Mad 'Cause She Ain't You

Genres: African American; African American Urban

Synopsis

Ebony, Phoenix and Joi are three thirty-somethings with some serious man problems!
Ebony thinks that she's found love with Dray, her boyfriend of three years, until she discovers that their relationship is not what it once was. Ebony is not ready to be without a man in her life. Will her trust issues and broken heart make her go back to her promiscuous ways?
Phoenix is attractive, single, and childless. She has a successful career and lives a very comfortable lifestyle. One would think that she's a great catch, but when her superficial, diva-like ways threaten her chances to be with someone who truly loves her, is she willing to make a change?
Joi gets nothing but drama because her man, Tate, has a baby with his ex-girlfriend. Joi is determined to have Tate all to herself, by any means necessary. Will she finally get her man, or will her ploy to get Tate end up doing more harm than good to their relationship?
Mad 'Cause She Ain't You explores the frustrating, sometimes hilarious side of sex and love in the lives of three black women. Find out who learns the lessons, and who will have to repeat the class.

Release date: January 1, 2013

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

Ebony

As the giant clock on my living room wall ticked on, I was getting more and more impatient with my son’s father, Shah. He was supposed to be picking up our son for the weekend and he was running late. I was already aggravated because my so-called boyfriend, Drayton, had been promising to return my phone calls for almost a week and I hadn’t heard from him. I was just a bundle of nerves all across the board.

As of late, Dray had been giving me the brush-off. His attention was waning and we weren’t spending as much time with each other as we used to. That was when I came to the conclusion that our on-again, off-again relationship was finally at the end of its road. It was quite obvious that my man of three years was cheating. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. And poor me. I had been hanging on to Dray’s scrotum for dear life, even though I knew damn well that our relationship had been a wrap for the past year.

I probably had more experience in dealing with cheating-ass men than I had in a quality relationship. Even Shah had cheated on me when we were together. So sad. And it wasn’t hard for me to detect the signs—my female instincts never steered me wrong. I mean, come on, man, did these guys really think that I was stupid?

What was wrong with me? I had asked myself the question that I think every woman may have asked themselves at least once in their lifetime. And that wasn’t the only question I asked. Why did it seem as if I was always dating the same type of guy? Was it the creeps I chose to get involved with the problem or was it something about me that led them astray?

There were over a hundred answers and a thousand books written as to why men cheat but I didn’t need any of those. All I needed was one answer to that one nagging question. All I wanted to know was why did my boyfriends keep cheating on me?

The problems between Dray and I began shortly after our two-year anniversary in September, 2010. Dray had been complaining about every little thing I did and insisted on picking arguments with me. That was when the light bulb went off in my head.

It’s another woman, I told myself. Please don’t tell me that this shit is happening to me again.

Instead of confronting Dray about my fears, I did my emotional suffering in silence. Plus, I wanted to play fair. I did not want to outright accuse the man without any physical evidence because of a gut feeling that I had. Another reason I chose to keep quiet was because I was almost pretty sure that Dray would have used these reservations as a platform to sever the ties with me. I figured that he was just looking for a way out and I wasn’t about to make it easy for him. Yes, there was always this nagging insecurity that had me thinking that Dray would be the one to leave me. And truthfully, I didn’t want to lose him. What I really wanted was for us to work on our relationship.

I found myself daydreaming, thinking back to the good old days when Dray and I first got together. I met Dray in March of 2006. He was a transit police officer, and I a station agent for the Metropolitan Transit Authority. In the beginning, there wasn’t much dialogue between us and it damn sure wasn’t any love at first sight. Before I actually got to know Dray, I truly thought that he was just another self-absorbed, conceited jackass. At least, that was the impression that he gave me. He had this standoffish attitude that I didn’t like and I didn’t bother to speak to his ass because of it.

A few months after we met, I began noticing the flirtatious glances that Dray was giving me. I didn’t entertain it, though because, honestly, he was so strikingly handsome that I was actually intimidated by the guy. Not to mention, I couldn’t help but wonder, why was he trying to flirt with me? What was he up to?

When the flirting became too much for me to bear, we ended up exchanging phone numbers with each other. But instead of getting romantically involved right away, Dray and I became really good friends. Although the sexual chemistry was what eventually sealed the deal between us two, our friendship was what initially made me fall in love with Drayton Jackson.

On the afternoon of September 25, 2008, after two and a half years of a strictly platonic friendship, we took things to a whole ’nother level. I was stationed at the A train Jay Street subway station in Brooklyn and Dray was on patrol duty at the Hoyt-Schemerhorn station, one train stop away. He had taken it upon himself to make a special trip to my post to take me out to lunch that day.

My face lit up when I saw Dray walking toward me. I opened the door to let him inside the booth.

“What’s up, Mr. Bestie?” I said, giving him a friendly hug.

Dray hugged me back then gave me a nod of approval. “You’re looking mighty good in that uniform today, girl!” he said, biting his bottom lip. I playfully slapped his arm. “Now, where are we going to eat?” he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “It doesn’t matter where we eat. I’m just happy that you’re treating your old buddy, old pal to a meal,” I replied, patting his shoulder in the process.

Dray smiled at me. “Anything for my girl,” he said with a wink.

It was about 12:30 P.M. when my coworker came to relieve me for lunch. I gathered up my belongings and told Dray to wait for me while I went to use the restroom. But instead of waiting for me near the booth, Dray followed closely behind me.

I didn’t think that anything was strange about him following me until I unlocked the door to the bathroom. Dray quickly pushed me inside, locking the door behind us.

(I just stood there, in complete shock. I didn’t know what was about to happen, but at the same time I knew what was about to happen, if you know what I mean. The way that I was feeling at that moment . . . I knew that I was ready to have sex with Dray. I could remember how excited I was, yet thinking, If this Negro’s sex game is wack, our friendship is going to be so over!)

“Boy, are you crazy?” I asked him with a half-confused /half-amused look on my face. “What the hell are you trying to do?”

Dray stood there with this horn dog look on his face. “Just go on and use the damn toilet, girl,” he said, waving me off, with a smirk on his face. “I’m not bothering you.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. Dray’s actions had me totally thrown off. “Just know that you’re tripping right now, homie.”

I shook my head at him and stepped into the stall. I took a quick pee, flushed the toilet, and got myself together before I opened the door.

When I walked toward the sink to wash my hands, I got a surprise—a really big one. There was Dray, standing near the sink, all six feet two inches of his fine self. His uniform pants were at his ankles and he was holding his rock-hard, nine-inch penis in his hand. Dray’s uniform shirt was off, showing off those fabulous biceps of his. The fitted tank top he was wearing was enough to give me a visual of a six-pack that would put any P90X or Insanity workout fool to shame.

“Wash your hands,” Dray ordered while he held on to his erect penis. I did as I told. “Now come over here to me, baby,” he said. I did that too.

Most women would have been turned off by Dray’s straightforwardness, but for me, fine men and a rock-hard dick had always been my Kryptonite. I felt my knees getting weak, as the song “Your Body’s Callin’” by R. Kelly kept playing over and over in my head.

I slowly walked up to Dray. He wrapped his strong, calloused hands around the back of my neck and began kissing me. Then he massaged my ample breasts with one hand, while opening the buttons of my white MTA uniform shirt with the other. Things began getting hot and heavy so I took my boots off. I unbuttoned my uniform pants and kicked them bad boys to the side.

Dray pushed my back against the cold tiled wall. This was when we shared another sweet, passionate kiss while he rubbed his python between my legs. My clitoris was on fire from the friction and the more he dick-teased me, the more I wanted him to take me.

Then I felt myself being lifted off my feet. Slightly up in the air, I wrapped my legs around Dray’s thirty-four-inch waist. (I was an avid condom user but I wasn’t going to lie, Dray entered me raw dog and I didn’t object to it one bit. Of course, I didn’t know what I was thinking but, shoot, nothing else mattered but having Dray’s oversized man meat inside of me.)

When Dray first entered me, we started off by grinding slowly. But that slow grind didn’t last but so long. After a few minutes, we were caught up in the heat of the moment and our encounter intensified with every stroke, every moan and groan. Dray was pummeling and punishing my pussy; he was teaching me a lesson that I had never been taught. As for me, there were these strange sounds coming from my mouth. Not only did Dray’s sex arouse the animal in me but it was so good that he almost made tears come to my eyes.

“Oh, Dray, baby, what are you doing to me?” I said, whispering in his ear.

“I’m claiming this pussy, baby,” he replied, while long-stroking me into oblivion. “This is my pussy, right? I want this pussy to be mine and only mine.”

“Make it yours, baby, make all of this yours,” I replied between humps.

And claim it Dray did. Shit, the sex was more than what I had ever imagined. (I was still trying to remember how, but we ended up laid out on that bathroom floor—a bathroom that was the property of New York City Metropolitan Transit Authority. It was super gross. But when you’re in the heat of the moment, all of that was irrelevant.)

Meanwhile, Dray still hadn’t cum. He had me squirming with pleasure as his rock-hard rod hit every nerve ending of my sugar walls. Five minutes later, he sent me into multi-orgasmic fits, as the excitement of getting caught by somebody made our liaison even more risqué.

In the meantime, my orgasms didn’t stop me from returning the favor. I tightened my box around Dray’s rock-hard dick and he began pumping faster. Times like these made Kegel exercises worth every minute.

Dray’s eyes began to roll in the back of his head. “Oh, damn, baby! Oh, you got me . . . you got me . . .” he began stuttering.

“Got you what?” I asked, taking the liberty of talking as dirty as I wanted to. “Tell me, motherfucker! Tell me what I got you doing!”

“You got me about to cuuuuum inside this pussy, baby,” Dray replied in a barely audible voice.

Dray called out my name and, man, was he loud! I wouldn’t have been surprised if the commuters heard his yelling over the damn trains. Suddenly, his body began to quiver, letting every drop of his warm semen shoot inside of me and I had yet another orgasm.

So there we were, laid out on the cold floor for a few minutes, trying to digest what just happened. We looked around the drab bathroom and at the peeling grey paint on the walls. The realization of where we were immediately bought us back to our senses. We quickly hopped up from the floor and began cracking up. Dray pulled up his uniform pants, not even bothering to wash my lady scent off him. He picked up his gun holster from the floor and put it back around his waist. I grabbed a few brown paper towels from the dispenser to try to wash myself off. I wouldn’t have wanted to spend the remaining three hours of my shift sitting in that booth with a sticky punany and smelling like straight sex.

When Dray finished dressing, he just stood there and watched me while I got myself together. He leaned over and kissed me on the forehead.

“You all right, girl?” he asked while rubbing my face.

I put my pants back on and buttoned my shirt. “Oh, yes, I’m real good now,” I replied. “I’m not going to lie, Dray—I didn’t expect to get all of that.”

A smug expression came over Dray’s face. He waited until I was fully dressed to speak.

“So what are we going to do, Ebony?” he asked, with a serious look on his face.

“Okay, give me a minute,” I replied, thinking that he was referring to our lunch date. “I’m coming right now. I just have to fix my hair before we walk out of here.”

Dray waved me off. “Nah, girl, I’m not talking about that. I’ve been thinking that I want us to be more than just friends.”

I was looking in the mirror, putting a fresh coat of Bobbi Brown gloss on my lips. But when Dray said that to me, I had to stop and give him the side eye. If I wasn’t mistaken, it sounded like Dray was talking about getting serious with me.

I was flattered but I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. “Is that what you want from me—something serious?”

Dray gave me a tender kiss and I wiped the gloss off his lips with my thumb.

“Yes, I do,” he replied, looking into my eyes. “It’s obvious that we’re more than friends now—we just had sex with each other. But I don’t want us to be just friends with benefits. I want us to work on having a committed relationship.”

The words coming out of Dray’s mouth sounded like music to my ears. Shoot, even I had to admit that over time, I had developed some very strong feelings for the man. I had suppressed these feelings only because I was afraid that Dray didn’t want to get serious with me or anyone else for that matter.

“Are you sure, Dray? Because I really don’t want this to ruin our friendship.” I didn’t know why I asked that, but a part of me needed to see if Dray was real about what he was saying to me.

Dray shook his head. “Ruin our friendship? Damn, Ebony. We just fucked each other right on this bathroom floor! And don’t get it twisted; it’s more than just lust for me. I’m feeling you—I have always been feeling you. Aren’t you feeling me?”

I sighed. “Of course I am.”

Dray held me in his arms and we shared yet another intimate kiss. And that was our defining moment. I felt so safe being in his arms. After doing the single life for the past five years, I knew then that it was time for me to love again.

“So what are we waiting for?” Dray asked. I smiled. “It’s official! From now on, you’re my woman and I’m your man.”

And that was all she wrote.

Yep, that day in September was the day that Dray and I established that we were going to pursue a relationship with each other. Now all of that barely mattered anymore. I couldn’t keep my mind off Dray, our effed-up situation, and how he was possibly playing me. Now I was waiting for late-ass Shah to pick up his son. All of this had me in a shitty mood.

Aside from all of these negative feelings floating around, I had to thank my sweet Baby Jesus that Kare wasn’t adding to my aggravation. My sweet little angel was as quiet as a church mouse, playing games on my laptop and watching television in my bedroom. And I was even more thankful that he hadn’t noticed that his father was running late. I was glad that he was being a good boy, because I wasn’t in the mood for anything else but good behavior. But it would have been unfair of me to take out my frustrations on my child. He didn’t have a damn thing to do with his wayward father or my man problems. It’s just that I didn’t have the patience to deal.

It was already 6:30 P.M. when Mister Shah decided to call me back. This was later than usual for him. I answered the call, hoping that he would have a good excuse. I didn’t want to have to cuss his ass out.

“Where are you, Shah?” I asked impatiently as soon as I answered the phone.

“Hello to you too, baby mother,” Shah greeted me, with this annoying chuckle.

Shah and I had broken up five years ago when Kare was only three years old. At one time, we didn’t get along with each other for shit. This time around, we were trying to work on having a civilized relationship with each other for the sake of our son. We had a long way to go because, unfortunately, I still had to act like a bitch every now and again. This was one of those times.

“What the hell?” I yelled into the phone. “Will you please come and get your son? Where are you anyway? I’ve been calling you for the last hour and a half!”

I knew that Shah was bothered by my questioning. “I’m on my way now. And don’t worry about where I was,” he replied, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “You’re acting like Kare is asking for me or something! Is the boy crying? Is he upset that I’m not there yet?”

“No, he’s not! But that’s not the point.”

“So what is the point?” asked the frustrated Shah. “We go through this same shit every other weekend. You always get upset with me when I don’t be there at the time you want me to be there.”

I walked into the kitchen and poured me a glass of Sweet Bitch, my favorite wine. I took a big gulp. I needed to calm my nerves.

“Listen, Shah, the only thing that I told you to do was be here at five o’clock! It’s an hour and a half later! All I’m saying is get on your job.”

Shah groaned. “Whatever,” he mumbled, knowing that he was no match for my wrath. “Anyway, is Kare ready to go or what?”

“Um, yeah! What do you think? He’s been ready to go.”

“And you’re gonna stop talking to me any which-away,” Shah added. “Just be happy that Kare has an active father who’s involved in his life. Its so many trifling dudes out there who don’t see or even acknowledge their got-damn kids. I make it my business to see mine and do what I have to do for him.”

I wasn’t trying to hear anything that Shah said. I just wanted him to make it his business to pick up Kare at the time he was supposed to.

“Okay, don’t start that up again. I know what kind of father you are. Woopity-do-dah.”

Shah ignored my smart remark and moved on to another topic. “Now that we got that out the way, I have to go to Pennsylvania on Sunday night, early Monday morning. I’m going to take Kare to the UniverSoul Circus that Sunday afternoon. Then I’m going to have to drop him off at my mother’s house on Sunday evening. Mom Dukes is off from work on Monday and she said with your permission, she’ll take him to school that morning. You can pick him up from her house when you get off work Monday evening.”

The mention of my former “mother-in-law” put a smile on my face. “Sure, she can,” I said. “I wouldn’t mind seeing Ms. Banks. I haven’t seen her in a minute. How is she doing?”

“She’s doing pretty well. She still calls you her ‘daughter, ’ you know.”

“That’s the fuck right!” I exclaimed, adding some extra cuss words in order to drive my point home. “And she’s always gonna be my second mother. You better let your bitches know that, too!”

Shah couldn’t stand it when I cussed and I knew that. “What’s with all the profanity? Damn!” I envisioned him shaking his head at me. “Some things just don’t change.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’ll be at your house in like, ten minutes, man. I’m on Rockaway Parkway and Linden Boulevard right now.”

“Yeah, a’ight,” I said, disconnecting the phone call. I exhaled. My baby boy was about to be out of there. Once he left, I could drink the rest of my Sweet Bitch and work on getting my mind right.

Exactly one minute after I hung up the phone from Shah, who exits the bedroom like clockwork? It was none other than the man of the hour, Master Kare Banks himself. He appeared in the living room, dragging his personalized duffel bag with him. It was packed with his clothes and he had his jacket and hat in the other hand. It looked like Kare was just as much ready to go as I was for him to leave.

I shook my head at the sight of my Kare Bear. I was his mother so it was only right if I thought that he was the cutest kid ever. My baby had the most beautiful sun-kissed brown skin and head full of curly hair. And he was the spitting image of that damn Shah.

Kare walked over to where I was sitting on the couch. He wrapped his skinny arms around my neck and gave me a big, tight hug and a kiss.

“I can’t wait to see my daddy, Mommy,” he said.

“Aww! I know that you can’t wait, Kare Bear,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. “You love you some Daddy, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” he replied, looking at me as if I was off my rocker for asking him such a dumb question. “And I have to tell him what I want for Christmas, too.”

My eyes widened. “For Christmas?” I asked. “It’s the middle of April, Kare!”

“I know, Mommy, but I’m doing my Christmas list early so that everybody will have time to get my things. And I don’t want a lot of stuff, either,” Kare replied, while playing with my ear. That was something that he had been doing ever since he was a baby.

“Okay,” I said, thinking that making an early Christmas list made a lot of sense. I was definitely curious to see what was on it. “What do you mean that you ‘don’t want a lot of stuff’?”

Kare smiled, revealing his two front rabbit teeth. They had just grown back after falling out six months before his eighth birthday. “I want Daddy to get me a laptop, not a notebook—that’s for babies.”

“Oh, okay, you want a big boy laptop—”

Kare cut me off. “Yes! And, Mommy, you can get me an iPhone.”

A look of surprise came over my face. Whatever happened to the times when kids just wanted G.I. Joes and Barbies?

“But you just turned eight years old, Kare!” I replied. “Don’t you think that you’re a little too young to have a cell phone, let alone an iPhone?” I asked, with a look of concern. I thought about all of the thieving bastards out there who would be trying to kill my baby for that contraption.

“Nope! This boy in my class named Jaylen has an iPhone and he’s eight too!”

“All righty then . . .”

“And Auntie Phoenix can get me a Nintendo DS, my grandmothers could get me some games for my DS, and Auntie Joi could get me some Jordans.”

“But, Kare—”

He continued talking. “And Auntie Tedra could get me some games for my PlayStation—”

I cut him off right there. Tedra was my older sister and she was cheap as hell. That was the wrong somebody to be asking for a Christmas present.

“Okay, okay, chill out, Tonto!” I said, h. . .