Chapter 52.3: I stand by my choices
Lula’s POV
Mrs. Carol Jean cooks a traditional Louisiana breakfast the next morning and gives me another reason to love her. I swear, I wish this woman had been my momma. She cares and she knows how to smother shrimp and grits in cheese and butter.
“Have I met all the family? I remember you mentioning your mother-in-law. Is she still alive? Is your mother still alive?
Mrs. Carol Jean shakes her head. “My momma dead of cancer. Never knew my daddy. My mother-in-law is still alive but that’s like asking ’bout Tank’s daddy. He never goes to see her, doesn’t talk about her and doesn’t acknowledge her. She believed her son, never believed Pierre was Antoine’s. Don’t open that can of worms.”
Got it. I won’t make the same mistake twice.
I leave the house and drive over to Houston. I’m glad Tank has a navigation system in this car; I get lost twice trying to get to the Cheesecake Factory me and Chenae agreed on.
I finally arrive and I just barely stopped sweating. That Escalade got a good air conditioner. I walk over to the restaurant and stop short. Chenae is there with two friends. She sees me and smiles. I don’t trust that smile.
“Tallulah, this is Amitrice and Christina. They’re friends of mine.” She leans in and whispers, “I tried to ditch them but the moment they found out where I was going, they demanded to come along.”
I don’t believe this for a minute but I nod at the ladies. She hands me a shopping bag and I look inside. Two Intro to Social Work books. I thank her for the books and immediately take those back out to the car. I walk back in and they’ve been seated but the hostess takes me right to them. We’re seated and they all look at each other.
“Have you ever been here, Tallulah?”
“Lula, please, and yes. There’s one right across the street from my favorite mall.”
They nod and we all agree on appetizers and entrees. I’m thinking about how long the drive to San Antonio is and I order a slice of cheesecake and an entrée for Tank.
“Wow . . . That’s a lot of food,” Christina says, eyes wide. I look at her closely. All three of these girls are half my size and they order like it.
“I ordered something for Tank, just in case he hasn’t eaten when I get home.”
“Tank?”
“Pierre,” Chenae says. The girls nod.
“I’m so jealous of Chenae. She’s so lucky to have a big brother who cares about her education. She didn’t have to make difficult decisions about loans and work-study like the rest of us did. She had time to study and pledge and do all that stuff,” Christina says. The girls laugh and Chenae sticks her tongue out.
“Yeah, but my brother’s standards are high. Very high. He only wants the best and that’s what he deserves. He demands excellence and I made sure not to disappoint.”
Is this some kinda backhanded comment at me? I take a sip of my water and smile. No need to accuse the girl yet. It mighta just been an innocent comment.
“So you girls pledged a sorority?” They all grin and nod, smiling. They throw up their little hand signals and I got no damn idea what that meant. “What did you pledge?”
“Alpha Kappa Alpha! The first and the finest black Greek letter organization for women,” Amitrice answers.
I grin. “What’s the colors?”
“Salmon pink and apple green,” Chenae says.
“Oh! I love those colors.” I laugh. “I love ’em so much that Tank told me that those two colors absolutely could not be in our home.”
All smiles drop. “Our sorority is about more than just colors.”
I blink. “I wasn’t saying nothing about your organization. Just that I love those colors.”
It’s quiet before the conversation picks up again. We spend the next hour chatting and I relax. They’re smart girls and they talk about their on-campus life and what it’s like to be in college. I’m soaking it up. I’m thinking I really will go into social work. I can see where I can make a difference and, unlike my future sister-in-law, salary won’t matter as much to me.
Finally, they run out of college stuff to talk about so they start asking me questions. After ten minutes, I see what they’re up to. They’re trying to dig into my history again. It becomes blatant when Amitrice turns to me.
“So Lula, I understand you were quite the woman about town in New Jersey. What did you do?”
Now, I’m no idiot. I know that’s another way of sayin’ prostitute. I learned all the different ways to say it. So I play stupid.
“Woman about town?” I frown. “No, I don’t know that many people.”
They look at each other. “Really? I was led to believe you had an extensive network. You’ve been in New Jersey for how long? At least 20 years, right?”
“Closer to ten years.” 14 years, 8 months. What the hell! I thought me and Chenae made progress last night. What’s this about?
“So, what did you do, Lula?” Christine asks. “Chenae said you were involved in independent sales,” she smirks.
OK, that’s blatant. “Not that it’s any of your business, Christine, but I was a solo businesswoman. I had a good. I sold it.” I take a sip of water, motion for the waiter, and ask for Tank’s food to go. Now.
“No disrespect intended, Lula,” she responds smoothly. “Chenae told us you were a businesswoman and I’m always interested in hearing about female entrepreneurs. What was your business?”
Damn. You really gonna push this, huh? “I sold something you girls give away for free.” I smile coldly and take another sip of water to stop me from saying anything else. All three blush and look at me in astonishment. No one has a comeback for that. The waiter arrives with Tank’s food and I dig in my purse for my wallet. I pull two twenties and look at all three girls. Chenae is angry and the friends are embarrassed and looking at Chenae.
“I see what you three are doing. You think that just because I don’t have your fancy college education and degrees I can’t think. Well, here’s something new for you, ladies. I’m not stupid. I just don’t have the piece of paper that you do. I understand what you’re saying.”
I lean forward and glare at them. Chenae’s still angry and looks ready to cry.
“None of you could have lived my life for a single day. You wouldn’t have made it. You all have family you depend on and Chenae, you have a brother who loves you. You didn’t have to make my hard choices in life so that don’t give you any right to get uppity with me.”
I lean back and look at her, cold. “Instead of doing the smart thing, which would be trying to get to know your big brother’s new woman, you decided to come here and act a fool. Worse, you pull your friends into it. You’re the baby and he loves you but honey, he loves me more. I’m gonna be the wife. You’re the sister. Those are the facts of life.”
I stand and drop the twenties on the table to cover my part of lunch. “Your Momma told me that she considers your brother an excellent judge of character. So do your other sisters. So that shoulda been your first clue that maybe I’m not as bad as you want me to be.”
I walk out, furious. I need to go shoe shopping. Where’s Macy’s?
I’m finally done being angry. It’s after dinner and it’s late but my phone hasn’t rung yet. I look; no missed calls. I drive back to the apartment and enter the living room. No Tank. I slip his dinner into the fridge (glad I asked them to pack it on ice. This 100 degree weather is ridiculous!) and take a shower before walking into our bedroom.
Tank’s in the bed waiting on me. He sits the book down (he reads some damn thick books) and hands me a glass of water. I don’t say anything, just slide under the covers, drink the water and roll my hair. I look over at him and he has that damn blank face on.
“Better?” I nod. “What happened?”
I bite my lip to keep from crying. “Did you even wonder where I was?”
He pulls out his phone. The Escalade has a GPS tracking device and I can see the dot showing that the car is outside. I lean back against the pillows. I don’t want to talk about this yet.
Tank puts the phone on the charger and reaches for me. I don’t have to speak for the next two hours.
“Chenae called me.”
I clench my jaw. “What she tell you?”
“Nothing you haven’t heard before and nothing I haven’t ignored before.” I swallow but I got a big lump in my throat. “I told you that you come first, Lula. You shouldn’t have been afraid to come talk to me.”
“I’m not afraid to talk to you.”
“Then can you explain why the truck was halfway to Austin today?” I sigh and wiggle next to him. He pops my hip. “Not yet. Give the Sergeant some recovery time.”
I giggle. “He’s never needed it before.”
“He doesn’t need it now, but I want to understand what happened.”
Shit. Sigh. “I was angry.” Tank is rubbing my back. “I wanted to make some headway with her. Yo momma and sisters told me about her, about how you practically raised her.” I smile and kiss his nipple. The sergeant bobs his appreciation and I feel Tank smile. “It made me love you all over again. She’s important to you, and I was willing to set aside the way we met to get to know her, just like I did for Wilma and Thelma. She threw it back in my face, put my business on front street. Pissed me off because she threw my second chance back in my face. It hurt because I thought me and her made progress yesterday. I was starting to like the girl.”
Tank sighs. “How do you want me to handle it?” I look at him. “I’m gonna handle it, Lula Bear, but I’m not making moves that will piss you off later. I prefer harmony in my home. I don’t like coming home to a pissed off Lula.”
I laugh and snuggle under him. I’m thinking about how to get the point across. “What were you getting her for a graduation gift?”
“New car. I was trying to decide between a Honda CR-V or a Ford Explorer.”
“She was driving a new Camry.”
Tank nods. “I bought it when she graduated valedictorian from high school.”
“So that car is only three years old?” He grunts and I’m stunned. “Why she need a new car? The car she got is practically new!”
Tank rubs my back in silence. Finally, he speaks. “OK. She forfeits her graduation gift from me. Good compromise. You got an objection to me pitching in for her graduation party?”
“Who’s paying?”
“Me, Wilma and Thelma.”
“Nope. Ya’ll celebrating her success jointly. That’s fine.”
“Fine. She loses her graduation gift and I’m not paying for grad school.”
“Were you gonna pay for grad school?”
Tank nods. “It wasn’t fair that I paid for part of Wilma and Thelma’s grad degrees, then cut Chenae off, so I was gonna do it. Now she’s lost that. I made it clear that disrespecting you was the same as disrespecting me. She didn’t believe me. She will now.”
Tank’s POV
Flashback—Three years ago
Bobby’s arrived for his annual volunteer trip to New Orleans. Momma’s been trying to fatten him up, so Bobby’s been running miles and miles at the track in Carencro. Normally I love it when Bobby joins me here to help rebuild the city, but I want to break him this year. It’s not his fault that Chenae’s decided my brother is handsome, but still. . .
That’s my Baby Shug. She’s gotta quit looking at him like that. He’s way too old for her.
Bobby’s amused. Chenae is definitely trying to impress him by acting older than her age. Momma told me to shut up and quit giving my friend the evil eye. Apparently this is some rite of passage for women, flirting with older men. Unlike Momma, Chenae is trying her skills on a good man, one who will remember that he’s looking at a child and leave her alone but allow her to practice on him. Fine.
But I’m watching Bobby. Like a hawk.
Chenae starts college this fall and she’s been telling Bobby about her intention to go into social work, so he suggests that she come with us and volunteer. Bobby usually volunteers with the Red Cross or Health Care for the Homeless. This year it’s HCH but I’m working with the Red Cross. Chenae opts for HCH with him.
We travel to New Orleans and I arrange for Chenae to have her own room. They returned to the hotel the first few nights and Bobby’s eye was twitching each time. That’s unusual for him. Meanwhile, Chenae complained about everything at HCH. The people, the smells, the paperwork, the policies and procedures. I could see she was miserable and asked her if she wanted to come to the Red Cross with me.
Nope. Momma said it wasn’t going to happen. Bobby’s handsome and sophisticated. She’ll follow him all summer, even while hating it.
On Friday, we drive the two hours back to Momma’s. While Chenae’s helping Momma in the kitchen, I decide to ask Bobby about it. I find him on the porch escaping Chenae and smile mentally.
“She’s gotta change majors,” was his first comment.
“You took her to a homeless shelter to volunteer. It might be the wrong thing for her.”
He looks at me. “Social work is, by its very nature, people centric. It’s about responding to the personal challenges people face and attempting to help them overcome them, by providing encouragement or resources or both. In this case, I asked the volunteer coordinator to give Chenae a simple assignment in patient relations, since she wants to go into social work. Something greater than sitting at a desk. Allow her to interact with people, that’s all.” He tilts his head at me. “It’s not a lot of work and your sister is whining about it. She’s not cut out for social work, Tank. Encourage her to go for a different degree.”
I stare at him. “She was overwhelmed. Perhaps she would do better as a researcher.”
He snorts. “She’d still have to do field work. I watched her, Tank. She’s ill at ease with people she considers her social inferiors. She visibly reacted to the conditions of the homeless and that made them uncomfortable and embarrassed. And angry. I had to pull your sister in with me at one point because she was making it clear that one man’s smell was getting to her.”
He looks at me and shakes his head. “I want you to think about this. Are you comfortable with your sister working with the least of them? Working with people like the homeless, like you, like your family? Is she ready to work with juvenile offenders? Has she really thought about this profession?”
That stings. I don’t like the implied classism. “I know you come from money, Bobby, but I never thought of you as a snob.”
He hangs his head for a moment and blows out a frustrated breath. “Tank. You miss the point. First, I’ve never judged you or your family. I accept your mother’s kind offer to stay in her home every time I visit and I remind myself not to break your brother’s bones. Give me some credit. I’m acknowledging that your family, when you were a child, would be the kind of family a social worker would be interested in helping. Ms. Lucille helped you because you were a troubled juvenile in need. Your mother could have used help to escape your dad and support her kids. That’s what I meant.”
Bobby and I lean on the porch rails and I think about his words. I’m sensitive about my family, but he’s right. We could have used help as kids.
“I volunteer among those who need the most help. I put my life on the line to protect my country’s interests. With all my skills and experience, I could run a fucking concierge medical service and put this shit behind me, but no. I’m in New Orleans writing massive checks and putting my skills where my money is. I’m serving and volunteering where it’s needed most, in New Orleans, not in Atlanta, where my Mom could spend the evenings fattening me up.”
He blows out another frustrated breath. “I suggested your sister come with us to show her what the profession is really like. She’s choosing it now because she loves you and because Lucille Graves made such a difference in your life, but is that the right profession for her? Wilma and Thelma? They’re people people. Chenae? Chenae needs to get a business degree. Social work is not for her.”
I ask Chenae to join me in San Antonio within the week. No excuses. So Chenae shows up promptly at 8 a.m. Saturday. I’m just getting back from my jog and Lula’s in the kitchen scrambling eggs. I come back from my shower and Lula and Chenae are digging into eggs, bacon and OJ. I pour myself a bowl of cereal and take a seat.
“Where are you headed today?” I ask Lula.
“Not sure yet. I like Grace’s new board.”
I like it too. Light grey on the walls, dark flooring and accent colors of teal, yellow, and purple. Lots of color but the main color is black. I still can’t believe Grace talked her into it.
“I’m thinking Pier 1,” Lula continues. “I wanna see what kind of accessories they have. Grace said we’d hit the designer places next week.”
I smile and pass Lula my black American Express. “Don’t go too crazy.” Lula grins at me as I pick up the empty dishes and set them in the sink. She grabs her purse and sunglasses, kisses my cheek, and heads out for a day of shopping.
If Chenae’s eyes could get bigger, they’d pop out. I wave for her to join me in the living room and plop a box of Kleenex in front of her. She’ll need it. I haven’t said a word and the waterworks are already starting.
“I’m not sure where to start with you, Baby Shug,” I tell her quietly. “I made it clear when you first met her that I wouldn’t tolerate anyone disrespecting her. I let her handle that first encounter because I knew she wanted to, and I expected that to be the end of that.”
I sit back on the couch and watch her sniffle.
“As my precious baby sister, I hoped you would like her. I hoped you’d spend time with her and get to know her. I’ve never denied you anything that was within my power to give you, and the one time I ask something of you, you embarrass and hurt me.”
“Pierre, I—”
“She walked back into this apartment at 11 p.m. I was worried. My woman doesn’t know Texas, anything could happen, and you pissed her off so much that she felt the need to burn rubber for hours.”
“Just rubber? Or did she wear out the magnetic strip on your credit cards, too?” she asks snidely.
I slide my blank face into place and stare at her. Time to start breaking her down. This is no longer my precious baby sister. This is an enemy to my marriage and she will be eliminated.
“OK. I see where I’ve gone wrong. You assume that you would always be the number one woman in my life, at least behind Momma. I told you for years that was wrong, but now you see that you’re wrong.”
“No, I didn’t expect to be the number one forever, Pierre, but I did expect you to bring home a woman worthy of being my sister! Someone worthy of being your wife!”
I have to rein in my temper. “Explain.”
“She’s a ho! A prostitute. Anybody and everybody’s had her for $50. She’s uneducated and she’s living off you! I always expected you to bring home someone classy. Someone educated, with degrees and sophistication. Someone independent. Someone I could admire.”
She’s sniffling. Chenae cries about as pretty as Steph does. I’m amused and pissed.
“There’s nothing special about her. I saw the papers of her and her ‘friend.'” She finger quotes. “The friend is barely competent at her job. Hell, she’s a public menace, and every time your future wife was in the papers with her, she looked like a train wreck. One paper showed her with red hair that doesn’t occur in nature, Spandex that doesn’t stretch that much, and enough jewelry to put Mr. T to shame! How will you ever introduce her to people? How could she advance RangeMan? How is she an asset to your life? She can’t enhance your life! You have to teach her basic stuff! She’s a leech!”
I let Chenae cry while I laugh mentally. My little sister. Such a blind snob. Fuck. Bobby warned me. I owe him an apology.
“I didn’t realize I’d raised such a snob.” Chenae looks at me in shock. “How do you expect to be a social worker if you judge people on appearances before you meet them? If you judge them for the gossip before you know anything about them?” I sit back and get comfortable. “That ‘friend’ you were just insulting is currently the Managing Director for RangeMan.” Chenae swallows. “She’s also Ranger’s woman.”
She goes pale. Chenae met Ranger and, like everyone Ranger meets, Chenae was left slightly afraid of him. Only my momma had no fear of him. She spent the week fattening him up. He gained six pounds on that trip and Les rode his ass for weeks about it. I rode his ass for months, but I enjoyed watching him succumb to my mother’s care and concern and butter-laden recipes.
Ranger visits once a year and he eats everything she puts in front of him. He likes her that much.
“She also has a 100% success rate on the East coast, 98.5% if you wanna be picky, which makes her the most successful bounty hunter on the east coast. Not even Ranger and I have that record. We stand at 98% as a team.”
Chenae sits back and gets comfortable on the couch. Her eyes are wide and Salem’s jumped in her lap. He purrs and she strokes him absentmindedly.
“That ‘friend’, Stephanie, has grown the company 5% in the past 4½ months. That’s faster than we expected and it’s sustainable. Currently she’s doing management reviews within the company and doing an excellent job of plugging holes and shoring up branches and men. She’s doing an excellent job and you judged her on her newspaper articles and gossip.”
Chenae’s jaw is clenched. She didn’t expect to hear that, I’m sure.
“Public menace, huh? Well, that public menace nearly flunked out of college.” Chenae’s eyes are wide. “However, if you’re smart, you remove the classes she flunked and look at the core classes she took for her major. She had a solid B+ average. Not spectacular, but she was good in management classes. She’s proving that within my company now. She’s spectacular at the shit I fail at. I’m trying to think of ways to keep her in the company because it’s clear that she’s gonna hit double digits by the end of the year.”
“Fine! OK, I mighta been wrong on the friend if she’s doing that great a job for you but still! She’s educated. I’ll bet she’s sophisticated and she cleans up well. She mighta looked like a disaster in the newspapers but if she’s doing that great a job, then she knows how to handle business.”
“And Lula doesn’t?”
Chenae is silent.
“Again, you’re judging on appearances, Chenae. Lula survived a brutal attack that left her in the hospital for days, but she was the main witness and source that helped provide evidence to free an innocent man. That’s what made me first notice her. She did it knowing the consequences and still was brave enough to give Stephanie the information she needed to prove the charges were false. She paid a high price for her bravery.”
I sit back and stare at Chenae. Her mouth is set.
“Afterwards, she did just what she told ya’ll. She got a job. She enrolled in school. She’s independent. You know nothing about my woman. Lula doesn’t give a damn about what people think about her clothes, hair, or accessories. She wears what she’s comfortable in and fuck the rest of you. She’s paying for school one and two classes at a time because that’s what she can afford. She doesn’t have a big brother like you do that’s willing to foot her bills.
She stayed to help me decorate my apartment and because Momma encouraged her to live with me for a while. She’s got her own. This is the first time I’ve been able to spoil my woman and I’m enjoying it. Usually, the most I can do is pay for our dates and even that’s a fight sometimes. She’s determined to prove she don’t need a man. She don’t want to be under any man’s thumb.”
I get up and grab some water for us both before continuing.
“Now you? You were bankrolled by me. Your car came from me. I paid for any expenses not covered by scholarship. I paid those expensive ‘rush’ fees and I give you a stipend so you can study and not have to worry about bills. You had a better undergraduate experience than all your friends because your big brother bankrolled it all. You studied abroad in Africa and partied in Jamaica and Hawaii. You asked and I gave as long as those grades stayed high and you excelled. Dean’s List, honor societies, published research, that’s what I expect of you and that’s what you did.
Lula didn’t have that but you got the nerve to judge her? Again, how do you expect to work in social work when the people you’ll have to work with will be more like Lula and our family than your high-class sorority sisters and scholarship colleagues?”
I sit back. Chenae’s jaw is tight.
“So, I guess I’m not looking at another Miss Lucille, huh? Because you wouldn’t have time for a boy like me, would you? Even though I’m the one who needs your help, you’d ignore me. Gangbanger, thief, illiterate, I don’t talk so I must be dumb. But Miss Lucille didn’t fall for appearances. She looked at the boy, damn near man, and she helped him.
How about a woman like Momma, huh? A teenage mother with five kids once she hit her thirties and an alcoholic husband to boot? How you plan to help her? Or would you look at her and think she got what she deserved for having that many kids? Those bruises aren’t from a beating. She fell down the stairs. Yup, she doesn’t need help. But I’ll bet you have time for the fundraisers. I’ll bet you’ll be pictured prominently in the fundraiser pictures or at the rally, but you won’t give true time to the cause. Explain that, Chenae.”
Chenae is swallowing hard. “That’s not fair, Pierre. I got into social work to help people.”
“But you have no compassion and no empathy. You don’t have a heart. You judge based on things that don’t matter. Appearances, clothes, cars, that’s all stuff. Here today, gone tomorrow, replaceable. In the end, that shit doesn’t matter but character does. Character isn’t replaceable. Empathy isn’t replaceable. You don’t get to know people. You don’t look at circumstances. You don’t look at people’s hearts. You have the nerve to call Lula a leech? You are a leech, Chenae.”
Chenae bursts into tears. I stare at her coldly.
“You been sucking at my wallet for years, but as long as you were gettin’ yours it was fine, huh?”
“No!”
“Really? Well, I guess we’re about to find out. You cut off, Chenae.”
She starts hyperventilating. I cross the living room and tuck her head between her knees.
“I will pay my fair share for your graduation party. You need to thank Lula for that and keep your party under $300 cuz I’m only pitchin in $100. I will not bankroll your life in Houston or your master’s degree. I’m not buying you a graduation gift, which is a fucking shame because I was set to buy the fully loaded Explorer you wanted.”
Chenae looks up in shock. The look on my face causes her to break out in fresh sobs.
“I’m not paying your credit card bills or your rent anymore. Starting today. When you walk out of this apartment, I will begin cutting your access to every one of my accounts. Let’s see how you fare as an independent woman. You think you’ll do as well as your future sister-in-law?”
Chenae is sobbing hard at this point, but I don’t care.
“You had the nerve to insult my woman after I made it clear that it better never happen again. The shit you said the day you met her was enough. I was ready to cut you off right then, but Lula felt that was unfair to you. I told her how important you were to me and she wanted to get to know you. She has more heart than you because she set aside your nasty-ass comments and reached out to you. You insulted her in Momma’s house and she still gave you a chance! Shit, Chenae! How many times did you think you were gonna insult her without consequence?
To add more insult to the injury, you ganged up with your little friends to beat her down. Did you think that if you let them beat her up, I wouldn’t blame you? They’re your friends. You brought them and Lula together so even if you didn’t say a word, I hold you responsible. You told Lula’s personal business to people who had no need to know.”
“Pierre, this is my last year! School starts in a few weeks. Can’t you—”
“Nope. Because you couldn’t. You couldn’t give my woman the respect she deserved, the respect she’s earned. You couldn’t give me the respect I’ve earned. So I’m giving you what you earned. You’re so concerned about my wallet? So am I. I’m cutting off the drains to it and instead of being the last one to get cut off, you’re the first.”
I shake my head and snort. “What’s so fucked up is this.” She looks at me. “You so concerned about appearances. Well, I hope you got a game plan ready to explain to your friends why you won’t be balling to Hawaii after graduation.” She starts sobbing, looking truly pitiful. “Hope you ready to explain why you had to give up your apartment. Can you explain why you don’t have gas money for your car?”
I shake my head. “Let’s see how you like being judged on appearances. Hell, you won’t even have it rough. You still have your full scholarship and one year left, but since you won’t have the extra money to live it up like you used to, how many of your girlfriends gonna stick by your side? You’re about to see who your true friends are, Chenae.”
I stand and walk into the kitchen for some water. Mr. Fluffy and Josie are sitting in front of her staring. Shit like that is what I like about animals. They’re looking at her like ‘what’s wrong with you?’ I hand Chenae a glass of water and sit back on my couch. I pick up the laptop and start carrying out my decision. I cut off her access to all bank accounts and, while she cries and looks at me pitifully, I stop the automatic draft that pays her rent and disconnect the transfer link between my account and hers. By the time she’s done sobbing and has wiped her face, I’m done. She’s cut off from all my accounts. I make a note to meet with my lawyers and ensure I update my will.
“What now?”
I look over. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what’s gonna happen now?” She’s looking at me as if to beg me to change my mind.
“I dunno, Chenae. I just finished cutting your access to all my accounts, so that’s done.” She’s stunned. “You got gas money to get back to New Orleans?”
She shakes her head, so I reach for my wallet and pull out $60. “This is it. This is the last transfer you gettin’ from big brother. Fill up your gas tank and go back to campus. Your first stop on Monday better be financial aid.” I stand and hand her the cash. “Don’t call here whining and begging either, Chenae. My decision is final. I’m giving you what you earned.”
Twenty minutes later, Chenae leaves after begging and pleading with me to change my mind. I ignored her and continued reading my newest book until she gave up. Once she leaves, I call Lula and let her know Chenae is gone, then call Momma.
“Baby, she on my other line cryin’ like the world done ended.”
I sigh. “She disrespected Lula, Momma.”
“I know, and I made it clear I agreed with you. I told her I was ashamed and embarrassed by her too. Good woman like Lula with a good heart and she disrespected her in public. Shamed Lula in front of people Lula don’t even know! I couldn’t believe it. Had to get my Bible and start prayin’ for her over the phone.”
I chuckle and pour a glass of water. I’m in the kitchen, standing at the counter, when I hear the front door open. Moments later, my woman is hugging me from the back. I twist around in Lula’s arms and kiss her forehead. One bag. Sigh. Even when I try to spoil her I fail.
“Well, I’m sure she’ll start begging you for money soon.”
“Humph. Damn shame I don’t know where the ATM cards or checkbooks for those accounts are. I guess I won’t be able to get to that money.”
I laugh. “Where do you keep it, Momma?”
“Safe deposit box, baby. If I ever need money that bad, I gotta go get it. Besides, I know yo’ brother. If I had that stuff anywhere in this house, he’d find it and start draining those accounts. I told you I don’t touch your money. It’s sitting right there. Over a million dollars I’ll never touch.”
I grin. I love my Momma. Just like Lula, I can give to her and know that if she accepts it, it’s because there was a need.
“Now Pierre, I got a serious question for you, baby. What is Chenae gonna do? Is she covered for school?”
“Yeah, Momma, she’s covered. Her scholarship covers tuition, room, and board, so it means she’ll have to move back on campus, if they have room, for her last year. She can eat in the school café and live in the dorms. My covering her off-campus apartment gave her more freedom, but that’s done.”
I’d never let Chenae go without. My decision simply gives her fewer options than before.
“OK. What if they don’t have room?”
“Then I hope Wilma and Thelma are feeling generous.”
Momma snorts. “She’s up that creek then. Wilma’s overdrawn again and she and David are arguing about it. Thelma and Barry sat down and started reworking their finances since you said you were cutting everyone off. The luxury vacation to Jamaica to celebrate their anniversary has been cancelled. They put themselves on a budget. I gotta say baby, this is probably the best thing to happen in the family for a while.”
I’m thinking that Momma is right. I’m not even married yet and everyone is making the adjustments. Lula is nearly asleep leaning against me and I smile. I need to send Steph a thank you note. Lula hasn’t worn Spandex in weeks and because I love these wrap dresses so much, she’s wearing them all the time. I put the phone on mute, pull the belt to the dress and watch Lula’s eyes flutter. A small smile curves her lips and I slip my fingers inside the dress and inside her panties. Minutes later she’s ready for me. Momma is still chattering away about Antoine (I wonder if she really accepts that I don’t give a damn about him) and I’m thinking about how to accomplish my new goal.
Lula makes it easy. She wraps one leg around my waist, fishes my wallet out of my back pocket and pulls the condoms. I’m unhooking the bra and she’s getting the sergeant into his battle dress when Momma asks “So, have you thought about coming to church tomorrow?”
Lula and I both groan. Nothing to kill the mood like the idea of God watching us fornicate. The sergeant starts to droop at the idea and Lula grins and starts bucking him up. He’s back at attention in no time.
“Yo’ Momma’s timing sucks,” she whispers. I chuckle silently.
I take the phone off mute. “Momma, please don’t die from the effort.”
“Just sayin’. You getting married to the woman you love. I want this to be perfect for both of you. I like her. She the right woman for you and even if you hadn’t brought her home, if I’da met her in the streets, I’d like her. She strong and smart enough to want to be sure of you before rushing in. I like that.”
I love my momma but I gotta find some way to cut this off. I want to find my release inside my woman, especially since she’s naked and barefoot in my kitchen. I’m no chauvinist, but something about that fantasy is making me hot.
“Thanks, Momma. Look, Lula just stepped through the door, so let me talk to her about Chenae and we’ll call you back, aight?”
“OK. Love you and Lula, baby.” Click.
Ten seconds later, Lula is holding my arms and moaning and I’m putting in work. I don’t need a bed. I got her legs apart.
