by BWWM Club
“Jamal, I thought I told you to go home.”
“I wasn’t going to leave you. I’m sorry, Mama. I was just trying to help. We didn’t know how to help.”
She opened the driver’s side door and laid a hand the top of the car. “Cornering me at your father’s grave wasn’t the right place to do that.” She sniffled.
“I know.” He ran his hands over his short, cropped hair. When the sun hit it just right, it shined copper—like his eyes. “I know.”
She grabbed his hand, meeting his eyes directly. “Baby, I’m always here if you want to talk to me. I know I seem to wallow in my pain, but I’m here for you boys. You can talk to me.”
“You still don’t get it. Mama, we are here for you too. We want you to talk to us. We don’t want you to wallow in pain. We love you. We want more for you. It’s why we thought of New Orleans. There’s this amazing apartment in the French Quarter you’d love. It’s your style. We would be close by. I just… I really think we all need this.”
“Jamal,” she whispered on an emotional breath, yanking him in for a hug. “I concentrated so much on making sure you guys grew up that I never stopped to think that maybe you already were. I do need to talk. I want to talk to you both though. I don’t want to repeat myself.”
“You aren’t mad?”
“Oh, I’m pissed at how you and your brother handled this. Don’t think you aren’t old enough to get your ass whooped with a switch from outside.” She grinned, and he tossed his head back and laughed.
“Man, those damn things hurt.”
“You better watch your mouth. Respect the dead.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She rolled her eyes as she got into her car. Ginger glanced in the rearview, watching Jamal get into his car and eyeing the stone that held Kendrick’s name. His body was there too, but it was nothing but dust now. Plus, the man she loved stopped being the man she loved the moment his heart stopped beating. The boys were right, it was time to move on, but how did someone leave the past behind?
She cranked the car and drove forward, passing hundreds of other loved ones that had passed. The grass was lush and green, making the road out of the cemetery beautiful as much as it was sad. So much pain and so much love was held here every day. So many tears cried over the many laughs that were once held with the person they mourned.
How did people move on from that? It couldn’t be easy, but maybe it would be worth it. Maybe Ginger might be able to breathe again.
Chapter 2
Joshua
He collapsed on his bed, loosening his tie in jerky movements. Today hadn't been a good day. His Vice President had fucked up the overseas deal to expand the company in Japan, his favorite assistant had quit, and to top it all off, his mother had had a stroke today and he'd just gotten back from the hospital. She wasn’t that old. She was seventy.
The doctors wouldn't know the damaged until she woke up. Her speech could be impaired, she might not remember certain things, she might not be able to walk. There was a list of things that the doctors had warned him about, but he couldn’t remember it all right now. Today had been a shit day, and all he wanted to do was sleep. Josh dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his temples with his fingers.
He'd had no idea how hard running the company and taking care of his mom would be after his dad had died two years earlier of a heart attack. Josh had been groomed since the day he was born to take over his father’s company—Hartline industries. They were huge medical suppliers, contractors, and real−estate developers for the medical community. They'd moved their headquarters to New Orleans after hurricane Katrina in hopes they could bring hospitals, doctors, and scientists to the area to improve it, and they had. They always had people working around the clock to improve medical supplies, but now that Josh was in the company up to his elbows, he wanted to get more into the real−estate development. He wanted to open a new, state-of-the-art hospital.
It would have to wait.
It felt like everything had to wait.
He'd never felt like this before. Ever since he was eighteen, he'd been ready to take over his father’s business and when he was old enough, they'd worked side by side, conquering the business and growing into a multi-billion-dollar company. Now he was forty-five years old and he was tired. He'd put all his effort into Hartline and what did he have to show for it? He came home to an empty house. He'd never been married, never had kids, and it was starting to get exhausting being alone. He had his mom, yeah, but she was older, and these days, she needed more help and attention than he could give. He had no idea where things had gone wrong.
Everything had been fine before his father had died and now it seemed liked everything was taking a nose dive. Maybe it was his fault. Maybe he couldn’t handle the pressure of running the company by himself. He was used to having his father as a partner, someone he could count on to take half of the stress. The idea of getting a new partner left as soon as it came. He didn’t want to think about it. He threw his tie off and stood, strolling toward the bathroom.
“Damn it!” he yelled when he stubbed his toe on the bed frame. Every fucking time he walked toward the bathroom. He was getting rid of the damn thing and putting the mattress on the floor. “Stupid piece of wood,” he grumbled, like it was the bed’s fault for being there. He limped toward the bathroom, his shirt unbuttoned, and his pants unzipped. He flipped the switch, illuminating the large tub in the corner and the walk−in shower that was next to it. A pang hit his chest when he saw the left side sink of the two-sink vanity empty and abandoned.
Josh stared at himself in the mirror, really looked at himself. His hair had grown out, it didn’t look bad, but the dark strands needed to be trimmed. They were starting to curl at the nape of his neck. He hadn’t shaved in a few days and he was starting to get a beard. He had dark circles under his eyes and wrinkles that hadn't been there a few years ago. Grey started to weasel its way into his hair, showing his age.
He sighed, throwing his shirt to the side and kicking his pants off. His body was still fit and defined—sure he didn’t look like he had when he was in his twenties, but he still kept his body in shape. His chest hair was lighter, like it was slowly turning from dark brown to grey. He gripped the marble counter with his hands, leaning against it with his head down before pushing off and walking towards the shower and turning the knobs. The spray shot out of the rainforest head, heating quickly.
The steam rose, swirling around the stone enclosure, invading his lungs, relaxing his muscles, and taking the weight from his shoulders. He let the spray hit his back and lay his palms against the wall, hanging his head as the water cascaded over his head. His hair hung over his face and he watched as the water streamed from the strands.
“Something needs to change,” he told himself. The company used to be his life, but now it was making him feel emptier and emptier, abandoned like the extra sink in the bathroom. He stood, tossing his head back. He let the heat from the water take over, melting away the worry of work and replacing it with an image of a woman on her knees. He didn’t think of anyone in particular, just a woman with big breasts and a thick ass. She grabbed his cock, stroking it until it was hard and aching.
Josh wrapped his fingers around his girth and the familiar tingles traveled up the stalk, making his balls roll. The woman in his imagination lead the thick head to her lips, but she didn’t put it in her mouth, instead she licked around the head, tracing the helmet.
His body shivered. He couldn’t remember the last time he'd been with a woman. His life had been so busy with work and taking care of his mother that he hadn’t had time to go out and meet someone, not even for a hook-up—and he felt it too. The ache in his balls intensified, but even with the faceless woman on her knees, pleasing him, his cock started to flag, losing the pleasure. “No, no, no,” he whimpered. He wanted the release. He needed it. He craved it. He wanted to feel limp and ease some tension, but the woman faded and all that as le
ft was his flaccid cock in his palm.
He glanced down, staring at the muscle. He knew why he couldn’t get off, it was because he wanted more and jacking off like a horny teenager wasn’t cutting it anymore. He was a grown man and he wanted sex. He wanted an adult relationship. Josh wanted to be able to call someone his. He wanted to come home and wrap his arms around the woman he loved, kiss her on the cheek, ask her how her day was.
Het punched the stone wall of the shower. When the hell did he become so domesticated? For the last twenty years life had been everything he wanted it to be. He had everything he wanted. A big house, a nice car, piles of money, expensive clothes. He had the ability to buy anything he wanted, but it couldn’t buy the void that was in his heart.
He sighed, giving up the orgasm and not leaving the stress behind him in the shower like he wanted, instead taking it with him as he turned the knobs off, stopping the stream. He wrapped a towel around his waist. Right as his foot hit the tiled floor, his phone rang in the other room.
“Please don’t let it be work,” he said, speed walking until he stood by his nightstand, unplugging his phone. He smiled when he saw it was Garrett, one of his good friends.
He slid the green button to the side to answer. “Hey, man. I haven’t heard from you in weeks. How are you?” Josh opened the mini fridge that he kept in his room and opened a bottle of water.
“Josh, hey. I’m glad I caught you. I’m sorry it’s so late. How are things?”
He exhaled a breath. “Not so good. Mom’s in the hospital. She had a stroke.”
“What? Shit, dude. I’m sorry. Is she okay? Considering…”
“I don’t know. She hasn’t woken up yet. They said they would call me and let me know about any changes. I just got home. I’m taking the rest of the week off work to hang out at the hospital.” He took a swig of water.
“That’s a good idea. If you need anything, let me know.”
Josh didn’t like the sound of Garrett’s voice. It had an uncertainty to it, like he wanted to ask something, but couldn’t. “Garrett?”
“Hmm? Yeah, buddy?”
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing, I was just checking in.”
“At eleven at night?”
A heavy sigh came through the other end of the phone and a curse. “I don’t know how to ask. I don’t know how to talk to you about it. It can wait until your mom's better. I can’t talk to you about it knowing your mom's in the hospital.”
Josh was tired, yes. Stressed, yes. But he was never done being a friend, no matter how much weight he felt he carried. “Talk to me, Garrett. Everyone has shit going on in their lives. I can help the best way I can.” He sat on his bed, keeping the towel on. He would take it off and get under the covers but talking to a dude on the phone while he was naked felt weird. He leaned against the headboard, crossing his ankles as he waited for Garrett to speak up.
“I fucked up, man.” Garrett whispered so low, Josh almost didn’t hear it.
The hair on his arms stood up from the fear in Garrett’s voice. “Garrett, what happened? What did you do?” Josh knew he must have done something. Garrett had always had a bad gambling habit, sinking all of his earnings into slot machines and black jack. Luckily, he didn’t gamble on anything illegal, but if things kept going, it was only a matter of time.
“I’m going to lose the firm. I need your help. Please, I’m desperate.”
Josh shook his head. “I’m not giving you money so you can blow it on a poker hand.”
“No. No. I won’t. I want you to be there. I've gambled too much money to keep the firm going for much longer. I need you to buy it, to own it. Make me an employee.”
He slammed the phone on his bed, rubbing his eyes with his other hand. Today had really fucked him. “What do you mean you need me to buy it? If I buy it, the funds go to you, and you have all that money to gamble away. How can I trust you with this?” Granted, once the business sold, any money Garrett got would be his money. He could do what he wanted with it, but Josh didn’t want to feed his habit. He wanted Garrett to get help.
“Once I sign the office to your name...” he sighed, “I can’t believe I’m about to say this. I’m paying off all my debt and then I want you to slowly add the rest to my salary. I don’t want everything at once. I don’t want to fuck up anymore. I have good employees here. They're good people. My paralegal is probably the best human being I’ve ever fucking met. I can’t get better without your help.”
Josh sighed, knowing what he was going to do. He was going to take this on. He knew he would never leave his friend hanging. Garrett was grasping at straws or he would never have pushed his pride to the side to call his wealthier, more successful friend. He wasn’t being conceded, Josh was the wealthier of the two, and didn’t have a gambling problem, so his money only grew in his account while Garrett’s dwindled.
“Please, Josh. I know I’m asking a lot. I don’t know what else to do.”
“If I do this, you get help. It’s going to be a part of the deal and contract. You’re going to a therapist and a gambler’s anonymous meeting, if they have those. I’m serious, Garrett.”
“Anything. Anything you want, I’ll do.”
“You’re going to take a pay cut. I’ll have a financial advisor look over your bills after your debts are paid. You'll get paid the amount you need, the rest will go into another account, something you can’t touch until you’re retired. I don’t want to treat you like a child when you’re a grown man, but I don’t know what else to do,” he admitted, remembering all the times he'd helped Garrett over the years.
“Yes, I know. I deserve it. Anything you want, just if you don’t buy, I’ll have to sell the building to someone else and close the firm, hundreds of people and lawyers would be without a home, I can’t do that. You’re a good businessman. I know I can trust you to make it better.”
“I’ll be there tomorrow after I visit my mom. I’ll help you. We can talk about it. I won’t leave you hanging. You know that.”
There were a few beats of silence and Josh glanced at the phone to see if Garrett had hung up. “I know. I know I can always count on you, I’m just sorry you can’t count on me.”
“I can count on you, just not when it comes to money. You’re a good friend, Garrett, and that’s a lot more than a lot of people have.” Josh glanced at the clock to see they'd been on the phone for a half hour. Wow, time sure does fly by when you’re stressed. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow. I don’t know when. I’ll call you.”
“Okay. Tell me if you and your mom need anything. Thanks again, man. I’ll never be able to repay you. 'Night.”
“'Night.” Josh hung up, tossing the phone onto the nightstand and groaned, throwing his head back on the pillow. He stared at the ceiling, wondering how the hell he was going to buy out a law firm. He didn’t know a damn thing about the law. Maybe this was what he needed though. A good change of pace from his company. He unraveled the towel, tossing it onto the floor and threw the covers back, tucking himself in. Right when he closed his eyes, his phone rang again and he groaned, searching for the damn device that ruled his life.
“Hello?” he mumbled, exhaustion controlling his tone.
“Joshua Hart?”
“This is he.”
“This is Doctor Bailey from New Orleans Regional.”
He sat up, wide-eyed. “Is this about my mother?”
“Gloria Hart, yes. I have you listed as the emergency contact.”
Josh rolled his eyes, wishing the man would hurry up. “Yep. That’s me. Is my mom okay? I was just there and she hadn’t woken up yet. Is she awake?”
“No. I don’t want you to panic, but she had a mild heart attack.”
The breath whooshed from his lungs. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t lose his mom too—not yet. “A heart attack? She's been asleep! Who the fuck has a heart attack in their sleep?”
“It’s actually no
t that uncommon. Especially when the body is already under stress.”
“So, she had a heart attack from the stroke? If she hadn’t had the stroke, would she have still had the heart attack?”
“Probably not. Looks like the stroke caused a bit of damage along the wall of her heart, but it isn’t severe. Think of it like a bruise.”
Josh pinched the bridge of his nose. Think of it like a bruise? Was this guy serious? “Do I need to come there?” He tossed the covers off and sat up. He stretched, trying to get the exhaustion out of his body.
“No, no. There’s nothing you can do right now. She hasn’t woken up yet. I wanted to update you is all.”
Probably because I'm one of the biggest contributors to the hospital.
“You sure I don’t need to come? I can get there in less than ten minutes.”
“Your mother is stable for now. I’ll call if anything changes, but for now, try and get some rest yourself. I know during times like these, things can get stressful.”
No kidding.
“Okay. Please keep me updated.” Josh hung up, clutching the phone until he heard it creak. He yelled, throwing his arm back, and wanting to toss it against the wall. He was done. He was so fucking done with all the bullshit.
He was done with the company.
He was done being a good friend.
He was done being a good son.
He was done with the stress of it all.
Josh’s arm shook from the control that was slowly slipping. He wanted to throw it. He wanted to see it shatter into a million pieces against the wall. His arm dropped. He couldn’t. Because his fucking life was in this damn piece of plastic. He let out another sigh, tossed his phone on the nightstand and dropped his head into his hands. When had life become so damn complicated?
The glint of the decanter that sat on his dresser gleamed. It was one of those nights. The amber liquid almost glowed with how the light hit it. It looked like melted honey and cinnamon, but he knew what it really tasted like−−−a hint of fire with a bit of smoke. He usually always had a shot right before bed. It helped him sleep, but tonight, tonight was different. Too much shit had happened today.