Suspicions (15 page)
Authors: Sasha Campbell
16
Tiffany
“You wanna suck my clit?”
I flinched. “What?”
Mrs. King gave me a concerned look. “I asked if you wanted some more fish.”
I forced a smile and shook my head. “No, thank you.”
I think I'm starting to lose my mind. Ever since I slept with Kimbel I have felt dirty. It's bad enough I went by Mama's and she immediately sensed that something was different about me. According to her, she could smell the scent of sex on my breath. As soon as I saw her reach for the fly swatter, I ran out her house and haven't been back since. Kimbel, on the other hand, has enjoyed every moment of it. It's been a week and we've been making love almost every night since. I'm not going to lie. It hurt the first few times; but now, I just couldn't seem to get enough of him. So how come each time I'm left feeling like a sinner? We're having dinner at his parents' house and even now Kimbel was staring across the table at me, making me moist between my legs and feeling so dirty.
“Kimbel, your father has an announcement to make,” Mrs. King said, breaking into my guilty thoughts.
Kimbel looked from one to the other. His parents were obviously happy about something. “What is it, Pop?”
Mr. King used to be fine in his younger days. Even now he had a distinguished look that appealed even to a chick my age. He had wavy salt and pepper hair, a goatee, and light skin that was glowing right about now. “Next month, I will be opening another funeral home.” His chest stuck out with pride. Kimbel walked around to shake his hand, and I softly clapped mine and congratulated him.
King Funeral Homes was the largest black-owned memorial service in the city. The family-owned business currently had five locations and would now be opening a sixth. Mr. King's dream was that someday all three of his sons would join the funeral business. So far the oldest, Charles, managed two of the locations. Carlton was the youngest and was still away at college, but he had every intention of joining the family business. Kimbel was another story altogether.
Kimbel had gone to Northwestern and later to the NFL. Mr. King had hoped after his injury he would have returned home and joined the business. Instead, Kimbel had gotten a job as a recruiter. He knew his father was disappointed, which was why he worked most of his weekends at the funeral homes.
“That's wonderful!” I cried.
Mrs. King's eyes glistened with happy tears. “We are so excited. All we ever wanted was to provide for our sons and their families.”
I smiled. Unlike most mothers-in-law, I loved mine. She was the mother I wished I had.
Mr. King rose. “This calls for a celebration.” He left the dining room, then came back shortly, carrying a bottle of thirty-year-old wine. “I've been saving this for the right moment.” Glasses were handed out and the bottle passed around. And we all raised our glasses. “Here's to another successful business venture and to young love. In two weeks, I will be getting not only another funeral home but a beautiful daughter as well.”
I had tears in my eyes because they were all so good to me. I had a wonderful life ahead of me.
For the next couple of hours we sat and laughed and talked and started on a second bottle. I had never been much of a wine drinker, so I was beyond tipsy. When Mrs. King decided to pull out the baby pictures, I excused myself and went to the half bath down the hall.
“Ahhhhhh . . . that feels good.” Nothing felt better than going to the bathroom after holding it way too long. I looked down inside the stool and, just as I thought, my period had started. Luckily, I had thought to carry a tampon in my pocket. I flushed, washed my hands, and stared at my reflection. I didn't like at all what I saw. I looked sad. Almost disappointed at myself. I guess it was because after all those years of my mother instilling values in me, I had thrown it all away. I was so tired of feeling guilty. Two more weeks, I told myself. Two more weeks and I would officially be Mrs. Kimbel King.
There was a knock at the door. I opened it and Kimbel stepped in. “Hey, baby. What took you so long? I was missing you.” He wrapped his arms around me and leaned me back against the sink. When he pressed his lips to mine I opened my mouth and allowed his tongue entrance. “I'm ready to go home so I can make love to you.”
Oh, how I wished that was possible. I pulled him closer, loving the way my man felt. Kimbel was everything a woman needed. He was a gentleman, charming, and in the time we'd been together, he had proved he was committed to me.
“Baby, I can't wait. I gotta have you now,” he murmured.
“What! We can't. Your parents are down the hall. They will know.”
“No, they won't.” He unzipped his pants and whipped his dick out. “Come on, baby. Take your pants off.”
“I can't. I'm on the rag.”
He jumped back. Kimbel hated touching me when I was on my period. Said it made him feel dirty. Whenever it was my time of the month, he insisted that I wear a pair of shorts to bed. Just in case I had an accident, he didn't want it on his clothes or our sheets.
Kimbel was devastated by my news. “Dammit, now I gotta go back out there with a hard-on. Baby, you know this is all your fault, right? You shouldna been looking so good,” he replied, trying to make light of the situation, but I could tell by his eyes he was disappointed. I gave him a sympathetic smile and felt sorry for him. He was holding his penis in his hands. Kimbel was right. He was so hard the veins were popping out around the head. “I don't think I'm going to be able to get this back in my pants.” He looked worried, almost frightened. “Baby, please, you gotta . . .”
Hell no! I knew what he was asking. There was no way I could think about doing such a thing, yet he looked so miserable, and after all, it was partly my fault that my man found me irresistible.
“Tiffany, sweetheart, please. In two weeks you're going to be my wife, but I've gotta be honest . . . if you're not willing to please your husband in every way that he asks, then we're going to have problems. What happened to love, honor, and obey? I love eating you out, but my wife has to be willing do the same.”
I couldn't believe we were having this discussion at his parents' house. “Well . . . when I become your wife, we can talk about it then.”
“I think you're full of shit. I truly don't believe you're ever going to be willing to satisfy me properly. I'm so sure that . . . look . . . my dick got soft. Fuck!” He fixed his pants, then gave me a look that was like a cloud had gone up around him. I had never seen him like that and I didn't want to start now. His parents would know something was wrong between us and I wasn't having that. I needed my world to be perfect. Already, I had gone against everything I believed in and gave him my virginity before our wedding. What difference did it make now? I might as well give my fiancé what he wanted in order to keep him happy and to keep him from suddenly having second thoughts about marrying me. My mother would beat the black off me if he did.
I was still contemplating what to do next when Kimbel reached for the door and turned the knob. “Wait! Okay . . . okay . . . I'll do it.” I took a seat on the stool and urged him to come and stand in front of me. Smiling, he reached for the switch and turned on the exhaust fan, which was loud enough to muffle any noise coming from the room. I sure hoped so. The last thing I needed was for his parents to think their son was marrying a slut. I waited nervously while Kimbel unzipped his pants again. The second it sprung free, I noticed he was hard again. Staring down at it, I licked my lips.
“Come on, baby, you can do it. Just wrap your lips around it,” Kimbel urged, and placed his hand at the back of my head and pushed me forward. I parted my lips and he guided the tip inside my mouth. “Awww, baby. That's it,” he groaned.
I tried to pretend I was sucking on a Popsicle while he rocked his hips and pushed deeper and deeper down my throat. I gagged a few times, then controlled how deep I wanted him to go. Kimbel started moving faster and after a while I started to feel a little more confident about what I was doing. Just knowing it was my lips that were making him grunt and groan gave me a feeling of empowerment. It wasn't long before Kimbel was pumping hard enough to make my jaw hurt.
“That's it, baby. Oh, that feels sooooooo good. Ooooh!” he howled. Then the next thing I knew, Kimbel exploded in my mouth. I held my breath and waited until he stopped moving. There was no way I was swallowing. As soon as he pulled out, I moved over to the sink, spit, and rinsed out my mouth. That was one thing I would never acquire a taste for.
“Com'ere.” I turned around and Kimbel pressed his lips to mine. “Thank you. I now know there isn't anything you won't do for your man, and that means a lot to me.” Kimbel gave me a long, passionate kiss. “I love you, Tiffany. I can't wait to walk down the aisle and make you my wife.”
His words were exactly what I needed to hear, and for the first time all week I didn't feel dirty. I choked on a sob. “Thank you, baby. I needed to hear that.”
Kimbel cupped my face with his hands and looked down at me with a stern look as he spoke. “I don't care what your mother says about premarital sex, there's nothing wrong with a woman pleasing the man she's planning to marry.”
I simply nodded. If I kept telling myself that, then maybe before the night was over I just might start believing it.
17
Candace
“Thanks, Mama. I don't know what I would do without you.”
“You know there isn't anything I won't do for my granddaughter.”
Thank goodness I had Mama; otherwise, I don't know what I would do when I needed a babysitter. It was enough my mother watched Miasha for me during the day and while I took classes at Kennedy King College two evenings a week, but every now and then Sylvia wanted to flex her balls and make us work overtime.
Tonight, my supervisor waited until four o'clock to tell us she needed the support staff to stay after work to purge files. We had to box up all the patient records that were more than five years old so they could be sent to a national archives company for electronic processing. It wasn't our fault Sylvia waited until the last minute to get it done. Yet we had to bust our ass and stay late just because she wasn't doing her job. I hung up the phone, then slipped off my shoes and reached for the first box just as Gloria stepped into the room.
“You want me to order a pizza or something?”
I shrugged. She can be nice when she wants to be. “Sure, might as well if we gotta be here.”
She picked up the phone and ordered a large pepperoni pizza, then took a seat beside me. “Okay, I wasn't paying attention when Madame Witch explained. What are we supposed to do?”
She didn't hear because she was too busy flirting with one of our physician assistants. I reached for the list on my desk. “Here are the items that need to be purged from the files of every patient who hasn't been seen in the last five years and shredded. After we do that, we need to box up the records. They're being sent to a contract company to be scanned for electronic recordkeeping.”
Gloria gave a long sigh and already looked bored. “I guess this whole paperless processing is for the birds.”
“Yeah, I agree. It would have helped if we had been doing this regularly instead of waiting five years to rush and do it before the medical board comes to visit our clinic at the end of the month.” We each reached for a file and got busy. The sooner we got started, the sooner we could get out of here. We were almost done with A-C when I looked up to find Sylvia standing in the doorway. She had the nerve to have her purse on her arm and a briefcase in her hand.
“I'm getting out of here. Just remember we need those records ready to be shipped in the morning. Catch y'all later.”
“Bitch,” Gloria mumbled under her breath the second the door slammed. We took one look at each other and started laughing. “She making us do all the work while her ass is going home. What's up with that!”
“I know that's right.” Gloria could be cool when she wanted to be as long as you weren't trying to step on her toes. We worked on the files until they arrived with the pizza, then decided to take a ten-minute break.
Brenda peeked her head around the corner. “Ooh, is that pizza I smell?” she asked like she didn't see the box on the counter.
“Help yourself. Although I shouldn't let you have anything after trying to hook me up with your cousin,” I added with a playful roll of my eyes.
The LPN gave me an apologetic look. “I told you I'm sorry about that.” I'll give it to her. She'd been telling me sorry ever since I recapped my experience with him and his tart breath.
“Cousin? What cousin?” I should have known Gloria's man-crazy ass wasn't going to miss the opportunity to meet someone.
“Brenda tried to hook me up with her cousin.”
Her brow rose. “What's he look like?”
“Cute, single, and a medical student.”
I saw the dollar signs in her eyes. “Can a sistah get the hook up?”
“What happened to Pierre?” I asked between chews.
She cut her eyes in my direction. “He lost his job and I had to let that fool go. So can I have this dude's number or what?”
I was about to warn her about Deon looking for a woman to take care of him, not to mention his bad breath, but thought better of it. “Brenda, I think he and Gloria might be a match made in heaven.”
“I agree. I'll give you his number before we leave.” When she looked at me out the corner of her eyes, it took everything I had not to laugh. “I'm just about done getting patient records ready for clinic tomorrow. I don't mind staying after and helping you with the files,” she offered between bites.
She'd been working late a lot lately. “Don't you have a man at home waiting on you?”
She took a long, deep breath, shifting her body on the chair with agitation before speaking. “Puhleeze, I had to get rid of him. Too needy. There is nothing worse than a needy man.”
Gloria laughed. “I know that's right. I dated one for a while and all he talked about was I love you . . . I love you so much,” she mocked.
As I listened, I realized one thing I could say about Chauncey, there was nothing needy about him. He was confident, and that was one thing about him that attracted me most.
“What you smiling about?” Gloria asked.
“Nothing?”
She wasn't buying it. “Yes, it is. What, you got a new man in your life?”
“Yeah, I do.” I was grinning so hard my face hurt.
“Well, don't just sit there. Tell us all about him. Is he fine? Does he have a job?” Gloria had her skinny tail all up in my face, but for once I didn't mind. I had to tell someone. I gazed up at the ceiling thinking about the last forty-eight hours.
“He's all the above.” I took a deep breath. “Girrrrl, remember Shemar Moore in that Tyler Perry movie,
Diary of a Mad Black Woman
?”
Diary of a Mad Black Woman
?”
Gloria reached for a slice of pizza, then nodded. “Oh sure. When he had his hair braided?”
I nodded. “Well, that's how Chauncey looks, only better.”
Brenda's eyes got really wide. “Ooh! His name even sounds sexy.” Brenda was “oohing” and “aahing,” but Gloria had gotten quiet and I could tell she was jealous.
She shucked pizza from between her teeth. “Shemar Moore ain't all that. I thought you were going to say Jamie Foxx or somebody.” She was hating.
“Oh, but my man is. There ain't nothing soft and pretty about him. He's all man, and he knows how to work a sistah!”
Brenda sat there shaking her head. “Damn, you are so lucky. All I seem to find is someone else's leftovers.”
I saw Gloria looking at me out the corner of her eyes before she got up to turn on the CD player. She hated that I had found someone. If she'd stop sleeping with every man she met on the first date, maybe they would respect her enough to call her again.
“What's Deon look like?” she asked, changing the subject.
I shrugged. “He's actually cute. He's a black Dr. McDreamy.”
The smile returned to her lips.“Gorgeous and educated . . . I can't wait to meet him. Brenda you really should call him for me and get that hooked up.”
“Okay.”
Gloria reached for her cell phone from her back pocket and dialed his number. The entire time she was talking to him, I couldn't helping remembering how funky his breath was and lost my appetite.
I reached for another file and realized it had been misfiled in the E's. I started to stick it with the other K's when I noticed the name on the file folder and almost peed myself.
Kimbel King.
I quickly thumbed through the record, making sure it was the same Kimbel King who was engaged to my best friend, Tiffany. What I saw made me wanna dash to the phone and call her. Unfortunately, we had rules about privacy acts and patient confidentiality, and as much as I wanted to tell Tiffany, there was nothing I could do but toss his file in the box and reach for another. But as the evening progressed, I kept wondering if maybe she already knew and just hadn't told me. It really wasn't my business if he had. Maybe she loved him enough that it didn't matter. But at the same time, what if she didn't know? While Gloria worked on getting herself a date for the weekend, I finished the E's and tried to think of a way to ask Tiffany without her knowing that I already knew. She was my best friend, and there was no way I could just ignore something this vital. Tiffany was getting married in two weeks and could possibly be making the biggest mistake of her life.
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