A Classic Alpha for Christmas Read online

  A Classic Alpha for

  Christmas

  by Shani Greene-Dowdell

  Chapter One

  Astalia

  A December Wedding

  December 7, 2019

  “Now, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the pastor says, officially joining my cousin and her new husband’s lives together forever. My mother, who is sitting next to me, chooses that moment to rub her finger over her wedding band. Mom then reaches over to take my hand into hers, and a tender moment passes between us as she looks into my eyes.

  I know this reflective gaze, have come to know it very well over the past six months. The agony of losing my father has become a part of her, a part of us. This pain is always somewhere lurking in my mother’s eyes. I never know when it will manifest and bring us both to tears. Watching Rena on her wedding day has sent a freefall of tears to Mom’s timeworn gray eyes. The permanent hurt she has tried to mask with smiles, makeup, and a beautiful dress stares back at me. My heart tightens.

  Thirty years ago, my father vowed to love my mother faithfully, until the end. And he did exactly that. James Morgan Sr. was, and will always be, my everything. From grade school to high school, he was my rock. I can’t recall a time in my life when my father wasn’t there for me. He was the loudest person in the stands when I was on the dance squad. Many people thought he had a son on the football team with the way he loudly and aggressively cheered for me at the home games. His excitement made me dance harder, more precise, and with pride. His encouragement brought me through high school drama, college woes, a master’s degree, and a verbally abusive relationship in my senior year. He gave me sound advice and genuine love through good and bad times. Then, three months after my college graduation, he fell asleep at the wheel while driving home from work. This fatal mistake ended his life and forever changed my world.

  I squeeze Mom’s hand, my small way of letting her know she’s not alone in this journey back to normalcy. She smiles back at me, looks at Rena and Keith, and wipes away another tear with the tissue in her hand. I don’t know how, but I know my mom will make it through this. My father left big shoes to fill, so I hope her heart will at least heal.

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Mom whispers.

  “Yes, she is. She looks gorgeous, Mom,” I admit. The glow around Rena is unlike anything I’ve ever seen on her. Her high cheekbones, light complexion, wavy hair, and the perfect pouty lips women pay good money for are some attributes of her natural beauty that are on full display today.

  “You’d be even prettier up there,” Mom says and winks at me with a small smile that reminds me of the itty bitty fib I have been telling her.

  I drag my eyes away from hers, fearing she’ll be able to see the deceit on my face. “Mom,” is all I say in response.

  Today is one of those days where I should be able to simply be happy for my cousin, but I have to sit here and contemplate my issues with finding love. Mom and I made it this far in the wedding ceremony without her mentioning my love life, but now, it’s time to grin and bear the discomfort of her wanting to know when I’m going to get married. As soon as I find a man, Mom. Let it go, like for real.

  “Soon,” I tell her instead of what I’m thinking. I’ve gotten so good at telling her what she wants to hear that it comes out of my mouth effortlessly.

  Satisfied with the fake hope of planning a wedding soon, she squeezes my hand tightly and smiles at me as if I have made her day. Thankfully, for the remainder of the wedding, she sits beside me quietly. I’m glad when the wedding is over. Events like this make her press me harder than ever about getting married.

  I drive us to The Rooftop Downtown, a beautiful venue where Rena’s favorite light pink colors light up the building. Entering the reception hall, the first thing I notice is each table covered with this beautiful shade of pink and rarely designed brown bouquets sit in the center of each table. Pink drapery hangs from the ceiling, covering the room as if we’re sitting outside under a fairy-like canopy. The majestic feel Rena desires is so alive in this place that I start to believe the lies I’ve been telling my mother. Maybe, my day with a tall and dark chocolate man built like Idris Elba is coming soon.

  When I was a young girl, Mom said every woman should have a love, at one time in life, as meaningful as the one she shared with my father. She still carries that love for him even as his soul rests in heaven—a love that transcends Earth.

  Deep down, I want that, all of it.

  Looking at Rena and Keith work the room, I know my cousin has found it. He looks at her like she single-handedly hung the stars. She stares back at him like she’s willing to be his forever and one more day. I normally shy away from watching people’s public displays of affection, but I can’t take my eyes off the newlyweds as they walk around the room, meeting and greeting everyone. Their affection is natural, not forced. I will accept nothing less, which, according to the men I’ve met in Alabama and Atlanta, is why I’m single.

  Mom and I find the table with our names on it and sit down beside Aunt Carla. I reach over and hug Aunt Carla. She is a dear heart, she is Rena’s mother who is my favorite aunt, and I’m her favorite niece. She makes me feel like I’m good enough just the way I am, has made me feel this way all of my life—always loving and caring, uplifting to a fault. Sitting by her, I feel total comfort and at ease with being who I am—a young, smart black woman who hasn’t found love, and well, hell, it hasn’t found me either.

  I don’t even have any prospects, and I giggle silently at that truth. The irony of Mom thinking I’m near marriage in my single situation is damn near satire. It makes me a little sad that I don’t feel nearly as comfortable sitting next to my mother as I do with Aunt Carla. Expectations are always looming with Mom. I’m not saying she’s wrong to have expectations of me—I am her only daughter. However, sometimes, I just want to sit next to her and not feel under siege.

  She treats my brothers completely the opposite. No matter what they say or do, they get cheek tugs, smiles, and hugs. Then, she sends them back out into the world to wreak havoc on women’s hearts and live half-assed. Well, at least that’s the truth for my oldest brother, James Jr. My twin—Micah and younger brother, Jacobi, treat their women like they have a heart, but James Jr. can give zero cares about his woman. Still, neither of my brothers can do any wrong in Mom’s eyes.

  I glance over at the table where James Jr. is sitting with his fiancé, Melz. He just ‘allegedly’ stopped being a playboy after he turned thirty last month, but the jury is still out on this one. Time will tell. Oh, and did I mention he’s a father of four? Yeah, he bumps that Offset ‘Father of Four’ album as if it’s an accomplishment to have knocked up the sweetest girl I know four times and then proceeded to run around town with all of the hoochies he can find while she’s incubating and mothering his children.

  Looking at my brother, I can see why women let him get away with his games though. James takes after our father. He’s a tall and dark glass of hot chocolate who’s always been able to simply crack a smile and melt hearts. His looks are where his similarities with our father end. He uses women for his gratification and never thinks about what’s best for the family that he keeps adding babies to. My father would never treat a woman the way his earthly twin and carrier of his name does.

  Melz sits beside James Jr., stroking my eight-month-old niece’s back. While she holds Cambria with one hand, she’s feeding two-year-old James III with the other. James Jr. is talking to Jacobi and one of his friends, enjoying a beer and laughing as if he doesn’t have four, stairstep children that Melz could use his help with. I think about going over to help her, but James Jr. has already tol
d me to stay out of their business. Since I know it will be impossible for me to go over there and help without asking him what’s his problem, I stay seated. My eyes go back to the kind-hearted girl who birthed his stable of children. Melz is the definition of a good woman. However, she’s the kind of good woman I never want to become.

  To his credit, James Jr. did finally ask her to marry him a few months ago, and she said yes. She has been with him for over a decade, since their junior year of high school. She hangs in there, waiting for her wedding band for close to twelve years—longer than I would have, for sure. Four children—and a whole lot of dramatics—later, she’s getting her prize. The ring. Whoopie!

  I study James Jr. and Melz, who are both entertaining separate realities. She is being a faithful woman who is nurturing and loving to her family, while James Jr. lives his life with the freedom of a boy fresh out of high school. Is this what Mom wants for me? James Jr. plays enough games with Melz to start his own jumbo gym business while she quietly stands by him, ‘holding him down’. Well, bless her patient heart. I’m not signing up for that kind of treatment.

  Micah, my twin brother, has more of Dad’s spirit in his pinkie finger than his namesake has in his whole body. The only difference between Micah and Dad is that Dad was a blue collar worker, and Micah is a college-educated clinician. Micah received his masters in clinical psychology, while my masters is in project management. He has his own private office, and I work for Clark University’s sports department. Micah and I are both single, but Mom isn’t on Micah as hard as she’s on me about getting married. He still feels the pressure to get married and live up to my father’s name since James Jr. obviously is failing at it miserably.

  Then, there is Jacobi, the baby boy. At twenty-two-years-old, he lives at home with Mom, and he’s still trying to figure out what he wants to do with his life. His current girlfriend, Tanisha, sits beside him five months pregnant with a two-year-old in a booster seat, so it looks like he’s trying to follow James Jr.’s footsteps. What an example. I constantly talk to Jacobi about providing for his family and leaving the video games alone. I’m not sure if I’m getting through to him.

  With the grandchildren James Jr. and Jacobi are producing, Mom has her hands full with grandkids. Yet, she tells me all the time she wants her daughter to have kids so she can babysit as much as she wants, as if I’m going to be handing off my child to her at will.

  I’m pulled from my thoughts by the snap of a picture, signaling that Keith and Rena are making their way to our table. They pause to smile as the photographer snaps another moment they will have in their memory book forever. Rena gazes into Keith’s eyes, and they kiss with his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tight. It’s not one of those ‘okay stop kissing me when the pictures are done’ kisses. He continues to hold her as if he’s unable to let her go when the cameraman moves on to taking pictures of everyone sitting at the table. I crack a smile when Keith finally lets Rena go and she has to catch her balance. The photographer catches my big smile right there in the moment. He’s good. Had I known he was standing there, I would have posed for the picture.

  Aunt Carla touches my arm to get my attention.

  “Astalia, how do you like your new job? Are you still getting accustomed to being in Atlanta?”

  “Yes, I’m still learning the staff here, but the coaches are nice,” I get out before Keith and Rena approach the table, thanking us for coming.

  Mom stands up to give Rena a big hug. She holds her tightly for a long while. “Congratulations, Rena. I’m so happy for you,” she says. “You are the prettiest bride I have ever seen.”

  Rena blushes. “Thanks, auntie.”

  “I’ve been telling her that all day,” Keith chimes in.

  “You are gorgeous, Rena. I taught you something,” I say, standing to hug Rena after Mom.

  She laughs and hits my arm. “Thank you, Stalia. We need to catch up as soon as I get back from my honeymoon. You know, with our annual Christmas shopping spree,” she says close to my ear.

  “We will.” I nod and smile.

  Keith hugs everyone at the table, stopping to hug his new mother-in-law extra-long. “Is everything okay, ladies? Are you comfortable?” he asks Aunt Carla.

  “Yes, everything is lovely,” Aunt Carla says, and everyone at the table nods in agreement.

  Rena deserves the classic type of love Mom is always talking about, and Keith is the prototype for what a husband should be—handsome, chivalrous, and hardworking. I hope God didn’t break the mold with him.

  “Where is your boyfriend today? This would have been a nice event for him to attend,” Mom hints. “You guys have been together four months, and I still haven’t seen him.”

  I cringe at the thought that she’s been counting the days me and my phantom boyfriend have been together. I have given descriptive details about this man. I told her he was a handsome college professor, and I would give her more details about him when we get really serious. But as far as she knows, he’s clean-cut, dark-skinned, muscular, and dresses to the nines. He also opens doors, cooks, and wrecks lives in the bedroom. I haven’t shared the bedroom wrecking part with her, but I figure since I’m building my own man, I might as well make him prolific.

  “It’s not time yet, Mom.”

  “Well, I’m not taking any more excuses. Invite him to Christmas dinner and bring him over to meet me.”

  “I— I don’t know if…he’s—avail…”

  “Bring him, Stalia. I’m not going to bite him, and neither are your brothers. Stop acting like we’re going to do something to embarrass you. We are your family. Bring the man home for Christmas!”

  “It’s not that, Mom. It’s just that...” I don’t have anyone to bring home, I want to tell her, but now is not the time to come clean.

  “What is it then?”

  “Nothing. I’ll bring him,” I relent, my mouth running on autopilot and my heart beating out of my chest. Why in the hell did I just tell her I’m bringing him home as if I even know who he is? My chest tightens so much after that admission, I can’t breathe. I start coughing and reaching for my water glass.

  “Are you okay, Stalia?” Mom and Aunt Carla ask together. The worried looks on their faces scare me even more.

  No, I am not okay. Mom is going to kill me when she finds out the truth. My aunt rubs my back as my mother stares at me suspiciously.

  “Did you choke on something?” Mom asks.

  Only my words.

  “No, I’m fine. I just got hot all of a sudden. I don’t know why, but I’ve been having hot flashes lately.” That part isn’t a lie. A hot flash runs through me every time Mom demands I produce my made-up man, and this time she’s demanding him within three weeks. “I think I should go lay down,” I say and look at Aunt Carla. “If I leave, will you be able to drop Mom off back at home?”

  “You’re leaving?” Mom asks with a surprised expression.

  “Yes, I’m going to go lay down.”

  “I will be glad to drop you off when the reception is over, Skyler. Let her go lay down. She looks like she’s stressed to the max,” Aunt Carla tells Mom. “And you, Stalia. Don’t be letting anything stress you out. You’re too young for that. I’m going to call you later.”

  “Okay, thanks Aunt Carla,” I say, standing up and grabbing my purse before heading to the door without looking at my mother’s reaction. To satisfy her, I need a dark and sexy Prince Charming by Christmas day. Problem is, there is no prince in sight. Hell, I don’t even have a potential frog.

  I walk out of the building doing my best to keep my head up so no one will ask me if something is wrong with me. I smile at a few family members and wave, but I reach the door without any family members stopping me. I exhale a deep breath and lean against the wall near the exit.

  “Lord, what am I going to do? Please tell me what I should do,” I plead with God, the universe, mother nature, all listening ears to help me with my dilemma.

  When I inhale, a full
breath of Versace Eros takes over my senses. I love the smell of that cologne. One of the coaches at Clark wears it, and it does something to me every time I inhale it.

  A tall and dark man is standing in front of the door with one hand on the knob. He’s wearing a light blue suit tailored to fit his tight body, and trust me, it is hitting him in all the right places. The pants are fitted just enough to show that he needs extra room in his midsection. Don’t ask why my eyes drifted there. Moving back to safer parts of him, I notice his white shirt and red and blue tie are crisp. A white cashmere wool scarf drapes his neck. I try not to stare at him too long, but it’s not every day I stumble across a man so fine and so well dressed. This man matches all the details I’ve been drawing up in my mind for my fake boyfriend.

  He licks his lips and asks, “Are you okay, beautiful?”

  I look around to see who he could be speaking to, and no one else is out there. “Are you talking to me?” I ask.

  “Yeah. You’re the only beautiful one out here, right?” he remarks, tilting his head down at an angle so he can see over what have to be a pair of Prada shades for men. He has impeccable taste.

  I smile. “I guess I am. Are you here for the wedding?”

  I am seconds away from pointing to the entrance he needs to go through to meet up with the rest of my family, so that I can end the torture of standing there awkwardly looking into his eyes.

  He cuts me off. “Is that your nice way of blowing me off? You can do much better than that.”

  “Huh? No, I’m not, uh— I was just going to help you find the reception.”

  “Trust me, I know that move.” He laughs. “It’s the ‘that way’ brush a sucker off move. You can’t pull that on me, beautiful.”

  Busted, I smile again. “I just have a lot on my mind. Sorry.”

  “Listen, I made you smile twice, so my job is done. No need to be sorry.” He starts to walk in, but turns back toward me. “Will I see you inside?”