Big Girls Do Cry Read online

  Books by Carl Weber

  Up to No Good

  Something on the Side

  The First Lady

  So You Call Yourself a Man

  The Preacher’s Son

  Player Haters

  Lookin’ for Luv

  Married Men

  Baby Momma Drama

  She Ain’t the One (with Mary B. Morrison)

  Big Girls

  Do Cry

  CARL

  WEBER

  All copyrighted material within is

  Attributor Protected.

  DAFINA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2010 by Carl Weber

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund-raising, educational, or institutional use.

  Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Special Sales Manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018. Attn. Special Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

  Dafina and the Dafina logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2009939202

  eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-6834-1

  eISBN-10: 0-7582-6834-3

  First Hardcover Printing: February 2010

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Printed in the United States of America

  CONTENTS

  Books by Carl Weber

  Prologue

  Egypt 1

  Loraine 2

  Isis 3

  Jerome 4

  Egypt 5

  Isis 6

  Loraine 7

  Egypt 8

  Loraine 9

  Isis 10

  Jerome 11

  Egypt 12

  Loraine 13

  Egypt 14

  Isis 15

  Loraine 16

  Egypt 17

  Jerome 18

  Isis 19

  Loraine 20

  Egypt 21

  Isis 22

  Loraine 23

  Isis 24

  Loraine 25

  Jerome 26

  Isis 27

  Loraine 28

  Isis 29

  Egypt 30

  Loraine 31

  Isis 32

  Loraine 33

  Isis 34

  Jerome 35

  Loraine 36

  Egypt 37

  Isis 38

  Loraine 39

  Isis 40

  Jerome 41

  Isis 42

  Loraine 43

  Isis 44

  Loraine 45

  Isis 46

  Loraine 47

  Isis 48

  Jerome 49

  Egypt 50

  Egypt 51

  Epilogue

  A READING GROUP GUIDE BIG GIRLS DO CRY CARL WEBER

  Leon

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my good friend,

  the late Reverend Joseph Simmons Sr.

  May you rest in peace, my friend.

  I hope to see you again one day.

  Prologue

  The taxi pulled into the circular driveway, rolling to a stop in front of the expensive double oak doors of the large brick colonial. Roscoe, the driver, a fortysomething dark-skinned man, placed the car in park and turned toward the woman in the back seat.

  He smiled to himself. He liked the way she looked. She was just his type of woman, thick and pretty, with skin like a chocolate bar. Oh, and even more enticing were her large, melon-sized breasts. Yes, sir, Roscoe sure loved a woman with big titties and some meat on her bones. And this one was as fine as she could be. He had thought about asking for her number or perhaps offering to show her around Richmond when she first entered his cab at the airport. Over the years, Roscoe had bedded many a lonely female passenger after picking them up at Richmond’s bus station or airport. All it usually took was some small talk and an invitation to one of the city’s many bars or eateries for a drink. But this sister had spent most of the ride on her cell phone, probably comforting some insecure boyfriend or husband afraid her fine ass would wind up with a Southern charmer like him. Now that they had reached her final destination, he would have to make his move quick if he was going to bed this plus-sized beauty.

  “That’ll be forty dollars, ma’am.” He smiled, revealing a mouth full of gold teeth.

  Tammy, a woman in her late thirties, didn’t notice his unattractive smile or his country accent, things that would have surely caught her attention and gotten under her skin if she weren’t already preoccupied with looking at the house they’d just pulled in front of. She would never admit it to anyone back home, but a twinge of jealousy swept through her body as she stared at the house. The large colonial was at least twice the size of her Jamaica Estates home back in New York, and compared to her yard, this house’s land appeared to be big enough to hold a football field or two.

  This has to be the wrong address, she told herself. They can’t afford this.

  “Are you sure we’re at the right house?” she asked without moving her head, her mind still trying to process what she saw before her.

  “Yes, ma’am. You said Four James River Lane, didn’t you?”

  Tammy glanced at the paper in her hand, then looked at the large number 4 on the house. “Yes, that’s what I said.”

  But this can’t be her house. It just can’t be. Tammy’s thoughts were consumed by jealousy.

  “Then this is where you want to be. Do you want some help with your bags?”

  She reached in her purse for her wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Forty dollars. I usually charge fifty when I come out here to Chesterfield County, but havin’ a pretty woman such as yourself in my cab, I feel like I owe you. Maybe I could show you around town. They’re having an all-you-can-eat rib festival down at Shockoe Bottom tonight. My name’s Roscoe.” He offered her his hand.

  Tammy rolled her eyes and shook her head, flashing the two-carat diamond ring on her finger.

  “My name is Married,” she snapped, “and my husband’s name is Foot in Your Ass.”

  She was about to go on putting this homely, gold-tooth fool in his place, but before she could continue, she saw someone come out of the house. A light-skinned woman, big, but not quite as large as Tammy, came running toward the taxi. That’s when Tammy knew there was definitely no mistake; she was at the right address. But how the hell did her best friend get a Mc-Mansion like this? And who the hell were they robbing to pay for it?

  Tammy handed the driver two twenty-dollar bills, then stepped out of the car. She was usually a pretty good tipper, but with that country-ass come-on the driver just tried, she figured he’d forfeited his tip.

  Egypt threw her arms around Tammy’s neck and pulled her in closely. “Tammy, girl, I missed you something awful.” She placed a huge red-lipstick kiss on Tammy’s cheek.

  Tammy smiled at Egypt when she let her go. She’d missed her friend too. They had a lot of catching up to do, and even more importantly, she wanted to know how Egypt and her new husband, Rashad, could afford such a nice house when they earned far less than she and her husband did. Or did they?

  “Girl, you moving on up, aren’t you?”

  “You think? Come on in and let me show you around.” Egypt was grinning from ear to ear. She knew Tammy had to be envious, and she loved every minute of it. “You can leave
her bags by the front door,” Egypt instructed Roscoe.

  Tammy followed her friend. Yes, she wanted to see her house. She wanted to see if the inside looked anything like the outside.

  Tammy and Egypt had known each other for almost thirty years and had been best friends since they’d met. But even best friends could have rivalries. As close as they were, the two of them had played a one-upsmanship game when it came to material things since they were teenagers. Tammy, however, had been winning this competition handily the past ten years because of her marriage to her successful husband, Tim. She had thought the title would be hers for a lifetime, but as she walked into the flawlessly decorated foyer of Egypt’s house for the first time, she was afraid that the tides had changed.

  As a matter of fact, she was so amazed as she followed her friend from room to room that she barely noticed the people sitting in the large family room until Egypt shouted out, “BGBC in the house!” and the people in the room all stood in unison and echoed, “BGBC in the house!”

  Tammy couldn’t help but blush. She smiled at Egypt, who gave her a thumbs-up. It was one of those moments in a woman’s life when she feels a sense of accomplishment. One of Tammy’s dreams was actually becoming a reality, and she couldn’t have been prouder. She’d come to Richmond for two reasons. One of them was to catch up with her friend, who she hadn’t seen since her wedding the year before. The other was to be in attendance at the first meeting of the Richmond chapter of the Big Girls Book Club. She’d started the club five years ago in New York with only one rule: you had to be at least a size 16 to become a member. With the success of that first book club, which had swelled from five members to almost thirty, Tammy had the dream that someday there would be BGBC groups in cities all over the country. Her best friend was helping her realize that dream.

  Tammy glanced around the room. There were more than a dozen people there, but she felt as if she knew four of them personally because of her conversations with Egypt. Of course, there was Isis, Egypt’s older sister and former member of the New York chapter of the BGBC. She’d moved down to Richmond a few months ago to get away from the hustle and bustle of New York, or so she said. Only time would tell if that was her true motivation. Tammy had a suspicion that there were more personal reasons involving her sister.

  Then there was Loraine Farrow, Egypt’s boss and one of Richmond’s leading businesswomen. Loraine was a tall, well-dressed woman in her early forties. Despite her 275-pound figure, she was very attractive. She owned a large public-relations firm in town. Tammy liked her right off the bat, not just because Egypt had said she was a take-charge woman who didn’t take smack from anyone, but also because of the way Loraine carried herself. It was obvious from one glance that she was a woman of class who deserved respect.

  While Loraine exuded everything good about being a black woman in her forties, the woman standing next to her represented everything bad. She had a very attractive face, with two huge dimples on both cheeks, but Tammy’s first impression of LaQueta Brown was that she was a hot mess. Her clothes were too loud; her blouse was way too tight for a woman her size; her skirt was too short; and from what Egypt had told her, she was so damn boisterous it could make you sick. She put the g in ghetto and really didn’t care.

  But as much as Tammy was appalled by having LaQueta in the BGBC, there was only one member she disapproved of on principle. That member was Jerome. Oh, yes, Jerome was a man, a very handsome man at that. Perhaps even a little too handsome. Tammy argued with Egypt about him for almost two weeks on the phone, but her friend wouldn’t budge on including him in her BGBC chapter.

  “Our club has only one rule, Tammy,” Egypt had argued, “and that’s that members have to be at least a size sixteen. Well, we put him in a dress, and he meets the size requirements.”

  “But he’s a man, Egypt!”

  “So? It’s not against the rules. And he reads everything from romance novels to Mary Monroe to L. A. Banks.”

  Tammy was so puzzled by Egypt’s insistence on Jerome joining that she accused her of sleeping with him. “Sounds to me like someone’s trying to keep their boyfriend close and not raise any eyebrows.”

  Of course, she got a denial and some very choice words back.

  “You know what? Fuck you, Tammy. I’ve never cheated on my husband. Not once! Can you say the same?”

  There was silence; then Tammy said, “That was cold, girl.”

  Egypt didn’t mean to be so spiteful and throw Tammy’s business in her face, but sometimes it was the only way to keep her friend in line. “I’m sorry, but you need to stop. You know I would never mess around on Rashad.”

  “I also never thought you’d invite a man into our book club. So, as the president, I must say no.”

  “You may be the president, but this is my chapter, and if I can’t run it the way I see fit, then there isn’t going to be a Richmond chapter.”

  Egypt knew how much Tammy wanted the club to go national. She took a gamble, but the gamble paid off. Tammy finally gave in, and the core for the Richmond chapter was formed.

  Now, Tammy settled in to a plush armchair in Egypt’s living room and watched as her friend got the meeting under way.

  Egypt

  1

  “So, what’s this thing Rashad’s doing to make all this money? And how can me and Tim get down?” Tammy asked as we walked into the Tobacco Company, one of Richmond’s most well-known eateries and watering holes. We’d left my house after our book club meeting, because Tammy was leaving in a few days, and I really wanted some time alone with my best friend. “Girl, you been holding out. I’m supposed to be your best friend. Why I gotta come all the way down here and find out that your man’s making all these country-ass Negroes a small fortune? All you had to do was pick up the phone.”

  I ignored Tammy, letting her continue to ramble as the blond hostess asked us, “How many in your party?” I put up two fingers and watched the young woman pick up two menus and then motion for us to follow her to our table. Tammy, who hadn’t stopped speaking since we’d arrived, walked alongside me. At our table, the hostess placed the menus next to our plates and we sat down.

  “Juan will be your waiter, and he will be right with you,” the hostess told us before she walked away. I picked up my menu and began to peruse the selections, while Tammy was still talking.

  “Egypt, you didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” Tammy asked.

  When I didn’t answer, she tapped her spoon on her water glass to get my attention. “Earth to Egypt. Earth to Egypt. Are you there?”

  I’d heard most of what she’d said, but my mind just wasn’t in the conversation. It was elsewhere. Don’t get me wrong; it wasn’ tas if the subject wasn’t interesting. I was very proud of my husband and his work. And let’s face it, who better to show off to than Tammy, the woman who had been throwing her and her husband Tim’s money in my face for the past ten years? But for me, this wasn’t a time to be petty. I had more serious things on my mind that I wanted to discuss, only I didn’t know how or where to start. I had a favor I needed to ask Tammy, and it wasn’t a small favor by any stretch of the imagination. It was the kind of favor you ask only of your best friend, because it was the kind of favor only a best friend would grant you.

  “I’m here, Tammy. I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.” I looked up from the menu.

  “Well, girl, you need to get your mind right, because we need to talk.” She sat back in her chair. “I’m hurt.”

  Hurt? What the hell did she have to be hurt about? I mean, I knew she was jealous of my house, but damn. I’d watched her eyes flash like a camera as she took in and memorized my décor and the color scheme that ran throughout the rooms. Hell, half the members of the book club were whispering in my ear about how her nose hooked around every nook and cranny of my house during and after the book discussion. Knowing her, she was pissed off about some color scheme I’d picked out that was too similar to one of the rooms in her house. I could see her now: When sh
e got home, she’d be telling everyone in New York that my whole house was biting her style.

  Well, she needed to get over it. Imitation is a form of flattery.

  On the ride over, I noticed she was furtively checking out my designer pantsuit and my Louis Vuitton purse when she saw the Bloomingdale’s bags in my trunk. Shit, I had always had nice things and wore nice clothes when I was in New York, but I’d always gotten them from Marshalls, T.J. Maxx, and Filene’s Basement, not Bloomingdale’s and Saks like her. She was used to me shopping on a budget, and it was obvious she just couldn’t get over how I’d come up in the world. I loved her to death, but we’d always been “frenemies.” I knew Tammy had a competitive nature, but I still couldn’t understand how she could take my success personally. What the hell did she have to be hurt about? It was just my time to shine.

  “Ummm, what exactly are you hurt about?” My eyes were locked on her as I waited for an answer.

  “Well, I was talking to that sweetheart of a woman, Loraine, after the meeting, and she told me that she just gave Rashad a six-figure check to invest—and that half the book club has their money invested with him.”

  Was I missing something? She genuinely looked upset about people being invested in my husband’s company. Maybe she wasn’t the woman I should ask to do me this favor. “I had no idea you’d be interested. I thought you and Tim were through with the stock market after all the money you lost last year.”

  She raised her voice. “You didn’t tell me he was investing in solar and wind energy. Everybody knows that’s where half of Obama’s stimulus package money went. Oh, and you damn sure didn’t tell me he was doubling everybody’s money. Loraine told me he’s one of the top money managers in Richmond.”

  I smiled proudly. I loved it when people said good things about Rashad. He worked so hard to provide for me, and I loved him so much. I honestly don’t know what my life would be like without him.

  “I told you he was running a hedge fund, didn’t I? You do remember that, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, but you should have told me how much money y’all was making.”