Authors: Love Belvin
Love Delivered
Love Delivered
by Love Belvin
MKT Publishing
Copyright © 2014 by Love Belvin
All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidences are fictitious and a product of the author’s imagination.
Cover design by
Visual Luxe
Table of Contents
June 2007
~
Stenton
~
“
YOU DID WHAT
?” Chesney slowly removed his glasses and placed them behind him on his desk.
At first, he was motionless, but as the seconds passed and he had the time to process the insanity I just shared with him, he moved closer to me.
“Ches, man, you heard what the hell I said,” I returned.
“Mmmm-Unnn.” He shook his head emphatically. “You don’t get off on an assumption here. Please repeat that preposterous story you just spoke to me.”
I let out a long breath, debating if I was going to play this goddamned game with him. I knew what I was proposing was fucking ridiculous, but I wasn’t backing out; it was likely too late if my plan worked.
“I got someone pregnant…on purpose, but she doesn’t know it yet.”
“Pre—” he tried to echoed. “On purp—” he tried again. Chesney pinched his nose. “I can’t even repeat that tomfoolery. It is utterly asinine.” He inhaled deeply.
Then he started pacing in front of his credenza. That went on for far too long. I started to feel like a kid in the principal’s office. I knew what I did was fucked up, but I felt no remorse.
“Chesney, I came here to discuss this.” I tried to pull him back into the conversation.
His head popped up and he looked around the office, coyly. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was just rolodexing my law recollection to determine if what you’re saying you did is illegal and punishable by law!” His voice grew louder with each word, starting with
is
.
I shook my head.
Here comes the bullshit
. I was prepared. There was nothing he could say to me that would prove how selfish and fucked up an individual I am that I hadn’t already told myself. Edward Chesney was my spitfire attorney. I’d been with him since I decided to clean my shitty reputation. He was recommended by a mutual friend. Chesney did not take the job right away. The fucker had the audacity to interview me first. I was taken aback, thinking it should have gone in the opposite direction. Not with Chesney. He was in a class by himself. Now, I had to call on him to aid in my most recent selfish, risky and fucked up venture.
Zoey…
Chesney wiggled his index finger in the air while his opposite fist rested on his hip. “You know, I thought you were a low risk, easy-going, compliant client. When we scouted you, I knew you had a history of minor anger management issues, fist fights and a few terroristic threats, but since you’ve signed on my roster”—he continued to pace—“you’ve been easy peasy. You haven’t given me any trouble. But now this?”
Now this is news.
I was scouted?
“Look, Chesney, man, our agreement was for full disclosure. When you took me on you said your number one requirement was full disclosure. You said if I rape somebody, to call you first; if I shoot somebody, to call you first; if I’m being extorted, to call you first. So, now I’m hoping to be expecting a child…” I looked him square in the face. “I’m coming to you first!”
“Is this your thing…your quirk…your vice…your freaky side? Do you get off on secretly impregnating unassuming women? Because I mean…you’re the quiet, laid back,
hey…look at my cool tats and my ability to appear introspective
type of guy. Everyone has that one oddity they try to closet. Is this yours?”
He clapped his hands hard and piercingly, causing me to jump in my damn chair.
“How could I have missed it? I even turned down that twat, Alton Alston, after he begged for a spot on my roster. And you know why? It’s because I don’t take on high risk clients. He has too many baby mommas for my liking. But you…you!” He clapped his hands again. “You were a far more enticing prospect for some reason. But again, how could I have missed this proclivity?” He cupped his chin femininely. “Perhaps it was the fact that you garnered two major endorsement deals in less than a year that seduced me!” he answered himself.
“Ches.” I tossed my hand in the air. “I don’t have time for theories and bullshit. I need to put this plan in action.”
He didn’t immediately react. Things went quiet.
“Mmmmmhmmm,” he muttered while holding his chin with his left hand and hugging himself with his right. “And what did you plan to gain by doing this? How did you do this?”
There he goes again, yelling
. I sat back in my seat and gave him a sideways glance.
“I think it’s obvious that I’m trying to have a baby.” I tossed my hand in the air once more. “And I ain’t speaking a fucking detail of how I impregnated a woman. If you don’t know, you won’t find out from me today.”
“Details? No, Mr. Rogers,” he whispered angrily. “I mean no disrespect, but this is not a scouting report where your brain is limited to mastering. This detail is of utmost importance. I need to at least know what you did to impregnate her,” he fucking enunciated each syllable.
“I…” Frustrated, I drug my hands down my face. This was turning out to be more difficult than I thought. “I fucked with the condom. Put the biggest hole in it. Twice. Then I…uhhh…went without…a couple of times.”
Chesney wildly swung his fist in the air. “Son of a bitch!” he screamed into the air.
So fucking dramatic!
His face was red and his thin lips were covering his teeth, he was damn irritated.
Then he hopped in my face, but at a nonthreatening proximity. “What if your plan doesn’t go as you hoped? What if the child is born with defects? What if she dies giving birth? What if—
for crying out loud
—she isn’t pregnant? What if she was pregnant by Corey, the stocker, at her local Super-Save, but boning you?” He took a minute to catch his breath. “Have you thought about these things?”
I took a minute to consider those scenarios and then thought about Zoey. She’s smart and brilliant in so many ways, but naïve in many others. I tried not to laugh in Chesney’s burgundy face. He’d likely have a damn heart attack. So, I tried to level with him.
“Chesney, there are a lot of things about this: convoluted, and some may say, fucking—”
“Absurd,” he interrupted me. “Fucking absurd is what it is, my dear Stenton.” He swung his neck back and forth.
“Okay…absurd idea, but the last thing I was so sure about was deciding to declare my eligibility for the NBA. I want this baby, by this woman, right away before…” I caught myself.
Chesney, not skipping a beat, leaped in the damn air and crowded my personal space. “Before what? What are you not telling me?”
“Before she blossoms into a full woman and realizes my vices and how I’m the last person she wants to be tied to for the rest of her life.” I couldn’t believe I admitted that one out loud.
The crazy thing about selfishly plotting on people’s lives is that you can’t share it. It’s something you have to keep to yourself. Your insanities should be closeted, hidden from the world. But this crazy plan had legal detailing that I needed Chesney to assist with, so why the fuck not let it all hang?
I looked up to see Chesney’s eyes fluttering and his mouth hanging open while he squatted in front of my chair, looking like he was taking a shit in his $3,000 designer suit.
“How old is she?” he squeaked out painfully.
I took a deep breath, prepared to tell it all, and muttered, “Twenty-one.”
He pulled his hands together vertically and mouthed, “Thank you, God.” Then he combed his hair with his hand as he looked back at his desk. Chesney grabbed a pencil and legal pad and sat in the chair next to me.
“Before we get started, I need to know everyone you’ve shared this with. Every soul, Stenton,” he demanded.
I found my face wrinkled as I answered, “No one. You know I don’t discuss personal shit with anybody.”
“Okay, let’s hear it. Let’s hear this brilliant plan.” He forced a tight smile.
I took another deep breath and let it out, relieved that I got through my first round of chastisement with Chesney. I prepared myself for round two as I rolled out my instructions for the next phase to him.
Before I left his office, he damn near had that stroke after all.
~~~~~~~~~~
Now
July 2014
~
Zoey
~
BETRAYAL. That word not only flashes in my mind repeatedly, but it also surges my veins to the point of physiological pain. How could he betray my innocence? How could he take advantage of my eagerness to connect with him back then?
For seven years, I’ve carried a fragment of guilt with me. Every day I’ve awakened, each decision I’ve processed and every avenue I’ve pursued has been done with the weight of my guilt—
his deception
. My pregnancy, motherhood—
Stenton’s malicious act
—has changed the trajectory of my life; put me on an entirely different path. To someone with limited view, it would appear my life has played out well with a healthy child, my Ivy League degrees, Stenton’s wealth, and his commitment to our child, but to me—the young adolescent whose growth was stunted and heart was stolen at the tender age of 21—my dreams were snatched and a path set
for
me. This revelation burns me.
Who does he think he is, playing God with my life? What sick, perverted diabolism.
I was a twenty-one-year-old kid!
Stenton not only committed larceny with my tender heart, he did it with my youth as well. My god, when I think of the old zealous, optimistic and strong Zoey, my heart shatters at the memory in her wake. She’s...gone.
Who am I? Yeah, I’ve been fortunate with the bakeries and opportunities to expand my vision for business, but who am I? What fuels me? Outside of work, where is my passion? Who are my friends? Even that aspect has been affected by his selfish decision. No, Angela would have not approved of my relationship with Stenton, but it would not have been discovered had I not gotten pregnant.
Had he not taken advantage of me.
Who knows, perhaps our relationship would have fizzled and Stenton moved on to someone else. I could have found someone who appreciates Zoey. Instead, I got caught up, in love with a man who took me off my carefully planned path, leaving me to wonder: Who is Zoey?
I’ve cried and stirred all night, cogitating this quagmire of entrapment from every angle. My pillow is stained from gallons of tears during this rumination. My eyes burn, my throat feels like a ball of spikes from muffled cries, and my head throbs from being rummaged through for answers.
Was this worth it, Stenton?
What was his rationale? I’ve known this man for almost ten years and would have never thought he was capable of something so deplorable…so fiendish. There are two lives involved here: mine and my son’s. How different would my and Jordan’s lives been had Stenton not done this to me?
When I asked those questions after his vomiting session, I got no answers. Stenton seemed to not have been able to find his words. His eyes were brimmed with tears and shoulders hung low. All he could utter was “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”
How generic.
My last words to him were advice to keep his distance from my family and me. I can’t believe this has happened to me!
What did I do to deserve this?
There’s a knock at the door. I glance at the clock. It’s 4:46 in the morning.
“
Co
—” I clear my throat. “Come in.”
Please, god, don’t let this be Stenton.
I may throw a lamp at him.
The door slowly pushes open and Jordan’s little head cranes in. Weight lifts from my chest at the sight of his little marbled eyes. I notice his zombie-like approach when he pushes the door completely open as if someone’s behind him. That’s when I catch a long corded arm covered in ink pull the door closed, leaving just an inch ajar.
Stenton isn’t coming in. Good!
I lift from the bed just partially, excited at the swelling of my heart, my life. My joy: Jordan. His tall legs drag towards the bed and my outstretched arms engulf him a bit too zealously. The odor from his haphazard morning brush doesn’t eclipse my need to pull all the positive energy I can from his being. In this moment, he’s a reprieve from the grief I’ve been turning over in my head and heart all night without a moment of sleep. This little body in my arms tugs at my guilt for being angry over his conception. I don’t know what purpose I’d have if I woke up and didn’t have him to care for, to push my dreams for.
“Hey, baby,” my vocals are shaky yet determined.
My
Jordan.
“You leaving, Mommy? You sure you wanna go? You can always stay with me.”
I don’t know why I just said that. That was discord. Yet and still, I don’t want the separation. I need my one sheer piece of joy with me. Juvenile, but my feelings are incredibly strong in this moment.
“No thank you,” Jordan mumbles. “Daddy’s taking me dirt bike riding in the desert!” That’s delivered more cheerily, though I don’t relish the idea.
For one, it is risky for a six year old. Two, it was one of my most memorable excursions from my first vacation with Stenton. Either way, there are more pending issues between Stenton and me that take priority over debating this activity for Jordan.