The quick trip down memory lane reminded me of how much I loved that five-foot-eleven, bow-legged, muscular in all the right places, pretty brown-skinned brother. Dried tears on my cheeks cracked as a genuine smile crept up on my face. I spoke again to my sister.
“You just don’t know, girl. My body craves his touch constantly. I love that man. But the truth of the matter is that he needs to touch me soon, or I cannot and will not be responsible for what happens next!” I laughed.
I took a look around at all of our h
igh-end possessions that I couldn’t make love to, laugh at a funny joke with, or sit beside on the couch to watch a comedy show with on the flat screen TV. Also, when it was all said and done, I couldn’t get any love from the chinchilla coat or Chanel pumps when I was old and in my rocking chair.
There I was married to the biggest baller in town. He was fine and knew his way around the bedroom, if you know what I mean. Yet, of late, I couldn’t get anything to jump off between us. Trust and believe, I had tried everything to get it on and popping, too.
From the assortment of Victoria Secret lingerie, sex creams, flavored panties, and flavored body powder to the swing I had installed in the shower a few weeks ago, I had done everything in my power to set the table for a love feast. However, Mr. Wilson wasn’t available for dinner, apparently.
The whole ordeal had me completely drained. I walked through the kitchen into the den and sat on the plush leather sectional sofa. Its warmth and comfort was to be the only intimacy I’d be receiving tonight apparently. Rhonda seemed to be at a loss for words, so I said, “Girl, last week I was so horny that I thought about getting my creep on. If I didn’t have every eye in town watching me like a hawk, I swear my groove would be back by now. Not saying cheating is what I want, but a woman has needs.”
"Don’t get drastic, Shay. Please don't be thinking about cheating, and please don’t give T a hard time when he gets home, either. From experience, you know that when you stress him out he just stays away longer, which means we have to have more of these conversations. Just give him a chance to explain." Rhonda calmly spoke up in Titus’ defense.
"You always take his side. The man hasn’t so much as called me, Ronnie, and I have hit him on his cell ten times already, and guess what?”
“He didn't answer?”
“Bingo! And this is really getting old." I stretched out on my back on the buttery leather sofa, staring at the ceiling while I held the phone to my ear.
"Yes, but think about the end, when he doesn't have to hustle like this anymore. You’re already living larger than you’d ever imagined. Remember in high school when you said that by thirty you would have a three-story home with a Denali sitting beside the hottest sports car in your four-car garage?”
“Yes, I remember that. I also said that by thirty, me and my perfect hubby would have traveled the world over and would start working on a family. A lot has changed since high school, so that doesn’t have any relevance anymore.”
“Okay, well, you said it yourself that these next few licks could lock the whole game up for good. You'll be able to appreciate those long trips and long hours away from home when your pockets blow up like an atomic bomb. Start a family and travel the world on that! Trust me when I say these other niggas, and bitches too, wish they something going like T.”
If I knew one thing for sure and two things for certain, it was that Rhonda always had a stack full of explanations and could see the good in everything Titus did. It wasn’t just Titus though, she loved everything street.
She would say, "He's a baller. Girl, don't lose your good thing. You should be glad for what he does for you. Don't be worrying that man about that. He's this… he's that…"
Giving that we’d been friends since grade school, I never felt the need to question her judgment. Ronnie was part of the reason I had put up with Titus as long as I had. That and the fact that Titus would probably kill me before he would ever let me go. Plus, to my chagrin, I loved him beyond repair.
"Well, girl, I'm going to let you go. No need in both of us having a depressing Friday night,” I said.
“Imagine that,” Ronnie laughed.
“Whatever, chica. I'm sure you're about to get your club on or get into something fun."
I wished I could get my club on right alongside her, too, but I would never hear the end of it. Titus said it was best that his wifey not be out clubbing – unless I was on his side, of course. He forbade me from going out with friends unless the outing was pre-approved by him. Even then, he would likely send one of his goon heads to follow me for monitoring and safety measures, especially since there had been several shootings recently with the targets being members of his close family. He felt someone was deliberately trying to take out a few of his team members.
Rhonda softened up, saying, "No, actually sweetie, I had a little company earlier, so I'm going to be getting some much needed rest.”
"It was that good, huh? Anyone that can keep ‘Ronnie the Diva’ away from Club Diamond on a Friday night must be the-man-twenty-grand.”
We both laughed at my corny joke. Rhonda began to speak, but I cut her off.
"Let me guess. Is it Curtis Jackson?”
Instead of answering the question, Ronda sighed exhaling a long breath.
I said, “Well, don't be all secretive. Give up the goods, who is he? Do I know him?"
"Let's not get into all that, Miss Thang. I will tell you all about him one day, though. Listen, I'll talk to you tomorrow. I’m tired as hell and got to get my beauty rest for shopping tomorrow," Rhonda said.
"Coo..." I had started to say, “Cool, let’s start our shopping spree at ten,” but the dial tone blaring through the phone stopped me mid-sentence.
I pressed the button to turn off the phone and wondered what could be up with Rhonda. Her sudden shortness was odd, but I didn’t give it a second thought. I had my own problems to deal with, like Mr. Titus and his whereabouts.