Crossroads (19 page)

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Authors: Skyy

BOOK: Crossroads
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“Lena, calm down.” Brandon didn't know what to think of Lena's tantrum. He didn't recognize his wife anymore. Brandon's head dropped. He rubbed his hand through his hair. “Lena, I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how to help you, how to be there for you with this. I don't know if I can sit back and wait on my wife to realize if she wants to be with me or not.”
Lena looked at Brandon, his brow wrinkled, lips locked. She was breaking him. “I'm not asking you to wait.”
Brandon looked at Lena. She had never given him permission to move on before; it hurt him to know she could give him that option so easily. “When you figure out what the hell you want, you know where to find me. Just hope someone else hasn't found me first.”
Lena wanted to yell at him for his statement, but she couldn't talk. She watched as Brandon gathered his things. She wanted to tell him to stay, but something was holding her back.
Brandon looked at Lena, hoping she would say anything, but she didn't. He shook his head. The muscles in his arms bulged as he held his anger in; he gave up and walked out the room.
Lena looked at the large print of their wedding photo hanging on the wall. They looked so happy, so in love, but it was all a sham. She wondered how they pulled it off, how they were able to fool everyone, including each other. Behind the smiles were secrets. Brandon's baby's mother had interrupted their wedding celebration, only to be detained with a story about a crazed fan. Lena, holding her own secret, let Denise make love to her for the first time only hours before they said, “I do.”
Brandon finished getting dressed in the guest bathroom. He peered at his reflection in the mirror; he had done so much dirt to Lena over the years. All the groupies that he shared his bed with had caught up to him. Karma was taking care of him; he was losing his beautiful wife.
Brandon opened the door to see Lena standing in the doorway of their bedroom. Their eyes met. Two beautiful people who had a beautiful wedding, and a beautiful life now falling apart in front of them.
“I don't want to lose you in my life.” Lena wrapped her arms around his strong torso. Brandon put his arms around Lena, holding her as though it was the last time.
“You will never lose me in your life. I love you and always will.”
“What do we do now?”
“You can keep the loft, your car, and we can work the rest out.”
Lena buried her head in Brandon's chest. She felt safe in his arms, but not the type of safety she desired. “OK.”
Brandon fought his tears back. He pulled away from Lena. He placed a single kiss on her lips; they both knew it would be the last.
25
Cooley's beautiful desk was covered with papers, CDs, and photos of Sahara. The singles were bona fide hits. She knew it had to be backed up with the best CD possible. She pressed the track button on her remote, skipping to the next possible song for the CD.
Sahara's voice enticed Cooley. She fidgeted in her seat. Cooley tried to remember the last time she had sex. She knew it was too long. She needed some and she needed some bad. Sahara's pictures didn't help the situation. Her smooth caramel skin, round ass and plump breasts were calling to Cooley, and she wanted to answer. A slow knock on the door brought Cooley out of her sexual trance.
“Come in!” Cooley shifted in her chair.
The door opened slowly. Tee walked in slowly.
“What's up, Tee?” Cooley noticed the pained expression on Tee's face. Her eyes red and puffy, her lips pressed tight together. “What's wrong?”
“Cool,” Tee's voice trembled, “I'm so sorry.”
Cooley stood up. She walked from behind her desk. “What is going on?”
Cooley's phone began to blare. She picked the phone up and checked her messages.
R.I.P Keisha “Supa Sonic” Jackson. Jam Zone has lost a family member today. Sonic you will always be loved and missed.
Cooley held her phone tight. The text blurred. She couldn't move. “What happened?”
Tee struggled to respond. “She ... she OD'd” Tears began to fall from Tee's face.
Cooley fought the tears back. “I need a moment. Close the door behind you,” Cooley said, never looking up from her screen.
Tee immediately obeyed.
It felt like a bus crashed into Cooley. Her legs felt weak. She sat on the edge of her desk. Cooley closed her eyes, trying to block the images of Sonic running through her head. She could see her so vividly; the last time they saw each other, Sonic's frail state.
This is all my fault.
Tears streamed down Cooley's face. Cooley knew the news must have hit everyone. Her phone started to blare back to back. She couldn't pick it up; she couldn't face anyone. Guilt took over her body, as the images of Sonic played like a movie in her brain.
Cooley didn't hear the door open. Sahara walked in, her makeup flawed with streaks from her overflowing tears. Sahara walked over to Cooley. She put her palm on Cooley's shoulder.
Cooley didn't look up. Sahara's hand was like a magnet, bringing the emotions all the way to the surface. Cooley leaned into Sahara. Sahara wrapped her arms around Cooley.
“It's my fault, it's all my fault,” Cooley cried.
“No, baby, it's not.” Sahara held Cooley in her arms, rocking her gently.
“I shouldn't have pushed her. I pushed her. Oh God. Why! Why!” Cooley's voice cracked. She wrapped her arms around Sahara. Sahara was only the second woman to see her cry. She held on to her, not wanting to let go.
“Carla, it's not your fault. She wouldn't want you blaming yourself. You did what you could. You were a friend to her, she knows that. Don't do this to yourself. Come on, baby, don't do this, Carla.”
Cooley looked up at Sahara. “What did you call me?”
Sahara's big brown eyes widened. “I'm sorry, I didn't.”
Cooley put her index finger up to Sahara's soft plump lips. “My name, I never liked when people called me by my real name.” Cooley gazed into Sahara's beautiful eyes. She ran her fingers through Sahara's wavy hair.
Sahara looked at Cooley with a confused glare.
“I liked that.”
Cooley slowly pulled Sahara's face to hers. Their lips gently met. Sahara parted her lips, allowing Cooley's tongue to enter into a passionate dance. Sahara held on to Cooley's T-shirt, wrinkling the fabric with the imprint of her fingers.
Cooley's hand rubbed through Sahara's long hair, letting her fingers roam freely down her scalp. Cooley slowly pulled her face from Sahara's.
“I need you,” Cooley whispered.
Sahara nodded her head.
“Anything, baby. Need me, let me be there for you. Cooley, just let me love you,” Sahara pleaded, her eyes filled with water.
Cooley wiped the first tear to fall down Sahara's face. “Call me Carla.”
26
Denise sat in the hallway. She looked at the row of gorgeous women sitting around her, all holding their portfolios tight. Go-see appointments never seemed so long and boring on
America's Next Top Model
. Denise looked at the women around her. She could see the drive and determination in their eyes, drive that she didn't have.
Denise sighed. Her eyes shifted, catching glimpse of a beautiful chocolate model. The model smiled, Denise smiled back. She had never seen teeth that white or that perfect before in all her life. The model's hair was pulled back in a bun. Denise noticed her striking facial features. Her cheekbones were high and defined, resembling Naomi Campbell in her early days.
“Denise Chambers,” a short woman standing in the doorway called.
Denise took a deep breath and stood up. She walked toward the door.
Someone tugged on her pants. “Good luck in there.”
The chocolate beauty's African accent intrigued Denise. Denise snuck another look at the girl before walking to the back.
Denise wanted to die. She stood in a black floor-length evening gown that was worth more than everything she owned. She tried to focus on not tripping in the stiletto heels they put her in.
Denise tried to stand tall. Her new agent told her the designer was a big deal and personally asked to see her. Deep down she hoped it would be as easy as the Jocku booking, but from the looks of the dresses, she knew she would be a hard sell.
Two double doors opened. Melanie Guston walked in the room. Mariah had schooled Denise on the hot designer. From Mariah's praise she expected a stunning beauty; instead, the woman looked more like Denise than any other person she'd met in the industry. Melanie's hair was braided in three big corn rows to the back. Her blue-and-white Jordan's matched her blue-and-white Jordan jogging suit.
Denise tried not to stare as two women fitted the dress around her. She couldn't believe the same woman in the jogging suits created the dress she had on.
Melanie's eyes shifted to Denise's face. Melanie's eyes widened. She put her hand up to her mouth.
Denise suddenly felt nervous as the woman stared at her with a surprised look on her face.
“Is everything OK?” Denise questioned. She got the funny feeling something was wrong.
Melanie's eyes were glossy. She blinked. Denise didn't know what had happened. It seemed Melanie's body was the room, but her mind was obviously somewhere else.
Melanie turned away. She walked to her desk and sat down.
“So you are Denise.” Melanie's voice was light and airy.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“And your last name is Chambers?” Melanie asked, looking down at a folder.
“Yes.”
Melanie glanced back at Denise. Her face was flushed. Denise didn't know how to respond.
“You have very stunning features, Denise. Good for print, but what about runway?”
“I've never done runway.” Denise cringed at the thought of walking down a catwalk. “I honestly just started modeling. I was really a ball player.” Denise noticed Melanie staring at her again. “I'm sorry, but did you want me to turn another way or something?”
Melanie snapped back to reality. “I'm sorry, you just ... you just are the spitting image of someone I know.”
“Oh.” Denise responded. She hoped her face didn't show the confusion she felt.
Melanie closed the folder. She stood up and walked over to Denise. She began to circle the platform, evaluating every inch of Denise.
“And do you want to do runway?”
“Honestly?”
Melanie's right brow rose. “Yes.”
“No.” Denise looked directly in Melanie's eyes.
Melanie stared back, her lips curved upward. She let out a chuckle. “Well, at least you are honest. You can go change now.”
The two women helped Denise down off the pedestal. Denise flipped the shoes off before heading to change.
Melanie watched as Denise walked away. She motioned to the two women. They exited the room, closing the door behind them.
Denise came out of the dressing room feeling comfortable again.
Melanie was sitting in her chair. She looked up at Denise and motioned for her to come and sit in a black chair next to her desk.
Denise sat down. Her eyes met Melanie's.
“Your eyes ...” Melanie's soft voice was almost a whisper. “Stunning. You get them from your mother.”
“I don't know if I got them from her or not. I never really paid attention.”
“You weren't close with your mother?” Melanie hung on to every word coming from Denise's mouth.
“No, we weren't close at all.”
Melanie's eyes were glossy again. “A shame.”
Denise felt her body tensing up. Nerves were getting the better of her.
“Well, my mother wasn't really around. I was raised by my grandmother.”
“Oh, OK.” Melanie sighed.
Denise felt a hint of sorrow in Melanie's voice. “Well . . .”—Melanie stood up—“You are no model, Ms. Chambers.”
Denise looked up around her. She looked at the door. “I wouldn't say that. I'm just—”
“No, I would.” Melanie lit a Slim cigarette. “You stumbled into this, but you do not want it. You don't like the life of a model. I can tell.”
Denise shifted in her seat. Her Jocku jeans were slightly baggy with her tight-fitting black tee.
“So I guess that's your way of saying you're not interested?”
Denise felt incredibly comfortable next to the designer.
“As a model, no.” Melanie walked away. “But there could be something more. You remind me a lot of myself, Denise, a butch woman in a career not normally suited for her.” Melanie picked up a brown envelope. “But somehow we are making it work.” Melanie walked back to Denise and handed her the envelope. “Be there.”
Denise looked at Melanie with a curious look. “Wait, you are using me?”
“Heavens, no, you are not a model.” Melanie laughed.
Denise didn't know if she was more embarrassed or angry.
“Then what is this?”
“An invitation. Just be there. Now, good-bye, Denise Chambers.” Melanie clapped her hands. Immediately the two fitters walked back into the room.
Confused, Denise walked out the room, envelope in hand.
 
 
Lena knocked on the brown door. Terrin didn't have the sliding door she had, since her loft place didn't take up a whole floor. Lena's hands tingled like she had been sitting on them for hours. She shook them, hoping the sensation would ease.
“I'm coming,” Terrin yelled.
Lena froze. She almost hoped Terrin wasn't home.
Terrin opened the door, causing Lena's eyes to widen at Terrin's muscular arms in her wife-beater. Her stomach had a slight pot belly like a person who overate. Lena found her attractive.
Terrin smiled. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise.”
Lena blushed. “Well, I wanted to say thanks for everything from the other night. I was wondering if you, um, wanted to grab a bite to eat or something.” Lena lowered her eyes, trying to hide her embarrassment.
Terrin's face lit up. She quickly scanned Lena's frame. She couldn't believe how sexy Lena was. Lena's hair hung down on her shoulders. “Are you asking me on a date?”
Lena smirked. “I'm asking if you want to grab a bite to eat.”
“Sure, I'd love to go on a date with you.” Terrin winked. “Let me put on some real clothes.” Terrin opened the door.
Lena walked in. “I think you look OK,” Lena said as Terrin walked off. She knew the look well. Basketball shorts and a wife-beater was her favorite outfit on Denise.
Terrin's shorter frame didn't compare to Denise's, but it didn't matter to Lena. There was something else pulling Lena to her.
“Please don't come out looking all fresh. I didn't get dressed up.” Lena sat on the small brown sofa. She noticed the small DVD collection; they had similar tastes in movies.
“Girl, whatever,” Terrin yelled from the back. “I just gotta keep up with you.”
“I didn't dress up.”
“Yeah, even with your jeans and white tee, you look like you stepped out of a fashion magazine.” Terrin walked out, her basketball shorts replaced with a pair of Ed Hardy jeans with an Ed Hardy graphic tee covered with a diamond skull.
“Wow, you dress fast.” Lena stood up.
“I was actually getting ready to change and go to the club.”
“Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't—”
“Lena, it's cool. It's just the club. Same ole dykes I see all the time. Your offer is much more appealing.”
Terrin's smile sent chills down Lena's spine.
Lena walked closer to Terrin. “So, why don't we just go where you were going.”
Terrin paused. “You want to go to the gay club?”
“Sure, why not? I've been to a gay club before.” Lena thought about her first gay club experience with Denise on New Year's a year back, the first time they almost kissed.
“Well, if you want to, let's do it.”
“Do I need to change?” Lena said, looking down at her fitted seven jeans and white Bebe shirt, what she considered her plain-Jane clothes.
Terrin shook her head. “You look great.”
The small club was packed with wall-to-wall lesbians. Lena held on to Terrin's hand as they walked through the dimly lit nightspot. Club lights flickered and flashed on the small dance floor. The pool table was inhabited with a group of butch women watching two others playing an intense game. The customers were predominately black women, unlike the karaoke bar Terrin took her to before. Lil Wayne's latest hit blared through the speakers as women bumped and grinded on the dance floor.
Lena was surprised by the look. It wasn't like any club in Atlanta. People were dressed down, not that many tight skirts and club outfits she was used to seeing.
“Are you all right?” Terrin looked at Lena with a concerned glare.
“Why do you say that?”
“'Cause you are cutting off my circulation.” Terrin laughed.
Lena realized how tightly she was holding on to Terrin's arm. She quickly let go.
“I'm sorry. I don't know what is wrong with me.”
Terrin took Lena's hands in hers, and their eyes met. “Don't be nervous, I'd never let anything happen to you.”
Terrin's words soothed Lena. She felt her nerves calming down. Lena smiled as Terrin guided her through the club. They walked up to a table with three other women. The women looked at each other with confusion in their eyes.
Terrin shook her head as they made it to the table.
“What's up, y'all? This is Lena. Lena, these are my friends Precious, Angel and Cat.”
Lena shook hands with each woman. She could tell they were sizing her up. Angel and Precious were both femmes, and Cat was the only stud.
“It's nice to meet you, Deena,” Angel said in a nasty/ nice tone. She didn't know what to think of Lena.
“Nice to meet you too, but it's
Lena
.” Lena sized Angel up first. She knew her type well ... cute and was probably used to being the cutest in the group. The emergence of Lena would not work well for her ego.
Lena noticed a silver bracelet on Angel's arm. “That is a nice bracelet. I love that.” Lena smiled.
Angel's face lit up. She loved compliments, especially from women who could take her in the beauty department. It meant they found something good about her.

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