Читать книгу Wedding Chocolate: Two Grooms and a Wedding - Adrianne Byrd, Pamela Yaye - Страница 14

Chapter 8

“I think I’m ready to settle down,” Derrick blurted to his frat brothers in the middle of halftime of an Atlanta Falcons game.

Stanley hit the TV remote’s mute button and all eyes zoomed to Derrick.

“Not you, too,” Charlie moaned.

Derrick frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You haven’t heard? Your old boy, Randall, got engaged,” Charlie informed him. “Damn shame.” He shook his head and turned to Taariq. “Pass me those chips over there.”

Derrick bobbed his head—not totally surprised at the news. “So he’s finally found the nation’s next First Lady?”

“Apparently,” Taariq said, handing Derrick the bowl of chips. “When I talked to him the girl sounded about as exciting as a game of cricket. I kept trying to pump him for information, and all he said was how well-connected her family was and how perfect her personality was for the whole political game. We all know that’s code for—”

“She’s a dog,” the frat brothers chimed together.

Derrick fell silent as he listened to his brothers discuss his ex-best friend and pretend he wasn’t bothered by being cut out of Randall’s life. To this day, he couldn’t believe his old friend actually believed he’d had sex with Christina Faye. Sure Randall had found them in bed together—naked, but Derrick had been clueless of how she’d gotten there. After Christina sobered up, she admitted that she was too drunk and had climbed into the wrong bed.

A simple mistake.

Randall didn’t buy it and ended his relationship with both of them. Hell, because of Derrick’s reputation, no one bought the story. But it was the truth.

Nothing happened.

“I’m happy for him,” Derrick finally said and meant it. He glanced around. “Frankly, I think old Randy may be onto something.”

His boys stared at him with their mouths hanging open.

“It’s just a thought,” he added with a shrug. “Every man must surrender sometime.”

“We’re too young to surrender,” Taariq said sternly.

“Yeah,” Hylan cosigned. “Besides, you’re like a living legend or something. If you retire—” He glanced at the others. “It affects all of us.”

“Oh, cut me a break.” Derrick turned up his beer bottle and took a long, hard swig. “Nobody wants to be dirty old men marrying women half their ages.”

“Don’t forget rich,” Charlie said. “And I don’t see anything wrong with being eighty and married to a twenty-four-year-old.”

“Yeah,” Hylan jumped in again. “Rich makes a difference.”

“Speak for yourself.” Stanley found his voice. “The only reason Amanda Easton went out with me was because I know Derrick. Same goes for Jennifer Givens or Monica Kingsley. The sistahs wouldn’t give me the time of day if it wasn’t for you.”

“Then maybe you should consider going back to your side of the fence. You catch my drift?” Taariq chuckled. “Hanging out with us is never going to make you a brother. You know this, right?”

Stanley scrunched his face as his neck turned beet red. “Yeah, I know that.” He rolled his eyes, but was unable to wipe the hurt completely from his face.

“Sorry, man. I just— I don’t know. All this partying is just getting old,” Derrick said.

“Herman has finally gotten into you, hasn’t he?” Taariq accused.

“That or that one chick you were grinding on at Visions the other night,” Charlie guessed. “She wouldn’t happen to have a sister or a cousin—”

“Hell, I’ll date her momma,” Stanley crackled, joining in on the high-fives. “Leave it up to Derrick to score with the finest woman in the place.”

“Hell, the one I caught should be having my baby,” Charlie chuckled and then tossed back the rest of his beer.

“You know how I do,” Hylan said, pumping his chest.

“I scored two fly honeys who had to be gymnasts,” Taariq boasted. “Their mounts and dismounts were worthy of gold medals.”

Laughter roared and a few of the guys pounded Taariq’s back in congratulations.

Only Stanley, with his tall lanky frame and flaming-red hair went home alone, but his boys were good about not commenting on it.

When the fuss died down, everyone returned their attention to Derrick.

“Seriously,” Charlie asked. “You’re really trying to break ranks with that chick?”

“Nah.” Derrick shook his head. “Denise was beautiful and all,” he admitted. “But we were just dancing. I’m not going to see her again.”

“Then you won’t mind if I try to hit it?” Stanley asked.

The boys tried to muffle their laughter, but failed.

Taariq leaned over and wrapped a muscled arm around Stanley’s thin neck. “C’mon, man. You know better than playing with grown folk’s toys.”

Stanley reddened and laughed good-naturedly.

“Actually,” Derrick said. “Denise is married.”

“Ooh,” his boys winced.

“Tough break,” Hylan said, shaking his head. “Course you know, married chicks are off the hook. They’re less clingy and they’re some other cat’s problem.” He tossed back the rest of his beer and then released a long belch.

As Derrick’s laughter died down, his mind drifted over Herman’s constant lecturing. For years, he had laughed off the barber’s lectures, but now he couldn’t get the old man’s words out of his head.

But monogamy? Heck, did he even have it in him? One woman—for the rest of his life?

“Uh, oh,” Hylan said, snapping his fingers in front of Derrick’s face. “I think we’re losing him.”

The weight of everyone’s gaze landed on Derrick again and he quickly blinked out of his trance. “C’mon, guys. Haven’t you, at least, thought about it?”

“Sounds like we need to do an intervention,” Taariq said somberly. His eyes still trained on Derrick. “He’s forgotten the BBD golden rule.”

Stanley nodded. “Yeah. Never trust a big butt and a smile.”

“Cut it out.” Derrick plunged his hands into the bowl of potato chips and took another swig of beer. “You can’t go the rest of your lives living and partying like drunken college students. It’s time to grow up, settle down—even have a few kids or something.”

“This is more serious than I thought,” Charlie said.

His three buddies sat back and glanced at each other.

“If it ain’t broke don’t fix it,” Hylan quipped. “It’s not broke, is it?”

Derrick hedged, wondering how to tell his boys the truth. Men didn’t talk about feelings. Well, they could express anguish or joy about their favorite sports team. Anger was celebrated especially if it was attached to plans of vengeance, but tedious soliloquies about longing, loneliness or emptiness was a definite no-no.

“Derrick?” Stanley elbowed him.

“Nah.” Derrick shook his head and flashed everyone a quick plastic smile. “No. It’s not broken.”

* * *

After a week in Atlanta, Isabella regretted agreeing to let Waqueisha give her a complete makeover—especially now that every bone and muscle in her body ached in revolt.

“Very good,” the striptease instructor praised from the front of the classroom. “You all are doing much better today.”

Better must’ve meant they hadn’t had to call the paramedics, Isabella thought. Of course, if she had to put in another full hour of bending, twisting and sliding down a slippery pole it might be her turn for an emergency room trip.

Cookie, the instructor who looked more comfortable on a stripper pole than walking, glided up beside Isabella and helped her arch her back and extend her leg higher. “That’s it. Just like this.”

Nothing about the supposed erotic pose made Isabella feel the slightest bit sexier and neither did the other class participants, judging by their pained expressions.

“C’mon, ladies. Work with what your momma gave ya.”

Isabella groaned and shot a look over at Waqueisha, the teacher’s pet. “Are you sure all of this is really necessary?”

Waqueisha sprang high onto the pole, flipped upside down and flashed a bright smile. “Oh, yes. When you come back from your honeymoon, you’ll want to name your first kid after me.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Isabella mumbled under her breath.

Somehow, probably through the grace of God, she managed to make it through the rest of the class and collapse into a heap on the floor.

Waqueisha laughed and pulled on Isabella’s arms for her to get up.

“I can’t move. Just leave me here to die.”

“Hey. You’re the one that wanted to do this, remember? We can quit at any time.”

Remembering her humiliation at her own engagement party, quitting wasn’t an option. Whether or not she did go through with this wedding, she vowed to become the kind of woman who knew how to keep her man happy in the bedroom. She wanted to be more than a political trophy.

Isabella released one last groan and then climbed back up onto her ridiculously high-heeled shoes and draped a towel around her sweaty neck.

“That’s m’girl,” Waqueisha praised. “Let’s get you over to Monique’s, so we can pick you out some wonderful lingerie pieces. Nothing says sex kitten like silk and lace.”

Isabella perked. Finally, something fun. After waving goodbyes to their exhausted group, Isabella allowed Waqueisha to pull her out of the workout room and across the gym.

Derrick, drenched in sweat while running five miles on the treadmill, caught a glimpse of a familiar face and temporarily slowed his pace. In a flash, he lost his balance, hit the console and then fell backward on the spinning belt.

Taariq and Charlie, who were running on opposite sides of him, shut off their machines and quickly came to his rescue.

“Dayum, man. Are you all right?” Taariq asked.

Derrick hardly heard them as he peeked around their legs in the direction he had last seen Isabella and then jumped to his feet when he didn’t see her.

On seeing that he was fine, Charlie laughed. “D, I’ve never seen anyone bust their butt like that.”

Their comments drifted in one ear and out the other as Derrick sprinted off to make sure what he’d seen wasn’t a mirage.

Taariq and Charlie looked at each other and then chimed together, “Must be a woman.”

Derrick weaved through treadmills, step machines and one corner of the free weights section in chase after what logic told him was impossible. He made it to the railing that lined the second story gym and peered down to the first floor.

Nothing.

“I must be going crazy,” he chuckled. Turning away, he saw Isabella, rounding a corner on the lower floor. “It can’t be.” Derrick raced down the stairs.

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” a few gym members shouted in his wake.

“Sorry,” he said over his shoulder, but refused to slow down. Derrick caught a glimpse of an outfit: short shorts, halter top...and high heels?

“Hey, wait!” he shouted, but the woman rounded another corner.

Derrick picked up the pace until he was at a full run and then raced through the first door he came upon. Before his brain registered his mistake, sonic waves of hysterical screaming pierced his eardrum.

Shutting his eyes, he performed a 180 and raced back out of the women’s locker room, apologizing the whole way. Once he was safely back out into the hallway and before a long wall of windows, he saw his mysterious woman from Washington, or her look-alike, climb into a SUV. Before he could reach the door, the vehicle peeled out of the parking lot and disappeared into traffic.