by H.H. Fowler
Chapter One
It had now been about three months since Taj Brooks migrated from Florida – about as long as he and Jennifer had been engaged. Like I said, I was okay with that until she revealed that they’d met on Facebook and had decided to streamline the relationship process after having communicated for less than a month. Taj moved in with Jennifer and before long she was repetitively bragging about their bedroom antics. I hadn’t any other choice but to assume that they were doing stuff only a married couple should be doing. And that was a big no no in my book.
Not only had Jennifer gone against her spiritual conviction as a new convert to Christianity, but she showed little regard for my lectures about purity and abstaining from the pleasures of the flesh. Her philosophy was that a person only has one life to live and must strive to live it without regrets, which included taking a risk on marrying someone she barely knew. And then she had the audacity to add, ‘it is better to marry than to burn.’
Problem was, Jennifer wasn’t burning. As long as she continued to let Taj stay in her bed, freely giving in to his seductive charms, she was only nourishing her carnal desires. I feared nothing would be left for their honeymoon – or of her spiritual conviction. But Jennifer had always been an adventurous devil and downright stubborn, even as far back as when I’d first met her in the eight grade. Her bold, sassy approach to life was the flip side to my reserved, introverted self. But by the same token, I, Sierra Lloyd had vowed to persist as a devout Christian.
That being said, I would not be a hypocrite and say that my admiration for Taj Brooks had diminished. In fact, within three short months it may have blossomed into something else I was too ashamed to admit. Do I dare categorize it as lust, as that old preacher had so ably conveyed for those six weeks? I wouldn’t know because I’d purposely stayed away to protect my pride. Maybe it was lust, and if so, I certainly did not picture myself becoming a victim. Overall, I’d kept my distance and my vow to God that I would not allow whatever I was feeling for Taj to interfere with my friendship with Jennifer.
However, though I found these unwanted feelings extremely burdensome, because the more I sought to get rid of them the more they persisted, there were times I fully indulged them –especially when Taj was in my presence. I would appraise his every feature before I would suddenly become aware of it. I loved how his refined looks and effortless allure, complemented his lean physique, which was usually ornamented in a black suit he wore for his profession as a private limo driver.
When he laughed his dimples became pronounced and mesmerizing. Jennifer told me that Taj was of Indonesian descent, pleasantly mixed with a dose of Peruvian blood. I was not sure if Jennifer had been exaggerating at that point; however, I could certainly understand why she would want to swipe Taj off the market as soon as she could. He was unquestionably an incredible catch.
Being a second-generation Canadian-Bahamian by heritage, I had a strong propensity for well-put-together men. Men like Taj Brooks, were the quintessential models of my taste in looks, personality, height, and overall swagger. That was probably one of the main reasons why my feelings persisted. I desired a man who possessed similar traits. But if I allowed my errant thoughts to have their way, I knew it could land me in hot water. Because something as simple as Jennifer telling me that Taj was planning to show up this evening at our usual Friday night games, caused my heart to leap with excitement.
I felt horrible basking in Taj’s visits, but it was difficult not to. Believe me, I was studying every scripture on temptation to help thwart giving in to these feelings. But it seemed like the more I studied the word of God, the greater my fight became. Maybe I should have sat under that old preacher for those six weeks and listened to what he had to say. Back then, I simply thought I could have handled those unwanted feelings on my own. Now here I was waiting on God to bless me with my Boaz, but at the same time I was jealous that my best friend’s marital status was about to be changed by a man I wished was mine. Talk about misery!
So picture this: When my door buzzed, I almost fell on my face trying to answer it. I invited Taj and Jennifer into my one-bedroom flat on Paradise Island – which was considered the premier of real estate properties in the Bahamas. As a licensed real estate professional with the renowned Smith, Robinson and Bradshaw Realty, I got to live like the privileged lived – an exclusive lifestyle that was the envy of many. But I was not like the spoiled rich kids who turned their noses up at people less fortunate than them. Though my deceased parents had left me enough money to open up a minimart, I decided to follow my dreams by enrolling myself into college, working hard and then establishing a ceiling on how extravagantly I would live my life.
“Hi, Sierra,” Jennifer beamed as she sashayed into my foyer. “So happy my man could come with me tonight.”
I zeroed in on Taj and tried not to make my stare too obvious. But as luscious as he looked wearing that devilish smirk, it was extremely hard for me to keep my senses intact. He then began to chomp down slowly on a piece of gum, which made his mouth look marvelous in motion. Lord, Jesus, help me! This ain’t right – the way I’m painstakingly appraising this man.
“As usual, you guys are early,” I said as I leaned over to kiss Jennifer’s cheek. I was about to press my lips against Taj’s mahogany skin too, but instead, I lithely placed my hand into his and tried not to melt into a puddle of water. “Taj…nice of you to return to our Friday night games, despite your being the only male.”
His smirk turned into a full grin, and I immediately felt a flush of heat behind my ears. “I really don’t mind.” His voice had a hoarse-like quality to it. He then added with a glint of mischief in his eyes, “Besides, I get a front-row seat to what you women talk about when we men are not around.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes, and grinned. “He just wants to be around me,” she cooed. The black fitted dress she wore boldly showed off her curvaceous figure. And even though I worked hard to augment my more appealing assets, somehow, I still appeared malnourished in my shoulders and arms with little assurance of ever looking as filled-out and as supple as my girlfriend. With a hand to her side, Jennifer spun, pausing to face me with one foot in front of the other. “He tells me every day how addictive I am. How beautiful I am…‘Can’t get enough,’ he complains. I’m ashamed to even mention what he told me on the way over here.”
Of all the emotions in the world, it was jealousy that punched me in the stomach, which was strange because Jennifer was openly gloating about the sin in her life. I should have slapped her with a rebuke from God’s word, but instead I was envious. I cleared my throat and then cracked a smile that probably didn’t reach my eyes. “What are you guys having to drink?” I asked as I began walking ahead of them toward my gourmet kitchen. I was still jealous and trying my hardest not to show it.
“I’ll have a glass of water,” Jennifer said, flaring her nostrils. “Because you are always out of alcohol.”
“Whatever,” I quipped. “You know I don’t believe in keeping alcohol in my fridge. This is a holy place.”
“Sierra,” Jennifer called in that priggish tone I couldn’t stand but loved at the same time. “You must take better care of your best friend. I may not be around forever. Didn’t Jesus turn water into wine? What’s wrong with having a little alcohol now and then?”
I ignored Jennifer and directed my question to her fiancé. “What are you having, Taj?”
“Whatever you’re having,” he said.
My gaze found Taj’s the same time Jennifer reached up and pressed her freshly painted lips against his mouth. “Hold tight, sweetie,” she said. “I’m going to the bathroom for a sec. When I return, Sierra, please have an answer to my question. Because I really don’t see anything wrong with a Christian drinking alcohol.”
“You already know my stance on alcohol,” I said. “And I’m not changing it for you or for anyone.”
Jennifer grinned as she walked away. Her lipstick had left Taj’s lips a shade pinker and mo
re desirable than they already were. He cleared his throat, which forced me to drag my gaze from his lips, connecting them to his deeply set eyes. The hazel hue was a gorgeous contrast against his mahogany complexion. I could see in his eyes that he knew his presence was altering my senses. I imagined he was secretly loathing my thin frame, because I dared not believe that he found me more appealing than Jennifer, whose body was so much curvier than mine. Lord, please, help me to stay focused!
“So, how’s the real estate business here on Paradise Island?” he asked, destroying the silence between us.
I was completely caught off guard by the husky timbre of his voice. “Huh?”
He smiled. “Jennifer tells me that you are very good at what you do. You do work for a real estate company, don’t you?”
“I do. Smith, Robinson and Bradshaw. I’ve been with them for five years. Our clients are an affluent circle of old money, who don’t mind splurging their wealth, even on uninhabited inlets. Offers that are vastly under four million dollars are usually met with a recommendation of another brokerage, whose appetite is less sophisticated. We have a strong history of meeting our clients’ expensive tastes –”
“Which means you only cater to high-end property seekers,” Taj finished for me. He stared at me as if he was rolling an idea around in his head. “So, four million dollars, is it?”
I froze at the enticing way his lips moved. “Why don’t you tell me your budget and I will tell you if I can work something out for you.”
“Sounds as if you love doing favors.”
“Well…,” I paused, as I heard my toilet flush. Taj’s eyes dithered with mischief at my nervousness. “That depends heavily on who the favor is for. You’re Jennifer’s fiancé. I will do my best to accommodate you.”
“Let’s us meet tomorrow for lunch.” He said it as if he were in charge of me. “I would like to discuss some things with you.”
Of course, I am both confused and speechless. I’d determined by the expression in his tone that he did not want Jennifer to know that he’d asked me out to lunch. What was the reason behind the secrecy? I doubted Taj had four million dollars put away to purchase property on Paradise Island. He was a chauffeur who drove around a seventy-year-old rich woman.
“I will call you at noon with the details,” he said. “Jennifer thinks so highly of you, but I would love a chance at getting to know you for myself. You are very intriguing.”
Intriguing? Now devil, you are nothing but a liar. I was trying to figure out what Taj meant when he brushed past me and strutted into my sunken den. I watched him as he eased down on my sofa and clicked on the flat screen TV. I was temporarily paralyzed, struggling against giving in to that brief, but electrifying contact of his skin. His scent was a crisp blend of rosewood and mint – an extremely spellbinding concoction.
Luckily for me, my doorbell came alive and forced me out of my stupor. The remainder of the girls filed in behind the others with their familiar racket. I loved their energy, but the only thing on my mind at that moment was trying to understand the real reason why Taj wanted me to have lunch with him. Because from that moment onward, an uncomfortable vibe began to stir within my spirit.