The Final Play

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The Final Play Page 2

by Shelly Ellis


  Derrick was considering that, too. Maybe Cole hadn’t run away from school, but was fleeing from something else . . . or someone else.

  “The boys trust me. They might tell me stuff that they won’t tell the rest of you,” she insisted.

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  After all that he had put her through, she would still be willing to help him?

  “I know. But I care about Cole and what happens to him.”

  He stared at her for several seconds before slowly nodding. “Okay. Thank you.”

  “Let’s be clear though. This ain’t for you. We’re done.” She pointed at herself then him then back again. “This is for Cole.” She zipped her duffel bag closed and threw the strap over her shoulder. “I’ll wait for you in the living room while you get dressed,” she said.

  He watched silently as she walked out of the room.

  Chapter 2

  Jamal

  Jamal Lighty opened his eyes to light streaming through the bedroom blinds, surprised to find himself in bed alone. Melissa must have woken up before him, but he hadn’t even felt her stir or leave. He must have been sleeping pretty hard. Not surprising, considering the night they’d both had.

  “Lissa?” he called out. “Lissa!”

  No one answered.

  He pushed himself up to his elbows and stared tiredly around the empty room. His gaze landed on the calico cat perched at the end of the mattress, staring at him with the unflinching gaze of an Egyptian sphynx.

  “Hey, Brownie,” he mumbled in greeting to Melissa’s cat, smacking his lips and wincing at the sour taste in his mouth. “What’s up? Where’s your mama?”

  The cat answered him by purring softly and walking across the feathery duvet, before head-butting him in the bare chest. Jamal laughed and rubbed Brownie’s head and flank. He was rewarded with more purrs. After a minute, the cat flipped onto his back, offering him his tummy for a rub.

  “Let’s table this for now. We’ll continue after I pee, okay?” he said to Brownie before tiredly crawling off the bed and walking to Melissa’s en suite bathroom.

  He flicked a switch near the door and winced at the bright light coming from the vanity mirror. He then looked around him again.

  Her bathroom was as clean as her bedroom, with dark granite countertops, white subway tile, and chrome finishes. Body gels, perfumes, makeup, and hair products were all neatly arranged. He examined a few bottle labels and glanced in the mirror, catching a glimpse of himself. He winced again at his reflection.

  He stared at his wheat-colored face. Under his five-o’clock shadow, a purple-hued bruise had started to bloom along his jawline where Derrick had punched him last night, and one side of his lip was cut and swollen. He probably should have iced it to prevent the swelling, but he’d been admittedly too preoccupied with other things last night to think about tending to his injuries.

  Other things, he thought with widened eyes and rubbing his hand over his curly head. That was an understatement.

  His mind flashed to images of him and Melissa humping for dear life on her sofa and her living room wall. The frenzied passion of their first tryst had caught him off guard, to say the least. He still wasn’t convinced it wasn’t some angry revenge fuck on her part. She’d wanted to get back at Derrick for cheating on her; sex with his former friend was one of the best ways to do it. Jamal wondered if that explained her absence this morning. Maybe she had woken up regretting what she had done and was patiently waiting in her living room for him to get dressed and get the hell up out of there. Well, he wouldn’t linger much longer if that’s what she wanted. He’d had a good time; it seemed like she had, too. He had feelings for her but he knew how this went; sometimes feelings aren’t requited. He’d have to accept this was where their ride ended.

  Jamal turned, raised the toilet seat, used the bathroom, and washed his hands. He threw water onto his face a few times, hoping to get rid of the last remaining cobwebs of sleepiness before his drive back home. He planned to grab his clothes from the bedroom floor and dress, leaving his shower for when he got back to his own apartment. But first, he had to get this stale taste out of his mouth. It was driving him crazy. He glanced at her toothpaste and toothbrush near the faucet.

  Nah, can’t use those.

  Sure, they’d slept together, but using someone’s toothbrush seemed like a level of intimacy that went beyond even sex.

  He bent down and opened one of the doors of the cabinet beneath her counter and quickly found a bottle of mouthwash. He removed the lid, tossed some of the minty liquid into his mouth, closed his eyes, and gargled. When he opened his eyes again and spit the froth into the bathroom sink, he found Melissa standing in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the door frame, grinning at him.

  “Mornin’,” she said, casually twirling the belt of her blue silk robe while one sienna-hued leg dangled out seductively. She was all dimples this morning with a broad smile. She’d taken out her twists from last night and now piled her golden red coils atop her head in a loose bun. Melissa was practically glowing.

  “H-h-hey,” he stuttered, turning around to face her, wiping mouthwash from his lips with the back of his hand. “Good . . . good morning.”

  “How was your sleep? It had to be good. You didn’t get up even when I took a shower. You were still snoring.”

  “Oh? I . . . uh . . . I guess I was really tired.”

  “Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. I was in the kitchen with my earbuds on, grading papers. I’m way behind this week. I see you found your way around though.” She gestured to the bottle he held.

  “Oh! Oh, yeah! I . . . uh, I found it in the cabinet,” he said nervously, setting the bottle back on the counter and screwing the lid back on. He shoved it onto one of the cabinet shelves then shut the door, feeling his cheeks flush with heat.

  He should’ve known the morning after with Melissa would be awkward, though he seemed to be the one who was nervous, not her.

  “I wasn’t looking through your stuff though,” he explained. “I just wanted . . . you know . . . the mouthwash.”

  “I didn’t think you were, Jay.”

  “I hope it wasn’t . . . umm . . . that I didn’t . . . I hope it wasn’t too presumptuous, is what I mean.”

  She laughed, shook her head, and strolled toward him. “Using my mouthwash wasn’t presumptuous. This definitely is though,” she said, lowering her hand and wrapping it around his dick while staring boldly into his eyes. She raised her mouth to his, placing butterfly kisses on his lips, as she began to stroke him.

  Jamal felt dual sensations of shock and sexual pleasure. He started to harden in her hand.

  So Melissa hadn’t regretted last night; instead, she wanted a repeat, and he was more than happy to oblige her.

  He slipped his tongue inside her mouth and tilted back her head, deepening their kiss. She fell back against the counter as he undid the belt at her waist and shoved the panels of her robe open, tugging the garment off her shoulders and letting it pool at her feet on the bathroom floor. She was naked underneath. One hand snaked to her breasts while the other went between her legs. She spread them wider, raising one leg and wrapping it around him as he shifted his kisses from her mouth to her neck. She moaned at his touch, moving her pelvis against his hand.

  “You’re gonna have to stop, Lissa,” he panted against her ear a few minutes later.

  “Why?” she asked, increasing the tempo of her stroke.

  “’Cuz I’m gonna cum in your hand,” he grunted.

  “And what’s wrong with that?” she asked with an impish smile just before he pulled her hand away.

  “Because there’s a lot more I want to do to you before that happens,” he whispered. He eased her out of the bathroom back into the bedroom, kissing her again.

  He noticed out of the corner of his eye that the bedroom door was closed and Brownie was absent. Good, he thought. He’d give the cat the rubdown he’d promised later. For now, all his attentio
n was focused on Melissa.

  He had told her the truth; there was a lot more he wanted to do to her this time around. The sex last night had been good, but way too fast. He’d urged himself to savor the moment but that was hard to do when the whole thing had lasted all of ten minutes. He wanted to take his time with Melissa for their second round.

  They landed sprawled on her bed with lips still locked. It took almost Herculean strength to wrench his mouth away. He spied the box of condoms sitting on her night table. In their fervor, they had skipped using one last night. They wouldn’t again. He quickly put one on and came back to her. He shifted his mouth to her breasts and she started moaning again as he ran his tongue over the dark nipples. He descended lower, kissing his way down her rib cage and stomach, licking her navel, and finally he spread her legs wide. He tested the wetness with his fingers first and he instantly felt her tense, saw the muscles flex along her thighs and her stomach. He began to rub her there, watching as she squirmed and whimpered. He was utterly fascinated.

  For years, Melissa had not only seemed out of Jamal’s reach as Derrick’s girl, but also seemed to exert an almost magnetic power over him from afar. It had been a battle sometimes not to stare at her when she smiled or draw close to her when she spoke, to not make it obvious to the rest of the world how he really felt about her. But she was no longer out of his reach. Her body was responding to his control. He could touch her, kiss her. He wanted to taste her, too.

  He removed his hand and lowered his mouth between her thighs, throwing both her legs over his shoulders. She tasted how he thought she would: as sweet and wet as a peach. As he licked and sucked, her moans turned into shouts, then screams. She yelled his name and cursed. Her legs began to wobble. Her toes curled. Just before she came, he centered himself between her thighs, steadied her hips, and plunged forward. He pumped his hips rhythmically while looking down at her, feeling her tighten around him, watching as pure ecstasy washed over her face while she orgasmed, screaming something that didn’t sound quite like the English language.

  Seeing her like this, watching her writhe beneath him, he wanted to come then, but he held back. He wanted to make this last even longer if he could.

  He spread her legs wider and rubbed her clit again, even as he plunged, even as she begged him to let her catch her breath.

  “Wait! Damn it! Shit!” she yelled. “Oh, God! Oh, God!” Despite her protests, Melissa began to buck underneath him again, moaning and whimpering as she did it. She started clawing at his back, digging her nails into the flesh. Her bucking became almost convulsions as she closed her eyes. She screamed again when the second orgasm rocked her.

  Jamal felt her tighten around him, and what little control he had, he lost this time. He braced himself for the rush and let out a long, guttural groan as he came. He slumped on top of her, twitching, jerking, and moaning as the last waves of pleasure ended.

  Minutes later, he pulled out of her and rolled back onto the mattress.

  They both stared at the ceiling in silence until Melissa did a slow clap, making him cock an eyebrow at her.

  “Why are you clapping?”

  “Because you are really, really good at this!” she exclaimed with widened eyes. “Shit!”

  They both laughed, waiting for their heart rates to return to normal.

  “Thanks. So are you.” He lazily rubbed the soft skin along her inner thigh, and kissed her bare shoulder. “You sound surprised though.”

  “Surprised by what?”

  “That I’m good at this.”

  “Not surprised but . . . how should I put it?” She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. She blew a gust of air between her inflated cheeks then licked her lips. “All those years I knew you, I never took you for the type. You know?”

  That pronouncement made him frown. “No, I don’t know. What type?”

  “A headboard banger . . . a ‘make you speak in tongues’ type. You know what I mean, Jay!” She nudged his side playfully with her elbow.

  The truth was, he usually wasn’t that type. None of his past girlfriends ever would have described him that way. He usually was a lot more reserved in the bedroom, but with Melissa he felt inspired. He wanted to try damn near everything he could imagine and had fantasized about for the past twenty years—if she’d let him.

  She turned onto her side and beamed at him. “You’re always so quiet and reserved. But it’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it?” she said, bringing her mouth to his, kissing him slowly, toying with his lips. Jamal kissed her back. It didn’t take long for the kiss to deepen and for the screams to start up again.

  * * *

  Several hours later, Jamal stepped into the lobby of his apartment building, sipping coffee from the metal to-go mug Melissa had given him.

  A goofy smile was on his face. He should be exhausted, but he was still surfing on the high of serotonin and endorphins, though he knew the crash would come soon.

  Jamal had just left Melissa’s apartment after four rounds of loud, uninhibited lovemaking, topped off with breakfast in bed and a nap in between. Thank God for the runs he did three times a week. It’d built up his endurance. If it hadn’t been for all that cardio training, he never would’ve made it out of there alive. But even if he’d died today, he would’ve died a very happy man.

  “Good morning,” he now said to one of his neighbors—an elderly black woman in a pink tracksuit and matching visor, who lived on his floor.

  “I think you mean good afternoon, young man,” she said, staring at him warily as he passed her.

  He paused, pulled up the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket, and glanced down at his wristwatch, surprised to see that it was already after two o’clock. “You’re right! It is afternoon, isn’t it?”

  Time flies when you’re having a good time, he thought wryly before continuing to the elevators.

  “Are you all right, sweetheart?” the old woman asked, eyeing him.

  He paused again and turned around to look at her. “Sure. Why?”

  “What happened to your face?”

  Jamal raised his hand to his chin, gingerly touching the bruised skin. He had almost forgotten about it. It had to look ghastly by now though, all purple and swollen.

  “Oh! Uh, I fell down last night while I was walking home.” He forced a chuckle. “I’m clumsy sometimes.”

  The old woman sucked her teeth and shook her head. “You young people and your drinkin’ and your carryin’ on . . . You should be more careful!” She pointed a gnarled finger at him. “I hope you weren’t driving! Could’ve gotten into a car accident and hurt somebody.”

  “No, I wasn’t driving, ma’am.”

  “Humph,” she grunted before turning back toward the lobby’s gold revolving doors, muttering to herself as she adjusted her visor.

  Jamal finally reached the elevators, where he saw a boy in a hoodie sitting on the marble bench. He looked to be no more than sixteen or seventeen. He paused from reading his cell phone to look up at Jamal, who was pressing the up button. Jamal nodded at him in greeting before taking another sip from his coffee.

  As he waited for the elevator car to arrive, Jamal wondered what Melissa was doing right now. She said she was supposed to meet her best friend, Bina, for lunch and then come back to her place to finish grading papers and work on her fourth-grade lesson plan for the week. He wondered when she would get back home. Maybe he should call her later, ask if she wanted him to stop over again tonight.

  No, don’t do that, he warned himself.

  They’d literally just said goodbye to one another less than an hour ago. He didn’t want to seem overeager, or worse, come off like he was harassing her. But it was hard to shut out those flashes of her bucking underneath him as they made love, or the saucy lick she did before bending over and hooking her hands onto the headboard. He could remember the outline of her face as she stared up at the ceiling while they talked, and the way she threw back her head and laughed at his joke before biting in
to a strawberry, feeding him the rest. He had licked the juice from her fingers as he gazed at her, entranced, like she’d cast some spell over him.

  Because she has cast some spell over me.

  Jamal closed his eyes, blowing air through his inflated cheeks. “Goddamn,” he whispered.

  It was bad enough that he had already fallen hard for Melissa, and he still didn’t know if his feelings were reciprocated. He was no longer in the friend zone, but he still couldn’t say if they were more than just fuck buddies. He had to get his emotions in check, because if he didn’t watch out, he could easily become addicted to this woman. And who the hell wanted to be a strung-out junkie constantly looking for his next fix?

  He opened his eyes when he heard the ding signifying that the elevator had arrived. The doors opened and he stepped inside. He noticed that the boy sitting on the bench stood and walked onto the elevator car with him. Jamal pressed the button to take him to the eleventh floor. The boy leaned in front of him and pressed the button to the thirteenth floor. They both rode up in silence.

  As the elevator ascended Jamal continued to drink his coffee. He glanced again at the teenager. He was a bit taller than Jamal, which wasn’t surprising. Being five feet, seven inches, Jamal had long ago reconciled himself to the fact that most men were taller than him. The teen was a couple of shades darker and slight in build. The hoodie he wore looked about two sizes too big for his slender frame. Jamal wasn’t sure why the teen was wearing a hoodie at all. He had to be hot in it; it was almost eighty degrees outside today.

  The elevator dinged again and the compartment came to a stop. The doors opened and Jamal stepped onto his floor, reaching into the pocket of his rumpled tuxedo jacket for his keys. He noticed right before the doors closed that the boy also hopped out. Jamal glanced over his shoulder at him.

  “Pressed the wrong button, huh?” Jamal said.

  The boy shrugged.

  Jamal continued on his way to his apartment, but as he walked, his euphoria from spending the morning in bed with Melissa was quickly being replaced with a growing sense of unease. The boy was following him—he could feel it. He’d felt this way before, back in 2001 when a few dudes in his neighborhood had decided to jump him and rob him, stealing his money and his brand-new sneakers as he walked home from school.

 

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