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Authors: Angie Daniels

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BOOK: In The Company of My Sistahs
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“I know,” I returned. I waited until he knocked before I opened the door and gave him my best negro-you're-late stare.
“Sorry, I had car trouble.” He was dressed in his faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt, smelling like motor oil.
I stepped aside so he could enter. He moved over to the couch I just fluffed, and—
oh no he didn't—
dropped his funky ass onto my cushions.
His eyes traveled around the room. “I see you've been decorating.”
“Always.”
He draped his arm across the back of my couch. “Yeah, I miss this old house. We should still be doin' all this together.”
Oh, Lord, here we go again. Mario and I have been divorced for almost twelve years but every time he comes around he wants to talk about what we coulda, shoulda been if we had stayed together. I don't feel like hearing that shit today.
“Hey, Dad.” My daughter came bouncing into the living room, flopped down on my couch next to him, and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Hey, girl.” He smiled down at her.
Tamara's a daddy's girl. She sees him only one weekend a month but to her, he does no wrong. They look just alike. They have the same dark eyes covered by thick bushy eyebrows and long black lashes. Mario was a tenderoni back in the day. He's just short as hell. I don't know why I used to have a thing for short men.
Quinton came into the living room, carrying a tote bag over his shoulder. I smiled because my son is handsome and destined to be a heartbreaker. Already six feet, he got his height from my side of the family. He is always dressed nicely. If it doesn't have a designer label, he ain't wearing it, which is why I made his spoiled ass get a job this summer. As I said before, my name ain't First National Bank.
“Look at them gym shoes.” My ex-husband was referring to my son's one-hundred-dollar Nikes.
“We put your child support to good use,” I snorted.
“Must be nice. I can only afford Wal-Mart. I ain't got it like that.”
“Whatever,” I mumbled under my breath. He was about to go into his long spiel about how poor he was.
“Shoot, I ain't got a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of.”
What did I tell you? Mario's got my daughter feeling so sorry for him she asked me to give him back his child support. Has she lost her damn mind?
Mario rose. “Let's go, kids. Renee, make sure you bring me back some of that Jamaican rum.”
Yeah, whatever. I gave both of my kids a hug and a kiss, made sure Mario had the number to the hotel in case of an emergency, then pushed them and Nikki out the door.
I straightened the couch again, then moved to the bathroom. After a quick shower, I was ready to get my vacation started. Tamara never did bring me my shorts. I went down to the basement and pulled them out the dryer. I double checked the doors and windows to make sure they were secure, then raced back up the steps to grab the phone.
It was Nadine.
“Did you find it?” I asked.
“No. I must have thrown it away when I cleaned my room last week.” She sounded frustrated, but I didn't have time to be feeling sorry for her. Nadine ain't never bothered to clean her house before, so why start now?
“I don't know what to tell you,” I said with probably a little less feeling than I should have. Hey, it's been a long day and my ass is horny.
“I think I might have one at my parents' house.”
“In Kansas City?” That was almost a two-hour drive.
“Yeah, I'm waiting for them to call me back. If so, I guess I'll drive there and back tonight and leave for St. Louis in the morning.”
“That's fine. Lisa and Michael are spending the night at the boat. She's getting dicked tonight, so I won't see her until the morning either. Just meet us at the Waffle House.” I hung up and went to my room to get dressed. Getting some dick didn't sound like a bad idea.
I have a hook-up in St. Louis that I visit whenever I'm in town. Vince is a real kind of brotha. What you see is what you get. He lives in one of those old historical homes in the city that is in such bad shape, it needs to be either restored or torn down. He drives on the back of a garbage truck and is broke, but what the hell. I don't want his money. Just his dick. We met at a nightclub six months ago and just by the way he gyrated his hips I knew he could fuck. Maybe I'll call him when I get to St. Louis. Maybe I won't. He knows I'm coming tonight so maybe I'll wait and see if he calls first.
Thirty minutes later, I was rolling down the road in my black Camry with Mariah's new CD blasting through my speakers. I rolled down my window, allowing the warm July breeze to toss my braids. I needed a drink.
My cell phone rang. I reached for it and noticed that the number had been blocked. When I'm at home I ignore blocked or anonymous callers because nine times out of ten, it's either a telemarketer or a damn bill collector. Now my cell phone, that's a different story altogether. The first thing that comes to mind is somebody is playing on my dime.
“Hello?”
“Yeah, is this Renee Moore?”
“Who wants to know?” I asked with straight sistah girl attitude.
“Ricky Johnson's wife, that's who.”
Uh-uh. No the bitch didn't. She doesn't know my ass from the damn man on the moon. So how the hell she gonna call me talking crazy?
“
Excuse me?
I know you ain't calling my phone talking slick.” The tone of my voice told her whatever my words didn't, because she didn't say shit. “What can I do for you?”
Finally, she sucked her teeth. “I want to know why my man's been calling you.”
“Why don't you ask your man?”
“I did and he says y'all been discussing business.”
You know, one thing that burns me up is a lying-ass nigga. First off, I met Ricky's ass last week at this club that ain't no more than a juke joint. Now, I ain't gonna lie. The brotha is fine. Berry black skin, wavy hair, tall, and one helluva dresser. I didn't waste any time getting his attention and before the end of the night, we had exchanged cell phone numbers. Now I might not remember everything that slick mothafucka told me, but one thing I do know, he told me his ass wasn't married.
I rudely laughed in her ear. “Okay, so if he already gave you an answer, then why the hell you calling me?”
“Because I don't believe him.”
“Then that sounds like a personal problem.”
“No, it ain't no problem 'cause all I need to know is what the hell y'all were talking about; then I'm gonna whoop somebody's ass.”
I thought the shit was funny so I started laughing again. “Bitch, you know what? First off, you must be hard up for a man because there ain't no way in hell I would be calling some female's number I found on my man's caller ID, trying to find out what he's been up to. Secondly, the only ass you're gonna whoop tonight is his. So unless you want me to hang the fuck up, I advise you to come correct.”
She then had the nerve to laugh. “Damn, girl, your ass is hard. You have to excuse me 'cause right now I'm feeling some kind of way. Me and Ricky been together ten years so I have a lot of time invested in this relationship.”
“Yeah, and it's obvious you make a habit of checking his phone.”
“Shit, I pay the damn bill.”
Stupid wench. “Girlfriend, let me school you. You need to check Ricky's punk ass instead of wasting my damn time. 'Cause by you calling me all you're doing is letting me know the dick is good. I mean why else would you be checking his every move? Now, first off, one sistah to another, your man told me he wasn't married. And one thing I don't do is mess with another sistah's husband. Secondly, the only business he and I had to discuss was me getting some dick. However, since I am in such a good mood, I'll do you a favor, and leave his ass alone. In return, do me a favor ... both y'all mothafuckas lose my damn number.” I clicked END and lowered the phone onto my lap. That bitch had to be ugly—why else would she be running after some trifling negro. Or maybe as I said before, Ricky's got some good dick.
I reached for my cell phone again and called Kayla to tell her I was on my way, then I stopped by the ATM and withdrew enough cash to last me a week. Five minutes later, I pulled into her driveway.
Kayla was standing on the porch, with her suitcase in front of her feet, waiting. She was dressed in her usual black pants and white t-shirt. She is a big woman with a really pretty face, and tall enough to be a model if she was a dozen dress sizes smaller. She has a cute upturned nose, big green eyes, and a dazzling white smile. Her skin is so beige she could almost pass for white if it wasn't for her nappy-ass hair.
We met during college. I was attending night classes and she was in several of them. Somehow, like oil and vinegar, we mixed. I'm wild as hell, while Kayla is one of those who travels the straight and narrow, living her life according to the good book. She is the type of woman to be married. Instead, she has two girls with different baby's daddies that she has to track down every six months for child support payments.
“Hey, girl,” she greeted. She put her suitcase in my backseat. As she climbed onto the seat beside me, I complimented her on the ten straight-back cornrows she had secured with a hair tie.
“Your hair looks good.”
“So does yours.” Kayla reached out and fingered one of my braids. “I can't believe she was able to braid your hair.”
“I didn't even.” Her cousin Danita did my hair. You can't go to Jamaica with a curling iron. The humidity is a bitch. I have always worn one of those Halle Berry haircuts, so my hair is only
that
long. But I've been growing it out for almost four months for this occasion. Danita had to pinch, and damn that shit hurt. My hair was so tight that I had fucking Chinese eyes. But I refused to take them out. I just took the pain and two days of severe headaches. It's a shame the things women have to go through to look beautiful.
“Where's Lisa?” Kayla asked as I was pulling out of the driveway.
“She's at the casino with Michael. We'll see her in the morning.”
“This is ridiculous! We were supposed to go to St. Louis, get a room, and hang out at the club before leaving for Jamaica in the morning.”
“So, what's the problem?” I asked even though I knew good and damn well what she was getting at.
“There ain't no one but us. How are we gonna kick it if it's just us?”
I glanced over at her holy ass wondering why she was tripping. Kayla wouldn't have done anything but sat in a corner all night sipping on a virgin daiquiri, telling every brotha who tried to step to her that they needed Jesus in their life.
“You know what,” I finally said as I made a U-turn in the middle of the road. “We are going to Tropical Liquors. I'm gettin' me a frozen Long Island Tea, and you a daiquiri, then we're rollin' out. When we get to St. Louis, I'm droppin' your ass off at the hotel.”
“Where're you going?” Kayla asked.
“I'm going to get me some dick.”
Chapter 2
KAYLA
S
hortly after Renee left, Kayla moved to the bathroom to run herself a bath. She slipped out of her shoes, then reached into her tote bag for her Calgon. She needed to be taken away. As soon as she adjusted the water temperature, she took a seat on one of the full-size beds and reached for the phone. Digging into her purse, she removed her calling card and placed a long distance call, then hung up. By the time she pulled her pajamas from her suitcase the phone rang.
She grabbed it on the first ring. “Hello?”
“I see you made it safely,” said a deep baritone voice.
“What happened to you this afternoon? I thought you were coming to see me before I left.”
“I couldn't get away.”
“Leroy, I'm so sick of hearing that excuse. When are you going to tell her the truth?” Kayla huffed.
There was a long pause before she finally heard him say, “I promise to tell her before you get back from Jamaica.”
Kayla grinned, pleased at his response. She had been waiting almost two years for this day to come. “I miss you already.”
“I miss you too, baby. I'll see you when you get back.”
“All right.” Kayla was still smiling long after she hung up the phone. Reverend Leroy Brown would soon be hers.
Sinking down into the tub of steaming hot water, she sighed. Oh, it felt good, although having some of Leroy's good loving before she left would have been even better.
Closing her eyes, she affected a dreamy expression. Renee thought she was sweet and innocent. If she knew Kayla was having an affair with a married man, she would probably shit her pants. Kayla giggled at her secret before her expression sobered.
She never set out to fall in love with Reverend Brown. It just happened.
Kayla had been an active member of Mt. Carmel Baptist Church for almost a decade and during that time she had seen them go through several different pastors.
Reverend Green, a young man straight out of the sanctuary, preferred to spend his evenings visiting the single women of the church, making sure all their
needs
were met. He didn't last five months before the elders of the church ran him out.
Reverend Hollis came to them from another church. He preached on Sundays and fornicated the other six days. He could be found in every strip club in the city. The deacons knew, but what could they do without implicating themselves? It wasn't until Hollis started taking the church's money and tossing those dollars across the stage that they finally had the grounds to dismiss him.
When Reverend Leroy Brown, his wife Darlene, and their four adorable children came to Mt. Carmel, the congregation's prayers were finally answered. He could preach a sermon that made you want to stand up and shout. He could also talk his congregation into filling the offering plate. It wasn't long before word got around about his ministry, and their congregation increased tremendously.
Kayla took an instant liking to him because Leroy reminded her so much of her grandfather. Reverend Sparks led a large Baptist church in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Everyone admired him and she always felt so proud knowing she was his favorite granddaughter. At ten she vowed to marry a man just like him.
Leroy was a tall man, dark as melted chocolate and just as smooth. Kayla was willing to head any committee he needed, just to be near him. She didn't try to fall in love with him, and even tried to deny it for as long as she could; however, on one particular night there was no getting around it.
It was Wednesday night and they had just finished Bible study. Mrs. Brown had stayed at home because their son Tyree had a bit of a cold. Kayla said good-bye to everyone and was halfway to her car when her four-year-old daughter Asia cried that she needed to go to the bathroom.
“Girl, why didn't you say something earlier?” Kayla scolded, wishing that she had left Asia with her older sister, who had stayed home to complete a paper for school.
“I didn't have to go then.” Asia dancing with her legs clamped tightly together, Kayla grabbed her hand and pulled her back to the church and down the stairs to the ladies' room. As quickly as Kayla could get Asia to wash her hands and dry them off on a paper towel they were back up the stairs and out the door just as Reverend Brown was locking it.
He gave her a warm smile. “Sister Sparks, I didn't know anyone was still here.”
“Sorry, Asia had to make a pit stop.”
“No problem.” He smiled.
Reverend Brown was such a patient man. She had seen it many times when the women of the church were ranting and raving about one thing or another. He always seemed so calm and laid back that he made you feel guilty for acting a fool.
“How's school coming along?” he asked as he walked them down the dirt road to her car.
“Fine, just fine. I should be graduating in December.”
“Good. Very good. I'm proud of you.”
“Thank you.” Her hands were shaking. She hadn't even known that he knew she was taking evening college classes. Did that mean he had been asking about her? She was so nervous she thought she would throw up the lasagna she'd had for dinner.
Kayla waved as the last car pulled away from the church. There was now no one but Kayla, Asia, and Reverend Brown.
They continued walking in companionable silence. It was a wonderful evening. The sky was full of stars and there was a slight warm breeze, a clear indicator that spring was almost over and summer was quickly on its way.
When they reached her car, Leroy turned to her. “Well, Sister, I guess we'll see you at church on Sunday.”
She nodded, nervously, not sure what else to do. Fumbling, she reached into her pocket and removed her keys. He opened the back door and helped Asia in.
“Thanks, Reverend Brown.” Kayla had just reached down to open her door when his hand slipped over hers. She raised her eyes to meet his sexy brown eyes.
“Call me Leroy.” The words slipped off his tongue like melted butter.
“A-all right, Leroy.” She couldn't have looked away even if she had wanted to.
“Please tell me if I'm wrong but I get the feeling that you're attracted to me.”
His statement startled her. How had he known?
As if he could read her mind, his thick lips curled confidently as he spoke, “I've seen the way you look at me.”
She was embarrassed. The Lord was certain to strike her down for thinking such things! Before she could think of something to say, his thumb began to caress the back of her hand. “Reverend, I—”
He held up a hand. “Ever since I met you I've wanted to get to know you better. But because I'm married and a man of God, I knew it was wrong.” He hesitated a moment. “But things have changed. I have tried for years to make my wife happy and it seems no matter what I do, it's never good enough. I've tried to convince her to go to counseling but she refuses. We don't even sleep together anymore.” He reached up and grazed her smooth cheek with his fingertips. “I know this is probably totally out of line but I'd like to get to know you better.”
Speechless, Kayla looked up at him, eyes wide as saucers. For almost a year she had dreamed about this exact moment when Reverend Brown would confess his love. Now that she finally had his interest, she didn't know what to say or do.
So she panicked.
Heart pounding a mile a minute, Kayla hopped in her car and sped away as fast as she could. As much as she wanted him, adultery was wrong, and she knew it. She had to stay strong. But with all the pain and heartache that she had experienced in the last fifteen years of her life, she didn't want to be strong. She wanted to be held and her heartache to be replaced with love.
Reverend Brown called her every night for a week before she finally gave in and met him for dinner at a small restaurant thirty miles away. She listened to him talk about his wife's refusal to make love to him, and the way she belittled him in front of her friends. On Sunday, Kayla saw the first lady of the church in a new light. By the second week, Leroy was sending her flowers at work.
One Friday night, he called and asked her to go with him the following evening to Macon, Missouri, where he was visiting a church. Without hesitation, Kayla dropped her girls off with her mother Saturday afternoon and waited for Leroy to pick her up. After waiting for almost two hours, he called to say that he had finally asked his wife for a divorce and all hell had broken loose. He went on to say that he was already in Macon and was too upset to attend the Saturday evening program. However, he had checked into a Motel 6 and could use her company.
Kayla threw her suitcase in the trunk of her beat-up Cutlass Supreme and made the twenty-minute drive to the hotel on the outskirts of the city. The entire time she cursed Darlene Brown for letting a good man like Leroy slip through her fingers. Nevertheless, Kayla was thankful that she was there to pick up the pieces.
She parked around back then walked to room 2B and knocked. Leroy peeked through a crack in the door and made sure no one was looking before he let her in. As soon as he closed the door, he pulled her into his arms and held her tight.
“Thank you for coming. I could use your strength right now.”
I should be thanking you
, she thought as she returned the embrace. His heart was pounding just as hard as hers. Leroy could have chosen any woman to spend his evening with and he had chosen her.
He pulled back, breathing hard, eyes dark with longing. Then, without warning, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Those big juicy lips stole her breath away. His kiss was long and gentle. Without thinking, she gave into the kiss, the sweep of his tongue, the strong arms that held her.
Breaking the kiss, Leroy stared down into her eyes. “Forgive me, Lord, for what I am feeling for this lady is wrong,” he prayed while waiting for some sign of resistance.
Kayla swallowed. Seeing the tears falling from his eyes, she ignored the inner voice telling her it was wrong. It was only right that she be there to comfort him.
“I want to be with you, and as soon as I can, I'm going to do right by you.” His hand then came down to cup her left breast. The contact almost brought her to her knees. He fondled her nipple while his lips nipped at her neck.
Oh, heaven help me!
She wasn't sure when he unbuttoned her blouse or removed her bra. All she knew was that she was laying across the bed watching him slip off his pants, followed by his silk boxers. She stared down at his penis standing proud. Her smile faltered slightly before she reminded herself, it isn't the size of the ship but the motion of the ocean.
Lying down beside her, Leroy commenced to licking and sucking her in all the right places until she was begging for more.
It wasn't until he entered her that Kayla thought maybe she was making a mistake. But when the words
I love you
slipped from his tongue, right or wrong no longer mattered. Only how good he made her feel.
Shifting in the tub, Kayla's mind returned to the present.
“Lord, please forgive me. I know what I am doing is wrong but I can't help myself. I love him so much.” How could something that felt so right be wrong? That was a question she had been asking herself for almost two years.
BOOK: In The Company of My Sistahs
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