by S. K. Lessly
“Paul, it’s nice to meet you.” I smiled at him. “Thank you for stopping to help me.” I waved at him like an idiot.
He chuckled. “No problem…uhhh…” he began and then paused as if he were waiting for something. I looked at him, confused, until it dawned on me what he was waiting for.
“Oh, shit. Sorry. It's Lauren. My name is Lauren.”
He squinted his eyes at me for a long moment and then shifted his gaze to my car before returning his eyes back to me. He smiled at me, except the smile he gave me wasn’t as bright as it had been before. I wondered what had just happened.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Lauren.” Paul gave me another chin lift and started to walk backwards away from me. “And I’m glad I happened to come by and could help.” Paul gave me another once over before he turned and without another word, walked away.
I stared at him as he walked away with a confused look of my own. I wasn’t sure what had just happened. There was something in his eyes that changed after I gave him my name. Maybe he knew a Lauren in his past or something he didn’t like. Who knew? I shrugged off the peculiar situation and watched Paul’s large frame as he continued down the street. I shook my head and blew out a breath as his handsome face, panty-dropping smile, and killer body came back to mind.
Good God! Whoever gets to wake up to that man every morning is blessed and highly favored.
I smiled to myself at my thoughts and headed to my car. There was something about that man that had me almost wishing I was single. Not only was he fine as hell, but he seemed like a very nice guy like he would give his last to you if you needed it. Typically, I didn’t lose it over white chocolate. I preferred my chocolate dark or close to it. But I had to give it to Paul. There was something about him that made my girlie parts take notice.
Anyway, with my car now road worthy, I put my unclean thoughts away and got into my vehicle. I glanced down at my phone and saw Sebastian did finally call me back. I picked up the phone to return his call and my phone cut off in mid-dial. I sighed. What am I going to occupy my time thinking about on my long journey home? I smiled to myself as an image of a certain someone with dimples popped into my head. I pulled out of my parking space and headed out of West Orange.
Okay, I feel as though an explanation of my thoughts are in order. Let me premise by saying that I’m a happily married woman, married to a great guy. It was just that as I said, sometimes when someone of the opposite sex, who makes your mouth water and lady parts whimper, crosses your path, you have to give credit where credit is due. And Dimples definitely deserved the credit I was giving him. Have mercy!
2
Lauren
As I made my way to the Garden State Parkway, which would take me back to my side of town, the weight of tonight began to sink in. If Paul hadn’t walked by when he did, willing to help me, more than likely, I would've had to pay an arm and a foot to Uber home.
I couldn’t believe those guys walked past me without offering to help or check if I was okay. I knew I could be a bitch sometimes. However, I never expected my winning personality would cause three guys to walk right past me knowing I needed help.
They had no problem trying to chat me up in the club despite the ring on my finger. Since I had turned them down, I guess they thought they would get even. Why are men such assholes?
I was so sick of the imbeciles I came across. On second thought, I was glad I wasn’t single. If I was, I’d probably end up alone and it would have everything to do my smart-ass mouth and witty personality than anything else.
Let me introduce myself. As I mentioned before, my name is Lauren, Lauren Maxwell. I stood about 5'6" with skin similar to the color of cinnamon, eyes the color of honey, and thick, long hair the color of molasses. I have beautiful curves, a hardy dose of street smarts as well as book smarts mixed with a mouth that could bring a man to his knees or force him to kill himself or me. In any case, I would consider myself one and a million, a diamond in the rough; a complete catch for some men. And others well… I had ways about me that repelled some people. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t as crazy as you might be thinking. I considered myself as an acquired taste, that’s all, complex, misunderstood.
For example, I considered myself a girly girl. I loved getting dressed up with makeup, jewelry, stilettos, the works. However, give me a pair shorts or sweatpants, a fitted tee, and sneakers any day, and I would be good too. I loved it when a man brought me flowers and showered me with attention, except that attention had to be on my terms. I hated when a man smothered me. Give me space, you know? Making me feel claustrophobic was the worst anyone could do. I hated when a man spoke for me. God blessed me with a mouth and I definitely knew how to use it. I couldn’t be handled, not by anyone.
I loved it when a good book or movie brought me to tears. At the same time, I loved a good action movie with lots of violence and gore for those days I felt pent-up frustration and no one to unleash on.
As with most people, I had pet peeves that grated my nerves. I couldn’t stand arrogant, self-centered people; men in particular. And I couldn’t stand prissy-ass women or men, especially the ones that claimed they were hardcore but clearly were not. Growing up, most of my friends were guys. Some of the girls from my neighborhood and school couldn’t relate to me. I had no time for the petty things they dealt with. Also, I had nothing in common with them. When they were out hanging at the mall on the weekend, I was sitting in front of the television watching my favorite pastime… football; American football to be exact.
God, I loved the sport. I loved the violence, the competitiveness, and the athleticism. My obsession with football was the one thing my husband of four years couldn’t stand about me. The unwavering devotion to something other than him bothered him, but he had learned to live with it. Hell, he had no other choice.
I originally hailed from the beautiful city of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, West Philly to be exact. Despite my family’s misgivings, I’d managed to graduate high school in the allotted time required. I had attended the University of Pennsylvania, UPENN, right after high school, which was my parents' alma mater. I graduated on time and with honors and then decided to get my master’s degree from the same school. After that, I landed a job teaching English 101 at Drexel University right after graduation, thanks to connections from one of my graduate profs.
I wanted to get my feet wet teaching on a collegiate level and Drexel was a great place for me to start. I taught English classes three times a day on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, which worked for me. I really enjoyed teaching, providing my wittiness and clever banter to the young people of this world. I could even see myself earning tenure with Drexel. However, all that went out the window when my husband was offered the dream job of his life in New York.
Sebastian Maxwell was a consultant for a large Consulting firm in Philly and was making excellent money. He was very successful and made his clients huge amounts of money with minimal effort. Sebastian was a genius when it came to solving a company's inefficiencies, or so he’d told me. In my opinion, he was a glorified fixer or a mechanic, if you will. If a company had an issue, whatever it may be, Sebastian would swoop in and fix everything.
There was this one CEO he worked for who had announced he was moving his business to New York and wanted Sebastian to relocate to the city with him. The CEO promised he’d get Sebastian a job working with one of the top consulting firms in the city making way more money than he was making now. Initially, Sebastian had declined his client’s offer to relocate. Philly was his home too. It would take a lot for him to uproot his life from a place he called home all his life. I supported him in his decision because I didn’t want to leave either, but I would if he thought it would help his career.
About a week later, the CEO had the president of the consulting firm in New York call Sebastian, offering a job, relocation stipend, and an increase in pay that made Sebastian hyperventilate. Needless to say, Sebastian changed his tune and accepted the offer. I was pro
ud of him and couldn’t wait to start a new chapter in our lives.
Unfortunately, for me, I couldn’t just up and leave Philly when he did. I had to wait until school let out for the year. Then I got asked to work the summer school circuit. So, I stayed in Philly through the summer until a month before the fall semester started.
Sebastian lived in New York for a while and actually wanted to stay there permanently. I talked him out of it. I didn’t want to live in the city. I wanted the home life we’d been accustomed to growing up. I wanted the fenced-in yard, the feel of family life, and freaking trees. It didn’t take long for him to be convinced and a couple of weeks before summer school session ended for me, he had found us a place to live in New Jersey.
The house was located in Belleville, NJ a favorable location for the both of us. The house was conveniently close to a train station that serviced a line right into Penn Station in Manhattan, which worked out for him. It also gave me the type of lifestyle I wanted; quiet and homey.
During the summer, I had submitted a few applications to some of the colleges in Jersey and New York. I’d lucked up and managed to land a job teaching a few classes at Bloomfield College, which was one of the colleges that was close to me. See how God works?
Anyway, I had hopes of getting into a larger college like Montclair State or Rutgers University in New Brunswick, NJ, after a few years. Why not Princeton? Well, I wasn’t the Princeton type. Besides, I would probably corrupt all of my students into being bad, which would probably get me fired. So, I’d decided to just stick to what I was familiar with: regular people.
When I finally walked inside my house, it was quiet. My house wasn’t very big, but it was good enough for the two of us. It was a two-story home that was built in the 1990’s. It had been remodeled since then, but I believed the house still needed some work.
The living room was the first room you came to when you entered into the house. The room was a decent size with a nice brick fireplace for those cold, frosty nights. What I didn’t like was the awful beige carpet on the floor in the living room and the dining room, which was the next room you came to as you headed to an awkward-functioning kitchen. The kitchen was shaped like a small box with the sink and oven facing the front of the house and a huge fridge that blocked the basement door. I felt that if we knocked out the wall of the kitchen, facing the front of the house, moved the sink and oven to another wall—preferably adjacent to where it was now—then that would open the space tremendously. Renovations were definitely on my to-do list to make this house a home. I just had to sweet talk my hubby into making it happen.
There were three bedrooms upstairs and we’d turned one of the rooms into an office. I found my beloved hubby upstairs in the office sitting in front of his laptop. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his cheek.
“Hey. There you are." He patted my arm without removing his eyes from the computer screen. “Sorry I missed your call. I was working and didn’t hear the phone. I tried to call you back. Are you okay?”
I sighed heavily.
This was one of the things I hated about Sebastian’s job. He worked crazy hours and traveled all the time. We hardly spent time together since I’d started calling NJ home and we hadn’t been on a vacation together in a very long time. My husband had the tendency to entertain everyone around him like friends, family, co-workers, neighbors and clients, but he rarely found time for me. I’d gotten used to it, though. I knew he loved me and when we did spend time together, we had a great time. The issue now was that word “did.” It was past tense, yesterday’s news, and I was trying to be understanding and reasonable about it. The problem was I missed my husband, my best friend, and Sebastian was freaking clueless.
“My phone died,” I replied after a beat of silence. “And I didn’t bring my charger with me. Nothing to worry about, though. I just had a flat.” I found a seat across from him and watched him hit the keys hard, researching God only knew what. Some of his clients asked for some outrageous things and he always found a way to deliver.
“Ahh shit. For real? Did you call AAA?” he asked, his voice almost concerning—almost.
I didn’t respond to him right away. I just watched him in fascination at how he could completely ignore me even though he was speaking to me. But at the end of the day, I loved him. I also talked a good game, but wild horses couldn't drag me away from my man.
Sebastian was a good-looking guy with smooth caramel skin, big brown eyes, and a great smile. He wore a small amount of facial hair and he kept his hair cut low to his scalp. His body was sculpted like an athlete’s, weighing about 185 pounds and stood about 5’11”.
The man stayed in expensive suits during the week and khakis and a button up or polo shirt on the weekend. Very rarely did he put on a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, or sneakers unless he was going to the gym. And he wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of jeans. Despite how stuffy he dressed, Sebastian had a great sense of humor and a loving and caring heart, which was why I loved him so and could ignore it when he ignored me; only sometimes, though.
“I did call AAA,” I answered finally.
“You did?”
“Yup, and when they finally came, the guy groped me outside my car,” I added jokingly just to see if he was listening.
“Huh, that’s crazy,” was all he said, which proved to me he wasn’t listening at all. So, in light of that, I decided to take the story a little further; you know for shits and giggles.
“Yeah,” I added nonchalantly. “And then he threw me up against the car and started kissing my neck.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And do you know what else he did?” I leaned in closer and watched him concentrating on the computer screen.
“No. What else?”
“He fucked me in the ass right outside the club for all to see. I think someone recorded it, so you might see it on Facebook.”
“Oh, wow, that’s fascinating,” he replied and I stared at him until finally he looked over at me. “Wait. What the hell did you just say?”
I laughed. “I was wondering when you were going to notice me.”
He turned around to face me and put his hand on my knee. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He smiled. “I’m all ears. But don’t you ever joke like that again. Fucked in the ass, really? I know that isn’t true. You won’t let me touch your ass.”
I rubbed his face. “Yes, and if you continue to ignore me, you won’t even see this ass tonight.” I got up and walked past him, swaying my hips.
He smiled and reached for my hand to stop me from leaving. “Uh-huh, I definitely want to see that ass and more, but ahhh, I just have to finish this one thing and I promise I’ll be right in.”
My smile instantly dropped at his words. For the past few weeks he’d been feeding me that line every night, and every night I ended up falling asleep alone. I turned around and looked at him. I didn’t say any of the things I wanted to say. I just walked up to him and touched his cheek. I even gave him a smile. It was weak, but I still plastered one on my tired face anyway.
“Okay, well, don’t be too long,” I said quietly.
He kissed my palm. “I won’t, sweetheart. I love you.”
“I know you do.”
And as I expected, when I rose to get ready for church the next morning, Sebastian wasn’t lying next to me.
3
Lauren
It was two-thirty in the afternoon, two weeks later from the flat tire incident, and I had just gotten back from church to find my husband waiting for me in the dining room. He glared at me hard, something in his eyes, dissatisfaction. Who knew? I ignored him, though and ran upstairs to get ready for the first football game of the season. I pulled out my green and white, number 92, Reggie White throwback jersey and threw it on along with a pair of capris. I pulled my hair up into a high ponytail and took in my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I smiled as my adrenaline started to spike. It was football season, baby! At first, I started to hum the Eagles’ fight song, but
then I began singing
Hit’em low!
Hit’em high
And watch our Eagles fly!
Fly, Eagles fly!
On the road to victory! E-A-G-L-E-S!
Eagles!
Yes, that’s right. I was one of those unique and charismatic Eagles fans. I’d been a fan all my life thanks to my father and brothers. However, I only started paying attention to the team when I was a teenager. Donovan McNabb had been the quarterback during my teenage years, so you could imagine the pain of never winning the big one that I had to endure for years. We did come close a few times, but we always came up short.
As I said, I was a huge football fan. The moment the NFL football season came around, I could be found in front of the television all day Sunday. My husband didn’t understand my healthy obsession. He wasn’t a fan of any sport actually, which called into question our union under God. You would think I would’ve married someone into sports. It didn’t work out that way. Sebastian was such a charmer in college when we met. He wooed me and showered me with so much attention and love that I couldn’t resist him.
Over the years, he had learned to tolerate my first love and I’d learned to tolerate his disdain for sports. For a long time, we had a mutual agreement when it came to my pastime. He would let me do me during football season for the most part anyway, and I would try to act like a lady when I was watching the games. Ironically, his request was warranted. Let me just say that if you could see how I acted or heard some of the things that came out of my mouth during the game, you’d be shocked. Or maybe you wouldn’t be shocked. After all, I was a Philly fan. There were certain criteria that came with that title and obnoxious behavior was one of them.
But recently, I felt things shifting between my husband and me. He was changing from that sweet and understanding husband that I loved to something else entirely when it came to my pastime.