Wifey 4 Life Read online

  “You think so?”

  “Kira, look at you. You are beautiful. Any woman in their right mind wouldn’t dare compete against you.”

  I smiled bashfully. “Oh, stop it, Donovan.”

  “But it’s the truth, baby. And, besides that, most Caribbean women are jealous of American women, especially a woman of your complexion, because you stick out even more. And to see you with a Caribbean man who is well-off makes them even more jealous.”

  “Well, I hope I never run into one of those crazy chicks who wants to throw acid in my face because she’s in love with you.”

  “You wouldn’t ever have to worry about anything like that. I’m gonna always be by your side to protect you.”

  I looked up at him with an expression of uncertainty. After a few seconds I smiled and said, “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

  Attending the Luncheon

  Our shopping excursion lasted another hour and then we got back on the boat and traveled the twenty minutes back to Anguilla. We dropped off our bags at my house, and then we hurried over to his parents’ house. Their home was beautiful. Like mine, it was a two- story home with huge louver windows. Mrs. Tate didn’t have window treatments, so you could see inside. I thought it was very tasteful, but the way my life had always been, to allow people to look into my house at their leisure would’ve given me a creepy feeling. I needed my privacy.

  When we entered his parents’ home, his mother was placing food on the dining room table, while his father sat at the table and watched. I greeted them both and took a seat at the table. Donovan asked his mother if she needed any help, but when she told him no and to take a seat at the table, he did just that. He and his father made small talk, while his mother made preparations for us to eat.

  I commented on how good the food smelled, which put a smile on her face.

  “Thank you, darling,” she replied. And then she asked me if I ever had steamed red snapper with callaloo and sweet potatoes. I told her I did, but I refused to tell her that I was introduced to that dish by my late husband. I’d always tried not to tell them anything about my past, since Ricky was a huge part of it. I did tell her that my favorite Caribbean dish was ackee and saltfish, which she promised to cook for me the following morning.

  Lunch was very good. That woman could cook her butt off. I asked her to teach me how to cook like that, and she assured me she would.

  After lunch Donovan and his father went outside to talk, which left me in the house, and his mother could have her way with me. Sometimes I felt uncomfortable when she would put me on the hot seat. I hated her Q and A sessions, which seemed to last forever and a day.

  Donovan had to save me a couple of times, but I really didn’t see that happening this time. I knew she only questioned me to see what my motives were and to see if I was fit to be with her son, which was only natural. If I were in her shoes, I would do the same thing.

  “You know Donovan wants to have children, right?”

  “Yes, I know. Remember you and I talked about this before?”

  “Has he told you how many he wanted?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Are you willing to have that many?”

  I smiled, thinking back to the day Donovan told me he wanted to have at least five kids, since he was an only child and often felt lonely growing up.

  “I told him I wasn’t comfortable having that many kids, but I could probably meet him in the middle.”

  “That’s a nice way to come to a happy medium,” she commented. “Well, this is supposed to be a surprise, but I must let you know that he plans to propose to you as soon as you come back from the States.”

  Totally caught off guard, I sat there motionless. “Are you all right?” she asked me.

  Trying to absorb what she had just told me, I said, “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just trying to take in everything you just told me.”

  She didn’t hesitate to ask, “What are your thoughts?”

  Honestly, I was having mixed feelings, but I wouldn’t tell her that. I didn’t want her to know about all the drama I’d experienced in my last marriage that caused me withdraw from the subject of weddings. I did, however, love her son, but at this particular moment I didn’t feel like I was ready to be engaged to him. I wanted to take my time with our relationship, not wanting to rush into anything like I did with Ricky and what I was about to do with Fatu’.

  So I sat there in my chair, looked into Mrs. Tate’s eyes, and lied. “I would love to marry your son, but I’m still mourning the loss of my late husband.”

  “Well, that’s understandable. In situations like that, sometimes it takes some people longer to get over a loved one, but in this case, all Donovan wants to do is get engaged. So would you accept his proposal?”

  “Ummmm . . . yes, I would.”

  “I sensed a little hesitation in your answer. Are you sure? Because I would hate to see my son get let down.”

  “I wouldn’t let down your son, Mrs. Tate. I love him too much to do that to him.”

  “Well then, it’s settled. You and he will get engaged when you return from the States, and we’re gonna have a big celebration.” She stood and clapped her hands together. “Now all I have to do is call all the relatives.” She walked over to the kitchen drawer to pull out her address book.

  I sat there and watched the excitement on her face. I could see it now. She was gonna try to plan our fucking wedding.

  Waiting on the Phone Call

  Kendra called me back to follow up with me on the progression of the sale of my house. For some reason, though, this call seemed odd. She wasn’t being her normal self, so I asked her what was wrong. She gave me a spiel about a deal that fell through. Hoping to raise her spirits, I reminded her that after the paperwork for my house was signed, she would make a large commission, but she brushed off my comment with a fake-ass laugh. Then she quickly asked me what time I would be arriving at the airport. Her behavior seemed odd to me, but I let it go.

  “My plane will arrive in Houston at ten thirty-five in the morning. So I’ll see you in the a.m.”

  “Sounds good,” she said.

  After I ended the call, I headed onto the balcony of my bedroom to find Donovan. He had been out there for at least thirty minutes and looked like he was deep in thought.

  “What’s on your mind?” I asked him as I took a seat on his lap.

  He was sitting on one of my wooden lounge chairs. It sat low to the ground, so it felt like we were sitting on the bare floor. It was sort of uncomfortable for me, so after a few minutes, I sat in the lounge chair beside him.

  “I’m just thinking about how lucky I am to have you.”

  I smiled. “Oh, baby, that is so sweet!” I placed my hand on his knee. “No, I’m serious, Kira. I’ve been looking for a woman like you all my life, and now that I finally got you, I feel like my life is complete.” Hearing Donovan pour out his heart to me made me reflect back

  on the marriage proposal his mother told me he had planned for when I came back from the States. We’d only been together for a little over a month, so for him to think about marrying me was somewhat of a pretty big apple to chew on. He was in his late twenties, financially well situated, and didn’t have any children lingering around, so he was a damn good catch.

  But in the back of my mind I kept wondering if one of his skeletons would rear its ugly head, and whether, when it did, it would be so bad that I wouldn’t be able to handle it. I was tired of running into good prospects, and then after some time passed, the real man came out. I couldn’t afford to get hurt again. The next time I’d probably have a fucking nervous breakdown.

  While I thought about the what-ifs, Donovan was still pouring out his love for me. He even got down on his knees, which shocked the hell out of me.

  Next he went into the left pocket of his shorts and pulled out a black box. I wanted to faint, but I knew I couldn’t. My heart did flip a couple of times, and the palms of my hands became sweaty.

  I
waited patiently for him to pop the question, but since it seemed like everything was going in slow motion, I opened my mouth to say something. But he placed his finger against my lips to prevent me from saying anything. Then he pulled his finger back from my lips and opened the black box. Inside was a beautiful princess cut diamond set in white gold. The diamond almost blinded me.

  “I know you and I haven’t known each other very long,” he began, “but when you’re in love like I am in love with you, there’s no way I could’ve put a time limit on when to ask you to marry me. So, will you marry me? And before you answer my question, just take into consideration that I know you’re probably still mourning your late husband, so we don’t have to get married right away. But please don’t count me out, because I promise I will never hurt you, and if we ever have any problems, I promise we will work through them. I would do any and everything to keep us together, because I want to grow old with you.”

  “I want to grow old with you too,” I said, not realizing I had opened my mouth. My heart had overpowered my mind.

  “Well, will you marry me then?”

  I hesitated for a second, thinking about how long my engagement had lasted with Fatu’. But then I thought about the fact that Donovan had assured me that we didn’t have to get married right away, so I smiled at him and said, “Yes, I will marry you.”

  Donovan’s eyes became glassy as he fumbled with the black box. He was having minor problems trying to take the ring out of the box. I sat there patiently and waited for him to get control of the situation. When he finally got it out and slid it on my finger, I looked at it about four or five times at different angles, and then I said, “This is so beautiful. Thank you, baby!”

  He leaned over to kiss me. “You’re welcome, sweetheart! Now let’s go tell my parents the good news.”

  I stood. “Let me freshen up in the bathroom, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  “All right. But don’t take too long.” He kissed me on the lips right before he walked off.

  I watched him as he left my presence. As soon as he left, I rushed into the bathroom and took a seat on the chair in front of my vanity. I know I looked down at the ring another fifty times. It was indeed beautiful, but I could tell that it wasn’t as expensive as the rock Fatu’ had given me when he’d asked me to marry him. Thank God, we never made it to the altar, because after all the shit I found out about him, I would’ve probably been the one to kill him, and not his cousin Bintu’.

  Now I had to admit, this ring was quite nicer than the diamond Ricky had given me, so I was satisfied. Hopefully if we tied the knot, Donovan would get me an upgrade in a few years. I had to make sure I got with him on that outing so I could help pick it out. I couldn’t see it any other way, since I had no choice this time around.

  Harsh Realities

  I should’ve listened to my first intuition when my realtor back in Houston called me and told me everything was a go. But, no, stupid me went against my better judgment and hopped on the next flight to Texas. What in the world was I thinking? I didn’t need the money the so-called couple had offered. I guess I just wanted to move on with my life. Well, thanks to my realtor, that didn’t happen. I traveled with my Louis Vuitton carry-on bag so I wouldn’t have to make a stop at baggage claim. I planned to fly into Houston, sign whatever paperwork I needed to sign, collect my funds from my realtor, and head back to Anguilla the very next morning. But Houston’s homicide detectives had a different plan for my ass.

  As soon as I walked off the plane, two white men approached me with their badges in hand and advised me to follow them to the airport’s security office. Fear consumed me, and now my mind confirmed what my gut had told me a couple days ago. I knew my bitch realtor had set me up, since she was the only one who knew I was coming to Houston, but there was nothing I could do about it now.

  I followed these white men like I was asked, and from there we headed down to their headquarters. They took me to a small room with a metal table and three chairs. There was one of those two-way mirrors on the wall like you saw on those police detective television shows, but that shit didn’t faze me one bit. I knew how the game was played. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been in this type of predicament before. Shit, I’d been in interrogation rooms with some of the best investigators the feds had to offer, so I was thinking, These little puppies better come correct with whatever they got, or don’t come at all.

  It didn’t surprise me that those bastards left me in that room for over two fucking hours. I was beyond furious when they marched their asses into the room to start their little interrogation. And even though they hadn’t divulged one word about why they were detaining me, I knew it was about my cousin Nikki.

  Both detectives took a seat. The fat one was the first one to speak. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked.

  I sucked my teeth and gave him the most disgusted expression I could muster. “Do I look like I need something to drink?”

  “Ms. Walters, there is no need for the sarcasm. All we’re trying to do is make you as comfortable as possible,” the fat man replied.

  “You can’t make me comfortable by sitting in this little-ass room. Let me the hell out of here, and then I’ll start to feel comfortable,” I roared.

  “Ms. Walters, we will let you go as soon as you answer a few questions,” the other detective said.

  I sighed heavily. “Am I under arrest?”

  “No, ma’am, you’re not,” the same detective said.

  “So, why did you bring me all the way down here? Don’t you think I’ve got better shit to do than to be locked up in some cold-ass room?” The fat detective said, “I’m sure you do, Ms. Walters, but we are investigating your cousin’s murder, and—”

  “My cousin’s murder? What are you talking about?” I asked, trying to act as shocked and distraught as I could. I knew I had to put on my acting hat, because these motherfuckers were looking at my body language and my facial expressions really hard, so they were ready for me to slip up. I wasn’t going to let that happen. I had too much riding on my freedom. I wasn’t going to let these bastards lock up my ass for being an accessory to her murder. Not only that, if they had the slightest inclination that I knew the motherfuckers who actually killed her, they would use it against me and try to get me to rat them out. Now how the hell would that look? I would be right back in fucking court testifying against another set of foreigners. And those African cats seemed like they were a little crazier than Papi and his boys. So I might not have the luxury of getting away this time.

  And what made the shit even worse was that I wouldn’t be able to get back into the Witness Protection Program. When I’d elected to leave that nest the last time, I’d forfeited my chances of ever hiding under its umbrella again. So if these assholes thought I was gonna start singing like a bird for the second time around, they had another think coming. I was going to play the I-don’t-know-shit card and see how far that took me.

  “Your cousin Nikki was murdered,” the fat detective replied. Thinking about the pain Nikki suffered before she was murdered by Bintu’ wasn’t enough to bring me to tears. With all the unnecessary drama I went through behind her, I could honestly say that she got what she deserved.

  I immediately thought about the loss of my grandmother. This was the only way I knew I could get emotional. “Oh my God! When did this happen?” I asked.

  The other detective cleared this throat and said, “We found her decomposed body in an abandoned building two and a half weeks ago, but we just found out a couple of days ago who she was. If it wasn’t for her parents reporting her missing and then coming here to ID her body, we wouldn’t have known who she was.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “The forensic report states that she was shot in the head at close range.”

  “No, that can’t be. Are you sure it’s her?” I became panicked.

  “Yes, we’re sure it’s her. We used her dental records to get a positive ID.”

&n
bsp; “Oh my God! Who could have done this to her?” I screamed.

  “We were hoping you would be able to answer that question for us,” the fat detective chimed in.

  I sat there wearing an expression of despair. Tears fell from my eyes like a running faucet as both detectives examined my body language. About ten seconds later, I covered my entire face with both my hands while I cried uncontrollably. I knew I had to keep up this act. My freedom depended on it.

  The fat detective handed me a couple of napkins to dry my tears. I took them and began to wipe my face. The moment I looked up at him, he threw another question at me.

  “When was the last time you spoke to Nikki?”

  I sat there and pondered for fear of fucking up and giving him the wrong answer. I didn’t want it to seem like I was the last person that talked to her. So I thought carefully and then I said, “I’m not sure.”

  “Can you give me a more precise answer than that?”

  “I don’t remember. Shit, I’ve been away in Anguilla for a little over a month now.”

  “Well, did you speak with her while you were in Anguilla?”

  “No.”

  “And why not?” His question cut like a sharp knife. “Were you two on speaking terms?”

  “Of course we were,” I snapped back.

  “Well, if you two were on speaking terms, why hadn’t you tried to contact her in almost a month?”

  “I tried to call her, but she wouldn’t answer her phone. I figured she had fallen in love with a man and wanted to be left alone.”

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it!” the fat detective roared. “I spoke with two women who used to work for you at your salon, and they told me a completely different story.”

  “Who?”

  “Rachael and Carmen.”