Forever His Desire

by Valerie Lynne

  The first thing Andre had done when he’d left the condo the previous night was call Blake. His manwhore partner was always eager for a night on the prowl. After shooting some pool and drinking way too many beers at O’Halloran’s, Andre felt like the third wheel as he sat in the back seat, listening to Blake and some airhead he’d hooked up with at the bar flirt. As if that hadn’t been bad enough, Andre had gotten little sleep as he lay on the makeshift bed he’d pulled together on Blake’s couch. His mind wouldn’t stop racing and to be honest, even if by some miracle he’d been able to quiet his thoughts, Andre seriously doubted he’d have gotten any rest. Not when the woman Blake brought home shrieked and giggled as if she were part hyena. The sounds coming from behind Blake’s closed bedroom door were far from human.

  Andre had booked it out of Blake’s apartment before the break of dawn. He’d sent a text thanking his friend for letting him shack up for the night. After a quick stop at Dunkin for a coffee and bagel, he’d driven straight to Easton’s Beach. There was something about the ocean that brought him peace. Silently, he watched the waves roll to the shore from the driver’s side seat of his new Ford F-150. He couldn’t recall exactly how long he’d sat there, his only company a mass of squawking seagulls that brazenly traipsed over the truck’s hood, contemplating what to do next. If Rosalyn really was pregnant and a DNA test proved without a doubt that he was the father, his entire future with Jennifer would be affected. Hell, it already was. Somehow, he had to figure out a way to get her to listen and understand that he’d never willingly sleep with another woman.

  Now, as Andre pulled into the narrow driveway on Friendship Street, was the moment of reckoning. As difficult as it would be, he was going to tell his mother what happened. She was the wisest person he knew. She’d help him figure things out.

  “HEY, MOM,” ANDRE SAID entering the kitchen. He bent down and brushed a kiss on his mother’s chubby cheek.

  She placed her knife on the cutting board. “Something’s wrong.”

  He chuckled. “Does something have to be wrong for me to visit my mother?”

  “On a Thursday?” Gray-haired with weathered skin, his mother focused her knowing gaze on him. “At 8:30 in the morning? Yes.”

  This is harder than I thought. I don’t know how to tell her. Andre pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down on a worn cushion. “What are you making?”

  “One of your all-time favorites, chicken pot pie. Dinner will be at six tonight if you and Jennifer want to join us.” Naturally, his mother had assumed Andre would come by for dinner. He never refused his mother’s chicken pot pie. It was his favorite.

  Andre ignored the comment and turned his attention to the window monitoring the antics of two squirrels hoarding walnuts from the large tree at the end of the driveway. Back and forth they ran, scattering their nuts in various places.

  Placing the cubed chicken in a large bowl, Mrs. Jenkins removed two bags from the refrigerator. She made short work of the carrots and celery, chopping them into bite-sized bits. “You plan on staring out that window all day?” Mrs. Jenkins asked as she pulled a rolling pin from a drawer and placed it beside a mound of dough. “Or do you plan on answering my question?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me. I know you better than you know yourself. Why are you sitting in my kitchen on a weekday morning looking as if you’ve lost your best friend?”

  Although his mother never completed high school, her intelligence was remarkable. Loyal to the ailing single father who’d raised her after her mother passed away in childbirth, Gladys Jenkins had dropped out of high school to take care of him. She married her high school sweetheart when she’d learned she’d become pregnant with Andre.

  “Lots of stuff on my mind,” Andre said.

  “You can avoid the question, but I’d bet money I already know what’s troubling you.”

  Andre shook his head. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”

  “If you love her, don’t give up on her,” his mother said.

  Andre rolled his eyes. “How do you know this has anything to do with Jenn?”

  His mother turned her back to the counter, her arms supporting the arch of her lower back. “Because you’re rather easygoing. The only time you’re ever upset is when you are concerned about Jennifer.”

  “She kicked me out,” Andre deadpanned. “I don’t know what the hell I should do. I stayed at Blake’s last night, but I don’t have anywhere to go.”

  Gladys rested her pudgy body on the chair beside Andre. “You’ll be back at the condo by bedtime. The two of you always fight and you always resolve whatever the issue was.”

  “This can’t be fixed. Not this time.” Andre sucked in a deep breath, his shoulders sagging. “She hates me.”

  “Jennifer doesn’t hate you. That’s rubbish.” Gladys cocked her head to one side, her expression softening as she studied him. “That girl loves you more than life itself. Some silly fight isn’t going to destroy the love the two of you share. Your bond is too deep. You’ve shared too much. You both had a rough start in life. Both of you suffered the loss of a parent way too young. But Jennifer had an extra smack to the face. Not only did she watch as her mother suffered with cancer, but then she was shuffled around the foster care system because the man who sired her didn’t take responsibility for his own child. I cannot fathom how terribly heartbreaking it must have been for a young girl to be unwanted by her own flesh and blood. How could her wounds not seep into her soul?”

  “Mom, something horrible happened. You’re not going to like what I have to say.” Andre’s pulse quickened. “Rosalyn’s pregnant.”

  “So?” Gladys said, her face turning ashen as she was met with silence. “No? You didn’t?” she gasped, moving her hand to her chest.

  “Not on purpose.” Andre’s eyes stung as the tears welled. “I never wanted Jennifer to find out. Rosalyn says the baby is mine. But you have to believe me, Mom. I didn’t have sex with Rosalyn willingly.”

  “I do believe you.” Gladys nodded.

  “I’m so ashamed.” Andre hung his head. “Nobody will believe me or look at me the same way again.”

  “I raised a good man. You have never done anything that would embarrass me, and I don’t give a crap about anyone’s opinion. I suspect that Rosalyn is the mastermind behind whatever indiscretions took place.” Gladys reached over to him, cupping his chin with her fingers and forcing him to look her directly in the eye. “We’re not going to leave this room until you tell me exactly what happened.”

  “It’s ugly, Mom,” Andre said, the tears rolling down his cheek. “I’m not the fucking man you raised me to be. I’m a coward. A fraud.”

  Gladys glared at him, her lips set into a firm line. “I’ll be the judge of that. Now, tell me every ugly detail.”

  Chapter 19

  Jennifer

  Jennifer moaned, her head aching as she reached across the mattress and patted the pillow beside her. What’s wrong with you, stupid? He’s gone. You kicked him out two weeks ago. By now, he’s probably shacking up with his baby momma.

  Her mouth was dry as a bone. I need a drink. Her temples pounded, drumming a cyclonic beat as she rose into a seated position. A pout crossed her lips as she picked up the empty bottle of vodka on the nightstand. Shit! She swore under her breath. I should have brought up an extra bottle.

  She yanked the blankets off and maneuvered out of the bed, her feet instantly chilled as they met with the hardwood floor. She scratched the back of her scalp, her fingernail catching in the matted-up locks as she scuffed barefoot into the hallway.

  Jennifer sniffled, unable to stop the torrent of tears that streamed down her face as she glanced through the open door of the closet. He’s in her bed now. His clothes are in her closet. He’s probably sweaty and naked fucking that bitch right now.

  A few moments later, Jennifer flung her arms out before her, her toe pointed as she searched blindly for the staircase. In the darkness, she fumbled
around the walls, her fingers finally colliding with the smoothness of the wooden banister. White knuckled she hugged the railing, her legs trembling as she began her descent, slowly trudging down the staircase.

  Each step brought a new resignation. I don’t need that fucker. Who needs a man? A lying cheating son of a bitch who makes you believe they love you and then betrays you. Fuck that! I don’t need you, Andre Jenkins. I don’t need anyone. All I need is a drink. Alcohol and vibrators make everything better.

  Determination crept into her bones, the promise of peace only a few feet away. Reaching the bottom of the steps, she quickened her pace as she rushed toward the kitchen. Flinging the refrigerator door open, she grasped the bottle of wine from the shelf. With a sense of giddiness, Jennifer hugged the cold bottle to her breast and without bothering to close the refrigerator door, rushed to the counter to uncork it. Jennifer wrapped her fingers securely around the neck of the bottle and brought it to her mouth. Why dirty a glass? There was no one there to impress.

  More importantly, she longed for the divine comfort of the thick-rimmed head against her parted lips. She tipped her head back, her heart racing in anticipation. The alcohol slid over her tongue, coating it with its fuzzy sweetness. Euphoria burst through her, as she savored its familiar flavor. She swished the wine from side to side between her cheeks prolonging her enjoyment as the tension eased from her body.

  LATER THAT AFTERNOON the intercom buzzed.

  How dare she interrupt us now? Jennifer fingered the smooth glass of the bottle, her lips curving into the sensual smile of a scandalous rendezvous. All afternoon her phone had blown up with texts from Victoria hounding her about when she planned to return to work. And if Victoria’s nagging wasn’t annoying enough, Andre’s useless lie-filled apologies littered her voicemail box and dirtied her cell phone.

  Fuck them. Why can’t they just leave me alone? This is all I need—all I want. Jennifer lifted the bottle to her lips, arching her head back, and began to chug down the wine.

  Buzz...Buzz...Buzz....

  “She’ll never fucking quit,” Jennifer mumbled. Reluctantly, she placed the half-empty bottle on the counter and moved toward the door, her legs feeling like rubber beneath her. “What up,” Jennifer exclaimed in mock delight as she greeted them through the intercom.

  A melodic familiar voice echoed through the speaker. “It’s me, Vicki.”

  “And me,” a soft, anguished-sounding girl’s voice followed. “Katie.”

  What the fuck. Why are they giving their names? Like I’d forget their voices.

  “I’m not decent. I hadn’t expected to receive visitors. Please come back another day,” Jennifer said, totally not ready to come face-to-face with her friends.

  “If you’d acknowledged my texts, then you’d know that Katie and I were going to stop by today,” Victoria bit out, her annoyed tone sounding much less angelic than normal.

  “I didn’t answer because I don’t want company,” Jennifer said with a heavy sigh.

  “Can we come in please?” Katie blurted. “It’s cold outside.”

  “Oh...all right.” Jennifer typed in the code as the intercom signaled of Vicki and Katie’s entrance.

  “Hi, beauties! What do I owe the pleasure of your presence?” Jennifer rested her fingertip over her lips. “Shh! Don’t tell me. Let me think?” Jennifer tapped her temple and then giggled. “I know! I know! You stopped by to see if I was still alive? Tada! I’m still alive!” Tossing her head back, Jennifer placed her palm on her belly and broke out into rip-roaring laughter.

  “You’re a regular comedian.” Hazel eyes glared at her, assessing her with an air of disgust. Her lips drawn tight, Victoria continued, “I’m glad to see you’re still breathing.”

  Jennifer pushed her bottom lip out, pouting theatrically at Victoria. “Don’t be so glum, chum. I’ve just been chillin’.” She reached out, grasping Katie’s hand and swinging it back and forth. “Hey, Pretty Girl.”

  Teary-eyed, Katie’s blue-eyed stare made her heart sink into her stomach. “What’s wrong, Katie? You look like you lost your best friend. Here, let me give you a hug.” Jennifer opened her arms wide and stepped forward, her legs swaying. She lost her balance, the right side of her body toppling roughly against the doorframe. “I’m okay!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up above her head in triumph as she regained her footing. “Superstar!”

  “Seriously, Jenn?” Victoria grumbled.

  “You’re a real Debbie Downer,” Jennifer taunted. “I’m more of a Mary Katherine Gallagher, myself.”

  “We’re not here to discuss Saturday Night Live.” Victoria forged ahead, her purse scraping against Jennifer’s leg as she stomped further into the room.

  “Rude.” Jennifer leaned forward as if to inform Katie of something top secret. “Vicki seems to have lost her manners. She’s just pissed because I am the fun one.” Jennifer waved her arms motioning for Katie to come forward. “Come the heck in.”

  Katie scurried past her, her eyes widening as they darted across the room. The blinds were sealed tight, only one ray of late afternoon light shined through the miniscule slit in the drawn curtains. The television was blaring as two shopping network hosts droned on and on about a pair of rhinestone earrings. Several empty bottles lay haphazardly across the carpet. A trail of potato chip crumbs ran along the floor, the empty crinkled bag covering part of a huge red wine stain that had seeped into the plush light beige rug. Beer cans were scattered around a pile of three pizza boxes, which sat on the recliner.

  “Don’t mind the mess,” Jennifer said, kicking an empty wine bottle aside as she walked to the couch. She lifted an empty beer can from the middle of the couch and plopped down onto the cushion. Sitting cross-legged, Jennifer peered over her shoulder and flashed a wide toothy smile at Katie. “Why are you way over there when there is a perfectly good chair right here?” Jennifer pointed at the recliner across from the couch. “Just toss the pizza boxes onto the floor. I’ll pick them up later. And Vicki, you can sit here.” Jennifer whipped the oversized pillow off the cushion beside her, hugging it to her chest and patted the seat.

  Katie’s long legs moved at a snail’s pace as she walked toward the recliner. As instructed, she placed the pizza boxes onto the floor beside the chair. She tugged the neck of an empty wine bottle from the back of the chair, setting it atop the hill of cardboard, and then sat down.

  “Yay! Now that we’re all comfy, what do you want to talk about?” Jennifer asked, clapping her hands together and then placing them onto her lap. Her chest squeezed, reminding her that she still was breathing, as she noted the tear stream down Katie’s cheek right before the teenager averted her gaze.

  “Jenn,” Victoria said. “This has to stop.”

  Jennifer furrowed her brow, her jaw jutting forward. “What has to stop?”

  “This!” Victoria cried out, her hand swinging wide to indicate the expanse of the room. “For God’s sake, Jenn, look at this place. It’s a disaster.”

  “Who the hell asked you for your fucking opinion?” A volcano of emotion erupted inside her. Her body temperature boiled into a shroud of wildfire. “You’ve come to my home uninvited to insult me. That’s fucking bullshit, Vicki.”

  An anguished gasp broke through the room as Katie slumped forward, her thin arms shaking as they balanced over her knees. Her face was hidden from view as she crushed her cheeks against her palms.

  Much to Victoria’s credit, she didn’t cower at Jennifer’s tongue-lashing. Instead, she set her jaw and then swiped the back of her arm over her tearstained cheek. “Look at you, Jenn,” she said, her voice wavering with a slight quiver. “I don’t even recognize you anymore. When was the last time you looked at your reflection in the mirror? This isn’t the Jennifer Jordan who I know.”

  “Get out if you don’t like it,” Jennifer shouted, tripping over her own feet as she jolted off the couch. “I didn’t ask you to come here.”

  “Stop!” Katie shouted, her face shiny with
tears. “Stop it! You’re acting exactly like Shane did.”

  “Forgive me if I hurt your feelings, Katie. I’d never be mean to you on purpose, but your brother is a known alcoholic,” Jennifer stated matter-of-factly. “I’m not. I can stop anytime I want. I’m in complete control.”

  “Is that why you’re dressed in a worn-out, faded T-shirt full of coffee stains and God knows what and have a giant whole in your pajama pants?” Victoria asked. “Or is this stringy, unwashed hair and chipped nail polish a new fashion trend?”

  Immediately, Jennifer’s gaze flew to the gaping hole in the kneecap of her pajama bottoms she’d never taken off for over seventy-two hours. She raised her hand, running her fingers over the once soft healthy locks. Shame welled within her as the greasy, snarled strands slid between her fingers. She began to pace, stumbling over an empty bottle. “I can’t imagine living my life without Andre. I need something to get me through. As soon as I feel better, I’ll stop drinking.”

  “I don’t think you can,” Vicki said.

  “Shut up!” Jennifer stormed toward the kitchen, anxious to get to the bottle she’d left on the counter. Victoria’s distrust of her promise was killing her spirit. Jennifer always prided herself on being a woman of her word. How could she have given Victoria a reason to believe otherwise? She stopped before the kitchen doorway and glanced over her shoulder, the full comprehension of her need to seek flight hitting her full force. Her pulse raced and her body trembled as she lusted for a sip. Just one sip to help her take the edge off. Slowly she turned, her gaze crossing over Victoria to linger on Katie. “What do you think, Katie?

  Katie worried her lips, her bottom one sucked in beneath her teeth. Finally, after a few tense-filled minutes of silence, sad blue eyes found hers. “Yes,” her voice trembled. “But I don’t think you can do this alone. If you’ll let me, I’ll set up a meeting with Shane. He’s been sober for a long time. If he can stop drinking, then you can too. Trust me. If you’ll allow me to contact him, I know he’ll be willing to help you.”