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Isaiah frowned. “What question, LaQuandra?”
“I asked are you fucking that bitch?”
Isaiah knew that wasn’t what he’d heard her ask him, but whatever. Deny. Deny. Deny.
“No, I’m not fucking Cass.” He saw the doubt on LaQuandra’s face as her eyes stayed firmly on him, but she was talking to Dr. Dangerfield when she said, very softly (a stark contrast to the anger etched on her face), “He’s a fucking liar.”
Isaiah went tense. Tight. And he was chanting in his head:
Deny, deny, deny . . .
“I have no reason to lie to you, Quandra,” he stated flatly. And yet he had every reason to stretch the truth, for no other reason than not wanting to hear her damn mouth.
This motherfucker must really think I’m some stupid bitch. LaQuandra tilted her head and gave him an “oh really” look.
“Mmph. Well, if you’re not screwing her,” she said disbelievingly, “then you must be out there giving that dick to somebody else because you sure in hell haven’t been giving it to me.”
“There’s no one else, Quandra, damn,” Isaiah said, frustration lacing his tone.
“You’re so full of shit, Isaiah,” LaQuandra snapped, and Isaiah saw her jaw tighten as fury marred her face.
“How long has it been since you’ve been intimate with your wife?” Dr. Dangerfield asked Isaiah.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s been a minute.”
LaQuandra scowled. “It hasn’t been no damn minute,” she snapped. “Try months.” She looked at Dr. Dangerfield, who saw the hurt in LaQuandra’s eyes. “Who does that? Not fuck his wife? And I know his ass isn’t somewhere jacking his shit because he doesn’t like it. Ain’t no real man not fucking something.”
Isaiah shook his head. “And you’re wrong. I do jerk off when I feel the need to. But you’re right, I don’t like to. I’d rather have it done for me.”
LaQuandra sneered at him. “Yeah, I bet you do.” She huffed. “I’m stuck with a battery-operated playmate and my goddamn fingers, while you go off and fuck your trifling-ass baby mother.”
“I don’t run off and fuck her,” Isaiah countered over his frustration. “Damn. Why the fuck are you so damn obsessed with Cass, huh, Quandra?”
LaQuandra blinked. “I’m not obsessed with that bitch. What I am is pissed that you keep choosing that bitch over me.”
“Listen. Stop that dumb shit,” he warned. “I haven’t chosen Cass over you. I’m with you, ain’t I?”
Barely.
And the question meant nothing to LaQuandra when he hardly ever made her feel like he was present in their marriage the way he used to.
She huffed. “Isaiah, kiss my fucking ass. Okay? Don’t even try to play that shit with me.”
“What shit, Quandra?” Isaiah felt himself becoming increasingly agitated. Perhaps it was the guilt getting to him. “Damn. What the fuck you want from me, huh?”
LaQuandra blinked. She couldn’t believe his ass needed to ask. Wasn’t it obvious what she needed, wanted, from him? Hadn’t she been clear all these months and even now?
Dr. Dangerfield slid her glasses up over her head and crossed her legs at the ankles. “Isaiah, can you tell me why you’ve withheld sex from your wife?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not beat for the bullshit.”
LaQuandra’s eyes widened. “You’re not beat? You’re not beat for what, huh, motherfucker? I’ve been nothing but good to you, nigga. And time and time again, all you do is give me your motherfucking ass to kiss.”
Isaiah frowned. “Then why the fuck are you still with me, huh, Quandra?”
Good question. But goddamn him . . . this wasn’t about her.
“Motherfucker, don’t you dare flip this shit on me. How about I ask you why the hell you’re still with me? Answer that, nigga!”
