by Tiana Laveen
“Your pay was inconsistent. People would expect miracles from you and didn’t want to pay. You were losing integrity.”
“Integrity? I didn’t tell you that you were down on Wall Street just shoutin’ numbers all day and blowing smoke up people’s asses. You were lying to your clients half the time, selling them Pied Piper dreams, acting like a big shot, showin’ off. You’re dishonest with math, I create illusions with makeup. We’re one in the same. Get the fuck over yourself. What nerve!”
She pulled at her black silk bonnet that lay haphazardly on her head, her hair in twists for what she prayed would be a bomb ass twist out.
“All right, look, we don’t need to keep rehashing the past. This is about moving forward, the future. If it’s worth anything, I never meant that you were just painting on people’s faces, Vanessa… That was said in the heat of anger and you know it. Don’t take it out of context.”
“You’ve made similar statements when we were having a great day, with no disagreement in sight. You meant every word of it—just own it. The future can’t even hold a friendship if you keep lying to me and to yourself, too. You’re only saying that now because you want me to move back in with you. You thought I’d never leave because you provided for me. Well, surprise, surprise! I warned you. You didn’t take me seriously and well…” She shrugged. “Here we are.” The man emitted a long-suffering sigh on the other end of the line. “For your information, I am meeting with several new clients this week and my rent is paid two months in advance. I am doing just fine, okay? No need to worry about me. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, and no, I didn’t borrow any cash from my mother as you alluded to last time you called.”
“Well, good… I’m proud of you.” The man sounded about as sincere as a fox leading a mouse down into its den with the promise of perfectly fermented cheese. “You make it seem like it was all bad, Vanessa. We’ve had good times, and we can have them again.”
“You’ve been drinking and reminiscing, sugarcoating the atrocities and injustices.”
“Atrocities and injustices? Are you crazy? You never had it so good… you’re spoiled.”
“I need more than material goods to make me happy, Vincent. Guys like you say you hate gold diggers and then when you get someone that’s not, you don’t know what to do with her.”
“Bullshit. Even your own mother and your friends said you were a fool for leaving. That came out of your own mouth.”
“I’m fully aware that my friends think I’m a fuckin’ nut for leaving you, but all they saw were the cars, clothes and penthouse. They didn’t see how damn miserable I was because I had a roommate… not a lover, not a best friend, not a strong man that I could lean on. I kept it to myself so it came as a surprise to them when I said I’d had enough.”
“Please… baby, come on. Please come back home.”
“Home? That wasn’t home, that was just a house. When you were there, you weren’t… I wanted you, Vincent…all of you. Not just what was in your bank account. Sometimes it was pure Hell.”
“You make it sound like our relationship was a warzone.”
“For me at times it was. I never knew what to expect, what mood you’d be in, what emotional bombs would explode.” She took a deep breath, done with it all. “It’s been four months, Vincent. With all of the women who throw themselves at you, surely you can find someone else.”
“It’s not about finding someone else. You are the one that I love. I want what we had back then, baby… that’s all.”
She swallowed hard and bit down the sorrow that tried to take over. Vincent had been the love of her life. But she couldn’t keep holding on… things had been broken for so long.
“Yes, we did have good times, Vincent. I won’t deny that. You can be charming; you were generous, too, and I thank you for that. I loved your intelligence and the way you conducted business. You did provide a roof over my head, a very nice roof, but I need more than that!” She hated the way her voice quaked, her heart breaking all over again. “I can get my own roof, and I did. No, it’s not the high arched ceilings and crown molding I’m accustomed to, but it’ll do for now.”
“You’re on East 8th Street in Greenwich Village, Nessa. I mean, yeah, it’s decent, nice I suppose, but you can have so much more.”
“So what? I found a place I can afford, and I’m content with it. I know it’s a far cry from your spot on Broome Street in SoHo, but I can swing the rent. I don’t make Business Analysts’ money like you, Vince, but I’m making it.”
“Yeah, but you’re struggling and you don’t have to… no woman of mine should have to worry about her expenses. At least let me pay your rent for a few months until you get on your feet.”
“No. I know you, Vincent. You’ll just use that to swing over my head later. It’ll then be a reason for you to drop by unannounced, to feel like you own me again, and I’m telling you for the final time that my place is fine. It’s not roach or rat infested. It’s clean, tidy, the area is safe, the water is clear and doesn’t smell, my neighbors are quiet, and I like it here.”
“Sure, it’s a nice spot, but it’s a shoebox. You’re used to the four-bedroom condo we had over here together. You say a house isn’t a home and you’re right. You made this house into a home, baby. Besides, where are you storing all of that makeup that you use on your clients? It took up an entire closet on its own. You need room to work, to handle your business.”
Popping up from her seat, she quickly poured a glass of orange juice and sat back down.
“I’m making do and it’ll all be worth it in the end, Vincent. You’re a powerful man with an awesome job, living the life but I told you I wasn’t happy anymore more times than I can count. Now you spend your time trying to convince me I had something that I didn’t. I loved you, that is a fact, but if I didn’t feel loved in return then why sit around torturing myself? This whole conversation, as usual, has been about you and what you want. You should be grateful that I told you the truth.”
She stretched her legs and tried to tune out the arguing of her neighbor. When she’d told the man that this place was quiet, she’d lied. If the couple wasn’t arguing, they were having a loud party and if they weren’t having a loud party, they were fucking. Everything they did was loud… even walking across the motherfucking floor.
“What about us talking about getting married, huh? I guess that meant nothing to you.”
“We were supposed to be building something but you wouldn’t even touch me, Vince! How much of ‘I refuse to be neglected’ don’t you understand? I’m only thirty-two years old! I know that you’re forty, but that’s a far cry from being old. You hadn’t fucked me in over a year!”
She grabbed her glass of orange juice and took a few gulps to ease the burn in her throat from all the emotion that rose to the surface. “It’s not right, it’s not fair. I heard every excuse in the book. ‘I’m tired!’ ‘Not tonight!’ ‘You only think about sex!’ Do you know how that made me feel, Vincent? Do you have any idea how I felt when I’d dress in pretty lingerie for you, wait for you with candles, perfume on, my hair and nails done, and you’d look at me and go right to sleep? You have no idea how many times I cried about it, wondering what was wrong with me! I never cheated on you.”
“And how do I know that for certain?”
“Shove it up your ass. You know damn well I never stepped out on you. I never tried to make you feel less than, Vince… but enough was enough! I have needs.”
“So, now it’s crystal clear. It was about sex again, right?!”
“It’s not just the sex, for fuck’s sake. Don’t you get it?! It’s the lack of it and what it meant! You were sending me the message that you didn’t want me, not by what you said, but with what you refused to do! So no, Vince, I was not staying with you and no, I am not coming back! I want to get married one day to someone who loves me to death, someone who wants to spend time with me, wants to have a child, and sees value in the things I like to do! I want to be wi
th someone who doesn’t just tolerate my interests but is just as excited as I am about reaching my goals. I want to be with someone who doesn’t need a woman to just hang on their arm but have a true partner… someone who isn’t so focused on wealth but on the health of their relationship. I need someone who asks, ‘What that heart do?!’ Damn it, you just weren’t that into me and I accepted it! This is about winning and losing for you, I’m not a fuckin’ twenty-five cent prize in some gumball machine!”
“Vanessa, you fuckin’ bi—” He stopped short of saying that offensive word. “I swear! You owe me!” The all too familiar rage she’d almost forgotten about poured into his words. “I gave you every fucking thing, goddamn it! My family hated you, I didn’t care! I love you and this is what you do to me?! The thanks I get is coming home and all of your shit is gone. I tried to give you a month or two, time to figure out you messed up but this is dragging on way too long. You don’t even deserve me after the way you left. You couldn’t even be woman enough to tell me face to face. You complain about not getting any dick when I was working sixty or more hours a week! I was exhausted so that you could go on all those vacations, have a driver that took you everywhere you needed to go, and wear any name brand you wished. Your purse collection alone is worth close to twenty grand. You’re un-fucking-believable! Do you know how many women would’ve loved to have been in your shoes? Red bottoms at that!”
“Then go get one! I tried to be that ‘It’ girl, and I failed! I tried talking to you about the problems we were having, too. You wouldn’t hear of it. You dismissed everything! I can’t do this with you anymore, Vincent… I can’t.”
She disconnected the call, rocking her leg back and forth as her body swelled with heat. Nerves shot, she fought the angry tears, stemming from the years of pain that threatened to burst out from the freshly healed scars. Never had they had a coming to Jesus moment such as this… never had she laid it out so open and plainly but he’d pushed her, gave her no way out. She’d loved Vincent with all she’d had in her and it had hurt her more than he’d ever realize when she understood that she was no longer the woman he wanted nor needed.
Gulping the rest of the juice down, she headed to the bathroom to take a shower. Turning the water on, she waited until it warmed, then stepped under the heated stream with her loofah in hand. She bowed her head, allowing the warm stream to bathe her, baptize her in the name of the past, the present and hopeful future. The water was the cure… tears and release… the cure to help her let go, right now and forever. She slammed her fist against the teal tiles, and her body rocked and shook as if she’d caught a chill. It was hard to say goodbye to yesterday, but she understood that being used to something doesn’t mean it was designed to be your ‘forevermore’…
She fought the tears that tried to keep coming… to make a fool of her…
Nope. I am done crying over Vincent Cooper. I can’t afford to give that man even one more tear. All of this pain has to all be poured into my hustle, my dreams, the goals I’ve yet to reach. Wash the past away, step out into the sun…
Giovanni sat at his computer with his limp cock hanging out of his boxers. Spent, panting, sweaty, and still unsatisfied, the damn thing throbbed as a light breeze from the ceiling fan tickled the sensitive flesh. Somehow, he’d fallen asleep for a brief spell after he came. It had been a self-induced ejaculation, a quick release with not much to offer.
His home office looked like a den of sexual depravity, haphazard semen-soaked tissues and pump bottle lotion sold separately. Tonight’s selection for a quick one-man tryst was a stroll down memory lane. He played videos of various sexual escapades on his computer, a collage of tender pussies and gagging mouths. In the past, he’d taped sessions of himself and several of his conquests back to back, all organized by their first name. He used to enjoy how they’d look longingly into the camera as he fucked the shit out of them from behind. Or give a haughty, naughty grin into the fish eye lens while they sucked his dick for dear life.
He fancied himself an amateur photographer and videographer. Porn was nothing more than a natural extension of his twisted world, another day in the life of Giovanni Luciano. Due to his pride in his lovemaking skills, as well as his prized package, he had little concern should one of the videos accidentally make it out of his personal jurisdiction. He had no one to answer to. He wasn’t married or committed, so he could do whatever the hell he wished.
Or could he? Something had happened; he’d changed. He wasn’t certain when the transformation took place, but it must’ve landed on him somewhere in the last six months. Monotony had set in, one like he’d never known. He yawned and stretched, bored to death with it all.
Had his good times officially come to an end? A glorious session of replayed floozy footage of him being deep throated didn’t quite cut it anymore. It typically didn’t take much for him to reach the orgasmic promised land, but this had been happening way too often as of late… a strange roadblock, a cerebral encounter that no longer found his rendezvous from the past quite as stimulating.
Shoving his cock back into his underwear, he got to his feet and made his way to the master bathroom. As he stood at the white and gold trimmed pedestal sink washing his hands with the foamy grapefruit scented soap, he looked at himself in the mirror…
I’m thirty-four fuckin’ years old. I still look good for my age, right? I think so… I’m living the American dream. I love my job, I’ve got money, can buy almost whatever I want… friends, parties, good times… women… yeah, plenty of women… happiness… Am I happy? I think so… sometimes I’m not sure. Something is different, I want something but I’m not sure what… Something is missing I guess I could say. I mean… like what’s going on? What am I really doin’, ya know? What’s this about? Hell, what’s life about? There’s got to be more to this. All the sex is startin’ to feel and look the same. I’m in too deep, it’s too fuckin’ much. Gotta do something else, right? Existence is what? Fun, fitness, and fuckin’… I need more. What the fuck am I doing with my life?!
He turned off the water faucet and the stream stopped abruptly. His hands just hung there over the edge of the basin, his green eyes still resting on his bleak reflection. For the first time in his life, Giovanni didn’t like what he saw.
He grabbed a towel and quickly dried off his hands before heading to the kitchen. In no time flat, he was pulling the cork from a bottle of wine and downing a fourth of it in a single gulp. As he stood there shirtless, dog bone print boxers hanging off his perfectly chiseled body, his cellphone rang. He stomped back to his master suite, wine bottle still in hand, and made his way over to his desk. After placing the wine bottle down and tossing out the cum rags in the nearby trashcan, he looked at the Caller-ID and answered.
“Hi Demi…”
“Hey, Gio. Sorry I had to reschedule our session but are you free tomorrow? It’s leg day for me, I believe.”
“Yeah, I can meet you at your home or we can meet up at Chelsea Piers. Your choice.”
“I’ll already be out that way, so let’s meet over at the fitness center.”
“Chelsea Piers it is.”
He grabbed the bottle once again and swallowed, barely tasting it as it raced down his throat. He hoped to be good and drunk in the next hour or so.
“All right great. Thanks for squeezing me in so last minute, Gio. I had an audition in France and just got back in town. My schedule changed and things were out of my control.”
“No problem, things happen. You know I will always make time for you. See you tomorrow.”
He disconnected the call and took another gulp from the bottle before placing it back down on the desk.
Hmmm, it’s almost empty now… can’t have that.
He went back to the kitchen to retrieve a second bottle, just in case, then retraced his steps to the bedroom, the bottle of wine in one hand, his cellphone in the other. The silver beamed, industrial style bed in the middle of the room looked so opulent, draped with black sheets. He stood
at the door, staring at it. Opulent, yes … but so barren… so rotten… so beautiful… so sexy… so empty…
He went to sit on the edge of it. Hunched over, he stared out the window, the white curtains drawn, yet light enough to allow the city lights to shine in. They twinkled like crushed rainbow-colored diamonds, living and breathing like glitter-covered lungs, like some gorgeous twenty-four-carat gold monster you simply couldn’t turn away from right before it swallowed you whole.
Just do it… but what am I going to tell her? She’ll say that shit is mad creepy… Who gives a shit what you tell her? Just tell her the truth…
I can’t tell ’er the truth, she’ll think I’m some sorta weirdo…
But you ARE a weirdo, you just hide it well.
Not really…
Sure you are and sure you do.
She might be a good fuck; the mean ones always are…
I like mean chicks. When I break ’em down it feels doubly good. Evil bitches. She had good comebacks though… gotta give that to her. That’s the whole problem though. I think I might want to get serious, settle down.
Yeah, so what? What if she turns out to be true blue? What if she doesn’t let you down like all the others?
But who the fuck settles down in Manhattan nowadays? Everyone is garbage, even me sometimes.
Fuckin’ trash… dead ass serious. I need someone to practice on to see if I can even hack it… You know, the real deal. Like maybe one day havin’ a broad in the house, a ring on her finger and her stomach jetted out to here after I’ve knocked her up real good.
Kids? Jesus… gettin’ a bit ahead of yourself, maestro. Kids are expensive… Shit, maybe? My grandmother’s been riding my ass about kids. Didn’t have the heart to tell ’er half the chicks in Manhattan swallowed her great-grandkids.
Relationships may not be so bad, though. Yo’, Grandma! Your grandson is a fuckin’ whore and he loves it! See? That’s depressing… it really is. Commitment? I’ve done it once; maybe I can do it again.