by J. Nichole
“Think you’ll go back home?” I’ve always been spontaneous, but moving to New York was the most random thing I’ve done. Ever. I didn’t think through a plan, hence me crashing on Chris’ couch for weeks. I want to make this art thing work, and New York seems the most plausible place for that to happen. But if it doesn’t, I don’t know what’s next.
“We’ll see what happens. What about you?” If it were up to our dad, Chris would already be home. Not sure how long he can avoid him.
“Not if it’s up to me.” Chris sits down on a couch and smooths the leather with his hand. “Are you only looking for a bed today?”
“Yeah that’s my first priority.”
Chris laughs and shakes his head. “So the chicks you have over will have no choice but to be in your bed.” He laughs harder but stops laughing when he realizes I’m not joining him.
“Whatever man. After sleeping on your couch for weeks. I would be happy to not see a couch for a while.” Chris nods his head. I walk away from him as a store attendant asks me if I need assistance.
“If I make a purchase today, could you have it delivered this evening?” The store attendant’s eyes widen.
“We have a few items in stock in the warehouse. If it’s something you like we could make a special arrangement to have it delivered this evening.” By special arrangement, I assume he means with a hefty cost, but at this point I don't even care.
“I need a bed. Show me what you have.” We walk over to the few beds they have in stock and only one fits my style. We complete the sale and I walk over to Chris and tell him how helpless he’s been. “We can leave now.”
He hops off the couch and says, “Good. Now let’s find something to get into.” Instead of taking a taxi back to the apartment, we walk until we find a restaurant to pop into.
Sitting across from each other, we get comfortable and I drill Chris about his plans with Laila. “I mean when are you going to marry her?” After Chris made the grand gesture of finding Laila a job at Millennial Magazine, and convincing her to move to New York instead of Jacksonville where she had a job offer, you’d think they’d be running down the aisle.
He wipes at his nose. “No rush. We’ll get there.” I’m sure he has something else in mind. He’s never been able to hide his tell of wiping at his nose. I just smirk and don’t badger him any further about their relationship. “Besides, I’m the youngest. You and David need to lead the way.”
We both laugh, knowing how hard it would be to get us both married off before him. “Nice try, bro, not happening anytime soon. At least not for me.” I look across the restaurant to a group of ladies sitting at a booth. “I like my freedom to roam.” I look back to Chris who is now looking at the group of ladies.
“One of us better get married before Mom starts nagging,” Chris groans. Our mother, fortunate to have three stubborn boys, has latched on to any female we’ve ever brought home. In recent years, I’ve had random girls come and go and my mom’s attention to the chicks was apprehensive. But I saw how she was with Laila. It was like she had already accepted her as a daughter, more concerned for her well-being and feelings than for Chris’.
“Yeah go ahead and take that one for the team. And while you’re at it give her a grand-kid and I’ll have years before she starts looking at me expecting me to settle down.”
After a couple of drinks and wings we decide to continue on our walk back to the apartment. Chris wanted to check in with the ladies before we made plans for the night, a gentle reminder that I wasn’t ready to settle down yet. I, on the other hand, was ready to hit a club or a bar, and hadn’t thought twice about Laila and Nicole. Maybe about Nicole, just about those curves, and maybe her wit. Not too many women can keep up with my sense of humor.
When we walk into Chris’ apartment we find the two of them laid out in the living room. “How was the food truck festival?” Chris asks Laila.
Laila rubs her stomach and says, “I think we tried just about everything out there.” She looks over at Nicole who is frozen on the floor. “Probably not the best idea to mix all that food.”
Nicole groans.
I sit down next to Nicole and say, “You’re determined to have the shits on your flight home, huh?” Nicole rolls her eyes at me. The pathetic look on her face made me feel bad for her. “Need some medicine?” Without moving her head, she looks at me with a pathetic smile. I stand up and offer to go to the corner store for medicine.
On my way to the door I hear Chris ask Laila, “Are you two going to be able to go out tonight or are you all in?”
“We’re waiting on Nicole’s boo to text her. She may have plans of her own.” I turn and look at Laila who has a wide grin on her face and I open the door and walk out of the apartment.
Unlike Tennessee, I can walk just about anywhere near the apartment. The corner store is just a few feet from the entrance. From the shelf, I grab a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and try to check my feelings. Something about Nicole having plans with a dude tonight makes me uncomfortable. I try to make myself believe it’s because I haven’t had the chance to have her for myself. But that’s never phased me before. If a girl was taken, I usually move on to the next without a problem, many times, the next being her homegirl.
Laila and Nicole are still in the same spot in the living room when I walk through the door. I hand Nicole the medicine then call for Chris. “We headed out tonight or what?” I ask when he peeps his head through the bedroom door. “These two look like they are all in for the night.”
Chris looks at Laila then shrugs his shoulders. “I’m down.” We agree we’ll head out later that night and I leave the trio to go get my bed set up in my apartment.
The sterile feeling of the apartment evades me. Earlier when Zya and Nicole joined me, the apartment didn't feel as empty and I hardly noticed the echoes caused from our movement in the open space.
Although I don't want to see a couch anytime soon, I will need to finish furnishing the place this week. But the walls, those will remain empty until I can return from Tennessee with my pieces.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, I visualize each wall of the apartment filled with the bountiful colors and soft strokes of my canvases. Now that I've found an apartment I need to find an art studio. A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts.
Through the peephole I see what appears to be a deliveryman. “Bryan,” he says through the door.
“That's me,” I say after opening the door. He presents the delivery slip and I show him where I want the bed set up. After they finish the setup they drop a few more bags and I look at them questioning the contents. “What's this?”
“Guess you made a friend of the manager. She wanted you to have sheets and a comforter and hopes you'll be back for your other furniture needs in the future.” The guy smirks after he delivers the message as if he had memorized it and was proud he hadn't messed up the words.
“I'll definitely be back.” Customer service is my soft spot. I'll probably furnish my entire apartment from her store now. As the deliverymen leave the apartment I consider a possible partnership with the furniture store. I could make affordable pieces for her to sell. I tuck that idea away and finish setting up the bed.
My phone dings, notifying me of a text message. I can hear the phone but can’t find it. The apartment is empty and doesn’t take long to look in the obvious places, but I can’t find my phone in my bedroom or in my kitchen. Whoever it is looking for me will hopefully call if they really need me, and then I’ll be able to find it.
I finish making up my bed when I hear a knock at my door. I look out of the peephole and see Nicole standing with her hand on her hip.
Pushing the door open she grins at me and says, “I was starting to think you already had company.” She looks past me through the door and asks, “Do you?”
Pulling her arm into the door I say, “I just finished making my bed.” I look behind me to the bedroom. “Now, I can invite a few chicks over.” We both laugh and she leans a
gainst the kitchen counter. “Still feeling that shady food from earlier or did the medicine help?”
“It helped. Thanks again.” She pats her stomach. “I think I’ll stick with decent food till I leave.” I cock my eyebrow at her and smirk. “Your brother was calling to tell you we were tagging along but you didn’t answer the phone, and because I couldn’t remember your apartment number to send him to tell you in person.” She points to her chest. “I was volunteered to come up here.”
“Maybe you can help me find my phone while you’re here.” She looks around the apartment without moving. “If you pull out your phone we can call it.”
She laughs and reaches into her back pocket to hand me her phone. After entering my number into her phone, I save it with Big Daddy stored as the name. I dial my number and hand it back to her while I listen for my phone to ring.
“Big Daddy,” she says as she follows behind me.
With my phone ringing in the background I say, “I knew that would sound orgasmic coming out of your mouth.” All day Nicole has been able to go toe to toe with me, even keeping a straight face when I kissed her cheek and convinced Zya that we were in a relationship. But her audible gasp just now proves that she’s embarrassed or I caught her off guard.
“I think it’s under the bed.” I turn to look at her and her eyes are set on my bed. “Your phone.” She points toward my bed.
Kneeling down, I rake my hand under the bed and my hand lands on my phone. With it raised in the air I say, “You’re right.” She hangs up her phone.
Looking around the room she says, “I'm going back downstairs to get dressed.” I close the gap between us and invade her personal space. Her breath catches when she turns back toward me. “Ugh.” She coughs to clear her throat. “See you in a bit?”
Reaching out to her waist I let my hand rest above her hip. “Actually, I need to raid Chris’ place for some necessities until I get this place set up.” With my eyebrows arched I say, “You're more than welcome to get dressed here. I'll grab towels for you too.”
“Actually, that may not be a bad idea. At least I won't have to wait long for the shower.” This time it was my turn to be caught off guard.
Chapter Eight
Nicole
My phone dings with a text message.
Laila: Did you just ditch me?
Laila: And you sent Bryan to tell me?
My laughter echoes through Bryan’s empty apartment. I don’t know if I want to cross that line with Bryan, considering it won’t be a love him and leave him situation. For as long as Laila and Chris are together, Bryan will be around.
And why all of a sudden is he interested in me? Initially, he was all for helping me find someone to dick me down before I left the city. Now, he seems like he wants to take that task on himself.
Nicole: Girl, I’m just going to get dressed up here so we can all get ready quicker.
I put my phone down because I’m sure Laila will fire off a slew of messages. But she’ll be okay. The front door opens and Bryan walks in carrying my luggage, towels and random clothes. “You’ll have to find a better way to move your things from downstairs.”
He hunches his shoulders and looks around the apartment before sitting everything on the floor in front of the door. “I only had a few bags when I moved here. I just need to work on getting the apartment set up.” He rubs the back of his neck. “It’s been a while since I started from scratch.” Another reminder of our age gap.
“Your girl was a little upset that you didn’t come back downstairs,” he says as he walks toward me with my luggage in his hand. “We should make this betrayal worthwhile.” I cock my head at him and raise my eyebrow. “Take a shower with me.”
Before I can respond my head is shaking no. “I need to figure out what I’m wearing. You can go ahead and I’ll hop in after you.”
He shrugs his shirt over his shoulders and says, “If that’s what you want.” The art covering his back causes me to watch him walk away. Instead of rummaging through my luggage I follow him to the bathroom where the door is conveniently open wide enough for me to see him standing in front of the mirror.
I knock lightly on the door and Bryan looks up and says, “You don’t have to knock. I invited you in.”
I open the door wider and ask, “What’s the art on your back?”
He turns away from me giving me an unfettered view of the full piece. Then he explains, “It’s an African collage.” As he describes each image encased in the shell of the continent, I locate the image on his back: an elephant, lion, shackled wrists, and a Marula Tree.
Before he finishes his description, my hand reaches out and traces each of the images. “It’s breath-taking. So elaborate.” He turns to face me and grabs my hand, placing it on the art covering his chest.
“Thank you.” He looks down at his chest and says, “For years I used my body as my creative outlet.” He laughs before saying, “My mom suggested I start on canvas before my whole body was covered.”
He drops my hand then scoots my shirt off my shoulder and asks, “What about you? Are you hiding any art?”
I laugh at the thought. I point to myself and say, “Me? Getting a tattoo? I had to draw the line with my rebellion. My pastor father would have had a fit if I came home with a tattoo. I’d never hear the end of it.” Just as if it had happened I can imagine my father fussing at me about my body being a sacred temple.
“Probably for the best. They are a bit addictive.” I’d heard this before from a few friends who started with one tattoo and a few later were still thinking about what they would get next.
I look at the shower then remember we are supposed to be getting ready for the club. “I’m slowing us down. I still haven’t found an outfit for tonight.”
He points to the door and says, “Yeah get out of here before you see all my art on display.” He looks down at his crotch and I realize the piece of art he is referring to is not one he crafted himself. I back out of the door with my gaze stuck on what could probably be His greatest masterpiece.
The shower starts once I’m safely out of the bathroom and I’m thankful he didn’t undress anytime sooner because I’m slowly losing my ability to stay away. My ability to ignore my pulsating sex and hard nipples is damn near impossible. Instead of giving in to my desires I return to my suitcase and find an outfit that would be sure to help me curve my sexual tensions, and help me find a man willing to break my back, no questions asked, before I leave the city tomorrow.
“You’re up next,” Bryan says. I look up from my suitcase. “I put towels in the bathroom for you.” He says this as his towel hangs low on his waist and beads of water are still dripping down his chest.
I grab my outfit and slide past him to the bathroom. Over the spray of water, I can hear music coming from the bedroom. I can’t make out the words but the beat sounds familiar.
I peek my head out of the bathroom before stepping out. Bryan is dancing across his room buttoning his shirt. When he turns away I step out behind him and sway along with him to the music. Finally I hear the words of the song, Cause I need somebody who will stand by me. Bryan belts out the words, “Sunny days, everybody loves them.”
I sing along with him and when he hears me, he turns around and wraps his arms around my waist and we sway to the song. When the words stop, he leans into me, connecting our lips. I don't pull away, I lean in, all the way in. I rub my hand across his chest where I know a tattoo rests beneath his shirt.
When the beat ends, we pull away, and I'm breathless. My eyes remain closed until I hear him ask, “Aren't you too young to be a New Edition fan?”
Leaning against his dresser I say, “We’re all New Edition fans now thanks to the BET movie.”
Bryan’s head tilts back and laughter bellows out. “Yeah that movie did revive my love for their music. When I was a kid I used to try to learn all their dance moves. Even had Chris and David do the dances with me.” Imagining the three of them in front of the television has me bal
led over in a fit of laughter.
I'm interrupted by Bryan’s ringing phone. He looks down at it and says, “That’s Chris, probably checking for us.” He answers and tells him we’ll be down shortly. Brushing against my skin, through my side cut outs, Bryan sings, “Candy girl,” before walking out of his room.
With my clutch in hand I follow closely behind him and say, “With that voice The Clark Brothers could have been my favorite boy group growing up.”
Bryan looks at me and shakes his head. “I assume you don't realize that was a group.” He looks at me knowingly as he presses the elevator call button. With my eyes squinted I shake my head. He wraps his arm around my waist leading me into the open elevator. “So much to teach you youngin’.”
“Remind me not to send your hot ass to send a message to a dude ever again.” Laila grips my shoulder, pulling me into the apartment and away from Bryan.
“I'm ready,” Chris yells from the bedroom.
Laila sits me on the couch and looks me square in the face. “What were y'all doing up there?” I look from her to Bryan standing in the kitchen. “Oh now you can't kiss and tell?” I feel my cheeks begin to burn when Bryan looks at me grinning. Laila acts as if her place isn't the size of a box and her voice isn't echoing throughout the apartment.
Through gritted teeth I say, “You're so embarrassing.” There aren't many details to give her. As quickly as the kiss happened it was over as if it never happened. Not that Bryan and I needed to discuss what transpired or how our friendly banter escalated to a passionate kiss, a kiss that made me instantly want to wrap my legs around his waist and ride him into the night. Or how he went from my hoe matchmaker to my match. Those were all details that didn't matter much because it wouldn't happen again. He’ll be back on his job at the club, with me pretending to be his sister, and him helping me find my next dude to fuck.
“Do you plan on going back there after the club?” Laila looks down at my clutch. “You didn't even bring your bags back. Just remember you have an early flight in the morning.” She stands up, walks toward her bedroom and shouts, “Thought you were ready like ten minutes ago.”