Jahleel

by S. Ann Cole

Just like every other morning for the past 5 plus years, this morning was no different: I woke up madly in love with Jahleel Kingston. Not only that, but I was flat-out happy.

  It had taken a long time, but the feat was now accomplished. Jahleel was now mine. My man. We were in a relationship. An exclusive relationship. And though it was kiddish to believe in promises, I believed him when he promised me he’d never hurt me again.

  There was just one thing hanging over our heads: My tour. Which was in two weeks. The timing couldn’t have been more off. After finally coming together, I was about to leave him for six months.

  Yep, believing in exclusivity and promises was definitely foolish.

  I had a long day of rehearsals. Planning and training stretched out before me, so I spared no time grabbing a shower, donning sweat pants, cropped tank and low-top Chucks. I bundled my mass of hair atop my head, snagged my messenger bag and sunglasses and headed downstairs.

  Amanda and Ferbie were already dressed and waiting, messing around in the living area. Or more like Amanda messing with Ferbie.

  My beloved brother was looking fresher, sprightlier, happier than I’d ever seen him. Of late, he’d been MIA quite a bit. Ever since he bought that darn bike, he’d been attracting female attention like ants to crumbs. Apparently chicks dig guys who straddled bikes.

  I came home tired one evening and saw two girls I didn’t know from Adam lounging in my living room. No need to ask if I went radge on Ferbie.

  Since then, he spent most nights out with his groupies. At one point, I’d gotten paranoid that he might be squandering his money to impress these girls, but when I tracked his spending, it was used mostly on hotel rooms and food, far below the daily limit I gave him. When I ask asked him about it, he only spared, “JK taught me the works.”

  Whatever ‘works’ JK taught him kept him sensible, so I let him be.

  “I see you’ve remembered your address,” I greeted Ferbie, skipping up to him and throwing my arms around his neck. “Give me snog!”

  Grinning wide, he kissed both my cheeks before pulling from my tight embrace.

  “Ma,” he said with a determined expression as we headed for the door. “There’s someone who wants to meet you.”

  My gaze shifted to Amanda who had her lips folded, holding back something, then back to Ferbie. “I have no time for your opportunist biker babes, Ferbie.”

  “No, no,” he protested quickly. “Madame Viper isn’t like that.”

  A startled laugh got caught somewhere in my throat, while Amanda smacked Ferbie on the back on his head.

  Ferbie yelped, “Ow!” at the same time I squeaked, “Madame Viper?” at the same Amanda reprimanded, “You don’t go around calling her that, you plonker!”

  As Ferbie started to speak, Amanda put her hand over his mouth to shut him up, then apprised me, quietly, “Your sycophantic brother has found himself a Domme. Ten years his senior who is—for all things beyond my understanding in this weird world—insanely in love with him.”

  My eyes narrowed on Amanda. “You took him to that bloody freak club, didn’t you?”

  “It’s not a ‘freak club’,” she defended. “And he was annoying the crap out of me one night about being bored, so I tagged him along with me.”

  “And now I’m supposed to just accept that my brother’s a submissive to some senior citizen called Madame Viper?”

  Ferbie tried to speak behind Amanda’s hand, but she pointed a firm finger at him. “Shut up.”

  I smacked her hand from off him. “He’s not your sub, so don’t put your hand on him or talk to him like that!”

  “Right, because if my sub ever mentioned me by my play name in public, I’d beat him black and blue.”

  Oh Christ. This whole thing was absurd.

  “Anyway,” Amanda continued in topic, “Whether you want to accept it or not, Ferbie is naturally submissive. Sade is only thirty-eight and, by some miracle, she’s smitten with him.”

  “Am I supposed to believe that?”

  Amanda waved her hand in the general direction of the door. “The proof is outside.”

  Casting her a glare, then one at Ferbie, I marched out of the house.

  Parked next to the water fountain was a brand new, matte black Lamborghini.

  “Wow. She bought him a Lambo… Don’t you think this is a little extreme?” I muttered to Amanda who drew up beside me.

  She shrugged. “Sade’s filthy. Her late husband was an Internet Billionaire. Everything went to her. Plus she was well-off before him.”

  Turning to Ferbie who was standing on the other side of me, I asked him, “Are you happy?”

  His grin blinded me. “Aye, Ma. More than ever.”

  Oh, so he was back to saying ‘Aye’ now. Ole Madame Viper must love that.

  I moved in and hugged him tight, whispering in his ear, “That’s all I ever wanted for you.”

  Thomas rolled up with the Phantom and stepped out to open the door for us.

  I gaily clapped my hands and rubbed them together. “Okay, let’s kick the hell out of this day.”

  As I made my way to the car, Amanda grabbed my arm, letting Ferbie go ahead of us. “With that bounce in your step and that dimple which only comes out when you’re superduper-deliriously-happy, I take it some sticking it in the poy yoi finally went down last night?”

  As I tried not to grin like a goof, I replied, “Maybe?”

  Amanda raised a brow. “So? How was it? Does he live up to the hype?”

  Emitting a Cinderella sigh, I murmured, “No words, Manda. I have no words,” and bounced off to the waiting vehicle, Amanda laughing behind me.

  “You fuckin’ focused?”

  I flinched and grimaced at the familiar voice. Lion.

  Mouth latched on to my water bottle, I twisted around in the direction of the voice. He stood behind me on the stage where I sat at the edge, legs dangling, as I took a break from tour rehearsals.

  Impeccably and uncharacteristically dressed in a sharp charcoal suit, his stance was neutral despite his hard asked question.

  “Don’t I look focused?” I croaked out.

  His eyes widened a fraction, and his worried expression took over his features. “The hell’s wrong with your voice?”

  I didn’t want to see him freak out, so I turned back around, telling him, “I might have pushed a little too hard on a note during rehearsals?”

  “Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

  “Look, Lion,” I twisted around to assure him, “no need to freak out, okay? Nadine says I should just lip-sync through rehearsals to prevent it from getting worse. No big deal.”

  With a sharp shake of his head, he glowered at me. “You’re not focused.”

  But I knew what his real worry was. Jahleel. Me being less focused on work and more hung up on Jahleel. Me blowing off the tour at last minute. Me giving up…everything.

  “Trust me, I’m very focused.” And high. And ecstatic. And euphoric. And in love.

  After giving me the glare down for another long minute, he had no choice but to take my word for it. He came over to sit beside me on the edge of the high stage and threw an arm around my shoulders, our legs dangling.

  All the occupants of the vast room were slumped in a seat somewhere, either stuffing their faces with crap food or fiddling around on gadgets.

  “What’s up with the suit?” I asked Lion, motioning up and down the length of his body with my water bottle.

  He regarded his attire with distaste. “I sat in on a huge meeting with a friend this mornin’.”

  Good friend here in SF and not LA? Hmmm… “This JK, yeah?”

  Instead of answering the question, he inquired, “Things workin’ out with you two?”

  “I love him.”

  “And this is a secret?” he said, laughing.

  Toying with my water bottle, I stared off in the distance at nothing. “He doesn’t want to hear it.”

  Lion’s arm tightened around me. “You just blurted it out, d
idn’t you?”

  When he got no response from me, he bumped me with his shoulder, saying, “JK’s not that kinda man, Kia. You have to be patient and wait for him. You try to shove somethin’ like that down his throat, he won’t know if he should chew it slowly, swallow it whole, or savor it on his tongue. So his first response always will be to spit it out.”

  “Wait?” I whined. “I’ve been waiting for over five years.”

  “So it shouldn’t hurt you to wait just a little longer, right?” he said, pushing his point.

  “He agreed to exclusivity…” I trailed off and dropped my gaze, studying the peace sign on my sweats. “But I’m going on tour in two weeks. For six months. How can I be sure he’ll remain faithful to me?”

  “He won’t,” Lion stated. As simple as that. “This ain’t a romance novel or a feel-good movie with perfect people in perfect relationships, Kia. This is real life where people have needs that, most of the time, they give in to.”

  Lion’s straightforward words knocked a gasp out of me, and the back of my eyes burned with threatening tears.

  Squeezing his arm tight around me, he continued, “Hol’ up, now… speaking as a man who’s been there and done that, I’ll tell you this: a fuck is just a fuck. Some time, while you’re away, he’s gonna feel like fuckin’, and he will fuck. But, if you’re in his heart, his mind, his thoughts, no matter what bitch he’s fuckin’, your face is the face he’s gonna see.”

  “But…But I’ve never seen you cheat on Twana. You never even look at another woman.”

  Lion released a bark of laughter, as if I’d given him the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “Four years I’ve been schoolin’ you, and you ain’t learnt nothing?” He shook his head and guffawed harder.

  When I narrowed my eyes at him, he sobered up, confessing, “T’s my whole life. I’m nothing without her. I love her with every part of me. She’s my queen. But, Kia, whenever I’m away from her for too long and I wanna fuck, I fuck. You don’t see that ‘cause I’m good at hidin’ my shit. You can be the devil disguised as Jesus if you know how to keep things on ‘da DL, Kia.”

  Mouth agape, all I managed was, “Wow. You’re good. Lord knows you had me fooled.”

  He waved me off, saying, “Anyway, back to your earlier question, yes the friend was JK.”

  “This meeting was about the dance show, wasn’t it? Is he getting it?”

  Lion dismissively waved the question away. “The job was JK’s from the start. They’re just holdin’ off the announcement for publicity. Prolonging the suspense.”

  “You think so?”

  The look he gave told me I had asked a dumb question. Of course, Lion knew everything. “The show needs JK to up their in-da -toilet ratings. Everybody’s talkin’ about him. He’s young, he’s got that look…you ladies”—he nudged me—”think he’s ‘fine as hell’, and he can dance his ass off. They’ve gotta bring him in if they’re serious about bringin’ back the show.”

  He gave me a pointed look now.

  “So this means, even if I wasn’t touring, he’d be off traveling for auditions and acclimating to this new venture,” I mused.

  “Exactly,” Lion said. “So the timing couldn’t be more off for you two.”

  Sighing, I dropped my head on his shoulder. “But I can still hope, right?”

  He chuckled. “Stop bein’ so dramatic. Everything’ll work itself out.”

  “Lion?” I mumbled, leaning into his side.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you. For everything.”

  Although he didn’t do well in emotional moments, he patted my arm. “I try to make good on my promises.”

  I loved him more than I did my own delinquent parents. God knows, he looked out for me more than they were ever capable of doing. He was stern when he needed to be, gentle and comforting when that was fitting. He never once judged my obsession with Jahleel. He just guided me through it all. And just like he said, he did come through on his promises.

  He promised me the world, and I had it.

  I spent the next couple of days wrapped up in Jahleel. Each day was the same: rehearsals, planning, and all things Jahleel Kingston.

  Knowing and accepting the fact he would probably be unfaithful during my absence, I spent as much time with him as possible, leaving my mark, my scent, my imprint, so if he did cheat, he’d be thinking of me.

  After taking some time to think about what Lion said, I had to admit, six months was a long time for a man to go sexless. Sucks big time for me, nonetheless. But I figured it was better for me to know and anticipate possible unfaithfulness, than to worry endlessly about it while on tour, nagging him with suspicious questions and letting it affect my mood and focus when I should be giving my all on stage.

  Le sigh. Sometimes it made sense for people in my position not to have relationships.

  Jahleel was still an insensitive tosser sometimes, but his mood switches were far and in between. Anyway, I was getting used to him. Plus, for some inexplicable reason, it affected him greatly whenever I told him I hated him, so sometimes—and I chose those times wisely—I used it as a weapon.

  Worked like a charm.

  Two weeks slipped by faster than a cheetah in the night, and then it was the night before I left for tour. I had to board my bus by six the next morning. As a result, activities squeezed my day so tightly, I barely had time to breathe.

  This was also the day Jahleel’s position to judge on Dancin’ 2da’ Beat was announced. I got a whiff of this news through Amy and Jamie’s giggles of gossip, but I hadn’t been able to call or text Jahleel to congratulate him. So strung out, I didn’t even have a clue where my cellphone was.

  By the time all the rush slowed into quietness, it was almost 11pm. Stacey, my assistant, brought me my cellphone and I spared not another second in having Thomas take me to Jahleel’s.

  On the drive there, I checked my notifications. From Jahleel, were 32 missed calls leading up to half-an-hour ago, and two text messages; one saying he got the position on the show, and the other saying he wanted to do something special with me before I left—sent earlier in the day.

  Tried ringing him back a couple of times, but got no answer. Neither was his bike home when Thomas dropped me off at his house, so I let myself in with the spare key he gave me—oh yes, he went there!

  Dumping my stuff on his bed, I made a beeline for the clinical all-white bathroom and had me a long shower, washing away the muck and weariness of the day. I was knackered to the point of drowsiness, but I had to spend my last hours in SF with Jahleel.

  When I emerged from the shower, my phone was lighting up on the bed. I ran to snatch it up and saw five missed calls from Jahleel. When I tried ringing him back he didn’t pick up, even though his last call was less than a minute ago. Ridiculous.

  A few minutes later while I dressed, my phone pinged with a message from him:

  What?

  ——

  Where r u?

  ___ ___

  Out.

  ——

  K. When will u b home?

  ___ ___

  Home? Leave.

  ——

  Wut?

  ___ ___

  LEAVE.

  I won’t b there.

  Did he really expect me to leave without seeing him? What was he out doing that he couldn’t spare a few hours with me?

  Dialling off his number, I rang him back, but he wouldn’t pick up. I rang and rang until I started yawning.

  Flipping back the covers on his bed, I slid beneath them and dozed off.

  The dinning of my cellphone pulled me from semi-consciousness, but by the time I found the phone under the sheets, it stopped ringing. A missed call from Jahleel. Yet, when I rang him back, there was no answer.

  Maybe it was because I was knackered, frustrated and needed him like a new-born needed its milk, or just plain pissed I wouldn’t see him before I left, I don’t know, but I sent him an irate message:

  Am.tired.of.ur.shi
t

  So u kno wut?

  Fuq.U!!!

  __ __

  Bitchy Sassy?

  U know how I feel about her.

  Breathe easy.

  Raging like a bull about to take off, I paced, ringing him again and again. No answer. Eventually, I collapsed on the bed and nodded off.

  From the depths of my sleep, I heard the loud rumbling of Jahleel’s bike pulling up outside. He was home. The anticipation jolted me upright.

  Springing out of bed, I ran out of the room like a kid on Christmas morning to meet him at the door. But as I turned the hall corner, I skidded to a halt in shock at seeing Jahleel all but crashing through the front door.

  With Krissy.

  My heart fainted.

  Unaware of nothing but themselves, they were a fever of lips and tongues and hands. Voraciously grabbing and mauling each other.

  Krissy gripped his jacket and dragged him with her, walking backwards into the kitchen from the front entrance.

  “Your room,” Jahleel muttered before they disappeared from my line of sight.

  Unsure of how my feet were even functioning, I stepped into the kitchen from the bottom entrance.

  “No,” Krissy said, a deep urgency in her soft, deceitful voice. “Can’t wait. I want you now.”

  Both still oblivious to me standing at the other end of the kitchen—because they were that lost in each other—Jahleel pulled back from her a little. “Krissy, not like this.”

  “We can make love later,” she insisted, moving in to close the slip of distance Jahleel put between them. “Right now, I want you to fuck me.”

  A lump the size of a baseball clogged my throat, but I ignored it, too riveted, painfully so, on what unfolded before me.

  “Dammit,” Jahleel swore under his breath. “I don’t want—”

  “Please, JK,” Krissy begged in a voice heavy with need, but lacking true, genuine passion. She didn’t love him. She was using him. The manipulative bitch. “Just…just let me feel…you.”

  As if finally sensing me, Jahleel’s eyes flicked up over Krissy’s head and landed on me.

  Dumbfounded, heartbroken, immobile, I just stared at him staring at me, revealing all I was feeling, while he revealed nothing but apology.