A Ram in the Bush by Barbra Porter-Coleman (if you liked this book .TXT) 📕

Shay Knight flung the dining room curtain back and glared out the window. She scanned the busy streets of Los Angeles for the fourth time; urgently hoping one of the vehicles was her husband’s Chrysler 300M. Shay angrily shut the custom-made curtains that made an agreeable, swooshing sound then flipped her wrist, anxiously checking her watch again. The numbers practically screamed from her watch 7:00 p.m. Suspicions of unfaithfulness were once again invading Shay’s pretty little head. Where was the vivacious spunk and confidence that she dominated in the courtroom when defending her clients? When it came to her husband, spunk and confidence collided with suspicion and raging insecurities.
Winston should’ve been home forty-five minutes ago, she told herself as her forehead wrinkled. The exact distance between their home and his office, firmly embedded in her mind fifty miles roundtrip. Shay walked back into the kitchen, picked up the cordless phone, and dialed Winston’s cell phone. It immediately went to voicemail.
“Oooohhhh.” Shay shuddered with displeasure as she slammed the phone down. Why couldn’t that man answer at least one out of fifteen phone calls? Where is he? With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, she walked over to the kitchen sink and her hands shook as she tried to wash dishes. Shay’s hazel eyes nervously shifted back over to the cordless phone once again. She dried her hands on her apron, briskly grabbed the phone, and dialed yet another time, but the call went unanswered.
“Damn!” She slammed the phone down with even greater force than before. With fists balled up and lips pressed tight, Shay began pacing the kitchen floor like a caged lioness. Butterflies fluttered furiously in her stomach as her breathing became increasingly feverish. By process of elimination, calling Dr. April Knight was next on the list. Since Winston wasn’t home or at work, maybe he was at his mother’s house. Shay sat on a barstool and deliberately took in long, calming breaths, hoping to slow her heart rate and calm her nerves. This overwhelming paranoia and suspicions, just wouldn’t release its hold on her.
Eyeing the clock, Shay picked up the phone, debating whether she should call Winston’s mother. The two maintained strained cordiality only because of Winston. If Shay had things her way, they would move from Los Angeles to a city in the Midwest, far away from Winston’s mother. She felt his mother was a Ms. Know-It-All because of her occupation.
Though a façade, Shay mentally practiced a calm tone of voice. She knew his mother, Dr. Knight, did not care one whit for her and the feeling was absolutely mutual. Shay dialed the number, and after the second ring, Dr. Knight answered in a soft voice, “Hello.”
“Hi, Dr. Knight,” Shay said in the most pleasant tone that she could muster.
“Hi, Shay. To what do I owe the honor?” she asked pleasantly.
With urgency Shay asked, “Have you seen Winston?”
“No, but I talked to him earlier today. By the way, you don’t have to call me Dr. Knight.”
“What time was that?” she asked, thinking, How dare he call his mother and ignore all my calls? Shay ignored her mother-in-law’s cordial request and said, “He should have been home an hour ago.” Shay’s anger was inevitably bubbling to the surface. The uncontrollable thought of Winston cheating made her so tensed she could just scream.
“My dear, he’s probably still at work.” Dr. Knight sighed patiently. “Let me give you some motherly advice, baby.” Her voice was soft and gentle.
Despite her best effort, Shay’s voice quivered with anger. “I didn’t call you to get advice. I just wanted to know if you had spoken to him. This is our business, and I would appreciate it if you’d stay out of it,” she snapped.
“Baby, you called me,” she reminded her. “I just want to help.” Her voice never changed in tone.
“You can help by…” Shay’s voice trailed off as she heard the sound of the garage door raise. She listened keenly as Winston’s car pulled into the garage. “He’s here now,” she said, then abruptly hung up without so much as a good-bye. Shay noted the exact time of Winston’s arrival on a mahogany grandfather clock, and quickly shifted a suspicious gaze toward the door.
Winston stepped through the kitchen door with a broad smile. He held his arms out engagingly expecting to embrace his wife. Before he could even utter a hello, Shay tore into him like a police detective interrogating a murder suspect.
“You’re late! Where were you?” She jumped down from the barstool, a hand tightly clenched on her hip.
His smile dissipated and his happiness quickly morphing into frustration. Winston tossed his briefcase to the floor. “For crying out loud Shay! Don’t start again,” he replied, as he slammed the door with irritation. “We’ve only been married for six months and for the last three months I’ve had to deal with this rabid jealousy of yours almost every week.” They glared at each other like two heavyweight boxers sizing each other up before a big fight. “I give up,” he raised both hands in the air. “I’ve tried. Apparently, there’s nothing I can say or do that will satisfy you. Whatever the problem is, it’s not me. These are your issues, and you knew you had them before we got married, but you need to do something about them.” Winston passed a disgruntled hand through his short wavy hair and walked over to the kitchen island.
“You could have returned my calls.” Angry arteries pulsated visibly in Shay’s neck. “Your dinner has been ready for the past thirty minutes.” She walked over to the kitchen table and slammed down two empty plates as if they were exhibit A.
Winston leaned against the island; his arms folded tightly, and watched her like a father would watch a crazed and selfish brat. “I wish that I could squeeze the jealousy out of you.” She shot him a nasty look. “Look Shay, I was at work,” he began to explain in measured tones. “How many times in the past couple of months have I called you and told you that I was going to be late? I don’t care how many times I call; you never seem to believe that I’m at work in the first place, so why should I even bother?”
Shay knew he was right. She wouldn’t have believed him. The desire to trust seemed inextricably associated with letting her guard down. Shay was afraid to trust. After all, she thought, when you trust someone, you just end up getting hurt worse in the long run.
“I’ll tell you why bother,” she said, as she squinted hard at Winston. “At least I’ll know where you are.”
“You know I’m often between my office and the gym,” he reminded her. “Actually, I was on the court with my basketball players. As far as calling, my cell phone battery is dead.” He threw the black flip phone on the island, upset because he found himself continuously having to explain and justify his whereabouts to appease his new wife.
There was no attempt at politeness as she stood glaring at him. Why doesn’t he just break down and admit that he had been with another woman? At least that would finally explain the obvious. Compulsively, she picked up his cell phone and checked to see if the battery really was dead. Pressing the ‘on’ button and getting no response, she was at least relieved that he wouldn’t see the staggering amount of times she had called him.


Winston’s placid look now replaced with anger and irritation as he shook his head again in disgust. “This conversation is pointless.” He picked up his briefcase and marched up the spiral staircase to the bedroom, muttering to himself. I come home every day. I don’t go to clubs, I don’t hang out with the guys, and she still doesn’t trust me. What more can I do? Her insecurities are destroying this marriage. He walked into the bedroom, and threw his briefcase on an antique chair. Stretching his long body on their king-size bed, he folded his hands behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling and reflected. What have I gotten myself into? I’m getting out of this marriage. This is not how it’s supposed to be in paradise. He wrinkled his forehead and massaged his brow trying to relieve the rising tension. There’s nothing I can do or say to convince her of my fidelity. It’s useless. It’s just useless.
Winston’s thoughts drifted back in time, reminiscing about how he first met Shay and her friend, Rose, at a Lakers basketball game. Shay stood 5 feet 8 inches tall. She was wearing a clingy yellow, sleeveless sweater, yellow pumps, and a pair of revealing blue jeans that enhanced a shapely, round posterior. Her neatly arched and thinned eyebrows framed pretty, slanted, hazel-brown eyes. Her gaze was hypnotic. Her full, shapely, red lips blended perfectly with a smooth, peanut-brown complexion that hinted at her biracial heritage. They had stood side-by-side at the concession stand, waiting to place an order. Winston gazed at the gorgeous beauty next to him, aching to know her. Was that long, wavy, golden-blonde hair naturally hers, or extensions? He didn’t care. He just knew he had to meet her. With eighteen thousand fans, what was the possibility of running into this lady again after leaving the concession stand, he thought. Winston leaned over the counter and whispered in the cashier’s ear. The cashier looked at Shay, and then whispered to the cashier that was waiting for Shay to place her order.
Shay’s friend, Rose, joined Shay in line. They both placed orders and began to pay for their food; but the cashier advised that their orders had already been paid. The cashier looked at Winston and smiled. The two ladies looked over at Winston and thanked him, as they self-consciously walked away.
Winston quickly paid for his food and maneuvered through the crowd.
“Thank you for buying our food,” said Rose when Winston caught up with them.
“You’re welcome,” he said as the crowd surged around them.
“Yes, that was a pleasant surprise,” Shay said as they began to walk side-by-side.
“You’re welcome. My name is Winston,” he said with his baby-brown eyes locked on Shay.
“I’m Shay, and this is my friend, Rose.”
“May I walk you back to your seats?” he asked, his 6 feet 7 inches body soaring over the two ladies. He’d hope Shay was getting a glimpse of his firm physique.
“Yes, you may,” Shay said.
“Do you play basketball?” Rose asked, gauging him from head to toe.
“Not anymore. I played for the University of Southern California some years ago,” he said as they turned the corner and headed for the bleachers. “I’m the assistant basketball coach now for Cal State LA.”
Shay’s eyes lit up at the sound of a basketball coach. “Aren’t you rather young to be coaching?” she asked as they continued to walk.
“I’m one of the youngest coaches in college basketball as a matter of fact,” he said taking a bite of a Snickers candy bar.
“Okay, Winston, our seats are up there,” Rose said after suddenly stopping.
“Where?” he asked.
“Up there.” Rose pointed.
“In the nosebleed section?” he asked, one hand shading his eyes as if to discern the distance.
They all laughed.
“Not that far up. We’re in Section 217.” Rose pointed again. “I’m going on up. Nice to meet you, Winston.”
“Nice meeting you too, Rose.”
Shay laughed. “Nosebleed section, huh? So where are you sitting, Mr. Big Shot?”
He pointed down to seats much closer to the floor.