If I Can't Have You, page 21
part #1 of If I Can't Have You Series
My body tensed from the neck up. A gun would be nice right now. “Let it go. Madison never wanted you. It was a bet that everyone lost. Madison is happy and she’s engaged to marry the most eligible bachelor in Houston.”
“I lost my fucking job over a bet? You two have fucked with the wrong man.” He wiped his wet nose and upper lip. “Oh.” His forehead wrinkled. His eyebrows drew closer together, almost touching. “Hmm. She was serious about that dude? I thought she was kidding. When is the wedding?” he asked, acting as if he were invited.
“Please leave before I call the police.”
“You need to convince Madison to give me back my job. If I can’t find work, I’ll move in with you until I do,” he said, shoving his thumbs inside his belt.
Glancing around Granville’s shoulder, I saw Raynard cruising into my driveway. He parked behind Granville’s ridiculously humongous truck.
“You might want to leave before there’s trouble.”
“An eye for an eye. I’ll beat his ass. I’m not afraid of him. You think I won’t.” Granville tightened his fingers into a fist and walked toward Raynard.
I held my breath. “Lord, please help me.” A fight would be all Raynard needed to prove why he should have full custody. Chaz parked behind Raynard’s car.
I went inside, closed and then locked my door. I leaned my back against the wall and prayed again, Lord, I need you now. I heard one car start. Hopefully, that was Granville driving off. I couldn’t tell the difference between the sound of the truck and the SUV.
Another engine roared, and then a third purred like a kitten. My heart pounded. I leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, covered my face and cried.
The doorbell rang. I dried my tears, held my breath, counted to three. Opening the door, I wanted to smile because I was happy to see him, but this wasn’t a joyful moment.
“You’ve got a lot going on,” Chaz said, walking in. “You look nice.”
“Thanks, but I can’t go. Raynard was supposed to take Raynell. Guess he changed his mind when he saw you.” Fearing Granville was near, I scanned Madison’s driveway. Her car was there; his wasn’t.
Chaz went to my wet bar and poured himself a drink. “What’s up with the guy with the truck? Maybe Madison isn’t the one my family should be concerned about.” He handed me a cocktail, then said, “Have a seat.” He was behaving as though I was a guest in my own home.
We sat on the stools next to one another at my bar. “It’s not as complicated as it appears. Bad timing more than anything.”
“I can see you’re dealing with family matters. I don’t want to come between you and Raynard or Raynell. But if you’re still dealing with that other dude, you need to let me know. Why don’t you get your purse, take Raynell to Tisha’s, and you can tell me over enchiladas at Escalante’s what’s really going on. Or we can skip the date and you can let me make love to you. You decide.”
Picking up my drink, I didn’t hesitate to lead the way upstairs. Chaz was right behind me. Raynell stepped out of her room.
Her face lit up. “Chaz!” She gave him a big hug, then let go. “You came to take my mommy away from me again today?”
His eyes shifted to mine. I hunched my shoulders. He picked up Raynell. I was uncomfortable, but I didn’t say anything. I’d shielded my daughter from the men I’d dated. I didn’t want her getting attached to a man who might not be around.
“I like your mom. I’d never take her away from you.”
“So you like me too?”
I had to interrupt. “Raynell, that’s enough.”
Chaz smiled. “What do you say, if your mother agrees, we go to the movies. The three of us. And you get to choose what we see,” he said, putting her down.
“Yes! The Dr. Seuss movie! Mommy, can we go? Please,” Raynell pleaded.
“Go change your clothes.”
“That’s a yes?”
“That’s a yes,” I confirmed. When she closed her door, I looked at Chaz. “I sure hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
He backed me into my bedroom and pressed his lips to mine. He opened his mouth; I did the same. Our tongues danced in and out of each other’s wetness. He squeezed my breast; then he held my face in his strong hands.
“Do you want me to be in your and Raynell’s life?”
Staring into his eyes, I was speechless.
CHAPTER 32
Madison
A month had gone by since I’d been diagnosed. If my mother hadn’t insisted, it would’ve been over another month before my next appointment.
“Explain it to me again. This time like I’m a third grader,” I said, sitting in the doctor’s office with my mother.
The doctor began speaking and my ears became antennas as my mother held my hand. I rubbed my thigh.
“You’re pregnant. Approximately four weeks,” she said. “That means, in about eight months you’ll have a baby.”
The room was freezing, I think. My fingers felt like ice, but my mom’s hand was warm. I held on more tightly, trying to draw in her heat. I stared into the doctor’s mouth, as if that would make what was coming out clearer.
“Maybe. Maybe not. I can control whether I’m ready to have a child. Tell me about my breasts.”
Maybe Dad’s idea of going away wasn’t so bad. If all went well, I could lie to Roosevelt and tell him the implants were my gift to him.
“You have cancer, Madison. In both breasts.”
I hated hearing her tell me that. My mother leaned my head on her shoulder. I sat up straight. “Ma, don’t. I have to deal with this.” I whispered, “Okay, Doctor. What else?”
“You have stage two, level B. That means it may not be contained and it can potentially spread to other parts of your body. Cancer is treatable. The sooner we operate, the better your chances for survival.”
Boom, boom, boom. Survival, survival, survival . . . echoed in my mind. I grabbed the sides of my head. Tears filled my eyes.
Holding on to my mother, I asked, “Ma, what stage and level were you?”
“I was stage one, level A.”
“They caught your mother’s earlier than we diagnosed yours. But it was a good thing you came in,” the doctor said, “or we may not have known until it was too late.”
Stage one? Level A. “Then why did you have to have a mastectomy, Ma?”
“I didn’t have to. I wanted to. I didn’t want to have a second or possibly a third surgery.”
“Did you do chemo?” I asked her.
“I did radiation and chemo, sweetheart. My cancer is gone. I—”
I yelled, “This doesn’t make any sense!” I paced the small area between my mother and the doctor.
The doctor said, “I agree. But no matter how senseless it is, it’s real. I’m going to set up the next appointments for you. First your MRI, then we’ll meet with a surgeon, medical oncologist, and a radiation oncologist. We’ll explain in detail what will be done before, during, and after your surgery.”
I hated hearing her say “your surgery.” The word “your” made it personal. “The” would’ve been better. I guess it was my turn to be Chicken Little. My sky was falling.
I’m going to die. I know it.
“You can do like I did, honey, and have your breasts removed.”
“No, Ma. For you, it was breast, singular. For me, it’s breasts, with an s. There’s a difference.”
“There are great post-op reconstructive options for you, Madison, that your mother didn’t have.”
I sat on the edge of my seat. “Don’t you mean post-op reconstructive surgeries? More surgeries. Exactly how many surgeries are we talking about here?” My eyes watered; mucus rolled out of my nose.
The doctor gave me a box of tissues. I took one and handed the box to my mother. I felt I’d need many more before we were done.
“We can start with a lumpectomy. But if we don’t get it all the first time, you’ll have to have a second surgery. And there’s a possibility your margins may still not be clear. If we have to do a third, I’d recommend you have a double mastectomy.”
She said that like a bartender suggesting a double, which was exactly what I needed right now—a strong drink.
“Why did this happen to me? Why?” I grabbed my breasts and pressed them close to my body. I wanted to reach inside my purse and take all the painkillers I had left. “Can you prescribe Tylenol 4 with codeine for me?”
The doctor didn’t hesitate. “No. I don’t recommend you take anything with codeine while you’re pregnant.”
What was her problem? It was so easy to have doctors write prescriptions that I was shocked to hear her answer. “If I have the surgeries, you’ll have to give me something for pain before, during, and after the surgery. So why can’t you give me something now?”
“Are you experiencing rectal discomfort?”
I yelled, “Yes, my ass and my head hurt.”
“Fine, Madison. I’ll call in an order for thirty Tylenol 3, not 4. Do not take more than what’s prescribed.”
Frowning, my mother asked, “What’s this about your rectal discomfort, Madison? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“It’s nothing, Ma. I’ll tell you later.”
The Tylenol 3 would do for now. I’d have to take four 30 milligrams instead of two 60s. I’d call my family doctor and ask him to phone in an order for what I wanted. If that didn’t work, I could ask Loretta to supply my needs.
“So when are you available for your next appointment? There’s an opening in two days.”
My mother raised her blouse, unfastened her bra, and removed a cushion-shaped cup. “Madison, look at my breast.”
My stomach churned so tightly that I bent over. I heaved but didn’t throw up. “Ma, cover up. This is not the time.”
What in the hell was she thinking? She hadn’t shown me it during all these years. I did not want or need to see a scar where her titty once was.
“Two days is too soon. How about six weeks from now? I want to get married first.”
“Does your husband know?”
Was the doctor a counselor now? That wasn’t her business.
“Let me deal with my family. The wedding will take place next month. I’ll come in after my honeymoon.”
“It’s your decision, but it’s not a good one.” The doctor searched her computer. “I have an opening exactly six weeks from today.”
“I’ll take that,” I said to get her off my back. “Send me a reminder. Ma, let’s go.”
My mom walked; I marched, stomping each step to the garage. I escorted my mother to her car. I knew what she was thinking, but I was glad she didn’t pressure me to have the surgery sooner.
We hugged for about three minutes. In that moment I’d decided to have an abortion after my honeymoon and before my surgery. There was no way I could mentally manage both or take a chance on having Granville’s baby.
“I love you, Ma. I’ll call you later,” I said, closing her door.
I got in my red convertible and let the top down. That song by Martina McBride came on again. Bad timing. I didn’t want to be more depressed, if that were possible.
I had to cheer up. Driving on Interstate 610, I was headed to meet with my wedding planner. Suddenly I was blinded. My vision was impaired. I could hardly see the road ahead through my flooding tears.
“Why me?” I cried out, exiting the freeway as Martina sang. I yelled at the tune blaring through my radio, “Shut up! I’m thirty-five and I don’t want to wear baggy shirts or have fake breasts!” I parked at a meter on Westheimer. Every tear in my body was in line waiting its turn to fall into my lap.
Leaning on the steering wheel, I cried out, “Why me?”
I lowered my visor. Stared at my face in the mirror. My flawless skin was amazingly beautiful. So gorgeous. One day I was queen of everything. I touched my cheeks. “Who’s going to love me after all this is done?” I punched the visor to the roof.
Maybe I should call off the wedding, give back the ring, and focus on my health. My cell phone chimed. A text message registered from Roosevelt: Meet me at the news station in an hour. They want to officially announce our engagement.
CHAPTER 33
Granville
Sitting in my living room all day waiting for Madison to come home made me hate that bitch. I wish she would’ve never found the GPS I put on her phone. Maybe I could strap a tracking device on her car. I was going crazy not knowing where she was every minute of my day.
“Bitches,” I yelled, then punched the air in front of my face. I wasn’t angry enough to slam my laptop, throw my iPhone, or knock over a bottle of beer. That would be a waste of my money.
I valued my mama’s opinion. She was right. What was wrong with women these days? Loretta’s ass would rather be alone than to have me as her man. For all I knew, she could’ve been cheating on me the entire time we were together. I’d seen the same dude at her place twice. He was probably an ex she’d never stopped opening her legs for. So what if he fucked her? I’d torn that pussy up too.
Loretta didn’t know how to treat a good man like me. Madison used me for my dick. She already had a man she was engaged to when she fucked me? What kind of game or train were they trying to run on me? Had I heard her right? They had a bet. What kind? Wasn’t I supposed to be the prize?
Loretta probably told Madison, “Girl, he’s got a ri-dick-ulous dick. You’ve got to ride that bull.”
Whores! All women were whores! The scandalous tricks didn’t care about sharing good dicks like mine. I was a piece of meat to them. Had them laughing and swapping stories about how I grabbed my dick and put this on ’em.
That sending me to a sex therapist shit was Loretta’s way of breaking me down. Making me believe something was wrong with my shit, when it was her stank-ass cunt that was bad. She couldn’t make me cum. It wasn’t the other way around. Madison came. She used me too. A bet? I’ma fix both of them.
Maybe I was being inconsiderate. Perhaps Madison was still in pain, but I was the one heartbroken. My chest was fucked up with a tattoo I wasn’t proud of. I grabbed beer number six from the fridge and sat on the sofa and stared at my computer.
A woody appeared from nowhere and stood tall through the opening in my boxers. I wasn’t thinking about cumming, but I hadn’t had sex since my night with Madison. Why was I being faithful to her, when she was with another man? How long was I supposed to wait?
The reporter announced that the mayor was up next on the five o’clock news. My dick got harder. I had to do something before it drained too much blood from my body.
I checked my address book.
Nah, Lisa isn’t answering my calls. Brenda, Tammy, Rolanda, and Kim have protective orders against me.
I got to the P’s and stopped at Precious. She’d given me her number at Grooves. I decided to hit her up.
I was glad she’d answered.
“Hello?”
I cleared my throat. “Hey, Precious. This is your secret admirer. I’m your lover man.” Silently I laughed. I cracked myself up.
Sounded like the call dropped, but I didn’t here that interrupted tone. Checking my screen, we weren’t connected. I dialed her back.
“Who is this?” she asked without saying “Hello.”
“Did you hang up on me?”
“You’ve got two seconds before I do it again.”
What was up with the attitude? That’s why females were single. She didn’t have to hang up on me. If my dick wasn’t about to explode, I’d hang up on that bitch.
“It’s Granville, Precious. We met at Grooves. I gave”—I wanted to say “your stank ass,” but didn’t—“you a ride home. You gave me your number.”
“And you’re just now calling me? That was a month ago. You must be scrolling through your numbers to see who’s willing to kick it with you!”
“Uh, no. Women hit on me all the time. I wanted to call you sooner, but my mother wasn’t feeling well.” That was more truth than a lie because Moms was always claiming she wasn’t doing well. Thinking of her, I needed to visit my mother soon. I hadn’t gone to Port Arthur since I’d been fired.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is she better?” Precious asked.
She seemed caring. Maybe Precious was the woman for me. There had to be one out there, somewhere.
“Would you like to go with me to visit her this weekend?”
“That’s weird,” she said.
“Why?” (I wanted to say, “Why, bitch? Because a man can’t invite you to meet his mother before he fucks you?”) Instead, I told her, “You don’t care about my mother.”
“No. I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t know her and I don’t know you. Not really.”
“Well, let’s work on changing that. I’ll order pizza. I already have beer. You can come over and we can watch a movie and get to know one another. If things go well, I’ll take you to Port Arthur this weekend. You got a ride here?”
“I do,” she said. “I’ll get my girlfriend to drop me off, but you’ll have to bring me back.”
“I can do that,” I said, although I didn’t want to. If I’d told her “no,” I’d have to find somebody else, and I didn’t feel like doing that since she was willing.
It didn’t matter if she was coming out of curiosity or if she had nothing better to do. I gave her my address. When she got here, I was busting a few nuts inside her before she left. Once she saw my big dick, like all the rest, she’d be dick-no-tized. She wouldn’t be able to resist.
We exchanged small talk for a few more minutes; then I said, “Text me when you’re on your way.” Most women weren’t as up righteous as they pretended to be. If men didn’t label women as whores, they’d be worse than us.
The mayor was just coming on. I’d applied online for a few jobs with the city. “Gimme some good news,” I said, clapping and then rubbing my hands together.
I’d learned a lot about technology by mistake playing on my laptop while unemployed. Setting up a Facebook and Twitter page was a disappointment. I hadn’t accepted any friends or followers. My only requests were for Madison to be my friend and let me follow her. All those girls who sent me requests didn’t mean anything to me. I was old-fashioned and preferred meeting women in person. My satellite viewer was in a small window at the bottom of my screen so I could keep an eye on my woman whenever she got home.
