Let's Get It On (3 page)

“There's no need for us to meet for lunch, because I'll see you at dinner,” Mya revealed.

“Dinner?”

“Yes, I've decided to go after some NFL money, too. It just so happens that he's Mo's best friend.”

“Don't do this, Mya.”

“I'm just following your lead. You can't have it both ways, do as I say and not as I do.”

The dial tone sounded in Lauryn's ear. How could Mya do this? What was she trying to prove by dating Mo's best friend?

“Lauryn,” Maurice called from the bathroom, “you want to join me?”

“I have to run to Mya's, but I'll rub your back when I return,” she said as she opened the door to leave.

 

 

Moments later, Lauryn found herself sitting in front of a moss-covered apartment complex in the historic Southpark community. Thinking back, she realized that the day she and Mya had met in college, everything had changed for her. Mya had opened her eyes to a new world of pleasure, a world of loving a woman. For the last eight years, they'd kept their affair a secret.

 

 

One night, while Mya and Lauryn were in their dorm room, Mya had popped in a videotape of two women kissing and making love. Though it was pornography, Lauryn had never seen sex depicted so tenderly and so erotically. It turned her on, and she wasn't sure what to make of her feelings. Turning to Mya, she had said, “What is this?”

Mya had smiled as she muted the volume. “Ever wonder what it would be like to be touched that way?”

“By a woman?”

Mya closed the space between them. “By me.”

Before Lauryn could react, Mya had had her in her arms and had kissed her with an intensity that she'd never felt before.

 

 

Shaking her head, Lauryn emerged from the car. She had to do something. No longer could she deny what she felt for Mya, but was that enough to give up what she'd built with Maurice? Could she give up that money? Give up what came along with being an NFL wife?

It wasn't as if Mya didn't reap a reward from Lauryn's relationship with Maurice. As she walked up the steps leading to Mya's place, she resolved to end her relationship with Mya. It had gone on too long. Besides, she wasn't gay. Was she?

No, this is over. I'm ending this, and she can do what she wants to with whomever she pleases,
Lauryn thought as she pressed the door chime.

Mya opened the door, dressed in a short silk bathrobe. Temporarily, Lauryn was rendered speechless when she saw her. Emerald was definitely her color.

“We-we need to talk,” Lauryn said when she found her voice.

Mya raised her sculpted eyebrows. “I knew you were the one at the my door,” she said as she stood aside.

Lauryn walked into the living room and ran her hand across the mantel above the fireplace. “I can't do this anymore, and if you want to date Homer, then go right ahead and do it.”

“I don't want him, L. I want you. How do you think I feel watching you with Maurice and knowing that in a few months you'll have this lavish wedding? You can't go through with it.”

“You're insane.”

“And you love me. Admit it.”

“I-I . . .”

Mya dropped her robe, revealing her toned and naked body. “You love me, you need me, and you don't want to marry Maurice.”

“I'm not gay.”

“Really? What are you then? You love sexing me more than being with Mo, your words, not mine.”

“I know what I said. I didn't mean it.”

“Then why are you here?” Mya inched closer to her. “You could've told me this over the phone, in an e-mail, or on my BlackBerry.”

Their lips were inches apart. Mya wrapped her arms around Lauryn's waist, pulling her closer until she could easily devour her lips.

Though Lauryn should've pushed away, she gave into the kiss, allowing Mya to strip her down and kiss every inch of her body until she felt as if she was going to explode.

“Don't marry him,” Mya breathed against Lauryn's ear. “We can be together, make a life together.”

“No,” Lauryn whispered, holding Mya tightly. “I'm going to marry him.”

Mya pushed Lauryn away. “You're never going to be happy with him, and I'm not going to be your little secret anymore.”

“What are you saying?”

“It's over. You can live this lie if you want to, but I won't do it anymore.”

“Mya, I-I . . .”

Stepping back, Mya pointed toward the door. “Eight years, Lauryn, and that's too long for me to play the background like this. You won't let me move on with my life, and you don't want to be a real part of my life. We're not just friends. That line was crossed a long time ago.”

Lauryn dropped her head in her hands. “Please don't do this. Don't ask me to choose when I want you both.”

“No more. You can't have both. Go on. Walk out the door, if you can.”

Lauryn turned to the door and tried not to look back. But once she grasped the doorknob, she turned around and saw Mya in tears. There was no way she could leave.

“That's it, that's it. The Carolina Panthers win the Super Bowl on a last-second catch by wide receiver Maurice Goings! For the first time in franchise history, the Panthers are world champions,” the announcer yelled excitedly.

Kenya walked away from the bar and back to the table with her coworkers. The firm had rented a ballroom in a downtown hotel for a Super Bowl party. Because she was playing office politics, Kenya was pretending to be enjoying herself. But every time she heard Maurice's name or saw a flash of his fiancée on the screen, she wanted to vomit.

Wallace Norman, one of the lawyers in Kenya's department, took a seat beside her.

“Having fun?” he said as he sucked down a beer.

“Oh yeah,” she said flatly.

“Didn't you go to school with Mo Goings?”

“So what if I did? Obviously, we didn't keep in touch,” she snapped.

“Hey,” he replied, throwing his hands up. “Don't bite my head off.” He pushed his beer bottle aside and smiled at Kenya.

Kenya rose to her feet. She'd had enough of this crap. “I'll see you Monday.”

Wallace stood, cornering her so that she couldn't get away. “You know what you need, Kenya? A good, long—”

“Can you say ‘sexual harassment'?”

“Let me finish. A good massage,” he said, obviously backpedaling in terms of what he was going to say. “You walk around the office, looking tense and mad all the time. Do you have a man in your life?”

“Get away from me.”

“One date? Dinner, movie, and maybe a nightcap.”

Kenya looked at Wallace. He was attractive, about six feet tall, muscular, and the color of milk chocolate. But he was ultra-arrogant. The last thing she needed was to get involved with another man with an ego.

She wasn't about to let another man come into her life and break her heart ever again.
Wallace looks like a heart-breaker,
she thought as she slipped on her coat.

“I'm going to be straight with you, Wallace. Relationships aren't my thing, and dating doesn't rank on my list of priorities. I have way too much work on my plate, and I don't need distractions.”

Nodding, Wallace took a step back. “So you're one of those women, Miss Super Career Chick, who doesn't need a man? All right, Miss Kenya. But money can't give you babies, kiss you at night, or hold you when it's cold.”

She shook her head and placed her purse on her shoulder. “I can adopt, kiss a dog, and invest in an electric blanket. Good night.”

“What are you? A lesbian or something?”

“Do you find it so hard to believe that I don't want you? You're not Mr. Irresistible. I can live without you. I've gotten along just fine this long. I think I'll make it through the night.”

“Whatever,” Wallace snapped as Kenya turned her back and headed out the door.

As she stepped into the crisp night air, Kenya thought about what Wallace had said about her career. Yes, she'd replaced her longing for love with a drive to succeed. Kenya didn't mind working eighty hours a week, coming in on the weekend, or working though the holidays.

To the firm's partners, Kenya was a shining star. But to her friends and family, she was a train wreck waiting to happen. No one had the guts to tell her, though.

Aside from the occasional business dinner, Kenya didn't go out. Imani was married, so they didn't cruise the bars. The one guy she'd dated briefly couldn't keep her interested. He was handsome, stable, and looking for a relationship. But to Kenya, he was a bottle of Lunesta with legs.

Even now she couldn't remember his name or anything they'd done in the month they'd spent together. She'd broken up with him, using work as her excuse. But the truth was, he wasn't Maurice.

 

 

Jubilant. Euphoric. These were the feelings that Maurice should have been experiencing. Instead, he was filled with dread and gloom. Now that the season was over, he was going to have to go through with this wedding. It wasn't the thought of marriage that got to him, because he loved Lauryn. It was the spectacle that she'd turned it into. There were going to be camera crews, a write-up in
Carolina Bride
magazine, and a feature on News 6's
The Carolina Traveler.

As soon as he walked into the locker room, a spray of champagne hit him in the face. “MVP, MVP,” his teammates chanted.

Wiping his face, Maurice joined in the celebration, snatching a bottle of champagne from Homer and taking a big swig.

“Man, we are the champions. We're on top,” Homer said.

“Yeah,” Maurice said flatly.

“Wedding bell blues?” asked Homer.

“I wish there was one more game, man. This wedding is a hassle. We could have gotten married on an island somewhere, without all this fanfare.”

“You know how women are. They want that Cinderella crap, those Disney weddings, and they think happily ever after, as long as the money doesn't run out.”

“Lauryn isn't like that.”

Homer popped Maurice with a towel. “Don't be fooled. They're all like that,” he said before heading for the shower.

Maurice knew Homer was wrong. He knew one woman who didn't care about money and what he had to offer.

Kenya.

He found it funny that he always thought of Kenya at the strangest of times. Was his subconscious telling him that she was the one that he was supposed to be sharing his success with? After all, she'd helped him lay the foundation, and how had he repaid her? By letting her find out on her own that he was with another woman, without any warning. Nine years ago he'd allowed her to walk out of his life, and he felt so guilty about the way things had ended that he had never tried to contact her and apologize.

His mother, Maryann, had loved Kenya and had not been happy the day Maurice brought Lauryn home for Thanksgiving.

 

 

“Maurice, come in the kitchen and help me,” Maryann had said when she'd walked in on Lauryn and Maurice kissing again.

“Mrs. Goings, I'll help you,” Lauryn had said.

“That's quite all right, Mo, let's go,” Maryann had replied.

He'd followed his mother into the kitchen, knowing full well that he was going to be the one needing help.

“I don't like her. What happened to Kenya? She was smart, respectful, and wore clothes that covered her body.”

“She had a lot more body to cover,” Maurice had mumbled.

Maryann had popped Maurice on the hand with a wooden spoon. “What happened between you two?”

“People just grow apart.”

“Or did that one just part her legs?”

“Ma.” He wasn't going to talk about his sex life with his mother.

“All I'm saying is you have a future, and she's riding your coattails. What does she really know about you?”

“We're getting to know each other. I really care about Lauryn.”

“Don't get her pregnant, and don't make Kenya hate you. Kenya was a good girl, and she really cared about you, not your potential earnings, as if she's a bank about to offer you a loan. I see it in that girl's eyes, Maurice. She out for money.”

 

 

Why did I take your love for granted?
he thought as he stood underneath the hot shower spray.

“Hey, man, you got a crowd of reporters out there waiting on you,” one of his teammates called out.

“I'll be out in a minute,” Maurice said as he shut the water off.

After toweling off and covering his body with a dry towel, Maurice headed into the locker room to answer the questions from the reporters. It didn't take long for someone to ask him about his pending nuptials.

Forcing a smile, Maurice said, “I can't wait. Not only will I have a Super Bowl ring, but I get a wedding ring, too.”

“Which one means the most?” a reporter asked.

“I'm not touching that one,” Maurice replied, making everyone laugh. “Guys, I have got to go and meet up with my fiancée. Are there any more questions?”

The reporters shook their heads and congratulated Maurice on his season. As he dressed, his cell phone rang.

“Yeah.”

“Brother man! You were on fire out there,” James Goings, Maurice's brother, exclaimed. “I hate that I couldn't come to the game. When are you coming back to Charlotte?”

“Probably in the morning. Lauryn and I are going to hang out down here tonight.”

“You know, Ma still can't believe that you're marrying her.”

“I don't need to hear this tonight,” Maurice said. He'd had this conversation with his brother about their mother before.

Maryann had let everyone know that she didn't like Lauryn, and she didn't want her son to marry her.

“When you get back, me and the boys got a bachelor party planned for you,” James said.

“Looking forward to it,” he said. “I got to go before some more reporters come in here.”

When he hung up from his brother, Maurice slipped on his shoes and headed outside to cheers and Lauryn.

“Hey, baby,” Lauryn said as he pulled her close and kissed her on the neck. “You were awesome.”

“Thanks.”

“So, are we going to hit South Beach now?”

“Can we get to the hotel first? I need to relax for a minute.”

“Baby, you just won the Super Bowl. You need to party,” said Lauryn.

“You weren't out there getting hit by linebackers. If you want to party, go ahead.” Maurice stomped away from her and headed for the team bus. Lauryn ran after him.

“What is your problem?” Lauryn snapped.

“Life is more than a party. Okay?”

“Fine. Mya and I will hit the clubs, and you can rest,” Lauryn spat before turning on her heels and stomping away.

Maurice wasn't really sad to see her go.

 

 

After arriving at the hotel, Maurice sprawled across the king-sized bed, happy for a moment of peace. He turned his cell phone off and kicked his shoes off. He wasn't about to go to a smoky club after the pounding he'd taken on the field. Quarterback Jake Delhomme had kept throwing the ball across the middle, and Maurice had gone for it every time, as had the opposing cornerbacks and safetys. He had nearly been knocked out on a play in the third quarter. Luckily, his teammates had been inspired, and the defense had avenged those hits by sacking the other team's quarterback three times.

When Lauryn walked into the room, she shot a contemptuous look Maurice's way before changing into a micromini skirt and silver halter top. “Sure you don't want to go out with me?” she asked as she strapped on a pair of silver sandals with a four-inch heel.

“Hang out with your girl. It's fine. And look, I'm sorry about before,” replied Maurice.

Lauryn walked over to the bed, climbed on top of Maurice, and smiled. “It's okay. Next week we're going to be married, and I know this is a little stressful. You relax. You earned it, MVP.”

He kissed her chin. “Your girl and Homer are getting tight, huh?”

“No. She's not that serious about him. They're just kicking it.”

“How do you know?” he asked.

“I know Mya. She's not a one-man woman, so tell your boy not to get too attached, or he's going to get his heart broken.”

“Sounds like you don't want them together.”

Lauryn laughed nervously. “I really don't care what Mya does. But those two don't match.”

“Some people say that about us.”

“You mean your momma?” She rolled her eyes. “I guess she's not going to like me until I give her a grandchild. Can't she see that I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you?”

Maurice flipped her over so that he was on top of her. “Why don't you stay in with me tonight and let Mya and Homer kick it?”

“How often do we come to Miami? We have the rest of our lives to spend together and only one night here. I'll try to come back early.”

Maurice hid his disappointment as he let her up. He knew that she'd felt the throbbing erection between his legs.

“You're sure you don't want to come with us?” she asked as she adjusted her clothes.

“Nah, I'm going to order some room service and call it a night,” Maurice said.

Lauryn blew him a kiss as she headed out the door.

Alone in the room, Maurice's thoughts turned back to Kenya. Had the years been kind to her? Was she married? Still in Atlanta?

Maurice sat up, climbed out of bed, and crossed over to the minibar. Pouring himself a drink, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd made a mistake all those years ago.
Why am I thinking like this? I'm about to marry Lauryn, and I haven't heard from Kenya in nearly ten years. Hell, I'm probably the last thing on her mind.

 

 

Kenya leaned back on the sofa, wondering why she was torturing herself. There she sat, watching replay after replay of Maurice Goings. She didn't think it was possible that he could have gotten finer than he was in high school and college, but looking at him as a grown man, she knew that he was.

“Ugh,” she exclaimed as she turned the TV off. “I am not going to sit here and ponder what if. Maurice made his choice, and I hope he can live with it.”

But when she went to sleep that night, all she could dream about was kissing Maurice.