Put A Ring On It (34 page)

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. He cut off Nivea’s words with a frantic kiss to the lips of her pussy. His tongue darted and played against her clit. Separating her satiny folds, his tongue plunged into her thickened honey. Knox feasted between her legs, lapping the outpouring of moisture, his tongue rolling in slow undulating waves, provoking Nivea to frenzied jerks of passion.

“That was fantastic,” Knox said, sitting up, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“I know. You make me cum harder than any man I’ve ever been with.” She kissed him again, and stared at his face. “I’m so happy, Knox.”

“I’m happy, too.”

“I like it when you sleep nude. I may want something else later on tonight,” she teased, caressing his girth that had awakened.

“I can’t stay tonight. I have to go.” He sat up and began searching under the covers for his underwear.

“Why can’t you stay?”

“I have to get some rest. You know Courtney’s moving into my apartment early tomorrow morning.”

Her ears had to be deceiving her. All she could do was grimace and hold up her hands questioningly.

“Courtney’s sick of living with your parents. She’s moving in.”

“B-but you broke up with Courtney.” Nivea’s voice was weak and tearful.

Knox looked at Nivea as if she’d sprouted another head. “You can’t be serious. I thought we were role-playing. All these months, you’ve been telling me that you love the way I keeping coming up with fantasises; you said you enjoy the way I can come up with a variety of scenarios.” Squinting at Nivea, Knox shook his head.

“You’re joking! You gotta be fucking kidding me!”Nivea watched in shock as Knox quickly dressed. Hysteria rising, she grabbed the first thing she saw…the bedside lamp. It was a beautiful piece with a crystal base, and though she hated to damage it, she needed to use it as a weapon. Holding the lamp by its neck, she swung it like she was wielding a baseball bat, aiming for Knox’s
head. He ducked and was struck on his back, but the blow wasn’t as severe as Nivea intended.

Knox gave her a hard shove, knocking her across the room. “Hold up, Nivea. I’m not sure what we’re doing. Do you want me to get rough with you? Is this one of your fantasies?”

Nivea clutched her stomach; tears ran down her face. “I’m about to vomit. I swear to God, I’m about to throw up. I can’t believe I let you play me again, motherfucker.”

Knox raced to the safety of the doorway. “I’ll call you in a couple days to see if you’re feeling better, okay? Better yet, call me when you’re back in the mood for something freaky.”

“Get out, you sick bastard! I hate you!” Nivea screamed.

Vangie went to the post office to pick up a registered letter. Registered letters never contain good news, so she braced herself as she accepted the envelope from the postal clerk. With trembling hands, she tore open the envelope and the words she read made her eyes burn. A total of two hundred and sixty-five dollars would be coming out of her biweekly paychecks.

That’s over five hundred a month. What the fuck! The system is fucked up, anytime they help a no-good man screw over a hardworking mother. How can something like this be happening to me?
Tears of anger streamed down Vangie’s face as she drove to pick Yuri up from the after-school childcare. She wiped her tears and held it together until she and Yuri were back in the car.

“Strap up your seat belt,” Vangie said in a tearful voice.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?”

“Your father is trying to rob me.”

“Why? My daddy has a lot of money.”

“I know. But he gets it under the table.”

“His money’s not under the table; it’s in his pocket,” Yuri said innocently.

Infuriated, Vangie pulled out her cell and called Shawn. “I hope you’re happy, you lying bastard. You should be ashamed of yourself, motherfucker! Stealing the little bit of money I make. How am I supposed to keep a roof over your son’s head?”

“Mommy!” Yuri yelled from the backseat.

“Shut up, Yuri!” Vangie shouted.

“Cussing and carrying on in front of my son is not cool,” Shawn said.

“Fuck you!”

“Don’t make me haul you back into court for full custody.”

“You and your scheming attorney are trying to ruin my life! I fucking hate you!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Naw, you don’t hate me…you hate yourself because your scheming backfired. I take care of my son. Yeah, I owe you back money, and in time you would have gotten it. You know that. But you wanted revenge…how do you like the taste?”

“You’re not going to get away with this shit, Shawn. You’re wrong and you know it.”

“Whatever, man.” Shawn hung up on Vangie.

Sniffling sounds from the backseat drew Vangie’s attention. “What’s wrong with you, Yuri?” she asked irritably.

“I don’t like it when you cuss at my daddy.”

“Your father is stealing my hard-earned money and you’re shedding tears over him?”

Yuri cried louder.

Oh, dear God, what am I going to do?
Feeling like the entire world was against her, Vangie put the car into drive and pulled out of the parking spot.

Summer

T
he Lowery Castle was a beautiful venue that sat majestically above a tree-lined drive, surrounded by acres of lush green lawns, and meandering streams. The picturesque grounds, along with glorious blue sky and sunshine were the perfect backdrop for an outdoor ceremony. Every aspect of the wedding was planned and executed in detail. From the Rolls Royce Phantom the couple arrived in, to the hundreds of beautiful floral arrangements, the three-course meal of steak and chicken, the four-tier wedding cake, dessert station, and the premier wedding photographer.

Courtney and Knox’s big day was set to be a platinum affair by anyone’s standards.

Denise Westcott sat in the front row, beaming with pride. She had to bribe Courtney with the promise of a down payment on her dream home to persuade her to drop the tacky fairy tale theme and embrace a traditional wedding. House or no house, Courtney would not give up her castle. Acknowledging the beauty and splendor of the venue, Mrs. Westcott approved wholeheartedly.

Amidst four other bridesmaids, the groomsmen, and the groom, Nivea stood seething. She cut an eye at Knox, trying to silently inform him that there was still time to back out of this horrible charade.

But Knox stared straight ahead, deliberately ignoring her as he
smiled at the lovely little flower girl who approached, purposefully tossing petals from a basket.

“I hate you.” She mouthed the words at Knox, but his eyes were focused on Courtney, who had entered through a dreamy, gauze and floral-decorated arch. Wearing a breathtaking off-white, satin, strapless beaded gown, Courtney was stunning as she floated down the aisle, escorted by her father.

While the guests rose and applauded Courtney’s entrance, Nivea was breathing fire and trembling with rage.
This is a travesty. Knox doesn’t love Courtney; he should be marrying me!

For Nivea, it was pure torture listening to Courtney and Knox exchanging long-winded, honey-dripped vows.
Lies, lies, lies,
Nivea shouted in her mind.

When the time came for Knox to put the ring on Courtney’s finger, the best man took on a frightened look, and began fumbling inside his pocket.
Yay! He forgot the ring! No ring; no marriage,
Nivea told herself as she held her breath, hoping for a miracle.

But the ring was soon produced. Knox gazed lovingly at Courtney and placed the ring on her finger. “I now pronounce you man and wife,” the preacher announced.

Knox gathered Courtney in his arms and kissed her with unbridled passion. Sickened by the gratuitous spectacle, Nivea gagged and heaved, emitting a gush of multi-colored vomit that splattered Courtney’s pristine wedding gown.

The entire wedding party, including the pastor, jumped out of the line of fire, as Nivea continued heaving and retching.

“Get this bullshit off of me,” Courtney shrieked. “This can’t be happening. Not on my wedding day! Oh, God, this is not happen-ingggggggg!”

The guests erupted in stunned gasps, their hands covering
their mouths as they gaped at the sight of Courtney’s befouled wedding dress.

His face twisted in disgust, Knox attempted to soothe and calm Courtney, but was careful not to get too close.

Determined to bring some order to the chaotic situation, Mrs. Westcott rose from her seat, snatching the satiny fabric that decorated the back of her chair.

Glowering as she passed Nivea, Mrs. Westcott raced to Courtney’s aid.

Using the satin fabric, she tried wiping the vomit that oozed thickly down Courtney’s designer gown, but she quickly gave up. Mrs. Westcott grabbed Courtney by the hand. “Come on, baby. Mother’s going to get you out of this disgusting dress.”

Pushing past the pastor, she took a moment to glower at Nivea. “Get out of my sight, Nivea! You’re a damned disgrace, spewing your guts out on your sister’s wedding day!”

“I didn’t get sick on purpose,” Nivea cried, standing bowed and clutching her stomach, as if expecting another explosion.

“Couldn’t you have excused yourself?” Mrs. Westcott snapped, wheeling away, tugging along her hysterical younger daughter.

“No, I couldn’t excuse myself!” Nivea yelled in a voice that was loud enough for all the guests to hear. “Unfortunately, this baby that I’m carrying doesn’t care that it’s his father’s wedding day!”

Mrs. Westcott froze. A hush went over the astonished guests.

“What did you say?” Courtney demanded, her bewildered gaze roving back and forth from Nivea to Knox.

Eyes wide, Knox shook his head, palms held heavenward.

“Don’t play dumb, Knox,” Nivea said snidely. “Don’t you think it’s time to tell your little bride about our secret love affair?”

Guests murmured excitedly. Mrs. Westcott fanned herself. Courtney’s face crumpled with pain and humiliation.

“I think I’m going to faint,” Courtney whimpered.

“Your sister is a liar,” Mrs. Westcott hissed. “Get out of here, Nivea. Right now! Get out before I have you physically removed.”

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving.” Nivea turned to Knox. “This isn’t over, Knox. You don’t fuck me over me and get to have a fairy tale ending.”

Harlow was in town with Drake and Vangie couldn’t wait to share her good news.

Vangie and Harlow were seated inside the crowded Copabanna Restaurant on Fortieth Street. The place was jam-packed with noisy college students and tourists.

“I know you like to dine at five-star eateries, but we’re on my dime,” Vangie informed, laughing. “By the way, your ring is nice, but I still don’t understand why you traded in your big bling.”

“I like this ring better,” Harlow said, and then quickly changed the subject. “And as far as eating at here at Copa’s…Vangie, you know I still get down with their buffalo wings. And where else can I get a big ass container of Spanish Fries? So what’s your news?”

“I don’t have to pay Shawn another dime,” Vangie announced, grinning.

“For real?”

Vangie nodded.

“I knew Shawn would come to his senses and do the right thing.”

“Hmph. Shawn didn’t do the right thing. I did.”

“Explain…”

“Well, I knew that there had to be a way for me to prove that Shawn had income. I just couldn’t see myself paying him all that money until Yuri’s eighteen.”

“Umph.” Harlow shook her head.

“So I did some online research and I found countless cases of women paying men child support. Reading all of the information
was so helpful to me, and let me know that I wasn’t alone and that there were solutions.”

The waiter interrupted to take their order.

“I’ll have Southern-style crab cakes and buffalo wings,” Vangie said.

Harlow gave the menu one last glance. “Chicken fingers for me and Spanish fries. Oh yeah, and I’ll have a raspberry margarita with a sugar rim.”

“That sounds good. Make that two raspberry margaritas,” Vangie added.

“Okay, so what did you do?” Harlow asked after the waiter walked away.

“I hired a private investigator. I got his name off the Internet and called him immediately.”

“Seriously?”

“Hell, yeah. His name is Mr. Mansfield. He wanted a hundred and twenty-five an hour, but once he heard my story, he cut me a big break.”

Harlow peered at Vangie. “Okay…”

“Well, I called him, and I was like, ‘I need to prove that my baby daddy is earning an income. Can you get me some evidence that I can take to court with me?’”

Harlow giggled. “You got right to the point, huh?”

“I couldn’t afford to be playing around. Can you imagine going to work every day to pay some nucca to spend some time with his own son?”

“No. That’s horrible. I’m shocked that Shawn would do you like that.”

“Shawn’s been watching too much TV. All this K-Fed, Halle Berry baby daddy bullshit done put ideas in his head. But I ain’t got it like Britney and Halle; I had to handle my business. So I
met with Mr. Mansfield and gave him a picture of Shawn. I gave him Shawn’s address, his job location, and told him what kind of vehicle he drives.”