70
Push
“What are you doing?” Hope battled with Millicent even as she tried to help remove the pants.
“You’re having the baby,” Millicent said through clenched teeth.
“No, I’m not. Not until the ambulance gets here.”
Millicent jerked off the pants. A fuzzy black head between Hope’s legs was the sight that greeted her.
“I see the head!” she barked into the telephone.
“Okay,” the EMT operator replied calmly. “Tell the patient not to push until she feels a contraction.”
“Don’t push—”
“Don’t you dare tell me what to do!” Hope screamed.
“—until you feel a contraction,” Millicent finished.
“Lord Jesus, please. Just take me now, take me now!”
“Try to take your finger and insert it between the vaginal walls and the baby’s head,” the operator said.
“Take my who and do what?”
“I’m gonna kill, Cy,” Hope panted. She shot a dagger look at Millicent. “He did this, you know. This is what he did to me!” Another contraction ripped through Hope’s abdomen.
“Push now!”
“You just wait until I have this baby,” Hope panted. “I’m gonna kick your butt.”
“Well, don’t wait until the battle is over, sistah, shout now!”
Hope couldn’t roll her eyes; they were already in the back of her head. Instead she tucked her chin into her chest and pushed down with all her might.
“. . . Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten,” Millicent counted. “Good job. Now breathe.”
“ ‘Good job,’” Hope mimicked. “What are you doing down there? Get your finger out of.... ooh . . . Just pull it out. Grab it by the head, the neck, I don’t care. Just get it out!”
“The head is out!” Millicent announced triumphantly.
“Okay, the shoulders are the hardest,” the EMT instructed, still on speakerphone. “Slowly move your finger around the rim, expanding the opening. Have the patient hold her knees in the air and bear down in her pelvic area.”
“This is way too close for us to ever be,” Hope panted as she felt Millicent’s finger inside her. But she was in no position to demand change. Sweat was now dripping from her face, and while only a few minutes had gone by, it felt like years.
“Where’s the ambulance!”
“It’s coming. Concentrate, Hope. And when you feel another contraction—”
“Urgh,” Hope growled as she bore down again.
“Keep going! Keep going!” Millicent’s breath became shallow as amid the sticky, whitish goo she saw a neck and tiny shoulders—and then a whole body slid out.
Just then the door opened. In ran the paramedics, followed closely by Cy and Jack.
“Hope!” Cy cried, falling down by his wife. “Oh, my God!” He looked down at what Millicent was holding.
“Cy Taylor,” she said, beaming as if she herself were the mother. “Say hello to your son.”
71
Down the Aisle
Everything was perfect. The weather, the setting, the gathering of fifty or so friends and family seated to witness the moment. Stacy stood quietly, just out of view, taking it all in. Here she was, in the garden restaurant at the museum where Tony had not long ago proposed . . . perfect. The past six months had felt like a dream, and this day, an ultimate fantasy.
Granted, it was not the wedding she’d envisioned. She’d always seen herself walking down the center aisle at Kingdom Citizens with the entire congregation looking on. Of course, there had also been another man in that scenario. Which made it all the more fitting, as she continued to ponder the moment, that nothing had followed her script—especially the man waiting at the altar. Her mother had used to say that life was what happened while you were busy making plans. Stacy certainly felt that was true because right now, in this incredible moment, Stacy Talisa Gray had never felt more alive.
“You ready, baby girl?”
“Yeah, lil’ sis—you’ve still got time to make a quick getaway.”
“Man, I say she runs while she still has the chance.”
Her younger brother came to stand directly in front of her. “This is the happiest I’ve ever seen you, big sis. You get ready to walk to your man. We’ll be right beside you, now and forever.”
Stacy’s eyes shone with unshed tears as she hugged her brothers. Sean’s words were almost her undoing; the teasing from her other three brothers was much easier to handle. She hugged each one of them and remembered these protectors who’d always been her shield—how after their dad had died, they had all stepped in to fill his shoes. And during Stacy’s dating years, much to her chagrin, how they’d chased off many a nuckah who didn’t mean well and threatened a few more who wouldn’t leave her alone. They were a pain in the neck, but she couldn’t imagine life without them. It was the only appropriate action that all four of them accompany her down the aisle.
Her mother waited at the altar, along with Tony, serving as her maid of honor. Dr. Montgomery looked resplendent in a tailored tuxedo, as did Tony’s NFL-playing best man. Frieda, Vivian, and Mother Moseley were among those on the front row. As Stacy walked down the aisle to an original wedding march played by the Musical Messengers, she eyed several relatives, members from the church, and coworkers from her former job before resting her eyes on her beloved and keeping them there.
As for his part, Tony could barely contain himself. He wanted to run down the aisle, meet her halfway, scoop her up, and carry her off to a place where it was only the two of them. The six months he’d waited to make this woman his had been the longest six months of his life. In fact, it had taken a lifetime, he thought as he watched his beautiful bride in her palest of pink confections approach him. She reminded him of cotton candy, soft and sweet. Her beautiful brown eyes were hidden behind a short veil, and the simple yet elegant halter design with trumpet lace emphasized her small, lanky frame and added the illusion of curves with its flared hem. He couldn’t wait for her to melt in his mouth.
He looked at his parents sitting in the front row on the other side of Frieda, Vivian, and the others. Their look said it all. They knew what he’d gone through with the others: the model who had left him for his teammate and the college baby mama who brought drama all day long. Fortunately, for once, both acted like women who had some sense when Tony’s mother called and requested her grandchildren attend their father’s wedding. He winked at Shea and Justin, looking loving and mindful between their “mawmaw” and “pawpaw.”
“Who gives this woman away to be married to this man?” Derrick asked in a clear, firm voice.
“We do!” was the unanimous reply.
And so it began, Stacy’s official journey into becoming Mrs. Stacy Johnson. Later, the entire day would seem a dream. After the traditional ceremony—where the sometimes controversial words
honor
and
obey
were used in the vows to her husband—the entire wedding party and all the guests enjoyed a sit-down dinner of tenderloin beef, lobster claws, rosemary potatoes, and a fresh green salad. The three-tiered wedding cake was Tony’s favorite: carrot, covered in Stacy’s favorite frosting, a creamy white buttercream dusted with crushed pecans.
A few dances were as long as Tony and Stacy could linger. After they’d dutifully danced with brothers and mothers and taken a swirl around the room, they exited amid bubbles and blessings and headed to the first stop of their eventual Parisian honeymoon, the Beverly Hills Four Seasons grand luxury suite, compliments of the Taylors. Stacy had felt the prize in brothah man’s package on more than one occasion. Leaning into her husband’s solid chest, she seared him with a kiss as the limo whizzed them toward their destination. The waiting was over, the party was starting, and both Tony and Stacy were thinking the same thing: they couldn’t wait to experience a little heaven.
72
The Ladies
Stacy Johnson, Hope Taylor, and Frieda Moore sat enjoying the breeze coming off the Pacific Ocean. Two-and-a-half-year-old Darius Crenshaw Jr. sat cooing and clapping in his high chair, obviously enjoying the late September weather. It was the first time in months the ladies had hung out together, and for all three the good food and great conversation was just what the doctor ordered.
“You’re looking good, Hope,” Frieda said as she eyed her cousin critically.
“Well, thank you—”
“Your booty is still as big as a Broadway marquee, but your face is starting to lose that chubby look.”
“—I think,” Hope finished. She ignored her favorite relative and dug into her perfectly cooked lasagna.
“Don’t listen to her,” Stacy said as she speared an asparagus tip with her fork. “You look marvelous, darling. Three months after twins and still nursing? Please! You are doing
fine
.”
“Oh, please, chick. Everything has been fine with you since you started having sex again. It’s working for you though. Your face is glowing!” Frieda studied Stacy as she nibbled her garlic bread. “Sure there isn’t something you want to tell us?”
“Actually, there is.” Stacy swallowed her food, wiped her face, and put down her napkin. “Tony and I are moving to Phoenix.”
“What?”
“You lyin’.”
“Why?” Hope asked.
“Football. You know the Raiders released him. Thank God the Cardinals gave him a one-year contract. He’s hoping to parlay it into a multiyear deal, but even one year is enough for us to get a nice place, put some funds away for Darius’s college and whatnot, and adopt a lifestyle out of the fast lane.”
“What does baby daddy think about that?”
Stacy shrugged. “He wasn’t too happy at first, but I think he’s slowly coming around. He said he might buy a condo there, have a place to chill out of the limelight himself.”
“Here’s a bigger question,” Frieda said. “What does Uncle—no,
Godfather
—think?”
“Well, for once, Bo and I are on the same page. I think there’s a few fellas here after Darius that Bo would be more than happy to put some distance between.”
“You and Bo in cahoots. Now that
is
some mess.”
“No, what’s some mess,” Stacy said as she turned her attention to Hope, “is Millicent delivering this woman’s firstborn. I still can’t get over that irony.”
“You and me both,” Hope said. But the grin belied her rough tone. Truth of the matter was, since Camon and Acacia had come into the world, her joy at their arrival had covered a multitude of other faults. She was too blessed to be angry, stressed, or depressed, although a touch of postpartum had hit her in the weeks following the delivery.
“So how is that—you and Cy living so close to them?”
“Well, we aren’t close, per se; there are a good five miles between us. Still, like it or not, that woman will never be out of my life.”
“Why, because Jack and Cy are so close?”
“No, because she’s Camon’s godmother.”
“What?” Stacy and Frieda exclaimed simultaneously.
“That’s why I waited to tell you cows, and I don’t want you mooing what you think about it. She delivered him and was very helpful after Mama left and during the times when neither of you could make it down. Whenever I can see my way past the past, she’s really not a bad person. I’m not saying we’ll ever be BFFs, but lately I’ve been neighborly. And so far no one’s died.”
“Well, there’s one thing for sure: for as long as you waited, your babies’ entrance into the universe was anything but dull!”
“Can you believe it? Having one in Cy’s office and the other in the ambulance? That was insane! I’m just glad they were healthy and, yes, that Millicent was there. But I still feel bad I wasn’t there for you,” she said to Stacy.
“How many times do we have to have this conversation? You couldn’t help when your babies were born. That they chose to come the same week as my wedding is the best gift you could have given me—my play niece and nephew. Besides, I never thought to ask Mama to be my maid of honor, but when I did, she was thrilled. She was meant to be standing there, really.”
Frieda scooped up the last of her manicotti, sopped up the sauce with her bread, and relished the bite. Then she sat back in her seat and crossed her arms.
“Do you realize that all the two of you talk about is marriage and motherhood? See, that’s what happens when you settle down. You get dull and boring.”
“Oh, is that so?” Hope asked.
“Yes, it is.”
“Well, if your life is so bright and exciting, why don’t you liven up the conversation?”
“Yes, Miss Free-as-a-Bird Frieda, tell us what’s been going on in your fast-lane life.”
“I’m pregnant,” Frieda said calmly, motioning the waiter over for dessert. “Your children’s holyterror cousin is on its way.”
Stay tuned for a second helping of Lutishia Lovely’s new series, which follows the hot tempers and tantalizing temptations of a family whose restaurant is
the
place for a tasty meal....
Mind Your Own Business
Coming in September 2011 from Dafina Books
Here’s an excerpt from
Mind Your Own Business....
“Why can’t a woman be on top?” Bianca Livingston demanded, tossing shoulder-length, naturally curly hair over her shoulder. She stood over her brother as if ready to strike, looking totally capable of kicking butts and taking names. Her quick smile, short stature, and girly frame had caused many men to underestimate her—to their peril. But anyone seeing her now—shoulders back, hands on hips, and perfectly tailored black suit and four-inch heels—would believe her capable of running almost anything. “I’m as qualified to run the West Coast locations as you are, even more so, matter of fact.”
“You’re qualified to run the kitchen,
maybe,
” her older brother retorted. Jefferson suppressed a smile. He’d taunted Bianca from birth, and did so now. Her fiery personality was the perfect foil for his laid-back teasing. But even with his ongoing provocations, this time Jefferson’s antics masked the seriousness of his quest. He had every intention of being the Livingston who moved to LA to establish the Taste of Soul restaurants both there and in Nevada. He just didn’t like confrontation, or competition. He’d quietly made his bid to run the West Coast locations the same way he cooked his ribs—low and slow. “Isn’t that why you spent the last nine months in Paris?” he queried to underscore his point. “Learning the fine art of cooking so that you could give our soul food some class?”
Actually, Bianca had fled to Paris to get away from the chain around her neck otherwise known as Cooper Riley, Jr., her fiancé. But only one other person knew this truth. Initially, forestalling the marriage everyone else believed was a fait accompli was also why she’d expressed interest in running the West Coast locations. But now, after months of talking with her cousin Toussaint, her confidant and the brainchild behind their company expanding out west, Bianca wanted to relocate to continue spreading her independent wings, expand the Livingston dynasty, and make the brand shine under her direct supervision.
“Need I remind you that I have not only a culinary certificate from Le Cordon Bleu, but I also have an undergrad and a graduate degree in business administration?”
“No, little sis, you don’t need to remind me.” Jefferson’s smirk highlighted the dimple on his casually handsome face, his tan skin further darkened by the August sun. His brown eyes twinkled with merriment. “But do I have to remind you that I have a double master’s in business administration and finance?” After receiving an MBA at Morehouse, Jefferson had garnered a second one from the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania.
Bianca, knowing that she couldn’t go toe-to-toe when it came to her brother’s education, tried a different route. She walked away from Jefferson and sat in one of the beige leather chairs in the artistically appointed office. Reaching for a ballpoint pen that lay on his large and messy mahogany desk, she adopted a calmer tone, yet couldn’t totally drop the petulance in her voice. “Jefferson, the only reason Dad is promoting the idea of your heading up the location is because you’re the oldest.”
“And the son—don’t forget that. You know Dad doesn’t want to see his baby girl fly too far from the nest.”
“Okay, probably that too,” Bianca conceded. It was no secret that when it came to her father, Abram “Ace” Livingston, she was the apple of his all-seeing eye.
“Besides, how are you even considering relocation when you’ve got a fiancé chomping at the bit to get married? Cooper has been more than patient with you, Bianca. Not many men would let the woman they love move to the other side of the world, even if—as you successfully argued—it was for the union’s greater good. What did you call it? Increasing your company value and the marriage’s bottom line? As if being a Livingston isn’t value enough? No, Bianca, Cooper allowed the wedding to be pushed back once already. He’s not going to delay it a second time, and you know he isn’t moving to LA.”
Bianca abruptly rose from the chair where she’d been sitting and walked to the window. “You’re probably right,” she said, quickly wiping the tears that had leaped into her eyes. “If everyone has their way, I’ll be married in six months with a baby on the way in nine.”
But how can I marry Cooper after what happened in Paris?
“Hey, sister, are you all right?”
Bianca jumped. She hadn’t heard Jefferson rise, hadn’t been aware that he’d walked from his desk and joined her at the window. “Actually, no, if you want to know the truth. Jeff, I—”
“Hey, man . . . Oh, Bianca, I’m glad you’re both here.” Toussaint Livingston burst into Jefferson’s office and rushed toward his cousins on the other side of the room. “We need to roll to your parents’ house right now. Emergency family meeting.”
Their conversation forgotten, both Jefferson and Bianca turned and talked at once.
“What’s the matter?”
“What’s going on?”
Bianca’s heart raced with concern. “Why are we meeting at Mom and Dad’s house, Toussaint, and not in the conference room?”
Toussaint turned and headed for the door. “That’s what we’re about to find out. I’ll meet y’all there.”
Fifteen minutes later, Toussaint, Jefferson, and Bianca joined their family members in the living room of Ace and Diane’s sprawling Cascade residence. Toussaint’s parents, Adam and Candace, and his brother, Malcolm, were already there.
Toussaint and his cousins were the last to arrive, and as soon as they sat down, Ace cleared his throat and stood. “We’ve got a situation,” he began without preamble. A pregnant pause and then, “Somebody’s stealing company funds.”
Reactions were mixed, with bewilderment and anger vying for top billing.
“Who is it?” Bianca angrily asked, ready for battle though the culprit remained unnamed.
“We don’t know,” Ace replied. “But it’s definitely an inside job.”
The family members looked at one another, a myriad of thoughts in each of their minds.
Who could it be? How did this happen? Is the guilty party somehow connected to someone in the room?
One family member even pondered the unthinkable:
Is the thief one of us?
“What kind of money are we talking about?” Toussaint asked. “Hundreds, thousands . . . more?”
“
Several
hundred thousand,” Ace replied, his tone somber and curt.
Again, responses were symphonic.
“What the hell?”
“Who could do such a thing?”
“Oh, hell to the no. We’re not going to take this lying down.”
“You’re absolutely right, baby girl,” Ace said to Bianca. “We’re not going to stand for this at all. Nobody steals from our company, takes from our family, without feeling the wrath of a Livingston payback.”