Torn Between Two Lovers (11 page)

“You motherfucker! Get out! Just get the hell out my house!” she screeched, collapsing into the chair she'd been sitting in when I first entered the room. As I walked out, I wished like hell I could rewind to that moment and stop her before she even turned on the music. But I hadn't, and as I left her house to be with Loraine, I hoped I'd be able to erase the sound of Celeste's sobbing from my memory.

I stepped out of the tub and wrapped one of the plush Marriott towels around my body. It had been almost an hour since I'd sent Michael a picture of myself naked, and he still hadn't shown up. Both times I tried to call, I was sent to voice mail.

I was starting to think I'd made a huge mistake. Michael was probably laid up somewhere right now with that black Barbie he was feeling all over, and they were laughing their asses off at my expense. With the luck I'd had lately, that picture would be all over the Internet by Monday morning.

Still, I didn't regret sending it. I had to take that chance. No sense in sugarcoating it: I'm a classy woman, but I'm extremely jealous and tremendously territorial when it comes to my men. Seeing that woman all over Michael on the dance floor was the equivalent of torture for me. They might as well have just plucked my eyes out. It's a good thing Leon was there; otherwise I might have ripped that wench's weave right out of her head. I didn't even know anything about her, and I hated that bitch. That was
my
man, and I wasn't about to let her have him without a fight.

I glanced over at the clock radio on the nightstand as I lay down across the bed. It was only 2:15
AM
, so time was still on my side, and I was not about to give up. I had a good four or five hours to accomplish my goals before Leon woke up.

I know this is going to sound terrible, but when Michael and that tramp left the party, I knew I had to do something, and that meant getting rid of Leon. We'd planned to stay overnight at the hotel for a romantic weekend, but I didn't have time to waste with Leon, even if his performance would be quick. Thanks to Dr. Marshall, it wasn't hard to come up with a plan. She'd prescribed sleeping pills a while back, so I just slipped one of those into his drink. It didn't take long for the mixture of Ambien CR and champagne to take effect. Before I knew it, he was complaining about a headache. Being the attentive wife that I am, I suggested we go upstairs.

By the time we got to our room, Leon was ready to fall out. I waited a half hour to make sure he was asleep and then promptly went down to the front desk and rented another room, using the excuse that my husband's snoring was driving me crazy. I'd been waiting for Michael ever since, and the clock was ticking. Leon would be asleep for only so long.

I was just about to ring Michael's phone again when there was a knock on the door. I jumped up, leaving the towel behind to answer it. Seeing Michael through the peephole, I cracked the door open and pulled him inside.

“I missed you, Michael. And I love you so much.”

“I missed you too.” His eyes traveled downward, taking in every inch of my naked body. I took hold of his tie and pulled him into my arms.

From that moment on, there was no more reason for words. We let our actions speak for us, kissing and groping like teenagers as we found our way to the bed. I pulled off Michael's tie and undressed him without ever breaking our kiss; then I lay back on the bed and parted my legs, inviting him to take what he'd been deprived of over the past few months. He wasted no time climbing on top and sliding his penis into me.

I had wave after wave of orgasms, feeling pleasure I hadn't had since our breakup. I'm not sure how long we made love, but it damn sure wasn't the minute or two I'd become used to.

Both Michael and I were still breathing hard, and my body was covered in perspiration. I was lying on top of him with my head on his chest. Overall, I wasn't just happy; I was elated. My toes were still curling from the sensation. More importantly, my love for Michael was renewed. During our lovemaking, I'd had momentary regrets about breaking my vows, but the good so outweighed the bad that I quickly dismissed any thought of the fact that I was married. I had finally gotten my groove back, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like a complete woman. That's why I wasn't really sure why I began to cry uncontrollably.

Michael turned me so that he could see my face. “You okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?”

“No, no, not at all.” I kissed his chest. “I just realized that I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” He kissed me, rolling me onto my back and bringing me to orgasm once again.

 

Three hours later, regrettably, I was getting dressed. Michael was lying on the bed with two pillows propped behind him, watching me as I slipped on my bra and panties. I wanted to just go ahead and slip back into bed with him. Unfortunately, Leon would probably be up in the next hour or so, and I wanted to be in the bed when he woke up.

“So where do we go from here?” Michael asked me as I stepped into my dress. “Are we just going to go back to the way we were, or are you going to leave Leon?”

I felt all of that great after-sex euphoria leave my body, replaced by a cold rush of reality. I spoke firmly and clearly. “I love you, Michael. There is no doubt in my mind about that, but I'm not going to leave my husband for you or anyone else. He's going through a very rough time right now, and I am not the kind of woman who would desert him when he needs me most.”

“But what about me?” Michael countered. “I need you.”

I put up my hand to stop him before he started begging. “If you can't deal with it, then there is no reason to continue this conversation.”

He looked a little taken aback, but I wasn't going to budge. If he didn't understand the rules, this wasn't going to work. And based on the incredible sex we'd just had, I think both of us wanted it to work.

“Looks like I have no choice,” he said with a sigh of resignation. “I gotta deal with it.”

I leaned in and kissed him, then sat on the bed with my back to him. “Zip me up, would you?” As he fastened my dress, I told him, “I'll make at least two days a week for you, I swear.”

“Mmm-hmm.” He kissed my shoulder and then patted my ass as I stood up.

I turned to face him. “Just please don't come to my job or my house.”

“I won't come to your job, okay?”

“Or my house.” I wanted to make sure we were clear.

“Or your house, Loraine.”

“All right, then. So, Thursday is a good day, because that's when Leon goes to therapy. And I can be out all day Sunday, because he's usually out playing golf and he thinks I'm at church all day.”

“What if I want more time with you?” Michael challenged, reaching for my hand and pulling me back toward him. I leaned over and kissed him on the mouth.

“This isn't a negotiation, Michael. If Leon catches us, he
might
kill you, but he'd definitely kill me.”

Michael pouted for a minute while I stood there fidgeting. I needed to end this conversation and get back to my room before Leon woke up, but I could tell Michael was still dissatisfied. I needed us to be on the same page before I could go. If he was unhappy, he might do something rash, like confront Leon and tell him about tonight.

“So, we're okay, right?” I asked cautiously.

“Okay,” Michael relented, and then he blindsided me with a request I never saw coming. “But if you get to be with Leon, do I get to be with Celeste?”

For a second I wanted to slap his ass, but then I realized what he was doing: He was trying to force my hand. He thought that if he made me jealous with Celeste, I would change the rules and leave Leon. I was not about to be played like that. He was going to have to choose. It was either me or her.

“Oh, so you want to be with her? Is that what you wanna do? Well, motherfucker, go be with her ass, then!” I knelt down and peered under the bed. “Where the hell are my shoes? I need to get the fuck away from you.”

“Loraine, calm down.” He jumped off the bed and knelt down beside me. “I was just trying to make a point.”

“Well, that ain't a damn point you wanna make around me.” I stood up and slipped my foot into my shoe.

He placed his hands on my arms to stop my frantic movement, and forced me to look in his eyes. “If I wanted to be with her, I wouldn't be here now. I love you, babe, not her.”

I was so upset I was shaking. “Michael, I need to know I'm going to be the only woman you sleep with.”

“You are. But I need you to understand why I want you all to myself. How am I supposed to know that you're not gonna wake up one day and dump me again? I've got feelings, too, Loraine.”

“I promise that will never happen again.”

“I hope not, because if it does, I'm not going to be responsible for my actions.”

There was a certain edge to his words that I'd never heard before. I knew Michael would never hurt a fly, but there was something about how he spoke that didn't set right with my spirit. I just hoped I never found out what it was.

After my dramatic run-in with Big Poppa, I was feeling much better than I would have expected. I had lived my life in limbo for so long, waiting for him to love me and only me, that now that I'd finally put a stop to it, I was feeling a surprising sense of freedom. Like I had given myself permission to move on with my life.

I was feeling so great that I pushed up the timetable on a project I'd been working on for a while. I had been making some calls on Ron's behalf to see about him playing basketball overseas. Through a friend of a friend, I had managed to get a video of Ron's skills seen by the coach of a team in the Ligue Nationale de Basket, France's equivalent of the NBA. The coach liked what he saw and pretty much told me that a tryout was just a formality. If Ron wanted his career back, it was his for the taking.

I told the coach I would have Ron call and arrange a visit. But now that I was free of my entanglement with Big Poppa, I did something spontaneous: I stopped at a travel agency and bought us first-class tickets to France and three weeks' accommodations at one of the finest hotels in Paris. He could meet with the coach, and then we could spend a few weeks celebrating in high style.

As I pulled up in front of the hotel, I couldn't wait to get inside and tell him the good news. I was hoping that this would make him happy, because that's what having him in my life did for me—Ron made me very happy.

“Welcome back, sir.”

I was greeted by the young man at the reservations desk, but his polite words were not matched by the expression on his face. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but there was a weird vibe coming from him and from the bellhop standing near him. The bellhop turned away as I approached, but not before I caught the smirk on his face.

I had an inkling that I knew what was going on, but I had to test my theory. I held up the bag of Mexican food and said, “Just bringing back food for me and my son.” Ever since we checked in, Ron and I had given everyone the impression that we were father and son. Ron still wasn't ready to leave behind his down-low comfort zone.

The young man's reaction let me know that I was correct; our cover was blown.

“Uh, yeah, about that, sir…”

I placed the food on the counter and looked at him with eyes that dared him to say the wrong thing.

“Well, first I wanna say that you and your friend don't have anything to be ashamed of. I have two brothers who are gay.”

I didn't give a shit about his brothers. I just wanted to know how he knew the truth about me and Ron, because I was pretty damn sure that Ron hadn't been the one to tell him.

When I didn't respond to him, he seemed to get even more nervous. At this point, the bellhop disappeared from behind the desk. He probably didn't want to be anywhere near this conversation, because if this kid said the wrong thing to me, at least one of them was losing his job tonight.

“Yeah, well, anyway…um…I saw your friend coming back in earlier, and I said some things that might have upset him.”

I was still lost. The things this kid said were sending up so many red flags, I didn't even know where to start. “Wait. Did you say he was coming back in? From where?”

“I'm not really sure, but he did ask me earlier for directions to the nearest post office.”

This made no sense at all, but I would ask Ron about that when I got back to the room. In the meantime, I asked the kid, “Okay, so what did you say that upset him?”

“Well, it wasn't really what I said. I showed him this.” He reached under the counter to retrieve a newspaper, and slid it across the counter to me. “I just thought he should know about it.”

I picked up the paper, which was folded open to an article that nearly caused me to shit myself. There was a picture of Ron and me holding hands, along with a blurred version of the explicit photos Peter had taken last year. The headline read:
FALLEN HERO
:
LOCAL BASKETBALL STAR QUITS SCHOOL TO BE WITH OLDER GAY LOVER
.

I threw the paper back on the counter and looked up at the desk clerk, feeling close to tears and wanting answers that no one could give me. I wanted to know why Peter wouldn't leave me the hell alone. I wanted to know why Ron and I couldn't just get on with our lives without all this drama. I wanted to know why the clerk had shown this to Ron when I wasn't there to comfort him.

That's when I realized what all of Ron's calls had been about earlier. He had seen the article and wanted to tell me. And I hadn't been there when he needed me most. Shit.

“I'm really sorry, sir,” the clerk called after me, but I was already running for the elevator.

My stomach was in knots as I slid the card into the slot to unlock our door. The last time Ron had been humiliated by Peter, he nearly broke my jaw. For all I knew, he was waiting to hit me now, but I couldn't stop to worry about that. We were so close to happiness; I just had to fix this situation as quickly as I could.

With my hand on the doorknob, I took a few deep breaths to try to calm myself.
Everything is all right,
I told myself before going in.
We're going to Europe. He's going to play ball, and I'm going to start an import/export business. We will not let this stop us.

I stepped inside the room, which was dimly lit. The bed was unmade but empty. “Ron?” I called to him as I headed to the bathroom, the only other place he could be.

The door was shut. I called his name again but got no answer. “Hey, Ron, look. I know about what you saw in the paper, but it's okay. We're gonna get through this.” There was still no response. “Hey, you. Come on out and talk to me. I have a surprise that will make all of this better.”

When he still wouldn't speak to me, I opened the door and went into the bathroom. What I saw turned my legs to jelly. I feel hard on my knees to the tile floor.

Ron was lying in the tub, his long legs bent into an uncomfortable position. His eyes were open, but heavy-lidded and vacant. A small trail of dried saliva traveled from his mouth down to his chin. His arm was splayed to the side, his hand hanging over the tub, almost like he was directing me to look at what he'd left on the floor. There were two prescription bottles, the medicines he'd been prescribed for his depression and anxiety after quitting basketball. Both bottles were empty.

“Oh, God! No!” I cried out as I crawled across the floor to reach him. “No, no, no, Ron!” I put a hand on his chest. It was motionless and cold. He was gone. “You didn't have to do this. Jesus Christ, you didn't have to do this,” I wailed. “I was gonna take you away from all this.”

I sat slumped on the bathroom floor for a long time, trying to come to terms with reality. Every time I looked at Ron's body, I'd imagine him stepping out of the tub and then the two of us packing our bags and leaving for Europe that night. I replayed happy times with Ron in my mind, and cried until I had no more tears left. Then I just sat and stared silently at Ron's body, not wanting to believe he was gone.

I knew Ron had had his depressed moments, and sure, he'd talked about not wanting to be here anymore, but I thought things were looking up. The last few weeks he'd seemed like his old self. I never dreamed he was capable of taking his own life. But then again, that was before Peter tracked us down again.

“Noooooooo!” The sound came out more like a roar than actual words. If I had never met Peter, this never would have happened to Ron. I was responsible for his death. As I finally pulled myself off the floor to call 911, I wondered how I would ever be able to live with myself.