Passion by the Book. Pamela Yaye
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hunched in defeat, Simone stared down absently at her most treasured possession. She twisted her wedding ring around her finger, ran her thumb over the radiant, emerald-cut stone flanked by dozens of baguette diamonds. To the outside world, she and Marcus had all the trappings of success—money in the bank, a fleet of luxury cars, yearly vacations to exotic islands. They weren’t keeping up with the Joneses; they were the Joneses. But ever since Marcus had opened a sixth Samson’s Gym location she hardly saw him. All he cared about was building his brand. He was trying to become the Magic Johnson of the East Coast, and if the staggering sales of his first fitness DVD were any indication of his future, he was well on his way. Simone was proud of him, but she missed how close they used to be, how fun and passionate their relationship once was.
Things had been terse between them for weeks. They were cordial to each other, polite, but the tension in the house was suffocating. For days, he’d been moody and quiet, hardly his fun, jovial self. And since he wouldn’t open up, Simone didn’t know if he was stressed out about the business or as upset as she was about the state of their marriage.
“How did things come to this?” she wondered aloud.
Five years ago, Marcus had swept her off her feet. He’d call several times a day just to hear her voice, spent the entire weekend hanging out at her place and once played hooky from work so they could watch movies in bed. And when she was placed on strict bed rest in the last trimester of her pregnancy, and her mom couldn’t travel up from North Carolina, Marcus took care of her. He brought her breakfast in bed, massaged her swollen feet and made so many late-night runs to Wendy’s the staff knew him by name.
Simone gazed out the window, at the stars twinkling in the night sky, and thought about all the times she and Marcus had made love in the backyard. They used to be so in love, so happy, so completely and utterly devoted to each other. But these days it felt like they were living separate lives. Reviewing their heated exchange in her mind, Simone wondered if she was being too hard on Marcus. He was a good man—ambitious, sincere, affectionate. Or at least he used to be. Before fame and fortune came knocking.
Simone bit the inside of her cheek. She had to do something, had to find a way to make Marcus listen to her. But what? Her gaze fell across the framed pictures on the armoire and zeroed in on the one taken at the resort in the Dominican Republic.
Settling back against the quilted pillows, she allowed the memories of the night he proposed to soothe her troubled mind. It was the most romantic moment of her life. They’d had dinner by candlelight, danced to the tranquil sounds of the ocean waves, then made love under a curtain of twinkling stars. Marcus had been so tender that night, so sweet. He always got mushy during lovemaking and often joked that he could be talked into anything after an orgasm.
A smirk tickled her lips. Of course there’s something I can do! Her conscience jabbed her, told her using seduction to manipulate her husband wasn’t the answer, but Simone silenced her inner critic. All I want is to spend some quality time with my man. Is that so bad? Deciding it wasn’t, she opened the side table and rummaged around. “All I need are some candles, a Sam Cooke CD and that edible massage oil Marcus loves so much!”
In seconds, the bed was covered with the supplies. Confident she could turn the night around, Simone whipped off her robe, shook her hair free from its ponytail and hustled over to the vanity table. She knew just what to do to get Marcus’s attention, and when he was finished having his way, she’d have hers.
* * *
Inside the bathroom, Marcus trailed the electric razor along his jaw. He usually used this time to think about ways to boost membership at the club, but instead of strategizing he considered the accusations Simone had made. Did she really think that he was selfish? That he was putting his business above their family? He couldn’t censor his thoughts, couldn’t stop her words from circling his brain. Her insults tormented him, made it impossible for him to think of anything else. He’d given Simone everything a woman could want. Closets full of designer clothes, a hefty monthly allowance and more diamonds than a jeweler’s wife probably owned.
Marcus stared at his reflection in the mirror, saw how tired and haggard he looked. If Simone wasn’t in one of her moods he would have asked her to draw them a bath. When he held her in his arms all the cares of the world ceased to exist. It had been like that from the very beginning, since day one.
A grin overwhelmed his lips when he thought about the night he had met Simone. He still remembered the exact moment he had spotted her. She was with her girlfriends, dancing on top of a speaker at a hip-hop concert, shaking her booty like it was nobody’s business. Their attraction was instantaneous, intense, like two unstoppable forces colliding. He ditched his friends, she ditched hers and they spent the rest of the night making out in the VIP lounge. Afterward, he invited her back to his place for drinks. They made love twice that night, and Marcus was so enamored with Simone, he stopped hitting the clubs with his boys and started spending all of his free time with her. And when they weren’t together, he was calling and texting her. Marcus unplugged the razor and dropped it in the drawer. After turning on the water, he stepped inside the shower stall and allowed the rising steam to alleviate the tension radiating through his body. He enjoyed reminiscing about those early days, before the kids, before they started bickering and fighting. The moment he’d met Simone he’d forgotten every other girl. Marcus had never fallen that hard or fast for someone, and he enjoyed every minute he spent with the sexy social worker from Chicago’s South Side.
Soon, pleasing Simone became his number-one priority. She was the most beautiful woman God had ever created, the only woman for him, and Marcus didn’t want to lose her to someone else. That’s why he’d surprised her with a trip to the Dominican Republic for their six-month anniversary, and why he’d popped the question their first night there. Two days later, they were married at sunrise on Boca Chica beach. His friends had thought he was crazy for eloping, but Marcus was in love and anxious to start his life with Simone.
Turning off the water, he grabbed a towel from the metal bar and patted his skin dry. Marcus gave more thought to what Simone had said. Had he made a mistake opening another gym? Simone used to meet him at the door with a kiss, cook him meals that would impress the White House chef and give him a kick-ass rubdown at the end of a long day.
Then, he opened his sixth fitness center and the loving stopped. So did her daily inquiries about the business. They stopped confiding in each other and started arguing more. Simone quit being his rock, his sounding board, the person he turned to when he needed sound advice. These days she cut him off whenever he mentioned Samson’s, and she complained constantly about his schedule. She was right though. He was working insane hours. On a good day, he’d leave Samson’s by six and not have to do paperwork in their home office, but that rarely happened.
That’s why he’d met up with his staff at All-Star Sports Bar.
He needed to unwind, and, contrary to what Simone thought, there was nothing wrong with him hanging out with his staff. It was good clean fun, and joking around with his employees helped alleviate his frustrations and stress.
Sighing, he rubbed lotion along his arms and down his torso. Apologizing to Simone was the right thing to do, the only thing to do. Facing her was the easy part. Saying sorry was another issue altogether, he thought, shaking his head.
Marcus stood there, thinking. Tomorrow he’d make it up to Simone. He’d have his receptionist send her the biggest floral arrangement she’d ever seen. That’s sure to get me out of the doghouse and back into her good graces, he decided, pulling on his T-shirt. And if I play my cards right maybe she’ll come with me to Manchester at the end of the month—
Wrinkling his nose, he sniffed the fragrant scent perfuming the air. He smelled sandalwood, patchouli, vanilla. That could only mean one thing: Simone was burning incense. Egyptian musk was her feel-good fragrance and whenever she wanted to...
Dayum. Simone was in the mood.
Marcus scratched his head, shook the thought from his mind. No way. It couldn’t be. She was pissed at him. He cracked open the door and peeked inside the bedroom. Soft music was playing, the lights were low and Simone was lying