Sample Chapter - Chapter 1
Regina cruised the four-door, champagne-colored Maxima into the driveway
of theirvanilla-colored, two-story, home and got tickled. The mere sight
of Wesleyan Estates sent ice-cold chills through her entire body. Perfectly
landscaped lawns, a nearby golf course, gorgeous homes occupied by wealthy
residents. She'd been blessed. Blessed at the age of thirty with what
most black people were never able to reap throughout an entire lifetime.
And it had all transpired in such perfect order too, one splendid event
right after another. Graduating from U of I with no preposterous student
loan balances to repay, marrying a well-educated, highly paid, gorgeous-looking,
black man named Larry, and then purchasing this immaculate home, located
in a ninety-nine percent white, upper echelon subdivision. Simply put,
they had it all. They'd obtained the American dream without even realizing
it.
She crept past Larry's pearl-white Lexus, parked next to the Cherokee
inside the two-car garage, and frowned when she realized the door had
been left wide open. She'd fussed at Larry no less than a thousand times
for not closing that garage door, and still, he didn't seem to be paying
her the slightest bit of attention. Just didn't seem to be worried, since
they lived in this ritzy neighborhood. But then, he'd have a totally different
attitude, once all of those expensive yard toys of his came up missing.
That high-tech electric edger, top of the line snow thrower, and brand
new, mulching lawn mower. It was so strange how men always had to learn
everything the hard way. Just couldn't tell them anything.
She removed the key from the ignition, stepped out of the car, forced
the door shut, pressed the garage door control on the wall, and walked
through the door leading to the hunter green, country-style kitchen and
closed it. She spotted today's mail stacked on the wooden, tiled-top table
where Larry had left it and picked it up. Bills, bills, bills. Not a day
seemed to pass by without one showing up. Nordstrom, Saks, Visa, Discover.
She may as well have listed them as joint owners on her checking account
with all the checks that were written out to each of them every month,
she thought, tossing each of them back onto the table one by one. But
at the bottom of the pile was an elegant picture of Oprah Winfrey displayed
across the cover of Essence magazine. It was their twenty-fifth anniversary
issue, and it appeared to be pretty interesting. She'd definitely have
to make sure and find time to read this before the weekend was over.
As she climbed the winding stairway and entered the upstairs hallway,
she heard the shower running. It was a bit early to be getting ready for
a nine o'clock show, the one she and Larry usually took in every Friday
night, but maybe he'd decided to take her to a real restaurant for a change
and not one of those non-tasting fast food places. She was sick of eating
generic seafood every Friday night. The Boston Sea Party was far more
to her liking, and that's where she prayed they were going.
Regina walked into the master bedroom, kicked off the Nine West, navy
blue pumps, slipped out of the wool crepe, navy blue suit and carefully
removed her pantyhose by Christian Dior. She'd torn a gigantic run in
the ones she'd worn yesterday before the clock in her office had barely
struck noon, and was planning to get at least one or two more wears out
of this pair before having to simply pitch them in the wastebasket. She'd
known for a long time that these things were way too expensive, but as
far as she was concerned, the ones they sold in some of those discount
stores never seemed to cut it.
She heard the water tapering off and the shower door slide open. "Hey,
hon," Regina said walking into the bathroom, shedding her underwear. "How
was your day?"
Larry stepped out of the shower, sawing his back with a burgundy, velvet
bath towel.
"It was okay. How was yours?"
Regina leaned over and pecked him on the lips. "It was a typical Friday,
but I'm glad the weekend has finally gotten here. It was a long week."
Larry finished drying himself off, moved in front of the double mirror,
picked up his blue, plastic razor and began edging his mustache. "I know
what you mean. It was a long week for me as well. I don't know when I've
had so many meetings and so many insurance claims to review. Oh, by the
way, Ted and I are going out to his boss' house again to play poker. Shouldn't
be gone too late though. I hope you don't mind."
Where did that shit come from? He hadn't mentioned going anywhere when
she'd spoken with him at work. She assumed this Friday evening would be
no different than any other. They would go to dinner, see a movie, and
make love like two wild animals when they returned home. He had gone to
play cards each of the two previous Fridays, but this once every week
thing was a little more than she was willing to put up with, and it was
starting to piss her off.
Regina placed her right hand on her hip, the way black women do when
they intend to get their point across. "And what am I supposed to do sitting
here all by myself on a Friday evening? This is the third week in a row.
Here I am thinking you're about to take me out to a nice restaurant, and
you're in here getting ready to hang out with Ted. We haven't gone anywhere
together in two weeks, and I'm getting sick of this."
"We can go to the movies tomorrow. Right?"
"Do I have a choice? It sounds to me like you've already made your plans
for the evening anyway," she said staring straight at him. Larry rinsed
off the razor and then his face. "Look, Regina. Ever since we started
dating three years ago, I've pretty much spent every single Friday evening
with you, so why is it such a crime for me to go play cards one night
a week? I don't see why you're making such a big deal out of this."
Regina was puzzled, but had to admit that he was right. At least for
the most part, because he had pretty much spent every Friday night with
her since the day they'd gotten married. The only problem was, she didn't
see anything wrong with it continuing. They were married, and that's what
married people did. Spend time together. Not go their separate ways like
two single individuals with no ties to each other. If he wanted to hang
out with his unmarried friends and play the little bachelor role, then
he should have never asked her to marry him. He'd had no problem with
spending all of his time with her before, and she couldn't help but wonder
what was going on now. Come to think of it, he'd been canceling their
lunch dates as well, claiming he had too much work to do and then working
an unusual amount of overtime in the evenings and on the weekends. Maybe
he was starting to feel caught up. Maybe he needed his freedom to do whatever
he wanted. Maybe he longed to be with someone else. They'd only been married
two years, but hell, he was acting like he already had the seven-year
itch and needed a nice, long scratch. Hmmph. Right now, she felt like
giving it to him.
But, Regina knew her imagination was working overtime, because with the
exception of Larry lying his clothes around and leaving them for her to
pick up, he was a good husband and a wonderful provider. She told herself
he was only playing cards, and probably just wanted to do that male bonding
thing that most men claimed they needed to do. Her secretary's husband
hooked up with his friends every Thursday for what he called a "guys night
out", so what was wrong with Larry wanting to go out every now and then
with Ted? The answer was obvious: Absolutely nothing. She didn't know
why she was being so silly.
"I don't see anything wrong with you going out every now and then, but
it's just that I've sat at home alone for two Friday nights straight,
and I'm really disappointed. I just wish you had told me earlier, so I
wouldn't have gotten my heart set on spending some time with you."
"We'll do something tomorrow. I promise." He dried his face and then
kissed her on the forehead as he walked out of the bathroom.
Regina presented him with a bogus smile, stepped into the shower and
turned it on. The soothing, hot water running across her body felt so
relaxing that she stood there for five whole minutes with no display of
movement. She wished it would never end, but could already feel the water
slowly starting to cool down. There was only so much hot water available
when she and Larry took long, steamy showers, one right after the other.
Regina shut off the water, and reached for her coral pink bath towel.
She walked out into the bedroom, dried most of her body off, and saw Larry
putting on his dark olive dress pants and silk, Claiborne sweater. Clothing
that was perfect for springtime weather, but inappropriate and too dressy
if all he was going to do was play poker. Still though, as much as she
hated to admit it, he was looking especially fine tonight. But then why
shouldn't he? Whether it was a business suit for work or a pair of jeans
for running around on the weekend, she always bought him the very best
that their hard-earned money could buy. This man's wardrobe had been a
complete mess when they'd first gotten together, and it was obvious that
he'd barely even heard of Marshall Fields, Saks, or Nordstrom's, let alone
purchased any clothing from either one of them. Back then, he'd been the
cheapest man she'd met, and to tell the truth, he still was right now.
Larry had a high-yellow complexion, almost-black hair, grayish-brown
eyes, and a perfect, athletic build. He was the ideal man for Regina,
her being partial to light-skinned men and all, and by far the best looking
man she'd ever laid eyes on. Simply put, the man was finer than expensive
wine, and it was no wonder that when she'd first met him, there were at
least a dozen, female vultures trying hard to sink their vicious claws
into him and the reason why she'd gone to major extremes to make sure
they hadn't come close to succeeding at it.
"You look nice," Regina said wrapping the towel around her body and securing
both ends together at the point just above her breasts.
"Thanks, baby."
Regina sat down on the side of the bed and watched him spray what must
have been the last of his Cool Water cologne, because just yesterday,
he'd asked her to pick him up a new bottle the next time she went to the
mall. She crossed her legs and leaned back with both of her palms pressed
against the bed. "What time will you be back?"
"Probably around nine o'clock or so. I'll call you if it gets to be later
than that, though."
Uh-oh. She didn't like the sound of that. Last week, it had been after
eleven when he'd finally remembered where home was, and she sure hoped
he wasn't planning to stay out that late again.
Larry walked over to Regina, drew her into his arms, kissed her, and
looked her straight in her caramel brown eyes. "I love you, baby, and
I promise, we'll do whatever you want tomorrow."
"Have a good time," Regina said. She really didn't mean it, but was trying
to be sensible about this whole thing.
"I'll see you when I get back," Larry said and headed down the stairs.
Regina was about to follow him when she heard the phone ring. She answered
it.
"Hello?"
There was no answer.
"Hello? Hello?" Regina slammed the receiver on the hook and grunted.
Nothing angered her more than when someone called and hung up. If a person
had the wrong number, the very least they could do was apologize before
simply hanging up in someone's face. Damn them.
"Who was that on the phone?" Larry yelled back up the stairs.
"Nobody important, I guess. They wouldn't say anything."
She heard him shut the kitchen door and not too long after, heard the
garage door closing. She couldn't believe it. He had actually remembered
to shut it this time. Maybe there was hope for Larry Moore yet.
As Regina reached for the remote control to switch the solid oak, console
TV to channel nine for the lottery results, the phone rang. She picked
up the black, cordless phone in the family room and pressed the "talk"
button. "Hello?"
No answer.
"Hello? Hello?"
There was still no response. Regina pursed her lips together, pressed
the "talk" button again, and slung the phone across the navy blue, leather
love seat. She was starting to get a little irritated with all of these
hang-ups. They had become more and more frequent over the last month or
so, and neither she nor Larry had the slightest idea who it could be.
But this was finally it. She was calling Ameritech first thing Monday
morning to order that Caller ID box, her best friend, Karen had made such
a fuss over and purchased just a few months ago. She had practically begged
Regina to order one back then, and right now, she could kick herself for
not doing it. "You spend money on everything else, why not this," Karen
had said. Regina had known she was telling the truth, but usually when
she bought things she didn't need, they were personal items like clothing,
jewelry, shoes, or cosmetics. Items for herself, and not the general household.
But now though, this whole thing was getting out of hand, and she was
starting to realize what a major relief it would be to find out who this
unidentified caller was, and more importantly, why he or she was calling
there in the first place.
The WGN announcer called out the Pick Four and Little Lotto numbers,
and Regina jotted them down. 3-2-5-7 and 1-14-17-21-30. Whoever had made
that phone call needed the crap beat out of them. Sister had missed the
three digit, and nobody made her do that without hearing about it. Six
months ago, Larry had yelled for her to come rinse out the relaxing creme
from one of those wave curl kits he'd combed into his hair, explaining
that it had been in for over twenty minutes and was slowly starting to
burn his overly sensitive scalp. But Regina had ignored him and not moved
one inch until the last of those lottery results had been flashed across
the screen. By the time she'd made it down the stairs, Larry was already
trying ferociously to wash it out himself. Although, unfortunately for
him, it was too late. Larry's baby-like scalp was on fire and within three
days, sores had scattered throughout his entire head. Needless to say,
he'd never interrupted Regina's Illinois lottery results again.
She reached over the left arm of the love seat, picked up her tan trimmed,
evergreen Dooney & Bourke shoulder bag and pulled out the numbers she'd
played at the Seven Eleven right after work. She checked the numbers twice,
but hadn't matched one number. The outcome was no different than any of
the other times she'd played, but as usual, her face was covered with
a look of disappointment as soon as she realized her numbers were nowhere
in the proximity of the ones that had been drawn. She gazed down at her
watch and saw that it was nine-thirty. Larry still wasn't back yet. Hadn't
even called for that matter. He was being inconsiderate again, and she
didn't appreciate this shit one bit. She was trying to understand, but
damn, this man was trying her patience.
She stood up and walked toward the kitchen. She was hungry, but too lazy
to cook and unwilling to drive to some fast food joint. The Chinese rice
they'd picked up from Wong Wong last night was going to have to do. She
pulled open the right door of the refrigerator, took out the small white
box, emptied the rice onto a Tupperware plate, and centered it inside
the microwave. She was never sure how long to set the timer for, but settled
on four minutes.
When the buzzer sounded off, she removed the plate, took a fork from
the drawer and went back into the family room. She took one mouthful and
felt a burning sensation dash across her tongue. "Damn." This shit was
way too hot. She sat the plate down on the floor, to allow it some additional
time to cool off.
After flipping through TV Guide and reading a few of the articles it
contained, Regina checked to see if her food had finally cooled down,
and it had. She picked up the remote control and scanned through the channels.
As usual, nothing was on, so she pressed the power button. She finished
the rice, which she couldn't taste now that her tongue was numb, stood
up, walked over to the floor lamp, turned it off, and left the family
room. She wasn't in the mood for washing any dishes, and two small items
weren't nearly enough to be loading into the dishwasher, so she went into
the kitchen, placed the fork and plate in the sink, and headed upstairs.
When she entered the bedroom, she walked toward the paisley-colored chaise
and lifted up the suit she'd laid there right before taking a shower.
This one was her favorite. Partly because of the gold buttons lined down
the front, but mainly because it was a size ten, and the waistband of
the skirt no longer cut her circulation off. She was five foot six and
not by far on the heavy side, but over the past two years, had put on
five to six unwanted pounds straight through her mid-rib section. Blaming
it on being happily married and settled down. But four months ago, when
she was completely fed up and didn't see any other way to shed this dreadful
weight, she persuaded Karen and her other good friend, Marilyn to sign
up for a Saturday morning aerobics class at the health club, and eventually
persuaded them to start working out with the toning machines two nights
during the week. That is, until about three weeks ago when Karen started
missing the class and each of the weeknight toning sessions. Tomorrow,
though, she was going to call her bright and early, because it was already
mid-April, and she surely did not want to hear Karen complaining about
all the weight she'd picked up over the winter and how hard it was going
to be for her to lose it before the break of summer, which right now,
was barely two months away. After hanging her suit, Regina left the walk-in
closet and started toward the cherry-wood, king-size bed, and turned back
the comforter. She sat down on the side of the bed and slipped off the
Bulls T-shirt and black shorts she'd thrown on right after Larry had left.
She debated as to whether she should slip on an everyday nightgown or
take another shower and put on a sexy negligee. There was always the chance
Larry would want to make love to her when he got home, and she wanted
to be fresh. Of course, he hadn't made any attempts the two previous Fridays
when he'd finally arrived home, but it was better to be ready anyway,
just in case he wanted her tonight.
When she stepped out of the shower, she dried off for the second time,
sat on the edge of the tub and lotioned her body. That peach-scented shower
gel by Victoria Secret smelled better than it had in the store, and she
was going to make sure and stock up on it the next time she shopped at
Woodfield Mall.
Regina was a beautiful woman. Her hair was perfectly cut in a short,
faded style, similar to Anita Baker's, but with a more wavier texture
to it. The color was a sandy brown, which complimented her light complexion.
A light complexion that was the cause of her being a bit color struck.
She wasn't consciously aware of it, but her subconscious was a whole different
story. She was wholeheartedly convinced that being light-skinned proved
she was just a little more attractive than any and every dark-skinned
sister in existence. Celebrities, supermodels. It didn't matter who they
were or how gorgeous they looked. As far as she was concerned, the only
competition she had when it came to beauty were other fair skinned black
women or women that were white. Which is why it had always bothered her
when men seemed to direct their attention toward Karen whenever they went
out to a club. She was dark-skinned, and it just didn't make any sense.
They would consistently ask Karen if she wanted to dance, if they could
give her a call, or if they could take her to dinner. It had been that
way all through college and quite honestly, not much different now that
they were married. For the life of her, she couldn't understand it. She
just couldn't see it.
Regina walked back into the bedroom, slipped her black, silk, above-the-knee
night gown on, climbed into bed and reached toward her nightstand to pick
up Terry McMillan's Waiting to Exhale. She had already finished each of
the latest contemporary novels by Connie Briscoe and BeBe Moore Campbell,
but last week, had decided to read this one again. She, of course, didn't
have any problems with finding or keeping a man the way those women in
that book did, but had still been thoroughly entertained by its entire
content.
She leaned back on two, down-filled pillows, stretched her legs out under
the covers and glanced over at the clock on the VCR. It was pushing close
to eleven o'clock, and still, no Larry. Where the hell was he? This mess
was getting out of hand, and she couldn't help but wonder what tired excuse
he was going to conjure up this time. Damn him. |
What
happens when a husband and wife appear to have the perfect life on the
outside, when in reality, their marriage is practically falling apart
behind closed doors?