Loose Ends (15 page)

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Authors: Electa Rome Parks

BOOK: Loose Ends
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“Come on, you know Mia likes that shit too. They all do.”
 
 
“Brice, I know you didn’t call me to talk about your sex life or mine.”
 
 
“No, you’re right. I didn’t. I called to check out your lunch plans.”
 
 
I glanced down at my watch. It was lunchtime. Damn, where did the morning go? “Nothing in particular. I’ll probably grab a tuna sandwich over at Gorin’s.”
 
 
“You can do better than that. Meet me at the Shark Bar in fifteen. It’s on me. I need a break.”
 
 
“Okay, if you insist; I never pass up a free meal. See you in fifteen.”
 
 
Brice
 
 
After I arrived a few minutes later at the Shark Bar and was seated at a table over by the window, Christian was still nowhere in sight, and his place of employment was only a couple of blocks up the street. I sat, checked out the gorgeous black women in the place, Georgia peaches, and drank the cup of strong, black coffee I had ordered.
 
 
Back when Mia and I were together, she had gotten me into the habit of drinking coffee. Mia would drink cups and cups of black coffee when she was cramming for her exams at State University back in North Carolina. She’d be all tense and stressed. In between her breaks, we’d make love. Sometimes she wouldn’t want to, but by the time we were finished, Mia would be all into it, brown legs wrapped tight around my waist, and back arching to receive all of me.
 
 
That’s the funny thing about sistas: Give them some good lovin’, I mean really good, and they’ll always come back to you. I’m telling you, set ’em free and they’ll come back to you. I know women have those booty-call lists. You know, a ranking of guys who can throw down in the bedroom. Hell, yeah, women are as scandalous as men; they just do their shit on the down-low.
 
 
When we were finished, Mia would put on a robe and go back to studying until the wee morning hours. There’d be cups and cups of unfinished coffee sitting around. After Mia left me, I kept the coffee habit. Whenever I drank rich, strong, black coffee, I’d think of Mia and her legs wrapped around my waist, eyes closed, head thrown back in desire.
 
 
When I glanced at the front door again, I saw Christian strolling my way. He was dressed in his company’s uniform of choice. Dark suit, starched white dress shirt and a conservative pin-striped tie. Christian looked every bit the corporate man. He reminded me of those guys from Will Smith’s
Men in Black
movie. As women glanced his way and tried to make eye contact, he strode confidently over my way. Didn’t even give ’em a glance.
 
 
“Man, I’m sorry I’m a little late. As soon as we hung up, something came up in the parking garage.” He pulled out the wooden chair from the table.
 
 
“No problem, I haven’t been here too long. You got the situation under control?”
 
 
“Yeah, we’ve been having problems with homeless men getting into the parking area and begging for money and harassing the females.”
 
 
“I’m telling you, man, you could leave that shit all behind and come join me. It’d be like old times again,” I said with this
big shit-eating grin
just thinking about the good ol’ days.
 
 
“Yeah? Well, when would we work? Man, me and you together, we’d never get any work accomplished. Damn.”
 
 
Christian and I both laughed at that, because we were remembering how buck wild we used to be. Over the years, like all things, our lives had changed.
 
 
“Well, how are things going? Are you on schedule with your business plan?” Christian asked as he picked up the menu and glanced down at the lunch specials.
 
 
“Pretty much. I’ve been trying to do most of the physical work the last couple of weeks. Trying to get the carpet laid, buy office furniture, get the phones turned on, stuff like that. Man, I’m trying to do as much as possible myself. You know, save some money.”
 
 
“Cool. Let me know how I can help out.”
 
 
“I think one of my old marine buddies might come down from Virginia and come on board.”
 
 
“Who? Not crazy ass Williams? I know you’re not talking about him.”
 
 
“No, I don’t think you ever met Dixon. We hung out in Germany for a minute. He wasn’t as wild as your ass, but he’s good people. Hard worker.”
 
 
“Speaking of Germany, did I tell you who I ran into over there? It’s a small world after all.”
 
 
“No, who?”
 
 
“That punk ass, Malcolm.”
 
 
“Malcolm?”
 
 
“Man, you know you remember him.”
 
 
Malcolm was this hotshot marine who tried to get in Mia’s pants when we were married. Long story. But bottom line, he tried to fuck my woman, and my woman was going to let him—to get back at me. So I went ballistic on Mia’s ass. Put the fear of God in her. End of story.
 
 
“What happened?” Christian asked with total interest.
 
 
“What do you think? I fucked him up, fucked him up bad.”
 
 
“Good for you. That bastard deserved whatever he received.”
 
 
Silence followed as we remembered that time. Didn’t want to remember how ugly things got.
 
 
As the waiter approached our table with pen and pad in hand, Christian said, “Well, I’m still thinking about your proposition. I just haven’t had the opportunity to discuss it with Mia.”
 
 
“Okay, cool. The offer is still open, man. Always open for you. Personally, I don’t see what there is to discuss. Just tell her. Anyway, drop by and check out my place and I can put your ass to work.”
 
 
Christian and I both ordered sandwiches and iced tea and handed the menus back to our waiter.
 
 
“By the way, Kree and I enjoyed ourselves the other night. We must hang out again real soon and, man, I can’t wait to meet your daughter. My partner is a daddy. From her photos, she’s a beautiful child. Going to break a lot of hearts when she gets older.”
 
 
“Thanks, Lyric’s my heart, and yes, we’ve definitely got to hang out again. Yeah, the other night turned out better than I thought. We all survived with no major fireworks.”
 
 
“Mia is still beautiful. I’m sure you are enjoying her as your wife.”
 
 
Christian didn’t say anything, didn’t move; he just stared at me with those green eyes.
 
 
“What? What did I say?” I asked with obvious confusion on my face.
 
 
“Man, you got to cool it with the jokes about Mia.”
 
 
“Christian, chill, partner. I didn’t mean anything by that comment. I mean you two seem happy, very content.”
 
 
Christian fiddled with his spoon. “We are—very happy.”
 
 
“Good. I’m happy for you.”
 
 
“I can’t believe you’re comfortable with this.”
 
 
“This what, man?” I asked with raised eyebrows.
 
 
“This whole idea that I’m married to Mia, who used to be married to you, who used to beat—”
 
 
“Man, I’m cool with it. I admit, at first, I was mad as hell. You know. I felt like she still belonged to me. Felt like I had lost my soul mate. Just the thought of you and her made me see red. I think that was a normal reaction, but now I think we’ve gotten past all that. You know, let bygones be bygones and look toward the future.”
 
 
Christian nodded but didn’t say anything, just bit into his sandwich.
 
 
“Christian, believe me, I’m happy. Our situation is different, but I feel we’re adult enough to deal with it. It’s evident you and Mia complement each other. I’m cool with that. I was a fool, but, in the end, we both got who and what we wanted. I got a woman who will jump through hoops for me.”
 
 
He laughed at that. “I hope not. I hope Kree won’t jump through hoops. You didn’t feel awkward? Not even for a minute the other night?”
 
 
I shook my head, but Christian looked at me like I was talking bullshit and burst out laughing.
 
 
“Okay, okay, I admit it. It was strange for lack of a better word. In the beginning, it was odd being together again. But like I said before, we’re adults and we can handle this. We can make it work.”
 
 
“I hear ya. You just keep your eyes off my wife’s ass,” Christian added as he laughed again and took another bite of his sandwich.
 
 
“You saw that?”
 
 
“Yeah, you damn right.” Christian laughed. “That’s my woman. Keep your damn eyes off her ass!”
 
 
“Well, maybe I did take a peek. Man, I didn’t mean any harm, but you know Mia is fine. A brotha still got eyes.”
 
 
“Okay, okay, enough!” he screamed, faking indignation.
 
 
“Changing the subject, Moms told me to tell you that you had better bring your black ass back over to see her. You and Mia. Well, she didn’t say the ‘black ass’ part.”
 
 
“Sure thing. It was good seeing your moms again. It has been too long, and I’ve forgotten how Vivica can throw down in the kitchen. Makes me wanna slap somebody,” he said lost in thought. “Yeah, I really have missed that.”
 
 
“’Cause my brotha ain’t getting that at home, if my memory serves me right.”
 
 
“You remember right. Mia still can’t cook worth a damn. You wasted your money on that cooking instructor you hired back in North Carolina. I keep hoping and praying that one day a miracle will happen.”
 
 
We stopped to take more bites of our sandwiches and to get refills on our iced tea. Christian and I were relaxed, enjoying the food, conversation and atmosphere. I noticed the Georgia peaches had finally given up on trying to be seen. They had moved on to bait that was going to bite.
 
 
“Man, Kree can throw down in the kitchen and the bedroom. Two of my favorite places. She cooks like somebody’s grandmother. She doesn’t believe in eating takeout all the time or warming shit up from a can. That night we left your house, before we were out of the car and in our house, Kree was all over me. She helped me out of my clothes. Girl couldn’t get enough of me.”
 
 
“And your complaint? Don’t tell me my man can’t hang with baby girl. You getting old, man.”
 
 
“No, no, no . . . Don’t
even
go there. Make no mistake; I still have her hollerin’ out my name at least three times a week. You know I have to handle my business.”
 
 
Christian grinned. “Maybe she’s faking you out. Women do that shit all the time. Fake the big O.”
 
 
“Yeah, the BS women who can’t handle their business. If they are going to lie there like limp dolls, not move, and fake it, well . . . hell, I don’t care. I don’t give a damn! I’d rather they tell me they didn’t come than fake it and go fuck somebody else. It’s not going to hurt my feelings, just makes me work harder.”
 
 
“Preach now.”
 
 
I smiled. “I would know if Kree didn’t cream anyway. Man, you know. I know I do. I’ve had enough pussy to last a lifetime. All I know is this: If I don’t feel that grip, release, grip, release, that jumpity, bump, bump . . . the way I know it should feel. Then yeah, I’ll know she’s faking it and don’t care.”
 
 
“True, dat.”
 
 
“I guarantee—I repeat—I guarantee I can make any woman have an orgasm. My tongue on her clit, two fingers pressed against her G-SPOT, and boo-yow . . . Guaranteed, my man. Oh, yeah, I got her.”

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