For Better or For Worse: Wounded Hearts Volume 1

For Better or For Worse

By D.T. Williams

Published by D.T. Williams @

Copyright 2015 D.T. Williams

Prologue

1995

Lucy

 Damn, I growled as I slowly pulled my Mercedes to the side of the road. I could tell by the dramatic shift and bursting sound of one of my tires that whatever just occurred was not going to be a pretty sight. Oh, God, why me? I sighed, resting my head on the steering wheel. Once again I had found myself in a sticky situation.

It was after 10 p.m., and I was eating up the highway, driving home from Lake City mall while bobbing my head to This is How We Do It by Montel Jordan. The job was a deadend, and I was even pissed at having to work it in the first place. Although I’d decided to take a break before going to college, I had no intentions of working like a slave while doing so. I wanted to travel and see the world, find myself and what not. I didn’t see a problem with that. Daddy had always paid for everything since I was a little girl. I had the best of it all. French tip nails were always done, hair was always tight and designer clothes to die for.  I just had money to blow. I remember having the first Louie bag that any of the heffas at my high school had ever laid eyes on. They were jealous then and are still jealous ‘til this day. None of them had seen me working my new job, which was a good thing.

  You need to earn your own money, my dad said.

  C’mon, Daddy, really? I whined, Why do I even need to work?

  My young mind could not grasp that I needed to learn how to stand on my own two feet.  I was tripping that he wasn’t running down the ends anymore. He was really adamant about the whole job issue. The more I complained, the more he shook his head. I guess I had turned out to be the spending machine he created.

  He was sitting in his favorite chair reclined backwards. My father was a tall lean man and was still very handsome. He’d had some worry over the years, and that showed around his eyes. He watched me as I animatedly tried to explain my point.  His face was stoic and knowing. He was up on game.

  "Baby girl, you need to learn the value of a dollar. Ain’t nothing wrong with a woman that has her own. I can’t support you all of my life."

  I plopped down, knees up to my chest on the sofa. I admired my toes and twisted the top off the powder blue OPI bottle. I stroked my toes as I tried to think of a way to get him to understand my point.

  Daddy, you’ve been taking care of me for a long time. Why stop now?

  Lucy, you can find a really nice job at the mall. There is nothing wrong with something like that. It’s an honest living.

  So that’s it then? I looked up at him, You cuttin’ me off? I was really starting to get pissed.

  Don’t think of it that way. He yawned and closed his eyes as if he was at total peace, but knowing Daddy there was a storm brewing. I still had to make my point.

  Daddy-

  Enough! You have until the end of the month or you will be working with me. End of discussion. He sat up from his reclined position and looked pointedly at me.

  I stiffened. There was no way in hell I was working with him. That’s all I needed to hear, and besides, he was about to flip out. I knew my limit.

  Every newspaper that came to the house I scoured for job listings; I was determined. I would open up my own car wash washing cars my damn self before I stepped foot in Dobson Construction as an employee.

  Dobson Construction was my father’s pride and joy. He had worked hard to build and establish his business, and it was doing very well. It was quite lucrative. He provided jobs for minorities that were unable to find work anywhere else.  While he made a lot of money, he was helping the community too, but they did hard work. Lucy was not about to do that kind of work. All of that sweating and lifting…it was not feminine at all. No, Lucy would find her something else. 

  Sears hired me on the spot. I was psyched about it until I actually had to work. I thought that being around all of the latest fashions, bags, and shoes would be a breeze for me, but I was wrong. I worked the cash register, folded and refolded clothes, and stocked items and tended to disgruntled customers. Maybe Dobson’s would’ve been easier.

  I had a completely different idea about money. I thought I would at least be able to afford my own place, but sales clerks didn’t make that much. What the job did do was keep Daddy off my back. That was incentive enough for me to keep it.

  My day had not been any more annoying than usual. It had gone smoothly for the most part until on my way home, I’d decided to take a shortcut. I took a shortcut and ended up on Montana Street. I don’t know why I was surprised when I ran over some busted glass and got a flat. I sat in my Mercedes for a moment and then sighed as I got out. I didn’t know anything about cars. I threw my head back and looked up into the night sky and then I looked at my surroundings. Rundown homes lined both sides of the street while chicken heads and dope boys decorated the corners. I scrunched up my face as I took everything in. I was in a hell of a lot of trouble.

  Some of the guys were scoping me out and I didn’t know if they were eyeballing me or my ruby red Mercedes SL 500. It was probably the latter. It was a little older, but it was very nice. Daddy bought it for my sixteenth birthday. I did not want to get carjacked. I started toward the front of my car, being careful not to mess up my new chic clogs I’d purchased with my employee discount. I peered down at the tire. There wasn’t a thing I could do. I allowed one strap of my bag to fall from my shoulder. I was so glad that I had begged for a cell phone. It looked like our cordless house phone, but I could use it anywhere. I pulled it out by its long antenna and began to dial home.

That’s when I noticed a tall dark figure making his way toward me. My heart leaped and I immediately disconnected the call and reached into my bag once more; this time I had hold of my pepper spray. If some hoodlum planned to attack me he would be sorry. The closer he got, the calmer I became. Something about him told me that he meant me no harm. He was…striking. He was rugged yet sexy. Our eyes locked and something very strange happened to me for the first time in my young life. I believe I swooned a little.

  Need a hand, little lady? His voice was smooth and deep. It actually made me tremble. He had my undivided attention. I struggled with being obvious, but it was too late for that as my eyes traveled up and down his fit frame. What was wrong with me? Dark eyes, slender perfectly bridged nose, full kissable lips…made me wonder about the feel of them against mine. It was his deep voice that pulled me from my trance.

Excuse me, Miss? I assume he’d repeated himself by the look on his face.

 Stuttering, I responded, Uh, yes…I guess I do.

He chuckled and extended his large hand. Grant Smith.

I reached for his hand and it swallowed mine. Natalia. Everyone calls me Lucy though. He caught me staring. Again.

He strolled to the rear of my car and knocked on the trunk. You got a spare in here?

Yes. I could’ve used the button on my keys to pop the trunk, but I didn’t. Could've stayed right where I was, but I didn't. Stepping in front of him, I opened the trunk and the most erotic sensation overcame me knowing that he was standing right behind me. It didn’t help that I knew I looked pretty good in my new silk slip dress that showed off my curves; I had plenty of those. I matured very quickly, something that Daddy hated but I loved.

  Everything you need should be in here. I motioned toward my opened trunk.

  Grant placed one hand on the raised trunk and leaned over my shoulder to peer inside. He was close. Too close. There was electricity popping in the air as he pretended to be interested in the spare tire. His Cool Water scent swirled around me, intoxicating me. It was crazy.

  His face was so close when he leaned over my shoulder and said, Everything I need? Yes, but I also need a jack too.

  I shivered. Was this really happening? He must've sensed what I was thinking and he backed up. I could breathe again.

  A ja-jack? I was stuttering again, So it's not one in there?

  I can run down to the shop and get one. He thumbed over his shoulder. 

The shop? Well, I guess that’s why he has Dickey’s on.

  I turned to face him. I realized that he was committed to going through a little bit of trouble for me, but I also thought of being left alone on the wrong side of town. At night.

  Oh no. Don't go. That came out wrong. I mean, I just need to get home. Stay here while I make a call. I grabbed my phone again, as he watched curiously.

  Grant shook his head. No need. The shop is just up the street. I saw you when you pulled over. It won’t take long. I promise.

  He must’ve seen the panic that stretched across my face because he softly reassured me, Baby, no one is going to lay a finger on you or your car. Not as long as they know you’re dealing with me.

  Of course, I wanted to argue with him, but his confidence was enough to settle me. I did notice how the people in the area seemed to behave differently when they saw Grant approach me. As he walked away from me, there were points and daps given by those that rode the corners. He was respected. As I relaxed, I thought of what he said. Not as long as they know you’re dealing with me.  I chuckled. Is that what I was doing, dealing with Grant? In all of twenty minutes?

  I watched him, muscles flexing, as he maneuvered. He took his time and that was damn sexy. He finished putting his final touches on the wheel by tightening those things on the outside.

Alright, little lady, you’re good to go. He stood and wiped the grime on his white tee.

  I nodded and went into my purse to compensate him. I didn’t feel right not giving him something for his trouble. Here’s fifty, unless you need more. I have it. I-

  No need. I’m definitely good, but what I could use is your number. A grin spread across his handsome face and it was almost impossible to resist. Almost impossible.

I paused and his dark orbs penetrated me. I was getting that strange feeling that I’d had when I first saw him. It wasn’t a bad feeling. It was just something I didn’t really recognize. As I procrastinated, the one thing, or person, that ran through my mind was my daddy. Grant was not the type of guy that he would want me talking to. While it was true I was daddy’s little girl and I always wanted to please him, there was something about Grant that made me feel…rebellious. Sexy. Womanly.  At nineteen, I understood that I was young and needed to find myself, but I also needed to stretch my wings and come from under my daddy. There was something about Grant Smith that made me feel adventurous and naughty.

  He knew that I was stalling and said, I just want to make sure you get home safely. It’s kinda late for a young woman such as yourself to be out alone. Clearly, he was lying, but he was a cute liar.

  I eyed him curiously and propped my hand on my hip, tilting my head to one side and allowed my spirals to bounce a little. My phone number, hunh? I asked. I don’t know. That’s a pretty exclusive number.

  Grant smiled, shoved his hands into the pockets of his oversized Dickeys, and came toward me. I didn't back up. In fact, I may have inched closer to him; I was asking for trouble.

  What makes you think you’re worthy of my number? It came out breathlessly.

  Unlike most guys, Grant wasn't intimidated by me at all. He accepted my challenge, leaned in close, and said, You seem to me like a very straightforward type of lady. I don’t think you would waste your time.

  No, I don’t like my time to be wasted, I agreed.

  He leaned in even closer and this time I swear his lips brushed against my cheek. I felt the heat of his body and the scent of that hypnotizing cologne. With full confidence, he said, So I doubt you would’ve even asked me the question if you felt I wasn’t worthy. I damn near hit the ground.

  I backed away from him, regrouped, and shakily stated, I can’t give you my number. For the first time all night, he looked unsure of himself. His wide grin slowly faded. But I can take down yours, okay? I quickly quipped.

  The grin was back in full effect. Well, give me that satellite you call a phone so I can type my number in your contacts.

  Hey, at least I have one. Not too many people can say that.

  He was still smiling. Well, I guess you’re right about that. I have a two-way pager, but I’ll give you the number to the shop. I’m always there.

  I hopped in my ruby red baby and drove cautiously away. I looked into my rearview to see that Grant Smith was still watching. Grant Smith, huh? Let’s see what the future holds.

Chapter One

Moving On Up

Lucy

I chuckled to myself, thinking back on the day my husband and I met. It all seemed so long ago. Now, I sat in the living area of my new home filled with unpacked moving boxes and no help…damn. Oh God, this is so much work, I complained. My hands were sore from unpacking over six boxes already and more to come. I’d never seen so many boxes in my life until Grant and I moved into our first house.

During college, Grant and I decided to relocate to the Big Apple. He’d been offered a job at Good and Weldness Corporation and I was hesitant to make such a drastic move all the way from the only home I had ever known, but I believed in my heart that my man was worth it and thank God, he did not disappoint. I was serious about Grant, but I was also serious about college. I didn't want to just run off from home with the love of my life and forget that I still had to make my daddy proud. Our new home in the Riverdale section of the Bronx boasted tile floors, cedar furniture, and the best periwinkle bathroom I’d ever laid eyes on. It was a pretty penny, but since Grant wanted to remain a happily married man, he coughed it up literally.

You almost done in there, woman? his loud voice roared from outside.                     

What the hell do you think? I mumbled, looking at all the remaining boxes we had to unpack. Grant brought in another from the moving van and sat it in the kitchen. He was sweating profusely and his white t-shirt was soaked, showing off the cuts in his rock hard body. I snuck in a devilish smile, finding him utterly delicious. We had been married for four months now after years of dating. From the first time I laid eyes on that 6’4" frame and smooth deep brown cocoa skin, I’ve been hypnotized. Clearly, the spell hasn’t broken yet and I doubt it ever will. I went back to unpacking all of our newly purchased china we received as a wedding gift when I felt those familiar hands of his grasp my shoulders.

Baby, what you are doing in here, huh? Grant leaned over me and kissed my neck.

  I’m in a panic. There is so much to do Grant and we’re not even halfway done, I sighed.

He shook his head and grinned. Oh, hush that fuss; it’s not like we are going nowhere anytime soon… as much as I paid for this place, we may die in here.

I looked around at all the work that still needed to be done and wanted to raise the white flag and surrender. "From how many boxes still unpacked in this house, we may not be going anywhere ever." Grant threw his hands up in defeat.  

Whatever you say, princess. I rolled my eyes at his snarky comment; Princess was what he referred to me as whenever he thought I was acting spoiled…forget him. I knew damn well he wasn’t going to help me unpack shit but was sure as hell going to sit on the couch and yell at the TV when the game came on. Grant took off his shirt and wiped the sweat off his face. I couldn’t help but stare at him, admiring that perfect chiseled body; he was a work of art, like my very own Michaelangelo’s David. Damn, I couldn’t have gotten a finer man if I prayed for one, I thought to myself. Getting sidetracked from the job at hand, I glanced over to the Tempur-Pedic mattress in the other room and then back at him.

Hmmm…is that the new mattress we just ordered? I asked with a sly grin playing on my lips. He caught my heavy drift and gave me some of that LL Cool J lip action.

Why yes it is, he said, tossing his t-shirt to the side.

I popped up off the floor like two buns in the toaster oven. Well then, I say we forget these boxes and go test that bad boy out. I figured, what the hell? Sex was a good halftime in the game of unpacking boxes. It would curb Grant’s reluctance to helping finish unpacking duties. It