Dedication
Standing on the front porch, hearing the birds chirp and watching a beautiful breeze sweep across everyone’s brow, I see her. My grandmother . . . the strangest smile dancing across her face.
I ask, “Are you ready for your walk?”
“I guess so,” she replies. “I need to get some exercise in this old body. Seems like it just doesn’t want to act right.”
Immediately I go to her and grab her hand, a hand that has seventy-two years’ worth of strength in it.
“I hope we are not going to walk too far. I can’t go as long as I used to or walk as far as you,” she says.
“Don’t worry, we’ll just make the block,” I tell her.
Down the street we walk, around the corner on the same paved road that I played on as a child. I couldn’t help but reminisce about the many times this wonderful woman stood on the porch where we now began our daily walks and yelled out my name when the streetlights came on. A sign that playtime was over.
Now here we are . . . standing in the parking lot of a high school that four generations of my family attended. She looks at it, taking it all in, then dispenses some uncanny wisdom: “The world doesn’t slow down, you know; only people.”
We sit on a bench, and I lean over to her and kiss her on her cheek, saying, “I love you, Grandma.”
“I love you too, honey,” she replies.
Another few minutes go by as we just sit and relax. A pigeon walks up to us and sits on the other end of the bench, next to Grandma. And it’s just the three of us. She, me, and a bird—an oddly strange yet remarkably beautiful bird that has the freedom to fly to places we can only imagine. The bird jumps into her lap, startling me, but Grandma sits there with the strength of a marble statue. I watch in awe as this bird lays its head on her, as if it too was longing for a piece of her wisdom. We get a great laugh out of it.
“You ready?” I finally ask.
“Yeah,” she smiles. “I’m ready to go home.”
We stand up, and the courageous bird flies away, toward the direction of home, as if it were some kind of guide. We follow. When we get to the house, I stop, but Grandma keeps going. She goes farther than I ever could, to places where the courageous birds go.
You go, Grandma; you fly away . . . lift your wings and soar through Heaven. I’m walking for you down here, strutting your stroll and continuing your legacy. We are okay. You just fly on, Grandma, side by side with God. Save a spot for me, though, for one day, we will all sit together again.
This book is dedicated to you,
Lois Loretta Young Guidry Johnson, my grandma.
Acknowledgments
I must first give honor to You, God, and thank You for Your presence and Your promise to Your people so that we may fulfill Your purpose. It is in Your will and name that I complete my first novel. Without You, none of this would be possible. You are truly a wonderful and awesome God. I thank You for all that You have done in my life.
Where do I begin? To my mom, Manon C. Johnson, who had me at sixteen years old. Although you put your dreams aside to take care of me, you never stopped encouraging my dreams. No matter how crazy my ideas were, you never said they weren’t going to work (even when they didn’t). I can never repay you for all the love, time, and energy you put into me, but I will do my best to come close.
To the best sisters in the whole world—Miracah, Simone, and Angela—the three angels in my corner. When everyone else doubted me, I could always count on you to stand by me. We’ve come a long way, but it ain’t over yet!
Thanks also to Francis and Little Frank. I look up to you just as much as you look up to me.
Grandma and Grandpa, my heroes, my spiritual role models, you are the epitome of strength. I will always love and admire you both. Although you’re not here in the flesh, I know you are here in the spirit. As you look down on me from Heaven, I pray I make you proud.
To my father, Frank Z. McClain, thank you for being a friend when I needed you to be one. No matter what, I know with you in my corner I’ll always have at least one fan.
Eugene McDaniel, the man who taught me all I know about writing, thank you for the pep talks and pushing me to be the best I can be.
Gary Guidry, my uncle, business partner, and friend, thank you for seeing the vision and helping me to grow it to fruition. We have gone through the trenches and back again. Let’s keep on Keeping on. Also, lots of love to Mona, Taylor, and Paige.
To the I’m Ready Productions Inc. family, ReShonda, Carla, Jai, Javon, Jeremy, Pat, and Mandell. You are the most talented group of people I know. I could not do this without you guys.
My fans who have faithfully come to see all of my plays with I’m Ready Productions Inc., you have supported me over and over and over again as I poured out my soul to you. Thank you for lifting me up. I promise I won’t let you down.
To the Johnson family, it is said that it takes a whole village to raise a child. Thank you for being the village behind me. You guys gave me your last dime so that one of us in the family could make it. I’m glad it was me.
To my two best friends: Ashley Pryor and Jovan Means—what is success without someone you love to share it with?
To Dennis and Prize and Dr. Durrett, thank you for always having my back.
To my spiritual leaders, Pastor Terrence Johnson of Higher Dimension and Bishop James Dixon of the Community of Faith, thank you for teaching me to have faith in my work, for work without faith is void.
To my agents, Charles King and Jay Mandel, and my lawyers, Erach, Wendle, Nina, and Brian, thank you for being my dream team.
To my publicist Lisa Sorenson, thank you for believing I have a voice that’s worthy to be heard.
Ha–G and Debbie May, the two best tour managers in the world. Thank you for holding my tours together and keeping me from falling apart.
To Richard Greer, the most humble and benevolent person I know. Many of our tours would not have happened if it wasn’t for you. You’re the best.
And to all the people that I didn’t mention, know that it doesn’t diminish your place in my life. They just told me I couldn’t thank everybody. Catch you in the next book.
To Sharony, Angela, and all the talented crew at Essence magazine, thank you for listening.
To all of the wonderful actors I have had the pleasure of working with, you know who you are. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your lives. I will never forget the wonderful memories you gave me.
To my newfound book family, Karen Thomas and Linda Duggins. This is the first of many.
I hope you like it, and I look forward to the future. Hit me up at
[email protected] or www.JeCaryous Johnson.com. And make sure you check out the I’m Ready Web site at www.imreadyproductions.com.
Until next time,
Keep praying, keep loving, keep living, keep playing. . . .
Prologue
Caleb
This heifer has lost her mind.
My grandmother would turn over in her grave if she heard me talking about a woman like that, but there simply was no other way to describe the woman standing in the middle of the living room, all puffy-eyed, honey blonde curls cascading down her back, wearing a see-through, four-hundred-dollar Dolce & Gabbana nightgown that my dumb behind was stupid enough to buy.
“Caleb, let me explain,” she cried.
I looked at her, back at him. “So this can be explained?” I glared at her as if she were crazy. How the hell could she explain this?
“Look, man, my beef ain’t with you,” he said.
I stared at him, taking in all six feet two inches of him, wondering if I hauled off and knocked him in his chiseled jaw right now, would he think showing up here had been a bad idea.
“Let me get this straight,” I said, trying my best to stay calm. “You show up at my girl’s crib in the middle of the night, pissed off at my girl ’cause she’s here with me?”
I paced back and forth, trying to remember the speech my grandmother used to always give me about controlling my anger. Count to ten, baby. I heard her voice in my head as if she were right there in the room with me.
I counted to twenty. It wasn’t working.
Kendra walked over and tried to rub my arm. I instinctively jerked away. “Baby, please. It’s not like it seems,” she said.
“Son, are you okay?”
I turned toward my father. I had forgotten he was even in the room. The commotion had brought him out of the guest room. Out of all the nights for this stuff to go down, it had to happen while my dad was visiting from Atlanta.
“Naw, Pops, I’m straight,” I said. “I got this.”
“Dad, I’m so sorry you had to witness this. It’s been over for a while with me and Tony,” Kendra said, tears filling her eyes.
“Dad?” Tony snapped. “I know you didn’t! Two weeks ago, you were all up in my parents’ face, talking about Mama and Daddy.”
I swear, I didn’t think a black woman’s face could turn white, but all the color seemed to instantly drain from Kendra’s caramel-colored face.
“Tony, why are you doing this?” she whined.
“What did you think?” he yelled. “You got this dude lying up in a bed my money bought, and I’m supposed to be okay with that?”
“Hold on.” I looked back and forth between Kendra and Tony. At one time, I thought she was supermodel beautiful, with her exotic looks and perfect figure. But right about now, she was one of the ugliest women I’d ever seen. “I’m confused,” I continued, trying to process everything. Kendra and I have been together for six months and she’d just moved into this condo a month ago. She hadn’t bought anything new, with the exception of her king-size sleigh bed and bedroom set, which she’d just bought with her tax refund check. Or so she said.
I turned to Kendra as reality set in. “Tell me he did not buy this bed.”
She lowered her head in shame.
“I bought the whole bedroom set!” Tony yelled.
At that point, I couldn’t help but laugh. I know they thought I was crazy, but I guess at that moment, I had to laugh to keep from crying. Kendra was a piece of work. I couldn’t believe I was caught up in some madness like this. In addition to making well over six figures, I wasn’t lacking in the looks department. People are always telling me I look like a slightly darker version of the actor Shemar Moore, with a swagger like Denzel Washington, so I never had a problem getting women. It just seemed that I kept getting the wrong women.
“Why are you laughing, Caleb?” she said, obviously not knowing what to make of my sudden outburst of laughter.
“Dang, girl, you good.” I turned to Tony. “You bought the bedroom set, huh?”
He nodded.
“Well, ain’t that something. I bought the living room and dining room set.” I shook my head, still not believing this. Kendra and I hadn’t been together real long, but we definitely were serious about each other. Or so I thought.
Tony, the bonehead standing in my living room right now, was supposed to be a thing of the past. Supposed to be.
“Caleb, please. I’m begging you, let me explain.” She reached out to try to grab my arm. I had to reach back and catch myself because I was about to knock the mess outta her.
“It’s over between me and Tony,” she cried. “I don’t want him. I want you.”
Tony walked over and grabbed her. “Why are you doing this?” he demanded.
She snatched her arm away and came toward me again. “Please, Caleb.” Suddenly she dropped to her knees as tears streamed down her face.
Any other time, that would’ve been all it took. Kendra had my heart on lockdown. Being with her had been pure heaven. She didn’t work. I took care of all the bills, and she took care of me. I loved coming home to her. I looked at the dining room table. We had made love on it Saturday. I looked at the rug in front of the fireplace. Our bodies had become one on that rug. Every inch of this condo had been christened by our love.
My eyes made their way toward the bedroom—a bedroom bought by another man. The sex toys I bought were in the nightstand he bought. I had clothes in the dresser he bought.
Tears formed behind my eyelids as I realized my heaven had turned to hell.
“Baby, we’re good together,” Kendra whimpered, wiping her face. “I love you.”
Tony, obviously disgusted by the sight of Kendra on her knees begging me to give her another chance, said, “Man, you can have this tramp.”
“Naw, bruh. You need to take her with you,” I said.
Kendra pulled herself up. “What?!”
“I said, get out.”
She stared at me for a minute. “You can’t put me out of my own house.”
I looked around the room and saw my dad sitting over against the bar, obviously still in shock himself. He loved Kendra as if she were his own daughter. Shoot, she’d been the driving force that had brought us back together. I didn’t have a relationship with him growing up, but she’d found him and got us to sit down and talk.
“Pops, hand me my bag. The one with my pistol in it. I’m about to blow somebody’s brains out.” I knew at that point I was probably just mouthing off, but if someone was to actually put a pistol in my hand, there was no telling what I would do.
“Fine,” Kendra retorted as she pulled the belt of her robe tightly around her waist. “I’ll leave tonight and give you some time to calm down. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
With that, she scurried off to the bedroom. But she was out of her mind if she thought we would be doing any talking at all.
Tony left, mumbling something about leaving before he “caught a case.”
My dad must’ve known to give me my space because he retreated to the guest room, I guess to give me time to deal with my grief.
It took Kendra less than five minutes to change. She came out wearing a designer sweat suit, an overnight bag tossed across her shoulder.
She stopped right in front of me. “I’m sorry, baby.” Lowering her eyes, she added, “But, um, look, I need your American Express to get a room.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. So all I said was, “You need to get out of my face.”
With that, she huffed and walked out the door. And for the first time since Tony came interrupting my tranquillity, destroying my perfectly constructed world, I sat down and let it all sink in. This time last year, I was going through the same thing with Vanessa after she used my American Express card to get her mother a breast job. Before that, it was Liza, who was still rolling around in the Mercedes I bought. I leaned my head back against the sofa, asking myself how the hell, once again, I had been gotten by a gold digger. How many times would I let some woman use me like this? I sighed in frustration. Just once I’d like to find a woman who loved me and not my money.
1
Paisley
There it was in black-and-white. My man, ass in the air, humping some ho in the back of my car.
I stared at the seven-inch video screen. The way the moonlight was shining down on the car and the way the lake glistened in the background made the whole scene look like something out of a romantic movie. But as the camera zoomed in on my fiancé all over some red-haired bimbo, I knew there was nothing romantic about what was going on.
Joe Gretzy’s voice was calm, reassuring, like he was giving me the latest sto. . .
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