Chapter 7 #2
“My spirit of discernment told me that you were the one for my boy. You’ve kept him on his toes.
There had been so many times when I’ve watched him make sure that you were taken care of.
He’d get flowers sent to your job or try to surprise you with gifts or trips.
It warms my heart seeing him strive to be a good husband because he never had an example.
Rio chose to defy the odds against him. Although I don’t like how he makes his living, I am content with you being by his side because I know you have his best interest at heart. ”
Suddenly, Cali’s eyes watered before her head hung down.
How could she stand in this woman’s face and allow her to praise her when she had been the worst wife to Rio?
She’d participated in an ongoing affair for years and had plans to leave him.
He would hate her if he ever found out how badly she had been playing him.
The lies had been endless, the deceit was uncharted, and the gall was astounding.
Cali was worse than Rio’s number one enemy because she had been betraying him for years.
“I don’t deserve that,” she cried. “Please don’t praise me.”
Ruthia shuffled over to Cali, who was now hunched over, emptying her regret through her eyes.
“Oh, honey, it’s okay.” She wrapped her thick arms around Cali, giving her a hug that only a mother could.
“I know all of this is so much. Rio may not be in the best condition but he’s going to pull through and you’re going to be by his side.
I respect you a great deal, Cali. Just keep being here for Rio. He really needs all of us.”
Ruthia didn’t get it, and Cali couldn’t convey to her how much of a fraud she truly was. However, she would take her advice and make sure she didn’t leave his side. She could at least be a present wife during his misery since she had been a shitty one when he was conscious.
“Thank you,” she muttered, gently backpedaling out of Ruthia’s embrace. “I’m going to step out for a second.”
Cali didn’t wait for a reply as she headed for the door.
Stepping into the hallway, she inhaled deeply before ambling toward the exit.
When she stepped outside, tears crowded her eyes.
This was complete torture. A knife to the gut would’ve been more bearable than what she was experiencing.
She had no one to run to. No one to tell her that her guilt would eventually soothe.
Cali was all alone in this boat of regret, and she was tempted to jump off.
The vibration from her phone jolted her. When she saw Irish calling, she quickly answered.
“Irish, I’m sick,” she confessed.
“I know, hun. Tell me what you're feeling.”
Cali paced in a circle, flailing her arm in frustration.
“I feel like shit and on top of that, Braye keeps calling me. Rio’s mother is telling me how I’m this good wife when I’m not shit, internally.
Oh, and Rio has made no progress. I feel like he’s dead and we’re being selfish by keeping him on the machine. ”
Cali had to inhale a breath after that. It was all so much to bear.
“Listen, I know you may feel guilty but you gotta deal with that later. Rio needs you to be his rock and pray for him. Just focus on him and his recovery because he’s going to pull through. Have you heard from the police?”
“Not since yesterday. They had a few witness statements, and they think he ran a red light. They believe that’s what caused him to crash into a pole.”
Every time Cali’s imagination painted the picture of Rio’s accident, her stomach recoiled. He must've been scared, being thrown from the car and landing on a concrete island.
“My God.” Irish gasped. “That is terrible and despite that, he’s still going to pull through. You know Rio’s extra tough ass ain't leaving you behind.”
That made Cali chuckle. “I hope so.”
“Don't hope. Pray. I’m going to stop by after I leave the salon with Ivory. Is there anything you need?”
“No, not at the moment.”
“Okay, well, if that changes, let me know.”
“Alright, thank you, friend.”
“You know I got you.”
“Bye.”
When the call finished, Cali took a seat on a nearby bench. Finally, she did what everyone had been telling her to do and that was pray for her husband.
Glamour Avenue was one of the few salons in St. Parklynn that provided full service.
It was a one-stop shop for not only hair and nails, but customers could come get full-body waxes, microneedling for brows and facials, as well as lash extensions.
Irish had been a client for years along with Ivory.
They’d go to the shop and be there for hours, getting pampered and primed from some of the best stylists in the city.
“Oh, I gotta tell y’all how I went on a date last week and my baby daddy crashed that shit.” One of the stylists named Clarice laughed.
Rozalin rolled her eyes. “You just keep putting niggas in drama, huh?”
“What?” she feigned innocence. “I didn’t know that bastard was going to follow us to The Fiftieth One.”
Irish snorted as Rozalin detangled her hair. “Lies, you know that man has been making it his mission to ruin your life ever since y’all broke up. You need to get a restraining order on him.”
“She ain't gon’ do that,” Shay, the other stylist, added. “I’ve been knowing this girl for years and trust me, she loves the drama.”
“I do not!” Clarice rebutted.
Ivory twisted her lips with a plastic cap on her head. “Girl, yes you do. You should’ve been mortified that he followed y’all to the restaurant. Instead, you're all giddy. I hate to tell you this, but you are the drama.”
“That part,” Irish added.
Clarice’s lips were parted in shock as her gaze skated at all the faces in the salon.
“Wow, I know y’all not trying to call me out.
Shay, you make it your business to antagonize your baby daddy.
Ivory, I heard you be in Miami giving up that lil’ sour pus between your legs.
Rozalin, you ain't had a man since TLC had a hit and you, Irish”—her eyes narrowed at her—“you may have a perfect marriage right now but that shit ain't gon’ always be sunshine and clouds. You better watch it, bitch.”
Irish cackled at her warning as Clarice smirked. “How you gon’ get mad ‘cause we’re calling your messy ass out?”
“Exactly,” Shay instigated. “And don't bring up shit with my ex. That nigga deserves to be dragged for all that he put me through.”
Rozalin pursed her lips. “I mean, he did hurt you, but it’s been years and your ass still ain't over him.”
“Yes, the fuck I am,” Shay declared. “I don't like shit about that nigga.”
“I highly doubt that.” Clarice pursed her lips. “You go out of your way to annoy him.”
“Oop, don't tell me Shay is a bitter baby mama,” Ivory chided.
Shay cut her eyes at her. “Ain't shit bitter about me. Like I said, I don't fuck with that man at all, and I never will.”
“Aw, get over it.” Rozalin waved her hand. “That man has moved on, and you need to as well.”
Shay smacked her lips, rolling her eyes so hard that Irish felt they would pop out of her head.
“I got a man so there’s that.”
Irish loved the banter between the women. They often called out their faults and threw shade, but it was all in good fun.
“Irish, when you gon’ tell people that’s a box dye in your head?” Clarice joked.
“When your mama stop acting like she’s a size ten when she knows she’s a twenty-four. I’m tired of seeing her squeezing in those Simply Fashion clothes.”
“Oop.” Ivory laughed. “Yo’ mama do keep some too little blouses on. I know when she washes them, they shrink like a bitch.”
“Tell your mother that 1993 goes up to size twenty-eight,” Irish added, referring to her clothing line.
The room erupted into laughter as Clarice gave them both the evil eye.
“This why I can’t stand when these heffas come in the shop. They always trying to tag team and shit.”
Irish laughed. “No, you always trying to shade my hair color when you know it’s natural.”
Clarice pursed her lips. “Chile, that has yet to be determined.”
Irish had been teased so badly as a child for her natural ginger hair. She’d been called so many names that insults at her adult age didn’t faze her. In fact, she rarely got insults. It was more so compliments on how her hair was beautiful and paired well with her toasted brown skin.
“I heard about Rio, girl,” Rozalin stated quietly to her. “Please tell Cali that I’m praying for him. I can’t believe he got into an accident.”
“I know. I’m actually going to stop by the hospital when I leave here. Cali is going through it.”
“Shit, I would be, too. The streets are saying he’s on life support.”
Irish nodded. “Unfortunately, he is.”
Rozalin sighed. “Girl, I remember when my brother was on life support, and the doctors told us to take him off. We didn’t listen and decided to keep praying. Ten days later, my brother was up talking to us. So, tell Cali to keep the faith.”
“I told her the same thing. I think they should at least give him a fighting chance, ya know.”
“Yeah, I do. Besides, Rio’s fine ass needs to pull through. He’s eye candy when I go see my mama in Havenwood. Don't tell Cali, though.”
Irish chuckled, knowing Rio was probably a lot of women’s eye candy.
“But I will say, he didn’t play about Cali. Married men act the most single but not him. He was always flaunting that ring around and denying hoes access to him. Cali definitely got her a good one ‘cause most niggas would take the bait.”
That saddened Irish, knowing Cali had been giving her all to another man.
Rio was proud to be her husband. He wore his title with pride, shooing away any girl that wasn’t Cali.
It made Irish proud but envious at the same time.
She too had a guy that didn’t play about her, but he wasn’t her man.
She yearned for the day when her significant other flaunted her in the face of other women.
“Yeah, I know, he’s a good guy. That’s why I’m praying for him to pull through.”
“How is Jovanis taking it?”