Tuesday,
July 25th, 2017
7:05 PM
Elijah D.
"Would you like the bruschetta that comes with that?"The waiter asked Zena. "Yes, please. Could I also have extra feta cheese?" The waiter nodded, while jotting down her request, "of course. The food should be out shortly." The waiter retrieved the menu and retreated from the table. Zena picked up her margarita, taking a small sip before placing it back down, on the cloth, "how was work?"
"Long. I've been in meetings, negotiating deals all day. I just want to make sure that my guys get what they deserve. It's their likeliness that makes the big bucks and I want to ensure they're getting a fair cut."
"Are you trying to fill the assistant position for the motion pictures talent department?" I nodded, "it's not something that I'm pressed about at the moment, though. Antoinette isn't set to move up to senior research analyst for another three months. It gives me some time to buy." Zena picked up her fork and drove it into the bowl of the hummus, "does it really, though? You know how you are with interviews. It takes you months to fill positions. I've looked over resumes with you, so, I know some good candidates come to you. I just don't understand why it takes you forever and a day to fill a position."
"It's just that I be needing to feel this feeling. Like, I need to feel like the person before me is going to take care of my company as if it was theirs." Zena pushed the empty bowl forward, "I completely understand where you're coming from. I'm still amazed at how much your company has grown, in such a short amount of time." I couldn't help but to smile, "I am, too! I love this shit, yo."
She extended her arm across the table, inviting my hand into her, in which I compiled, "I can tell. You light up any time you speak about even the smallest thing regarding your company. I'm happy for you baby." I brought our intertwined hands up to my mouth and kissed her soft skin, "thank you. How was your day?" I released her hand, observing her closely, as she took another sip of her drink. "Like yours, busy. Jim wants me to fly out to Boston on Thursday to cover the Red Sox and Braves' game. I'm actually kind of bummed because I wanted to take you to my parents' lake house this weekend, for the festival that comes every summer."
"Don't focus on that, there's plenty of weekends to do whatever it is that you want to do. You just go to Boston and do your thing. I'll be watching." She curled her lips into a seductive smirk, "you like watching me?" I reached for my corona, "I do. I tell you all the time, you're the sexiest when you're in your element." She smiled, "now I have to change the dress I originally picked out to wear." I brung the bottle to my lips, "oh, yeah?"
"Yes. My baby will be watching, I have to turn it up a notch, make you miss me while I'm gone," she winked.
I took a generous swig of the beer, admiring the beauty of the woman before me, before placing the bottle on the decorated coaster, "you look good tonight." The maroon satin dress traced her physique and nestled her closely, pairing well against her complexion. "Thank you," she smiled. I allowed my eyes to roam around my surroundings as they so often do. "Babe, can I ask you about something that's been sort of bothering me these last couple of days," she grasped my attention and her eyes searched mine. "Always. You know that."
"Why do you still have the robe your ex gave you? I mean, it was in the back of your closet, but it was still there, you know?" As much as I would've liked for it to have not to, I knew that the incident would resurface, just like I know that I owe her an explanation. I held my stare upon her, while I let the bitter truth pour from my lips, "because even though we've been living apart for years now, I can't bear to part ways with it. I don't know why, I just can't. What I do know is that I don't want this to be something that you dwell on. She and I are done, with no chance of reconciliation. I'm here with you and I want to be here with you."
A small smile formed on her face, her head nodding with reassurance. My phone rang atop of the table, Stink, appearing across the screen. I grabbed my phone and pushed the chair back from the table, "it's my daughter. I'll be back in a second, yeah?" Zena nodded and grabbed her margarita, while I excused myself from the table. "What's up, stink," I maneuvered to the entry and exit door of the Mediterranean restaurant. "Hey, daddy. What you doing?" I pushed the door open and sauntered into the night air, "having dinner. What are you doing?"
"Nothing." The sadness in her voice didn't go unnoticed. I bent my left leg and planted my foot against the cement of the establishment, leaning against it for support, "why you sound so down?" She sighed deeply, "I miss you. Can I come back?" Nina went back home to New Orleans, after spending two months here with me, in New York. Her departure from me is always the same, tears and pleas to stay just a little longer, and although we've been doing this routine for the last four years, it's never get easier for either one of us.
"I miss you, too. Give me three weeks and I'll come down there for the weekend. How does that sound?" She groaned, "ugh, three weeks is like three years." I chuckled, "you have to work with me, baby. I have some things here that I need to take care of and then I'm coming for you, my baby."
"Okay," she drawled. My heart filled with warmth, knowing that if my baby girl isn't anything else, she's a daddy's girl. "I'll text you when I get home, daddy gotta get his grub on. I love you."
"I love you, too."
I disconnected the line and slid my phone inside of my pocket. I made my way back to the table, seeing the food had arrived, and pulled my chair out to take a seat. Zena looked up from her phone, "we're on The Mix's Instagram page," she handed me her phone.
"What's The Mix?"
"I keep forgetting you're a caveman that's not on or into social media. The Mix is a celebrity entertainment blog, basically all of the latest news and juicy tea on celebs." I looked down at her phone, a photo of us that had to be taken minutes ago appearing.
Sports reporter, Zena Patrick, was spotted locking lips with sports agent, Elijah Davis, as the two entered The Medi, an upscale Mediterranean restaurant in Manhattan. If the both of them are this sexy, we can only imagine how beautiful their babies would be.
I knitted my eyebrows and looked up at Zena, "you saw paparazzi?" She shook her head, "you know they blend in nowadays. What do the comments say?" I looked back down to the phone and read over a few comments.
He looks like he'd ruin my life and I'd let him. That one sent a laugh through the restaurant, lacking any ounce of etiquette.
She fine, he fine, DAMN!
He either has wack head or a small dick, he's too fuckin' fine to have both be good. I broke my attention away from the phone, bringing my gaze to Zena, "why they trying to play me. Picking on me and shit." Zena grabbed the phone from my hands, biting her lip to cease guffaw that threatened to escape her lips. I took the phone out of her hand, "they got me fucked up. How do I tell them to suck my dick?" That sent her spiraling with laughs, that rang through my ears while I continued to read the comments.
If she knows what I know, she'd leave that nigga where he's at. He likes to make babies and leave the mama to raise 'em. Goofy ass nigga.
I furrowed my brows and handed Zena her phone back, "them muthafuckas talking crazy. Talking about I make babies and leave them with the mama. Fuck is they talking about? That's why I don't do that social media bullshit. People can be who they want to be and talk as crazy as they want to talk, because they're hiding behind a screen."
"That's social media for you, babe. Don't let it get to you, they're just trolls."
"It's not getting to me, it's just scary how wild imaginations run on the internet."
———
1:24 AM
I ferociously banged my fist against the locked door, in an attempt to stop the ordeal that was unfolding before. The small area of glass was my only insight as to what was going on, within the four walls. With tears pricking my eyes, I watch Nyla lie helplessly, on what I presumed to be a cold operating table, with her lips quivering and her body trembling. "Mama, you don't have to do this. Open the fucking door," I bellowed, my palm wrecking into the glass, with every ounce of strength I could muster.
The doctor spread Nyla's legs wide, positing himself in between. I dug my fingernails into my scalp, crouching over, grunting with loss of hope. Why can't they hear me? With heavy breathing, my shoulders elevating and descending with rhythm, i cocked my arm back, sending my greatest blows into the glass, repeatedly. The stinging throbs of my bleeding and bruised knuckles were no match to the gut wrenching pain that traveled from the pit of my stomach, to the deepest part of my heart, where my love for Nyla lives.
The doctor grabbed a pair of forceps and my eyes widened, "no, no, no." I shook the door handle with every ounce of strength that I had, panic circulating through every vessel within my body. The door unforgiving, with no trace of mercy. I couldn't hear Nyla but I could read her lips, my name spilling from her mouth, in question of my whereabouts, while tears roamed down her cheeks at an immeasurable pace, mirroring those of my own.
"I'm here, mama, I swear to fucking God, I'm right here." Defeat laced my tone. The nurse stroked Nyla's hair, while the doctor inserted the unswayed and dispassionate instrument inside of her. Her hands clenched the sheet that lie under her and with her mouth dilated, ear piercing screams seep from underneath the door. I fell to my knees and tossed my head back, my heart pounding and my head aching, "I've never asked you for anything. Take it out on me, but please, not my baby, not my fucking woman. I'll lay my life down right here, right now. Just save her. Save them."
The door open, sending my view over my shoulder. "Congratulations, Mr. Davis. It's a baby girl," the doctor turned the baby around. The horrific sight of her missing eyes, disfigured mouth, and underdeveloped nose sent me stumbling back, scurrying into the nearest wall.
I opened my eyes, sweat dripping down my face. At my left, Zena sleep peacefully, her chest rising up and down with each breath that she took. Tossing the cover off of me, I rose to my feet, and ambled to the bathroom. I looked into the mirror, my reflection starting back at, while I recalled the nightmare that I hadn't had in over a year.
---
7:42 PM
Nyla B.
"Let's play twenty-one questions?" I opened the oven and checked the spinach stuffed chicken breast, noting they were close to being done, and closed the oven's door, before turning around to Jaxson with a raised eyebrow, "twenty-one questions?" He shrugged, "I feel that it's only right I get to know the woman who spends three evenings out of the week in my home." I pulled the latex gloves off of my hands and strolled the few steps to the trash can. "Shoot," I tossed the gloves inside of the stainless steel waste bin. "What's a song that'll never get old to you?" I leaned against the counter and crossed my legs at the ankle, "Luther Vandross and Beyoncé's The Closer I Get to You. I've always said if I were to ever get married, that would be the song I'd walk to."
"Hold that thought," he grabbed his phone up from the kitchen island and moments later, my song filled the kitchen, a faint smile spreading across my face. "Next question," he placed his phone back down, "which movie, The Wood or The Best Man?"
"Oh, that's a good one. Two good films with two of my favorite pieces of chocolate eye candy from the late nineties. I don't like having to choose between Omar Epps and Morris Chestnut, but since you're forcing my hand, I'm going to have to go with The Wood." He ran his tongue over his lips, "you like chocolate?" I nodded, "absolutely. Chocolate is beautiful." He smiled, "yes it is." I pulled my eyes from his and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Which dance, the electric slide or the cha-cha?" I threw my head back, my mouth agape as I cackled, "the cha-cha."
"I have to beg to differ with you on that one, babygirl. I hit a clean electric slide every Fourth of July." My grin widened, "is this common knowledge or something only you believe?" He chuckled, "all of the above. Would you rather not be able to hear or not be able to see?" I folded my arms over my chest, "not be able to hear. I couldn't imagine not seeing my baby's face when she wakes up in the morning and when she goes to bed at night."
"How old is your daughter?" I pushed myself off of the counter and turned around to the pan of roasted garlic potatoes and onions, grabbing the wooden sauté paddle to give them a stir, "she just turned three a few weeks ago. Do you have any," I sat the paddle down and turned back around to face him. He shook his head, "I have six nieces and four nephews spread evenly amongst my five siblings. It's just me and Cujo for now," he reached down and ruffled the fur of the shitzu. I chuckled, "why in the world is that sweet dog named Cujo?"
"Don't let the size fool you, he's no punk. I had to keep him from going to a pit bulls ass the other day. I mean, he was clawing at my leg so I could pick him up once he'd saw the pit bull, but that's only because he was pissed and he knows that when he gets like that, he can do some real damage. Ain't that right, Cujo?" Cujo turned his head away from Jaxson and plopped down on his stomach, swiping his pink tongue back and forth against his paw.
I chuckled, "I believe that's his way of telling you to leave him out of your bullshit." I grabbed the oven mitts from the counter and retrieved the baking sheet from the oven, admiring my creation and how beautiful the glazed chicken breast looked. I looked over my shoulder to Jaxson, "I really did my big one with this." He stood from the barstool and sauntered in my direction, "you've did your big on with everything you've made for me. I may have to up your pay, three days isn't enough."
He gripped the edge of the counter and caged me within his arms, leaving a respectable amount of space between us while being close enough for me to inhale the scent of musk mixed with the fresh smell of soap, "let me taste some." I grabbed the fork from counter the counter and pulled a knife from the sleek black holster. I cut off a piece of chicken breast and handed him the fork. He took the bite into his mouth and closed his eyes while chewing, "you the truth, baby girl. One more piece." I was just about to cut him another slice, when my phone vibrated on the countertop.
"May I?" I asked.
"What did I tell you about making this so work-like. You're a grown woman, you don't have to ask for permission to answer your phone." I nodded and grabbed my phone, answering Kia's call while in route to balcony. "Hello," I slid the door open and shut it behind me. "Use my information for insta and go to The Mix's page." I leaned over the balcony, glaring over the pedestrians that occupied the sidewalk, "just tell me what's up. I'm working right now."
"Call me when you get home then. I don't want you distracted while you're working." I absolutely loathe when someone has to tell me something and then expects for me to wait. It's nerve wrecking and I'd consider it to be more of a distraction than the distraction itself. "You know I hate that shit, Kia. Just tell me."
"They have a picture of Elijah and some sports reporter bitch on there. They were kissing, Nyla." My heart sunk. With a lump caught in my throat, I cleared my airway, "yeah?" I pinched the bridge of my nose, but my tears were too strong to contain. I've gotten so much better at being okay without Elijah, but deep down inside, there's a part of me that I feel will always be hopeful of a second chance with him. Even after all that transpired, for I'm still in love with him.
"Is she pretty?" All types of insecurity rushed through my body, along with an endless amount of questions. Does he love her? Is he making her just as happy as he made me? Does he ever even think about me? I felt sickness brewing inside of my guts, threatening to boil over. "Do you want the truth or a lie," Kia asked. I sniffled and quickly wiped the tears away from my face, pulling myself together. I have a job to do and this job guarantees food on the table a roof over our heads. I can't let this news get in the way of that. "I'll call you back, Kia."
"Wait! There's something e-" I disconnected the line and placed my phone in my back pocket. I slid the door open and walked through the individual vertical blinds. After closing the door, I made my way to the open layout of the kitchen and positioned myself in front of the sink to clean the minor dishes that weren't tended to while cooking. "This shit is the bomb, Nyla. For real." I kept my attention on the dishes and nodded my head. I could hear the plate clash against the countertop as Jaxson sat it down and moments later, his hand was gently rubbing my arm, "hey? Everything good?"
No sooner than he'd asked, I hung my head and unleashed the wrath of liquid drops, "I'm sorry. This won't happen again, I can assure you." Jaxson whisked me around and pulled me into him, "hey, hey, hey. Whatever it is, it's okay and if it's not, I can promise you it's going to be okay." I shut my eyes tightly and wrapped my arms around his back, biting down on my lip, as hard as I could, to stifle further sobs. He ran his hand down the back of my hair, slightly rocking us in motion, "you're good. I promise, you're good."