In The Company of My Sistahs Read online

  Kayla shook her head. “No, go ahead and go down. I’ll meet you on the beach.”

  She didn’t have to tell me twice. Besides, I was anxious to go outside and check out the sights before I had to be bothered with my nagging-ass sister and Nadine. I reached for a matching pair of sunglasses, then headed out the door.

  Chapter 10

  KAYLA

  Kayla waited until Renee left the room before she strolled over to her suitcase and removed a modest red swimsuit. Leery that Renee might return and catch her in the act, she stepped into the bathroom and shut the door.

  She never thought she would envy Renee, but she did. If God had given her a choice between being either fat or promiscuous, she would rather be comfortable in her skin, lying in the bed with her legs wide open. Her friend, no matter how crazy she may behave, in Kayla’s book, had her stuff together. She was successful, pretty, and had enough self-confidence for two people. She would have settled for even a fourth of what Renee had. Maybe then she wouldn’t mind parading around the resort in a bathing suit she had packed with no intentions of wearing.

  She quickly discarded her clothes, then slipped into the suit. Stepping in front of the mirror, she glanced down at the cellulite that had taken over her vanilla-colored thighs. Her stomach made her look six months pregnant. She had brought a cover-up that would at least hide the bulge around her waist, but nothing would hide her flabby forearms.

  Tears pushed to the surface. Here she was on an exotic island and she couldn’t even enjoy it. She had tried to no avail to get over her self-conscious behavior. She didn’t like herself. She had tried everything from the Atkins diet to eating cabbage soup, and nothing helped. She had a love for food that wasn’t going away. What was even worse was that when she was depressed, which was most of the time, she took comfort from food and doubled her intake.

  Kayla sighed, then left the bathroom and moved to her suitcase, where she removed a peach Capri outfit. She would wear it instead. The outfit was cool enough to withstand the Jamaican heat and keep her from burning.

  She carried it back to the bathroom and shut the door, then slipped out of the swimsuit. She glanced down at the floor so that she wouldn’t be tempted to stare at the rolls that encircled her torso. Instead, as she unzipped her pants, her eyes caught the size-twenty-four tag sewn to the waistband, reminding her that her body was nothing anyone wanted to see. Except for Leroy.

  Her stomach fluttered as she thought about the first time Leroy had seen her with her clothes off. Up until that point she had always made sure the room was dark or that she was under the covers long before he was. But on one particular afternoon when they met at their spot, there was no hiding.

  She had been in the hotel room barely five minutes when he pulled her onto his lap. Nervously, she tried to pull away.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, eyes burning with curiosity.

  She gave a nervous laugh. “I’m too heavy to sit on your lap.”

  He pulled her even closer. “No, you’re not. You’re just right.”

  Staring down at her hands, she tried to shield her insecurities. “You don’t have to say that. I know I’m a big woman.”

  “You’re my woman and I love you just the way you are.”

  She smiled at him, grateful for the kind words that she knew were far from the truth. His wife was half her size. So she knew what he was accustomed to holding, and it definitely wasn’t her big behind.

  Leroy rained light kisses along her cheek and neck. “You are so beautiful. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.” He reached up and slowly unbuttoned her shirt. Kayla tried to stop him from sliding it off her shoulders.

  “Baby, look at me.”

  Obediently, she raised her eyelids to look up at him.

  “I want to see you. All of you.”

  Seeing the love burning in the depths of his eyes, a tear rolled down her cheek. Finally, she nodded.

  Slowly, he peeled her shirt away and gazed down at her ample breasts. Feeling slightly emboldened by the power of his loving eyes, she reached around and unhooked her bra. Then he slid it off and onto the floor. Her large forty-six double Ds hung low but her large chocolate nipples stood hard and erect. Leroy leaned forward and captured one between his teeth and a moan escaped her lips. While he continued to suckle on her, he fondled the other between his fingers. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she thought she was seconds away from fainting.

  He then signaled for her to stand, then he lowered her jeans over her generous hips, followed by a pair of pink grandma panties. She was so embarrassed, but he didn’t seem to notice; instead his eyes were glued to the patch of hair between her legs.

  “You are beautiful.” He rose, then took her hand and led her over to the bed. “Lay down,” he ordered, and obediently she lowered onto the bed. “Now spread your legs so I can see.”

  She obeyed and opened her legs wide. Self-consciously, she tried to use her hands to cover her body but he stopped her. “Don’t. I like what I see.”

  Lust burned from the depths of his eyes as he kneeled down in front of her. He kissed a trail up the inside of her thighs. She shook with anticipation. She couldn’t believe it—he was going to finally eat her out. However, to her disappointment, he stopped only centimeters from hitting her spot, and told her to roll over and get up on all four.

  Leroy then positioned himself and immediately pushed inside of her. He pumped in and out, and five minutes later collapsed beside her, and said, “I am a weak man and you are an even weaker woman. Now let’s both ask the Lord for forgiveness.”

  Chapter 11

  LISA

  Lisa unfastened the lock, then slid the glass door open and stepped out onto the private balcony. She took a seat in the plastic patio chair, then tipped her face into the breeze and inhaled the fresh scent. Seabirds screeched as they wheeled and dipped near the ocean. It was beautiful here, which was the reason she always requested an ocean-view room.

  Taking a deep breath, she glanced down at the sandy beach and spotted Renee flirting with an islander. Her sister was a trip. She just hoped Renee didn’t get herself into any trouble. Last month some woman had tried to stab Renee because she had been standing in the checkout lane at Shop & Save, flirting with her man. Luckily, an off-duty cop in the next aisle had stepped in and broken up the situation. Renee, of course, showed her appreciation by inviting the cop out for dinner. According to Nadine, the evening ended with Renee lying on her back with her legs spread.

  Lisa studied her sister, trying to figure out what Renee was planning to do next. Mischief was written all over her face. Hmmm. First she was at the front desk flirting with Everton and now this. Watching a while longer, she spotted two other employees moving her way. They too stood around, obviously captivated by Renee’s beauty. Lisa had to admit her sister was a beautiful woman. She had sandy brown hair and the prettiest caramel skin. Lisa remembered spending years staying out of the sun, hoping that somehow her toasted complexion would resemble her younger sister’s. Renee might find it hard to believe, but there were quite a few things Lisa admired about her younger sister. She had brains, beauty, and confidence.

  Even in grade school, Renee had this walk that shouted, “try me if you want to.” People just didn’t fuck with her sister unless they didn’t know any better. She had a nasty mouth and an attitude to match, yet people still loved her despite her many ways. Especially men. They looked past the funky attitude and looked at the total package instead. Renee ran track, so she had runner’s legs and a narrow waist, little breasts, and a round ass. And brothas loved it. No matter how often she tried to school her sister, she sucked that shit up.

  Renee only got worse with age. She was a master at her game. That girl drew men like bees to honey and drama like it was her middle name. Lisa shook her head. One thing for certain, tonight someone would be sharing Renee’s bed.

  It wasn’t like it came as any big surprise. For years men had been in and out of Renee’s life like it
had a revolving door. Lisa had tried telling Renee her ass was hot and to slow it down, but all she had ever done was blow her off, and tell her to mind her damn business. After a while Lisa just shut up and let her do what she wanted. After all, Renee was grown and she was getting sick of telling her what she should or should not do.

  Lisa sighed with despair. Her sister was definitely a piece of work. She had hoped by the time she had reached thirty she would have slowed down, but apparently nothing seemed to be stopping her. Staring down at her, Lisa was glad she had asked their friends to share this week with them.

  Lisa remembered when they had first met Kayla and Nadine. She had been about sixteen and her sister thirteen. They had been living in Columbia less than two months and hated it. Coming from the South Side of Chicago, she and Renee thought the little college town was country. There were possums running around out back and crickets chirping on the front porch. She remembered being afraid to come out of the house because a cricket was blocking the door.

  In their small two-bedroom house, they had no central air. So she and Renee would spend many afternoons passing the time at the public library that was three blocks away.

  One particular afternoon, they were sitting in the periodical section, flipping through Teen magazine, reading an article on Janet Jackson, when Nadine and Kayla stepped into the room. Nadine was short and petite with a long, thick ponytail, while Kayla was tall and round.

  They walked over to the shelves and browsed, then Nadine cleared her throat.

  “Are y’all looking at Teen magazine?”

  “Yeah, why?” Renee answered with attitude.

  Lisa had to kick her under the table. Even then she had a smart mouth.

  “You mind if we look with you? I’ve been waiting all month to read that interview with Janet Jackson.”

  She signaled for them to take a seat, ignoring her sister’s frowns. Renee had always been a hateful thing. It took getting to know her to discover that beneath that hard shell was a vulnerable person desperate to be loved. A friendship began that day that withstood over twenty years of ups and downs, husbands, baby’s daddies, and even time and distance.

  Bringing her thoughts back to the present, Lisa turned away from the view and moved back through the sliding glass door. She left the sliding door open and the sheer white curtains billowed in the wind like a sail.

  “What you think?”

  Lisa glanced over at Nadine, who had just changed into a swimsuit. Short and round, the black one-piece with matching cover-up was flattering to her figure. “You look nice. Where’d you find that suit?”

  “I went to Penney’s last weekend. They were having a sale.”

  “Good choice. I should have checked it out myself.”

  “Your suit looks nice.”

  Lisa glanced down at her two-piece bikini with a purple wrap tied around her waist. Never having children, her stomach was flat, her large breasts still firm and upright.

  Nadine stepped out onto the balcony and gazed down below. “You know your sister is already working the beach.”

  Lisa gave a soft chuckle. “Yeah, I know. I don’t know what to do with her crazy ass. She is out of control.”

  Sometimes she blamed herself that maybe if she had stood by Renee all those years and defended her maybe things would be different. But there was no way of knowing. Besides, she had been only a kid herself. What’s to say if she had stood up to their stepfather, he might have rejected her also?

  One thing she could say about her sister, Renee had never stopped trying to please their stepfather. No matter how much he criticized her, she never gave up. She just returned to the drawing board and started over. However, what it took Lisa years to understand was that nothing would ever have been good enough because that was the type of person he was.

  Paul Perry had been a strict and heartless man. No kisses, never hugs. He rarely gave praise. For some reason he had accepted Lisa as his daughter. But Renee he never had. Lisa had wondered why for years and one day she asked Paul. He had told her simply, “Because Renee looked too much like her damn daddy.”

  Then, finally, five years ago, after years of being an evil bastard, Paul had given his life over to the Lord. Now he regretted the choices he had made and was trying to do everything in his power to win his youngest daughter’s heart. However, Renee wasn’t buying it. She didn’t trust him any more than she trusted any of the other men in her life to love her. After years of rejection, Renee had learned to take what she needed from a man, then jump ship long before he had a chance to figure out where the hell she had gone.

  Lisa lowered onto the bed and slipped her feet into a pair of sandals. Now if only she could find a way to get Renee to see what she was doing to herself. She needed to find a way to break the vicious cycle of self-destruction. Somehow, Lisa had to convince her sister to let go of the pain and learn to take a chance with love and life.

  Lisa believed that God had given her that mission. She hoped that with the aid of a life-threatening illness she would get her sister to see that life was much too precious for games. If she could get Renee to see that, then maybe there was an underlying reason why she had been diagnosed with cancer.

  Chapter 12

  RENEE

  It was obvious Jamaican men loved African American women, because ever since I’d left the room I’d been getting mega play. Brothas were whistling, catcalling, showing me all of their white pearly teeth, and my ass was sucking that shit up. I was looking too cute and definitely knew it.

  With a rum punch in my hand, I followed the path around the resort. Bob Marley was blaring from a speaker not far from the pool. People were everywhere, laughing and totally oblivious to anything but the uplifting atmosphere. It was quite apparent I was going to like it here.

  I moved along the beach, where there were over a hundred lounge chairs occupied mostly by women basting in the sun, hoping that by nightfall they might manage a tan that closely resembled my natural caramel complexion. A group on the end were laughing and sipping punch. I rolled my eyes when I noticed they were all wearing cornrows and beads.

  I never could understand that shit. White folks will travel all the way to Jamaica to get their hair braided when we’ve got salons right in the hood that can hook their asses up. I figure they like our music, our men, but the only way they can justify wearing their hair like us is to say, “I got my hair done in Jamaica.” Shit, they don’t have to spend a hundred dollars to get their hair done, when they can go to my girl Kenya’s shop on Twelfth Street. Shit, she’s from Jamaica. So what’s the difference? Not a damn thing.

  After mean mugging their asses for several seconds, I quickly reminded myself that I didn’t come to Jamaica to start no shit, and strolled my hateful ass over near my building to wait for the others. I smelled chicken and stopped on the path near a hut that was directly below my hotel room. One thing I can eat every day of the week is chicken. Fried, baked, barbecued—it doesn’t matter. Chicken is chicken as long as it is a leg or a wing. I don’t do thighs.

  I saw smoke coming from behind and there were at least a dozen people standing in line. Peering over the top of my sunglasses, I noticed two ebony brothas working inside the hut. Curiosity got the better of me and I swayed my hips to the end of the line to get a closer look. From where I was standing, they both looked fine as sin.

  While I waited in line, I swayed my hips to the uplifting beat of the music. They’re playing that song of Janet Jackson’s featuring the Elephant Man. As I continued to move to the beat, I keep my eyes trained on the brothas before me glistening with sweat. By the time I reached the front, the lanky one to the right had already been disqualified. He was too skinny and had a big jug head.

  “Hey beautiful, what can I get for you?”

  I was grinning like a damn fool as I moved up to lean against the counter to stare at the dark chocolate brotha who was hooking up the meat. He was buffed with long dreadlocks that hung down to the middle of his back.

 
“Can I have some chicken?”

  “Pretty lady, you can have whatever you want.”

  He moved to fix me a plate. As I waited, I leaned over and gazed down at his tight ass. Nice. Very nice.

  “What’s your name?” he asked as he fixed my plate.

  “Renee. And yours?”

  “Langley, mon.” He handed me a plate that smelled good, then leaned forward and kept grinning.

  Langley. I liked the sound of that. “Nice to meet you.” I glanced down at my plate, then frowned. “Uh-uh. Langley, I don’t eat thighs.”

  He had the nerve to look at me like I was crazy. “But that is jerk chicken.”

  “I don’t care what it is. I don’t eat nobody’s damn thighs.”

  “That is good meat, mon.”

  What part of “don’t eat thighs” was he not comprehending? I handed him the plate back. “Then you eat it.” I knew I was acting like a bitch. Like I’ve said before, it is in my nature and there ain’t a damn thing I can do about that. Although I bet you a dollar Langley was probably thinking, “here we go, another spoiled-ass American woman.” And, do you think I care? Hell, naw.

  “How about some jerk pork?” he suggested.

  I was pleased by his quick thinking. “Now, I can do pork.”

  He shook his head as he moved to fix me a different plate, and you know me well enough by now to know I never know how to keep my damn mouth shut.

  “What are you shaking your head for?”

  “You American women are so picky.”

  “What’s wrong with being picky?”

  “Nothing. But you know how that American saying goes, ‘don’t knock it until you try it’.”

  He obviously did not understand why I couldn’t eat every piece of the chicken. “Tell me, Langley. Have you ever had chicken feet?”

  “Chicken what?”

  “Chicken feet. You know, the things they walk with that have toes?”

  He chuckled. “No, mon. I’ve never had chicken feet.”