Love Delivered (12 page)

I scoffed, “Tell me about it.” Then she smiled, broadly. “So, what’s going on with you? What have you been up to?” Karen stopped keeping me in the loop about Angela. It became too weird for her and was too painful for me to sit on the sidelines.

“I’m in the middle of culinary school. It’s not Rutgers…or Princeton, but it’s a restart button.” She shrugged.

“That’s great, Ang! You’ve always been a great baker. Is that what you want to pursue?”

“I don’t know. I’m learning so much about the industry, keeping my options open. For the most part, I’m praying for quick employment after I’m done. Working two jobs ain’t cool.” She chuckled.

“I hear ya. This mommy-hood thing ain’t for the faint of heart, is it. I’m glad you have Timmy. At least you have a husband.” I didn’t mean for that to slip out as melancholy as it had.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Can I offer you something to drink…dinner?” Already I was prepared to resume our friendship.

“Nah. I can’t stay for long. I just wanted to finally bite the bullet and hopefully get my cousin back. I’m glad this went well. I know how big your ass is on forgiveness; you better had taken me back.”

“Well, I’m glad you did, and I do.” I stood. “Let me formally introduce you to JR before you go…well, he’s in the middle of a nap, but at least you can look in on him.” I angled my head, struck with a thought. “I really want him to know Brooklyn. She’s adorable, Ang. I’ve loved her from first sight.”

Angela’s chest expanded. “Thanks, Zo.’ She bit her lip. “Now that we’re cool, I can admit to kissing Jordan a few times at church when Ruth or Aunt Sar had him and you weren’t around. He’s a sweet baby.”

“You know I’m not a crier,”
…outside of Stenton Rogers
. “…but if I were, I’d need a Kleenex right now.”

We both laughed as I led her out of the dining room. I took her to the other side of the apartment, giving her a tour on the way. Jordan indeed was lost in sleep, but she was able to finally kiss him in my presence, swelling my heart. Angela didn’t stay long. I felt a pang of sadness seeing her out. Overall, I was grateful for our makeup. It was totally unexpected and much needed.

I went back into the dining room to finish work. Just minutes into it, my phone rings.

“Hello.”

“Mascot, go to TheYBF.com and click on the latest post on Stenton and Erika.”

“Ty, I told you I have no interest in stalking Stenton and his girlfriend. I have better things to do with my time, like stud—”

“Damn it, Mascot! Just do what I asked!”

Tynisha had never taken that tone with me. I had a split second to make the decision to check her or roll with it.

With narrowed brows, I shrieked, “Okay.”

“Thanks and goodbye!” she disconnected the call.

Sure enough Stenton and his girlfriend made headlines again. But the caption didn’t read bliss.

Erika Erceg Gets BUSTED!

Stenton Rogers Has the Biggest Johnson!

What the…

I clicked on the article and read a brief synopsis of their recent scandal. Apparently there was a recording of an argument amongst Erika, her mom and sister about Erika’s philandering ways. I clicked on the link and heard just a smidge of grain, but could clearly make out the conversation.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Erika? Why can’t you leave him alone?”

“What I do with my life is none of your business. Did I judge when you were sleeping with Lil Wayne knowing he had three kids on the way at the same damn time?”

“Erika, Emily, calm down. I’m so tired of your shit. She’s right, Erika. You have a good thing going with Stenton Rogers of all people. Why would you want to go backwards with Shirez? He doesn’t have half the prestige as Stent!”
That voice I could discern belonged to Ellis.

“You mean money, Ellis?”
Erika returned.

“No! You know what I mean. He’s a good man. Look at how much you’ve gained since going public with him.”

“Aaaaand,”
the original voice, I could assume was Emily’s, chimed in,
“Shirez has humiliated you, flaunting that singer, Ciara, in your face all year long. What does he have that has you acting as though you can’t get enough, Erika? You said it yourself, Stenton has the biggest cock you’ve ever seen and can fuck like a champ. We all know he has more money than Shirez will ever have! If Ellis doesn’t have the balls to say it, I will!”

“You guys are ganging up on me!”
That must have been Erika’s deep cry. I heard deep sobs.

“Come here, honey. We don’t mean to be harsh.”

And then,
“This is all so fucked up! I love Stenton. I really do!”

Then the recording ended.

Holy mother of Joseph!

What a messy reveal. My first thought was to call Stenton. I mean, it would have been the supportive thing to do, right? But that would have been awkward on my part. I didn’t want to be that type of friend to him. Yet, I couldn’t deny wanting to give that Erika a piece of my mind for embarrassing Stenton like this…and publicly. What was she thinking?

Why should I care?

Because I still loved Stenton, that’s why.

Now

August 2014

~
Stenton
~

“Does any of this sound attractive to you, StentRo?”

“Yeah, man. I’ve gone over it myself and with Chesney. The blueprint looks good, the proposal is intriguing and the plan is solid. Have I not been here for the past hour discussing the specs of this, sir?” I gibe.

“Sir? Oh, word?” He smiles his fucking pretty boy ass smile when he does some shit with his tongue and back teeth. “This coming from the man who’s about to retire?”

I chuckle. “Yup. Retirement is in my very near future and I can’t fucking wait—which is why I’ve been spending more time with your suave ass, by the way.”

“And this is why I’m just trying to be clear on the terms.”

“Bruh, we’ve gone down this same road with
Cobalt
. I don’t see much variation,” I argue.

He snorts while sitting up to grab his tumbler of brandy from the center coffee table, then he smooths his tie as he sits back to sip his drink. I’ll give it to him: this dude drips elegance. Many of us remember him from his “urban” days when he rocked Timbo’s and saggy jeans.

“That’s where you’re wrong,
sir
,” he returns my taunt. “This spot is on the water, increasing its risk and value. I don’t have many in on this deal because, shit,
ADJ Enterprise
can carry this alone. I want this to be a long lasting, carefully laid venture. I need your confidence in this, Stent.”

“I appreciate you for this, man. I swear, I may be out of it, but I’ve gone over the docs several times, alone and with Chesney, and I’m good with it all. He’ll be transferring the funds over next week. Just don’t ask me to sign nothing with Moreau’s bitch-ass name on it and we’re good.”

He grimaces. “Never that. I told you I could arrange for an unsecure sit down.”

We both chuckle at that one. “Yeah, and I can see him suing the shit outta my black ass. Then I’ll be calling on you to help me stack my paper for real.”

There’s a knock at the open door. “Mr. Jacobs,” A blonde with smart looking glasses in a skirt suit cranes her neck in the doorway. “Your assistant asked that I make you aware of a new 1:15 appointment that’s on their way.”

“New appointment? What part of the game is that?” Azmir asks, displeased.

“I’m sorry, sir. I just got the call.”

At the same time I pull up my wrist, I can see him pulling out his pocket watch. It’s just after 1 p.m.

“Shit,” he swears underneath his breath then turns to me expressing regret.

“It’s all good. I have a 1:30 just around the corner myself,” I offer. It reminded me that I didn’t know who my meeting was with either.

“Margaret, you can set whomever it is up in the next room. When I’m done with Mr. Rogers I’ll be in there.”

“Yes, sir,” Margaret agrees before making an about face.

“Yo, man, I wanted to chop it up with you a minute about your disposition as of late. What the hell is up with you? When I saw you against the Lakers, you weren’t yourself then either.”

I exhale. A.D. has always been good people…a level headed dude. We’ve confided in each other a few times over the years, although we don’t kick it every day. He’s been a great resource over the past ten years since I’ve started wising up and investing more prudently. In a specific pocket of the African American industry, Azmir Jacobs is the man to consult when you want to diversify your financial portfolio. He’s pulled me in on a few of his deals and even recommended others he didn’t have his hands in. He’s always been a trustworthy and reputedly respectful dude.

Ironically, I’ve been told over the past few months that my disposition has been off. I also realize I’ve been so fucking bottled since the shit went down with Zoey last month at her parents’ home in South Carolina.

I thought there was a wedge between us before, Zoey has put up all guards since. I’ve not seen her since the night she realized my seven-year-old transgression. The pain in her eyes made me nauseous. I had been wanting to tell her since the top of the year, the escalating guilt gripping at the neck. That and the fact that I’ve been ready to be with her. To finally make us official. It took Zoey some time to move on and pursue life without the expectation of me being her partner, all because I didn’t want to stifle her.

Shit. What a plan that was. She’s been doing far more than flourishing. Zoey resumed her undergraduate career, started a small business while in graduate school and finished without flinching. Her cupcake business has expanded by leaps and bounds. She’s been a superb mother, pushing JR to learning levels above his grade, and engaging him in every American sport, even has exposed him to art. She’s been fucking Superwoman, one with a brilliant mind and sexy ass frame.

Zoey has more than bounced back over the past seven years since becoming pregnant. She’s soared. And without me. I never planned to be so distant from her over these years. That was the point of Jordan. I wanted in on her anticipated success. I just didn’t want to be the cause of it derailing because of her prematurely choosing me, which included my demanding career and celebrity. Outside of having my incredible kid that I wouldn’t change for all of my fortune, I failed, epically.

“Is it your personal life? Have you been dating? How’s Jordan?” Azmir broke my rumination with his string of questions.

Everyone knows Jordan. I’ve gradually exposed him to my world over the years. It hasn’t been excessive because his mother stays under the radar, even with her wealthy and sometimes famous clientele. However, my son is with me so often, it’s been impossible for the world not to know him.

I pinch my brows. “Something like that. I haven’t been dating. Even when I was dating, since JR has been born, I haven’t been…
involved
with anyone.”

Immediately, I recognize the revelation that forms in his mind. It’s all in Azmir’s eyes.

He cocks his head to the side. “It’s his mother?”

I don’t answer—or should I say, I don’t confirm his spot on assessment. I’ve never been comfortable discussing my affairs with Zoey, likely because of the twisted shit I did to her years ago in the Caymans.

“Do it,” he utters vehemently.  

What?

With a peaked brow and dubious glare, I ask, “Do what?”

“You know what the hell I mean. Marry Elizabeth.” Then my forehead wrinkles and I feel my shoulders broaden. “Don’t flex, G. I know everybody connected to my money the way you are. Did you forget we have the same attorney? Chesney asked me about a small investment for her bakeries when she kicked it off.”

“And?” I’ve never heard this before.

That’s what the fuck I get for paying Chesney’s firm to represent Zoey on the “L”. She thinks Chesney’s being generous with his pro bono. Hell fucking no. I’m paying him for each minute he signs or reviews a document on her behalf, because, of course, he didn’t defer her to a subordinate in his practice. No. That would be ‘
too impersonal seeing they’ve developed a relationship over the years
’ is how he phrased it. Relationship my ass. She got the biggest shark in the fucking pond…at my expense. 

“And I turned her down—difficult decision considering her knowledge, balls and ambition, but I don’t involve my money where emotions take residence. In other words, Chesney asking me to invest in a business of a trusted friend’s ex when said trusted friend is a damn millionaire. I smelled drama.”

He sat back, taking another sip of his drink.

“Drama,” I scoff. “But you say marry her in the previous breath. No disrespect, my dude, but I only prefer business guidance from A.D. Jacobs, the mogul.”

“Shit. Don’t get it twisted, I can write
four
books on the drama of building a solid relationship with the woman you could swear was born to be yours, but ran at every turn.
I kinda have
.” There was a tentative pause. “Look, Stent, before we became friends I’d heard of your philandering and reckless ways. You’ve come a long way since those days. But trust when I say when you’re nearing forty years old, life becomes clearer and loneliness reaches a new plateau. Being a father has made you a new being, kid. You’ve been wearing it well. Still, at this age you need companionship. And if not being with his mother has been fucking with your head this long, you need to take the plunge and marry her.”

Azmir has this impermeable and calm way to his articulation and presentation. He speaks matters of the heart while lounging in a seven thousand dollar designer suit.

Smooth ass fucker
.

“It ain’t that simple, Divine. I’ve put that girl at such fucking risk, doing the reckless shit you referenced earlier just to be in her world. Perpetrator shit. Neurotic shit. Just stupid shit. Shit that has come to light and now I may have lost the opportunity with her,” I mumble while staring off into the distance, tormented by the memories and realizations.

“Indeed.” Azmir chuckles. The dude rarely laughs. His smooth ass chuckles. “StentRo, you know how convoluted my lifestyle used to be…I’ve left it all behind; however, what you don’t know is
she
didn’t know. She learned about it after I selfishly snatched her ass off the market and purposely kept it from her.”

I feel my lips part in shock. This is some shit. Divine was the fucking king of L.A. on the low. Not everyone knew, but many suspected he had deep underworld dominion, too. I couldn’t tell for sure and never dared to inquire. His rationale is now making sense to me.

“If she’s worth you having, you’ll be worth forgiving. Fuck that. Go get her, duke,” he speaks adamantly with hard eyes that bore into mine.

There’s another knock at the door. I watch as Azmir’s eyes trail up to the guest behind me. This time his mouth drops. I turn to find a very pregnant and glowing woman.

“Baby,” he breathes out, almost whining the endearment. “What are you doing here?” He damn near leaps from his seat and rushes over to her.

“My husband is here!” she gives him a
duh
expression.

I’ve never formally met Azmir’s wife. I’d heard about the quick engagement, but she keeps a low profile for the most part.

Azmir pulls her into his arms. He’s a pretty tall dude, just a few inches shorter than me, and with her protruding belly I’m afraid he’s going to hurt her from the pressure. That’s until I see her hands grab him at the back, from under his arms and pull him into her. It reminds me of when Zoey was pregnant and how many days I yearned to feel her belly, just to share intimacy with her and liberally feel my son move in the womb. To my self-imposed misfortune, I can count on my hands how many times I did that. I remember when we made love when she was eight months pregnant and I couldn’t keep my hands off her. There was something embellished about her femininity. For weeks after, I beat my wood trying to recapture the ecstasy I experienced with her for those few short hours.

When tongues come out and lashing, I stand and clear my throat. Azmir keeps in his trance, but his wife glances at me then sheepishly bats her eyes just before withdrawing.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jacobs.” She swipes her mouth. “You were in the middle of a meeting,” she murmurs, avoiding my eyes. “And of course, it’s with Stenton Rogers.” She buries her face in his chest, clearly overcome with embarrassment. It’s cute.

“No. I’m sorry. Now I’m feeling like the intruder,” I joke.

Azmir never looks my way. He assesses his wife with a scowled expression.

“You’re not supposed to be traveling. You’re due in—”

“November,” she interjects into his reproach. “These are the last two weeks I can travel, and I missed you.”

Azmir’s glower doesn’t falter. He doesn’t speak right away, just plays in her hair.

“When we get home, I’m revoking your charter requisition privileges. StentRo,” Azmir never looks up from his glowing wife. “…this is the illustrious Rayna Jacobs, aka Mrs. Azmir Jacobs. Mrs. J, meet Stenton Rogers, number two overall Draft Pick, four-time MVP Awardee, six-time Champion, and a business partner.”

Resting the side of her face on his chest, Rayna gushes as she takes my hand for a shake, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Stenton.”

I offer a soft smile and bow. “I would ask for a kiss, too, but I think they’ve all been given out to a certain mogul,” I tease.

That’s
when Azmir looks at me. “StentRo, if I didn’t know your current situation, I would be all over your ass.” He cracks a smile. “Get the hell out of here and handle what we’ve discussed.”

With a grin, I nod softly and start off towards the door. When I’m just over the threshold, I hear, “Yo, Rogers.”

I back up and look at Azmir who has his hand splayed over his wife’s ass, not having moved an inch. I hike a brow.

“I almost forgot. Maroon 5 is doing an intimate listening party in the Meatpacking District. I know you have your own pull, but I heard it’s exclusive and to capacity. I’ll be happy to give you my passes. You’re the only black man your age I know who’s into that shit.”

Rayna gasps. “Azmir, your mouth!”

He tosses her a pouty face that instantly melts her expression and has her giggling like a schoolgirl.