The audience gave Zen a standing welcome. Jada exited backstage through the curtains and made certain everything was in place. Ginger, Miranda, and Heather had arrived and were already on top of things. Jazzmyne’s publicity techniques brought more local residents than usual and plenty of local entrepreneurs.
The top award went to Ginger’s client. Darius, Zen, Miranda, and Heather’s clients placed in order second through fifth. Too bad Darius wasn’t there to present his award. The day was long, and the week was longer; but everyone pulled together, and the Fifteenth Annual Cultural Festival surpassed the previous ones, largely in part to Darius’s broader vision. Chris Tucker, Paul Rodriguez, and Margaret Cho kept folks laughing for days. At the closing banquet Friday night, Jada presented each of her staff with personalized plaques to show her appreciation for their contributions.
Before departing Manhattan, Jada visited Shandolon in Jersey, thanked her for the shea butter, and asked if she had something new. The tropical scents reminded her of Lawrence, and she didn’t want to revert to her chocolate-flavored cocoa butter lite oil. Shandolon promised she’d create an exclusive shea butter fragrance—sweet with a hint of spice that no man would resist—and name it Forgiveness.
“Honey, not that you need amnesty, but when you wear this potion, he’ll forgive you for the things you haven’t even done yet.” Shandolon raised her hand to a high five.
Wow! Jada never imagined having a scent produced with her in mind, but that was a fantastic idea.
Jada laughed as she browsed the store. “I’ve looked everywhere for Promises to Keep by Gloria Mallette and She Touched My Soul by Naleighna Kai. Every bookstore I’ve been to can’t keep them on the shelf.”
“Well, your search is over because my reorders arrived right before you walked in.” Shandolon disappeared into a back room and returned, placed the novels in a tote bag, and gave it to Jada. “Consider this an expression of my appreciation of your support.”
Heading back to her hotel room, Jada realized she’d missed her appointment for a much needed massage. Like their first date in Carmel, Wellington decided to lodge in an adjacent room. They agreed that sexual intimacy would take place after their ceremony, but Jada packed her entertainment DVD movie in case Wellington changed his mind.
Chapter 39
Sitting in the pastor’s study, Jada read the poem she’d written over twenty years ago after breaking up with Wellington—“Never Again Once More”:
Never say Never
because you just never know
But I’ll shout
Never!
before I go
down that road again
I must have been insane
My heart was trampled
my feet were numb
my soul was yearning
and my brain was . . .
dummy!
Stupid I’m not
nor am I crazy
but I’ve complicated matters
and added a baby
Now I’m dazed and confused
and to make matters worse
I’m still in love with you
it hurts
it hurts
Like hell!
so straight to hell
with this roller coaster thrill
Never Again
will I play the fool
or let a fool play me
Never Again
will I sell my soul
or auction my dignity
Never Again
will I become enslaved
or labor for a master of love
Now I’ve got two hands
two fists
and leather boxing gloves
But at some point
the final round will be over
and I realize . . .
I’m still in love with you
My heart is still aching
and I’m still faking
pretending I’m whole
without
my Soul
mate
Never say Never
because you just never know
what you may do
what you might say
I love you
I love you
I do
Tearing the paper in slow motion, then tossing the pieces into the trash, Jada decided she simply would say “never again, ever again.” Yes, she’d played the fool, and she felt foolish for allowing her pride to stand in the way of her sharing her life with the man of her dreams for over twenty years. Eternally grateful for this day, Jada sat in front of the mirror and powdered her nose, realizing she had a second chance that many soul mates did not or would not experience.
Jada stood and glanced in the freestanding, old-fashioned mirror. She tilted it at an angle where she could see herself head to toe. Her veil had been replaced with a diamond tiara Wellington had bought in New York. Since she was his Nubian queen, he insisted a crown was what she deserved to wear. No Vera Wang this time, but a specially made tapered dress of Kenté cloth and, at her fiancé’s request, two splits, one up each side.
Something old: Zahra and Eunice perfumes. Something new: her crown. Something borrowed: her father’s lucky Chinese coin. Something blue: one of her mother’s brandnew G-strings.
Pastor Tellings tapped on the door. “You ready? Mr. Jones is patiently awaiting his bride.”
Opening the door, Jada said, “Yes, I’m ready.”
“Wow, you look absolutely beautiful. May I?” Pastor Tellings extended his arm.
Jada tucked her hand in the corner of his elbow and exited the rear of the church, circling around to the front. “Thank you, Pastor.”
Pastor Tellings kissed Jada’s cheek. “We’d better not keep your groom waiting any longer.” Pastor returned the way they came. The pianist played and sang, “In this world of ordinary people, extraordinary people, I’m glad there is you. . . .”
This time Jada opened the doors herself and gracefully walked down an aisle of pews garnished with bird-of-paradise. The tropical flowers were their audience because they didn’t invite anyone to the wedding. Their witnesses were God, the piano player, and Pastor Tellings.
Wellington looked captivating in his black tuxedo accented with the same cloth as her gown. The gleam in his eyes begged for a kiss, so Jada gave him a soft one on the lips. They had both agreed to throw tradition out the window, because this was their day, and that was how they would live each moment forward.
As they exchanged vows, Jada read hers first. Then Wellington cleared his throat and said, “I wrote this the night we met, because I wanted to capture the essence of what my heart was saying.” He removed the paper from his pocket and read.
“ ‘A Day I’ll Never Forget’
now i ain’t one to be inspired by words,
expressing myself in such a way is absurd
who would ever thought of a notion
did i ever even consider having that emotion
emotion, naw, that word is for squares,
damn, then why was i so consumed right there?
why did my chest well up and refused to let go?
why did thoughts in my head just start to flow . . .
to my mouth oh, did i mention my breath
i tried to catch one but there was none left.
now, what am i doing even saying these types of
things?
expressions my manhood said could not bring . . .
forward or backward or whatever place or origin,
i was being myself being cool and cordial when . . .
well they say that spirits exchange through a tight
grip . . .
of the hand or the heart, however it may be taken
ahhhhhhhhhh! where am i, have i fallen, or am i rising,
limbo perhaps, but i like where i am,
those voices, muffle into silence, i hear only
my heart knocking, my gasping, i do not think i am
lonely
on th
is path that leads into the inner depths, of your
iris,
or isis if that is who you really are
an image of pure beauty and i speak of the spirit,
you searched through my being with your eyes and i
could feel it
a piece of me you’ve taken with you it is yours indeed,
before flashing by your presence i had no need
your words to me were spoken, your lips remained
silent
helplessly surprised i began to try to fight it
your charm, your strength of character, your mind
if i turn away now you’ll respond in kind
but who is that, and why is he telling me to return,
just follow your instincts he said and you will learn
this, is not unrequited
my feeling of disbelief was soon quieted
but then, i became such a mess,
i did not know my knees would not come to rest . . .
as they knock and with the rest of my legs, pace
i actually think my lungs and heart are beginning a
race!
pow! There goes the gun they have left my torso,
the intensity in my essence builds up even more so.
i was the charmer not who is the one charmed?
if i give her hand i hope she does not break my arm
now to you. i have gathered myself,
took everything I have off my shelf
well not under my own power,
you have brought spring eternal to this flower,
the hope of butterflies, encased,
in a glass jar the shape of a vase
they call it my main organ, but damn if i don’t hear . . .
your tune playing my melody as if you have been
here . . .
well, maybe we just playin ’ the same song . . .
seems as if you have been here all along.”
Jada’s eyes swelled with tears that matched Wellington’s. He wrapped his arms around her as Pastor Tellings performed their ceremony. Before Reverend said, “You may kiss the bride,” their lips were locked.
Looking at Wellington, Jada hiked her gown above her ankles and said, “I bet you can’t beat Mama to the limo,” and dashed off. Taking in the rear view, Wellington trailed for old-times’ sake just as he’d done on their initial date.
Chapter 40
Darius lounged at Ashlee’s house in Texas, mapping together the jigsaw parts of his life as they worked to complete a thousand-piece puzzle.
“Why don’t you spend this time getting to know your real—excuse me—biological father?” Ashlee said, trying to match up a side.
“Forget that loser. He denied me before I was ever born. Now I’m supposed to step to him. He has my number. If he calls, I’ll listen. If not, like I said, forget that fool.” Darius felt cheated out of an opportunity of a lifetime. There was no way his mother could make up his lost time.
Trading her part for another, Ashlee responded, “Well, you can think about it. So what are you going to do now that you’re not working for your mother?”
“I have options. I’m thinking about laying low in D.C. for a while. Check out how my peeps are running things.” Darius laughed, tumbling the tiny cardboard between his fingers. “Maybe I’ll get involved in politics. Who knows?”
“You think you’ll get back with Maxine?” Ashlee snapped her piece in place.
“Hell, no. And you know that. I can’t take the chance of contracting HIV every day.”
“She took a chance on you.” Ashlee matched up another jigsaw.
“True dat. But you know how I feel about my dick. That shit is scary. I wrap my piece up every single time now. Sometimes I wear two condoms.” Darius turned up the volume on Training Days and sat on the floor. “Have you ever felt like your life was being fast-forwarded to the end? Like this.” Darius mimicked the sounds of squeaking mice as he advanced the movie with the remote. When he got to the scene where Denzel Washington was executed, he switched to slow motion. Dazed by every move, Darius shared his suicide contemplation with Ashlee for the first time.
“Why didn’t you tell me then? Oh, Darius. I had no idea it was that serious to you.” Ashlee hugged Darius.
“Let’s make each other a promise. If either of us needs to talk or we’re feeling depressed, we’ll call the other right away without hesitation. Deal?” Ashlee held out her hand.
“Deal.” Darius gave her a firm handshake.
Ashlee smiled. “Let’s take a vacation and have some fun. Life is too serious right now. We need to lighten up.”
“Where?” Darius stopped the video.
“You choose.”
“Okay. France. Cannes.”
“Sounds good to me,” Ashlee said.
“When?” Looking at the puzzle, he asked, “So you saved the last piece for me?”
The French Riviera was the ideal place to escape reality.
“Of course. You da man. Let’s go next week. But only if you call your mother first. I know she’s worried to death about you.”
“Now you’re trying to set me up. I thought you were legit.” Darius observed Ashlee out of the corners of his eyes.
“I am.” Ashlee picked up the phone, dialed Jada’s cellular phone, and handed the receiver to Darius.
Darius exhaled heavily.
“Hello, Ashlee,” Jada answered.
“This isn’t Ashlee; it’s Darius.”
“Darius! How are you, honey? I’m so glad you called. I miss you and I love you so much.”
“I’m fine, Mom. Just needed to get away. I’m chillin’ here in Texas with Ashlee. We’re going to Cannes next week.”
“That’s where your father and I are going tomorrow. You know we were married yesterday. We could wait there for you guys to arrive.”
That wouldn’t work. “Put Dad on the phone.” Darius was going so he could place a moratorium on negativity, not to be reminded of her lies and deceit.
“Hey, son. How are you?”
“Why didn’t you marry Mom when I was little?”
“Just keep living.” Wellington laughed. “You know we miss you. It’s okay to take time and clear your head. Just let us know where you are in case something happens.”
“Cool, I gotta run. Tell Mom I love her.” There was no need for him to put a damper on their good mood.
“Tell her yourself,” Wellington said.
Just in case today was his last, Darius wanted no regrets. “I love you, Mom. Bye.” His heart was conflicted because he hated her, too.
“I love you, too, baby. Call me soon.”
Staring at Ashlee, Darius hung up the phone.
“See, that was easy. Let’s go get some ice cream. My treat.” Ashlee hit Darius across the head with one of her stuffed Tasmanian devils.
Picking up the fluffy brown creature, Darius yelled, “Animal fight!” He straddled Ashlee and rubbed the Taz’s giant teeth in her face, hair, and chest. When his penis started rising, Darius jumped up and said, “Time to go.”
Ashlee was the only true friend he had; she even forgave him for beating up Lawrence. Nothing would come between them, not even his chocolate dipstick.
Chapter 41
Jada puckered her lips to blow out the candle on the nightstand. Before she exhaled, Wellington’s cellular phone rang. Jada watched him. Twisting his head, he contemplated. Hesitated. Quizzically, he answered, “Hello?” and braced himself up on his right elbow with his back still toward her.
“I hear congratulations are in order.”
The tone was sharp and rather cynical. Hopefully, Wellington wouldn’t lower the volume, because she could hear the person on the other end.
“You must have the wrong number,” Wellington responded.
“Oh, I n
ever have the wrong number when it comes to you.”
Silence lingered; then Wellington said, “How did you get my new number? Look. Don’t ever call me again. I’m happily married now.” Wellington sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed his head as his penis slumped over his balls. Wellington shook his head from side to side.
“Who is it?” Jada impatiently asked.
Wellington sighed heavily, stared directly at Jada, and frowned. Jada took the phone.
“Hello. Who is this?”
“Enjoy the honeymoon while you can, because I never signed the divorce papers. Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha,” Melanie roared.
“Nice try. My attorney confirmed everything,” Jada replied.
“Well, I hope your attorney is a forensic scientist, because Wellington signed my name to those papers. Ask him.” Melanie screamed with laughter again. “Cynthia insisted, so legally I’ve never changed my name either, so welcome to the family. You see, that cute little thirty-something-year-old that has the cute little Wellington Jones II, my husband thought he was married to her for six months.” Melanie laughed even louder that time.
“I hope you burn in hell!” Jada screamed into the receiver.
“Only if it’s God’s will,” Melanie replied. “But isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black, black. Who’s your baby’s daddy?” Melanie laughed.
“You’re one pathetic, miserable bitch. Maybe if you weren’t preoccupied with trying to destroy other people’s lives, you’d have one of your own. Now, I really don’t care what you and Cynthia do, but I have a strong, fine, sexy-ass black man waiting for love and affection that only one woman can give him. And that woman is me.” Imitating Melanie, Jada roared with laughter.