Fool and Her Honey (9781622860791) Read online

  I hoped Dina would be in a talking mood once she got to my house so she could tell me a little more about Hamilton.

  “Slow your roll, homegirl,” I coached myself out loud, knowing how quickly in the past I had thrown myself wholeheartedly into a relationship mess. “Don’t be so quick to take a dive.”

  “So, Dina, give me the rundown on Hamilton.” I couldn’t help myself. I attacked her as soon as she stepped both feet inside my condo.

  “What do you want to know?” she answered, then immediately turned her attention to her cell phone, having received a text that obviously required her immediate attention. She was silent for several seconds as her thumbs went to work on a response, but she didn’t circle back around to what I’d asked once she dropped her phone in her purse. “Lawd! These shoes were killing me today. Woo-weee!”

  I waited for her to get back to me after she eased her feet out of her heels and wiggled her toes, but she acted like I hadn’t asked anything at all. Let me give it a few minutes, I thought. Maybe she needed to get some food in her system to get her brain cells going.

  “This chicken wrap is so good, girl. What all is in it?” She stuffed her mouth with another bite, then jumped up from the table and flew to the door, stating that she needed to get somebody’s phone number from her car.

  One thing that irritated me about Dina was she knew how to be conveniently distracted to keep from answering questions. I could give her church and worship time, but now that we were sitting at my dining room table and she didn’t have tears rolling down her face, I expected her to start talking.

  “Dina, stop ignoring me,” I practically whined when she returned from her car.

  “Ignoring you about what?” she asked, thumbing through her phone. “Oh, let me text Sister Edmonds while my mind is on it.”

  Oh, now her ass had forgotten. Dina could be really self-absorbed sometimes. Whatever. I’d just find out for myself.

  Chapter 3

  Celeste

  Believe it or not, the best part of my day was getting out of my own home and going to work just so I could get away from my husband for eight hours, and I didn’t even like my job that much. The best part of his day was probably seeing me leave, because he’d have the next eight hours to do what he did best when he was between jobs—absolutely nothing. That was how it had been for every single year of our marriage. Maybe I could make it through one more day.

  With a sigh, I sat up and planted my feet on the floor. I was about to get up for the day, leaving Equanto on his side of the bed, snoring as usual. I had only a few minutes to myself in the bathroom to take care of my personal business and get dressed before I’d have the kids on my heels with their daily breakfast, getting dressed, and their school drop-off routine. If I expected to enjoy my cup of coffee in peace this morning, I needed to hustle.

  Before I stood up, I reached toward the foot of the bed, grabbed my robe, slipped my arms into the sleeves, and pulled it around my body. I didn’t want Equanto to crack his eyes and catch sight of my almost naked body on my way to the bathroom. Every time he saw me even partially undressed, he would make some kind of comment in reference to my weight, not to mention the faces he made when he saw me butt-bald naked.

  I knew I needed to lose some weight, and by some, I meant at least one hundred pounds, as my current weight was right at two fifty-six. That was what having babies could do to a woman. That, and my worst catch-22 ever, which was when I didn’t feel good about my weight, I got depressed, and when I got depressed, I ate a lot. Then, when I ate a lot, I gained weight, and when I gained weight, I didn’t feel good about it.

  It wasn’t like I didn’t try to control it; I did. Seemed like every other day, I was trying to be on a diet: a restriction diet, calorie counting, the watermelon diet, the no-carbs diet, the rice diet, Atkins, Jenny Craig, the Master Cleanse, HCG drops. You name it, I’d tried it at least for a day or two, but I’d never been successful, because I just loved good food. I loved the way it tasted and how it felt in my mouth. It was comforting to me when my world was in disarray, which was most of the time.

  Nothing made me feel as good as a great plate of food: some fried chicken, candied yams, butter beans with bacon cooked in, homemade macaroni and cheese, corn bread, buttery biscuits, coconut cake, deep fried pies, chocolate chip cookies.... I could go on forever. A few pieces of carrot and a handful of grapes with a boiled egg and a cup of yogurt didn’t do a thing for me but make me cranky and irritable. I had enough drama going on in my home without me contributing to it with rabbit-style eating habits.

  To make sure my day was off to a good start, I planned to cook the kids homemade waffles topped with strawberry preserves, scrambled eggs with cheese, and sausage. The kind that came in a plastic roll and had to be formed into patties by hand, then fried up in a pan. Lawd, that was some good eating right there! I hurried through my shower to give me enough time to cook before I had to get the kids on the school bus.

  It took about ten minutes of quick cooking to create an aroma powerful enough to call my boys out of their sleep. Linwood padded into the kitchen first, rubbing his eyes.

  “Good morning, Mommy,” he mumbled, throwing his arms around my waist when he reached me.

  “Good morning, baby. You hungry?”

  “Yes. I was dreaming that I was eating pancakes, and then I woke up.”

  “How about waffles instead?”

  “Yummy!” He smiled, looking over at the waffle maker to check the ready light indicator. “Is it ready yet?”

  “Go wash your face and brush your teeth and wake your brothers up. Then you can eat.”

  Once the three of them, Linwood, Quincy, and Jerrod, were seated and eating, I rushed to my bedroom and pulled on a pair of elastic-waist black pants and a camisole, curled my hair, and threw on some makeup. My favorite royal blue blouse was laid out on the back of a chair today. The office staff at the realty company I worked at as an admin had to take new badge pictures, and the blouse went well with my skin tone and made me look radiant . . . and not so big, which was good for photos.

  “You make me a plate?” Equanto asked, still reclining in bed but reaching over to the nightstand to get the TV remote.

  Oh God, he was up.

  “No, but there’s some in there on the stove when you get ready to eat,” I answered, not looking at him, but instead pulling at my eyes to apply my eyeliner.

  “Okay, I’m ready to eat now.”

  “Great. The kitchen is in the same place as it was last night when you went to bed, E. I know you remember where it is.”

  “So you can’t serve your man?”

  “Are you going to get the kids dressed?”

  “How long is it gonna take you to put some food on a plate and bring it in here?” he asked, disregarding my question.

  “It’ll take me no time today, because I’m not going to do it.”

  “See? That’s messed up right there.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” I walked out of the bedroom to tend to the children, leaving him mumbling words that I’d rather not hear under his breath. I’d heard them all before, anyway. He was just calling me names, and I didn’t have time to get my emotions all worked up this morning.

  While I dressed the kids, Equanto yelled from the bedroom, “I’m ’bout to get dressed and I’ma need the car today, so don’t leave me. I’ll drop you off at work.”

  “What do you need the car for, Equanto?”

  “I got some things to do today,” he said, appearing in the doorway of the boys’ room, bare-chested and in his boxers.

  “Like what?”

  I already knew that he had nothing to do but wreak havoc on our lives, both mine and his own. We’d been through this type of thing a million times before. Whenever he needed to use the car, something crazy would happen. Crazy like one time he’d been on the way to give the landlord the rent money. He stopped by the convenience store to get a soda and left the money on the front seat of the car, because he forgot abou
t it. When he came back out, the money was gone. Crazy like as soon as he cashed his check, some dudes came up to the car while he was at a traffic light, held a gun to his head, and demanded his wallet Then they took all the money out and threw the wallet back in the car, hitting him in the face with it. Crazy like he made a mistake and left the front door unlocked when he went to the grocery store. When he came back, someone had come in the house and had taken all the boys’ video games but had left the rest of the house intact. Hell, no, he wasn’t getting the car.

  “I need to go check on this job one of my boys told me about that pays more money than the one I was trying to get.”

  “Just call them, because you’re not getting this car.”

  “Call them?” He crinkled his brows. “Don’t nobody be taking job applications over the phone no more.”

  “Well, I don’t know what you’re gonna do, then.” I shrugged, pushing past him to put my blouse on and complete my look. The two minutes it took me to put on my blouse and throw on some accessories were the same two minutes it took my husband to grab and hide my keys and my cell phone. He watched me circle the house, turning stuff upside down in a complete panic, having a cussin’, screaming fit for twenty minutes, while he lay back on the bed, watching BET.

  “I gotta go to work, E. Stop playing!” I was on my last and final leg at work for being late and having to miss work, and I was in no position to lose my job.

  “Ain’t nobody playing. Get your ass out there and catch the bus if you gotta leave.”

  “You know damn well that’s gonna make me late for work!” If I didn’t get out of that house in the next two minutes, I’d never make it to downtown Phoenix in time for work.

  “I told you, I don’t know what you did with them.”

  “It’s not about what I did with them. It’s what you did with them.”

  “I ain’t had ’em,” he lied.

  I knew he was lying, and it didn’t take me long to become frustrated and angry and to burst into tears. I called Candis, hoping her day wasn’t jam-packed with appointments. She heard how upset I was, so I didn’t have to say much to get her to pick me and the kids up willingly, drop me off at work, and take my boys to school, but by the time I got to work, it was too late. I’d already been written up quite a few times for being late, and most of the time it was for this same type of mess, and by me being late and not calling, my boss had no more tolerance. He had termination papers waiting on me when I got there, forty-five minutes past my scheduled start time.

  I didn’t call Candis back for a ride a second time. I cried first as I walked to the bus stop. Then, instead of going home, where I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to control my emotions enough to keep from killing my husband, I took the bus that would drop me off near Golden Corral.

  Chapter 4

  Candis

  Hamilton was the first person I looked for when I got to the church grounds that Saturday, pretending to be interested in the community outreach function. I couldn’t have cared less, actually, but whatever would bring me closer to getting to know Hamilton, I was willing to do. Dina and I got there early enough to help set up some tents and booths and hang out some clothes that were being sold. I made myself busy with those tasks until finally, the man I hoped to get a little face time with drove up in a late-model silver Mercedes and parked in the lot.

  He stepped out, looking as gorgeous as a Hawaiian sunset, dressed in tan khaki cargo shorts, a dark blue polo shirt, and a matching pair of canvas deck shoes. His calves, shoulders, and forearms bulged with muscles that bragged of his apparent workout schedule. I tried not to stare the man down, but I couldn’t help myself. Every time I tried looking away, my eyes found their way right back to wherever he was.

  Hamilton soon joined a few other brothers, slapping hands with them and sharing a casual chuckle, then helping them clear a path for the car wash, which would be adjacent to where the yard sale tables had been positioned. Wanting to make sure that I wouldn’t be assigned to a place farther away from him, like the hot dog stand or the kiddie area, I found the biggest box of miscellaneous items that I could and offered to sort, price, and set them out on tables.

  “Chile, thank you so much, ’cause I shole didn’t wanna be the one to have to go through this stuff,” said the older woman who was heading up the yard sale section.

  “Whatever I can do to help.” And get next to Hamilton. “I don’t mind at all.”

  Now, I didn’t throw myself at the man’s feet, but from behind my shades, I treated myself to a glance every chance I got as I placed things on various tables, trying to think up a way either to get him to notice me or to approach him and not seem too obvious. I couldn’t go ask him anything, because our workstations were too different and it just didn’t make sense. The only thing I could think of was to “make a mistake” and knock a table over. With that in mind, I went to work placing items on four different tables, one for knickknacks, one for books, tapes, CDs, and DVDs, one for dishes, and one for pots and pans, which would be my “turnover” table. The only thing was it took me close to an hour to get my stunt set up, and by the time I did, I was as sweaty as a hound dog and tired of digging through boxes of other people’s gently used trash.

  I wished I had just waited until Hamilton had arrived to see where he was going to be working, then made myself available for that particular task. No doubt there were Daisy Duke and wife beater–clad women on the car wash team, bending over to fill buckets, scrub tires, wring out rags, and spray water on each other. They looked like they were having hot fun in the summertime while they worked, while I looked like somebody’s greasy momma tryin’a unpack after a move.

  I hadn’t quite figured out exactly how I was going to knock this table over inconspicuously to get Hamilton’s attention, but when I saw him playfully chasing this female with super-bouncy titties around the parking lot after she sprayed him with water, it was game on. I wasn’t just gonna sit back and let her take all of my new man’s attention.

  Quickly, I made my move to retrieve another box of goods, not too big but not too small. I carried it over to my “noisy” table, pretended to try to sit it down, but intentionally rammed the table with it, and successfully toppled the table over. Oh, I got Hamilton’s attention, all right! What I wasn’t counting on was that I would actually lose my footing and tumble over the table, still holding on to the box for dear life, my ass landing inside a wok while I was clunked in the head with the top half of a double broiler. Like I’d intended, I drew plenty of attention to myself. Except, now I was deathly embarrassed, sitting on the grass in a sea of cookware. I had one flip-flop on and the other waiting to be located. My sunglasses were tilted on my face, and I had gotten an instant headache

  “Oh, Lawd, oh, Lawd, ha’ mercy!” I heard an older female hollering while I tried to scramble to my feet. I did see Hamilton and a few other men rushing over, and while a couple of them set the table upright again, Hamilton reached for my hand to help me up off the ground.

  “You all right, sista?” he asked, trying to hold back a laugh while he helped me up.

  “I think so,” I answered, my voice trembling and my knees wobbling. Nothing was hurt but my pride, but when I tried to stand, I came up with the idea to fake an ankle injury and cry out in pain and fall against Hamilton.

  “I got you. I got you,” he said, reacting with precision and supporting my weight with his strong arms and chest.

  Good God almighty, that man felt good against my body! Thank you, Jesus! I thought. You hooked a sista up!

  “Are you okay? What hurts?” he asked, quickly scanning down my body.

  “My ankle,” I moaned with a fake grimace. “Owww! I’m so sorry.”

  “No, no, don’t apologize. Let’s get you a chair. Do we have some ice anywhere?” He motioned to another brother with a head nod to go over to one of the food stations to retrieve some ice.

  I’d never faked an injury before, but I had to give it to myself. I was pretty good a
t it. I put an arm around Hamilton’s shoulders, preparing to hop to the nearest chair, and I almost melted when he circled an arm around my waist and easily swept me up into his arms. Why couldn’t the chair be way across the churchyard? After taking a few steps, Hamilton eased me to the ground and helped me get settled on the chair.

  “Thank you so much. Umm . . . what’s your name again?”

  “Hamm.”

  “Thank you so much, Hamm. I’m Candis, by the way.” Instead of trying to shake his hand, like we’d done at our first meeting, I grabbed for my ankle to continue my charade.

  “Well, Ms. Candis, I hope you’re okay.” He stooped down at my feet and lifted my foot into his hand. “Let me take a look at it,” he said, tilting his head as he inspected my ankle and rubbing it slightly.

  “Ssssss,” I said with an inhale, and not because it hurt, but because his hands felt so damn good on my skin.

  “Hurts, huh?”

  “Whew!” I said, instead of straight-out lying.

  “Girl, what happened to you?” Dina asked, coming up from wherever she’d been.

  “I think I sprained my ankle.”

  “Doing what?” she asked.

  “I don’t even know how it happened.” Now, that part was true. How in the world did I trip over my own two feet and practically flip over a table?

  “By the time Hamm finishes putting his sports therapy on you, I’m sure you will be okay,” Dina assured me.

  “You’re a physical therapist?” I asked, grinning inside.

  “Yeah. I work with the Cardinals,” he answered, referencing Arizona’s National Football League team.

  Oh yeah! This dude was just what I was looking for. He was handsome, he had money, he had a solid career, and he didn’t mind nurturing a woman. Suddenly, my tumble over the table was worth every bit of embarrassment.