Karla felt like getting out of bed and leaving the room that Daniel had rented for them. She’d had the conversation with him enough times to know where it would lead. He wasn’t ready to leave hustling or even to put his street skills to good use for the revolution. So, by all rights, she shouldn’t have even been still messing around with him.
The first thing she learned when she joined the freedom fighters was that sisters had to make brothers accountable by giving up the loving when they were on the job and holding back when they weren’t. If Daniel wasn’t going to join the struggle, then she shouldn’t have been sleeping with him. Period. Doing so was being counter-revolutionary.
But the brother was fine. All six-plus-feet of his muscled frame, and even his perfectly picked Afro, had a way of making a sister want to holler with just one look. And hustler that he was, he knew how to work his big brown eyes and sexy dimpled smile so that it went hand in hand with his hundred-dollar rap.
Honestly, once he stepped to her looking all good, dressed to woo and wow, there really wasn’t much she could have done not to drop the panties. And once he laid it down, well…he made it hard for her to keep turning him away. So she always found her way back. She just kept telling herself that this time was the last time. She wouldn’t continue to let him make love to her if he didn’t show that he was down for the people, down for revolution. But she knew it was a lie. This man, so different from her in so many ways, was the other half of her soul. She’d always come back.
She felt his growing love swelling and pressing next to her skin. Everything inside of her told her he was the one. Straddling him, she slowly let her tongue trail his sweat-soaked chest. She knew she loved the man. Rising, she centered her sex on his and worked her muscles seductively on the way down.
“Mmm…yeah, baby. That’s what I like. That’s what I need. Come on and stay with me, baby. Stay with me, and it can be you and me against the world.” Daniel arched his back and moaned as he murmured his seductive words.
Adding a bounce to each swivel of her hips, Karla rode Daniel as if her life depended on it.
“You could leave that counter-revolutionary lifestyle you’re leading and join us.” She leaned down and captured his lips in a soft, pecking kiss before continuing. “I won’t be able to see you anymore if you don’t. This will have to be our last time together. You don’t want that, do you?”
“I told you not to use our relationship as some sort of bargaining tool.” Daniel’s gaze became heated and angry as he sat up and flipped her over on her back. Still inside of her, he lifted her legs to his shoulders and pushed forward.
Each thrust of his hips set jolts of pleasure to her core and pain to her heart. She could tell by looking at him that he wasn’t going to do the right thing and join the revolution.
“All that pussy power crap those tired revolutionary brothers spouting is just so they can get in your pants.” He thrust his hips forward with a vigorously seductive swivel, touching places inside of her that she didn’t even know could be touched. “No man is going to let a woman dictate how he lives and dies based on what’s between her legs.”
Closing her eyes briefly and savoring the tingles that shot from her core to the tips of her toes, she swallowed back a moan. “Well, crap or no crap, I can’t keep doing this. I’m living for the people. We can’t stay together unevenly yoked.”
Daniel laughed at that and brought his mouth down to her nipple. He thrust his hips forward in quick succession as he suckled. An orgasm shot through her that made her back leap from the bed and her inner thighs quiver. She had to close her eyes again so that they wouldn’t cross. When she opened them, Daniel’s glare was on her.
“‘Unevenly yoked’? You ain’t saved, and the revolution sure as hell ain’t no religion. You gonna have to decide once and for all. Because now…I’m thinking I don’t want my lady hanging around a bunch of so-called revolutionaries using their foolish ideas to get in her pants. So you decide. Will it be me or the revolution?”
Daniel moved in and out of her, faster and harder. Her heart began to beat wildly, and her soul began to ache uncontrollably. Just as they both reached their peak and found completion, Daniel fell on top of her. He kissed her passionately and held her close.
“I do love you, Daniel. I always will. But if I have to choose, then my choice will always be the people and freedom. If you can’t join the fight, then I might as well leave now.” Pressing her hands against his chest, she moved to leave.
He held her tightly and flashed that sly grin that always tugged at her heart and melted her insides. “No. You’re not leaving me, girl. And I ain’t leaving you. This is forever. You and me. Forever. I’m your man.”
“Forever…you and me…forever.” Karen rolled over from her restless slumber with her hands wrapped around herself so tightly she could hardly breathe.
Her panties were wet, and her entire body shook with the aftermath of lovemaking so passionate she could almost still feel him. When had her dreams become so vivid? And why did the people in her dream feel like her and Darius? She had had dreams in which she felt like herself but didn’t recognize or look like herself. But this felt like straight up recalling another lifetime, like remembering herself in another lifetime.
Running her hand across her face, she took slow, halting breaths.
When the deep inhalations didn’t seem to be doing any good, she got up on her shaky feet and walked to her kitchen. She figured a glass of water or a cup of tea might help. But then she noticed the bottle of wine that she’d opened when Darius was there and opted for a glass of that instead.
She took the glass back to her bedroom and sat down. Taking slow sips, she reached for the leather-bound journal that she’d found while cleaning out Amina’s attic.
Opening the yellowing, aged pages, she turned to and found exactly what she’d been afraid she’d find—entries from Karolyn D. She’d been a clubwoman doing good work on temperance and uplift in the community and then she met a juke-joint owner named Davey. There were also entries from Karla, Amina’s sister the black revolutionary, telling all about her relationship with Daniel the street hustler. She tried to think about what all those relationships had in common and what they could possibly have to do with what she was feeling about Darius.
Karen sighed, took a sip from the wine and set it back down on her nightstand before grabbing a pen. Turning to the last entry in the journal, dated November 15, 1970, Karen began to write on the next empty page. She had no idea what possessed her to write in the journal. She just felt a pressing feeling in her heart.
As the words began to bleed onto the page, she felt the pressing ease just a bit. What she wrote surprised her more in some ways and seemed like a given in others.
Only two days ago, he walked into my youth center. I have no idea how I’m going to be able to resist him or even if I should. All I know for sure is that Darius “D-Roc” Rollins is doing something to me. My soul seems to recognize him and wants him even though my mind is reeling and railing against the very thought. I couldn’t think of two more diametrically opposed individuals. My life mission is about helping the youth. His music and message seem to be all about partying and having fun. I know all of this and still I’m drawn to him. I’m as drawn to him as I am to this journal, a journal filled with the stories of women who have loved men they seemed to be at odds with philosophically. The part of me that is reaching for Darius, for his heart and soul, is also telling me to work out my feelings through words here in this book. So I guess I just write and hope and pray…
Until next time,
Love and peace,
Karen W
Chapter 9
Getting up the next morning and heading into the center was difficult to say the least. Karen didn’t know how she could continue to face Darius with all the dreams she’d been having. Even though she told herself that the dreams weren’t about him—weren’t about them—something deep in her spirit said they were. Passing Dicey’s D
ivine Intuition, she made a mental note to go in and visit Dicey for a reading. The woman had been trying to get her in there for the longest time. Maybe that would help her figure this out. Maybe she needed her aura checked or some woo-woo stuff like that.
She wasn’t the type to take those kinds of things too seriously. But then she’d never had strangers who seemed familiar invading her dreams before either.
As soon as she walked up to her building, Darius got out of his car and walked over carrying coffee.
She smiled at him. “You’re early today.”
“I couldn’t wait to see you again.”
She couldn’t help staring at him to see if she could tell if he was being sincere or running game. His chocolate-drop eyes showed a hint of tiredness, but they also seemed to shine true. Quickly turning away, she walked back toward her office with him right on her heels.
“I brought you another caramel latte.” He handed her the drink and sat down. He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. “Here’s the thing. I have been having a hell of a hard time sleeping since I met you. You are so deep in my system that I’m starting to have a hard time distinguishing between up and down, right and wrong. Hell, the only reason I can manage to get up in the morning is because I want to see you. And you might think a brother is running game and not believe a word I’m saying to you. But I’m being more real than makes sense to me right now because I just met you.”
He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Tell me you feel me, girl.”
Oh, she felt him all right. But how did she tell him that she’d been having weird dreams that woke her up, dreams about people she didn’t know, but that she knew so well.
How did she tell a man that she just met a few days ago that she saw lifetimes, futures, hopes, dreams and everything in between when she looked into his eyes?
You don’t tell him that, foolish girl! the rational side of her seemed to scream.
“Darius—I really don’t know what to say. We just met. I barely know you, really. I think we’re already moving way too fast. Things feel so intense, and we haven’t even done anything but talk and kiss—you know?”
Just that and you gave me a couple of mind-blowing orgasms without even taking off my clothes. But really what is a couple of orgasms between virtual strangers?
She sighed. “I feel like if we don’t put on the brakes we are liable to combust, go up in flames and explode, you know?”
“And I feel like if we don’t do something about this attraction, if we don’t act, we will for sure ignite and burst. I have a feeling it could be… I’m not sounding very smooth right now. This is not cool at all. But I’m gonna be real with you because you need to understand this. Karen, I know in my gut that I’m meant to be your man. I have got to have you. I’m staking my claim, girl. You’re mine.”
He got up from his seat. “I’ll be around for a couple of hours today. But, I’ll be back tonight to pick you up.”
“You’ll be back tonight. Who said anything about—”
“Karen, don’t ask me how I know this, but you and I are destiny, baby. Like I told you the other night, I’m your man. See ya later.”
And he trotted off like he’d just proclaimed that the sky was blue or some other real and verifiable thing that could easily and readily be shown and proved. His confidence. His stance. His swagger. They all seemed to scream, “I’m a cocky and arrogant man, but I got you, baby. You’re mine.”
For all her womanist leanings, she could not find it in herself to refute him. Everything inside of her yearned to make his words come true. What was she going to do?
Once the day got started, there was really no time to reflect, ponder and daydream about her intensely growing feelings for the rapper and actor. She had a center to run.
She was impressed, though, with how easily Darius seemed to fit in to the flow of things at the center. Just like when he stuffed envelopes the other day, he did the tasks she asked of him without complaint. He took initiative when appropriate and did some things without having to be told.
More importantly, he was excellent with the youths. She’d walked up on him several times that day having conversations with groups of students about the importance of education and hard work. They were the things she drilled into them every day, but he made it seem fun, almost glamorous. The first time she had eased up on him and two of the boys, she’d thought she was going to have to break up some kind of lurid discussion, they had been laughing so hard. But what she found were two of her more difficult young men totally enthralled with Darius’s story of being in community college and working full-time to pay for his demo.
After he put in several hours, he left to go and check on his grandmother and aunt. But he’d certainly left an impression on the youths. And if she were honest, he had left an impression on her, as well.
After taking her quick and sufficient—but not necessarily tasty—low-calorie frozen meal out of the microwave, she went to her office for a quick bite before finishing her tasks for the day. Just as she was about to put the first spoonful of the Latin-inspired chicken-and-rice dish in her mouth, her phone rang.
“Shemar Sunyetta Youth Center, this is Karen Williams speaking.”
“Ms. Williams, this is Cullen Stamps, D-Roc’s manager—”
“Darius has left for the day, Mr. Stamps. He went to check on his relatives. I’m sure you might be able to reach him on his cell.”
“I’m not calling to speak to him. I’m calling to speak to you, Ms. Williams. I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the work you’re doing with the youth. I suppose someone has to do it. My point is that D-Roc doesn’t have the time, and I need to know how much it will take for you to put an end to this trial-basis bullshit and let him go so that he can get back in the studio.”
Shocked, Karen’s mouth fell open. For the first time in her life, she found herself speechless. That hardly ever happened to her.
“I’ve done my research on you, Ms. Williams.” The way he said Ms. Williams sounded as if he were saying common street whore instead. “I know you can be bought. So how much is it going to cost me?”
Is this pencil-pushing pimp parading as a manager calling me a whore?
The outrage she felt almost refused to be contained. She took deep, calming breaths and tried to uncross her eyes. They seemed to have gotten stuck. She shook her head and took another breath.
“Mr. Stamps, I don’t know what you think you’ve heard about me. And I really don’t know what could have given you the idea that you could continue to insult me and I’d continue to give you a pass—” she paused, breathed in deeply and let it back out “—but I will give you the benefit of the doubt this time. The fact of the matter is no matter what you’ve heard or what you think you know about me, you don’t know me!”
She stopped and took several more calming breaths. Professionalism sucked in cases like this. There were some people in the world that deserved to be blacked out on, some people who deserved a real good cussing out. Cullen Stamps was one of them. She wondered if he was any relation to her aura-reading neighbor, Dicey “Divine” Stamps. If he was, they were about as different as night and day.
“I know you started your little center with the large sum of money your dead friend, Shemar Sunyetta, left you. I know that he also gave you money while you were attending Brooklyn College. Did his funds keep you off the pole? Do you see D-Roc as a way to replace the Shemar money train you got so used to riding? You can forget about it. He’ll see you for what you are soon. I’ll make sure of it. So why don’t you do us all a favor and take the money I’m offering you to let him go? Now!”
That was it. Disrespecting her, disrespecting her best friend’s memory, he had to be told off.
Professionalism be damned!
She was a Brooklyn girl at heart, and that would never change.
No! She would not let this idiot take her control. She was a strong, poised, professional black wo
man. And how would she be able to lecture to her youth about maintaining control if she let this fool get to her?
“Mr. Stamps, your client has made a decision to devote some time to our center, and we appreciate all the help we can get. I’m not going to turn his generous offer down. Money is something we can always find. But folks willing to devote the precious commodity of time? Not so much. Mr. Rollins is a grown man who has made a decision to give back. You work for him. I suggest you respect your client’s decision.”
“Look, you little bitch—”
“Please, Mr. Stamps, I know the concept of respect might be a little foreign to you, but you should know I won’t be called a bitch. So, I’m going to do us both a favor and end this call now. Do not call me again! If you want Mr. Rollins to stop volunteering, then you should speak to him about that.” She hung up the phone because she was tempted to throw in a couple of derogatory words for good measure. A girl could only hold back so much until she burst.
She rubbed her temple and wondered just how much trouble Mr. Stamps was going to be.
Her stomach was still growling, and she realized that she needed something more than the little—now cold—microwave rice dish in front of her. In fact, it didn’t look very appetizing at all now that it was cold. A nice veggie sub from the bodega on the corner would be much more satisfying. She told her staff she was running out to grab a bite and planned to bring her sandwich back to the office to eat while she worked. She had grant applications and proposals to finish, and the deadlines were creeping up on her like crazy.
Just as Karen walked back to the center, Dicey came walking out of Divine Intuition.
“I see you’ve met him,” Dicey offered with a knowing grin.
“Met who?”
“Your other half, your soul mate, dear one.”
“Yeah, right, Dicey.” Karen gave an uneasy laugh and shrugged her shoulders.
“You don’t have to confirm or deny anything to me, dear one. I can see it all in your aura. You and he have done this dance many times before and you’ll no doubt be doing it many more times to come. The only question is if you will make the most use of your time together this time. How much time will you waste?” Dicey patted her forefinger on her chin as if in deep contemplation.
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