Jaded 2: Broken Love Series (4 page)

The process wasn’t as bad as I thought. Mr. Barish pushed for a thirty-day finalization of my divorce instead of 90, especially since Shane didn’t show in court, and the judge granted his request. I hugged and cried on Mr. Barish’s shoulder outside the court room. In thirty days, I’d be a free woman.

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The drive back to Atlanta was exceptionally quiet for the three of us. We’re always laughing and talking, but our trip home had been filled with emotion. We’d went to see Charity’s father, who owned a car repair shop. Charity shared all of her father’s features, including his butter pecan complexion and fine coiled hair. Charity keeps her hair cut in a short Mohawk-type style. She says she hates her long hair because it makes her look twelve. She also dyes it honey-blonde; she thinks she’s too light for her natural dark brown. She, like myself, is her own worst critic. Charity is beautiful; she has the type of beauty that causes many to stare; large, caramel-colored eyes, round cherub face. She’s another one that people try and figure out what she’s mixed with. However, unlike myself, she is actually of mixed heritage; her father is Portuguese, Irish, and Black. Charity doesn’t speak about her mother at all. I do know she’s black, she’s alive, and lives in Detroit. However, where she lives in Detroit has never been mentioned. If Marcus knows, he’s never said. I know he and Charity went to school together all through high school, but neither Charity nor Marcus ever mention her mom. I hear all types of stories about her dad. Charity and her father walk off into his personal office for a private conversation that immediately changed Charity’s mood. She has yet to reveal what their conversation was about, but she’s been quietly brooding and every so often wiping tears.

Marcus’ parents were our last stop before we headed out. His parents are a very affectionate lovely couple. Marcus is the spitting image of his mother. With all the stereotypes of homosexuality, you’d think Marcus didn’t come from a two-parent home, or that his father detested him—no, quite the opposite. His journey into homosexuality wasn’t the average story you heard either. Marcus wasn’t raped or abused. He didn’t feel as though he was born gay.

It’s funny to visit his home and see pictures of him with his arms wrapped affectionately around his prom date that’s a female, and pictures of him in his football uniform. Marcus says he actually used to date girls exclusively, and he didn’t do it to please his parents. At one time, he was genuinely attracted to women. However, when he started college he fell in love with a man, and though he struggled internally at first, he eventually decided to quit fighting what seemed natural. Since he didn’t feel as though he should straddle the fence, he chose not to live life as bi-sexual. His parents didn’t agree with his change in lifestyle at first. However, they’ve grown to respect and support him. When you see them look at him, they have nothing but love and adoration for their son. Though Marcus is only four years older than me, I truly look up to him. He’s the most well-rounded, well-adjusted person I know, but I finally got to see he has a great foundation.

Brittney’s head has been bobbing up and down in my lap for almost 10 minutes, and I still wasn’t aroused. I have to applaud her for her dedication, because the average female would have given up by now. Brittney was a fine video model, with mocha-colored skin, regal features, a small waist, and a superior ass. Brittney looked as if she was a descendant of African royalty. She and I had been messing around off and on for years, especially whenever I was in LA. She never failed to bring me pleasure. However, she was doing nothing for me tonight. I had grown to crave a sweetie with green eyes and a honey-bronze complexion.

My fingers twitched every time I picked up my phone. My need for L’oriel had grown to monstrous proportions, but my stubborn ass refused to call. Now it’s been over a month, and I’m growing desperate. I’ve never felt this way about a female before. Initially, I figured it was because I wasn’t getting any, so I’d become infatuated with the last girl I smashed. Well, that theory is all fucked up because the girl that was sure to get me off couldn’t even get me up, and I still can’t get L’oriel off my mind.

I drag my hand down my face and tap Brittney on the head. She stops and glances up at me.

“What’s wrong, Troy? You stressed, Baby?” she says after pulling my limp penis from her mouth. She climbs up my body and plops down on the side of me, spreading her toned mocha-colored thighs. I slide my body up the bed and swing my legs off to the side. Resting my elbows on my thighs, I take a look at my wood lying lifelessly. After a beat, I stand and grab my boxers. “Troy?” Brittany questions from the bed. Once in my boxers, I finally turn to give her eye contact. I feel like a bitch because I don’t even have the desire to get ole girl off. I know she wants it; her legs are still spread wide, and I can see her creamy arousal. Her chocolate nipples are peaked in the center of her large globular breasts. However, she’s on her own tonight. I know I’m fucked up because those big titties and all that wet goodness hasn’t even caused a stir in my boxers.

“I can’t do this, Brit.” She gets on her knees and crawls towards the foot of the bed where I’m standing, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You’ll want it after you taste this sweet stuff.” She puts her hand between her thighs and whimpers a moan, sucking air through her teeth and sexily curling her lip.

A few months ago, the sight would have caused me to pounce, but still nothing. Her hooded eyes land on me and she brings her fingers towards my mouth, placing her essence on my lips. I step back, rebuffing my natural instinct to lick my lips, refusing to have any other woman’s nectar besides L’oriel’s in my mouth. I inwardly groan as confusion and hurt from my rejection cross her face.

“What’s up Troy, since when does this happen?” she says, pointing toward my dick that hasn’t even stretched or yawned. I close my eyes, trying to figure out a way to tell her she’s not getting any from me tonight.

I end up forgoing decorum and blurt out, “We ain’t fucking tonight. I’m kind of with somebody.” I grab my clothes and begin to shuck them on. Suddenly, I feel the need to get her out of my condo as quickly as possible. I feel like I’m cheating. Her neck snaps back and the corner of her mouth twitches.

“When has that stopped you before?”

I pull my shirt over my head and pause. She’s right; it never stopped me before, which terrifies me even more. That means I wasn’t as in love with Alexis as I thought. If she had the power to momentarily weaken me, what damage could L’oriel do? That girl had the potential to wreak havoc on my life. Hell, she already had me fucked up.

“Look Brit. I’m sorry I brought you up here. I need to figure my shit out.” I pause, gauging her reaction. I don’t want this situation to turn volatile; some women don’t take rejection too well. When I see she’s not going to start throwing shit, I continue. “I got an early flight to Miami in the morning. I’ll take you back home.” She huffed and climbed out of the bed, and began collecting her clothes.

“Figure your shit out? You damn right you need to figure your shit out,” she continued mumbling curse words to herself while snatching her clothes off the floor and putting them on.

When I return to my condo, I change the sheets, shower, and brush my teeth. I lay across the bed with my cell phone on my stomach. I’m trying to decide what I should say. How do I explain my month-long absence from her life? Or even explain that I want her like I’ve never wanted anybody else?

What I had with Alexis was a partnership. I had control over that. I had control over my feelings. I don’t have the same type of control with L’oriel. I’m so drawn to her. My heart does all this shit I only read about in books and movies. She makes me feel powerless to do anything except love her, and make sure she’s happy. I’m so worried about her being displeased with me for not contacting her. I never cared or thought about how a woman would feel about me not contacting her. It’s hurting me knowing that I’m potentially hurting her. What is this? I want to be mad at her. She lied. She withheld something so important from me, yet I’m powerless to stop caring about her; wondering what she’s doing, what she’s thinking, if she needs anything.

My stomach is actually twisted in knots. I’ve wielded control of my emotions over to a woman that’s married. It just didn’t sit well. I picked up the phone and scrolled my contacts, seeking the advice I should have sought immediately. When the line picks up. I don’t even formally greet him.

“Kev. I need to holler at you, man.” I almost have to laugh at the desperation in my voice. This girl has come into my world and already turned it upside down. I haven’t been successful at cutting off my feelings. I found myself going through my phone laughing at our old text messages, really becoming amused at her excessive use of emojis, then her teasing me for preferring not to use them at all. I told her I’m a grown ass man. I’m not about to put no smiley faces and shit in a text message. Reminiscing and feeling I need to let the shit go is how I ended up calling Brit. I thought I wanted to release my feelings sexually and get lost in her lush curves. However, that had been a disaster. When I dropped Brittney off, she slammed my car door so hard I just knew she broke it. I couldn’t even be mad because I left her horny and frustrated.

Kevin Turner is my pastor and mentor; he always knows how to get me out my own head. Kev was my uncles age; he became my voice of reason when my uncle started acting my age. Once I started really making money and introduced my uncle to the celebrity social circle, he became less of a father figure and more of a friend. Kev understood where I was in my life. He’d grown up with my uncle and tried his hand at street dealing briefly before surrendering to a higher calling.

I had also discovered that L’oriel was a member of Kevin’s church, which I attended as well. Kev never revealed anything to me about L’oriel as he counseled each of us. However, as any man of the cloth, or as a man period, he kept our conversations private and gave advice without giving or hinting at information to the other.

“Troy. What’s going on man?” I can hear the sleep in his voice. I’m suddenly aware of the late hour. It’s nine-thirty here, but well past a decent hour in Atlanta. “My bad, Kev. I hadn’t realized the hour. I can holler at you later.” I hear the rustling of covers.

“Naw. I’m up now. What’s up?”

I tell him about L’oriel, and how I found out about her husband.

~

L’oriel

Charity was my fashion savior. She put me on to a consignment shop that sold high-end labels for a fraction of what you would pay in the store. Thanks to her, I had a Zimmermann purple silk drape skirt with a high waist, a sand-colored side-tie silk top with a plunging neckline, and Victor and Rolf purple open-toe cut out heels. I was literally drooling over this ensemble at Neiman Marcus, but was too cheap to spend over 900 dollars on just one outfit while Charity was making her weekly shopping run with her new boo’s charge account.

After calling me the cheapest person she knew, Charity brought me to her favorite consignment shop. She said it’s where she shops when her relationships end. I literally did a happy dance cabbage patch and all in the middle of the store when I saw the exact same skirt and shoes for less than half the price.

Now I was standing in the mirror in my room feeling incredibly sexy and happy. I still had a sizable amount of money in my savings, and was adding to it. I love Charity, but she’d sacrifice a bill in the name of high-end fashion. I didn’t share that same sentiment. Even purchasing this outfit from the consignment shop was still a splurge, and it would be a while before I indulged again.

However, I was extremely proud of myself and the progress that I was making. I’d registered and started classes. I was going to finish my degree in Communications. Since I loved music but had no desire to be a singer, I always wanted to try to get a job in radio. I’d already been scanning job boards to get a foot in the door. I started Wayne State in Detroit when I graduated from high school, but Shane literally stomped those fires when I was really close to graduating. I was surprised that so many of my credits transferred, and I was actually closer to my degree than I thought.

I’d aced my first tests in all my classes. I’d been promoted to Marcus’ position as team leader. He moved up to the Finance department. He’d finally be able to put his degree to use. Everything was coming up team L’oriel. We all went out and celebrated last night. Now I was preparing to give my praises in church this morning, and look super cute while doing it.

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I was glad Charity saved me a seat. However, I hated when the ushers made us squeeze in because now I had an empty seat next to me. Last week, I had some guy that tried to talk to me the entire service. I could barely keep up and take notes. I was trying to be Christian-like, but he really tried my nerves, especially since his breath was tart. I wouldn’t be able to hold back on someone today. I turned towards Charity.

“If your buddy comes back over here this Sunday, it will take the power of God All Mighty to get my hands from around his neck. I’m not about that mess today. I want to hear the word without his constant interruption.” Charity shook her head and laughed at me; she began to open her mouth to speak when my eyes widened, and the hair on my arms stood up. Charity clamped her mouth shut and stared at me initially with a look of confusion. I felt the buzz of electricity in the air, and smelled his familiar scent. I stayed turned toward Charity as my heart rate rose. I could feel when he took the seat next to me. I was afraid to turn around. Charity’s eyes bounced with amusement as she took note of Troy’s presence. She bumped Marcus’ leg to make him turn to pay attention. He dramatically huffed and turned, probably ready to curse her as best he could in the house of the Lord, particularly because of the way she was nudging him. When he turned and realized what was going on, a smile began to play on his lips.

“Hey Troy, it’s good to see you this morning,” he called out, still amused at my reaction to my love and former lover sitting next to me after all this time. Troy reached over me and shook Marcus’ hand, and gave Charity a playful nudge before he let his hand graze the tops of my knees. I immediately clamped my legs, attempting the stop the throbbing that was going on that shouldn’t have been going on.

The praise team took the stage, and Charity twirled her index finger around in a gesture to tell me to turn around in my seat. I rolled my eyes at her and turned. I knew her and Marcus were really getting a kick out of my reaction to Troy, especially since I opened my big mouth the other night declaring that I was over him as I took shot after shot, claiming team new boo all night. I danced and flirted with random dudes and even accepted a few phone numbers. Gah, he would show up to church today of all days and shoot holes all in my little facade. He knew what he was doing too, stretching out his long legs and ensuring to touch his leg against mines. He broadened his shoulders, holding his hands in a steeple, taking over my arm rest and making sure his solid arm rubbed against mine. I wanted to roll my eyes at him too, but was too afraid to look in his direction. He knew he’d get a reaction out of me. I shook my head and pulled my shoulders back, determined to appear unaffected. Okay Mr. Williamson, you want to play games.

As soon as the praise team begins to sing
In the Sanctuary,
I stand, swaying my hips side to side while clapping my hands. I can feel Troy’s eyes burning into my behind. I was mentally battling between excitement and annoyance. This is the last place we needed to carry on the way we were. I really came for the word today. I didn’t want any sexual tension and mixed emotions getting in the way of me receiving and accepting the message.

It had been almost two months since I’d laid eyes on Troy—well, in the flesh at least. I’d stalked his private Facebook and Instagram page. I found out that he’d been in Los Angeles and Miami. I’d been telling myself that I didn’t care, that I was slowly getting over him just as I’d gotten over Shane. However, in all my so-called getting over, I’d picked up on my drinking. I did well at first, mostly continuing my ritual of having a glass of wine in the tub when I got home as a way to unwind. However, lately my wine has been replaced with vodka. I didn’t think it was that bad until Marcus and Charity brought it to my attention, especially when we went out a couple of weeks ago and they had to carry me in the house. Also, it wasn’t the first time in the last few weeks. This is why church was so important to me today. I feel myself slipping and though I’ve made some steps to take my life in a better direction financially and personally, I’ve somehow lost myself emotionally because of a man. I’ve begun with the Raiel starter pack—drink and when the drinking doesn’t numb you anymore, take up with as many men as possible, hoping they’ll help you forget the one you really want.