Creative Love (Ladies of L.U. #1)

by J. Nichole

  "Art has its way of changing forms." Bryan stands beside me and says, "I'll let you know when I have my pieces here and you can pick something."

  She nods and waves, walking away from us. My eyes follow her until she disappears into the darkness of the bar. I turn to Bryan and ask, "One of your flings?" He nods his head. "Did you tell her I was your sister?"

  He looks at me with his eyes drawn together. "Why would I do that?"

  I shrug my shoulders. "So she doesn't think you're on a date."

  "No. That was only for you to get some dick. Crazy phenomenon between men and women." He looks around us then leans in closer as if he's revealing a secret. "Men keep their distance if they feel a woman is taken. Woman on the other hand accept it as a challenge." He grabs his phone. "I wouldn't doubt it if I had a text or call from her before we made it back to the apartment."

  In the thrill of the dance floor I forgot to check my phone. I grab it from my purse and see several texts from Laila. "Speaking of texts, Laila is home." My smile grows wide. "Ready to get out of here?"

  "Wow." Bryan grabs his chest. "Just like that you're done with me."

  Putting my water glass on the bar, I link my arm with Bryan and walk toward the door. "Your words not mine." Darkness has settled and I shiver from the chill in the air. Brooklyn at night is different from Manhattan at night; the people on the streets look like they're at home. In Manhattan the people we passed looked like visitors. At the very least, they looked like commuters.

  "Maybe you should have had that third drink." I look at Bryan through the side of my eyes. "You look too sober for this subway ride." He points up the street. "We aren't far from the apartment, thankfully. We'll take it a few stops up."

  "Do all of your flings get a piece of art to commemorate the experience?" Bryan laughs. "That must be some serious dick. Needs to be memorialized."

  He nudges my arm and says, "I don't like to brag." He wipes his hand over his beard. "I'm more of a show-and-tell type of guy." We stop at the bottom of the subway entrance. "Would you like a piece of my art?" My mouth drops but Bryan can't see my response. He's standing in front of me at the ticket machine. He turns around and hands me a card. "Was that a yes? Not sure I heard you." I grab the card from him and avoid his question.

  Usually, I can go toe to toe with a guy, but the heat burning my cheeks is telling me otherwise. Maybe because I would like a piece of his art. Better yet, I want to know if his dick is worth memorializing. "What do we do now?"

  "Scared?"

  "The subway can't be that bad." Bryan smiles and shakes his head. He looks down and I follow his eyes. "Wait. What?" I look away from the bulge in his pants. I rub my hands together to resolve the moisture that's pooling there, but it's not doing a thing for the moisture between my thighs.

  He laughs a hearty laugh then wraps his arm around my shoulder. "Let's take this subway ride before you rub your hands apart."

  We step onto the train and the stench Bryan warned me about hits me and I can't control my gag reflex. I place my hand over my mouth and look to find a seat. Bryan tugs me toward an empty bench. "Only three stops before we get off." I close my eyes but Bryan nudges me until I squint at him. "You came for the experience." He points across from us at a sign marked with graffiti. "The only good thing about this space is the street art."

  At the next stop a group of people step on the train. A guy who looks like he stepped out of the eighties stands in front of us in an Adidas tracksuit and matching Adidas shoes. Bryan points to my shoes and reminds me of my connection to the stranger. I shake my head and grab my neck. Unlike him I'm not rocking a big gold chain. Bryan whispers, "We're in New York. We can get you one of those on a street corner."

  I try to laugh through my hand but fail, letting the piss mixed with garbage smell invade my nose. "Think we could walk from the next stop?"

  “We’re on here now, we should just ride it out for one more." Bryan leans forward with his arms resting on his thighs and his face drawn into a scowl. Even with a scowl on his face he's sexy. I almost feel bad for making him endure this ride.

  Bryan hops up and grabs my hand. He ushers me out of the train and up the subway stairs without stopping. When we are outside I move my hand and take a deep breath, thankful that the smell from the train is not embedded into my nose. "Next time I'll take you at your word."

  Bryan reaches down wrapping his arms around me. I return his hug and ask, "What's that for?"

  "It usually takes longer for me to persuade women to trust me." We walk away from the subway station and I'd be happy if that was the last time I ever saw it. "Too bad we are headed to the box with only one bathroom. I need to wash off that funk."

  I rake my hands over my arms. "Yeah, we may have to flip to determine who goes first."

  We stop in front of the apartment building that I would have overlooked had Bryan not slowed his pace. At night the facade is not recognizable and blends in seamlessly with the neighboring buildings. "Or we could just hop in together." Bryan grins but I can't separate his humor from truth.

  Lightheartedly I say, "If we can get past Chris and Laila." He holds the door open for me and the woman exiting the building.

  Bryan catches up with me before my finger presses the elevator call button. "Did you enjoy your tour around New York?" We step into the empty elevator car. "If not, your homegirl may kick me out." Just like that our banter is over. Guess it was humor.

  "If art sales don’t pick up before you run out of money you have a career as a guide." I look at him leaning against the elevator wall with his hands in his pockets. His eyes are watching me carefully, and I'm hoping these elevator doors open before I want to pounce on him. We stare at each other but I keep myself on my side of the elevator and he doesn't move.

  "It'll be a humble life." We both watch as the elevator doors open and he says, "After you."

  I walk to the apartment door, taking each step cautiously. Out front, my fist stills before the door. I want to see Laila, but I don't want my time with Bryan to end here. He hovers behind me and although he complained of smelling like hot garbage I can smell a faint woodsy, spicy scent that I'll always associate with him. Then I knock. Before I can no longer resist him, I knock again until Laila opens the door. I exhale. I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I was reminded I needed to breathe.

  Laila wraps me in her arms and I yell, "Damn girl. I had told Chris I was coming for you if they didn't let you out of that place."

  Laila laughs and whispers in my ear, "From the look of you two I don't think you cared one bit." I smile and release her from our embrace. I look around the apartment to search for Chris and she says, "He's in the room."

  Bryan finds a seat on the couch and is swiping through his phone. "Laila, what do you have planned for your girl for the rest of the night?" He looks over to me. "I pretty much showed her all of the highlights of the city."

  I nod in agreement. "Yes, he was a great tour guide." Laila walks toward the kitchen and pulls a bottle of Hennessy out of the cabinet followed by a bottle of coke.

  "I was thinking we'd stay in tonight and catch up." She winces. "I have to work early in the morning." Before I can respond she puts her hand in the air to stop me. "But I won't be working all day."

  "What exactly are you doing anyway?" I sit on a barstool in front of her. "Can't you write an article from just about anywhere?" When Laila graduated from L. U. she had an offer to work at What's Happening Jacksonville? where she would have stayed in Florida. Chris had different plans for her. He was moving to New York and got her an offer at Millennial Magazine.

  She pours a few glasses of Hennessy, and handing me one, she says, "I can write from just about anywhere. But this weekend I'm working on a story with a team of people. We are up against a tight deadline and after the editor scrapped our first submission, we had to start from scratch mid-week."

  Frowning I say, "Sounds tough. Much more complicated than my day job."

  Bryan sits beside me
. "Laila, are you hoarding all that for the two of you?" He points to the glasses.

  Chris walks out of the room looking as if he just rolled over from a nap. With sleep lines imprinted on his face he looks to all of us and smiles. "Packed house tonight."

  Laila passes each of them a glass. With her glass raised in the air she says, "To our humble beginnings. May they always remind us to work harder." We clank glasses and Chris takes Bryan to the living room to leave Laila and I alone to talk.

  "How is your job going?" Instead of taking a seat beside me she hops onto the kitchen counter.

  "Definitely not what I want to be doing with my life for long. Documentation and sitting in meetings most of the day. Reviewing manuals for comparison. Listening to old white guys try to humor me. It's for the birds."

  "Your description almost put me to sleep. I'm sure it's hard for you to be bored all day. Although I have long hours, I like what I'm doing." She looks over to Bryan and Chris sitting in the living room. "How was your day?" she asks in a low whisper. Biting my lip I'm trying to conceal my smile, but Laila catches on quick and her mouth drops open. "Wait did y'all..."

  "No," I yell louder than necessary.

  She starts laughing and takes a sip of her drink. "Why not?" She looks around the apartment. "Chris and I can leave you alone for a bit."

  Chapter Five

  Bryan

  Chris raises his glass and says, "You told me you needed Henny to tell me what happened that day." I look to the kitchen and watch Nicole lean into Laila. Whispering in this matchbox apartment is necessary for the sake of privacy.

  "Damn dude." Chris draws my attention back to him. "You feeling her?" As I shake my head, the reality of his question weighs on me. I can't remember the last time, if one existed, that I didn't just want to fuck a chick and keep it moving.

  "That day was crazy." To avoid staring at Nicole I adjust myself and face Chris directly. From where I sit I can look out of the window, half the size of the wall, and see the Brooklyn Bridge. "You still haven't had the privilege to work with Dad in all his glory." Chris' eyes narrow as he listens. He's been Dad's golden child since birth. "At times I think he shielded you from his personality to ensure you stayed on board."

  "And why he thinks I should be the one to carry the torch, I have no idea." Chris stares into his empty glass. "We may need more of this before this story is over." But he doesn't move from his spot.

  "Growing up David was the one who was the most interested in the business. Like Dad's protégé`. Until he wasn't anymore." Out of the three of us, David is the only one who truly wants to be in the business. He understands the market and has spent endless time learning the ins and outs of real estate. He even sacrificed a professional sports career to be in Tennessee. He's been ready and willing waiting on my dad to retire.

  Chris wasn't old enough to understand that situation either. Being the youngest child affords you the opportunity to come in after some of the bullshit of life has already happened, and because it's bullshit, nobody rehashes the memories for your sake.

  "That's another story for another day. I don't understand how David fell from Dad's good graces." Chris shakes his head. "Our family is more complicated than I thought." I nod my head in agreement.

  "You know Mrs. Davenport, right?" I look at Chris to wait for his reaction and he looks up to the ceiling trying to recall his memory. "The Davenports, her husband was mayor when we were growing up." He looks at me with a smirk on his face. "Anyway. They were our clients." I stop and shake my head. "She was one of our clients." Chris shrugs his shoulders.

  "Damn." He smiles slightly then says, "I think I know where this could be going."

  "Yeah you can probably guess. She and her husband were separated, and she was actually working with us to sell one of their properties. She planned to move out of Tennessee." I look behind me to Nicole and her and Laila are still talking in a low whisper. "I love all women, but never had a thing for older women."

  Chris laughs and looks at me. "How old is old?"

  I smirk. "Older than Mom." I sigh realizing how bad that sounds. "Don't get me wrong Mrs. Davenport is one of those woman who has transcended time. If I saw her on the street and didn't know who she was I'd probably shoot my shot."

  "Damn. Okay." Chris stands up and grabs my empty glass from my hand. "We need a refill." When Chris goes into the kitchen Laila engages him. She tells him how hungry she is and asks if he wants to grab something to eat. Nicole looks over her shoulder and our eyes meet.

  Instead of either of us looking away we both stare until Laila interrupts us saying, "In a few we'll run out to get some food." She stretches her neck toward me. "You and Nicole can get comfortable and we'll bring y'all something back." Laila is far from dumb. I know what she's trying to do and I don't mind at all.

  "We can let the guys stay here. You've ditched me all day." I'm surprised Nicole is denying herself a chance to stick around with me.

  Chris looks over to me and his eyes grow wide. "I mean we could just order delivery and nobody has to leave." He walks back over to the couch handing me my drink. "Probably too late for you two to be out alone on these gritty New York streets."

  Laila sighs in defeat. "Let me get my phone to find a restaurant that will deliver." She leaves the kitchen and Nicole doesn't look back at me.

  "So Mrs. Davenport," Chris sips his drink. "The fine ass cougar."

  I laugh and shake my head. An image of her body is embedded in my memory. The thought of her makes my dick shudder. "I knew she wanted me. What I didn't know is that she was just trying to get back at her husband. Using me as a pawn in her evil game of chess."

  "Sounds like some serious shit."

  "It was. At least in Dad's eyes. When her husband found out, he called Dad and asked 'What type of brothel are you running?’ Punk ass." If he wasn’t old we may have had it out, but I admit I shouldn't have banged his wife. Not like I pursued her though.

  "So how'd dad know it was you? And what'd he say."

  "Who else would be bold enough to bang Mrs. Davenport?" Chris and I both laugh. I look back to Nicole again. Although her back is toward me I can see her hand scrolling on her phone. Laila is in front of her doing the same. I assume they are looking for food options.

  "On that day he called you into the office what happened?"

  "I went into his office and he told me about his little conversation with Mr. Davenport. Told me I wouldn't make it in the company if I didn't put my dick aside." I tap my fingers together to indicate “blah blah blah.” "Some other shit about me being a rebel."

  Chris rolls his eyes. "And you just quit?"

  "It wasn't just the fact that he had an issue with me fucking a bad bitch. It was that he told me I thought my art could sustain me and I didn't need the company." I looked back out the window to the Brooklyn Bridge. "That if I cared as much for the business as I did for my paintings I'd make it far." The grip on my glass tightens as I rekindle the feelings from that day. "The thing is the business was never for me. I dropped out of school because I realized art was a bigger part of me and I was neglecting it."

  "Quitting and moving to New York to pursue your art career is like a fuck you to Dad, right?"

  I smile because my brother's interpretation of the situation is spot on. "Exactly."

  "You better make it in the art world. I'd hate to see what would happen if Dad had the opportunity to say 'I told you so'."

  "It helped that Mrs. Davenport felt like shit for what happened."

  Chris' eyes bulge. "For real?"

  "Yup. She commissioned a piece and convinced her friends to do the same."

  "And because I'm no fool I made sure they paid a pretty penny for those pieces." I laugh, remembering each of the women being excited to receive their art. "I even heard from one of them that the piece I sold Mrs. Davenport hung proudly in her master bedroom. Her husband had no clue what he saw each and every day."

  "Yeah? What was the piece you sold her called?"
/>   I rub the stubble growing outside of my goatee. "Loveless marriage."

  "Wow." Chris pats my shoulder. "Sounds like a checkmate to me."

  "Food should be here in a few minutes," Laila shouts from the kitchen.

  Chris and I walk into the kitchen and ask, "What did you order?"

  Nicole looks at Laila with a coy smile that makes my dick shudder again. "Chinese."

  "What's that smile for?" I ask.

  "I want to have a full New York experience, including cheap Chinese food from a sketchy restaurant."

  I look at Laila and say, "Being around your friend should come with hazard duty pay." Laila looks up at me and cocks her head. "Riding the subway, eating sketchy food. She's determined to kill me."

  We all laugh and then Laila breaks up the fun by telling us that she has to work again in the morning. "One day you won't have to work so hard." Chris pulls Laila into his chest wrapping his arms around her neck. "One day I'll come home and tell you to quit your job."

  Laila leans back and says, "But it's the job you got for me."

  “Right. We'll have something of our own one day.” Nicole and I sigh simultaneously. Chris looks to me and says, “Don't hate because you don't want to settle down.”

  My eyes turn toward Nicole and she looks away. "Whatever dude. Save that mushy stuff for the bedroom." I pass him my glass. "In the meantime fill 'er up."

  A loud knock bellows at the door and Laila says, “Food is here."

  "We just skipped our plan to get clean after our trip on the subway." I stretch my arm out and wave it across my chest. "Just spreading funk all over their place."

  Nicole smiles and says, "You're right." She sniffs her shirt. "Either the liquor is distorting my senses or it wore off already."

  Laila places the bags on the counter. "At least wash your hands." She pulls out the food, examining each container before laying it open on the counter. "Then let’s dig in."