by Nikki Woods
Essence walked to the coffee table where she placed her cup, then hightailed it right back to where she was standing. She sniffed and patted at her wet cheeks with the backs of her hands.
Keela’s words had snapped me to attention. “To me?” I asked, pointing at my chest. “How the hell did I get into this?”
“Ever heard the saying, ‘when it rains, it pours’? Well, the storm has only just begun, right, Essence?” Keela was on her feet now, pacing back and forth, throwing cutting glances at Essence. “Either you tell her or I will,” she threatened.
Trying to figure out what to do, Essence stared at Keela, her eyebrows lifted, her eyes darkened and she twisted her hands together.
“Somebody better tell me something.” My back stiffened, I crossed my arms in front of me, and I tapped my toe, ticking off time as my head swiveled from Keela to Essence then back to Keela.
“Brandon’s not the only boyfriend that Essence has helped herself to,” Keela supplied as she placed her hand on my shoulder, bracing me for more. “Apparently she and Randy have spent quite a bit of time together. The initials on the card were R.B.” She turned her eyes to me. “ I’m sorry that I didn’t realize sooner that the card was from your Randy.”
I was on my feet lightening fast; and when she didn’t answer, I took a menacing step, forcing her to take a quick step back. “Essence?”
Her trembling hands flew to cover her face and she moved her head from side to side. “ It’s true,” she said, her head hung low.
“What do you mean, it’s true?” I felt as if I’d gotten in the way of a moving train. Flattened. “Do you realize what you’ve done?” I raged.
Instead of something resembling apologetic, Essence bristled. “Look, it’s this simple—Brandon and Randy were losers. I’d told you that over and again. I was beginning to sound like a broken record. I’d told you all the different ways I could and you still weren’t hearing me. I was getting sick of sitting around watching the two of you get hurt, so I took action. Seeing is believing right?” she asked, a wild look in her eyes.
My stomach lurched in disgust and I threw my hands up. “You sound crazy.”
“I was looking out for the two of you—my best friends. I couldn’t stand watching you in pain, hearing you cry over the phone; especially not over some no-good man.”
Yes, Essence sounded crazy—and looked crazy too, her eyes not only wild, but blurred over, hands in constant motion while trying to make her point.
“You’re the one causing the pain and the betrayal. It hurts twice as much coming from you, because we had faith in you. And you threw it away like it was yesterday’s trash. I never thought some man would come between us.” Keela’s eyes welled up again.
“So you’re going to let some men, who didn’t really want you anyway, break up our friendship?” Essence asked, exhaling loudly. “I did it for you guys. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“You didn’t do it for us. You did it for you. You’re a selfish, conceited woman who has no conscience. You’re the one who damaged this friendship. You don’t care who you hurt.” I waved my finger at her. “Something has really fucked you up along the way. I don’t know if it’s your parents’ relationship or if you have some kind of weird addictive behavior that prevents you from controlling your sexual impulses, but whatever it is, you need help.” When Essence didn’t respond, I shook my head. “You don’t get it, do you? You don’t think you did anything wrong?”
“You’re not even trying to understand what I’m saying,” Essence whined.
Keela’s eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing to understand. You’re wrong, own up to it. You’ve betrayed our trust. But I guess we should’ve known that if you’d do it to other women, you’d eventually do it to us.” She paused. “I just wanted to talk to you face to face, give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“And I appreciate that,” Essence said. “But what about Brandon and Randy? I didn’t do this alone.”
“Brandon and Randy have already been dismissed,” Keela said, her voice steady. “You were the last piece of business to be dealt with. We gave you a chance to say your piece, and now I’m done with it.” Keela started picking up long-forgotten coffee cups and crumb-filled napkins. “Kingston’s tired and needs to unpack.” She carried the items into the kitchen.
“Are you telling me to leave?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Keela retorted.
“I want to get this resolved,” Essence responded, her hands on her hips, before turning to me, “Kingston?”
“It’s not about you right now,” I said. When she suggested that we meet for breakfast, I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think so, Essence. We’ll call you when we’re ready to talk. Respect that.” I stood my ground and Essence assented, but I saw something else brewing in her eyes. I wasn’t sure if it was denial or anger, but to me it spelled trouble. She paused before turning sharply on one heel and walking down the stairs. Neither Keela nor I spoke until we heard the front door slam behind her.
“I am really sorry, Kingston,” she said as she turned on the water in the sink and began washing the dishes.
“There’s no reason for you to be sorry.” I waved off her apology, falling back onto the couch with a thud, my legs about as firm as Jello now. “I had my suspicions about Essence, but I couldn’t let myself go there, especially with no proof. I’m not tripping off Randy, but I hate feeling like a fool.” I dragged my hand through my hair. “My whole world has changed in the space of a few days. Yours, too, huh?” I hated the hollow feeling that was eating away at my insides. “So, what do we do now?”
“We just go on, I guess. What is it they say? Time heals all wounds? It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, but we’ll be fine.” Keela dried her hands on the towel hanging over the faucet before joining me in the living room. She squinted her eyes, then asked, “There’s nothing that you need to tell me, is there?” softening her question with a wink.
I laughed and hit her on the leg. “Hell, no. What about you?” Her laughter joined mine and soon we were howling so hard, tears streamed down, making our faces a soggy mixture of sour betrayal and sweet friendship.
Chapter 22
Clad in one of my old t-shirts, Keela spent the night, passing out in the guest room before the lights were off. For me, sleep did not come as easily. I let Cocoa out to use the bathroom, unpacked my suitcases, watched some TV, worked on my proposal for Scooby’s album, but still couldn’t wear myself out. After another hot shower, I crawled into bed. Stretched out, I lay on my back, then my side, then my stomach, turning my sheets into a tangled mess. When I did ease into sleep, it was restless, disturbed. Then, the phone rang, at three o’clock in the morning!
I said, “hello,” hesitantly, pulling the sheets over my head until they made a tent, feeling like I was fifteen again, sneaking in a phone call.
“Were you sleeping?” Golden brown honey, disguised in the form of a voice, glided over me.
I pushed my hair out of my face. “Damon?”
“Yes, baby. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“Uh, no, not really,” I stuttered, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “I was having some trouble falling asleep.”
“Still having nightmares?”
“Not since the other night. I think I’ve put Joanne to rest.”
“I’m glad. That’s just one less burden for you. You try to be so strong, Kingston.”
“Why are you calling, Damon?”
“Straight to the point, huh?” He chuckled. “I couldn’t sleep either and I needed to hear your voice. I miss you, Kingston.”
“Really?” I asked, not wanting to be pleased, but I was.
“I guess it would be too much to expect you to tell me that you feel the same way.”
My lips curved lightly. “Yes, that would be too much.”
“In time.” He was confident—overly so—but that confidence turned me on. “When are you coming back to Jamaica?”
“It seems like you’ve been gone forever. But forget about me, you have Mama Grace’s business to attend to. Trust me, everybody’s anxious to see what you’re going to do.”
“I know.” Groaning, I burrowed even further under the covers. “Dammit, my life is here. My career is starting to take off. How could Mama Grace expect me to pick up and leave? I have a house, friends . . .” I hesitated, my thoughts flickering to Essence. Disbelief and shock, the heavyweight contenders in the boxing ring that had become my life. I wanted to tell Damon everything, but was scared I’d be opening myself up to even more heartache.
“Maybe she knew where your heart really lies. Your spirit is Jamaican through and through. You should be here basking in the golden sunshine, swimming in the blue waters, shopping in the market place, continuing the legacy Mama Grace worked so hard to establish, and . . .” Damon’s statement hung in the air unfinished.
“Be there with you?” I asked.
“That, too,” he said, then added teasingly. “But that would be considered a perk.”
“You’re so damn arrogant.” I flipped over.
“Not arrogant, just sure. Sure about you. Us.”
I tried to force down the desire that was rising in me. But it just sat there swelling, expanding and threatening to consume. Just when I thought no words would escape, I asked, “ And what makes you so sure?” Even to me, my voice sounded seductive, and I wanted it that way, wanted him to be turned on as much as I was.
“Hmmmm, you sound delicious, sleepy and sexy at the same time. I want you here so I can make love to you until the sun rises, then sets again.” His words continued fanning the fire that had been ignited.
“What about your patients?”
“They can wait. I need a healing that only comes in the form of you.”
My heart jumped in my throat. I sat up and wrapped my arms around my naked legs. “ This is a bad idea.”
Damon sighed. “Whether you want to accept it or not, I still love you. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get you out of my mind. When I saw you again, all the feelings I had for you ten years ago came flooding back ten times stronger. The way you smell, the way you taste, the way you looked while I was making love to you in the hot tub.”
I closed my eyes and shared the same vision: Damon and I, water glistening in the moonlight, our bodies joined as one. My breath started coming in short pants, forbidden juices dampened my inner thighs.
“I can see the perfection of your nipples, feel the fullness of your breasts in my hands, remember how your legs wrapped themselves around me while I was buried deep inside of you. Jesus, Kingston, I’m getting hard just thinking about it, thinking about you.”
I licked my lips and imagined it was Damon’s tongue tracing their outline. I closed my eyes, gripping the phone as if it were my lifeline and squeezed my legs together, trying to contain an explosion that just might be inevitable.
“What are you doing?” Damon’s voice sounded muffled as if he were fumbling with the phone.
“Listening,” I answered weakly.
“Can you imagine me there next to you? Kissing you? Touching you?” he asked.
And when I answered, “Mmmm hmmm,” I knew I had crossed the threshold of no return. My pulse quickened with every word that floated from his mouth.
“Will you touch yourself for me? Run your hand over your breasts and your nipples, slowly. Do that for me.”
I groaned as I followed his instructions, an overwhelming need to please and comfort him took over, just as he was pleasing me.
“Good,” Damon murmured. “Can you feel my lips on your breast, my tongue teasing your nipple?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak; still not quite willing to let myself totally go.
“Kingston?”
“I’m here,” I said softly.
“Now your belly. I remember how sweet your belly was—sweet and ripe like a mango—how I loved kissing it, tracing the fine line of hair with my finger; it starts at your belly button, then leads me to paradise.” He inhaled. “Move your hand lower. Imagine my warm tongue licking you wherever your hand goes. Does that feel good? All I want to do is make you feel good.”
My hand hit the target and I groaned, moving my hand lower still. My knees clenched together, trembling, trying to stand strong in a battle that couldn’t possibly be won.
“It’s okay, Kingston,” Damon offered, sensing my hesitation. “I’m here with you and never plan on letting you go again. Now move your hand lower. That’s a good girl. You’re so hot and wet, so ready for me. It’s only for me, right, Kingston? It’s all mine, right? Let me hear you say it.”
“It’s all yours, Damon,” I repeated, trying hard not to explode, although holding it inside was killing me.
When he asked, “Remember what it was like for me to be inside of you?” my resolve broke and I couldn’t hold back any longer. The pressure was building faster than the speed of light; the ache between my legs so overwhelming that I had to let go. “Oh God, Damon,” I cried as the dam broke, turning my head into the pillow to suppress my sobs.
“Give yourself to me, Kingston, like you did in the hot tub.” This time it was Damon who groaned and I knew he was in the same predicament as me. “Oh, God!” he echoed with such animal ferocity that it triggered something more in me and I let go again—jumping on the roller coaster ride with him, diving over the edge, hand in hand. All of the pent up anger, frustration, sadness, and desire rolled themselves into a huge, red ball spinning wildly before it got so hot that it simply disintegrated. And I lay spent, still clutching the phone in my sweaty palm, inhaling my own musky odor and listening to Damon’s heavy breathing.
Eventually, my breathing slowed and my body floated gently back to earth. I blocked the regrets that pushed at my brain and dried my face with the blanket. “Damon?”
“Yes, love?”
“No matter how much I try to stop wanting you, I only end up wanting you more,” I admitted, pushing damp hair from my face.
“What are you so scared of?” Damon’s voice was quiet, reassuring, and I melted again. “
Being hurt like I was before.”
“It won’t happen again, Kingston. It’s different now.”
“Yes. It is different now. So different you wouldn’t even believe.” I closed my eyes, steeled myself, then placed the phone back in its cradle and curled into a ball, pulling the covers over my head. Thoughts still raced through my mind, but my body was drained; and as proven just minutes earlier, the body sometimes wins the battle over the mind. And soon, blackness edged out the light.
* * *
The nutty aroma of fresh coffee brewing woke me long before I was ready. The sweet, buttery smell of waffles mingled with the smokehouse scent of frying bacon had me reaching for my robe. I grimaced as my bare feet hit the cold, hardwood floor. I trudged into the bathroom to splash some water on my face, then brushed my teeth while thoughts of what had occurred in the past forty-eight hours slowly came back to me.
The weight and pressure that had been heaped on my shoulders from all directions settled firmly back on like a familiar coat. Damn, I should have stayed in bed.
Keela smiled as I walked into the kitchen, her expanding waistline was cinched by an apron. Her enthusiastic, “morning,” was even brighter.
“Yeah, yeah,” I replied, reaching for the coffeepot. The fresh brew was still perking, but I pulled it from the warmer anyway and poured a steaming cup as drips of coffee hit the hot burner with a satisfying sizzle. I doctored it up and after a passionate slurp, I was fit for company. “ Good Morning.”
“That’s more like it.” Keela grabbed a plate and started piling on scrambled eggs, waffles, and strips of bacon. “Hungry?” she asked after the fact, setting the full plate on the high round glass table occupyin
g one corner of the kitchen. Silverware wrapped in a paper napkin and a small glass of fresh orange juice soon joined it. This was better than service in a restaurant.
“Aren’t you eating?” Spearing a nice chunk of the fluffy egg mixture, I jammed it in my mouth, followed quickly by a piece of bacon. “Hmmmmm, just the way I like them.” I doused the waffles with syrup and was halfway through them before Keela sat down with her own plate. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” I mumbled around another mouthful of bacon. I broke off a burnt end and dropped it into Cocoa’s open mouth.
“I figured that. You haven’t had much time to eat or do anything else.”
“True.” I smeared the last piece of waffle across the plate and soaked up the remaining syrup. “It’s been hectic for both of us.” I paused, looking at the icicles hanging from the outside balcony, melting under the persistence of the mid-morning sun. “You hangin’ in there?”
She pursed her lips before taking a sip of orange juice. “A good night’s sleep and a hot breakfast can make the worst situation seem a whole lot better. My dad used to say that all the time. I lost the father of my baby and my best friend at the same time. I think that qualifies as the worst situation.”
“It’s not like they died,” I pointed out.
“No, it’s worse, ‘cause I can’t bury their asses without going to jail!” She giggled before rising and clearing the table.
“No, let me,” I said, finishing off the last of my coffee. “You cooked so I’ll clean up.” I loaded the dishwasher and powered it up. Leaning one hip against the countertop, I contemplated another cup of coffee.