Читать книгу Two Grooms and a Wedding - Adrianne Byrd, Pamela Yaye - Страница 6

Isabella didn’t float home on a cloud and she doubted she would dream of any happily-ever-after with her newly minted fiancé. Instead, Isabella wondered about the mess she got herself into.

“What do you mean, he proposed? You were supposed to break up with him,” Keri thundered into the phone.

“I know. I know. But what was I supposed to do? He had invited our parents to dinner. Everyone was sitting there staring at me.”

“You were supposed to say no.”

Isabella sighed, and slumped onto the bed. She heard a loud rip, jumped up and ran to the mirror to see a long tear in the back of her dress. “Just great!”

“What happened?”

“Uhm. How soon do you need your green dress back?”

“Izzy, you said you’d be careful!”

“I know. I know.” She sighed. Why was she always such a klutz? “It’s just a small rip,” she lied. “I can fix it.” Balancing the phone between her shoulder and chin, Isabella struggled to reach the back zipper. When it jammed halfway down, she opted to pull the silk dress over her head, which caused her to lose her precious balance, drop the phone and crush her toes.

“Ow. Ow, ow.” She hopped around the room blind on her good foot. Once the throbbing eased, she shouted down to the floor, “Just a sec, Keri.” Isabella wiggled and pulled and after a few long seconds managed to work her way out of the dress. “I’m back.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I dropped the phone.” She sat on the edge of the bed and reached to take off her shoes when one heel came off in her hand. “Uhm, about your shoes…”

“Izzy!”

“I’m sorry. I just…I’m just sorry.”

“Forget the shoes. What are you going to do about Randall?”

Isabella checked behind her before easing back onto the bed.

“Isabella, are you there? Hello.”

“I’m still here,” she mumbled.

“So what are you going to do? I mean, you’re not going to go through with it, are you? You’re not in love with Randall.”

“I could learn to love him.”

“What?” Keri shrieked. “Please say you’re joking.”

Isabella sighed. Was she joking? Really, what was wrong with falling in love after marriage? Does true love really exist? Hell, she didn’t know anymore.

“Izzy?”

“I don’t know, Keri. Randall is a good catch and it’s not like there’s a line of men banging down my front door. There never has been.”

“Don’t say it like that. What about that guy you met at the library?”

“You mean, Arthur? That was years ago. We went out one time and all he talked about was reaching some ridiculous level in some video game. Besides he had too many no’s.”

“He had too many what?”

“No’s. No job, no car, no money and most importantly no personality. Consequently, he got married last year.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I was. I was hard up enough a few months ago and called him again.” Isabella grabbed a toss pillow, covered her head and proceeded to scream.

“Izzy? Izzy?” Keri shouted.

When her brief moment of anxiety and frustration passed, Isabella removed the pillow from her head and placed the phone back against her ear. “It’s all right. I’m back.”

“Okay. So Arthur is off the list. No big deal.”

“No big deal? What does it say about the world when he can get hitched and I, an intelligent woman with a damn good job…and somewhat decent looking can only get asked out once every three years?”

“Izzy, stop putting yourself down. You’re a pretty girl. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

How come she only heard those words from her parents and friends? Acidic tears burned the backs of Isabella’s eyes. The truth was the truth. She wasn’t beautiful and she should count herself lucky Randall Jarrett ever gave her the time of day. “Randall would make a good husband.”

“So you’re just going to settle?”

“I didn’t say I was settling.”

“That is exactly what you’re saying. You’re letting Randall and your parents run your life.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh, please. Your parents chose your college, law school, your condo, half of your friends and now they have thrown you into Randall’s arms.”

Isabella groaned at having the truth tossed back at her. The great thing about Keri was her wonderful way of telling it like it is. Sometimes she was a little too blunt, but love it or hate it, everyone always knew where they stood with Keri.

Sometimes Isabella wished she was more like her best friend. For one thing, Keri was gorgeous. Whenever she walked into a room, everyone noticed. Then there was Keri’s no-nonsense attitude. She had no time for fools, or “dawgs” looking for a quick score.

“Take control of your life, Izzy,” Keri said. “Do something. Stand up for yourself. This is your chance before they marry you off and pump you full of kids. Call Randall tonight and tell him you can’t marry him.”

“But—”

“No buts. Do it now. Tonight!”

Isabella fell silent while a knot looped and tightened in her chest. “Time to get a backbone,” she mumbled.

“That’s my girl,” Keri encouraged. “Call him and then call me back,” she instructed.

Isabella nodded and then rolled onto her back. “But what if he’s not there?”

“Izzy!”

“Okay. Okay. I’m calling right now.”

“Good. You’re doing the right thing.”

Then why did it feel like she’d swallowed a fifty-pound lead rock? Isabella disconnected the call, and stared at the phone. Just call him, she told herself. Her hands itched and her fingers tingled, but still she couldn’t make the call.

Five minutes went by.

Ten minutes.

Twenty minutes later, Isabella reached for the phone, but after punching in one number, she hung up.

“I’ll call him tomorrow.”

Tomorrow she’d know what to say.

Derrick strolled through the doors of Herman’s Barbershop flashing a wide smile and bobbing his head in greeting to the Saturday morning regulars. For nearly twenty-five years Derrick had been coming to the small shop.

A few men tossed a “Yo, Derrick,” his way and he volleyed a “Whassup?” back at them.

Herman Keillor, a tall, robust man, who was in his early seventies, had owned the shop through some hellish times. Most customers came for his wonderful stories. Not only had Herman given Derrick his first haircut when he was just six, but the old man had often bragged about giving Derrick’s father his first one as well.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming this morning,” Herman boomed from across the room.

“I always keep my appointments,” Derrick said, shuffling across the room, dodging stretched out legs and chunks of shaved hair lying across the floor. “I do have a flight in a few hours, so we’re going to have to make this quick.”

“Bobby!” Herman shouted. “Get out here and sweep some of this hair up.”

A second later, Bobby, Herman’s seventeen-year-old great grandson rushed from the back of the shop with a broom and quickly got to work.

Men in the neighborhood filtered in and out daily, but Saturday remained the shop’s busiest day. Six barbers, ranging from old school to new school donned burgundy barber jackets with Herman’s name scrawled on the back. Despite residing in a red brick building that had clearly seen better days, Herman’s Barbershop looked brand smacking new on the inside.

“Here. Have a seat,” Herman instructed and reached for a black cape.

Derrick took his seat in the offered leather chair and made himself comfortable.

Herman’s was the place to be to discuss women, politics and sports. It was a place where men were free to be themselves, get and give advice or just plain bond with one another.

On the suspended television set, some NASCAR race was well on its way, but none of the brothas were paying it any attention.

“Why do you have this stuff on?” Derrick asked.

“Cable is acting up. It’s either this or Sponge-Bob,” Herman cackled.

“Then never mind.” Derrick laughed.

The bell above the shop’s door jingled and Derrick looked up to see his buddy Stanley Patterson race inside.

The regulars greeted the lanky redhead with affectionate nicknames ranging from “Breadstick” to “Red” and even “Whitey.” A couple of the new clients glanced at Stanley as if they were wondering if he was lost.

“Hey, you beat me here,” Stanley said, panting. “I figured you and Meghan would still be celebrating your getting that award.”

That comment caught a few ears and Derrick groaned. “Meghan and I decided to move on.”

“What?” Stanley thundered. “Why? I thought you two had something going.”

“It just didn’t work out,” he said and hoped that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t.

“Did she find out about the others?” Stanley asked.

“My man Derrick be laying the pipe down for real,” Bobby chuckled with a note of admiration.

“Humph,” Herman grunted his disapproval.

“We had an open relationship,” Derrick stressed. Why was everyone forgetting about that major detail?

“Hey, you can pass her my way.” J.T., the neighborhood’s merchandise peddler, said while showing off a tray of fake Rolexes to potential customers. “I saw you two at Phipps Plaza some time back. You sure know how to pick them. Lawd knows you do.”

“You got that right,” Stanley cut in before Derrick had a chance to answer. “Thick and curvy with a booty out of this world.”

“Stan,” Derrick hissed, trying to shut him up.

“What, man?” His buddy laughed. “Everyone in here knows how you roll. You hook up with the finest women in the A-T-L. You’re the man.”

Bobby stopped sweeping to ask, “How do you do it? Do you have a line or something?”

Just like that Derrick was the center of attention. Bobby looked like he was ready to bust out a pen and paper to take notes.

“Nah. It’s nothing like that,” Derrick answered modestly.

Disappointment crept slowly across Bobby’s face and Derrick had the distinct impression the young man was suffering from a mild case of girl troubles. It wasn’t hard to guess why. Acne blanketed the boy’s face and his thick black-rimmed glasses looked as though they were a borrowed pair from his great grandfather.

“It’s not important the number of women you get,” Herman said. Undoubtedly, he’d noticed Bobby’s sullen expression, too. “It’s finding that one special woman. This knucklehead—” he thumbed Derrick on the back of his head with a plastic comb “—is gonna realize that one of these days.”

Derrick smiled and shook his head.

“Be still,” Herman instructed.

Herman’s declaration didn’t seem to cheer Bobby any—in fact, it only won a few chuckles around the shop.

“I’m serious,” Herman insisted gruffly. “You young folks.” He tsked under his breath. “You just don’t know what’s important anymore.”

“And what’s that, old man?” someone questioned near the front door.

“Family,” Herman said.

Derrick had mouthed the same answer and shook his head again. The guy by the door must have been new to the shop. The regulars knew Herman never missed an opportunity to climb on his soap box about how young men today where turning their backs on the traditional black family.

“It breaks my heart seeing all these beautiful sisters roaming around here raising these babies by themselves. It’s a damn shame,” Herman said.

“Hey, I don’t have any baby mommas,” Derrick said, feeling the need, once again, to defend himself. “And since I’m not ready to settle down, I make sure I practice safe sex.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Stanley added.

“Safe sex or no sex?” J.T. asked.

Another round of snickering ensued. Stanley’s normally pale face bloomed a bright red. Still, it was amazing no one called his Irish friend out or ragged him about trying to date across the color lines. Derrick suspected it was because Stanley was not only a friend of his but was also a member of the Kappa Psi Kappa fraternity. The only white boy to do so.

Being a Kappa man gave Stanley mad respect in the neighborhood since the fraternity did a lot for the community.

“Shoot,” J.T. chuckled. “It just don’t feel the same with a condom.”

“It’s gonna feel worse when you catch something you can’t get rid of,” Herman huffed, and then added under his breath, “Lawd. Lawd. Please help these knuckleheads running around here.” He clicked on his razor and started grooming Derrick’s edges.

Minutes later, Bobby finished sweeping, Stanley was rapt into the NASCAR race and everyone else returned to their little pockets of conversations. However, Herman’s thoughts were apparently still stuck on the previous discussion.

“Let me ask you something,” the barber asked suddenly. “Are you happy?”

“Pardon?” Derrick asked, not sure whether he understood.

Herman turned off his razor. “Are you happy?” he repeated.

Again, Derrick didn’t really know how to answer. “I, uh—”

“Uh-huh.” Herman clicked his razor back on and went back to edging up Derrick’s sides. “Let me tell you something while you’re ‘not ready to settle down.’ Men and women were put on this earth to procreate. Marry and multiply. It breaks my heart to remember all the things we as a race had to overcome just for the next generations to become more lost than they ever were.”

Derrick squirmed in his seat.

“All anyone talks about is money, fast cars and loose women.” Herman tsked again. “We used to come in here and talk about how to advance the race. Now everyone’s just hustlin’ and only thinking about themselves,” Herman said.

“I’m far from being a hustler,” Derrick laughed, trying to lighten the old man’s mood. “You know how long I’ve struggled to make a success as a political strategist, bouncing back and forth to Washington. It’s a lot of hard work, long hours.”

“Uh-huh,” Herman said, unimpressed. “Nice slogan to put on your gravestone. Much better than something like: Derrick Knight—a wonderful husband and father.”

Derrick swallowed.

“Let me tell you something, son.” Herman clicked off his razor and turned the chair so that their eyes would meet. “There’s nothing on earth better than the love of a good woman. You think you’re a success now? Man, that’s nothing compared to what you could do with a soul mate in your corner. Someone to hold you up when you don’t think you can stand any longer. It’s not about who has the deepest curves or the thickest backside, but someone who, when you look into her eyes, her soul speaks to you down in here.” He thumped Derrick’s chest, indicating his heart. “Love like that is better than some fancy job or fast car. Love like that is what it’s truly all about. I know it and your father knows it, too.”

Derrick’s parents, now retired and living it up in Florida, shared a love that inspired everyone who knew them. But none of this changed the fact that Derrick had never experienced this ground-shaking love his parents shared.

Never.