Flawfully Wedded Wives Read online

  Flawfully Wedded Wives

  Shana Burton

  www.urbanchristianonline.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Book Discussion Questions

  Shana Burton Bio

  UC HIS GLORY BOOK CLUB!

  What We Believe:

  Copyright Page

  This book is dedicated to my friend, publicist, writing sister, cupcake provider, and inspiration, Davidae “Dee” Stewart. I miss you so much, but I know you’re looking down on all of us. I promise to make you proud!

  It’s also dedicated to my brave friend Aaliyah James. Not even a brain tumor could keep you down! Love ya, chick!

  Acknowledgments

  “The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise Him.” (Psalm 28:7). Lord, thank you for this gift and opportunity to write. Thank you for always taking care of me and for giving me such an awesome life! It’s not perfect, but you are, and I can rest knowing that.

  Myrtice C. Johnson, I know I thank you in every book, but I have to, because you’re the best mother and grandmother ever! You’ve set a very high standard of excellence, but I’m trying to live up to it. Thank you, Shannon and Trey, for being the best kids ever! You give me purpose, you make me laugh, and you’re a constant reminder of how blessed I am. I love you so much.

  To the rest of my immediate family—James L. Johnson, Sr., Myrja Johnson Fuller, James “Jay” Johnson, Jr., and Matthew Watkins—I love you and thank you for being on Team Shana. You have given me the greatest support system in the world. Thank you, Jenny Scott, Rhonda Burton Bell, and Latoya Burton Ficklin for never treating me like an in-law. I’ll always love you and consider you family.

  Thank you to my dear friends and true soul mates, who hold me up and keep me going. Thank you, Deirdre Neeley, Therese Tarver, Lola Oyenuga, Tammy Dunlap, Stephanie Smith, Tralia Matthews, Tanisha Fowler, Rashada Ross, and Shameka Powers for all the long talks, laughs, weekend trips, and endless glasses of wine, and for just being your fab selves.

  Thank you to all of my guy friends who go hard for me on a daily basis. My life wouldn’t be the same without you. Thank you, Demetrius Hollis, Douglass Smith, Scott Harris, Baron Samuel, Mychal Epps, Thomas Tomlin, Jude Ratleff, Damon Wilson, Daniel Dukes, Christopher Jackson, and especially my brother and bestie, Adrick Ingram. A special thanks also goes to Dwarka Jackson. Before I met you, I was one bad date away from becoming a bitter, angry black woman. You changed all that with one smile and made me believe in love again. I don’t know how to thank you for that, but I’ll love you forever. Maybe that’s a start....

  I love my writing sisters sooo much! Thank you, Crystal Pennymon, Melissa Jones, Lisa Gibson, Traci Williams, Kim Timsley, and Nicole Ingram for not only encouraging my writing dreams but also for having the courage to pursue your own. You all are such talented writers, and I feel honored to be among such awesome women.

  I would also like to thank Dwan Abrams, Rhonda McKnight, and Tiffany Warren for inspiring me as an author, and my editor, Joylynn Jossel-Ross, for your patience and for letting me push the boundaries a little more with each book.

  Thank you, Omolola Oyenuga, Ryan Golphin, Marie Payne, and Phillip Lockett for gracing the cover of this book. It’s my absolute favorite cover ever :-). Thank you to my cousin, Yaz Johnson, and to Yaz Photography for bringing my vision to life in such beautiful fashion.

  I would be remiss if I didn’t mention all the wonderful people I’ve met as part of Leadership Macon’s 2013 class—best class ever! I feel so blessed to have met all of you. Thanks for your support!

  Thank you to my spiritual family at Beulahland Bible Church and to Pastor Maurice Watson for your prayers and for keeping me covered by the Word.

  Thank you to all my friends on Facebook. Thank you for being a part of my social networking life. Y’all know Facebook is my therapy! Thank you to all the bloggers, book clubs, radio personalities, and librarians who have helped me along the way. There are too many of you to name (especially since I’m already super late turning this manuscript in!), but please know that I thank you and appreciate everything you do for me. I thank every other author trying to have a voice in this industry. I thank God for you daily. I hope that I’ve enriched your lives as much as you’ve enriched mine.

  Most of all, I want to thank all the Shana Burton readers! I’m your biggest fan! I love hearing from you, and there are no words to express how much you mean to me. Thank you for continuing to support me. Know that I’m praying for you all the time, and I’m so grateful that you’ve let me into your lives. Happy reading and be blessed!

  Chapter 1

  “She’d be as eager for the world to know about her past as you are for the world to know that you jumped back in the sack with Vaughn and nine months later out popped that little girl in there!”

  —Angel King

  Lawson Kerry Banks’s eyes passed over the elegant spread of gourmet cookies, teas, and sandwiches on display across her best friend, Sullivan Webb’s posh living room table during what Sullivan had coined the Aunt Tea, a first birthday tea party for infant Charity and Sullivan’s closest sister friends. The four ladies and Mount Zion Ministries members assembled that September afternoon, fought each other as hard as they loved one another, laughed together as often as they cried together, and usually gave as good as they got.

  “Something’s missing,” observed Lawson, the mother figure of the bloc. She more than made up for her petite frame by being a verbal powerhouse and a spiritual force to be reckoned with.

  Lawson’s younger sister, Reginell, and good friend Angel King, nodded in agreement.

  Sullivan, a stylish and high-maintenance diva, adjusted the big pink bow wrapped around one of Charity’s Afro puffs. She inspected her work. At one year old, Charity was every bit the fashion maven that her mother was. “Yes, what’s missing is your gratitude for all the hard work I put into preparing all this food,” retorted Mount Zion Ministries’ first lady and magnet for drama and controversy.

  Lawson eyed her with suspicion.

  Sullivan relented. “Okay, all the hard work our maid put into it.”

  “It’s all very lovely, Sully,” acknowledged Lawson. “But there’s still something missing.”

  Angel plucked one of the decora
tive tea lilies next to her and secured it to the natural ringlets dripping from her head. “You mean someone.”

  Sullivan huffed and rolled her eyes. “If you’re talking about Kina Battle—”

  “Of course we’re talking about Kina,” interjected Lawson, referring to the absence of her ousted cousin, who had once completed the circle of friends. “We started this journey together. The four of us were there when you found out you were pregnant with Charity. It doesn’t seem right that Kina is not here to celebrate Charity’s birthday with us. Charity has never even had a chance to meet Kina and get to know her like she knows all of us.”

  “And why should my daughter get to know the woman who almost destroyed our family?” argued Sullivan.

  Angel raised an eyebrow. “Um . . . that woman would be you, Sullivan. You’re the one who cheated on your husband.”

  “Yes, but Kina is the one who told him about it.” Sullivan was never one to be caught without an excuse or someone to blame. “She also tried to convince him that I was carrying another man’s child.”

  “It ain’t like Kina was lying,” uttered Reginell, a cocoa-skinned beauty, as she absently braided her kinky twists into one thick plait.

  While it was true that Sullivan’s brief affair with mechanic Vaughn Lovett could have very well resulted in Charity’s conception, Sullivan had chosen to ignore that possibility and had set her mind—and both hers and Charity’s futures—on Charity being the daughter of her husband and esteemed pastor, Charles Webb.

  Sullivan continued. “Say what you want about me, but I’ve never tried to hurt anyone.”

  “That’s only because you and Vaughn had a safe word,” cracked Reginell.

  Sullivan responded with an icy glare. Despite the fact that Sullivan and Lawson were more like sisters than friends, she and Reginell had been sworn frenemies since childhood.

  “Kina knows what she did was wrong, and she apologized to you more than once,” recalled Angel.

  Sullivan fumed. “Are you all forgetting that Kina nearly killed my husband? He had the stroke right after she blabbed about me being pregnant with Vaughn’s child.”

  Angel sighed, exasperated. “She didn’t almost kill him. Charles had a stroke. I’m sure his years of unhealthy eating were a much bigger culprit than Kina.”

  “No bucket of fried chicken ever did as much damage to my husband’s health as Kina and her vicious character assassination on me. What Kina did was cruel, and it was done for no other reason than to destroy my marriage so she could have my husband for herself. Thank God Charles either doesn’t remember her telling him or has chosen to ignore it.”

  “And if Charles can forgive you for cheating and all your other sins, which far exceed Kina’s, surely you can forgive her temporary lapse in judgment,” Lawson pointed out.

  “I don’t know about y’all, but I miss her,” admitted Reginell. “I’ve barely even talked to Kina since she jetted out of Savannah a year ago.”

  “I never told her that she had to leave town. I told her she had to leave my husband and me alone.”

  “At least we get to see her every week on TV,” noted Angel. “How wild is it that she was chosen to be on a weight-loss reality show?”

  “You actually look at that mess?” grumbled Sullivan. “I don’t think I can make it through a whole episode without retching.”

  Lawson playfully nudged her. “Don’t act like you’ve never tuned in to see our girl Kina.”

  “I won’t say never, but devoting an hour of my Saturday every week to watch this charade of Kina’s is not at the top of my to-do list.”

  Lawson chuckled, in awe of her cousin. “You’ve gotta hand it to her, though. Kina is not afraid of going after what she wants.”

  “Apparently, those wants include my husband. I’m tired of talking about Kina. New subject please.” Charity began whining. Sullivan cradled the child in her arms to quiet her. “You see that? The mere mentioning of Kina’s name brings my baby to tears.”

  Reginell shook her head as she rummaged through Sullivan’s selection of herbal tea bags with her clawlike, iridescent fingernails. “What’s up with all this bougie tea you got us drinking?” she asked, crumpling her nose at a Fruits d’Alsace tea bag before dunking it into her teacup filled with hot water. “You too good for regular ole Snapple?”

  Sullivan grimaced. “It’s a tea party, you twit! Forgive me for trying to introduce a little culture into your back-alley world.”

  Reginell fluttered her mink eyelashes in indignation. “Back-alley? You grew up in the same hood that me, Lawson, and Kina did! You lived right across the street, remember?”

  “I grew up in the hood, but the hood didn’t grow in me,” scoffed Sullivan and kissed her daughter. She gawked at Reginell’s exposed midriff and tight snakeskin pants with disapproval. “Now that I think about it, I may need to start limiting your contact with Charity. I don’t want your heathen ways and hood rat–inspired fashion sense rubbing off on her.”

  Reginell gave Sullivan the once-over. “Is taking after her gold-digging, bed-hoppin’ mama any better?”

  “Can you not act like this in front of the baby?” requested Angel, weary of her role as constant referee between Sullivan and Reginell. “I swear, at one year old, Charity is more mature than both of you! It’s no secret that we’ve all been guilty of some things I’m ashamed to say out loud, but I do have to give Sullivan some credit. She’s turned out to be an excellent mother.”

  Sullivan smiled, both smug and proud. “Thank you.”

  “Yeah, Sully, even I have to admit that I didn’t think you could do it,” confessed Lawson.

  Sullivan hid her face with her hands, playing peekaboo with Charity. “Do what?”

  Lawson snickered. “Keep this child alive for a whole year!” Reginell and Angel joined in her laughter. “We didn’t even have to call child services out here once.”

  “Yeah, I lost twenty dollars on that bet,” grumbled health-conscious Angel as she waded through Sullivan’s sea of scones in hopes of finding something to eat that met her low-fat, low-calorie, gluten-free dietary demands, needed to maintain her athletic physique.

  Lawson stacked her plate with goodies. “Don’t cash out on that bet just yet. Charity’s birthday isn’t until tomorrow. She still has twenty-four hours to go.”

  “Very funny.” Sullivan tilted her arms so they could all see Charity. “As you can all see, Charity Faith Webb is alive, well, and thriving, not to mention absolutely stunning, like her mother.”

  “It’s not like we can attribute any of her looks to her father, seeing as how you don’t know who he is,” ribbed Reginell.

  Sullivan laughed bitterly in sarcasm.

  “All right, don’t be mean, Reggie,” Angel scolded playfully. “Everybody knows that this is Charles’s baby.”

  Reginell sucked her teeth. “I’ll believe it when Maury and a DNA test confirm it.”

  “We don’t need any tests,” retorted Sullivan. “Charles knows in his heart that Charity belongs to him, and so do I.”

  “Just look at those cheeks and those big brown eyes,” cooed Angel, looking down at Charity’s cherub face. “It’s like Pastor Webb popped them right out of his own sockets and put them into hers. Any fool looking at Charity would know she’s Charles’s daughter.”

  “What about last week, when you said Charity’s nose and mouth couldn’t be anybody’s but Vaughn’s?” Reginell reminded her.

  Angel gulped, and her pecan complexion blushed from embarrassment. “Did I say that?” She quickly recovered. “At this age, babies change so fast that they don’t really look like anyone for more than five minutes.”

  “Personally, I think she’s the spitting image of her gorgeous mother,” said Lawson, planting a kiss on Charity’s cheek. “Of course, now the prayer is that she doesn’t act like her!”

  “I’ve been the model first lady, wife, and mother,” insisted Sullivan, tossing a cluster of thick manufactured curls over her shoulder.
br />   “You sure have,” chimed in Reginell. “It’s been at least a year since your last infidelity scandal!”

  “A year and a half,” Sullivan replied, correcting her, and laid Charity down in her playpen.

  “I guess this means you really can turn a whore into a housewife,” cracked Reginell.

  “No doubt that’s what your fiancé told himself before asking you to marry him,” shot back Sullivan, alluding to Reginell’s days as an exotic dancer. “At the very least, I’m sure that’s the sound bite Mark uses whenever he runs into one of your old pole patrons in the street.”

  Reginell geared up for an acidic reply. Lawson stopped her. “Remember you started it, Reggie.”

  “Sully, you have to admit that Reggie has come a long way from the wild child we had to anoint with oil a few years ago,” conceded Angel, pouring another cup of tea.

  “We’ve all come a long way,” affirmed Lawson. “No more stripping for Reggie, no more creepin’ for Sully.” She lifted her eyes toward Angel. “No more Internet porn for you.”

  “Must you keep bringing that up?” questioned Angel, a little testy. “Mind you, my brief foray into porn also occurred during the time I was competing with my fiancé’s dead wife for his love and attention. It was my coping mechanism.”

  “Coping mechanism?” repeated Sullivan with skepticism.

  “Yes, the same way downing bottles of tequila used to be your coping mechanism,” blabbed Angel. “We all have our vices. Mine just happened to be naked and online. These days, I only use the Internet for what it was created for—shopping.”

  Reginell sifted through Sullivan’s assortment of gourmet cookies. “We’ve all made changes in the right direction except you, Lawson.”

  “What have I done?” balked Lawson, grabbing a smoked salmon finger sandwich.

  “It’s what you haven’t done,” Angel informed her. “You still haven’t forgiven your husband.”

  Lawson averted eye contact. “I forgave Garrett for his affair with Simone a long time ago.”

  Angel softened her tone. “Yeah, you’ve said the words, but what counts is what’s in your heart. If you have truly forgiven him in your heart, you wouldn’t be still punishing him and little Simon.”