Love UnCharted (Love's Improbable Possibility) (33 page)

As we approach his friends, just about all the men in V.I.P. rise to greet Azmir. He quickly daps all of them before announcing to Petey that we were leaving. I was reading Petey’s expressions and could tell he asked Azmir if was everything okay. I guess me staying at bay didn’t help. I stood near the velvet rope. I know I had washed up, but I would die of horror if anyone had an inkling of what just took place upstairs in Azmir's office. I knew by me standing there like that made me look awkward, but I didn’t want to risk anything. Besides, Azmir made it clear that we weren’t staying and that was final. I
waved goodbye to everyone and realized the ladies were too preoccupied with the show to care. We left Cobalt under our own agenda.

Hours later, back at the high-rise, Azmir and I are laid out in front of the fireplace wrapped in sheets after hours of lovemaking. I’m in euphoria after the expressions of love we’ve just exchanged. We’re talking and laughing, which is what I appreciate about our chemistry. Azmir and I laugh together. We talk about varying topics such as politics and pop culture. I guess anything is easier than discussing our pasts.
 

“Nah. My jokes are Kevin Hart type funny and yours are like...Tommy Davidson!” Azmir noted, mildly laughing.

I gasp with furrowed brows. “And what’s the difference between the two?”

“Hart is
pee your pants
funny and Davidson is just silly...
desperate for a laugh
funny,” he informs and we both laugh. 

I’m on my back wrapped in expensive Egyptian cotton sheets that feels delightful against my skin. The fire is burning calmly and it creates a romantic glow in the room.

“I’m thirsty. You want something to drink...wine...brandy?” Azmir offers as he wraps his waist in sheets, to my dismay, and heads into the kitchen.

“Juice will be fine. I’m thirsty myself. You’ve had me perspiring since we walked through the door! I need to rehydrate. I think the nightcap should’ve come before the smashing,” I playfully chastised.
 

With his eyebrows narrowed and eyes squinted he quips, “I’m sorry. I didn’t get the impression I was imposing.” Then he takes a few moments to consider what I’ve said before admitting, “Okay, so maybe you didn’t have a choice in the matter,” with a bashful smirk.

Azmir comes back with tall glasses of juice for the both of us and hands me mine.

“In all seriousness, are you okay with my moms staying at your place?” Azmir asks. Yazmine has been at my place since the day after the Brian Thompson fiasco. I didn’t fight with him as he made the call after leaving the debriefing with
Bacote & Taylor Public Relations Team
. I knew better than to fight with him.

“Oh, yeah. At least the place isn’t there just decaying. I mean, that week or so that I was there was rough for the first few days. I tried to make myself comfortable, but there was still no life there. I think it’s a great idea. She seems to be comfortable. I saw she’s put up photos on the walls in the living room already.”

“She just came off a twenty-plus stint and it’s like she was in a time warp. The décor in there is so Brooklyn 1970s,” Azmir says ruefully. I couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Well if she wants, I can get her a new mattress. It’s weird having her on the same one I’ve smashed her beloved son on,” I said in jest as Azmir’s phone goes off. This time it’s his iPhone. As soon as he answers it, his Blackberry goes off. Because it’s so late, I wonder who’s calling.

“Peace-peace,” he greets in his thick Brooklyn accent. It always amazes me how thick that New York twang was in so many of his pronunciations considering he’s lived in Chicago and L.A. since there. I was actually turned on by it. Even Jersey girls can’t get enough of New York men.

“Where?” Azmir roars into the phone as he gathers his sheet around his naked waist again and goes into his study in search of something. I sit up alarmed. Here we go again. I’d just forgotten about the mean and cold Azmir that I’d gotten a glimpse of in Cobalt earlier, now he’s returned.

He comes back into the living room with his laptop. “What’s the address again?” he growls into the phone. Then he types on the keyboard. After a few seconds, he says, “Yes, she’s here. Let me holla at her and get back to you. Yeah.” He hits a button before tossing the phone to the other side of the sofa.

I sit on the floor in front of the fire, in silence as he views whatever’s on the laptop. I think I hear Caribbean music, but why would he be listening to anything related to that? It ends and he places the laptop on the glass coffee table and snaps, “What the fuck is this, Rayna?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Rayna

Flushed with bemusement, I look at him and immediately to the computer screen as a video plays. It’s a low quality recording, clearly from a mobile phone that shows a woman giving a man—apparently very dark skinned man, judging by the shade of his penis—fellatio. You couldn’t get a full view of the female, but there were footage of the male who spoke with a thick Caribbean accent. The videographer was a female and rooted the fellatio-giver on.

Then...
what the fuck!
Is that Michelle in the background, periodically licking the man’s balls and the base of his penis.
She appeared to be drunk and silly. She was cheering the female on as well. It hit me like a ton of bricks:
the other girls were Britni and April!
I could make out Britni’s voice, pumping them up. Yup! That was definitely Britni, which could only mean that the woman going down on the guy was April. Again, you see Michelle dip in to pleasure the man with licks and groping. Tears began to flood my eyes.

“Where did you get this?” I asked, aghast.
 

“It’s all over the fucking Internet. This shit has gone viral!” Azmir shouted.

I mumble, “Oh, my god, Michelle.” Bile rise from my belly as a gag; I then quickly cupped my mouth. After managing it back down my esophagus, I tried to regain my breath. The tears began to drop uncontrollably.

“Was this what you guys did in The Bahamas before I got there?” he hissed.

My eyes flew up at him as he was hovering over me. I realize he thinks I was there with them. 

“Azmir,” I said unable to hide my defensiveness. “You don’t think that was me recording my best friend degrading herself do you?”

He gave me a callous glower.

Wait a minute. Oh, no!

“You think it was
me
giving another man head on the vacation
you’d
paid for?” I theorized slowly.

His eyes softened, but not by much. Azmir maintained his daggered gawk.

“Azmir, I swear on everything I have, I was not there when this was shot. I didn’t even know this tape existed until a few seconds ago,” I said in all candor.

“Lady Spin released it earlier on the radio show she webcasts. She’s saying it’s a tape of Divine’s girl, giving a native head on the vacation he paid for her and her girls,” he quoted with still a hint of accusation in his tone.

“Azmir, I didn’t hang out with them the whole time out there. I told you before that trip that those bitches were not my friends,” I spewed, trying to prove to him that I was telling the truth. “If you recall, when you showed up, I was alone. They had gone out earlier that night and I stayed behind!” I exclaimed.

“Well, why the fucking tears when you were watching the tape?” he barked.

“Because I see my
dead
best friend giving head to a stranger in her wake! Can you imagine how fucked up this is?” I screamed while balling my eyes out. 

He stormed his way towards the bedroom. I collapsed into the couch, crying uncontrollably. Seconds later, I heard Azmir tread into his office.

My heart shattered in a million pieces. I can’t believe people are viewing my dear friend this way.
How many people have watched it? Has it hit her family? Does Erin know about it?
So many questions flooded my mind. Images of her from that tape wrung my heart dry.
Why would Lady Spin release such damaging footage? Is she that bruised over Azmir? Did she have to drag me into it?
She had to have gotten the tape from Britni who knew damn well I wasn’t there.
I knew I was going to have to put that bitch over my knee!

Lord, I know I've been working on my temper and language, but there are just some trifling ass people who will bring you back!
 

After I exhausted all of my thoughts, I saw that it was after two in the morning. Azmir was still hauled up in his office. I was too emotional to face him. I showered and cried some more in there, allowing the water to cascade over my tears. I began to think about how Azmir all but accused me of being the woman in the video.
Does he think that little of me?
I tried to convince him that it wasn’t me.
I won’t again.
He’ll have up take me at my word or not at all. 

That night I decided to sleep in one of the guest bedrooms. There was no way that I would sleep in the bed of a man who believes of me to be a harlot. Azna followed me, trotting down the hall to the second guestroom.

This room was dark and modernized with smooth brown walls and mahogany hardwood floors. The king sized bed was mounted on an ivory platform with a high headboard and was covered with a chocolate brown text-tiled quilted comforter that resembled small concrete blocks trimly stacked on top of each other. There was an off white chaise placed catty-cornered in the corner of the room with brown and ivory throw pillows neatly placed on it. Over the bed, a dark brown jeweled chandelier hung. The poster sized artwork displayed on the wall appropriately blended with the jazzy motif of the room and the flat screen television mounted to the wall added practicability to the room.

Although I knew he’d hired an interior decorator for this place, it once again reminded me of Azmir’s impeccable taste. He approved and even designed much of the swanky and prodigiousness. This man’s genius and creativity knew no bounds. As I lay on the firm mattress, I realized how luxurious it was, like the one in the master suite. But nothing compared to that one because that’s where Azmir lays his head at night and the linens smelled of him. No one has ever slept in this bed not even Mr. Jacobs himself. My thoughts went blue again and I fought them off to finally sleep.

I’m sitting down in an outdoor dining area at an amusement park. I look across to find Michelle looking her usual preoccupied yet beautiful self. I don’t know what we were chatting about, but she was assuring me that everything would be okay. 

“Na-Na, you know everything is going to work out in your favor at the end, right?” she says with a huge smile while eating her frozen yogurt. “You just have to be patient and wait for things to fall into place. You worry too much about what you have very little control over,” Michelle declares as she takes a heartfelt laugh at my expense.

The sky is the perfect shade of blue, as the sun doesn’t give too brutal of a shine. Kids are carelessly playing in the background, wondrously taking in all the youthful spectacles of the park.

“I gotta go now,” she says so casually.

I’m unable to speak in this dream. I can only listen. But I am visibly upset at the announcement of her departure. She takes notice and cheerfully says, “Na-Na, you’ll be fine. Girl, you know I’ll see you later! I just have to send the letter off before the post office closes.” Her smile is warm.

While her reassurance is intended to calm me, it has the opposite effect. I start to tremor in agitation to my muteness. There’s so much I want to tell her and ask her, too. She packs up her things to
go and shakes her head in confusion as if I had been overreacting. She stands to leave and I watch her throw her trash in the can and walk away. I get up to try to run to her, but no matter how fast I run I can’t catch up to her. She never looks back. I try calling her, but nothing comes out. I run and run and run for Michelle, but never get to her.

I’m awakened from the dream. I looked around the room and took inventory to recall where I was. I then realize I’m not in bed alone. The fragrance smelled familiar. I looked over to find Azmir stretched out over me, sleeping quietly.
How long has he been here?
I looked over to the nightstand at the digital clock that read 9:03 a.m.

I jumped up to get out of the bed. I had hoped I wouldn’t be late.

Azmir stirred, trying to collect himself. “What’s the problem? Where are you going?” From my peripheral he looked a little dazed and confused. I was surprised he’d slept so late. His body is on a timer. I guess he stayed up much later than did I last night. 

“Where else would I be headed at this hour on a Sunday?” I asked wryly as I stepped
 into my slippers. I hadn’t forgotten his nasty accusations from last night. He gave an affronted reaction. I walked out of the room to head to the shower.

I’m checking myself out in the full body mirror in the walk-in closet of the master suite. I have to be sure I’m not revealing too much for church. It’s not about what others may perceive of me so much as it is what I’m putting out. I don’t need to stick out in church in terms of appearance. My mother constantly pounded that into my head as a child. As I headed for the door, I saw Azmir coming in from walking Azna. He closely observes me with a flexing jaw, but I ignore him and give Azna a playful massage before walking out the door.