by Love Belvin
Elle’s hazel irises glimmer as she peers my way. They communicate so much and scream impressed. “Thanks,” she snorts, taken by Mr. BSU already. It’s pathetic and, I thought, impossible for a worldly woman like Elle. But this isn’t just any Joe. The Ashton I thought I knew at eighteen/nineteen years old was highly cerebral and rugged at the same time. He preferred you to believe his urban persona over his deeply intellectual abilities. Now, at thirty-one years old, I can appreciate that interchangeability. “We’re certainly trying to make our mark on branding.” She ends that small exchange with her killer signature smile, which Ashton returns.
My lungs hitch, and Ashton’s attention returns to me. His head tilts again and eyes narrow, and I could feel heated reproach in them. When my gaze shifts to Elle, there is something similar in her posture, too.
They’re standing…
I push back from the table, fighting for a cool veneer. My hands meet at my pelvis line as I smile painfully with closed lips. His scent meets me before I stop before him. God, I thought this would be easier than what my fears created. But I have to remain cool. I’m not that young, uncultured, insecure girl he knew and hurt. I’m now a woman who’s traveled the world and made a name for myself through my talent. I have more words in my arsenal to articulate myself, and more sense than to be emotionless when up against sophisticated, gregarious energy such as his. I can do this.
Ashton’s hand extends to me, eyes sparkling with censure I’ve forgotten I was able to feel from him. “It’s good to see you. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”
I nod, eyes blinking fast then meet his big, warm palm. “Glad you had the time.”
His head tilts even more and eyes narrow slightly smaller, but a ghosted smile appears, too. “Is that right?”
Pulling in a deep breath, I assured, “It is.” I point behind me. “Please. Have a seat.”
The waiter returns with the drinks, and as he loads the table with them, I turn to Elle.
“Hey,” I start. “I think I’m going to take this one alone. Is that okay with you?”
It’s a stupid question. I invited her here to be an emotional shield or blanket against whatever Ashton is. Suddenly, I don’t want protection or assistance with him. I need clarity for the both of us if we’re going to be sharing time in the near future. He needs to know the adult Tori; fuck the child. He betrayed her. And I’m sure Elle being here is giving a perceptive Ashton Spencer old Tori from BSU vibes.
Elle’s eyes flick between Ashton and me, clearly staggered by my sudden change in agenda. “Su-sure!” she chirps. She looks around the table locating her belongings, then begins collecting them. “I’m almost positive Jackson’s in the area, closing on a deal.” She winks, standing with her deep red Hermès Birkin bag hanging from her lower arm. “There’s nothing like a Hunter threesome.” She winks then fastens her attention to me. “Call me later about those designs. I’d like to know which one you go with so I can have our people vet them properly.”
I nod, grateful for her seamless reaction to my impulsive decision. I watch her strut off in five-inch Giuseppe Zanottis before I’m able to bring myself to look Ashton Spencer in the face. And my… He’s devilishly handsome, and is quite aware of it, I can see.
“You look great, Tori.” His compliment doesn’t exactly match his expression. That makes it hard to believe him.
I pull in a heap of air through my nose, surprised by his words. Empty of my own, I offer, “Thanks,” which is accompanied by a ready for press smile. Then my brain jumps into gear. “I appreciate that.” I swallow. “My assistant says we don’t start the interview for another week or so. Why are we meeting now?”
“I’m not sure if you’ve been made aware that my associate, Tyler Thomas, was supposed to do this S.I. piece, but unfortunately can no longer meet the obligation.”
Nodding, I share, “Yes, I’ve been told.”
“And he’s asked me to step in as his proxy.”
“Yes.” I struggle with my eye focus. I want to look at him to study each of his facial features and gaze away as to not care in equal measures. “My team has made me aware. I’ve okayed it.”
“Have you?” Ashton doesn’t sound too sure of my answer.
“Yup. I have.” Then something hits me. “Do you have a problem with doing it?”
For the first time, it’s Ashton’s eyes that falter and he doesn’t answer right away. “Which is yours?” My eyes follow his to the table confused. “The drinks.”
Oh!
“I didn’t order either.” Honestly. “Elle did.”
Ashton goes for the brandy glass and takes a sip. He nods in approval. “Mauve.” He guesses correctly. Or maybe he knows. Ashton was damn near born a millionaire. If he’s a brandy drinker, of course, he’d know Mauve. It’s been the fastest growing brand of quality brandy for years now. I’ve even shared a glass with Barack and Michelle Obama last fall in their home in Illinois. “I guess I shouldn’t expect anything less from your aristocratic circle.”
My eyes burst wide. “Aristocratic?” That’s it. “Let me tell you something, Ashton Spencer. If we’re going to do this, there’s a very important key to my life you need to know.”
A smirk opens on his face. “What’s that?”
Blood rushes in my ears and my body is vibrating from a surge of anger I can’t contain. “I’m not that young broken girl from Millville, New Jersey, who couldn’t articulate or express herself. I’m not poor, pitiful, needy, and lacking grace and manners. No. I’m a wealthy, talented woman, who used the little she was left after all the shit I’ve been through as a child and young adult to set a course of success that will allow for generational wealth for the women coming behind me. I give to countless charities and even have a longstanding and wide-reaching organization myself that’s creating more Tories. I am whole, strong, and unbreakable.”
I stab the white tablecloth, being sure to measure my volume. “I will not allow anyone—including you—to reduce me to what they think they know of me because of my humble beginnings; not without crushing you first.” I pointed to the Mauve. “Shit. I have mutual friends with the man who owns that company. I won’t apologize for or cower away from what I’ve made of myself.”
Emotionless, Ashton reaches for the glass and gulps it all back. I follow the process of his swallowing by sight and sound. He leans into the table, placing his elbows on either side of the empty glass. “I’m a journalist, KaToria.” I know this. It’s why he’s sharing the same air as me right now. Notwithstanding my curiosity about his career choice. Ashton Spencer’s only dream was to be in the League, being the new Tariq Evans. Jordan Johnson has taken that role, leaving Ashton Spencer unheard of. “It’s my job to research and dig and learn and pour over countless documentation to draw conclusions.”
“And.”
“And when I tentatively accepted the assignment from Thomas, I did a cursory search of your career’s timeline, and learned it strengthened not quite ten years ago when you resumed fighting under your former trainer, Kevin “Uppercut” Michaels, and began sweeping titles in the state until you went regional in the same manner. I read about when you left super welterweight for middleweight, then back to super welterweight then up to super middleweight—strange pattern, but I know about it.
“I researched your small battle with Uppercut when you decided to break away from his tutelage for the big league. He publicly resented you for it for over a year until his son, world renowned Ragee, arranged for a private talk of peace between the two of you, at which time you gave him an unprecedented title on your newly formed team with Love In Action with an undisclosed five-year term salary. A pacifying agreement I wonder if his son recommended, just like he suggested you going over to the Hunter’s burgeoning sports agency in the first place, by the way.”
I suck in a breath at his accuracy, and Ashton tosses me a wink to let me know he knew for sure the inner-workings of my organization.
“We can fill in the blanks and inn
uendos later down the line,” he continued. “Right now…right here…today, I’d like to demonstrate my motives in taking on the assignment for Thomas. I’m not here for any other reason than to gather information about the Tori of yesterday and her journey to the Black ass, bad ass Tori McNabb that has acquired multiple world championship belts in several weight classes, and is currently reigning as the undisputed female middleweight champion of the world.”
He motions for the attention of the waiter and orders another glass of Mauve without the use of words. Then his attention returns to me and Ashton chuckles.
“What?”
This is definitely one of those menacing snickers I’d been the recipient of too many times in my BSU days. Just when I’ve lowered my guard, he gives me reason to not be so trusting again, another action of his I recall so vividly. Ashton gave generously and took my dignity without shame or conscience.
“It’s just that after all these years since remedial Basic Writing, Professor Brown pegged you precisely.”
“How?”
“You haven’t mastered the art of using commas versus periods.”
I vaguely recalled him admonishing me about this years ago. “What does that mean?” My face is tight with contempt.
“You’re jumping to a faulty conclusion and are prepared to end a thing prematurely. You think my interest here is to be…” His eyes roll up as he considers the words. “…haughty and judgmental when it’s you, in fact, who is misjudging me. I’m a journalist, not an immature twenty-two year old, clueless ass student. Allow me the benefit of the doubt before the ‘Run the World’ protest. Save it for the article. I promise to be positive.”
Am I overreacting? I hope so. Am I crazy as hell for giving Ashton Spencer access to my life again? He doesn’t deserve it. There’s no room for his kind in my universe. He was a mistake; my biggest to date. He’s no different from my mother or Cut. I was kind enough to forgive them for abandoning me during my Blakewood days, but neither wounded me as much as this man sitting mere feet across from me. I may not give him the pleasure of crying my tears of yester-year, but I damn sure won’t forget what he did to me.
Ashton’s eyes, those chocolate abysses that always held great knowledge, wisdom…and my pain, sear me when lifting from my left hand to my face.
“So.” He inhales, raising his bearded chin I still can’t believe is as dark and full as it had been 13 years ago when I first laid eyes on him. “I hear you’re engaged.”
Clearing my throat, I readjust myself in my seat, trying hard as hell not to reveal my squirming. “I am. Since April.” I muster false pride. “We met like two years ago—”
“Approximately thirteen months ago at the BET Awards in Los Angeles, yes. I’m aware.”
My eyes fall to the table, and lids won’t stop blinking as I attempt the math in my head. How the fuck does he—
A subterranean deep rumble pushes from his stomach and echoes torturously around me. And instantly, I’m eighteen-year-old timid Tori in his elite world where I had no place in.
“See? You don’t know shit about commas, but your ass is damn sure conversant with periods.”
My head spins so fast, I grip the table to anchor myself.
###
To be continued in…
Summer 2020
#PenningWithoutParameters
#ImGonnaMakeYouLoveMe
www.LoveBelvin.com
See visuals from the series here on my website – http://www.lovebelvin.com/MutedHopelessness
~Love Acknowledges
Visuals: 365 Photography – Brooklyn! I worked your nerves for this one, and I can’t promise I won’t for the next, but what I do know is that our art does a beautiful dance together. Thanks so much for lending your creativity to bring my vision to life! Fierce Faces – Kaydene, you kicked me to the curb this time, but it was needed! BK knows all of my colors by now. I’m so fortunate to have your awesome talent to collaborate with. Thanks for your artistry and patience (I didn’t get cussed out this time). DJ & Corrye, thanks so much for serving as visuals for our Ashton and Tori. Thanks for allowing me to be a part of your successful journeys. My best to you in all your endeavors!
Researcher: Shumethia S. — I feel like I didn’t bother you enough during the writing process. Hmmmm… Maybe because you’ve been working on Tori since 2018? I feel like I miss you! *tear-tear*
Beta Reader: — Yorubia, I appreciate the way you let me rant on and on about fictional people and you respond as though they’re people next door. Thanks so much for sharing in on my active imagination.
LBTR — Afi, Angela J.J., Artemysia, Asha-kai, Ashley, Ayanna, Bonita, Brittany, Courtney, Danielle, Denise, DeVona, Diva Dee, Doris, Ericka M., Gail, Grace, Heather, Heidi, Hyacinth, Jasmine, Kamashia, Karmen, Katrina, Kendra, Kerry, Keyma, Kim, Kimmiko, Kita, Korei, LaLa, LaSonde, Linda R., Linda W., Lee, Malaika, Marshall, Michelle M., Michelle R.O., Michelle T., Mocha, Monique H., Monique N., Natoya, Nena, Nikki, Rakia, Quan, Regina, Richell, Rose, Roslyn, Samona, Sharon L., Sharon F.W., Shaun, Sophia, Stacey, Tanisha, Tara, Teresa, Terri G., Tesha, Tiffany, Tineka, Tonya, Tralaina, Vivian, Wendi, Yolanda P., Yolanda U., and Yorubia, I love you guys for being my home base. Many of you provide feedback, whether it’s good or bad, and always with love and a sense of commitment to me. Thanks for being that core of support. Jemeka & Rita: You two have been a rock in an unstable industry. Some have come and gone, but Rita stays with her head lobbing from Jemeka to me each time we sound off. Hahahahahaha! Love you to the moon!
Christina C. Jones aka CCJ — Whew! Thanks for lending me your fictional university, Blakewood State! I’m so glad you approve of my coloring of it. I hope the sister-readers we share enjoy its development. It’s been so fun! I appreciate the personal and professional contributions to my life and brand. I can’t wait to see what next level for us looks like. You’ve been a wonderful ride companion in my career. Love you.
Interior Artist: Cedeara Ardell McCollum — Thanks, baby girl, for the imagery you’ve designed for my books! Love you always!
Proof Reader: Tina V. Young — If you ever consider relocating to Jersey, I have a realtor on speed dial. You are truly a lifesaver. Love you so much, T!
Editors:
Zakiya Walden of I’ve Got Something to Say! — I appreciate your hard work and dedication. This process reminds me of our L.I.P. days. LOL! May we have many more!
Santisha Taylor of AccuProse Editing Services — I did right by you this time (insider). Let’s hope I continue. Your brain is amaze-balls! I’m grateful to have you on my team!
MDT: I’m back, my G. Get that Role ready! (No, for real.)
Master, my Jireh, my Rohi, Matthew 10:16 (NKJV) “Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves. Therefore be wise as serpents and harmless as doves.” Lord, in this business you’ve allowed me to pursue, never let me identify with the wolves. Keep me wise and my heart gentle in this jungle.
~Other Books by Love Belvin
Love’s Improbable Possibility series:
Love Lost, Love UnExpected, Love UnCharted & Love Redeemed
Waiting to Breathe series:
Love Delayed & Love Delivered
Love’s Inconvenient Truth (Standalone)
Love Unaccounted series:
In Covenant with Ezra, In Love with Ezra & Bonded with Ezra
The Connecticut Kings series:
Love in the Red Zone, *Love on the Highlight Reel, *Determining Possession, End Zone Love, Love’s Ineligible Receiver, & *Pass Interference (*by Christina C. Jones)
Wayward Love series:
The Left of Love, The Low of Love & The Right of Love
Love in Rhythm & Blues series
The Rhythm of Blues & The Rhyme of Love
The Sadik series
He Who Is a Friend, He Who Is a Lover & He Who Is a Protector
~Extra
You can find Love Belvin at www.LoveBelvin.com
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