Feelin' the Vibe

by Candice Dow

Genres: General Fiction

Synopsis

Devin and Clark find out if true love really does conquer all in Candice Dow's much-anticipated follow-up to Caught in the Mix and Tappin' on Thirty. A decade ago, Clark Winston nearly had a nervous breakdown after the man of her dreams, Devin Patterson, left her to marry another woman. Soon after, her best friend, the mother of her niece, died, leaving Clark sole custodian of the 10-year-old. Knowing she had to pull herself together, she sought help at a mental health clinic run by an old college friend, Dr. Kenneth Winston. The attraction was instant, and they proved to be a perfect match. Now 10 years later, the past is behind her and she has a perfect career and family at hand. But then, in the blink of an eye, Devin reappears and a tumultuous affair ensues. Clark will now have to make the most important decision of her life-choose the man who broke her heart or the one who fixed it.

Release date: September 24, 2009

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 304

Sample

After my mother got over the shock that I was getting married again, to a girl she didn’t even know, she figured she would
do her part and plan the rehearsal dinner. She was all about custom, and she had to do the right thing whether she approved
or not. She and my father came into DC three days before the wedding. But judging by the looks of the window-enclosed banquet
room at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, she’d done a lot of planning over the phone. One hundred guests were invited to the rehearsal
dinner, and my boys took full advantage of the top-shelf open bar. They raised their cups to me multiple times. To the rich boy, they would say. That had been a running joke since we were in college.


Here I was, thirty-two years old, a successful political attorney, and my millionaire parents were still trying to make up
for lost time, mend our estranged relationship, do what they assumed good parents do. I know my mother at least regretted
that while they were building a multimillion-dollar law firm, I was being nurtured by the nanny, the housekeeper, and even
the gardener at times. I was off to college in a matter of minutes, as my mother explains. They had totally missed my childhood
and probably knew less about me than they would have liked. The plan was for me to go off to Hampton for undergrad, then on
to law school at Columbia and back to Arizona to work my way to partner in Patterson & Patterson, but I diverged from the
course. I got married during my second year in law school—big mistake, by the way. And I wanted a real relationship with my
daughter and I couldn’t allow her to be second to my success. So, I decided to find my own path and stayed in New York after
law school to give my daughter the security she deserved, even after her mother and I called it quits.


Despite the awkward relationship with my parents, they have always been my financial backbone, and I plan to follow their
professional path. The only thing I’d yet to master was to marry someone who could potentially be my business partner. However,
in my relationship, I planned to be the leader and not be like my father, who seemed to be led around like a puppy. My mother
was clearly the mastermind behind the Patterson & Patterson empire. My father always seemed to be along for the ride.


I looked across the room at my bride-to-be and smiled, hoping I had found that partner. She had all the checkmarks. She was
a successful attorney as well, daughter of a prestigious Baptist minister and effortlessly classy. I walked in her direction
and my smile got bigger as I got closer. Her fitted, green strapless dress accentuated her tall, shapely figure, and the color
made her maple-brown skin sparkle. She gave me her usual doublewide smile, and her plump lips glistened. Her big eyes squinted
and she batted her long lashes as I approached. Long, black, straight hair was weaved into her normally ear-length hair, and
it flowed down her back as if it belonged to her.


As I reached for her hand, I couldn’t help feeling lucky. Taylor was the baddest chick left in the game. By thirty, most women
were scarred and ruined by the bad selection of men out here, so they couldn’t recognize a good man with bifocals. Taylor,
on the other hand, was just one year younger than me, but she was uninhibited, carefree, and didn’t sweat the small stuff.
She was beauty, brains, and bedroom skills all packaged in one. When I met her, I knew she would look good by my side, professionally
and physically.


My mother stood up, wearing a stiff baby blue business suit in the middle of June, looking like Hillary Clinton’s twin sister,
and chimed her glass with a fork to gain everyone’s attention. Taylor’s parents smiled, anxious to hear what she had to say.
I felt a little edgy, because my parents had invited several of their fellow Stanford alumni friends, and she was in her element.
Taylor’s guests looked around as if to say: Who the hell is this white woman? It wasn’t something that I had branded on my
forehead—or in my physical characteristics, for that matter—so people were always shocked to discover that I was biracial.


“I must say that this wedding came as a big surprise for me. I mean, I just met Taylor yesterday. Devin called me, it seems
like two weeks ago, and said, ‘I’m getting married.’ I said, ‘To who?’” she said, chuckling.


The crowd gasped, and Taylor looked like she could disappear. My eyes shot daggers at my mother, and I held Taylor’s hand
tightly and apologetically. She waved a napkin at Taylor and me to suggest we not be so sensitive. She continued, “But I’m
sure if my son picked you, you’re quite a gem. Devin has a heart of gold. I just hope that he is everything you dreamed of,
because he is truly a good man.”


She doesn’t even know what kind of man I am. Hesitant claps trickled throughout the room. Based on people’s confused expressions,
they probably wondered what was the purpose of her comment, but I knew my mother. She said exactly what she wanted to say
when she wanted to say it. The translation for what she was saying was, “I don’t even know this ho. Devin, is this just another
one of your public-service projects? Well, if it’s not, this chick better be good to you.”


She’d pretty much made everyone uncomfortable. I wondered if she was plain old oblivious to the way she insulted people or
if she was so used to being the boss that she was desensitized. What the hell could I do? She was my mother. As fucked-up
as she was, she was what God gave me. Shortly after, the guests began to bail out one by one. Taylor looked irritated, and
I held her hand to remind her of all the things I’d warned her about my mother. My parents lived between Arizona and Florida,
and with their busy schedules and mine I got to see them a maximum of twice a year, so her personality wouldn’t pose a problem
in my relationship.


On the other hand, I was glad my mother cleared the room. It was time for the bachelor party. All of my line brothers were
already drunk, and I knew it would be off the chain. I gave Taylor a long hug, kissing her bare shoulders. Her ever-glossed
lips pecked me on the cheek.


“Baby, I’ll see you at the altar.”

My hand rested on the small of her back, as I looked her up and down for the last time before she would be Mrs. Devin Patterson.
Her height made it appear that she always wore heels, so no one took notice of the casual flip-flops she sported. She claimed
she didn’t want to tire her feet before the big day. I kissed her again. “I wouldn’t miss it, TJ.”


I rounded up the fellas and we headed out of the hotel like twenty-year-olds who were on their way to visit a strip joint
for the first time. Most of them were married or in long-term relationships, so this would be the first time in a long time
that multiple chicks grinded on them at once. I couldn’t wait to be where they were: stable. I was tired of the game, tired
of dumb-ass girls. Which was probably why I was four months into the relationship and already tying the knot. One thing was
sure: My parents didn’t raise a fool. I didn’t plan on letting a good thing pass me by twice. Taylor was going to be mine
against all odds.


And boy, did we have odds. I met Taylor at the Congressional Black Caucus in DC a few years back. We danced at a party and
I was feeling her physically, but of course I was guilty of assuming she was a fine chick with nothing to offer. When I found
out that she was also a corporate attorney and worked for the Train Workers Union, I immediately thought we could be the next
DC power couple. She, on the other hand, couldn’t see the possibilities and kept telling me that she had a man. She never
told me much about him, just that he existed. A part of me believed he was just imaginary. Still, she wouldn’t give me what
I wanted, so I laid low for a while, opting for intermittent friendship.


At the time I was between DC and New York, so whenever I came to DC I’d give her a call and we’d hang out. If you want something
to happen bad enough, keep checking in. One day, I hit her up and she told me that she had broken up with that nameless, faceless
dude she’d been calling her man. I wasted no time making her my girl. It was right around my thirty-first birthday, and I
felt like she was my gift. I couldn’t wait to have her on my arm at the party I was planning. She and her best friend, Courtney,
came up to New York and arrived at the house a few hours before the party.


When we got to the club, all of my boys gave the head nod; she was a winner, and everyone could see. When my best friend,
Jason, and his girlfriend, Akua, walked in, it seemed like the entire club stopped moving, the music skipped a beat, and Taylor
looked like she’d seen a ghost. Jason scowled at Taylor. I was confused and my eyes shifted from Taylor to Jason to Akua.
Clearly, they’d all met before, and this definitely was not a happy reunion.


Taylor had told me that the guy she was seeing while I pursued her was her high school sweetheart and she’d broken his heart
way back when. But after running into him at their ten-year class reunion, she’d successfully stolen him from his girlfriend.
I’m thinking this dude lived in the Maryland-DC area or somewhere close. Maybe I didn’t ask enough questions, because Jason
was the guy and he lived in Connecticut, and as far as I knew Jason and Akua had never broken up.


While I was shocked that our worlds intersected in such a crazy way, I was pissed to think that Taylor was dissin’ me for
a dude who already had someone. I couldn’t believe the chick that I’d hyped up in my mind was just another dumb girl. I was
mad as shit. I was mad at Taylor for being stupid, and I was madder at Jason, because after all we’d been through he could
have told me he had a chick on the side in DC. Had he done that, we wouldn’t have had this problem.


Taylor made it seem like she realized Jason wasn’t what she wanted and that’s why they stopping dealing with each other, but
Jason claimed he didn’t want to leave Akua. He said that Akua was the better woman and Taylor was crushed when he broke it
off. He thought Taylor might have intentionally targeted me for revenge. Jason and I debated whether she could have known
we were line brothers and if our relationship was nothing more than an attack on him. I tried to explain that I chased her
and she couldn’t have possibly known. He wasn’t having it. Jason was adamant that she’d masterminded this entire situation.


Momentarily, I wanted to believe that she was a snake in the grass. Then my wisdom kicked in: There was no way possible she
could have known we were connected. Taylor was never the type to play the who-do-you-know or what-do-you-do games. In fact,
she hated “status probing,” as she called it, and avoided it at all costs. Not to mention, at the time I was between New York
and DC. Jason and Akua were in Connecticut, and Taylor was in Maryland. What were the chances? Still, my boy looked me in
my eye and told me that no matter if Taylor did this intentionally or not, he really didn’t want any of his boys with her.
Taylor was his girl that got away. So without question or regret, I ended it right there because men don’t expose those kind
of weak feelings for random chicks. I shook his hand and promised him that he never had to worry. There were too many women
out here.


After more bad conversations, more bad dates, more you’re-such-a-good-man-I-want-to-marry-you-now chicks, I broke my promise.
I could search the whole world, which I had, and never find someone to click with the way Taylor and I did. In the most upstanding
way, I let Jason know that I planned to see where it went with her. I told him as calmly and as honestly as possible that
he had a good woman and I didn’t, so I deserved one, too. Me wanting to be with Taylor should validate our friendship, not
destroy it. Hell, it only meant we both had good taste. Initially, he laughed it off and told me to do what I had to do. He
claimed his sideline with Taylor only strengthened his relationship with Akua. We danced around the fact that there would
be no couples vacations or double dates. That would be too much, but still we were boys and that took precedence over any
soft-ass feelings.


Three months later, my ultimate goal of running for United States Congress seemed attainable. My advisors told me that my
chances were greater if I were married. Voters tend to support politicians they see as committed. There was a part of me that
wanted to get to know Taylor better. Then there was the side that said that I’d seen enough already and why not. I contemplated
all of two days before I drove down to Tyson’s Corner and snatched up a 2.7-karat clear-as-hell solitaire in a platinum channel-set
2.0-karat diamond band from Tiffany.


When I asked Taylor, she took nearly five minutes to say yes. My heart pounded and I regretted it for those moments. This is too much for her to handle, I thought. We don’t know each other that well.


Finally, she shrugged. “Devin Patterson, why wouldn’t I marry you?”

I told her that I wanted it to be done quick and fast. Partly because I wanted to be married for at least a few months before
I submitted my application for the election and partly before I came to my senses. After we set the date, it was time to announce
to the world that I’d found the one again and this time would be for good. That was when Jason lost his damn mind. He basically
called me every bitch-ass, backstabbing, no-good-for-nothing, rich-boy, spoiled-ass, selfish-motherfucker name in the book.
It wasn’t until that moment that I realized the extent of their little fling, but I was in too deep. I was in love, and Taylor
was my only serious girlfriend since my divorce, nearly seven years ago. So I really didn’t have a choice. My only recourse
was to get Jason to empathize with me.


I went up to Connecticut and reasoned with him. He hung his head. “So, you really love her?”

Holding my chest up, I said, “Yeah, man. And you know I haven’t felt like this for anyone since—”

“Clark. Yeah, I know. So, what about her?”

My eyebrows scrunched up. What the hell was he talking about? “Look, man, Clark is a married woman.”

“Nah, I’m saying what would you say if I told you that I loved Clark and wanted to marry your old girlfriend? A chick that
you had mad love for.”


I gazed off for a minute and then stared him dead in the eye. “Look, man, I would shoot you if you even thought about dating Clark.” I laughed a little. “If you tell me you feel as strongly for Taylor as I felt for Clark, I’ll call it
off.”


He reached out to shake my hand. “Nah, dawg. It’s not that heavy. Do what you have to do. Taylor would probably work out better
for someone like you.”


“And besides, you got the baddest chick out here anyway,” I said, referring to his orthopedic-surgeon, sexy-ass, love-his-dirty-drawers
fiancée. We made amends that day, and I was cocky enough to ask him if he’d be my best man. He agreed with a smile.


The wedding had become way more than I expected. Taylor and I wanted something simple, but her father was a pastor of a church
with about six thousand members, and her mother was in charge of the bridal ministry. So, in less than five weeks, we had
nearly five hundred invited guests, a host of church members who planned to just come see us exchange vows. It was all too
much for me. The one simple thing that Taylor and I were able to control was we didn’t want a whole slew of bridesmaids and
groomsmen. Her best friend, Courtney, the maid of honor, and Jason, my best man, were the only members of the bridal party.


The fellas rented a Stretch Hummer to drive us from the rehearsal dinner to the bachelor party. As soon as we hopped in, we
started taking shots, drinking beer, talking loud, and just flat out celebrating the biggest decision a man can make. In the
midst of all the noise and the partying in the limo, I didn’t pay attention to where we were going. When we pulled up to my
condo, I was confused. They started spilling out of the truck when the chauffeur opened the door. I looked at Jason and he
said, “The party is here, dawg.”


I jumped out and we poured into my bachelor pad. The place was sprawling with sexy-ass chicks wearing skimpy thongs and those
hooker heels. They walked around feeding us desserts, kissing on us, and making me question whether I was making the right
choice. There were like three chicks assigned to me at all times, even while each girl performed, a girl personally entertained
me. In a quick glimpse at Jason, a dark cloud hovered over his dark skin. His forehead rippled like he was stressed, as he
stared aimlessly at the dancers. I excused myself from the ladies and staggered over to my boy. His eyes were red and steam
was rising from his bald head. The pit of my stomach felt funny as I stood in front of him. Before I could ask what was going
on with him, he looked into my eyes and said, “You always got to jump on something before somebody else gets it, huh?”


“Man, c’mon now. Stop trippin’.”

Jason was always the one who didn’t mind shedding a tear, and it looked like he was about to. I was too intoxicated for that
comical shit. I snickered, and he looked up at me like he hated me. His stood up and rammed into me and my back banged into
the opposite wall, instantly cracking it. After shaking the shock, I punched him in the face.


The dancers, our line brothers, and everyone else watched on in awe. If they hadn’t been so caught off-guard, they probably
would have tried to stop it. It was as if everyone’s mouth was open, but no one spoke. We trampled over furniture; fixtures
and glasses clanked as they fell to the floor. No one even tried to stop me from whipping Jason’s ass. They watched like we
were scheduled entertainment. He kept calling me a punk-ass nigga, but I couldn’t help thinking how much of a punk he was.
He would have been better off saying something months ago. I slammed his six-foot-two muscular body around like I was a Marvel
superhero. I don’t know where the strength came from. Even though we were about the same height, Jason was more bulky than
me. Maybe I would have called off the damn wedding if I knew this clown would act like this. Here I was again, like déjà vu.
Clark had waited moments before I married Jennifer to profess her love for me and to tell me that I was making a big mistake
and that she and I belonged together. Why was I dealing with shit again right before my wedding?


As Jason and I fought all the way into the guest bedroom, everyone shifted from location to location with us. Finally, I threw
his bag at him.


“Get the hell out of my house, punk.”

He slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and stormed from my house. A part of me was concerned that he was too drunk to drive,
but I was obviously not concerned enough to go after him. Everyone was confused, but I wasn’t up for explaining. I looked
at Brandon. “I hope you can fit that tux in there.”


He shook my hand and patted my back. “I gotchu, man.”

I walked into my bedroom and slammed the door. During the fight, I was too pissed to rationalize the situation, but the blood
stains on Jason’s polo shirt and the look in his eyes as I slammed the door haunted me. My mind raced and I really couldn’t
sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about all we’d been through. With the wedding just hours away, I figured I shouldn’t sweat
it. I had too much respect for Taylor to call it off now. If this shit didn’t work out, I wasn’t doing it anymore. I loved
Taylor enough to at least give it a shot. I ran my hand down my face. Taylor J, you better be worth all this bullshit.




When are you supposed to come to grips with an anti-climactic life? No one could have convinced me that I wouldn’t be jet-setting
around the world, in mad, breathtaking love, with a bunch of kids, a nanny to help me, and a bottomless spending account.
It seems like all those dreams slipped away in a nightmare nine years ago on New Year’s Day. I was just twenty-five years
old then, and what should have been a celebration of a new beginning marked the end of my best friend’s life. Tanisha and
I had been inseparable from the time we were nine and ten. In a crazed state, her then f. . .