In The Company of My Sistahs Read online

  At twenty-four, I finally learned how to drive; then came the drinking. Soon I was back to having one man after another, looking for love all over again.

  I met my second husband on my twenty-seventh birthday. I went to Fort Leonard Wood with my cousin Danielle. Troy Harris was a high-yellow brotha who instantly became attached to me and my kids. I don’t know what it is about a brotha in uniform but it turned me the fuck on. Troy was only in Missouri three months for school but by the time he was ready to return to Panama, he proposed. I looked past his insecurities, and I looked past the cheap-ass wedding ring he bought from Wal-Mart. All I could think about was that he was taking me away from my dead-ass town to another country to live on a military installation. We knew each other exactly six months before we were married in the basement of my house in front of fifty of my friends. I knew something wasn’t right but I did it anyway.

  I quit my job and hopped on a plane, eager to start my new life. It took another six months before I realized that I had married a liar. We drove each other crazy and after being dogged for so many years, it was my turn to dog. By the time we returned to the States our relationship was over. He went to Arkansas and I went back home.

  I had several more relationships afterwards with me allowing one man to move in after a month and believing I was in love. And after one too many failed relationships, including two sperm donors whose seeds I deposited at the nearest Planned Parenthood, I met John Moore.

  I was working part-time at a nightclub—it’s a long story so I won’t get into it right now—but I will say that he asked for my number. And like I did with everyone else who asked, I gave it to him.

  My phone used to ring so much that I used to ask myself why did I give my phone number out to people I wasn’t even interested in. However, if I went one day without receiving a call, I would become depressed and feel unwanted.

  Anyway, he called and asked me out, and with me working two jobs, not to mention my busy social calendar, I was eventually able to fit him in. We went out to dinner, and even though I found him to be a very nice guy, he was too nice. He was the type of man who’d give you everything, and he fell in love faster than I ever did. I tried to ignore his calls, but he was persistent. Eventually I let him take me out again, and after dinner I felt so lightheaded, he insisted on following me home. I wasn’t too happy about that because I didn’t want him to know where I lived. He not only followed me home, but he made sure I made it into the house. He came back the next morning while I was asleep and shoveled the snow from my driveway. I had no choice but to invite him in for breakfast. The kids took a quick liking to him and he convinced me to let him take us out for pizza. How can you tell a child no to Chuck E. Cheese?

  After that it was hard to get rid of him. He popped over all the time, even if it was just to drop off McDonald’s. Within a month he had grown on me. I began to realize that he was not like the other men. He was lonely and desperately wanted a family of his own. But the difference was he didn’t want to share what I already had, he wanted to give me something I didn’t already have. He didn’t want to move in with me, he wanted me to live with him. He didn’t want to use up my hot water. He wanted to pay the damn bill.

  I knew even before he proposed that he was going to ask me. When my sister told him that if he wanted me, he had better put a ring on my finger quick, he took that shit to heart. He and Lisa went to the mall and together they picked out a one-carat princess-cut diamond. The next night, John took the kids and me out to dinner and proposed to all three of us. My kids were excited and I was in shock. I didn’t know what I wanted to say but before I realized it, I was saying yes. He didn’t even give me a chance to change my mind, because if he had, I definitely would have said, “hell no!” Instead he rushed my ass off to the justice of the peace, and a week later, I was Mrs. John Moore.

  I quit my job and he let me stay home and pursue my career as a writer. I have to admit it was wonderful staying home and being there when my kids got home from school. I bought cookbooks and started planning meals. John let me handle the household finances and he never questioned any financial decisions I made. For almost an entire year I enjoyed being a housewife. Then summer rolled around and I started spending the weekends hanging out with my girls, meeting men my age. John is fifteen years older than me, and extremely overweight. I began to question why I married a man that I wasn’t even attracted to. The sex wasn’t good and I started to question if it was ever good because so many times before I had convinced myself sex didn’t really matter. All that mattered was what he was able to do for me and it was a helluva lot more than any of them other tired ass mothafuckas had been able to do. But after a while I began to ask myself, if he wasn’t supporting me and I had a job would we be together, and I kept coming up with the answer. Hell no! I began to dread him touching me. I looked forward to him working second shift.

  When John was offered a job in another state, I was excited and came up with the decision that he go ahead of us and prepare for us to come, while in the back of my mind I knew I had no intention of following. At first John flew home every other weekend to visit, then eventually it became less and less. Being away from him was like a breath of fresh air. Unfortunately, a year has passed and two weeks ago, John gave me an ultimatum. The kids and I either join him in Delaware before school starts or we need to consider ending our relationship.

  I’ve had several extramarital relationships during the year but nothing worth ending my marriage over. I found myself asking, what am I looking for? Was I looking for a fairy tale? What is it going to take to make Renee happy?

  Now time had run out, and I have one week left to figure it out.

  Chapter 9

  RENEE

  When I woke up my neck was stiff from sleeping the wrong way most of the plane ride. However, as soon as I glanced out the window, pain was the farthest thing from my mind. All I cared about was the magnificent sight below: turquoise waters and miles of lush green land.

  I was one of the first to depart the plane. As soon as I stuck my head out the door, I knew we were in Jamaica. Black folk was everywhere. Unlike in the States, instead of using a ramp that leads directly into the airport terminal, we departed off the plane outside. I felt like I had just stepped into a furnace as the heat radiated around me. It was hot. But none of that seemed to matter. I was just excited to be there. And the big smiles on all of our faces proved that.

  My Jamaican sistahs and brothas, glistening with sweat. Their skin ranged in colors and was startling against their radiant white smiles. As we descended the stairs onto Jamaican land they waved and welcomed us to Jamaica, and we all waved and thanked them.

  We moved through the small airport, listening to the musical lilt of island accents that floated around the building. The language was lively and my excitement rose as I moved through the door.

  We were directed toward an air-conditioned coach bus that would take us to the Holiday Inn. I moved to locate our bags as two fine brothas loaded them at the bottom of the bus.

  Nadine nudged me in my side, and I for once didn’t mind her touching me and nudged her back. We both grinned like two fools at a brotha with legs the size of tree trunks. And he was boy-legged. Ain’t nothing better than a boy-legged brotha. In my years of experience, I discovered it ain’t the size of his hands or his feet. It was how much room he needed to accommodate his package. A boy-legged brother required a great deal of room. He was definitely a Mandingo. Just the way I like them.

  Lisa came up behind us. “Come on, you two, before the bus leaves without y’all.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Damn, Lisa, you’re missing the sights.”

  “I’m not missing shit,” she said as she moved to the door and climbed the stairs. “I might be married but I’m far from blind. Don’t worry, you’ll see more than enough of that this week.”

  “I sure hope so.”

  “I know that’s right, girl!” Nadine said. She and I jumped in the air and screamed with ex
citement as we high-fived. This trip was already starting off on the right foot.

  I boarded the bus and took a seat beside Kayla, who was reading The Daily Word, while Nadine and Lisa found a seat near the back of the bus.

  I waited until Kayla closed the small book before I spoke. “I’m hungry. I hope we aren’t too far from the hotel.” My pecan waffles were nothing but a memory.

  Kayla reached into her purse and pulled out a bag of trail mix. “Here, eat some of this. I think I heard someone say we have a half-hour drive.”

  I eagerly poured myself a handful. I have never been big on squirrel food but right now I was too hungry to care.

  While we chomped on fruits and nuts, I glanced around at all of the faces. The bus had quickly filled with eager white folks.

  “As soon as we get to the hotel I’m getting myself a drink.”

  “Me too,” Kayla chimed in.

  I twisted my lips in a frown. “You mean a glass of Kool-Aid, right?”

  “You know it.”

  I shook my head and stared across at her holier-than-thou ass. Kayla likes to act like she doesn’t remember the way the two of us used to roll up to Fort Leonard Wood. For years, we both had a thing for servicemen. Fort “Lost in the Woods” is a training post, so soldiers from all over would come down and take classes for several weeks, then return to their duty station. Every couple of months we’d drive down to meet us someone special, then let him wine and dine, and throw our legs over his shoulders. I think things changed for Kayla when she met this guy named Carter Drake. I have to admit he was fine. Taller than her, skin like a chocolate bar, and he had the sexiest smile. If she hadn’t gotten to him first, I definitely would have hopped on his ass. However, he made it clear the first night we met him and his boy Chico—who was ugly as hell—he had a thing for big women.

  Carter drove down to see Kayla every weekend, and every weekend she catered to all his needs in and out of the bedroom. He told her he loved her and promised that when he returned to California—where he was currently stationed—he would send for her.

  Kayla was strung out over the brotha. She would spend hours talking about marrying him and spending her life traveling around the world with him. She was so excited, and I was happy for her. Then the negro left and she never heard from him again. She tried to hide her pain but I knew she was hurt. I was hurt for her. After that she started spending all her spare time at church, and never wanted to go down to Fort Leonard Wood again. About that time I had already met husband number two, so I didn’t have a reason to make the trip. Then after the shit that brotha did to me I was through with servicemen myself. Like I said before, I’ll save that story for another time. That fool is a book all by itself.

  I popped a few more nuts into my mouth, then closed the bag. My throat was dry and the soda machine inside the “no frills” airport was broken. Unlike in our American airport terminals there weren’t concession stands all around to satisfy your eating pleasure.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when the driver finally stepped onto the bus and welcomed us all to Jamaica.

  “How far are we from the hotel?” I blurted out because a sistah needed to know.

  “About twenty minutes. But I’ll try to get you there as quickly as possible.” He then chuckled like he knew something I didn’t know.

  Shit, I heard about the way Jamaicans drove, and quickly didn’t sound like such a good idea. “Take your time,” I suggested. Several others nodded their heads in agreement. Apparently, they’d heard the same thing I had.

  He winked. “No problem, mon.”

  I swung my head around. “Did he just call me a man?”

  Kayla covered her mouth and laughed. “Girl, you are silly. He said ‘mon’, not ‘man’. You know, that’s what the Jamaicans say.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I’m glad she clarified that shit.

  The driver turned on some uplifting reggae music as he pulled away from the airport and we glanced out the window while trying to snap pictures of the scenes around us. So far Jamaica looked poverty stricken. Shacks, clotheslines with dingy drawers hanging, and a bunch of malnourished-looking dogs. There were also numerous primitive-looking hotels. I hope to hell that we weren’t staying in any shit like that. I wasn’t worried. My father and his new wife had invited Lisa and my brother down to join them on several occasions when they visited Jamaica. It was an invitation that had never been extended to me. That shit used to hurt. Eventually I just brushed my shoulders off.

  As we moved farther from the airport we started seeing cows and something that looked like goats. There were old brothas sitting out on the curb, playing dominos. Shit, I shot up half my roll of film on the drive over.

  Finally we reached the tourist area of Montego Bay, and it was like stepping into the twilight zone. It was like going from black and white to Technicolor. We passed shopping strips and merchants on the side of the road and made mental notes to stop and patronize each and every one. I wanted a large wooden giraffe. Last year I had my basement remodeled and was working on an entire jungle theme. Big silk plants, face carvings, and animal paintings. There was a mile and a half of hotels and all-inclusive resorts surrounded by white sand beaches.

  The driver made a left at the end of the block and pulled into a wide circular drive in front of our hotel. I couldn’t wait to get off that bus but there was this fat woman in front of me, moving like a turtle. When Kayla and I finally got off the bus, we waited for Lisa and Nadine. Two men rushed from inside the hotel and began unloading the bags from the bus.

  Lisa stepped off smiling. “Welcome to the Holiday Inn Sun Spree. You’re going to love this place.”

  I guess she would know since this is the only place she’s ever stayed on the island. Glancing around at the well-tended grounds dotted with tall green palm trees, hibiscus, and other tropical flora, I had to agree it was paradise for sure.

  “Come on—let’s check in,” I said. I was actually anxious to get out of the heat. It wasn’t until we stepped inside that I realized the lobby had no doors or windows. It was all open air, spacious and relaxing. I stepped across the Aztec marble floor over toward the front desk. From the far left Calypso music could be heard, which made me want to kick up my heels and dance the night away.

  There was an excursion desk up front as well as a place to rent a car. After watching them crazy-ass Jamaicans drive down the highway, renting a car wasn’t even an option. I don’t think my nerves could take it. If someone cut me off, I’d have to climb out my car and cuss his ass out. Since I’m supposed to be on vacation, I didn’t need the unnecessary stress.

  In the center of the lobby was a large indoor fountain surrounded by a profusion of tropical foliage in brilliant colors of pink, green, and blue. As we walked past it the cool water sprinkled against my damp skin. As hot as I was, I could have jumped in head first. Before I could stick my hand in, the smell of barbecue meat hit my nose. I glanced out the back of the hotel, which was also open, and could see people standing in front of little straw huts, ordering drinks in their bikini-clad bodies.

  Suddenly I couldn’t wait to join in.

  A cute pecan-colored woman with dimples stood behind the desk. Her name tag read, LESLIE.

  “Welcome. Checking in?” she greeted with a smile.

  I nodded, finding her smile contagious. “Yes. We have two rooms reserved under Lisa Miller and Renee Moore.”

  While she punched in the names, we glanced around the lobby. I noticed a buffet to the far right of the fountain, where the staff was preparing for lunch.

  “Yes, I have your reservations here,” Leslie said, drawing our attention. “That will be one-fifty a night for seven nights.”

  All four of us swung around at the same time. Of course I was the first one to speak. “Excuse me. How much did you say?”

  She gave me another sweet smile that was now wearing my nerves. “One-fifty per night.”

  “Oh, hell, naw!”

  Lisa dropped a hand to my arm, silen
cing me, and stepped up to the counter. “I’m sorry, that’s not right. Our rooms should be seventy-five a night.”

  Leslie shook her head and looked at Lisa like she was crazy. “I’m sorry, but we don’t book rooms at that price.”

  I glanced at Kayla, who looked ready to puke on herself, while Nadine was reaching into her purse for her credit card.

  I leaned across the counter and cleared my throat. “Leslie, we ain’t crazy. I specifically spoke with my father and he said our rooms were seventy-five dollars a night. So I advise you to go and get your manager, now!” Leslie scurried inside an office behind the desk.

  I was one minute away from getting ghetto, so hopefully this was going to be easily resolved.

  I slammed my palm against the countertop. “That bitch is trippin’!”

  Lisa gave me one of those looks. “Be nice.”

  I rolled my eyes, then glanced over at Nadine and Kayla, who were both mumbling under their breath. All I heard were the words “ghetto” and “embarrassing.”

  “If y’all heifers want to pay the full inflated rate you go right ahead, ’cause I ain’t paying a dime over the amount that was quoted to me.”

  “Dang, why you always got to be so loud?” Kayla started making “tsk” sounds with her teeth while Nadine struggled to keep a straight face.

  “You would want to shut up and let me handle this.” Her broke ass has got a lot of nerve, especially since up until the point I had corrected her ass, she had thought I was paying for her room. She didn’t even have enough to pay the reduced rate let alone the buck fifty. So the best thing for her to do was to shut the hell up and let me handle things.

  “Here we go,” I heard Nadine mumble. She was obviously pissed off.

  “You would want to shut up, too.”