by Love Belvin
“A whole month?” he wheezed. I checked the time and saw I was late, or rather close to being on time, which, for me, was late. Also, Alexis texted me yesterday saying we needed to talk and I told her I’d be by a little early to do it. “What would you need so much time for?”
“Deuteronomy 24:5, Bishop. And I’m sure you’ll agree, I’m being generous with just one month,” my words were brisk to hurry along this conversation. “Listen, Bishop, I have to go. I’m late for an appointment.”
“So who’s going to break the news to your mother? I’m in total disbelief, son.” He sounded dazed. “First you’re firing dozens of staff and now—”
“Incompetent and non-productive staff,” I qualified as I began grabbing the bag from the passenger seat. “As far as mother: you start and I’ll finish. I’ll be by for dinner tomorrow night after Bible study.”
We ended the call and I was out of the car and anxiously making my way to Alexis’ building. The afternoon Alexis visited my home for the first time, once lunch was completed, she shared her obligation to clear our engagement with a Ms. Remah. I found it odd, recalling hearing the woman’s name once or twice during small talk with Alexis. I knew she’d been in her homeland of Jamaica for about a month and had just returned two days ago. Alexis arranged for us to meet this evening. I couldn’t help being perplexed. Who was this woman and why was it so important to have her approval?
I knocked on the door and was surprised at how quickly Alexis opened.
Chocolate enchantress…
Was all that echoed in my brain—and groin—upon setting eyes on her. She wore black cropped tights with a plain white crew-neck t-shirt that was cut for her body. The fit was snug enough I could see the contour of her small breasts.
You won’t answer a door like this as Mrs. Carmichael.
I had to rein in my derailed thoughts. This was game on for me. I could lust over my beloved soon enough, and freely. Right now, it’s about appeasing this Ms. Remah.
“What’s in the bag?” she asked breathily.
I could tell by the sudden pebbling of her nipples through the material that she was excited to see me.
“Something for Ms. Remah,” I answered. “It’s great to see you, beloved.”
Alexis smiled and shifted to invite me in. I gaited into the modest living room and placed the bag on the end table and turned to her, taking her at the wrists. Alexis was mere inches shorter than me, which was unusual given my six-foot-three stature. At five-eleven, I could conjure the adventures of taking her from the back, thoughts I struggled with as a man in my walk. I couldn’t wait to have her.
I shifted toward her ear. “I’m delighted you’re happy to see me, too.”
She sucked in a breath, and before I could continue with my unholy banter, Alexis abruptly shared, “The rec won’t be refunded. I lost my job.”
As I processed her announcement, I heard someone clear their throat. I turned to find a woman robust in size, sporting a well-appointed moue with her fist resting on her hips.
“This must be the illustrious Ms. Remah,” I acknowledged as I retracted into an upright position.
“Huhn!” she huffed coldly in response. Her round and protruding belly jolted when she did.
But her eyes read taken. Something about my presence appealed to her. Well, perhaps the navy blazer my stylist, Brian, insisted I wear with these jeans was the charm. Moving with her first impression quickly, I released Alexis and grabbed the bag from the table and presented it to her.
“I understand you’ve just returned from Jamaica. Don’t know if you brought bread fruit back with you.” Her eyes went wild as she retrieved it.
“Lawd,” she sang in ghostly surprise.
“I figured, either way, you can’t have too much bread fruit in the States.” I smiled enchantingly with desperate motives.
“Oh, my god!” Alexis cried. “Didn’t you say you forgot your bag with the bread fruit back there at your cousin’s?”
Ms. Remah didn’t answer, but I didn’t need her confirmation. She turned to go back into the kitchen, wide eyes stapled to the bag.
Thank you, Lord, for provision.
“How eerie was that?” Alexis spoke, astounded. “She was really upset that she forgot that bag.” I held an impassive face. “Anyway”—she sighed, taking me by the hand—“let’s go eat, but after we need to talk. I told her you’d probably be early. Food is ready.”
As I padded behind her, I almost turned mesmerized by the rhythm of her cheeks bouncing with each advancement under her small waist. Alexis’ pear shape was built with perfection. And for me.
Ms. Remah cooked a wonderful meal of rice, peas and stew chicken. I was sure to clean my plate as I ate with fervor. Women of all cultures appreciated that in men. As we finished up on dinner, I realized Ms. Remah didn’t talk too much. A reticent one with an impressive scowl, she was. I didn’t know what she was thinking and needed to probe.
“So, where exactly are you from in Jamaica, Ms. Remah?”
“Happy Grove,” she answered in a thick brogue.
“Ah!” Interesting. “Portland.”
Mid-chew, Ms. Remah’s jaw dropped. “Hayuhnuh? Huhn?”
“I told you Ezra’s traveled a lot,” Alexis informed with an impressed gleam in her eyes. “Have you been there?”
“No.” I answered honestly. “A friend of mine is from there.” That was a bit of an embellishment. Gifford wouldn’t consider me a friend for the amount of times I called him out for manipulating scripture for his benefit in seminary.
“Where from?” Ms. Remah grunted, untrustingly.
“I don’t know, specifically. He shared about the river over there—not the Rio Grande in Portland where the tourists go with the rafts from bamboo—the one without a name near the beach. When there’s no water, folks go to bathe, wash clothes, and for baptisms.” I recalled that level of intimacy with the water.
Ms. Remah, shook her head, and if I was crazy, I would believe a smile formed on even her lips this time, but briefly.
“She had such a good time, I don’t think she wanted to come back,” Alexis noted with melancholy, to which, Ms. Remah gave a warning glare.
“I’m sure she didn’t, at least not so soon, when they have their Emancipation and Independence Day in August.”
“Hayuhnuh?” Ms. Remah asked again, mouth agape and filled with food.
“Is that what you were telling me?” Alexis asked amazed. “That’s where your younger cousin will be a contestant in the Ms. Jamaica festival?”
Ms. Remah continued to eat her food, now with impassive interest. “Fitty-chird Independence.”
A perceptible moue gathered on Alexis’ face. Something was up with her. I’d have to probe later.
“Perhaps we can arrange for you to attend this year.” After the wedding of course. I recalled the desolation in Alexis’ eyes when our eyes met at her graduation. No one was in attendance to support her. Speaking of which… “So,” I began. I had to move this along. “I’m sure Alexis has told you of my wishes to marry her. And she’s made it clear that your blessings are needed. I am hoping for your good graces.”
“She lost huh job, yuhnuh?”
My eyes found Alexis’ distant ones. She was concerned about that setback derailing our plans.
“She just informed me, unceremoniously.” I turned back to Alexis. “I am sorry for your loss. I know how devoted you are to the rec, but I’m sure something even better will come your way. You’re armed with two degrees now.” Then I narrowed my eyes. “But I’m not sure why that’s being presented as problematic. I still want you. A simple issue of your employment won’t change that.”
“I have bills, Ezra,” Alexis argued.
“We’ve discussed that.” Her debt. And I wouldn’t rehash it here in front of someone I didn’t know.
“And what about the recurring ones: your mortgage, water and electric.”
My lips curled, feigning bemusement. “I didn’t ask you to m
arry me to split my bills, beloved. I recognize and respect your independence, but I don’t need your income. Just take your time looking for new employment.”
Alexis’ mouth dropped. Had I been offensive? Ms. Remah’s eyes pierced me for what felt like painfully slow hours. Then she raked them over to a pensive Alexis, who fiddled under her scowl. I watched how Alexis sucked in that bottom lip I wanted to devour. I didn’t know what this Remah woman was processing, but observed with a seeing eye, I knew I had to be patient. I could surmise her protectiveness of Alexis was maternal-like. So, I had no other choice but to wait.
“You guan take care of huh?” she asked with tight eyes. “She good gal. Nuh trash, yuhnuh? Huhn?”
“She’s exceptional, and I plan on handling her with the same style of care. You have my word on that, Ms. Remah.”
I glanced over to Alexis, who refused to look at me. She was that nervous.
The door sounded of raps. Anxiously, Alexis shuffled in her seat to stand.
“I got it.” Alexis stood. “We’ll discuss this more later.” She scurried out of the room.
I smiled brightly at Ms. Remah, who wouldn’t return the gesture. She just hummed her acknowledgement.
I could hear Alexis’ patter back toward the room. “It’s Pablo—I mean Juan,” she corrected. That’s interesting. “He needs your key to take a look at the toilet.”
A Hispanic man of average build entered the kitchen with ease, familiarly. He was fairly decent-looking, dark brown hair, rugged jeans, stained white t-shirt and construction boots. He was a working man. A handyman of sorts.
“Smells good in here,” he observed and acknowledged me with a quick nod and smile before walking over to the stove. “Stew chicken? And no one called me? Lex, really? She cooks and you don’t put something to the side for me?”
My hackles raised.
Who are you?
“It’s ummmm…” Alexis hesitated a moment then shrugged. “I guess it’s a special occasion.”
In my peripheral I watched Ms. Remah leave the table, but I couldn’t focus on my primary target; a new subject had landed on the scene. I stood.
“Ezra Carmichael.” I extended my hand, hoping he’d get the protocol and give me a name.
His eyes leaped to Alexis, questioningly, before he stepped toward me.
Yeah, you get the picture.
“Oh! Juan.” Alexis came to her wits. “This is Juan, Ezra. He helps us out with repairs and things around the house.”
Juan and I shook hands, but I could tell he was still processing my presence. Was he a former lover?
Just then an object was being slammed on the table in front of my pelvis. Ms. Remah was giving me a shot of something. She gestured with the jerking of her chin.
It’s a test.
“Oh, Ms. Remah, I told you Ezra is a minister. He doesn’t drin—”
Without preamble, I chucked the glass back, emptying the contents down my throat. The burn down my esophagus was worth leaping the hurdle Ms. Remah and this Juan dude had set for me to capture Alexis.
“Shit.” Alexis whined into her palm, totally stunned by the move.
I don’t drink. Alcohol was never a temptation of mine. Even when I’d indulged over the years, it was never in excess. I actually preferred control of all my faculties.
“I’m Alexis’ fiancé,” I curtly informed, turning to Juan.
“Fiancé?” He appeared stunned.
So, you two have been intimate.
“Yes, she’ll be moving next month. To Jersey.” I twisted the knife. She’d be far away from him.
The room went silent.
Slowly, he smiled. “So, just me and you, Ms. Remah,” he quipped.
“Uhn,” she grunted.
“Actually,” I scratched the tip of my nose. Proceeding without deliberation, atypical of me. “She’ll be coming with us.”
“Where?” Alexis demanded with skepticism.
All eyes were drawn to me. I hadn’t counted on her attachment to this woman being a factor. I had no idea they were this close.
Take command of the situation, Carmichael.
“The suite behind the house. It can be converted into an efficiency, but,” I swiped gravy from my plate with my index finger, “with culinary skills like this, you can share our kitchen. It would be my good fortune.” I made sure to smile infectiously.
I had to. Wouldn’t leave any variables out there to ruin this opportunity. I’d been too close. I would now change plans of construction. It would only cost me…thirty grand or so to implement it.
Christ!
A progressive smile grew on Alexis’ face. She turned to Ms. Remah.
“We’re moving to Jersey!” Alexis shouted.
And that halted my self-pity. She would be worth it. I’d make sure of it.
“Uhn!” Ms. Remah grunted again and padded out of the kitchen, leaving the apartment.
Juan gave a lingering stare to Alexis before following Ms. Remah out.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
My attention returned to Alexis, leaning one hip against the counter in front of the sink.
“Do what, beloved?”
“You didn’t have to save face and continue on with this. I’m sure you want to wait this job thing out before we do it—if you still want to at all.”
“I don’t ‘save face’, Alexis. I meant what I said. You’re too ambitious a woman for me to fear you turning into a couch potato.”
“And Ms. Remah coming to live with you?”
I glided over to her, taking her at the wrists, wishing I could do much more to her physically to reassure her.
“She’s coming to live with you in your new home. I didn’t calculate how intimate you were with her or else I would have offered sooner.”
“So, you’re okay with changing your plans for the suite?” she raised a suspicious brow. “Really, Ezra?”
“For you, it’s no major adjustment at all. I’ll just regroup.” That was mostly true. The plans for that suite did concern her. She would soon know just how much.
“She’s mean,” she warned.
“Extremely cantankerous,” I granted.
Alexis recoiled. “She’s that bad, huhn?”
“Let’s just say I have a good read on people.” I grinned pleasantly, not wanting to go there. “She’s also very private and has lots of pride. The suite being off the main house would be perfect for her to maintain her independence.”
“What about my independence? You mentioned it earlier.”
“Your independence needs to be reworked under my tutelage, and I plan to make good on my incoming crop.” I felt her pulse increase at her wrists. “On to other matters, what type of affair did you once have with Juan?”
Alexis’ neck jerked back first, then her eyes bulged.
“With Pablo—I mean Juan? None!”
“Don’t lie to me, beloved.” I’ll know.
“Well, he went to Nyree’s engagement party with me.”
“And?”
“And?” she echoed.
“And?”
“We’ve never dated outside of that, but we do smoke together…sometimes,” she quickly quantified.
“Smoke? Smoke what?”
I lost her eyes. Take it easy, Carmichael.
“You know…pot.”
Christ, Alexis! I would’ve never guessed.
“And?” I urged.
Her shoulders dropped. “Okay! And we kissed once.”
A sheet of anger poured over me.
“How long ago?”
“Before you and I…decided to be boyfriend and girlfriend.” She said it like it was a foreign concept. I guessed it, was in our case.
“When?”
“I don’t recall the exact date!” she tweeted, frustrated.
That recently? My thoughts turned dark. If she were mine right now, she’d be bent over, face in the sink, exposing herself for my paddling.
“Did you like it?”
> Alexis’ face turned horror-stricken before morphing into something expressing humiliation.
“No,” was emitted just above a whisper.
“Did it arouse you?”
“No.”
“Did my kisses arouse you?”
The area between her eyes wrinkled. “Yes,” she answered in the same tone.
“Did you ‘rub it off’ after I kissed you?” I used her phrase.
Alexis’ breathing increased, chest heaved, and nipples erected again. “Yes,” she breathed, eyes collapsed in a mixture of shame and arousal.
My voice dropped an octave. “Did you ‘rub it off’ the night he kissed you?”
“Yes,” she could barely utter the word.
That doused ice cold water on my arousal. A maelstrom of venom stirred in my chest. It was an emotion I was unaccustomed to feeling with regard to a woman.
“So, you were aroused.”
She shook her head, continuously breaking eye contact with me. What was going on? Where was my web of seduction, the power I used to weave her in securely?
“That night you asked me out for the first time,” she began so faintly. “I felt things…crazy shit I’d never felt and I didn’t like it. So, I came home, smoked with him and just…did it. I kissed him, hoping to get you out of my head. It backfired. The kiss was horrible, but the need…festered. So, when I went to bed that night, I…” She exhaled. I didn’t rush her no matter how eager I was to hear it all. “It wasn’t the first time I’d done it with you in mind. I was just tired of seeing you when I did and thought if I kissed…” She couldn’t continue.
I kissed her forehead and leaned into her ear, caressing her wrists. “I am well pleased to hear that, beloved.” When I withdrew, my voice resumed its natural tenor. “Four things before I go, beloved.” Alexis’ eyes rose. “One: no more kissing men, other than me. I think that goes without saying, but I’d like to be clear on that. From now on, your every pleasure will be doled out by me, sometimes with your participation, and other times without it.” Alexis’ mouth slammed closed. “Two: and more to that point, no more ‘rubbing it off’ unless I request you to…” I bent my knees to align our eyes. “…and though you unofficially belong to me, that won’t be until you’re my wife. Three: No more smoking weed. I’ll leave you to your own discretion with alcohol; your indulging in it is no concern of mine, but all other mood-altering substances is a hard limit for me. I will not tolerate it, and I’d hope you’d adhere to it considering my clergy status alone.”