The Eleventh Commandment by Lutishia Lovely Page B

got down like that.”
    Bo had retorted, “Then I guess since your wife’s baby daddy is gay, you’re not getting down with her?”
    Stacy’s intervention had prevented an episode of Fisticuffs, Beat-downs, and Curse-Your-Ass-Outs, but since that confrontation, Tony had refused interaction except when absolutely necessary for the sake of the child. Meaning that if he were home when Darius dropped off DJ, he’d eke out a “how you doing” and then promptly leave the room.
    No, Bo. Don’t be a bitch about this. Don’t make waves until you know for sure there’s another boat in your harbor. Plan of action decided, he picked up his phone, stored Paz’s number, and cleared the screen just as he heard Darius’s keys jingling in the door. Bo poured another Courvoisier, this time on the rocks, fixed Darius’s favorite drink, and walked toward the living room to meet him. Halfway there he changed course and took the drinks into the bedroom. He was too happy and life was too good for anybody to think for a minute that he’d give any part of it up. Couldn’t nobody love Darius the way that he did and when it came to this fact, Bo believed that he could show him better than he could tell him.

13
    Nosy Nannies
    F rieda heard the doorbell ring. She wasn’t expecting anyone and assumed that Cordella would send whoever had the nerve to solicit at her doorstep on their merry way. Having decided to end the suspense in at least one area of her life, she was busy researching DNA-testing companies. Earlier, she’d retrieved a few hairs from the comb that Gabriel had recently used and had placed them in a plastic bag. Gabe looked a lot like her, true, but the “good hair” on his dome was not the product of a texturizer, conditioner, or either person listed on the child’s birth certificate. There were a couple of past partners whose genes could have been the source of that trait. She hoped it was Shabach, a multi-platinum gospel hip-hop artist—because in the event of a divorce, he’d keep the paper rolling—but it could be Gorgio, her former running buddy and casual sex partner for many years. Either way, a sistah had to know. Raised voices from the foyer area brought her out of her musings.
    The female voice was clearly that of her house manager, Cordella. “I don’t care what she told you. This is my place of employment and you cannot come strutting through the front door as though it’s your due. Why didn’t you call and tell me you were coming?”
    The mumbled male voice sent a squiggle through Frieda’s nana. Clark! She closed the browser of her latest search and made quick work of the distance between her shared office with Gabriel and the front part of the house. “It’s all right, Cordella. I asked Clark to come here.” Actually, she’d had no idea that her lover would show up on the front door of the home she shared with her husband but ... okay. Gabe was sleeping, his father wouldn’t be home for several hours, and it had been two days.
    â€œWhat?” Cordella looked at her with both scorn and skepticism.
    This witch has been tripping with me ever since I checked her about helping Gabriel get all up in my business. She made up a story on the spot. “The last time he was here he, uh, told me about a new computer program. I asked him to come over and teach me how to operate it.” The lie came so quickly and so easily that had she been more limber, Frieda would have patted her own back.
    â€œForgive me, Mrs. Livingston, but I don’t believe it is proper that my son visit you in this way.”
    â€œAnd I don’t think it’s proper for you to question my behavior! Three months ago, when you needed to quickly get money to your grandchild, you didn’t believe it improper that I gave you an advance on your salary, and that your son came over then, did you?”
    â€œNo,