by Love Belvin
Jade sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “Look! She ain’t gon’ be—”
I sealed that slick mouth with my own, silencing her flexing and thanking her at the same damn time. Her soft hands gripped the wings of back right away.
Jade thinks she’s so damn hard…
She swung the silver and turquoise metal urn in the winded air. Shank’s dust flew out in sheets before breaking apart and flying with the uptake of the salted wind. Some of him hit April, and after closing her eyes and spitting out remnants of him, she raised her chunky arms in the air, embracing the last of his physical being.
Sucking in a breath, I tried reining in my emotions as we stood a few yards behind her. Jade’s little hand pushed up my t-shirt and rubbed my back. Her touch was soothing and timely. Jade had been an object of familiarity and comfort for me this past week. Other than that slip up with my moms, she’d been a quiet force of beauty and strength. It bothered me that I didn’t know how I would’ve made it through this first period of loss without her.
I tightened my right arm caped lazily around Jade’s small frame, cuing her to walk down the beach to give my aunt privacy. Without further instruction, we left April alone with Shank. She cried out loud and laughed at the same time. And while I knew she was at peace and enjoying a defining moment with her husband, the groans in her cries tugged at me. As we paced slowly down the empty beach, I exhaled. I’d done it. With April by my side and this fiery midget underneath me having my back, I acted out the final wishes of the only man I ever knew as a father. It had been difficult and hella painful, and had come with its fair share of drama, but I’d gotten it done.
Jade and I talked, sometimes in silence and others in full blown random conversation. We walked for a while against the rumbling water until we came upon a boardwalk with shops, restaurants and a bar. Feeling I could use a drink after this past week, I asked Jade to slide inside.
I hummed on the way out, exhaustion coming over me. My hand was clutched tightly in Trent’s as I peered up at him to gauge his mood. He was good at hiding what he felt and I hated it. Sometimes I could catch mood swings in his eyes when I was lucky. His regard was between the air and water.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked with a nudge.
I felt a heavy dollop of rain hit my shoulders and squealed.
“That,” his thick baritone pushed out. “It’s about to pour down out here.”
I glanced around to what was a sparsely occupied beach on our stroll down here that was now almost empty. There was a crack in the sky, a roiling of thunder struck.
“Damn! C’mon, Jade!”
Trent yanked my hand, pulling me behind him in a hurried run. I screamed at the on rush of droplets falling from the dark sky. Trent’s long legs were hard to keep up with and eventually became difficult to see in the sheets of rain falling over us. I tried keeping up, maintaining a wide stride and rhythm that made me feel I was on his heels. My hand slipped from Trent’s grip and I panicked. The heavy drops pounding on my bare shoulders in a long tank maxi dress. I screeched, erratically feeling terrified by the disconnect. A heavy ground-shuddering thunder clap and blinding lightning struck at the same time. I was sure my life was about to expire. I heard horrified screams and shouts from other beach dwellers.
Oh, my God…Kyree! Trent!
Out of nowhere, I felt slippery arms encase me, lifting me from the sand. I was being carried on running legs, unable to see our destination.
“I gotchu, baby!” Trent tried to calm me over the roaring winds.
I wiped my eyes and saw we were under an artificial tree hut, no different from an oversized beach umbrella, just sturdier.
“Trent, this won’t hold up! Look!” I pointed at the flying beach particles: umbrellas, folding chairs, volley ball net, even a broken surfboard, all zipping around us.
I felt my body vibrate with fear, breaths coming out in drags. We weren’t going to survive this storm unscathed. It was impossible. I’d never seen anything like it in my life. The storm came out of nowhere, totally unexpected until it hit. We were a ways away from the beach house and without cell phones to call for help. How would we get out of this?
“C’mon, baby!” Trent yelled, distressed. “Over here!”
He stayed behind me, pushing my little legs away from the clamorous water behind us. We moved to a cemented shelter aside two shops whose shutters were beating against the buildings, adding to the evidence of the storm’s fury. Trent wasted no time gathering me into his big arms. When he felt I wasn’t close enough, he pulled me onto his lap and folded his long legs around me as I cried quietly. I didn’t want to sob out loud because it wouldn’t have helped Trent’s nerves that I was sure had to be frayed at this point. We sat out there for nearly thirty minutes. Trent rocked me in his arms as I hid my face from the angry storm.
Then suddenly, I heard murmurs in combination with vibrations from his chest against my arm.
“Thank you, God… Thank you, God…” he repeated over and over again.
It dawned on me that he’d been praying all this time. Of course, he would. Trent was a man of faith. But I hadn’t caught on in my pessimistic panic. Then I felt his abs shake. He was laughing. That’s when I pulled my head from his hold.
“What’s so funny?”
“The sun is coming out, for one.” He nodded in the air, gesturing with his eyes to the silhouette of the yellow light pushing through the gray clouds. “And two, because this is life. My life, your life…just life. You have great days then boom, you’re hit with a devastating storm that can take you out of here if you don’t have cover.” Then his eyes rose to the structure ensconcing us. “You have to seek out your covering if you want to see the other side of the storm. God covered me again with this one today—saying my final goodbye to my uncle and showing me this hut in the midst of heavy rain and treacherous winds. This storm just made that clear.” As Trent spoke, his face was placid and eyes almost ghosted, articulating his theory.
It was clear to me this was a defining moment for him, and suddenly, it had become one for me, too.
“I thought we were going to die, but I survived it in your arms,” I murmured breathlessly, surprised by the realization. “It’s the only place I want to be.” My fingers grazed the fine stubble on his jaw. “Your leadership is why we’re still here, unhurt. I want to be under it. Always.”
Trent’s eyes ballooned then narrowed before he cupped my face with his hands, pulling me to his lush mouth for a kiss.
The sky was clear, the amber sun began to fade, and the seagulls cawed as they flew low over the incoming waves of the Atlantic sea. We sat on the back porch, facing the water and breathing in the saltwater air whipping against our faces. My eyes low, partially from the extreme exhaustion of surviving the earlier storm and also from the wine Trent insisted I have when we traversed the beach for almost an hour and ended up on a boardwalk where we found a bar. We both had one drink, quietly with no one recognizing him, or maybe they simply didn’t care. For that, I was grateful. I wanted Trent to relax after this recent undertaking.
Here, back at the house, there were still few people around, no one near the beachfront of the property we stayed in. The debris from the storm dried up all around. It was peaceful, quiet at the end of an emotional stretch of days and what I thought was a near death experience. Despite the beach disaster from earlier, Macen Beach was beautiful. It was low key with privacy, but held the usual energy of a well-attended tropical setting. The houses were vast and picturesque. When we arrived last night, Trent and I held hands on the second floor deck, right off the bedroom we stayed in and enjoyed the sunset. Before the storm, the place was clean and the water the clearest I’d seen of the North American Atlantic. I could see why Shank wanted his remains to rest here.
Shank…
April sat at the other end of the wraparound porch, looking out into the roiling water. I smiled when she found my eyes, grateful she still wore that balm of tranquility around h
er.
“He sleep?” she asked, in amused disbelief.
I glanced down to my lap where Trent stood hunched over. His long thick arms encased my waist, his face pushed flat against my belly with only enough room to breathe. Sure enough, his eyes were closed and lips parted with soft snores escaping his mouth.
I nodded, wearing a big smile.
“Standing up?” She gasped.
He was. What started out as Trent being affectionate and hugging my waist while I sat on the ledge of the banister with my back resting against the beach house, turned out to be his napping position. I rubbed the back of his head, happy he was finally resting. Trent tried hiding his stress and worry from me, but I could see right through the deceptive front. As a child, he trained himself not to complain and to brave every adversity alone. But as Ezra preached a few weeks back, there are some storms a man isn’t supposed to endure alone. We all need someone; a couple of hours ago was demonstration of that for me. I had wished to be that someone he trusted one day. I wanted to earn it.
Instead, he traveled back and forth from Alpine to Camden every day since returning from Denver. He constantly checked in with April to be sure there was money to cover all of Shank’s final wishes. He did this against having his mother shoot her usual negative energy or blatant neglect his way. And then there was something with Trick. He hardly spoke to Trent. He didn’t even act as pallbearer, leaving it to Trent and Shank’s other nephews. I overheard him complaining to Cora Mae about not feeling included as I walked past them coming from the bathroom during the repast, but decided to not mention it to Trent. He had enough to shoulder. His fan base for one.
There had been media reports about Trent having left the Kings because he wasn’t in practice. How would they know that? Someone—a hating someone—from the inside would have had to start that. I didn’t understand because the Kings knew where Trent was and had even supported him. And all of the bloggers ran with that speculation. It pissed me off so bad, I texted Elle, Trent’s PR rep, last night after he’d fallen asleep to ask if she could do something. She tweeted from his account a message, thanking his team for their support during his time of loss, but didn’t specify who’d died. I’d learned early on that Trent didn’t discuss his personal life. But a part of me wondered if in this case he kept quiet because of the nature of his uncle’s death. Either way, it was his right.
Elle also sent out a message from his Instagram account. I stopped reading after the seventh comment: there were hundreds of them, many bashing him for being a quitter. The man couldn’t even mourn without critics, which is why I fought to keep the energy around him quiet. Nate Richardson requested additional body guards to fly down here to Macen Beach, South Carolina with us. I declined, explaining Trent asked Tyheem to come—for some reason—and that would be enough. Trent didn’t need added hype around him. He only needed his aunt. And…apparently me. When he asked if I was coming it was as though he asked out of courtesy. Maybe he thought I’d be offended if he didn’t ask—and I would have—but I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. I’d already made arrangements for Kyree to be with my mother for these two days we were due to be down here.
I mean… If it were me mourning, I would want Trent by my side and no one else.
“You know what Shank said the day before he went over?” April’s flat tone caught my attention. I glanced her way to find her staring at the water. “He said, Trent gon’ marry that girl. And she gon’ be mad ‘cause he gon’ want a whole bunch of babies. That girl ain’t tryna mess up her figure, pushing out a bunch of babies for his big ass.” The comedy in the tale was striking, but even more was her deadpan expression. I didn’t know how to take that.
Then she looked at me, still expressionless. All I could offer in return was a wry smile. I didn’t believe Trent would be thinking of a wife and kids anytime soon. He had so much to prove on the field. He’d said so himself. Trent was an entirely different man now, being back in the league, than he was when I met him as an unemployed former NFL’er.
“Yeah,” I sighed, rubbing Trent’s back, butterflies taking flight at the fantasy. “Now that Shank’s with God, he can propose that miracle to the Miracle-maker Himself.”
We were a ways from that. He didn’t even trust me.
“Huh!” she scoffed, fixated on the water. “You better get him in the bed. He’s tired and gotta go right back to work.”
“Yup. First thing in the morning,” I agreed, thinking about all the deliveries I had coming and the expenses of the ones I delayed these past few days. I didn’t even get a chance to catch him up with the most recent renovations. “Trent…” I tugged at him. “Baby, you need to get up and lay down.”
“I am laying down,” he whined against my stomach, tightening his arms around me.
“No. In a bed. You’re going to cramp.”
“Quit, Jade,” he growled. “I’m good.”
“No, you ain’t, boy!” April joined the fight, thankfully on my side. “You gon’ be in that position for the next few days if you stay like that a moment more.”
On a long angry and animalistic groan, Trent withdrew his arms and pivoted. A shriek ripped from my lungs when he lifted me from the banister and cradled me in his arms.
“A’ight, but you comin’ with.”
I giggled like a kid being tickled all the way inside the house and up to the bedroom.
“Trent…tiiiin!” she muffled her cries into the sheets.
God, I loved when she busted and called me by my first name. It was the only mouth that it agreed with when it was spoken. It made me feel official in my birthright, something I never had. And she clenched so tight as she milked all around me. Her walls trembling and her shoulders rattling. To reward her, I pumped harder, thrust deeper to intensify her lift off. My grip on her hair tightened and the fat of her peach wiggled, straining as she came hard, lying on her stomach. Jade’s body shook underneath me, the sweat from our work making it difficult for me to hold her juddering legs together. I liked torturing her like that when she came. Holding her while she exploded messed with her head, changed the intensity of her flight. I plowed into her until she stilled, but stayed on her back, my dick still buried inside her. We lay there panting in the dark as I showered her shoulders with kisses.
“You came?” she asked, trying to look over her shoulder.
“A long time ago.”
“How are you able to do that?” she breathed, amazement in her tone.
“When I have a sex fiend like you who needs it all the time and quality”—I thrust into her, earning a deep moan—“you gotta have the talent to keep up by lasting long. I learned that our first time.”
“Shut up,” she busted out laughing. “I’m the fiend, but you come home at one in the morning, waking me out of my sleep with this.”
She was right. It was late…or early, depending on how you viewed things. The past few days had been hectic with practice and the shakeup that happened because of Todd Browning’s arrest yesterday. Todd was the second string quarterback for the Connecticut Kings. He was a cool guy from Florida, a six-year vet, and fun to be around. I was still in shock from hearing he got caught with child porn on his devices. If I knew anything about those FEDdys it’s that they don’t come for you unless they can convict. It was a weird and disgusting charge. But just like I told the reporters who ran up on me outside of the Kings’ headquarters, I would be deferring all judgment to God, but would keep Browning and his family in my prayers. Eli wasn’t happy and the coaches had to reorganize right before a game. I was pushed up to second string because of it. The Kings were scheduled to play Atlanta the following afternoon. I was off for half a day then called back to the front office yesterday, at six in the morning for regrouping due to Todd’s absence. I stayed in Connecticut to practice today.
“I play in Connecticut tomorrow and have to make sure you’re straight before I bounce.” I thrust again.
“Mmmm…” she moaned, riling me up again. “But w
e were doing this same thing almost twenty-four hours ago before you got called back in.”
“Yup,” I licked from her shoulder up to her earlobe. “That’s how busy you keep me, Jelly.”
“Whatever—” she paused out of nowhere. I could feel her lift her head from the mattress. “Did you leave your truck lights on?”
“Nah.” My mouth moved to her back. Damn… I couldn’t get enough her soft skin and berry scent. I knew I had to get to moving soon. “That’s Tyheem waiting on me.”
“Why does Tyheem go every where with you? I’ve been meaning to ask before we lost Shank.”
“My muscle. He used to work for me before I got locked up and I hired him back.”
She laid her head back on the mattress. “You need a body guard, Trent?” she murmured. “Things are moving so fast.”
“Sure are. I got moved up to second string.”
“What does that mean?”
I laughed, forgetting Jade didn’t know anything about football.
“Each team has three quarterbacks, primarily. The first string is the main one they hope to stick with for the season—”
“That’s what you used to be?”
“Yeah. But that one could get injured or in my case, arrested, and need a backup. There are two contracted backups. I was the third backup and Todd Browning was the second. He got arrested yesterday on child pornography charges so they moved me up to second.”
“Wow.” Jade breathed ghostly. “So, you go next?”
I chuckled again nipping her ear, loving the feel of her soft curves beneath me. “Not really. Mayfair’s still the man. But anyway,” I decided to switch gears, “did you hire the grounds guy yet?”
“Yup. His name is Sambi and Kyree approves of him, too.” She smiled and faced the window.
“Good. I trust Kyree.”
“Ut!” she shrieked. “And what about me?”
“I trust you, too, at least I do your style. I really like those curtains you made for the living room.”