I bent to quickly tie my boots and walked out of the room and down the stairs to grab my vest. After leaving Englewood that night, I heard from Jenna again twice: once for me to get my things from her place. I tossed the request to Srey after I replied to Jenna’s email. The next time I heard from her was the following week. Apparently, it was right after the messenger left with my things. She warned about me missing our explorative sex life and that’s when I knew she was emotional and…drunk. After letting her rattle on for a few minutes, I politely yet briskly threw her off the phone.
That was all almost two damn months ago. I’ll be damned if that was the end of Jenna. This evening as I’m catching up on television to kill my nerves before meeting Zoey for dinner, I came across TMZ where paparazzi caught Jenna and her girlfriend staggering out of a bar in New York. The pap obviously recognized Jenna and her blotto and asked where her boyfriend was. Jenna asked who he was referring to.
The pap said, “StentRo.”
She and her girl giggled at the name before Jenna clarified, “He’s not my boyfriend. I wasn’t her.”
Apparently, the guy didn’t pick up on her last cryptic line. I damn sure did. But his follow up question was, “Really? Since when?” He screamed that as they shuffled quickly across the street and into a parking garage.
Jenna yelled over her shoulder with a wrinkled forehead, “Wow…” She had an expression of pondering. “Two months ago.” That was the end of the exchange because the girls fell into the garage, laughing like school girls.
What were the odds of Zoey catching that clip at the same time that I did.
Shit!
I pulled into Zoey’s building and knocked on the door a little harder than necessary. Sarah answered the door, appearing relieved by the sinking of her shoulders. She motioned with her eyes beyond the foyer. I stepped in and headed toward the back of the apartment when I found Zoey coming from the kitchen wearing a scowl before even recognizing me. Her hair was up in a curly fro and she wore a fitted Eagles tank and short gray sweat shorts, exposing her toned thighs, and held a pint of pistachio ice cream in one hand and a bowl of what I perceived to be Sarah’s chicken noodle soup in the other. I knew what time it was. I was fucked.
“What are you doing here?” she asked when she recognized my presence.
“I came to talk,” I answered, suddenly feeling a stronger need to talk to her.
“Aye, Dad!” Jordan barreled down the hallway. It had quickly turned into a meeting place for all of us. “Mommy said you weren’t coming.” He hugged my legs as he always did.
Without removing my eyes from his mother, I answered, “I think Mommy made a mistake. You’re still going to your MaMa’s and Eligia’s gonna pick you up tomorrow to bring you home.”
“You’re going with MaMa?” Zoey asked in shock. “I thought you were staying with me tonight and making churros.”
“PaPa is waiting on me, Mommy. We’re supposed to do…guy stuff.”
“But—”
“You go ahead with your MaMa. I’ll call y’all in a minute,” I asserted then turned to Sarah whose expression was trained.
She sensed the tension in the room. I just needed to get them out before Zoey turned confrontational. I needed to handle her ass alone. There was no way she was going to shit on me like she got away with on Christmas. I wasn’t having it. Fuck that. I’d witnessed horror stories with my colleagues and the mothers of their children. I wasn’t going to start us down that road. That wasn’t who Zoey was and she wouldn’t turn into that shit either, if I had anything to do with it.
“Come on, baby. PaPa is waiting on us,” Sarah gently tugged JR’s hand, taking off for the door.
She paid a last glance at Zoey and me, expressing her concerns before turning the corner for the foyer. When they were out of sight, I turned to Zoey, assessing her for my next cue. When the door closed shut, she came with it.
“Who do you think you are going over my head, arranging childcare for Jordan?”
“Having him spend the night with your parents doesn’t exactly qualify as childcare arrangements.”
“Didn’t I tell you I didn’t want to talk to you? Didn’t I ask you not to contact me anymore?”
“That shit’s not going to happen,” I informed as calmly as I could.
Zoey’s eyes went big. She wasn’t expecting that answer or level of composure.