The Right Direction

by Kathy Coopmans

  By the time we make it to Grim, say our good-byes, and wait for her to dart across the street and into the hospital, the intuition is still there. It follows me to the office and all the way home.

  Far worse than before.

  Chapter 15

  Roman

  I twist the cap off of my beer and take a long-needed pull as I reflect back on the past week and a half. Funny how one minute your life is hell and the next the gates of heaven are opening up and welcoming you in.

  Joslyn is a hard woman to try and forget. She has her own unique combination that makes her astounding. And her smell, her smiles, her whimpers, her mind, and that body I will never get enough of all blend in to make her the exquisite woman she is. All of it is still lingering in my mind.

  It isn’t going to be easy with her sleeping in a different bed every night when we should be together. Can’t seem to shake the need to have her tucked close to my side. I understand her reasoning behind her needing space even if I don’t like it one bit.

  Seeing her trying to hide behind her pain the other morning after I told her about Dean by being all cute nearly broke me in half. Then she let go, those tears falling down her face. Each one of them is carrying a hard-hitting storm. Brought back the memories of hearing her cry on the phone all those years ago. Never did like it when she cried. Funny how all those times Gwen did it never bothered me at all. Goes to show what true love can do to a man.

  I don’t like having to hide her any more than I hate not having her with me. That, plus the fact she needs to get out is why I brought up Friday night. I had no doubt in my mind she wouldn’t jump at the chance, and to be quite honest, this is another thing I wasn’t able to do much when we were growing up. Not that she expected me to take her out; she didn’t. Rarely asked to do anything. She didn’t really need to when we had everything at our disposal inside our railcar. We had that rectangular box fixed up like an apartment. The only thing it was missing was running water. Our lighting came from candles, flashlights, and any other form of lighting we could find. Our old laptops provided us with everything from music to being able to watch movies. We ate, we danced, and on the rare occasion, we would drink.

  The funny thing is, I’m capable of taking her anywhere in the world, spending any amount of money on her I want, yet the place I’m taking her isn’t going to cost me a dime. And knowing this lifts the corners of my mouth, not because I won’t be spending anything; it’s because the smile that’s going to light up her face is worth more than all the money I own.

  Now that the guys are here, I was able to set my plan I thought of the other day in motion, and this place is the perfect outing for our first one in public.

  I’ve spent the past few days getting caught up in the studio. Even though we have highly educated employees who could run the entire business without any of us stepping foot in the place, we all love to lend a hand in the process of a story that’s root took flight on a piece of paper, grew into a song, then the song mixes with others, and before you know it, a full-fledged album is created.

  Owning and upholding a successful professional recording studio isn’t easy in today's society. The competition is tough. One of the hundreds of reasons why Trained in Black relishes in our reputation. We all have a passion for creating art, an understanding of the process of recording, the capability to think like a tycoon without having our noses up your ass, thinking we’re better than everyone, and as much drive and anticipation to help an up and coming artist rise or a veteran excel to the best of their potential.

  The technology in this industry is forever changing. The person or persons both in front and behind the project have to be able to work on a consistent basis. They need to focus on sound, take both constructive and positive criticism, and educate themselves by listening to each other. Our engineers and technicians are professionals. They work their asses off, and when one or all of us are there, it shows everyone how much we really care about their success. It’s a job we take seriously. A job I missed while being on the road.

  I finish my beer, reach for my laptop, and turn it on. My eyes land on a picture. I've avoided this shit up until now, but the urge to take a look gets the better of me.

  For the longest time, I stare at the hideous photo. Nearly chuckling when I see how it’s displayed.

  They have me frowning, my hands are cuffed behind my back as if I’m frustrated, and I’m right in the middle of Joslyn and Gwen. I know exactly when the one of Joslyn and me was taken. Mine was right after the officer directed me down the hall to my arraignment. Joslyn was several feet in front of me. Those bastards were already in the courthouse. Jesus, this is the worst I’ve ever seen these people.

  “Stupid fucks are dumber than I thought. I was far from confused. I was shocked and probably staring at the woman’s ass in front of me,” I grumble as I scroll down and read.

  Roman Nixon has been on the cover of almost every magazine known to exist. His band has earned multiple awards, including Entertainer of the Year three times, multiple Grammys, and an Oscar nomination for their number-one song Farewell from the animated movie Delightful.

  At the end of every award speech, he’s not once thanked his wife. However, he’s always had this gleam in his eyes as if he wanted to give thanks to someone else. Could this blond-haired lawyer from his past be the one he was silently thanking when he gave his acceptance speech?

  “This might be the first piece of truth they’ve written about me yet,” I add.

  As most of you know, not once has the notorious rock legend acted out in our attempt to strike up a conversation with him. He sure did when the name Joslyn Reynolds was brought up less than an hour after signing his divorce papers. He went as far as beating the crap out of one of our own. Was tossed in jail, and then the next thing we know, his gorgeous new lawyer is revealed as a woman from his past.

  It was explained to me by his now ex-wife Gwen Nixon, who refuses to go back to her maiden name, that Roman and Joslyn have been secretly seeing each other for well over a year. She claims her sudden reason for speaking out is because she’s tired of being quiet about the real reason why she was shockingly served with divorce papers, tired of people asking her questions, and she wants to put an end to it so she can carry on with her life.

  Here’s a recent photo of Ms. Nixon leaving her new apartment the other day for the first time in a little over a week. I’ll give her credit for walking out with a smile on her face in spite of all she’s been through. She was polite as always when asked questions. She greeted us with kindness and respect.

  When asked about her tweeting, she replied, and I quote: “I’ve always been vocal about the woman I am. I enjoy blogging about fashion, talking to women who aren’t confident about who they are. I’ve built a relationship with them. When the story about Roman and Joslyn broke out, so did the rush of the story on social media. I’m not out for revenge; I’m doing what’s best for me. Interacting with my friends and fans helps me get through the day.”

  Even though the biggest story this week is about her estranged husband and his new or old girlfriend, depending on if the rumors are true and whether or not that relationship started when the Nixons’ marriage was still presumably intact, the former makeup artist thanked us as she got behind the wheel of her car, driving off to a destination unknown.

  Here’s what we found out about Miss Reynolds. She’s bold, beautiful, and has a tragic past. Parents who deserted her. A miscarriage which resources claim Roman was the father. The verdict on whether he was or even if she truly was pregnant is still out on that one.

  “Dirty fuckers. How the hell do they come up with such bullshit?”

  Miss Reynolds basically has a clean record and always appears to be well put together. At least she was until she tripped over her own two feet while trying to run away from our cameras.

  We know from past experiences with other couples that the quiet ones are not who they appear to be. Both Roman and Miss Reynolds have kept to themse
lves since the story broke that they were seeing each other again. Or maybe they never stopped. Who knows?

  Feel free to click on the link below and take our online poll by telling us who you think is the better woman for the lead singer.

  “I can answer the question without clicking on the link, you fuckwads.” Christ. I laugh, exit the stupid article, and connect to Skype.

  When Joslyn and I talked earlier, she told me she Skypes with clients all the time. Says she prefers it to talking on the phone to ease their mind when the nerves kick in the closer they get to their court date.

  Her being that way with clients is just another way she proves how big of a heart she has.

  I debate telling her about the article but decide against it when I see her heavy lids hood over her glazy eyes. “You’d look so much better in my bed. I think you should let me come and get you,” I gripe, sit up straight, prop my legs out in front of me, and wait to hear the sound of her voice. It’s only been a few hours since I’ve heard it, but it’s been a couple of days since I’ve seen her beautiful face. She’s stunning with her hair pulled up on top of her head, face free of makeup, and her neck and shoulders bare. My dick is hard. It always is when I’m near her, especially now that I’m seeing all her silky, smooth flesh.

  It takes her a few seconds to adjust her laptop, but she finally meets my eyes, smiling seductively. I groan, say fuck it, and yank down my shorts, letting my cock rest heavily on my stomach. She’s not going to be the death of me; she’s going to push all the right buttons to keep me alive. Fucking shit, is she ever sexy as hell.

  “Really? I’ve slept in your bed, Roman. I’ve come to the conclusion that mine is quite comfortable. In fact, I’m thinking about sleeping here for a long time.” Damn, I love it when she taunts and smiles.

  “Over my dead body, you are. The way I see this playing out is, any bed with you in it is comfortable to me. Be it your place or mine. You are so fucking gorgeous. Do you have any idea how hard I am right now? I could hammer a nail into a board with one solid swing of my dick, that’s how much I want you.” My ability to speak is almost non-existent when the need to be buried between her legs is out of my reach. “Every time I thought about you, my cock jerked in my jeans. Especially when I thought of your mouth. Christ, I want it wrapped around my dick in a bad fucking way.”

  I sat through half of our press conference yesterday with a semi. Then he deflated when I went instantly on edge worrying they were going to bring her up, and when one did, I lost my shit, had them turn off the cameras, and kicked the fucker out before he had a chance to apologize. Dirty fucker knew from the beginning when Marcus told them we would strictly be talking about the excitement of starting a new album and thanking our fans for another record sold-out tour that he wasn’t to talk about her. I made sure to check his credentials before he was escorted out. No stone left unturned. He was legit, but hopefully not anymore. I won’t put up with the press we personally invite to invade our privacy. One thing I can’t stand is an idiot who thinks he can catch me off-guard the same way the asshole I punched did. Hope his job was worth our non-answer response.

  “So you keep saying. Maybe someday, if you're lucky.” My hands start twitching. I want to cover her smart mouth with my hand and sink inside of her pussy. She wouldn’t be so quick to tease then.

  “That someday would be right the fuck now,” I growl, my dick jumping.

  “Would you be serious for once, Roman? How was the rest of your day?” I study her briefly. Her smile slips and her eyes shift downward. She’s holding back on sharing something with me. Her tone lifted slightly with that one small sentence in between the other ones. She’s got some mixed emotions going on that I don’t know which one to pick at first. It's as though she's terrified to some degree. As if she senses danger. She's afraid of all the things she sees and hears. I need to bring her back to the strong woman she was. Not sure what’s running through her head right now. Pray it’s not her coming to realize she can’t adapt to being out in public without someone noticing her anymore. She filled me in last night on the dozen or so men and women outside the restaurant. At least the slimy fuckers didn’t badger her. Find it suspicious as hell that the guy who threatened her has up and disappeared. Not that we know what he looks like. It’s his threat we’re waiting on. This waiting game is driving me insane.

  “Don’t try and play innocent with me. This isn’t court. My day was hard. Very fucking hard. All I thought about was getting you underneath me again. You going to tell me what’s wrong?” The urge to show her how hard I am overpowers me. I want her with me so bad right now I ache from not having her hands on me. It’s crazy how I’ve managed to live all these years without her, and one weekend of doing nothing but fucking her every which way we could think of has me flipping my shit over not having her by my side. It's not just being buried balls deep in her either. It’s the need to protect her from everything. I’ll get back to my game plan as soon as she tells me what’s troubling her.

  “God, Roman. You and that mouth of yours. Nothing is really wrong. It’s been a long day, is all. It’s not easy finding out you have a brother and then being told you have to wait for God knows how long to try and see him. I’m concerned about what that guy from the attack meant. One minute I think I’m doing fine, and the next I feel like something terrible is going to happen any minute. Call it nerves, intuition, fright. Hell, I don’t know.” And there it is. Fear. The single emotion lives deep in us all. It will never fully go away.

  “I’m sorry it’s going to take longer than you hoped to see your brother. Keep in mind that whatever the reason for you not being able to see him is because he’s serving his country. That makes me proud; can’t imagine how it makes you feel. As far as everything else, I thought I told you I wouldn’t let anyone touch you again. My team has been keeping up with everything since this all began. The only person talking shit is Gwen. She’s one of those people who uses social media to keep herself in the limelight. More and more people are doing it these days. Behind the camera, she sucks, but she’s damn good at being a legend in front of it. Let her keep tweeting away her poor, pitiful me status on Twitter. As long as she can continue to create drama, she’ll have people following and talking about her. She’s a leech. Once I have my proof, she’ll be gone. There isn’t anything for you to be concerned about. You're stronger than all of this put together. We are stronger. Not going to tell you this shit again.” Seeing my life through her eyes makes me realize it’s nothing but chaos outside of my circle. It’s always going to be that way. She has to figure out how to deal with it just like she did every other issue in her life. They’re always going to be there. All she has to do is kick it down. I can’t drill it into her or convince her to let it go. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to drop little hints about the strength she possesses here and there.

  I see the moment boldness takes over inside of her. It shines all around her. If that’s all it takes, then I’ll remind her daily of what the two of us can be when we’re together. We have something unique and special. A second chance to just be ourselves. Every one of us needs a little reminder every once in a while of who we really are. Including me.

  “God, Roman, I’ve missed you so much.” Seconds of silence pass as the two of us take each other in. My brain soaking in her beauty, her weakness, her strength.

  She doesn’t even have to try and hide the woman she is on the inside, not from me. Except she does. She always has. It’s her sharp, intellectual way of trying to protect me. The woman is determined not to let a damn thing get to me, but she’s also completely unassuming. I could go on and on about all the different things that make up Joslyn Reynolds, and I still wouldn’t be able to describe how much I love her. Christ, I do.

  I’m struggling to comprehend that she isn’t just a figment of my imagination or that I’m not sitting here staring at one of her pictures instead of it really being her. The only words my brain can formulate right now is that I love her. They lie on t
he tip of my tongue, and if I don't tell her soon, those words are going to eat me up. How the years between us have been erased and left with a clear canvas to write upon I'll never know. I’m only thankful how we can be apart for so long, yet once we saw each other again, we morphed into one.

  “Missed you, missed your gorgeous face, your mouth. Christ, the things you can do with that mouth. Tell me you aren’t lying in bed wishing I weren’t with you. Tell me you don’t wish my hands were pulling on that ponytail while fucking you from behind. You can’t get enough of me the same way I can’t you. It was always that way, and you never had a problem with telling me to fuck you when you wanted it. Don’t be afraid to tell me anything, Joslyn. I want every part of you. So tell me, Joslyn, what is it you want to tell me now?” Her breathing picks up, and that’s when I know I have her right where I want her. Call me a bastard after what we just talked about, but I need to see her come unhinged one more time before I have her in my arms again.

  “I’m more than wishing you were here. Is this what you want to see?” She’s so out of breath when she speaks that I wish to hell I were there to capture her air. I can’t wait to get to the good part of this conversation; she’ll be breathless and panting by the time I’m finished with her.

  If it’s possible for my cock to get any harder, it does when she adjusts her laptop, drops the sheet, and exposes her full breasts. Her nipples are stiff and pebbled taut.

  “Fuck me. You have no idea how bad I want to be there with you now. Pinch your nipples. I need to hear you moan while I envision my hands are the ones touching you.” My voice is coming out in rough, breathless pants on its own.

  “You think you have me yielding to you, don’t you?” Oh, babe, I would much rather have you under me, but yes, I know how to work your mind in order to get your body to comply. Her heated eyes, her parted lips, and hoarse tone defy her will to try and overrule my command.