I swear, my plan was to talk her guard down just enough to kiss her. I only wanted to taste her mouth again and knew I had a shot because she herself was intoxicated. I turned it over in my head the entire fifteen minutes I waited in the truck for her. I considered it all while carefully selecting her favorite rock band. I deliberated hard as I rolled up the partition not wanting to give her a reason not to give me that small piece of intimacy with her that I craved. But when she practically fell into the truck, exposing the muscles in her toned thighs, all good judgment went out the window and I needed to taste more than her mouth.
Then just one orgasm for her wouldn’t do. No. My selfish ass needed more from my Ni?a. My compulsion led me to go another round. Hearing her cries, feeling the pads of her fingers against my head and her thighs shake around my head made me forget the strong willed, steely-veneered Elizabeth I’d been encountering since I left her apartment when Jordan was four months old. Her * pumping into my face, reminded me of when things were good between us, pure. It brought back the good vibes we shared before I selfishly changed the course of her life. The course that she took, adjusted to and made her bitch, hence the celebrations of the day.
Now I’m feeling insecure as a motherfucker, wondering had I pushed her too far. I’d done that over the years; pushed her further than a responsible man should. Even if not maliciously, I’ve manipulated her once or twice since knowing her, earning me the lifetime achievement award for selfish asshole when it comes to Elizabeth Zoey Barrett.
My phone sounded. This time it was a call.
“Jax. What’s up?”
“StentRo, I just wanted to be clear on your direction for the recording before we decline the offer.”
“Let that shit hit the fan, man,” I confirmed.
Jackson confidently and professionally assured, “I will contact the perp and tell him thanks, but no thanks.”
“Cool.”
“But I must assert, StentRo… I have no idea why you’re cool with this. I mean, she fucked up, but I sense you have an angle and that I’m lost on. What’s your end game, man?”
Zoey.
“Jackson, I didn’t get into this to be paying off fuckers for exposing her trifling ways. I have better things to do with my bread. I questioned her about him before and she denied it, although we’ve had intel from day one.”
“So, are you calling it off?”
“No. I’ll see how this shit rides out. She’ll shoot herself in the foot publically, no doubt.”
“And that will leave you…?” he quickly returned.
“Unaffected, not giving a slight fuck. This ain’t my heart at play, Jax. It’s just business for me.”
Jackson sighed heavily into the phone, “Okay, man. Consider it done.”
~~~~~~~~~~
October 2009
~Zoey~
The doorbell rang. I jumped in my seat, looking behind me as though the front door would be there. I was in the dining room of my apartment, working on a class assignment.
“I have it!” Eligia called out, I presumed on her way to the door at the other end of the apartment.
This was strange. We never had unexpected guests. Even Stenton’s visits were planned in advance. I heard footsteps pacing down the hall towards me. I was completely jolted at the recognition.
“I’m going to finish up dinner before my boy wakes,” Eligia informed with a smile before taking off.
With my mouth agape, I nodded my acknowledgement. I couldn’t believe what the wind blew in to Philadelphia.
“Hey,” I muttered tentatively.
She ducked her head, cheeks heated bashfully.
“Hey, Zo.”
I attempted, “I-I don’t know what to sa—”
Her palms rose, interrupted my stalling. “Let me start. I’m sorry, Zo. I’m really sorry.”
I saw the tears pooled in her lids, something rare for her emotional make up. My lids widened even more. I was still at a loss for words.
“It’s something I’ve been wanting to say for over a year, but was too jealous to say so. Then when I got the jealousy under control, fear took over. I didn’t want you to question my motives.”
“Ang, I would never question your motives. I would prefer your friendship…after the apology, of course.” She snorted. Then something hit me. “Why jealousy?”