Jaded 2: Broken Love Series

by Renee Tyler

  L’oriel told me that she’d started classes. She spoke with so much animation when telling me about her classes, and that she was closer to graduation than she thought. Joy was beaming through her. I was so proud of her. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her as she then told me about her promotion. I wish I picked a fancier restaurant; she has quite a few accomplishments that are deserving of a proper celebration. Of course, unbeknownst to me, I didn’t know about her current celebratory endeavors. I just wanted to keep things light between us. I knew I’d messed up by not calling, and I didn’t want to seem as if I was immediately trying to put us back to where we were.

  When she pulls up the sleeves to her blazer as she gets ready to cut her chicken, I noticed a tattoo on her inner wrist that definitely wasn’t there before. I tilted my head to the side to see if I could get a better look. “So you got ink? What is it?” She finishes chewing her food.

  “It’s Adinkra.” When she saw my brow furrow in confusion, she continued. “Adinkra symbols are African symbols that were created by the Akan. The symbols represent concepts. For instance, the symbol that I have represents hope, providence, and faith. It means “By God’s Grace, All Will Be Well.” I reached across the table for her wrist so that I could inspect her art better. There wasn’t great detail in the symbol, as with tribal art. It had a heart shape with a darkened outline. A black outlined circle was centered inside, with four triangles inside of the circle; then the circle had four rays that touched the inner lines of the heart. I did appreciate the expression; certainly by God’s grace, all will be well. L’oriel was very proud of her African roots, so I wasn’t surprised that she’d chosen to have her first tattoo represent that.

  Dinner was better than I could have expected; our conversation flowed, and we laughed and talked. I even told L’oriel my issues with one of my veteran groups. Complex was a two-girl group; they were the first artists Reggie and I signed. They were hugely successful when they first came out in 2003. They had exceptional achievement that year, despite Beyoncé dropping her debut album as a solo artist the same month. We released their debut single then album, which went platinum.

  Both members of Complex had a child a piece since their debut in 2003, and hadn’t been on the scene for a minute. Now they wanted to get back out here. The dilemma was, they wanted to change up their sound a bit. They’re known for melodic tunes, dance tracks, and female anthems. They now want to do at least one power-driven ballad. However, neither of them possessed any power in their voices. Though their success had put Reggie and me on the map, they were known for their beauty and dance moves, and less for their voices. I think they should stay in their lane. Nevertheless, they weren’t trying to hear that. They asked that I write and produce this ballad that was supposed to re-introduce them to the world. Me writing and producing is never a problem. I wrote a song that they love, but they haven’t been able to deliver on the vocals. I’ve re-arranged the song as much as I’m comfortable with in order to maintain the song’s integrity. If they want to sing my song, they’re going to have to step up.

  I confided in L’oriel that Reggie typically handled any conflicts that would arise in this area. He would often mediate between me and the artist. If they didn’t see my vision or point of view, he was good at smoothing things over with either myself or the artist. I’m not inflexible. I never want to stifle my artist; however, sometimes they don’t see the bigger picture. Dealing with moody, stubborn artists wasn’t my strong suit.

  I was good with the business; making sure we stayed on track, ensuring that sales, marketing, and PR worked together to get us to our expected quarterly and yearly revenue. Then of course, I still wrote and produced.

  When we started this record company, I never saw it without Reggie. I knew my strengths, and one of them wasn’t getting an artist to see my vision, especially when it was so close to me. I don’t perform in front of thousands of people. However, those people will hear my music - my words. Just like the artist, I have a vision for where I see my art. Sometimes when an artist and producer aren’t seeing the same vision, a mediator is needed. Reggie was that. I respected his opinion and he respected my art. When I’m in the booth, it’s hard for me to wear my CEO hat and I need someone who can keep me on track.

  I hadn’t been successful in filling Reggie’s position particularly for that reason. Reggie wasn’t scared of me. He didn’t let my sometimes harsh and controlling demeanor deter him. I trusted him to look out for the artist, and also to look out for the company—well, until recently.

  “I have no doubt that you’ll find someone who believes in your vision. However, if they aren’t bringing your song to life the way you envision it, is it difficult to bring in another producer? Maybe he or she could help the track fit their vocals or change the direction all together.” I couldn’t help but smile at her. I have to admit, I have a tendency to try and do everything myself. I’m known for having my hands in a bit of everything. I didn’t have the success that I had by not being that way, but if Reggie was still around that’s exactly what he would have done by now.

  “No baby, it’s not,” she beamed. “See there you go. I’ll give you that one. The next time, I’m charging.” She smiled over her straw as she took a sip of her drink.

  “Whatever, little girl. You ready to get out of here and go bowl?” I pulled out my wallet and placed enough money for the food and generous tip, then stood behind her chair to pull it out so she could stand. We walked through the restaurant to the valet with our hands intertwined. I almost chuckled out loud. I haven’t held hands since I was in grade school. It just shows how much I’ve already invested in renewing our relationship. When the valet pulls my car to the front, I open the door for L’oriel.

  “So, old man. Maybe I can give you a few pointers on bowling too,” she tosses over her shoulder. I can’t help myself. I smack her ass and she slides into the car as I hold the door. She yelps, but those green eyes immediately turned murky. Yeah…

  Chapter 6

  L’oriel

  “What do you mean it just happened? Getting with married people doesn’t just happen, Charity.”

  Charity plays with the hem of her shirt as we sit on my couch drinking wine, and finally catching up on her dating a married man.

  “It means I didn’t plan it. I didn’t intentionally go after him. We kept being at the same places. Do you remember when we took you to that club and Troy carried you out and knocked Brad out?” I nodded my head. “Well, that was the first time we ran into each other. I’d went to the bathroom and when I came out, we literally ran into one another and he just stared at me for the longest time, then he finally said You’re beautiful. Butterflies were released immediately. After that, we just keep seeing each other at different places, and he keep saying how beautiful he thought I was; and then one day, I don’t know, we exchanged numbers and started talking. He’s such a good person; he makes me laugh. After some time, we really began to feel each other, and I couldn’t resist what I was feeling anymore. I’ve never had someone treat me the way he does.”

  I take a deep breath. “So you’re telling me that you fell for a married man because he said you’re beautiful. I tell you that all the time, are you ready to be with me too?” She rolls her eyes at me. “Charity. I’ve been on the other side, and there’s nothing you can say that’ll make me see things differently,” I say with a little more agitation in my voice than I mean. It’s just this really hits home for me.

  “Oh really, Miss. Judgmental, weren’t you fucking Troy when you were still married to Shane?” My mouth drops open. I can’t believe her. She knows damn well I’d left my husband with no intentions of returning. However, I see where she’s was trying to go.

  “First of all, Charity. Our situations aren’t the same. I knew my marriage was over. I know you didn’t make a play for Calvin. Just like I didn’t initially go after Troy. However, he’s very married and living with his wife. They were just at an event together a couple of weeks ago. Or
how about Thanksgiving is coming up. Who’s he going to be with? His wife Charity. You won’t get holidays, or any time that you want him to be available. She will come first. Hell, as much as Shane cheated, I still got preferential treatment. Those other women got whatever was left.”

  Tears rolled down Charity’s face. Damn, I didn’t mean for this conversation to bring her to tears. I hated to see Charity upset. However, I couldn’t keep an open mind when I knew he was living with and I’m sure still sleeping with his wife. Being that wife that was cheated on with women like Charity who didn’t care made it hard for me to sympathize or understand Charity’s relationship. By cheating, my husband made those other women feel like they had a place in our lives. When he’d sleep around, whether he knew it or not, he allowed those women to feel like they were his wife too, that they had just as much say in our lives as I did, and they let me know that too.

  I loved my grandmother, but didn’t respect her decision to be with my grandfather knowing he was a married man. My grandmother wore her badge of second place proudly. I see so much of that in Charity right now, believing she isn’t in the same situation that so many other women find themselves in. She’s not the exception, but she feels like it. She was so excited to be in his arms that night we went to the club. That was how my grandmother was; so excited with any additional time my grandfather could spare away from his first family. I was trying to have an open mind, but I’d been on the other side of that.

  “I know, Laurie. I know. I just. Oh. God. I don’t know. I just love him so much. He makes me feel so beautiful, so good, and so happy. I’ve never had anyone make me feel so treasured.”

  “Charity. Cheaters always make the other woman feel treasured, so they can continue to get what they want and keep you quiet. That’s why you can’t even go there with them. You knew what you were walking into. His wife is on his arm all the time. So is he telling you their relationship is over?”

  She shook her head no, then buried her face in her hands. I put my wine on the cocktail table and kneeled in front of Charity.

  “Honey. What makes you think you aren’t worthy of your very own man that makes you feel treasured? Because he’s hers – he doesn’t belong to you. He isn’t even lying to you. You’re willingly walking into this relationship, which is highly likely not to end in you favor.”

  I love Charity, and I know that Marcus’ words that night were about me accepting Charity’s decision to be with a married man, for me to be a supportive friend despite her decision. I’m trying to wrap my mind around this. However, I can’t sugar coat the situation to appease her. She needs to face reality.

  I know I got into a relationship with someone else while I was still married, and biblically I was wrong. I shouldn’t have even considered a relationship until my marriage was completely dissolved. However, I didn’t feel as if I was cheating on Shane, because in my mind the relationship was over. When I drove away from Detroit, I was leaving my marriage behind me. Also, I didn’t seek out a relationship; it found me. All those times I’d left before it was to clear my head because I knew I was going back to give him another chance. I didn’t take that time to cheat and find someone else. I took that time to see if I could forgive his indiscretions and move on.

  How do I get past my friend knowingly getting involved with a married man? In addition to her running the possibility of breaking up a home? I wondered if LovingMeTee and the other women that Shane cheated on me with felt remorse, or even regret in regards to messing with a married man. I know many of them didn’t appear remorseful. They wanted to fight me as if I’d somehow wronged them by being his wife. With me being a woman and being Charity’s friend, I couldn’t in good faith allow her to continue this path without letting her know that I don’t agree with it. I love my friend. However, this decision she’s made, I can’t agree with. I don’t know how I’m going to react if I have to continue being around her and Calvin; then to know they had sex outside my house makes me feel like I’m somehow involved, or that I agree with their relationship.

  “Look Char. I want you to know I love you, but I come from a grandmother who’s been a side woman for over forty years. My grandfather still hasn’t left his wife. My grandmother gets her leftovers. She gets her leftover furniture, cars, and time. As your friend, I don’t want that for you. My grandfather never spent a holiday with us. We always had the day before or the day after. Sometimes he’d take his wife out of town, and we wouldn’t see him until they returned. You know what else? My grandmother has never been the places his wife has been. He can’t be away from home long. I don’t want that for you. You shouldn’t want it for yourself.”

  Charity looked down on me with her eyes and nose red, and nodded her head. I knew I’d lost this battle. I saw the same look in my grandmother’s eyes when my aunt and uncles would beg her to leave their father because he wouldn’t leave his family to be with theirs. She’d give that same nod that says I understand how you feel, but this is my life and my love, and I’ll take it however it comes to me. There was only one thing left for me to do; try and find a way to live with her decision. I’d done it with my grandmother and my mom. I should be able to do it with my friend.

  ῀

  L’oriel

  Troy and I were sitting in his theater room, and I was trying to keep the butterflies out of my stomach but every time I thought about the last time we were in here, my stomach fluttered and my sex clenched. I was surprised he couldn’t smell my arousal, because my panties were soaked.

  “L’oriel, are you listening to me?” He places the neck of the bottle of his beer near his lips, then pauses and waits for me to answer. When I don’t respond, he continues. “You coming early to help cook, or are you staying the night?” He pushes the neck of his beer to his full lips and takes a sip. I envy that beer. I tell myself I’m not having sex with Troy, at least not until he asks me to be his girl again. If I spend the night at his house in any of his beds, I’ll become tempted. I don’t want to deal with temptation.

  “I’m just going to come over early and help Kim and Grum-Grum.” Troy was literally giving me the side eye. I could see his mind reeling, trying to figure out why I’m trying so hard to keep him away. I’d agreed to help his aunt and grandmother cook Thanksgiving dinner. I’d also agreed to go out of town with him for my birthday, the following day.

  Troy and I have been hanging out as much as our schedules will allow since our date a few weeks ago. I’ve been avoiding being in close quarters with him. However, today I really wanted to see him, but I had to study so we decided on a quiet night in. Even though I’m done studying, I still have my books between us on the couch.

  Troy stretches and puts his popcorn on the end table.

  “What’s up little girl? You plan on telling me what’s going on?” My heart rate immediately increases, because I know I’m not going to be able to avoid this conversation. I’d never had to tell a man what I want before. I know what I want, but how do I tell him? How do I express myself and tell him I want to be his lady, and what I want and expect from our relationship? I want him to want what I want, and I want him to say it. I try to feign ignorance.

  “What do you mean?” He chuckles, but his eyes are serious.

  “Don’t play games with me, L’oriel. You know what I mean. You got books and shit all between us, and you so pressed into the other end of the sofa it’s almost sucking you in. You’ve been with me a lot lately, but avoiding any serious contact. Why?” He states staring at me, awaiting my reply. He’s put the ball in my court. I know what he’s doing. He’s purposely handing over the control. I keep emphasizing what I want. He’s forcing me to woman up and say what I want, and what I need from him. However, I don’t want control right now. I feel like a perplexed pre-teen who says they want to be treated as an adult. However, still wanting coddling, I want him to hold my hand and walk me through this. I want him to say he wants me, and then I can respond. I stare into his intense gaze.

  “I. Just. I. Want
,” I attempt. Rolling my eyes to keep the tears from falling that were pricking my eyes, I suddenly couldn’t give him eye contact. All of this growth I felt that I was making, and I couldn’t tell this man that I had deep feelings for that I wanted him. I started picking the fringes on my ripped jeans. When I finally looked up again, Troy was sitting beside me and my books and folders were on the floor. My heart dropped and my mouth flew open. I didn’t even know he’d moved next to me.

  “Talk to me baby. What do you want?” Tears finally fall. He reaches up and wipes my tears with his thumb. He kisses each of my eyes, cheeks, chin, and forehead—everywhere except my lips. “What do you want?” he murmurs close to my mouth, still not making contact. I gave a shuttering breath; emotions that I never knew existed began to churn in my stomach, an aching need to not let this moment pass without telling him how I feel.

  “You,” I whispered.

  “You have me, baby. I am yours, and you are mine.” He presses his forehead into mine. “You have no idea how much you mean to me?” I shake my head no. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even begin to put into words the fullness that I felt. I didn’t have experience with feeling wanted, needed, or desired; feeling those things from someone that you love, someone who makes you feel that they feel the same brings about a lot of emotion.

  “Can I show you? And I’d rather not make love to you on the sofa,” he says as he stares into my eyes. When I nod my head yes, Troy stands and grabs my hands, and pulls me from my spot tucked on the edge of the couch. We hold hands and walk up the stairs into the kitchen; when we enter the hall, he suddenly stops.

  “What the fuck?” he bellows so loud I freeze in fear, then I notice movement near the couch and see Jason standing naked, with his long penis glistening. I quickly turn my head and close my eyes. I can’t believe I just saw Troy’s little brother’s penis. I was trying really hard not to think about why these men are blessed with looks and a package, and I’m totally in shock that I saw some girl’s naked ass.