Put A Ring On It Read online

  ZANE PRESENTS

  PUT A RING ON IT

  Dear Reader:

  What can I say about Allison Hobbs other than she is phenomenal? There are very few writers that I can say that I actually admire. Allison is on the top of that list. She is a powerhouse of a writer and she keeps churning out one masterpiece after another; year after year. It is always my pleasure to personally edit her books the second they are turned in. Put a Ring on It continues to excite and entice my literary palate.

  Lately, there has been much emphasis placed on women seeking that diamond ring; to be validated by marriage. Books, songs, movies, you name it; the controversy has exploded. Now the three women in Put a Ring on It: Vangie, Harlow, and Nivea, scramble to see who can make it to the altar first. But making it down the actual aisle is the least of their problems as they have to contend with baby’s fathers who make disappearing acts, fiancés who get tied up with blood diamonds, and a younger sister’s love interest who would rather have sex with his sister-in-law to be. Scandal, drama, lust, surprises and shockers. All the signature elements of an Allison Hobbs novel are contained herein.

  Allison’s next book is right behind this one; titled Scandalicious. What a sexy title! Make sure to check it out this fall. Also make sure that you join Allison on Wednesday nights as she conducts her weekly chat at 10 PM EST on PlanetZane.org. The topics are always sensual and on point.

  As always, thanks for supporting myself and the Strebor Books family. We strive to bring you cutting-edge literature that cannot be found anyplace else. For more information on our titles, please visit Zanestore.com. My personal web site is Eroticanoir.com and my online social network is PlanetZane.org.

  Blessings,

  Zane

  Publisher

  Strebor Books

  www.simonsays.com/streborbooks

  ALSO BY ALLISON HOBBS

  Lipstick Hustla

  Stealing Candy

  The Sorceress

  Pure Paradise

  Disciplined

  One Taste

  Big Juicy Lips

  The Climax

  A Bona Fide Gold Digger

  The Enchantress

  Double Dippin’

  Dangerously in Love

  Insatiable

  Pandora’s Box

  Strebor Books

  P.O. Box 6505

  Largo, MD 20792

  http://www.streborbooks.com

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  © 2011 by Allison Hobbs

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever. For information address Strebor Books, P.O. Box 6505, Largo, MD 20792.

  ISBN 978-1-59309-360-0

  ISBN 978-1-4516-1803-7 (ebook)

  LCCN 2011928016

  First Strebor Books trade paperback edition July 2011

  Cover design: www.mariondesigns.com

  Cover photograph: © Keith Saunders/Marion Designs

  1 0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

  DEDICATED TO KHA’RI JOHNSON

  I love everything about you: your big beautiful smile,

  the sound of your laughter, your braids, and even

  your obsession with wrestling.

  No one else in the world could make me

  sit still and watch wrestling matches.

  But I do it for you!

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  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

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  About the Author

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To my friend Daaimah S. Poole, thank you for eight years of friendship. The support you’ve given me is deeply appreciated.

  Cairo, you are so sexy and smart. I call you the male version of Zane. So glad you’re in my life. I cherish our friendship.

  Nakea Murray, thanks for running all over New York with me. I couldn’t have navigated the Big Apple without you. The Hudson was so magical! We have to run around Fifty-Eighth Street in our PJ’s one more time!

  Jason Frost, my fellow Sagittarian, premier book reviewer, and also my dear friend.

  Keith Saunders, this cover takes my breath away. Thank you.

  To my publicist at Simon & Schuster, Yona Deshommes, I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me. But I won’t get mushy because I know it irks you. LOL

  Charmaine Parker, I miss you! Thank God I’m going to see you in Jamaica!

  Zane, I usually don’t give a darn what anyone says or thinks about me…but when it comes to you…I CARE! Thank you for that matrix-like turnaround with the manuscript. You’re incredible!

  Karen Dempsey Hammond, thank you for helping me with numerous cover concepts, book titles, and for helping when I’ve written myself into a corner. You’ve been by my side throughout my literary journey and years before it ever started. No matter how hard I try, I could never repay you for all you’ve done for me.

  CHAPTER 1

  Call it a woman’s intuition. Call it a sixth sense, but instead of driving home after work, Nivea felt an urge to swing by her fiancé’s old apartment.

  When she rolled up in front of the building where Eric used to live, she gave the place a smug look. Eric’s former apartment building was a dump. She had no idea why he’d been so resistant to the idea of moving into her upscale townhouse.

  But that was water over the bridge. She had introduced Eric to a better lifestyle and she was proud of that fact.

  Nivea did a double take when she noticed the Highlander parked at the curb. Her heart rate began to accelerate when she recognized Eric’s license plate. What’s he doing here? He’s supposed to be working overtime.

  With the motor running, she jumped out of her Mazda and removed a couple of lawn chairs that were holding someone�
�s nicely shoveled parking spot. Brows joined together in bafflement, she parallel parked, cut the engine, and then got out.

  Nivea peered up at the second floor apartment that Eric had left six months ago when he’d moved in with her. She could see the twinkling colored lights that adorned a Christmas tree. She frowned at the Christmas tree. It was the first day of December, too soon to put up a tree in Nivea’s opinion.

  Eric had sublet the place to one of his unmarried friends. Which one? She couldn’t remember. Feeling a rush of uncomfortable heat, she unbuttoned her wool coat, allowing the frigid evening air to cool her.

  There had to be a good explanation for Eric being here. Something really innocent. He didn’t have to work overtime after all, and decided to stop by and visit his buddy, she told herself.

  Even though moving into Nivea’s townhouse was a step up for Eric, it had been hard convincing him to give up his crappy bachelor’s pad. She was so elated when she’d gotten him to agree to move in, that she hadn’t bothered to question him about the details of his rental transaction.

  But she was concerned now.

  Carefully, Nivea climbed the icy concrete steps that led to the front door. Inside the vestibule area, another door, this one locked, prevented her from forcing her way to Eric’s old apartment. She read the name that was centered above the doorbell of apartment number two: D. Alston.

  Who the hell is D. Alston? She jabbed the doorbell twice, and then pressed the button without letting up.

  She heard a door open on the second floor. “Stay right here. Let me handle this,” Eric said gruffly.

  Who the hell is Eric talking to?

  Eric thumped down the stairs, causing a vibration. At the bottom of the stairs, he looked at Nivea through the large windowpane that separated them. She expected a smile of surprise, but Eric gawked at her, displeasure wrinkling his forehead.

  He turned the lock, cracked the door open, and poked his head out. “Whatchu doing here, Niv?”

  “I should be asking that question. You’re supposed to be at work!”

  “Yeah, um…” He scratched his head.

  “Who’s renting the place now?”

  “Uh…”

  Refusing to give him time to gather his thoughts, she pushed the door open, and zipped past Eric.

  “You can’t go up there, Niv.”

  “Hell if I can’t!” Nivea took the stairs two at a time, the heels of her boots stomping against the wooden stairs. Eric was up to something, and she had to know what the hell was going on.

  Eric raced behind her. He roughly grabbed her arm. “You outta pocket.”

  She yanked her arm away and spun around. “Let me go, Eric!” Eric was a big, stocky man, but she gave him such a violent shove, he fell backward, stumbling down a couple of steps.

  Motivated by a suspicious mind, Nivea bolted for Eric’s apartment, which was at the top of the stairs. The door was slightly ajar. She pushed it open.

  A woman, who appeared to be in her early twenties, stood in the kitchen, clutching a baby. One glance told Nivea that the woman was street tough. Hardcore. She was not cute at all. Light-skinned, reed-thin with a narrow, ferret-like face. The Kool Aid red-colored weave she was rocking looked a hot Halloween mess. Anger flickered across the woman’s mean, sharp-featured face.

  “Who are you?” Nivea asked, hoping to hear, I’m Eric’s cousin. Hell, she was willing to accept childhood friend, or even long lost sister. She’d happily go along with any relationship, except jumpoff. She stole a glance at the baby that was buried beneath blankets.

  The skinny chick looked at Nivea like she had sprouted a second head. “How you gon’ bust in here axin’ me who da hell I am?” Her bad grammar and attitude confirmed Nivea’s suspicion that the chick was a hood rat.

  Nivea scanned the kitchen quickly. The appliances were as outdated as Nivea remembered, and the cabinetry was still old and chipped, but the room was spotlessly clean and somewhat better furnished than when Eric had lived there. Nivea took in the rather new, but cheap-looking kitchen set that had replaced Eric’s old one.

  The female tenant had tried to brighten up the dismal kitchen. Matching potholders and dishtowels were on display. The former dusty mini blinds that had once hung at the kitchen window had been replaced with ruffled curtains.

  What is Eric doing here with this ghettofied heifer and her child?

  As if she’d read Nivea’s mind, the thuggish chick turned toward Nivea. Holding the baby upright, she gave Nivea a full view of the infant’s face. Nivea felt her heart stop. The little boy, who looked to be around four or five months old, was a miniature replica of Eric.

  “Oh, my God!” Nivea squeaked out. She grimaced at the child who was Eric’s spitting image.

  Okay, I’m imagining things. That child can’t possibly be Eric’s baby!

  CHAPTER 2

  Eric barreled into the apartment. Nivea suspected he had been hanging out in the hallway, trying to get his lies together.

  “You need to check yourself, Nivea. You know you dead wrong for running up in the crib like this.”

  Nivea was stunned that Eric, her gentle teddy bear, was growling at her like a vicious grizzly bear.

  Nivea stared at the baby and then at Eric. She swiped at the tears that watered her eyes. “What’s going on, Eric?”

  The skinny chick bit down on her lip, like she was struggling to control her temper. “I’m not with this shit, Eric. You better handle it.”

  Eric tugged Nivea’s coat sleeve. “This ain’t the time or the place, Niv.”

  “Have you lost your mind, Eric? You told me you were at work. I need to know what the hell is going on. Get your coat!” She motioned with her hand. “Talk to me on the way home. We’re out of here!” Nivea waited for Eric to go get his coat, but he didn’t budge.

  The ghetto chick snickered, and then looked down at the baby. “Don’t worry, Boo-Boo; Daddy ain’t going nowhere.”

  Daddy! No way! That is not Eric’s child, Nivea told herself. With a hand on her hip, she glared at Eric. “Who is this bitch? And why are you here with her?”

  “My name is Dyeesha. I ain’t gon’ be another bitch, bitch. I don’t know who you is, but you trespassing.” The woman with the bad grammar spoke in an annoying scratchy tone, her nostrils flaring as she furiously patted her baby.

  “Eric! Tell this girl who I am!” Nivea spoke through clenched teeth.

  Looking like a cornered rat, Eric was at loss for words and could only come up with utterances and sputtering sounds.

  “How you expect him to remember the name of e’ry hooka he done slept with while I was pregnant with his son,” Dyeesha said with a sneer.

  The abrasive sound of the girl’s voice, her assumption that Nivea was a stripper and a prostitute, and her terrible grammar… it all grated Nivea’s nerves. “For the love of God, will you please tell this ignorant-ass, ghettofied, hood chick who I am!” Nivea yelled.

  As if his lips were sealed with Super Glue, Eric was mute.

  “Ghettofied! You da one acting ghetto.” Dyeesha contorted her lips. “For your information, I’m Eric’s baby mama. In a few weeks, I’ma be his wife.” Dyeesha shot a hot glance at Eric. “I can’t believe you let one of your tricks run up on me like this.”

  “Stop calling me a trick! You’re not marrying Eric. I am! Our wedding is in June,” Nivea shouted.

  Dyeesha grabbed the doorknob. “Keep dreaming. Now bounce, bitch. Take your trick ass back to that strip club you crawled out of.”

  Nivea stared at Eric. “Are you gonna just stand there while your jumpoff insults me?”

  Dyeesha snorted. “You da damn jumpoff! Now take your home-wrecking activities somewhere else!” Dyeesha tried to pass the baby to Eric. “Hold your son cuz I’m ’bout to go on her trick ass!”

  Nivea gasped. She wasn’t expecting to get into a fistfight with a street tough thug chick.

  Eric calmed Dyeesha by rubbing the length of her willowy arm. “I told you, I got this.
”

  The gentleness in Eric’s voice, the tender strokes he delivered to Dyeesha’s sweater-covered arm…and the baby! It was all too much to bear. Hotly jealous, Nivea felt her anger rising like steam. She pounced on Eric, trying to claw at his face. “You lying, cheating, broke ass, no-good scumbag. I should have never got involved with a damn warehouse worker!”

  Dodging Nivea’s fingernails, Eric tossed her off of him, knocking her into the fridge. Too wound up and too furious to feel any pain, Nivea kept fighting, jutting her kneecap upward as she aimed for Eric’s groin, which in her opinion, was the real culprit in this triangle of lies and deceit.

  She missed the intended mark, but Eric grunted in pain as Nivea’s kneecap rammed his inner thigh.

  “Get that bitch, Eric. Fuck her up,” Dyeesha goaded.

  Holding the baby, Dyeesha followed Nivea and Eric as they scuffled along a short hallway, ending up in the small living room.

  “Stop acting crazy!” Eric demanded as he grabbed Nivea by the shoulders and gave her a brisk shake. To Eric’s credit, he hadn’t actually hit Nivea; he’d merely tried to restrain her.

  Nivea maneuvered out of his grasp and landed a hard slap across his face.

  “Ow! Shit!” Eric rubbed his cheek.

  Dyeesha sucked her teeth. “Hold the baby, Eric, so I can whoop that ass.”

  “I got this!” Eric insisted as he lunged for Nivea.

  Swinging both hands, kicking, and scratching, Nivea was prepared to fight to the death. She wasn’t leaving the premises without her groom in tow. In the midst of the squabble, Nivea noticed a series of photos in silver frames. There was one with Eric holding the baby. Another with Dyeesha and the baby, and the third silver-framed photo held a family portrait.

  Feeling lightheaded, Nivea stumbled, bumping into the small Christmas tree that sat atop a table, the one she’d seen twinkling through the window.

  Three red and white stockings were thumb-tacked to the wall: Eric, Dyeesha, and Eric, Jr. was printed in glittery letters.

  Nivea punched Eric in the face. His large form toppled the Christmas tree. Glass balls shattered. Mini lights crashed against the floor.