Knock, Knock
"Before you cuss me out, I can explain." I rolled my eyes and sighed, but continued to stand there, curious about what excuse she cooked up this time around.
"You've got five seconds," I stated firmly, as if I really meant it. She could have five years if she wanted to. The way she was leaning on the doorframe in a pair of tight blue jeans and a white vintage t-shirt that hugged her oh so nicely made her even more irresistible than usual, which is a scary thought.
"I left yesterday morning because I had a hair appointment and then all these walk-in customers kept on comin' and Tasha didn't show up so we were short on staff. . ." She took a moment to breathe. "It was just complete and utter chaos and by the time I got home it was one in the morning."
"Why didn't you call?" I asked. As pathetic as it may sound, I would've sprung up the moment her name flashed across my Caller I.D. screen.
"Because I was exhausted, Jay," she explained simply as she took advantage of the temporary distraction our conversation caused me by stepping inside of my foyer and slowly removing my hand from the door knob.
"I didn't need an hour long conversation," I said, trying to pretend I didn't notice the warmth of her palm against mine as she slowly shut and locked the door behind her with her free hand.
"But it would've turned into that," she smiled as she looked back at me.
"What's wrong with that?" I asked. I knew I was suppose to be angry, but the grin on her face caused one to form on mine as we made our way into my living room, our fingers hooked onto each other's while doing so.
"Nothing," she said, "As a matter of fact, I miss those conversations."
"Me too," I admitted softly. Those conversations are what made me fall in love with her. Sure she was gorgeous, but the things that we connected on and fought about are what made me realize that there's nobody else like her.
"Then let's have one," she perked up after a moment of silence. "Let's talk!"
"About?" I asked.
"Anything, baby," she answered enthusiastically, "Let's talk about life and politics and dreams and friends and. . ."
"Us?" My hopes were up when she offered me a smirk, but it quickly flattered.
"Let's work on that later," she said, "I want to just have fun today."
"Okay. . ." I mumbled with uncertainty. If fun meant sex with no meaning and waking up alone, I wasn't up for it.
"Let's go out." I heart leapt in shock and the way she laughed told me my face must've shown my surprise.
"Out where?" I asked with excitement. We hadn't gone out in what felt like, and probably was, years. With all the sex and drama going on between us, leaving my house together was a rare occasion.
"Anywhere," she answered vaguely. "We can go to the park or the movies or the mall. Hell, we can go to Mexico if you really wanted to."
"Really?" I asked, ready to pack my bags within the next twenty seconds, but she laughed.
"No, not really," she told me, consquencely popping my happy bubble, "But we could go. . . In the very near future."
"How soon is that?"
"I don't know, I have to check my schedule," she said, "But I'm free today, so we can just. . . chill."
"Chillin' sounds good," I smiled, "Let's go." I didn't even bother checking my appearance for I made a beeline for my Nike shoes and slipped them on without a second thought. I could hear Teresa giggle when I tripped over my feet trying to get my shoes on and hold the door open for her at the same time. I retaliated by sticking my foot out in the mist of her laughter and making her stumble a bit. She tried to look angry, but was laughing with her head tilted back and hands clapping. I chuckled to myself as she playfully shoved me as I guided her to my Lexus and unlocked the doors.
"So. . . are you hungry?" I looked over at her as I adjusted into my driver's seat and she clipped on her seat belt.
"I could eat," I replied nonchalantly.
"I should've known."
"So can you," I interjected, "And if you knew, why'd you ask?"
"Because. . . I thought for once in your greedy life, you could say you weren't hungry."
"Greedy?" I asked, as if I were offended, "Who was the one who downed about twenty chicken wings in sixty seconds at Johnathan's birthday party?" She smiled and rolled her eyes.
"First of all, it was more like sixty minutes-"
"Seconds," I interrupted.
"Second of all," she continued, "You're the one who had two racks of ribs and four cheeseburgers before having the audacity to ask me for some of my twenty wings."
"But I'm greedy, remember?" I asked as I drove down my driveway, "What's your excuse?"
"Shut up, fool," she giggled, "Those wings gave me these hips and I never heard you complain about them."
"This is true," I smiled, "I guess we better head to an all you can eat buffet. Them hips are looking a little slender." She slapped my arm and I laughed as she turned up the radio, blasting Olivia's "Best Friend". I almost laughed, but I decided to just bob my head to the beat instead. As I continued down the road, I glanced over at her every once in a while, catching her staring into oblivion as she tried to sing along with every song that came on the radio. I smiled to myself, realizing that this was the first time in what felt like years, and, once again, probably was, since we were alone and not all over each other.
And as gay as it may sound, I liked it this way.
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Three hours into chillin' and Justin and I were far from finished. We had walked all around LA and shopped at a few stores as his body guards trailed behind and in front of us as well as the paparazzi. The flashes of the cameras and the constant calling of Justin's names and questions about who I was irked my very last nerves when we first got noticed, but as Justin walked alongside me and cracked some jokes, they began to disappear.
The boy was glowing in the mist of all this chaos, a smile never leaving his face, and I was proud. Proud because I had put it there because I finally took a step away from my selfish self and began to give him what he rightfully deserved: my time. I knew that it mattered that I wasn't around much, but to hear him constantly reminding me of how much he has missed us leaves me feeling loved.
Shane hasn't done anything but make me feel like some type of burden whenever I break into his schedule with a two second 'hello, goodbye'.
"Yo, you definitely need to get those," Justin said, pointing at the Coach bag and sunglasses placed on a fancy display case near the window as we walked inside the quiet store, leaving the paparazzi parade behind us. Some smooth jazz music was playing and I sighed as the cool air from the vents hit my hot skin.
"Why do I need 'em?" I asked, "That bag is like a thousand and those sunglasses three, four hundred dollars." Justin rolled his eyes and smiled.
"You are so cheap," he complained as he walked over to the bag and glasses and started to inspect them.
"I'm not cheap," I argued as I scowled at the pricetag on a hat, "I'm just broke."
"Well, I'm not," he said, causing me to roll my eyes.
"Well, no shit, Sherlock," I sarcastically replied.
"See, that's why I'm no longer getting it for you," he said, walking away from where he was once examining the items. I shrugged my shoulders and continued to wonder aimlessly around the store.
"Fine by me," I told him, "I didn't want it anyway."
"Then I guess that means you're getting it." He rushed back over to the display.
"I don't want it."
"Hmm. . . black or white?" he asked me, holding up to two bags and ignoring my previous statement.
"I said-"
"White it is."
"Boy, I said-"
"Excuse me!" he called, beckoning a saleswoman from across the room.
"Justin Randall-"
"I know you don't wanna use middle names, Virginia."
"Don't call me Virginia."
"Don't call me Randall."
"You know what? You are such an - Hello!" I perked up the moment I took notice of the saleswoman standing in front of us. She smiled uncomfortably, like she didn't know whether to laugh or cry, before offering her hand to me.
"Hello, I'm Amber," she greeted.
"I'm Teresa." She nodded and turned to Justin, who shook her hand lightly and smiled politely.
"I'm Justin." As I said before, no shit, Sherlock. The Amber chick smiled and nodded before saying it was nice to meet him. More like his credit card. She was grinning when he started ordering random things that I didn't even want and was even happier when he told her to charge it. Justin was glowing himself, as if the things were for him, and I found it as adorable as it was annoying.
"I really hate it when you do this," I told him softly as I poked his arm like a whiny child.
"You love it," he argued simply, "Look, when was the last time I bought you something?"
"July, for my birthday."
"See, that was so long ago."
"Dude, it's August." He pretended to think for a moment before he laughed.
"Really?" I rolled my eyes, but smiled anyway.
"You know I'm giving all this to your mama, right?"
"And you know she's gonna give it right back, right?" I sighed.
"Yeah, I know." I hooked my arm in his and leaned on his shoulder as we waited for Amber to come back with a receipt and his stuff. "How is she by the way?"
"Good," he replied, "You just missed her right before we left. I sent her to the spa place on Grant with Rachel."
"That's good," I said before my ringtone ripped through the peaceful room. Three other customers roaming the store looked as Sean Paul's 'Temperature' played from my purse and I offered them apologetic looks. Justin only snickered as I searched and finally found my phone and flipped it open.
"Where are you?" Before I could say 'hello', Shane's abrasive tone rang in my ear and I rolled my eyes.
"Out. Why?" I could envision him rubbing his temples because of my vague response, but I couldn't care less.
"Are you coming home?"
"Maybe," I said, "Why?"
"Well, I wanted to have dinner with you tonight, but seeing that it's almost seven and you obviously don't want to come home. . ." My interest peaked at that moment. Shane wanted to have dinner. . . with me. That had been a dream of mine for a while, seeing that dinner consisted of me cooking a small meal for myself and feeding the fish in our living room.
"Now?" I asked.
"No, in October," he stated sarcastically, "Of course now."
"Why didn't you ask me earlier?"
"Because you didn't mention you were doing anything today."
You never asked. . . "Well, I'm out with a friend now, so I don't know."
"What friend?"
"The friend that I'm with." Shane sighed and I sighed inwardly.
"Fair enough," he mumbled, "But are you interested or not?" I looked over at Justin who was aimlessly playing with a charm on my keychain before letting out a heavy sigh.
"I'm interested," I said, "I'll be home in a little bit."
"Okay, babe," he said to me, "See ya later." He hung up and I slammed my phone shut, still debating whether or not I should go.
"So. . ." Justin started slowly, "I guess-"
"I'm sorry," I blurted out. Justin looked down at his feet and nodded his head.
"You always are." Before I could respond, Amber came out with the bags and Justin unhooked our arms and retrieved the bags from her. We both said goodbye, freigning happiness, as Justin's body guards reappeared and guided us through the chaos outside and to Justin's car. Once we were safely tucked away in the vehicle, they went into their own SUV and followed us. The drive back to Justin's house was silent, aside from the music playing on the radio, but even that didn't seem to distract me from the sound of his breathing or the way his eyes stayed on the road and the road alone.
I felt extremely stupid. Here I was, having a really good time with a really good guy and I had to ruin it because Shane snapped his fingers and beckoned me. I wanted to apologize as he parked the car in his lot, but he hopped out of the car before I got the chance. I hurried after him before his walk was a bit quicker than normal and I was almost certain he was going to walk through his front doors and slam them shut in my face.
"Justin!" I called as he took the stairs two at a time and fumbled with his keys the way he always does when he's angry or sad or both.
"What?" he mumbled gruffly before sticking the key into the lock and turning it. I jogged up the steps and grabbed his wrist before he could step inside.
"Justin, please don't be mad."
"Mad?" he asked rhetorically, "Why would I be mad?"
"Because. . . Shane. . ." I said vaguely, confused.
"Oh, you mean mad because you, once again, are dropping me for a guy who calls once every blue moon?"
"Jay. . . please," I sighed.
"No, don't," he said, "I. . . I don't get it. You said you wanted to chill. Do something different, and yet, here we are, doing the same damn thing we always do."
"I'm sor-"
"No, you're not," he interrupted with a roll of his eyes, "Just go have fun with your boyfriend." He climbed up the remaining stairs and slammed the door shut behind him, sending a chilling echo throughout his estate. I stood on the steps and stared at the mahogany doors as they stared back at me. I wanted to knock and apologize again, but I wanted to just leave and have dinner with Shane. My initial feelings pulled me to Justin, but my pride led me to Shane.
Before I knew it, I was sitting across Shane at an The Italian Bistro. It was a small cafe place outside of his firm that was romantic, but comfortable. The food was good, well, at least the small portion I ate was. I didn't have much of an appetite because Justin was on my mind every two seconds and Shane was so quiet I had no type of distraction.
"Would like to order dessert?" I looked up at the waiter standing at our table, smiling politely my way. I sat up straight and sighed.
"Oh, thanks, but-"
"She'll have a chocolate mousse and I'll have the strawberry tart, please." I glared looked at Shane as the waiter nodded in understanding before walking away.
"I didn't want dessert."
"Well, you're having it."
"Shane-"
"Look, I didn't ask you to eat dinner with me for you to just poke at chicken and stare into space all night," he said, punctuating his sentence with a small smile.
"I'm sorry," I apologized, "I have a lot on my mind right now."
"Like what?" If I didn't know any better, I would've thought he actually cared.
"Nothing you'd be interested in," I said.
"Try me."
"Shane, are you okay?" He looked up at me before glancing around like I was speaking to someone else.
"I'm fine," he replied, "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine too," I lied, "I just don't know where all this came from."
"What?" he asked.
"This. . ." I mumbled, gesturing toward the table, "Dinner. . . Conversation. . ."
"Isn't that what a boyfriend's suppose to do?" he questioned.
"Well, yes, but-"
"Okay then, that's all there is to it."
"No," I argued, "There's a catch isn't there?"
"What?" he chuckled, "Catch?"
"You know, a trick. Some type of. . . twisted scheme." He laughed and shook his head.
"Why do you think that?"
"Because. . ." I smiled despite myself. "When was the last time we've done something remotely close to romantic?" He sighed and smiled weakly.
"Damn, I really can't remember. . ." He paused for a moment and fiddled with his napkin. "Are we really that bad?" I wanted to say 'yes', but the way he looked at me, so sad and confused, made me bite my tongue.
"Not. . . that bad. . ."
"But bad enough, huh?"
"We've just been busy."
"I've been busy," he corrected, "I'm fuckin' up. . ."
"No, Shane. . ." I don't why I was saying no. We both know he has fucked up, but he doesn't know I'm fucking up too.
"Look, we both know that's a lie," Shane said, "There's no need to defend me."
"It's not just you," I told him, "There's two people in this relationship."
"And one has been the only one trying."
"Shane-"
"I'm serious," he continued, "I know you have made your mistakes, but I'm still to blame. I pushed you to someone else and I quite honestly wouldn't hate you if you were still cheating." I swallowed and bit my bottom lip. Did I mention that I was a terrible person?
When Shane had first found out about Justin and kicked me out, I was sure he was done with me. But then he called two weeks later and made me promise to never cheat again. I did.
We all know that was a lie and a half.
I guess I've been setting myself up as victim to him. He didn't know my dirt, but I knew his. I guess that's why I could swallow my guilt and control the urge to tell him. He was as much as a cheater as I was. I at least stuck to one person while he, on the other hand, enjoyed the company of many. I know, I know. Two wrongs don't make a right, but, damn it, it's so much easier to get played when you're playing that person right back.
"Shane, I just want to enjoy this evening with you," I said, trying to focus on anything but our problems, "Let's just drop it, okay?"
He sighed. "Okay. . ."
"Oh, dessert!" I was too hype, but the tension was killing me. I never thought I'd be so happy to see a waiter before, but the man and my mousse is saving me from a future headache.
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"So what's on your agenda?" I looked up from my keyboard and met my mother's gaze before sighing and shrugging. I began to plug in random keys, trying to make up a beat I hadn't quite thought of before.
"Stop staring at me," I whined as I felt a hole being burned into my head by my mother's eyes.
"Sorry, but you're so gorgeous," she chuckled and I smirked, "You look just like me."
I playfully rolled my eyes. "Conceited much?"
"I'm conceited. I've got a reason. . ." I stopped playing on the keyboard and stared at my mother in horror.
"Never, ever, ever, ever sing that song again." She laughed heartily and I joined her despite myself.
"I just sung it to get a laugh out of you," she told me, "You've been so quiet tonight." She reached up to pet my small curls and relaxed underneath her touch.
"I'm not in the mood to talk." My mother gasped dramatically and put her free hand over her heart.
"Well, I never thought I'd see the day."
"Not funny," I grumbled.
"I'm sorry," she smiled, "I guess that joke didn't work."
"Do I really talk that much?" I asked.
"Yes," she answered honestly, "But I don't mind it. In fact, I want you to start talking now."
"There's nothing to talk about."
"We can talk about why you're not talking."
"Or we can leave it alone." I began to play a Brian McKnight song I learned last week before the keys stopped making music. "What the-"
"No talk, no power." My mother's hand was placed firmly over the power button on my keyboard and I was beyond annoyed with her.
"Fine, I have a piano." I went to stand, but she placed her hand on my shoulder and made me sit.
"Tell me. Now."
"It's Teresa."
"Okay. . ."
"Do I really need to say more?"
"Yes, a lot more," she told me, "What happened?"
"She ditched me, again."
"You woke up alone?"
"No. I was wide awake this time," I said, "She got a called from you-know-who and off she went to La La Land, leaving me alone."
"Oh. . ."
"Oh," I repeated.
"Well, did she call?"
"Why would she?" I asked, "Every time she wants to give me some bullshit apology, she comes knocking at my door. I'm the only one who calls and I'll be damned if I do."
"That's understandable," my mother said, "But Justin?"
"Yes?"
"The next time she knocks on your door, try not opening it."
"I have."
"Try harder," my mom encouraged, "Look, I know you love her, but you can't keep letting her do this."
"I thought it was okay because I loved her."
"It is. . ." she said, "But, baby, if she's ever gonna realize how much she cares for you, she has to lose you."
"What?"
"You know the saying 'you don't miss a good thing until it's gone'?" I nodded. "It's truer than true."
"Stopping myself from opening the door is so much easier said than done."
"But it's so much easier to let her go once than over and over and over again." That made perfect sense to me. My mom was a genius. . . but I was a fool. Around three in the morning, a knock on my door woke me from my slumber and I knew in every fiber of my being that it was her. My mother's words ran through my mind and right out of my ass because I swung that door open so quick that I almost got whiplash.
A kiss here and a touch there and I was gone. She was back in my bed and back in my heart all over again.
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