Sweeter Than Honey (24 page)

S
ummer was Sunny.

Sitting in the front pew next to Summer, I knew that Sunny’s body was inside the white coffin but her spirit resonated throughout the church. Glancing over my shoulder I saw there was standing room only. I wondered how many people would pay their respects when I died. Would I end up like Honey with my body lying in a funeral home instead of at the altar? Would a preacher, a friend, or a stranger read my eulogy?

Summer grasped my hand, interlocking her fingers between mine. How was it that a family who had every reason to hate me loved me and my family who had no reason to hate me disowned me?

Before leaving Flagstaff, I tried to keep my promise to Honey. After Honey’s funeral, I asked that my nephew, Jean, be left in my custody.

The words Rita had spoken to me left me speechless. “Your sorry-ass father is raising him.”

Frowning, I’d questioned Rita, “You mean my biological father?”

“Yeah, the one you saw earlier. I know y’all thought I was lying about y’all’s daddy, but he didn’t want the two of you or me,” Rita had said with sadness.

I wasn’t sure if Rita was sad because Honey was dead, sad because my father didn’t love her after she’d given birth to two of his children, or both. I couldn’t make sense of whether Rita was lying about my dad raising my nephew or my father really didn’t want to meet me or she didn’t want me to take my nephew, but I had to move on. Never again would I return to Flagstaff under any circumstances.

The real reason I allowed my thoughts to roam so much was that I didn’t want to cry at Sunny’s funeral. There’d be no sniffles. If I broke down in tears, someone would have to pick me up off the floor and carry me out along with Sunny. I felt responsible for Sunny’s death. If I hadn’t hired her, she’d be alive.

I was so glad when Sunny’s funeral was over. Never in my life had I seen so many prostitutes in one place. I think Sunny’s death made a lot of prostitutes think about changing their ways before it was too late.

Sapphire held my other hand and said, “It’s time for you to gather your girls and come with me.”

When I’d told Sapphire about the airline tickets I’d bought to get my ladies out of Las Vegas, surprisingly Sapphire commended me. Sucking in air, I couldn’t exhale, wondering what Sapphire’s intentions were.

“Relax.” She smiled. “It’s good news.”

I hugged the Day family good-bye, signaled for my girls, and met Sapphire at a nearby casino in a private suite.

Grasping my hand, Sapphire said, “Lace, let me speak to you in private.”

Walking into the adjoining bedroom, I sat on the bed next to Sapphire and waited for her to speak.

“Here, I want you to take this cashier’s check and do something good. Take those airline tickets, get out of Las Vegas, and take all of those ladies in the next room with you.”

Ladies. Not bitches, not whores, not prostitutes, not call girls, and never again escorts. Ladies. I blinked in disbelief, staring at the dollar amount on the cashier’s check.

“Don’t ask where it came from. Just know that you deserve it. And promise me you’ll pay it forward,” Sapphire said.

“Come with me,” I said. “We can all get out of Sin City together.”

Sapphire laughed. “Were you at the same church I was at?” Then she became serious. “Maybe when I retire, but right now I’m needed in Las Vegas.”

“Well, just remember my house is your home anytime. No questions asked.”

Sapphire stood, waved, and was gone like the wind as she disappeared out of the side door.

Sapphire’s suggestion that I take my ladies reinforced that I’d done the right thing. Reaching into my purse, I pulled out one-way airline tickets for each of my ladies. “I’m leaving. Whoever wants a job can join me. A real job with wonderful benefits. There will be no more selling pussy or sucking dicks to make a living.”

Onyx asked, “Then what exactly will we do if we follow you to—” She read her ticket, then said, “Atlanta, Georgia.”

“Your first responsibility is to get yourselves together mentally, physically, and spiritually. Then your job will become to help other women get their lives in order.”

Starlet spoke up, “So we can make the same amount of money that we made every night having sex?”

“No, definitely not. Don’t be ridiculous. Working for me, you can make even more money. But you’ve got to earn it.”

All of the ladies started mumbling.

Girl number two asked, “You think she’s serious?”

Three replied, “I hope so, but I don’t know if we can trust her.”

I wasn’t trying to convince any of them. What I was offering was an opportunity for each of them start over. “I’ve got a plane to catch. Y’all have my number.”

Strutting out of the casino with a full heart and a fat wallet, I clicked my stilettos and yelled, “Yes!”

P
rostitution wasn’t a job. Prostitution was a lifestyle. On the inside I was scared. I knew in my heart what I was doing was right, but what if I failed these ladies? Was I crazy asking them to leave their families, friends, environment, homes, and in Onyx’s case, her husband? What if I couldn’t deliver them from the land of easy money? Well, with a fifty-million-dollar cashier’s check in my purse, I couldn’t say I couldn’t afford to.

“Good afternoon,” the flight attendant said as I boarded my flight to Atlanta.

From this day forward, when any woman greeted me I’d smile. My lips parted, then curved as I replied, “Good afternoon,” before taking my seat in first class.

Reflecting on things that had happened over the last year made me wanna laugh, cry, and scream out loud.

“Would you like something to drink?” the attendant asked.

“Yes, champagne, please.” It was a little too early for hard liquor, but once I settled in my hotel room in Atlanta I was definitely having a real drink.

Sipping from the plastic flute, I chuckled, wondering where was Benito. I could only imagine what Sapphire had done to him, but oddly she hadn’t mentioned him in any of our conversations.

No, I realized Benito was never the man for me. His insecurities and jealousies were destined to break us up. A man who was envious of his woman was a dangerous man. Maybe now Benito would get his life together, get a job, and not live off some other woman.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice resounded.

Looking up, I instantly batted my eyes and smiled. “Certainly.”

The fine-ass man who’d just sat next to me made my pussy pucker when he said, “Oh my. You are strikingly beautiful. Are those your natural color eyes?”

Was I blushing? When was the last time I’d taken notice of a man? Had sex with a man? Valentino’s face popped into view and I immediately shoved him out of mind, knowing that if Atlanta was this handsome man’s final destination, my next orgasms were a few hours away.

I focused on his tailor-made suit and shirt, platinum cuff links without diamonds, immaculate shoes, his large fingers with manicured nails, and big feet. His face was smooth and his teeth appeared whiter than his skin when he smiled and asked, “Where’re you headed?”

“I’m relocating to Atlanta.”

He nodded as if giving me an approval I didn’t need. “You have plans for dinner tonight?”

I do now.
Casually I said, “I’ll have to check my schedule. I’m supposed to meet with a Realtor to discuss representation. You have a number where I can reach you?”

He smiled again, then said, “We’ll get to that in a moment. I want to continue our conversation. So, tell me, what do you do for a living?”

Okay, casually offering to take me to dinner, not readily giving me his number or his card, what was this man interested in? Shit! I hadn’t expected to answer that question so soon. Confidently I answered, “I own a consulting firm.”

“What’s the name?”

“Sweeter than Honey” rolled off my tongue like sugar.

For the first time, I dreamt aloud, sharing all the wonderful ways my new company would help women. Our flight arrived in Atlanta and he still hadn’t given me his number.

“So, where’re you staying?” he asked.

“Downtown, and you?”

“I own a place in Buckhead. Here’s my card. Let me know if you’re available for dinner. I can have my driver pick you up. Nice talking with you.” He paused, extending his hand.

I smiled, then read, “Real estate developer, huh? You should’ve told me earlier.”

Shaking his head, he said, “I never mix business with pleasure.”

Squeezing his hand, I said, “I’m Honey. Honey Thomas,” realizing out of all the information we’d exchanged I hadn’t told him my name.

His cheeks rose high and I saw the most amazing smile in his eyes. “I think you need to change the name of your business. Nothing can be sweeter than Honey. I’m Grant. Grant Hill.”

Well, I knew that from the card, but what I couldn’t determine was if he was black, white, or Italian, and I didn’t care. All I knew was I was getting some dick tonight and I was going to love living in Atlanta.

Lace as Honey

K
eep your friends close and your enemies closer. Some will say, “I ain’t mad at her.” Others will mumble, “She did what she had to.” And some would swear, “She should rot in jail. Nah, girl, forget jail, she should burn in hell for what she’s done.”

But if one were to ask me, I’d respond, “I was tired of men abusing women.”

I also realized I couldn’t help women who didn’t want help. The ones who’d go back to their abusive lovers could stay. And while that may have seemed cold, truth was there were too many women who seriously wanted to get out of life-threatening situations. Those were the ones I’d commit to.

There was a better way to prove my position than killing every man who abused women, but if a man didn’t have any respect for women knowing he came from a woman, then I believed he was better off dead.

After dinner I’d spent every night for two weeks in Buckhead giving and getting head while pussy-whupping and getting to know Grant. Good pussy did strange things to men. Actually I enjoyed being around Grant. He was polite, handsome, and he had his own businesses, one in Atlanta, the other in D.C.

In between spending time with Grant, he helped me find a mansion in Buckhead with fourteen bedrooms and just as many baths. All of my ladies came to me except girl six, but she had an open ticket and she always had a choice.

Onyx and Starlet became my top assistants and all the ladies worked diligently on putting together our business plan. I wanted them to trust me the way I was learning to trust Grant, so I gave each of my ladies equal profit shares in Sweeter than Honey.

Grant was different from Benito. He laughed, cracked jokes, spoke intelligently on any subject. He wasn’t too proud to admit when he didn’t know something or object to me teaching him things sexually. Grant opened doors, bought gifts, flowers, made plans, and paid for dinner. He was ready to settle down, get married, and have two kids. Grant offered all the things I’d dreamt about but never thought I would have. Once upon a time, I didn’t believe I deserved to be loved. Grant was proving me wrong.

Good pussy did strange things to men. I couldn’t believe that after I’d known Grant for only two weeks, he invited me to meet his mother. At my age of thirty, that was the first time any man had asked me to meet his mother, so of course I happily said yes.

When we arrived at his parents’ home in Washington, D.C., I almost died when Grant said, “This is my mother, Sarah, my father, Grant, and my brother, Benito Bannister.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Hill,” I said, staring at Benito.

“So this is why you left me, Lace!” Benito yelled.

Aw, damn. I didn’t know what the fuck to do. Everyone was staring at me, including Grant.

“Who’s Lace? Do you know Benito?” Grant asked.

Benito moved closer. The old Lace wanted to punch Benito in the face and shoot him in the ass for real.

“Know me? Man, that’s the bitch that stuck a gun up my ass. Left me for dead and killed Reynolds.”

“Grant, get her out of my house,” Mrs. Hill said.

“Don’t trust her, bro. And don’t ever let that hooker bitch ride your dick like she’s in a rodeo,” Benito yelled.

“Benito, that’s enough. Shut up!” Mr. Hill yelled, then calmly said, “Grant, you heard your mother.”

Grant angrily escorted me to his car. Standing in the driveway, I was shocked when tears filled Grant’s sad brown eyes. I expected him to yell, stomp, hit me, curse me, but he didn’t. All he asked was, “Why me?”

“I’m so sorry,” was all I could say.

Here I was with the man I wanted to marry, have his babies, and make him happy, and it was gone in an instant.

“Every time I trust a black woman,” Grant began to cry, “I get hurt. It’s my fault, not yours. Black women say they want a good man but y’all don’t. You even lied to me about your name. Why?”

“I—”

“Don’t answer that. Nothing you can say will ever make me trust you again.”

Grant pressed two buttons on his red cell phone and said, “I need you to pick up Honey, Lace, whatever the hell her name is, from my parents’ house. Now!”

My entire body tensed. I didn’t know what to say, so I began crying. Grant didn’t hold me. He wouldn’t touch me. Turning his back, he didn’t want to look at me. I guess I deserved that. Who was I fooling thinking I could get married, have a husband and a family? My own mother didn’t want me. When the limousine parked in front of the house, Grant walked to his parents’ front door.

All I said before leaving was the truth. “Grant Hill, I love you.”

Once again in my deepest moment of needing to be loved,
Slam!
Another door was shut in my face.