Love UnCharted (Love's Improbable Possibility)

by Belvin, Love

  Please know that as much as you may hate me, I hate myself for fooling the both of us into thinking I could love you the way you need to be loved. I appreciate all you’ve done to make me feel whole and alive in my otherwise motionless and empty existence. I want you happy more than I want to continue to risk hurting you and at the end revealing that those very things you are waiting to surface in me are actually improbable possibilities.

  Take care.

  I owe you a debt of gratitude far beyond what I deserved.

  Rayna

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  The next two days came and went. My period and its symptoms relented and dissipated, much to my relief. I was still very blue, but miraculously still in motion.

  That Friday, I met with Brian Thompson to discuss the pending lawsuit against the practice. He needed to brief me on the details of it and what to expect in the up and coming weeks from the preliminary hearings. I couldn’t believe how quickly things were progressing. And to my surprise, the PTA that was transferred to my location two weeks prior was at the center of it. Apparently, he was transferred to me as a legal strategy when he was accused of sexual harassment by one of the interns at the Orange County location.

  Naturally, I was livid and asked how ethical was it to put other staff at risk of the same harassment Wayne Tanner was being accused of. Thompson did his best to explain that the procedure was standard and other tactics were being considered to protect all parties involved. We spoke extensively about the situation and it added to the mountain of stress that had pressured the levy in my world.

  When I peered up to check the time, I noticed it was well after two in the afternoon and I was starved.

  “Thompson, I’m sorry to be rude…”

  “Shit. I didn’t realize how much time had passed. I hope I didn’t keep you from seeing patients.”

  “No. Not at all. It’s just that I’m hungry. I’ve been moving so much over the past few days that I’ve been neglectful in nourishing my body.” I gave a sheepish smile. I could be so “valley”, something I’d often accused Michelle of.

  “I can use a bite myself. Why don’t we go grab a late lunch? There’s a new spot at Marina Pacifica that I’d love to check out.”

  I stilled at his invitation. It had always been a red zone for me. I never had to think about the answer, just how to formulate a no. Until today.

  Thompson snorted, “It’s just lunch, Rayna. I’ll even let you pay if that’ll make you feel better.”

  I exhaled into laughter. His proposal was actually attractive. “My stomach won’t allow me to say no. Let me clear it with Sharon and I’ll meet you outside.”

  The hugest, most endearing smile crested upon Brian’s face. It was as if he’d won his first sports championship as an adolescent. It also felt good to let down my guard and look forward to a simple lunch date with someone low-key.

  The lunch date turned out to be all but simple. My marred judgment to order a cocktail was the first strike. I was so wound up and knew I didn’t have anymore patients for the rest of the day, so I used that to make it okay to order a second. Brian followed suit and enjoyed Patron pomegranate cocktails, an odd drink for a man. The ambiance of the restaurant on the water was familiar. It was the backdrop to many of the dining excursions Azmir arranged for us, only I wasn’t with Azmir. I was with Brian Thompson, laughing mindlessly at the candor of his feelings for the higher ups of the practice.

  “Jim Katz has no balls. He allows Dave to take risks all the time that leaves the practice so damn vulnerable. And he’s a fucking pathological liar. You know when Dave Smith is lying through his teeth when his nose turns red.”

  I balled over in laughter. I knew that crimson nose so well. “Even the lumps on it turn a special shade of pink!” I spat out.

  “Oh, so you know the infamous indicator, too?” he cackled as he put his glass back down on the table.

  “Yes, Michelle put me up on it my first week of interning with the practice.”

  “Shit. I wish I had someone to give me the heads up before my first sit down with an opposing attorney.”

  We laughed hysterically as we covered a myriad of topics. It was nice to escape reality, even if only for a couple of hours. It afforded me the opportunity to meet another Brian Thompson, one I needed at that point in my crazy world. I was relieved with the amount of safety and carefree environment that was conducive to my emotional state at that time.

  Somewhere, mid our third drink when the waiter was clearing our plates, Brian muttered, “This has been my dream for the past two months.”

  “What?” I sighed, catching my breath from my last laughing spree.

  “Seeing you this free to laugh around me. To see a new smile upon your face, one that I effected.” His gaze into me narrowed as I experienced the sincerity in Thompson’s eyes. If he was kicking game, he made me believe him.

  “Well, thanks for the laughs.” I took a sip of my cosmopolitan. “Considering the past couple weeks I’ve had, it feels good to laugh.”

  “Your smile complements your cut. It’s beautiful by the way. It unleashes your femininity.” Thompson’s tone stopped short of a growl. I could tell he was measuring his coquetry. For some reason, I was pleased that he not only noticed my new change, but approved of it, something I doubted Azmir would. Azmir was extremely fond of my natural mane. He even loved it more when it was wild and unrestrained. Humbly, I brushed the back of my neck, something that was growing habitual now that it was exposed. I felt empowered.

  “You’re beautiful,” Thompson continued. My brows furrowed at his openness. “Not that you haven’t always been, but this is a new side of your beauty that I wasn’t privy to before today. I feel honored, and now I’m jealous.” He didn’t break his deep gaze when he lifted to drink from his tumbler.

  Brian and I made it back to the practice just before five p.m. and through my inebriated fog, I saw people taking to their cars, ending another workweek. I noticed Brian’s smooth dash around his sleek white BMW 750 to open my door. I was careful to stand gracefully considering my state. Once out, I leaned into the car, giving him enough room to close the door. I wanted to thank him for a nice afternoon outing. I’d likely be heading out after clearing my desk.

  Thompson’s smoldering eyes were drunken with strong desire that couldn’t be mistaken. When his mouth came into my face I knew what he was doing, but didn’t have the speed of mind and/or the coordination of body to move clear out of the way of his tempting lips. I felt the heat from his tequila fragrant breath and braced myself when I was abruptly hit with the realization that it wasn’t Azmir’s familiar brandy mixture. But it was too late.

  “YOU MUST HAVE LOST YOUR FUCKIN’ MIND!”

  The frightening shriek rang familiar and had my legs quivering in my pumps. My movements were slow thanks to the four cocktails I downed at the restaurant, but eventually I was able to turn to see Azmir’s onrush towards me and immediately felt him toss my limpid body away from the car. Panic settled in when I couldn’t stop flying and then I felt the arms of someone else. I looked up to find Ray’s long arms surrounding me, breaking me from my near-cement collision.

  Thompson flew into a rage. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing, Jacobs? She doesn’t belong to you anymore!”

  Azmir’s seething eyes left mine, but before he looked over to Thompson and I saw red in them. They were droopy and told stories of his lack of sleep, restlessness, and something darker—fury. He was draped in a wonderfully fitted two-piece dark gray suit with a hint of a gloss that exposed his deliciously crafted thighs and his dress shirt was untucked with the first few buttons undone. The stubble in his face couldn’t go unnoticed. While the look flawed on most men, it wondrously made Azmir’s look edgy and sexy as hell and turned me on to end. My strong, commanding, virile mogul was exhausted, and looked at me with such ferocity that it terrified me. In a flash, I saw pain and betrayal in his eyes that oddly gave my drunken state a boost of courage.

  “W
ho do you think you are, making a scene like this?” I fired away.

  Azmir’s face scrunched as he walked closer to me suspiciously. It was deathly frightening. I didn’t know what he was capable of, I’d never seen him this angry…with me. That’s when I saw Thompson rushing Azmir, and before I knew it, he swung his fist and hit the tip of Azmir’s chin and seemingly without much impact.

  Fearing Azmir would be caught off guard and harmed, I screamed, “Nooooooo!”

  Azmir, unfazed by the minor blow due to Thompson’s inaccuracy and lack of strength, maintained his amble towards me.

  “Are you… Have you been drinking?”

  I didn’t know how to respond to it. His revelation made me feel exposed and that somewhere along the way I’d allowed my tipsy state to show. His scowl effectively forced me off my balance and farther into Ray’s hold. Angrily, I snatched away from him, trying desperately to give a façade of dignity.

  “What is it to you, Azmir?” was all I could think to retort.

  Azmir reached over to me, causing me to flinch, and with tender care, wiped my right eye.

  “You let her…fuckin’ did this to her in the middle of a workday?” Azmir yelled over to Thompson.

  That’s when I saw Thompson, again launching toward Azmir, “Don’t fucking touch her!” he screamed violently and hit Azmir in the back of his head.

  Again, Azmir didn’t recoil. It was as if Thompson’s efforts were from an errant toddler.

  Hoarsely, Azmir ordered to Ray, “Take her to the fuckin’ marina! I’ll be there in a minute!” Brooklyn was definitely in effect.

  When Ray gently, yet firmly took me at my shoulders, he urged, “Come on, Ms. Brimm. Let’s go.”

  “No! I’m not going anywhere!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Azmir, I don’t belong to you. I’m not one of your many assets!”

  Calmly and with gentle tugs, Ray begged, “Ms. Brimm, please. We’re causing a scene at your place of business.”

  Huhn?

  I turned to see at least a dozen of people gawking at the events taking place. Then what should have been my initial fear in a sober mind had arrived. At least a half a dozen of brawny and treacherous looking men suddenly started closing in on our cipher and zeroed in on Thompson like vultures to its prey.

  “Give the word, Divine!” the thick one with his shirt already removed vowed, flexing his chest muscles, nearly drooling with harmful anticipation.

  Azmir, without looking at them, raised his left index finger in the air. The gang stopped in their tracks. “Legal Eagle,” Azmir spoke firmly. Even through my drunken state, I presumed it was cryptic for lawyer.

  He then looked over to me and roared, “You stay the fuck put until I get there!”

  That’s when Ray practically lifted me in the air, pulling me away from Azmir and Thompson. I wanted to scream and to pull from Ray’s grasp, but before I could sway my body, I saw Azmir walk into Thompson’s person with his head cocked to the side, saying something that wasn’t audible. I couldn’t hear what Thompson said in return either, but saw when he took another jab at Azmir that Azmir caught effortlessly midair. He grabbed Thompson’s fist and with lightning speed struck him square in the face twice, causing blood to squirt from his face before Thompson’s legs gave out and he collapsed on the ground. Azmir stood over him, still speaking as if Thompson was in any condition to respond.

  Thompson’s body was sprawled out and motionless on the concrete. Just like the guy on the dance floor with me last summer, Thompson didn’t see his doom coming. Azmir was a quiet storm, unassuming and I think that’s the way he wanted to be reputed. As Ray placed me in the car, I heard Azmir’s voice raise as he repeatedly asked him, “Didn’t I fuckin’ warn you to stay away from her?”

  It tore at my chest to see Azmir so angry and in acrimony while I was being hauled off, unable to calm him. Thompson was laid out on the ground, bloodied without Azmir even breaking a sweat.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  I sat on the sofa back at the marina with tears streaming down my tightened and stained face. In the past thirty minutes, I’d cried an abundance of tears—some that had dried, making tracks down my trembling cheeks and others fresher, tasting of bitter regret. Guilt had settled in while I rewound time and replayed it over and over again in my mind. My chest heaved in my blouse violently, my diaphragm was hyperactive with spasms. My quivering lips were moist from the warm breaths that rushed through my mouth. As my cosmopolitan high came down, I couldn’t believe the many lapses in judgment that led me to this agonizing place.

  Was Azmir arrested? Was Thompson hospitalized? Will this ruin Azmir’s image? Will I have a job? How will I deal with his pending hatred of me? I couldn’t begin to piece together a plan of resolve after this.

  Was it worth it?

  The plan was to sit. And wait.

  Ray kindly walked me to the door and let me in. I didn’t have my keys. Azmir had snatched them from the ground after they’d dropped from my hand when he pulled me from Thompson’s fold. I couldn’t go home to check on Azna. He needed to be let out and fed, he can’t call for help. Will Azmir call from the county jail? He wouldn’t call me, he has handlers for that. The cogs of my mind wouldn’t slow.

  Will Brett be calling me with the news? Perhaps Dawn Taylor. Oh, god! What have I done? My fretful thoughts wouldn’t halt.

  I jumped and swung my body around when I heard the door snatched open. Azmir’s lengthy physique forced through the door frame, cupping Azna in one arm while carrying two duffle bags on his other shoulder. I immediately recognized them. They were the same ones I packed from here when I left him last week. His eyes seized mine right away. I steeled.

  He dropped the bags from his shoulder and let down Azna, who didn’t run over to me. Instead my little fur ball ran toward the back of the apartment, possibly looking for his old toys. Azmir sauntered past me and over to the bar there in the living room near the waterfront view of the picturesque marina. He snatched a tumbler and poured a half a glass of brandy and in seconds, drained it before going for another. Seconds felt like hours anticipating his next move. The silence was deafening, but my throat was constricted and fear gripped my liberty to speak. He emptied the second glass of amber juice and slammed it on the bar, spewing mumbled profanities. My sweaty hands clawed the sofa.

  He set his fixation out on the marina and with a calm voice that roared in my heart he asked, “Do you want Thompson?”

  My eyes widened and mouth went dry as I parted my lips. “No,” I spoke with trembling chords.

  “Well, why the fuck would you get drunk with him during work hours?”

  I didn’t know how to answer that. I didn’t have to.

  “What do I have to do?” he asked with a frightening even tone.

  I didn’t understand his question. With a deep swallow, I attempted to wet my throat.

  “Do…?”

  His head jolted over to me infuriately. “Do! What do I have to do to make you feel safe again? What do I have to do to get you to forget about Thompson and…and Dawn…and to get you back to understanding that here is where you belong?” His breath gave out and his fist rose to his mouth. I knew there was no way around this conversation.

  “Time,” I submitted just above a whisper.

  Azmir slammed both fists into the bar and all the bottles on top leaped in place and met the bar top with a clash on their way down. “FUCK TIME! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH IT!” His vicious shout in his Brooklyn tongue vibrated off the walls.

  My head flew back into the sofa and wind came crushing through my mouth audibly. There was that frightening side of Azmir that I’d guessed laid dormant. I couldn’t believe that I caused the resurgence of it. I’d uncovered the rage.

  “In all my projected thoughts and plans of aging, never once did they include scraping at the meat of my nails…” he glanced down at his hands and I shivered at the visual. “…to keep a woman in my arms, at my side, in my home, in my bed. Never once did I think she woul
dn’t feel that I am good enough to hold on to.”

  His words plummeted my heart in double time. My throat closed up. I couldn’t breathe. “No, Azmir. It’s not like that,” I whimpered.

  His scowl darted back over to me. “The hell it ain’t!” he scoffed. “You run every chance you get. You run!”

  “It’s not like you have no culpability in this,” I bravely murmured, offended by his summary of things.

  “FUCK DAWN!”

  “YOU WANTED TO!” I jumped from the couch and dug my feet into the Persian rug, seething at his audacity. “You can stand here and lie all you want, but I know you—I know your sexual temperament. You wanted to fuck her, just like you wanted to fuck me after our first kiss,” I charged back at him.

  He cocked his head to the side, pushing his tongue into his molars and walked slowly over to me with revelation in his eyes. “Is that what you were going to do? W-was that your plan…to take him home and fuck him?” His brows were furrowed, masking the deep stirring of his wrath as he searched my eyes for the truth.

  “I-I would never stoop so low. I can’t believe you asked me that—”

  “You let him kiss you! If I hadn’t come out there looking for you to return, you would have—” he turned in disgust at the thought. “Gah!” He tramped back toward the water view with one hand on his hip and another in air until he swung it aimlessly and so hard, I jumped.