Free Free Fridays by Pat Tucker Page A

her body felt heavier than dead weight. He was pissed, despite the fact that he had arrived home only twenty minutes before Leela. He felt she disrespected their marriage just by being out ’til sunup.
    The fact that she had to be brought home by some dudes he didn’t know was an even bigger dis. And neither one of them had the decency to get out of the car and say anything to him. That would’ve been the right thing for a real man to do.
    Then look at what she had worn! No way in the world a married woman had any business being out in the streets in some mini-dress showing off all her damn assets.
    Once he got her upstairs and into bed, he closed the door and went down to his man-cave to try and calm down. He needed to tell her about the foul behavior and he was gonna take it a step further, too.
    Instead of going to sleep, Riley’s mind raced with thoughts of how he needed to put his foot down and get his household back in order.
    The more he thought about it, the more he convinced himself that he probably didn’t need to go in too hard on his wife. If he had to think about some of the things that had happened while he was out with Bill, he knew there would be enough to raise an eyebrow. But, hell, he was a man! That was different. Wives were held to a higher standard, especially his, and Leela knew that.
    The next day, it was noon before Leela emerged from the room.
    Riley was in the kitchen marinating pork chops to grill.
    â€œHey,” he said as his wife walked into the kitchen.
    â€œSsshhh. My head,” Leela complained. She pointed a finger toward her temple.
    Riley slammed a pot on the counter top and his wife cringed.
    â€œThat’s wrong on so many levels,” she complained.
    â€œHey, you should know when to say when,” he said loudly.
    â€œQuiet! Use your inside voice, please,” Leela begged.
    She eased onto one of the high stool chairs and watched as her husband seasoned the meat. He used melted butter to brush over vegetables in a dish, then wrapped baking potatoes in aluminum foil.
    When he was finished, he turned to his wife. “This shit has got to stop. If you want to save this marriage, then I think it’s time we have a serious and long overdue talk.”

CHAPTER
11
    T he modest, four-bedroom Meyerland area home was nothing like Leela remembered. Visible repairs were needed, and the lawn was overgrown and neglected.
    â€œPah-pah. Why do you want to come by here?” Leela asked.
    It had been a month since she’d defied her mother and checked in on her grandfather. He now called a senior apartment complex home, but he still wanted her to pass by the house he once owned.
    â€œI was so proud when we found that house. Your grandmother was on top of the world. This was one of Houston’s original uppity neighborhoods,” he boasted.
    Leela looked around at the aging houses and marveled at how plain and simple they looked.
    â€œNow, it ain’t nothing compared to that mini-mansion you and Riley gots, but it was the first thing me and your grands ever owned outright. I worked hard to pay off that mortgage. Wheew! Them was the days for sure,” he said.
    â€œPah-pah. Let’s go,” Leela whined.
    â€œI just don’t like living up in that building. It’s like e’erybody always up in ya’ business. You can’t get a moment of peace. Then, they wanna be tryin’ to tell you who can come and go in ya own place,” he said.
    â€œPah-pah. The lady at the front desk is quite nice. When she realized I was your granddaughter, she pulled me to the side andasked me to explain the rules so you’d understand. You have to let the maids in to clean the place. That’s part of the perks of living there.”
    â€œRubbish!” he spat. “Let’s go. But I wanna go to Golden Corral or Luby’s. I’m not ready to go back there.”
    Leela pulled away from the curb and drove out of the