Sugar Page 4

  Her computer chimed right on time, alerting her to his call. She clicked on the icon, and his handsome face appeared on the screen.

  “Hey you,” she practically sang, grinning.

  “Hey baby,” Jake said, smiling too. “Damn, I miss you.”

  Diana laughed. Actually, it was more like a giggle, which was extremely uncharacteristic, but whatever. He had that effect on her.

  Jake Randolph had changed her in one night. One lovely, nourishing, safe night, where all he did was hold her. That was it. Diana had planned on leaving Rhino early the next morning, but she didn’t wake up until after three that next day, in his arms. Who knew that was all it took? That and some therapy from Loren to start to mending wounds that she thought would never heal.

  He had told her that she needed to make him earn the right to be with her, and he’d been working hard ever since - calling and sending flowers and just listening when she needed someone to talk to or going on and on about the small-town drama in Rhino, while she listened and laughed.

  “So, how’s it feel to be commentating alongside the big dogs?” he asked.

  “Well, you know,” she said, rocking her head from side to side.

  “Did you kill it?”

  “I absolutely did!” she bragged.

  Jake laughed, then gloated. “That’s my baby.”

  “Oh, hold on. Someone’s at the door. I’ll be right back.”

  “You expecting anybody?” he asked, concerned.

  The cop in him was overly protective, even all the way from Texas.

  “No, but, I’ll be fine. Now, if you hear me scream…”

  “Don’t play,” he said, in all seriousness.

  She quickly slipped into an oversized sweatshirt, hurried to the door and looked out through the peephole. Diana screamed.

  “What? Baby?” she heard him call from the computer.

  She swung open the door, jumped into Jake’s strong arms, and smothered his face with kisses.

  “Be—careful, D! He—might—be—dangerous,” he said between kisses.

  “Oh, God, I hope so,” she exclaimed.

  Sugar Ain’t So Sweet

  Cane Sugar

  Naleighna Kai

  Chapter 1

  I will die if I stay here …

  Shannon’s entire family sat at the dinner table enjoying a meal which took her three hours to prepare, while she mowed the jungle of their front yard, seething the entire time. She stopped to empty the bag but froze when her mother-in-law’s voice carried from the open pantry window, “I had to fake a damn heart attack to make this stupid heifer get with the program.”

  Faked a heart attack? Wait. What?

  Monique Hallerin had faked that entire one-month ordeal so Shannan would take over the daunting task of shopping, preparing, cooking, then serving Sunday dinners for fifteen people every week, only to criticize nearly everything that Shannan did. Faked it so Shannan’s husband, Zach, would pick up the slack on her bills. All while her brothers-in-law and most of her children parked their lazy behinds at the dining room table every Sunday and didn’t lift a finger to help. Shannan was way past tired—exhausted was a better word.

  “Guests don’t wash dishes,” her husband said when she mentioned they could pitch in with clean up. Well, to be honest, neither did he and he hadn’t been a guest since they’d said, “I do.”

  What she should’ve said on the day they were married, fifteen years ago was, “I don’t,” then ran past his overbearing mother and four shiftless brothers then out the church doors to freedom.

  “I had to fake a damn heart attack to make this stupid heifer get with the program.”

  Shannan, who had seven children of her own, was now responsible for duties that her mother-in-law had done for most of her non-married life; catering to those grown ass men sitting at her dining room table at this very moment while Shannan was outside doing something she had first asked her husband, then one of them, to do.

  Rage hit Shannan full force.

  She staggered away from the mower, rushed into the house, ran up the stairs and snatched up her tote. She halted at the threshold of her bedroom for a moment, extracting the small shoebox in the back of the closet. A set of credit cards, passport, birth certificate, social security card, and all the hidden cash found its way into the tote. She glanced at the summer wardrobe spilling over into Zach’s side and decided there wasn’t anything she wanted to take. She tipped down the rear stairway into the kitchen, snatched the keys from a hook near the door to put as much distance between herself and those people as possible.

  Shannan only vaguely heard the youngest of her seven children call her name. Her heart constricted as she ignored them, tears blinding her as she slid behind the wheel of an SUV that was almost a second home. Basketball. Volleyball. Football. Gymnastics. PTA. Never any breaks between or any time for her to simply breathe.

  I will die if I stay here.

  Those seven words came to mind, summarizing her current status. Something that first hit her when she had the argument with Zach before his family arrived …

  “No, my brothers shouldn’t have to wash a dish in my house,” Zachary had protested without bothering to look up from the current prosthetics project spread out over the basement. “My mother spent a week in the hospital and she can’t handle it anymore. This dinner is how we stay close. I don’t see what the problem is.”

  “The problem is, that it’s all too much,” she replied, putting aside her own work on the latest puzzle she was creating for the daily newspaper to focus more on the conversation that was long overdue. “I’m beginning to dread Sundays. I don’t have any day of rest.”

  “Well, if you gave up that job you’ve been playing at then you wouldn’t be so tired all the time,” he quipped.

  “I shouldn’t have to give up anything,” she shot back. He’d always considered the six figures she made from being a Master Cruciverbalist—crossword puzzle creator—frivolous. His career as a prosthetist brought in just under what she did. There had been a bone of contention on that score.

  “Then it looks like you’re going to be busy.” Zachary shrugged. “You’ll be alright.”

  “Wouldn’t have to be so busy if you and the boys helped around here,” she countered.

  “My mother raised five boys on her own and never complained,” he said, keeping his focus on the circuitry in his hands.

  “And she was on her own because she ran your father off,” she replied. “Let’s be real about that.”

  Zachary’s face twisted into a mask of annoyance as he glared at her. “I can’t talk about this with you.”

  “I’m done talking. I’m tired,” she snapped. “There’s going to come a time when I say to hell with it.”

  Zach paused at the end of the wooden bench, scoffing as he asked, “And where are you going to go? Who’s going to be a father to seven children?”

  “They have a father,” she said, and the sorrow of her reality was heavy indeed. “I need a husband.”

  The moment Shannan hit the expressway, she wiped her tears with the back of a trembling hand. A startling thought hit her. She could not

  Chapter 2

  Shannan popped a U-turn and aimed her car in the direction of the house. “Call London.”

  The car’s hands-free connection put her on the line with her baby girl. “Sweetheart, step out of the dining room so you can hear me.”

  “Yes ma’am,” London said, though she could barely be heard over the usual debate going on with Zach and his brothers.

  “Listen to me well,” Shannan said, pushing the car to right above the posted speed limit. “In five minutes, get Kriss, walk out of the back door and—”

  “Mom, what’s going on?”

  “In five minutes,” Shannan repeated in a sterner tone. “Get Kriss and both of you walk out of the back door and meet me in the driveway. Do not tell anyone.”

  “Mom?”

  “Do you understand me?”

>   “Yes ma’am,” she whispered.

  “I’ll be there soon.”

  Twenty-three minutes later, Shannan sat on the chaise part of a micro suede sectional across from her mother, Jackie, a feisty woman with cinnamon-kissed skin and short curly hair. A woman who had been banished from the family home by Shannan’s Irish father when he, a wealthy oil magnate, demanded that she serve up some of his rich friends in the same way he was able to sample their wives.

  Jackie left that night taking Shannan and her twin, heading back home to Atlanta to heal her wounds. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only hurt he would inflict. The ugly court battle cost Jackie hundreds of thousands only to have the Chicago courts side with her ex-husband, his money and power.

  She lost all rights to her girls and Ernest Breckenridge did everything in his power to eliminate Jackie from their lives. When Shannan turned twelve, she sought her mother out and established a secret relationship with the woman who was never far from her heart and mind. Her twin, Megan, did not feel the same.

  As London and Kriss took in a movie in one of the upstairs bedrooms, Jackie listened closely to Shannan’s issues with the marriage, without commenting, as Shannan explained that she was done.

  “I always wanted your happiness,” Jackie admitted, grabbing a shot glass and a bottle of Fireball from the liquor cabinet. “Regardless of what you thought.”

  “You never liked him.”

  “I liked him before you got married. After that, I tolerated him for your sake,” she admitted, holding up a second shot glass and quirking a brow when Shannan shook her head to decline. “And I don’t have to like him. I’m not the one who’s married to him. I voiced my concern early on.”

  “One time.”

  “That should’ve been enough.” she said, taking a sip and grimacing. “I said from day one that his family’s influence would be much too strong for a happy marriage. That you should move to another city when that opportunity came, and you would’ve had a chance.”

  “I listened,” Shannan whispered. “but evidently I didn’t hear you.”

  Jackie placed a hand over Shannan’s. “You were determined to have him, no matter what I observed. He wasn’t like that in the beginning, but with the unnecessary input from that wench and those hooligans, he became selfish from the moment you walked down the aisle. Every time you let him chip away at anything you wanted, you became more a part of him and less of you.” Her dark brown eyes scanned Shannan from head to toe. “Evidently, it kept going until there was no more of you to give. It’s been painful to watch you sacrifice so much and receive so little; all because you believe that your entire life should be wrapped up in him, trying to prove something you didn’t need to prove—that you were Black enough despite your pale skin. Black school. Black man. Black children. All as a way to reconnect with that part of me that was missing all those years.”

  While trying to process that hard truth, Shannan extracted her mother’s glass from her hands.

  Jackie lightly slapped Shannan’s fingers. “Hey, get your own,” she teased as she reclaimed her drink.

  Instead, Shannan swiped the bottle and took a swig straight from the source.

  “You used everything in your power to make him happy, despite the fact that he stopped putting forth the effort to make you happy.” Jackie slid the bottle out of Shannan’s reach. “When a man’s mother has that much of a hold on him, it’s a battle to get her to loosen up. And that wench has a Kung Fu grip. She never wanted to let go, and the truth be told he never wanted her to let go.”

  Jackie reached out for Shannan, who willingly went into her arms. She laid her head on her mother’s shoulder as the older woman said, “I love my grandchildren, but I know the reason they’re here and it isn’t because they were wanted.” She let that settle in for a moment. “You only wanted two children, regardless of gender. You had five more because he demanded you keep going until he had that girl child he demanded. So now there are five additional casualties of this marriage.”

  She paused, then asked. “Does he know how successful your editing business has become?”

  “No.”

  “Thank God for that,” she said easing off the sofa and stretching. “And you put that money in your private account as I suggested?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Some of it’s in emergency cash. I’m holding it right now.”

  “See, I did raise you right.” Jackie lifted her glass in salute. “How long are you going to stay away?

  “I don’t know,’ she answered, perturbed she hadn’t given much thought to anything other than to get gone. “What bothers me is that I don’t feel any guilt. I’m so numb.”

  Jackie placed an arm about Shannan’s shoulder. “It’s alright, honey. Right now, focus on getting some rest and figuring out what you want your life to be like from this point forward. The babies will be safe with me.”

  Shannan looked up, tears making it nearly impossible to see. “Mom, am I a horrible person for leaving my children this way?”

  “You’re trying to be a sane person,” she said, lips lifting in a small smile. “And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Chapter 3

  Shannan stretched out on the king-size bed of the one-bedroom suite at the Hyatt Lake Shore. She closed her eyes, secure in the fact that her two youngest children were with her mother and they would be fine. Soon the image shifted to picturing Zach and his brothers at their weekly all-night Monopoly game.

  The cell vibrated from an incoming message.

  WHERE ARE YOU? Zachary texted. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?

  No amount of talking had produced the long-lasting results she desired. Now she no longer cared. In her mind, her marriage was over. The simple thought of those words was so profound, it lifted a weight from her heart.

  I’D LIKE A DIVORCE, she answered. I’M MEETING WITH AN ATTORNEY FIRSTTHING NEXT WEEK. YOU CAN HAVE EVERYTHING IN THE HOUSE, THE KIDS, THE CAR, THE ACCOUNTS, EVERYTHING. I WANT PEACE OF MIND AND MY FREEDOM.

  The text disappeared, and his face and number took up the screen. She swiped an index finger across the glass to reject the call.

  WHAT THE HELL? DIVORCE? CALL ME. WHY AREN’T YOU PICKING UP?

  BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE TO - she responded - I’M ONLY RESPONDING TO THIS TEXT BECAUSE YOU SENT OVER THIRTY-NINE OF THEM.

  ARE YOU WITH ANOTHER MAN?

  She dialed to connect with him. “I barely have time to spread my thighs for you, let alone have time for anyone else. I would’ve left you long before that happened. I respect my vows.”

  “Evidently, you don’t,” he snarled. She could tell that he was barely hanging on to his temper. “It says for better or for worse.”

  Sprawled on top of the comforter, she focused on the ceiling. “Yes, and it said or. All I’ve been getting for the past few years is the worst part. I’m tired. Just like your mother got tired and found a way to quit. So am I.”

  “What are you talking about?” he said, sounding as if he’d left the family room for a quieter space.

  “Your mother wasn’t sick,” Shannan said. Her anger—that had dissipated over the last hours—ramped up yet again. “She faked it because she didn’t want to do the heavy lifting anymore. Now all she wants to do is pick apart every single thing I do but takes on none of the work.”

  “She wouldn’t do something that,” he said.

  “I overheard her talking to someone while she was in the pantry. She said, and I quote—‘I had to fake a damn heart attack to get that stupid heifer to get with the program.’ Now I’m the one doing the Sunday dinners. Brilliant plan on her part.”

  Silence.

  “You’re lying,” he accused.

  Of course, he wouldn’t believe her over his mother. “I heard it with my own ears.”

  “And that’s a reason to leave?” he asked, his voice an octave higher than normal.

  “I. Am. Tired. I work. I come home. I clean for you. I clean for the children. I clean for your brothers. You s
aid it’s a wife’s job, so the boys don’t lift a finger and it all falls to me. When your family comes over, they’re not supposed to help because they’re guests. Seriously? They stopped being guests the minute we said I do. They are family.”

  Zach didn’t have a comeback for that.

  “Your brothers are lazy and your mother has made them that way. They drop off their laundry at our house, like I’m supposed to serve them as if I’m sleeping with them, too. At least, I can get a little pickle tickle out of the deal.”

  “That’s uncalled for,” he roared.

  “That’s keeping it real,” she shot back. “I married you. It’s understandable that I do things for you. They act as if they’re paying bills in our household. I thought I was marrying the best man of the tribe. Turns out, even though you’re more successful, you’re no different from them.”

  Shannan sat up on the bed. “Have you ever thought about how every time I ask you to stand up for me and you don’t, it makes me feel really low; like I don’t matter.” She grimaced, closing her eyes for a moment to let reality set in. “But I allowed it. I took it—all of it, much longer than I should. Love does not require that I sacrifice my entire existence for you. I’ve done enough.” She rolled over and pulled out another pillow and placed it behind her back. “I want my freedom. And I’m not playing; not even a little bit.”

  “We … we … we can … We can get some counseling or something,” he stammered.

  “Well, how about that?” she taunted, loosening the belt on her white robe. “Or something. Because we are way past counseling. When I wanted it, you said Black folks don’t do shrinks. I feel you, my brother. Didn’t take into consideration that you married a woman who was half White, huh? It’s that part of me that’s asking for help, but the Black part in me said to get the hell out before I lose what’s left of my mind.”