Married on Mondays (18 page)

It was customary for each of them to buy one pair of stilettos each week, and their next tradition was to split up for an
hour, shop on their own, and buy something special for one another.

Foxy headed to the jewelry store for her hour. She picked out diamond-encrusted Xs and Os charms that represented the love
she felt for her sisters. “Gift wrap three of these for me, please. Separately,” she said.

She stopped outside a kids’ clothing store. Watched mothers shop for their babies. Strolling the mall, she noticed babies
in beautiful carriages and pregnant women. She loved the way the expecting mothers glowed and was especially fond of the men
holding hands with the pregnant women. Foxy glanced down at her flat stomach wondering if she’d get stretch marks.

Arriving at their favorite restaurant in the mall, Foxy joined DéJà and Victoria who were already seated. She placed her gift
bags on the chair beside her. After lunch and before ordering dessert, they would exchange presents.

“The usual, ladies?” the waiter asked.

“Yes,” DéJà said. “And bring a bottle of champagne. We’re celebrating.”

Foxy and Victoria frowned at DéJà. “Don’t ask,” Foxy said, looking at Victoria. She picked up her bags, handed DéJà a black
bag and Victoria a white one. She kept the red one. “I don’t want to wait. Open your gifts now.”

DéJà covered her mouth, then removed her bracelet from the box. “Foxy, this is beautiful.” DéJà extended her arms for a hug.

“Foxy, what in the world were you thinking?” Victoria asked. “This is too much.” Victoria leaned toward Foxy with open arms.

“From my heart to yours. I have one too. We’ll wear our bracelets to symbolize our sisterhood and everlasting friendship.”
DéJà fastened Victoria’s bracelet. Victoria fastened Foxy’s and Foxy did DéJà’s.

“Okay, I can’t wait either,” Victoria said, handing Foxy her gift.

Inside a small pink box was a small pink crystal baby bootee with a gold bow.

DéJà stared at Victoria. Narrowed her eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

Victoria frowned. “Didn’t what? She wants a baby so I got her something special.”

Inside the box DéJà gave Foxy was a small sapphire crystal baby bootee with a platinum bow.

“Great minds think alike,” Victoria said.

DéJà stared from the corners of her eyes at Victoria. “We do not think alike. What is in those other bags you have?”

“None of your business,” Victoria said, moving her bag to the chair beside Foxy.

“Okay, you two,” Foxy said. “This is the easy part. I love both bootees. And regardless of what I have, I’m covered on both
ends.”

While the waiter poured three glasses of champagne, Foxy’s cell phone buzzed. She said, “I have to take this, it’s Dallas.”

“Don’t answer it,” DéJà said, grabbing Foxy’s wrist. “He’ll ruin our celebration.”

Victoria crossed her fingers, placed them over her heart, shook her head, then mouthed, “Do not answer the call.” She jingled
her bracelet.

“I have to,” Foxy said, excusing herself from the table. “Hey.”

Dallas sighed heavily in her ear, “I need you to bail me out.”

“Bail you out of what? What now? Not another DUI,” she said, scanning for a semiprivate area to talk in the crowded mall.

“Jail. That’s what. I’m in Crème City Jail.”

“I’m on my way,” she said, rushing inside the restaurant.

Foxy picked up her purse, placed the two baby bootees back in their boxes, then in her purse. “Thanks for the gifts. Can’t
stay for lunch. Gotta go.”

DéJà stood, blocked her exit. “Foxy, no. When are you going to let go of Dallas? He’s a grown man. He can take care of himself.
Sit down.” DéJà handed Foxy a glass of champagne.

“Your prayer at the altar, remember that?” Victoria added.

Foxy ran out of the restaurant. She had driven and fortunately the keys to DéJà’s car were in her purse. Her sisters would
have no problem getting home. They shouldn’t drink and drive anyway. Acer or Naomi could pick them up. Foxy rushed downtown.

Dallas had never been arrested. Why was he in jail? “Oh, my God, no.” Almost running a red light, Foxy slammed on the brakes.
She thought about the soaked wedding albums. “Winton wouldn’t have.”

O
ne curveball after another, Foxy had no control over Dallas’s actions, but she’d never leave him in jail. There were too many
black men already incarcerated. Dallas was a good man, a loving father, and had never been to prison.

She sat in the bail bonds office shaking her left leg. “Please hurry.”

“These things take time,” the bondsman said. “Calm down. It’s just an attachment for a DUI.” An unlit cigar dangled from his
lips. “I need five thousand dollars cash, and what are you going to use for collateral?” he asked.

Her leg shook faster. “Cash? Collateral?” She hadn’t thought about that. It was Sunday. The banks were closed. She couldn’t
use her house. She refused to use her business. “I’ll be right back,” she said.

“I’ll be right here,” the bondsman said.

Foxy walked a block to the automated teller machine. The only debit card in her purse was for her joint account with her husband.
She had no choice. Take the money or leave Dallas in jail overnight. She keyed in her pin number, then withdrew five grand.
She’d redeposit the funds first thing Monday morning.

Returning to the bondsman’s office, she handed him the money and the registration to her car. “Here. This ought to do.”

He glanced at the make and model of her luxury car. “Sure will,” he said smiling.

She paced while he typed on his computer. He handed her a paper. “Take this across the street.”

She’d done as he’d instructed. Had to wait in line. Wait for more paperwork to be processed.

“Number two twenty-seven,” blared over the intercom.

Almost three hours had elapsed between the time Dallas had called her and for her number to be called. She hurried to the
counter, spoke to the clerk behind the glass window. “How much longer before I can bail out Dallas Washington?”

The clerk smiled, then said, “Wow. Are you sure you’re here for Dallas Washington? This is a first.”

“What’s a first? What? Don’t tell me I’m in the wrong place?”

He shook his head.

“Stop procrastinating,” Foxy said. “Tell me what’s a first. Did I do something wrong? I haven’t done this before.”

Four years married to Winton plus the one year she’d dated him, Foxy hadn’t been to a city, county, federal, or state prison.
Had no desire to be in the environment. The closest she’d come was serving jury duty.

The clerk smiled. “He’s already been bailed out.”

Had she heard him right? What he’d said made no sense. “Who bailed him out?”

“Attorney Winton Brown. Can you believe it was an error on his part? His assistant forgot to file the paperwork so the courts
issued an attachment on his client.”

“Forgot my ass,” Foxy said. “If DéJà would’ve kept her mouth shut, none of this wouldn’t have happened. And Winton, that bastard.
He didn’t have to do this.”

The clerk frowned. “Hey, aren’t you Brown’s wife?”

“Depends on who you ask,” she replied, storming off. Foxy drove to Dallas’s house, let herself in.

Dallas met her at his front door. He hugged, then kissed her. “I love you.”

“You don’t love me! What the hell just happened here?” Foxy asked, throwing her purse and DéJà’s car key on the sofa. “I waited
forever to bail you out to find out you were already out. Why didn’t you call me?”

He laughed. “At first I was ready to kick Winton’s ass. But sitting in that cell gave me time to think. I can’t be mad at
you or him. Now, if I were Winton, I’d be disappointed in myself if I were mistreating a woman as good as you. But I know
how men think, and regardless of how screwed up our relationships are, we do not want another man sticking his dick in our
woman. After all the years we’ve been together.” Dallas frowned, hunched his shoulders. “You think he knows about us?”

Foxy hadn’t told Dallas what her sister had said. She figured Dallas didn’t need to know. Foxy followed Dallas to the bedroom.
“He knows for sure now. Big mouth DéJà told him. This is her fault.”

“What?”

“Well, she told Acer and Winton overheard.”

“Your sister needs to mind her own damn business,” Dallas said, sitting on the bed.

“Don’t go there. DéJà is going to be DéJà.”

“Yeah, and you can talk about her but I can’t. And you’re going to defend her to the end. What she did was intentional. But
none of that matters now. Today you proved again that you are my lady for life. Let’s go out and celebrate.”

Foxy scratched the back of her neck. Was her relationship with Dallas destined? The moment she felt she wanted to have a baby
for her husband, she was sucked into a tornado of emotions that flung her to Dallas. “Celebrate what?”

“Never have I had a more loyal friend than you. This is my way of saying thanks. Can’t hang a price tag on what you won’t
do for me. I feel great! Let’s go.”

She had Dallas follow her to DéJà’s, parked her sister’s car in the driveway, left the key under the mat, got in his car.
They dined at the top of the Marquis, sat in a booth with a rotating floor. Every twenty minutes Winton’s building came into
view. Foxy wondered if her husband was in his office working or fucking.

Dallas ordered the best of everything on the menu, way too much food for them to eat. They sampled sushi, sashimi, lobster,
steak, crab cakes, calamari, and the food kept coming along with bottles of wine.

Making it back to Dallas’s house was a blur for Foxy, but she managed to slur, “Thanks for dinner.”

Dallas kissed her, picked her up, stumbled to the bedroom with her in his arms. He dropped her on the bed, fell on top of
her, then said, “Tonight, I’m gonna fuck you like you’re my woman and make love to you like you’re my wife.”

Anxious to have his body intertwined with hers, Foxy removed his clothes. “I’m going to suck every last sperm out your dick
or get lockjaw trying.”

Dallas grinned as though he were posing to have his picture taken.

Foxy sucked his soft dick into her mouth and swallowed. His head slid past her tonsils. She hummed, gurgled, moaned. “Ummm.”
Bobbing, she tightened her jaws, suctioning blood into his dick, then released. His dick stood at her attention.

Dallas stripped away her clothes, frisked his fingers through her hair, slapped her ass. “Down on all fours,” he said, pointing
to the floor.

Foxy got on her hands and knees, then smiled. She wasn’t into BDSM like DéJà, but she enjoyed what Dallas had introduced as
free play—impromptu moments where one of them initiated something out of the norm and the other immediately played along,
no questions asked. They didn’t have to be naked or in the bedroom to express themselves.

Free play could start at the restaurant with them feeding one another with their fingers or his finger fucking her under the
table. She could motion to whisper in his ear, then stick her tongue inside, and say, “Come fuck me in the restroom.”

Crawling behind her, Dallas circled her like he was a lion in the jungle and she was the lioness checking him out. He slapped
her titty, stood tall on his knees, swung his dick side to side. Foxy turned her ass to him, glanced over her shoulder, then
nodded.

“Come and get it,” she said.

He held her hips, penetrated her pussy, then like a wild beast he fucked her fast. Instantly she came. He pulled out, put
it back in. Pulled out. Put his dick back inside her. “I am one lucky man,” he said, ejaculating on her ass. Dallas massaged
his sperm on Foxy’s booty.

She rubbed her ass, then sucked each of her fingers. “Got more?”

He eased his dick back inside, then said, “There’s a lot more. I’m just getting started, baby.”

Foxy placed her hand on Dallas’s chest. “Stop.”

“What’s wrong?”

She sat on the edge of his bed. “I don’t understand why one minute I’m so in love with you. Then I feel guilty for being with
you. All these years you’ve been an emotional outlet for me but is this—” She paused, sighed, then continued. “Is what we
have love? Or are we two people who don’t want to be alone?”

Dallas exhaled. Held her hand. “Come here,” he said, leading her to the living room. He powered on his iPod. “All the Man
That I Need” by Whitney Houston resonated from his Bose speakers.

He hugged her. Lay her head against his chest. “Remember, you dedicated this song to me on our first anniversary? Please don’t
tell me I’m not all the man you need. Other than my girls, you’re all I’ve got.”

Tears streamed between her cheek and his chest. “I’m scared of letting go. I’m afraid to keep holding on.”

An eclipse of her heart resurged. Once again Foxy was confused. Dazzling baby bootees in her purse. Her man fucking her doggie-style.
Her husband, only God knew where, probably wouldn’t come home again tonight. Fair exchange at this point in her marriage was
necessary for her to maintain her sanity. Foxy decided to stay with Dallas until midnight, then she’d go home.

There was next Sunday to try and share time and her newfound desires with her husband. And no matter what happened tonight.
She could pray about it tomorrow.