Czytaj książkę: «Two Grooms and a Wedding»
Two Grooms and a Wedding
Adrianne Byrd
MILLS & BOON
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Prologue
Arlington, VA
“Isabella Elizabeth Kane, what do you mean you’re engaged to two men?”
With her head planted between her legs, Isabella waited for the nausea to pass. It wasn’t going to happen anytime soon—especially not while her mother, Katherine, screeched at her.
“Answer me, young lady!” Her mother stomped her foot. “Do you realize the mess you’ve made?”
In response, Isabella released a long winding groan. Under the circumstances, it was the best she could do. Heck, she didn’t understand how she’d gotten in this mess either. Well, she did, but it was all so unbelievable that she didn’t know where to start.
Crash!
Isabella jumped from the bed, hiked up the hem of her white beaded Badgley Mischka wedding dress and raced to the bedroom window of her parents’ two-story home. Her mother and Isabella’s team of bridesmaids/sorority sisters followed suit.
Outside, rolling around on the lush green lawn before hundreds of friends, family and Capitol Hill’s most powerful elite, Isabella’s two fiancés, Derrick Knight and Randall Jarrett, duked it out as if a world championship title was on the line.
Reverend Williams, bless his heart, jumped in to pull the men apart, but his efforts landed all three in the Lady Justice stone-garden water fountain.
Everyone gasped in horror.
“No. No. No. This can’t be happening,” Isabella fretted, turning away from the window to pace around the room like a mad woman. “Oh, God. What am I going to do?”
No one had an answer to that—especially since no one knew how she had managed to get herself engaged to two men at once.
“Izzy,” Keri Evans, Izzy’s best friend, spoke up. “You’re going to have to do something.”
Talk about an understatement.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
All the women jumped and gasped at the sudden hammering on the bedroom door.
“Isabella, open this door!” her father, Senator Tyler Kane, roared.
Shrinking from the rattling partition, Isabella returned to the bed and tucked her head between her knees again. Meanwhile, her mother rushed to the door.
“Everybody out!” her father barked.
The command was met with the loud rustle of silk as her bridesmaids bolted. Isabella wished she could join them, but she no longer trusted her legs’ stability to carry out an escape attempt.
The Senator, as he was affectionately called, slammed the door behind the women. Waves of heat pulsed from him and, if Isabella wasn’t mistaken, the floor trembled as he stalked toward the bed.
“Well, little lady?”
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she croaked down at the pearl-colored carpet.
“Sorry? I have spent twenty years on Capitol Hill,” he began, his voice laded with anger. “And I’ve never once been embroiled in a single scandal. Now my own daughter has managed to destroy my record in one afternoon. This is an election year for God’s sake!”
“Tyler, calm down,” her mother instructed softly.
“How can I be calm? The media is here.”
Isabella’s head snapped up and for her trouble the room spun. “Oh, Daddy.”
“Don’t ‘oh, Daddy’ me. You need to get out there and fix this.”
Fix it? How on earth could she do that?
A quick knock and Keri rushed back into the room. “They’re on their way up.”
“Who?” her mother asked.
“The fiancés.”
Isabella sprang to her feet, thankful they still worked after all. “Stop them! Don’t let them come up here.”
“Stop them?” Katherine questioned. “Honey, you can’t stay up here and hide all day. You’re going to have to talk to them.”
“No. I—I can’t,” Isabella said, bordering on panic.
“By God! As much money as I have spent on this wedding, you’re getting married today.”
“To which one?” her mother asked.
“Derrick/Randall,” her father and Keri answered in sync and then glanced at one another.
Only her mother thought to ask, “Well, which one do you love?”
“What the hell does love have to do with any of this?” the senator thundered. “She’ll marry who I say to marry!”
“Tyler!” her mother screeched.
“What?”
Keri stepped forward. “Izzy? It’s your decision.”
Before anyone had the chance to refute the statement, the bedroom door banged open and Isabella’s two bloodied and soaking wet grooms spilled inside.
“Randall, get out of my way!”
“Like hell, Derrick!”
Isabella leapt behind Keri, hoping to use her as a human shield while the men continued to scuffle.
Her brave father stepped forward and ended the tussle with the powerful boom of his voice. “Stop it, both of you! If you break one thing in this house, I’ll have you both thrown in jail!”
The angry grooms sprung apart, but their heated glares continued the war.
“Isabella?” her father prompted and all eyes turned toward her.
Randall, her first fiancé, pulled his shoulders back and stood erect. His handsome face stared at her with confidence. “Will you tell this man—” he indicated Derrick, who stood to his right, “—whom it is you wish to marry.”
Isabella’s eyes shifted to her second fiancé who towered over Randall by three inches and possessed shoulders as broad and strong as mountains. “Bella?” His dark eyes implored. “Tell them it’s me you love.”
Tears crested her eyes as she opened her mouth, but her throat clenched closed beneath everyone’s expectant gazes. And then she did the one thing no one expected…she fainted.
Chapter 1
Washington, D.C.
Seven months ago…
“Isabella Kane, will you marry me?”
A series of gasps traveled around the large dining table at Maestro restaurant. Handsome Randall Jarrett smiled his newly acquired veneers at his girlfriend.
Isabella dropped her fork and fluttered a shaky hand across her heart. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. Surely she hadn’t heard her boyfriend of eight weeks correctly.
“We’re perfect for each other,” he added, clutching her hand.
Perfect, she noted. Not “I love you with all of my heart” or “I’m crazy about you and I can’t see myself living without you.” Just a calculated “we’re perfect for each other.”
Isabella stared down at a breathtaking two-carat princess-cut diamond and had a hard time pushing the word “no” through her lips. How could she? Before Randall she had never had a serious boyfriend her entire life—let alone someone as gorgeous as Randall notice she was alive.
“Isabella?” Randall questioned with an awkward chuckle and then glanced at his parents and potential in-laws. “You’re not going to leave me hanging here, are you?”
Isabella smiled; at least she tried anyway, and waited for the right words to come.
And waited.
And waited.
“Sweetheart?” Isabella’s father spoke up and touched his daughter’s elbow. “Are you okay?” he whispered.
“I think she’s in shock,” Randall injected with a nervous titter. “It’s not every day a woman gets a marriage proposal.”
Her parents joined Randall in his awkward laughter, giving Isabella sufficient time to break her silent trance.
“Yes,” she agreed. “It’s all so…unexpected. We’ve only been dating two months.”
“Well,” Randall’s stepmother, Eunice, piped up. “I, for one, thought Randall would never settle down.”
Embarrassment darkened Randall’s face. “Mother.”
“What? It’s true,” Eunice said and smiled. “And frankly, I don’t think he could have made a better choice.”
“Amen,” the other parents chorused and then clinked their champagne glasses together in a quick toast.
So they had all known he was going to propose.
Isabella’s face warmed beneath their open praises, but she couldn’t help but feel Ms. Eunice stretched the truth a bit—well, actually, quite a lot. Fact was, Randall Jarrett with his athletic, six foot three body and creamy, peanut-butter skin could have snagged any woman he wanted off looks alone. His wealth and ambition were bonuses.
What surprised Isabella was that he wanted her— a school-teased ugly duckling who’d survived her adolescence by burying her head in books. Before she knew it, she had sailed through high school without attending a single sporting event or prom. A late bloomer, she couldn’t even fill her paltry “B” cups until she was a freshman in college. But luckily, she finally found a home with Delta Phi Theta sorority, where brains were exalted more than beauty.
Still considered a plain Jane, Isabella couldn’t believe the direction her life shifted.
Randall, still on bended knee, held up his free hand. “We can’t celebrate just yet. I’m still waiting for an answer.”
“Well, of course she’ll marry you,” Katherine assured in her honeyed southern voice. “Isabella knows you two are a perfect match.”
Everyone murmured in agreement and glasses clinked all around. Again, Isabella noticed no one said anything about love.
“If it’s all the same,” Randall said. “I’d like to hear her answer.” His dark, almost black eyes bored into Isabella.
The table fell silent as Isabella swallowed the invisible lump in her throat while maintaining a synthetic smile. The war between love and common sense raged in both Isabella’s heart and mind, and on this night, this very important night, there was no clear winner.
After one last nervous glance around the table, Isabella took a deep breath and rode to Randall’s rescue. “Yes. Of course, I’ll marry you.”
Both sets of parents erupted in cheer, while Randall plucked a diamond ring from its velvet box and slid it down her slim finger. Honestly, it was the prettiest shackle she’d ever seen.
The senator leaned over and wrapped an arm around her waist and planted a kiss against her left cheek.
“Baby girl, you’ve made me so proud.” He gave her a hearty shake and rewarded her with another kiss.
For the first time that night, Isabella’s smile was genuine. She lived to make her parents proud, and tonight they looked just as proud as when she graduated class valedictorian from high school and summa cum laude in both college and law school.
All her life Isabella had done what was expected of her and being the only daughter of a prominent senior senator, great things were indeed expected. After obtaining her law degree from Yale, she interned at the White House. There she met Randall, a straight-laced, ambitious attorney who’d swooped into her life with the speed of a locomotive and then disappeared just as quickly. Three years later, he popped up again while she hammered into tax law with Smith, Bryant and Smith, LLC.
Sure, she was dazzled by his attention. The man was exceedingly handsome and came from a powerful and wealthy family, qualities her parents approved.
However, after a few dates, when the newness of Randall wore off, Isabella realized there wasn’t much there. No sparks, no romance…no nothing. In fact, she suspected Randall was trying to construct an ideal power couple instead of searching for a true soul mate.
She suspected her father was doing the same.
Many times, she wondered what Randall saw in her. She wasn’t ugly, but she certainly wasn’t beautiful either. She’d seen pictures of Randall’s ex-girlfriends. They all looked as though they should’ve had long careers in Hollywood or on the runways of Milan.
Isabella had often thought that the only pretty thing about her was her name.
Her mood flip-flopped for the rest of the night and passed by in a blur. There were smiles, laughter and champagne—lots of champagne. Not until her buzz kicked did Isabella relax. It also afforded her the opportunity to detach and watch the swirling excitement as if everyone was talking about someone else’s life.
Not her own.
Randall caught her in the act and leaned over to ask, “Honey, are you feeling all right?”
The mindless chatter stopped and everyone refocused their attention on her.
“Of course, sweetheart,” she assured. “I’m deliriously happy.”
Smiling, Randall squeezed her hand while his dark eyes sparkled. “You can’t be any happier than I am.”
He was certainly right about that. But who knows? Maybe she would grow to love him.
And in Atlanta…
“Derrick, will you marry me?” Meghan Campbell stared up at her boyfriend with tear-glossed eyes. In her hands a black velvet box held a platinum band nestled in its center. “I know this comes as a surprise,” she laughed. “But…I’m hoping you know in your heart of hearts, as well as I do that we belong together.”
Derrick closed his eyes and expelled a long breath. After a nice evening out with his Kappa Psi Kappa Fraternity Alumni, he had not expected to come home to this. In hindsight, maybe he should have.
“You don’t have to answer right now,” Meghan rushed to say. “Just…think about it. I mean, we’re happy, right? We have so many things in common. So why not get married?”
“Meghan—”
“Derrick, I know you’re scared to settle down,” she continued. “But you don’t have to be. We don’t have to get married right away. If you want we can have a long engagement. You know, so you’ll have time to get used to the idea. We can even wait a few years to have children.”
Setting his new Distinguished Service Award on top of the coffee table, Derrick fingered his tie loose and then stood from the leather sofa in order to put distance between them. “Meghan—”
“Derrick, please. I—”
“Meghan, stop. Please.” He drew a deep breath and forced himself to stare into her sad brown eyes. “I can’t marry you,” he said as gently as he could. “I love you, but I’m not in love with you.”
Snapping the velvet box closed, Meghan choked on a sob, while her entire body imploded before his eyes.
Derrick returned to her side, kneeling on the living room’s plush carpet and pulling her trembling body into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Meg. I never meant to give you hope. I’ve always been upfront with you.”
Meghan tilted her head, her eyes swimming in tears. “Maybe you could grow to love me?”
Sullen, he shook his head. “I’m sorry.” He halfway expected more tears, prepared himself even. What he received instead was a burst of anger.
“You’re sorry? Sorry?” With one strong shove, Meghan sent Derrick reeling backwards onto the floor. “Is that all you have to say after three years—you’re sorry? Screw you!”
“Meg—”
“Don’t! You lied,” she screeched, jumping to her feet.
“I never—”
“Not with your words but with your actions. You’ve always made me feel special.”
“You are special to me.”
“You showered me with gifts, offered me security. You’ve done everything to give me hope that I would be Mrs. Derrick Knight one day. My father is a Baptist minister. I’m supposed to get married.”
Derrick wished with all his might that he could love her the way she wanted to be loved, but he couldn’t make his heart do it. He couldn’t lie to her or to himself.
Wailing, Meghan kicked over the coffee table, and even sideswiped a lamp on an end table as she stormed across the living room. “I wasted three years waiting for you!”
“I don’t consider them a waste,” he offered as he climbed to his feet, only to dodge a flying vase aimed at his head.
“I just bet you don’t! I’ve done everything a good girlfriend should do. I’ve been faithful—”
“I never asked you to do that,” he said. “We agreed that this was an open relationship.”
Meghan’s eyes widened. “You’ve been sleeping with other women?”
“We agreed—”
“Asshole!”
Another vase soared through the air. When it crashed inches from his head, a few shattered pieces ricocheted into his eyes. “Ow! Meghan you’re being unreasonable.”
“You’re damn right I am.” She snatched her purse and coat from the foyer’s closet and then turned to give him a final glare. “I never want to see you again. I hate you!”
Derrick watched as she snatched open the front door and flinched when she slammed it behind her. It rattled in her wake. “Well that went well,” he mumbled under his breath.
He looked around the high-rise apartment and realized he should be grateful she didn’t cause more damage. When he broke up with Mya, he had to hire a decorator to repair the place.
Sighing, he walked to the center of the room and picked up his award. A corner of the plaque had broken off, but it was nothing he couldn’t fix. After another glance around, he promised himself he would clean the mess up in the morning before his flight to Washington. Right now, he just wanted to climb into bed and put this whole fiasco behind him.
In his bedroom, Derrick peeled out of his clothes, showered, and then slid between the bed’s satin sheets. After two hours, he was far from dreamland. All he could see was Meghan’s angry tears.
And Mya’s.
And Genie’s.
And Lana’s.
Exasperated, he flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. They had all loved him. They had all expected a wedding ring. But he wasn’t in love with any of them.
“Maybe it’s time to face the truth,” he said into the darkness. “Love just isn’t in the cards for me.”
Chapter 2
Isabella didn’t float home on a cloud and she doubted she would dream of any happily-ever-after with her newly minted fiancé. Instead, Isabella wondered about the mess she got herself into.
“What do you mean, he proposed? You were supposed to break up with him,” Keri thundered into the phone.
“I know. I know. But what was I supposed to do? He had invited our parents to dinner. Everyone was sitting there staring at me.”
“You were supposed to say no.”
Isabella sighed, and slumped onto the bed. She heard a loud rip, jumped up and ran to the mirror to see a long tear in the back of her dress. “Just great!”
“What happened?”
“Uhm. How soon do you need your green dress back?”
“Izzy, you said you’d be careful!”
“I know. I know.” She sighed. Why was she always such a klutz? “It’s just a small rip,” she lied. “I can fix it.” Balancing the phone between her shoulder and chin, Isabella struggled to reach the back zipper. When it jammed halfway down, she opted to pull the silk dress over her head, which caused her to lose her precious balance, drop the phone and crush her toes.
“Ow. Ow, ow.” She hopped around the room blind on her good foot. Once the throbbing eased, she shouted down to the floor, “Just a sec, Keri.” Isabella wiggled and pulled and after a few long seconds managed to work her way out of the dress. “I’m back.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I dropped the phone.” She sat on the edge of the bed and reached to take off her shoes when one heel came off in her hand. “Uhm, about your shoes…”
“Izzy!”
“I’m sorry. I just…I’m just sorry.”
“Forget the shoes. What are you going to do about Randall?”
Isabella checked behind her before easing back onto the bed.
“Isabella, are you there? Hello.”
“I’m still here,” she mumbled.
“So what are you going to do? I mean, you’re not going to go through with it, are you? You’re not in love with Randall.”
“I could learn to love him.”
“What?” Keri shrieked. “Please say you’re joking.”
Isabella sighed. Was she joking? Really, what was wrong with falling in love after marriage? Does true love really exist? Hell, she didn’t know anymore.
“Izzy?”
“I don’t know, Keri. Randall is a good catch and it’s not like there’s a line of men banging down my front door. There never has been.”
“Don’t say it like that. What about that guy you met at the library?”
“You mean, Arthur? That was years ago. We went out one time and all he talked about was reaching some ridiculous level in some video game. Besides he had too many no’s.”
“He had too many what?”
“No’s. No job, no car, no money and most importantly no personality. Consequently, he got married last year.”
“You’re joking.”
“I wish I was. I was hard up enough a few months ago and called him again.” Isabella grabbed a toss pillow, covered her head and proceeded to scream.
“Izzy? Izzy?” Keri shouted.
When her brief moment of anxiety and frustration passed, Isabella removed the pillow from her head and placed the phone back against her ear. “It’s all right. I’m back.”
“Okay. So Arthur is off the list. No big deal.”
“No big deal? What does it say about the world when he can get hitched and I, an intelligent woman with a damn good job…and somewhat decent looking can only get asked out once every three years?”
“Izzy, stop putting yourself down. You’re a pretty girl. Any man would be lucky to have you.”
How come she only heard those words from her parents and friends? Acidic tears burned the backs of Isabella’s eyes. The truth was the truth. She wasn’t beautiful and she should count herself lucky Randall Jarrett ever gave her the time of day. “Randall would make a good husband.”
“So you’re just going to settle?”
“I didn’t say I was settling.”
“That is exactly what you’re saying. You’re letting Randall and your parents run your life.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Oh, please. Your parents chose your college, law school, your condo, half of your friends and now they have thrown you into Randall’s arms.”
Isabella groaned at having the truth tossed back at her. The great thing about Keri was her wonderful way of telling it like it is. Sometimes she was a little too blunt, but love it or hate it, everyone always knew where they stood with Keri.
Sometimes Isabella wished she was more like her best friend. For one thing, Keri was gorgeous. Whenever she walked into a room, everyone noticed. Then there was Keri’s no-nonsense attitude. She had no time for fools, or “dawgs” looking for a quick score.
“Take control of your life, Izzy,” Keri said. “Do something. Stand up for yourself. This is your chance before they marry you off and pump you full of kids. Call Randall tonight and tell him you can’t marry him.”
“But—”
“No buts. Do it now. Tonight!”
Isabella fell silent while a knot looped and tightened in her chest. “Time to get a backbone,” she mumbled.
“That’s my girl,” Keri encouraged. “Call him and then call me back,” she instructed.
Isabella nodded and then rolled onto her back. “But what if he’s not there?”
“Izzy!”
“Okay. Okay. I’m calling right now.”
“Good. You’re doing the right thing.”
Then why did it feel like she’d swallowed a fifty-pound lead rock? Isabella disconnected the call, and stared at the phone. Just call him, she told herself. Her hands itched and her fingers tingled, but still she couldn’t make the call.
Five minutes went by.
Ten minutes.
Twenty minutes later, Isabella reached for the phone, but after punching in one number, she hung up.
“I’ll call him tomorrow.”
Tomorrow she’d know what to say.
Derrick strolled through the doors of Herman’s Barbershop flashing a wide smile and bobbing his head in greeting to the Saturday morning regulars. For nearly twenty-five years Derrick had been coming to the small shop.
A few men tossed a “Yo, Derrick,” his way and he volleyed a “Whassup?” back at them.
Herman Keillor, a tall, robust man, who was in his early seventies, had owned the shop through some hellish times. Most customers came for his wonderful stories. Not only had Herman given Derrick his first haircut when he was just six, but the old man had often bragged about giving Derrick’s father his first one as well.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming this morning,” Herman boomed from across the room.
“I always keep my appointments,” Derrick said, shuffling across the room, dodging stretched out legs and chunks of shaved hair lying across the floor. “I do have a flight in a few hours, so we’re going to have to make this quick.”
“Bobby!” Herman shouted. “Get out here and sweep some of this hair up.”
A second later, Bobby, Herman’s seventeen-year-old great grandson rushed from the back of the shop with a broom and quickly got to work.
Men in the neighborhood filtered in and out daily, but Saturday remained the shop’s busiest day. Six barbers, ranging from old school to new school donned burgundy barber jackets with Herman’s name scrawled on the back. Despite residing in a red brick building that had clearly seen better days, Herman’s Barbershop looked brand smacking new on the inside.
“Here. Have a seat,” Herman instructed and reached for a black cape.
Derrick took his seat in the offered leather chair and made himself comfortable.
Herman’s was the place to be to discuss women, politics and sports. It was a place where men were free to be themselves, get and give advice or just plain bond with one another.
On the suspended television set, some NASCAR race was well on its way, but none of the brothas were paying it any attention.
“Why do you have this stuff on?” Derrick asked.
“Cable is acting up. It’s either this or Sponge-Bob,” Herman cackled.
“Then never mind.” Derrick laughed.
The bell above the shop’s door jingled and Derrick looked up to see his buddy Stanley Patterson race inside.
The regulars greeted the lanky redhead with affectionate nicknames ranging from “Breadstick” to “Red” and even “Whitey.” A couple of the new clients glanced at Stanley as if they were wondering if he was lost.
“Hey, you beat me here,” Stanley said, panting. “I figured you and Meghan would still be celebrating your getting that award.”
That comment caught a few ears and Derrick groaned. “Meghan and I decided to move on.”
“What?” Stanley thundered. “Why? I thought you two had something going.”
“It just didn’t work out,” he said and hoped that would be the end of it.
It wasn’t.
“Did she find out about the others?” Stanley asked.
“My man Derrick be laying the pipe down for real,” Bobby chuckled with a note of admiration.
“Humph,” Herman grunted his disapproval.
“We had an open relationship,” Derrick stressed. Why was everyone forgetting about that major detail?
“Hey, you can pass her my way.” J.T., the neighborhood’s merchandise peddler, said while showing off a tray of fake Rolexes to potential customers. “I saw you two at Phipps Plaza some time back. You sure know how to pick them. Lawd knows you do.”
“You got that right,” Stanley cut in before Derrick had a chance to answer. “Thick and curvy with a booty out of this world.”
“Stan,” Derrick hissed, trying to shut him up.
“What, man?” His buddy laughed. “Everyone in here knows how you roll. You hook up with the finest women in the A-T-L. You’re the man.”
Bobby stopped sweeping to ask, “How do you do it? Do you have a line or something?”
Just like that Derrick was the center of attention. Bobby looked like he was ready to bust out a pen and paper to take notes.
“Nah. It’s nothing like that,” Derrick answered modestly.
Disappointment crept slowly across Bobby’s face and Derrick had the distinct impression the young man was suffering from a mild case of girl troubles. It wasn’t hard to guess why. Acne blanketed the boy’s face and his thick black-rimmed glasses looked as though they were a borrowed pair from his great grandfather.
“It’s not important the number of women you get,” Herman said. Undoubtedly, he’d noticed Bobby’s sullen expression, too. “It’s finding that one special woman. This knucklehead—” he thumbed Derrick on the back of his head with a plastic comb “—is gonna realize that one of these days.”
Derrick smiled and shook his head.
“Be still,” Herman instructed.
Herman’s declaration didn’t seem to cheer Bobby any—in fact, it only won a few chuckles around the shop.
“I’m serious,” Herman insisted gruffly. “You young folks.” He tsked under his breath. “You just don’t know what’s important anymore.”
“And what’s that, old man?” someone questioned near the front door.
“Family,” Herman said.
Derrick had mouthed the same answer and shook his head again. The guy by the door must have been new to the shop. The regulars knew Herman never missed an opportunity to climb on his soap box about how young men today where turning their backs on the traditional black family.
“It breaks my heart seeing all these beautiful sisters roaming around here raising these babies by themselves. It’s a damn shame,” Herman said.
“Hey, I don’t have any baby mommas,” Derrick said, feeling the need, once again, to defend himself. “And since I’m not ready to settle down, I make sure I practice safe sex.”
“Yeah. Me too,” Stanley added.
“Safe sex or no sex?” J.T. asked.
Another round of snickering ensued. Stanley’s normally pale face bloomed a bright red. Still, it was amazing no one called his Irish friend out or ragged him about trying to date across the color lines. Derrick suspected it was because Stanley was not only a friend of his but was also a member of the Kappa Psi Kappa fraternity. The only white boy to do so.
Being a Kappa man gave Stanley mad respect in the neighborhood since the fraternity did a lot for the community.
“Shoot,” J.T. chuckled. “It just don’t feel the same with a condom.”
“It’s gonna feel worse when you catch something you can’t get rid of,” Herman huffed, and then added under his breath, “Lawd. Lawd. Please help these knuckleheads running around here.” He clicked on his razor and started grooming Derrick’s edges.
Darmowy fragment się skończył.
