one of the best literary agents in the business. I am truly blessed to be one of his clients.

I am also blessed to be a member of the Kensington Books family. Thanks to Selena James, my wonderful editor and mentor.

Thanks to Maureen Cuddy, Laurie Parkin, Jessica McLean, and especially the wonderful crew in the sales department for going all the extra miles for me. To everyone else at Kensington, you guys make me feel like royalty!

From the bottom of my heart I thank Ella Powers (Las Vegas), Lizel and Wyrita (Baltimore), Louise Cooks (Richmond, Califor-nia), the Komatsu Yakamoto family (Japantown, San Francisco) and every single one of my other readers for supporting my work.

And to each of the hundreds of fans who claim to be my “number one fan,” you are all number one to me.

Thanks to Lauretta Pierce for maintaining my Web site and promoting my books with so much vigor.

A lot of my readers sent ideas and plot suggestions from around the world to me for this book. A few called me up to put in their two cents during my live telephone interviews while I was on my book tour! Well, I listened. Are you all happy now? And, yes there will be more books in my God Don’t Like Ugly series.

Please continue to send your e-mails to me at
Authorauthor5409@

aol.com
and visit my Web site at
www.Marymonroe.org
as many times as possible. I love the attention!

All the best,

Mary Monroe

September 2009

C H A P T E R 1

“If you don’t get yourself out of this vehicle and into that motel room and screw that man, I’ll go up in there and do it myself!”

I never expected my best friend to encourage me to have an affair. I always thought that she’d be the main person who would try and talk me out of it. Especially since she and my husband had been like brother and sister for most of their lives. But that was exactly what she was trying to do now. I knew this sister like I knew the back of my hand, so I knew she was not going to stop until I had stepped out of my panties, stretched out on my back, and opened my legs for a man who was not my husband. One of the reasons was that my girl was having an affair herself. I knew that if I got involved in one, she wouldn’t feel so guilty.

I was still strapped in by my seat belt, and I was in no hurry to unfasten it. “I don’t know if I’m ready to cheat on my husband,” I admitted. Despite the words of protest that tumbled out of my mouth and my reluctance, I was not going to reject Rhoda’s orders. I just didn’t want her to know how eager I really was to jump into bed with another man. I liked to mess with her from time to time, just enough to provoke her. It kept our crazy relationship exciting. “I really don’t know if I can do this,” I mumbled for the third time in the last two minutes. I sounded so weak and uncon-2

Mary Monroe

vincing that even I didn’t believe what I was saying. “So stop trying to rush me!”

“Rush
you
? Woman, we’ve been sittin’ here for ten minutes—

tick-tock, tick-tock. And you rushed
me
to drive
your
horny black ass over here.” Rhoda gave me a disgusted look before she unfastened my seat belt like I was a stubborn two-year-old.

“I know that. I just need to think,” I whimpered.

“You need to think about what?” she demanded, slapping the side of the steering wheel with the palm of her hand.

“I need to think about what I’m doing and why,” I replied, wring-ing my sweaty hands.

Now that the moment had arrived, I was sitting here acting like a frightened virgin, and it made no damn sense. This had been in the works for weeks. And me—with my weak self—I was just as eager to fuck the man who was awaiting my arrival in the motel room as he was to fuck me. He had made his intentions known the moment he stuck his fingers inside my panties in a restaurant booth the first time I spent time with him in public. I’d wanted to throw him down on that restaurant table and fuck his brains out then.

And that was exactly what I planned to do as soon as I got up enough nerve to take my ass into that motel room.

“Honey, I can tell you why you’re doin’ this. You need it. Your fuckin’, uh,
fuck
quota is bankrupt.” Rhoda laughed.

“That’s not funny, and I wish you’d stop making jokes about my personal life,” I snapped.

“I’m sorry, girlfriend,” she said, stroking my hair. “All I want is for you to be happy. I’m gettin’ sick of your long, frustrated face, and of the jealous looks I always get from you when I get mine. It’s time for you to get yours, and I am not goin’ to let up until you do.

Do you hear me?”

“I sure do hear you, Miss Pimp,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Excuse me?”

“Rhoda, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were getting paid for this. And for the record, I am not jealous of you. You can get that notion out of that head of yours right now. You don’t have a damn thing I’d want.”

“Except a man who knows and wants to take care of my needs.

GOD AIN’ T BLIND

3

Now you move it. Go on now.” Rhoda clapped her hands together twice like a drill sergeant, bumped her knee against mine, and motioned with her head toward the door on my side. “You go into that room so you can get laid like you’re supposed to be. Shoo!” This time she tapped the side of my leg with the toe of her black leather boot.

I still didn’t move. I couldn’t stop myself from glancing toward the motel entrance from the motel’s parking lot, where we had parked. And I couldn’t stop myself from hoping that the “good loving” that the man in the motel room had promised me was going to be worth my while. Rhoda was right. My fuck quota was bankrupt. I had not had any good loving in a while. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t had any loving period in a while now. I was so hot and horny, I was about ready to explode like a firecracker.

The Do Drop Inn was the kind of motel that people snuck in and out of, in disguise if they were smart. It was a cheap, one-story place in an industrial area off the freeway, with a sign that adver-tised rates by the hour, cable TV, XXX-rated movies, a heated pool, and vibrating beds.

Last month, during Memorial Day weekend, when a sister from my church was checking into this notorious love nest with her white lover, her husband was checking out with his lover at the same time.

All hell broke loose that night. The husband, an avowed racist, seemed more pissed off about his wife having a white lover than he was about her having an affair. Not only did the cops have to be called, but an ambulance, too. The two sisters ended up in the hospital; the husband went to jail. And the only reason that the white man escaped injury was because he had fled the scene before the husband could get his hands on him. It was the kind of scandal that the people in Richland, Ohio, sunk their teeth into. Especially when it involved somebody in the church.

As a member of the Second Baptist Church—even though I attended services only about once a month now—I knew that if I got caught entering or leaving a motel with a man other than the one I was married to, my goose would be cooked alive. My dull husband would die. Not because I’d kill him in self-defense, but because he’d be so shocked and disappointed, he’d probably drop dead. And knowing my mother, she’d probably come after me with 4

Mary Monroe

a switch. Given all these facts, why the hell was I doing this? If I had an answer to that question, it was hiding somewhere behind my brain.

I shaded my eyes and scanned the parking lot, sliding down into the passenger seat of my girl Rhoda’s SUV each time I thought I saw somebody we knew. “Is that Claudette who owns the beauty shop coming out of the liquor store across the street?” I said, with a gasp.

“Shit! Where?” Rhoda asked, jerking her head around like a puppet. We slid down into our seats at the same time and stayed there for about a minute. Rhoda eased up first, peeping out the side of her window like a burglar. “No, that’s not her. Claudette never looked that hopeless from behind. Whoever that sister is, her ass is draggin’ on the ground like a tail.”

I exhaled and sat back up in my seat. “I just wish Louis had picked some other motel. One with a little more class and one where we didn’t have to worry about running into somebody we know,” I complained, speaking more to myself than to Rhoda.

“What’s wrong with you? This is the only one of the few motels in this hick town that employs people we don’t know. You go to the Moose Motel out on State Street, and I assure you that Sister Nettie Jones, who works her mouth more than she works that vacuum cleaner when she cleans the rooms, will blab so fast, everybody we know will know about your visit before you even check out.” Rhoda let out an exasperated breath, rubbed her nose, and shook her head. I looked away from her. “Lord knows, this is one straight-up, low-level place, though. I wouldn’t bring a dog that I didn’t like here. If Louis was a real man, he’d take you to his place.”

My breath caught in my throat as I whirled around to face Rhoda again.

She leaned to the side and gave me a puzzled look. “What’s wrong now?”

“I’d rather get a whupping than get loose in Louis’s apartment,”

I declared.

“Well, other than it bein’ located in a low-rent neighborhood, two doors from the soup kitchen, what’s wrong with Louis’s apartment? Why don’t you do him there?”

GOD AIN’ T BLIND

5

“I can’t do that. I’m not the kind of woman who hangs out in a strange man’s apartment,” I answered. When I realized how ridiculous that statement was, we both laughed, but only for a few seconds. I cleared my throat and got serious. “Please don’t mention Louis’s apartment to me again after today unless you have to. I want to keep this thing casual.”

“Well! All I can say is, this man better have somethin’ good between his legs,” Rhoda retorted through clenched teeth. “If he doesn’t, I’ll help you slice it off with a dull knife and feed it to a goat I don’t like. But I still feel that he ought to be ashamed of himself for plannin’

a romantic evenin’ in a dead zone like this,” Rhoda said, looking around the area.

I didn’t like the look on her face, and she didn’t have to say what was on her mind, because I already knew. On one hand, she approved of me committing adultery, but she had a problem with me doing it with a broke-ass man like Louis Baines. But since she’d introduced me to him and did business with his struggling catering service herself, she usually didn’t harp on his financial status that much.

“You know that he is putting most of his money into his business. You are the main one who keeps talking about how you want to see a black business succeed in this town,” I said in Louis’s defense. “I don’t expect him to take me to the Hilton . . . yet.”

“I know, I know,” Rhoda replied gently, giving me a smile and an apologetic look. “I just wish that he could afford to take you to one of those nice hotels near the airport, like
my
gentleman friend does for me. Did I ever tell you about that?”

“You’ve told me everything there is to know about you and your lover, Rhoda,” I said, my eyes rolling around in my head like mar-bles. “Year after year after year . . .”

“Oh. Well, a real nice hotel makes it seem, uh, less illicit, I guess.

I like to be with my sweetie in my house only when I have no choice. Believe it or not, I still have some respect for my husband.

It’s the least I can do. He’s a beast, and his dick gets about as hard as a slice of raw bacon these days. But as long as he keeps his nose out of my business and hangs on to that six-figure-amount-a-year job, the only thing I’d leave him for is to go to heaven. Shit.” Rhoda 6

Mary Monroe

sniffed loudly and tapped my shoulder. “Well, what’s it goin’ to be?” She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “I’ve got other things to do, you know.”

I couldn’t figure out why, but for some reason, I had to stall a little more. Even though I
knew
that I was going to go through with my first indiscretion since I got married ten years ago. “I have to think about this some more, Rhoda. I shouldn’t have come here yet. Maybe I should get to know Louis a little better.”

“Better than what?”

“Better than I know him now. Other than the fact that he’s the best caterer I’ve ever dealt with, I really don’t know everything that I’d like to know about the man.”

“What do you think sex is for, girl? What better way is there to get to know a man? Look, you know him well enough to do business with him. He wants you. You want him. What else do you need to know? How big his dick is? How long he can keep it hard? Well, there’s only one way for you to find that out.”

C H A P T E R 2

Rhoda’s words amused me. I shook my head and let out a gentle laugh. “I know you are not going to stop until I do what you want me to do. But I shouldn’t have let you talk me into doing this. I shouldn’t have even told you about this man. I should not have let him get close enough to me for him to think that I’d . . . What’s wrong with me? I’m a happily married woman.” I put a lot of emphasis on my words. I was now at a point where I couldn’t tell if I was trying to convince myself that I shouldn’t be having an affair, or Rhoda.