Authors: Love Belvin
“And do you want to bring that epic mistake up now?”
“
N
-no.” she sighed. I didn’t think she would. By the time I got through chewing her ass out about posting a picture of me damn near naked on social media, she had to cancel a shoot because her eyes were swollen from crying, begging me not to end this shit. She’d overstepped one of the two parameters I set for this relationship: No cameras in our affairs and no access to my family. “I’m just trying to make a point that I want to be a part of his life, too, baby.”
“Da-Da…Da-Da!” Jordan jumped to his feet in front of me.
“Yeah?”
“Doo-doo, Da-Da. Doo-doo,” he grabbed his little ass.
“Oh, shit! Here we go!” Alton leaped to his feet.
“Shit,” I breathed out.
“What’s wrong?” Erika asked, alarmed.
“Nothing. Gotta go,” I shot out briskly as I jumped to stand.
“But wait, Stent. I need to talk to you about—” was all I heard before I disconnected the call.
My little soldier was ready to take his first shit, something every man makes an event out of. Jordan was in the lead, running to the bathroom. Alton was on his heels and I was right behind him. When Jordan pushed out his first pebble that smelled worse than my own it seemed, Alton and I danced in the bathroom like damn kids, excited at this milestone we witnessed with Jordan. I was damn proud.
Then something hit me. I pulled out my phone and tapped until I heard the phone ring.
“Hello?”
Her goddamn voice caused vibration in my chest and a damn tingle in my groin. For a few seconds, I was jarred.
“Hello?”
“Hey. Zoey…” I sounded like a complete dullard. Why the hell was my heart skipping beats?
“Is that JR I hear in the background?” I couldn’t miss the amusement in her tone.
I turned to see Jordan bopping his head arrhythmicly while on the stool to Alton’s beat-boxing.
“
Ye
-yeah. Uhhh…”
Get your shit together, Stent!
“I called to tell you he went potty.”
“WHAT?” she trilled piercingly into the phone. “My baby went potty?” That came out more like a cry. “Oh, my god! Oh, my god! Stenton, you did it!”
She was thrilled about it…like me. And suddenly warmth spread over my limbs as a revelation hit me. I was reminded of the connection to her once again. It reminded me of my original plan of being anchored into her world. Jordan was our terminal. He was our common denominator. The bullshit I was going through with Erika wasn’t for naught. I had a purpose. My mission was still valid. I could live to fight another day.
Something in my shoulders loosened. My chest expanded. My posture changed. The fucking sun came out again. And I smiled, broad and unbridled.
“Yeah…we did it. You started it.”
Zoey continued screaming her hoots into the phone. “And you made progress. Now we have to keep it up! Can I speak to him?”
“Yeah,” I laughed in a low tone. “Hang on. I’ll hand him the phone.” I lowered the phone to Jordan. “Here. It’s Mommy.”
“Mommy?” he repeated in his usual fashion. Zoey must have spoken, and Jordan pronounced more purposefully, “Mommy! I doo-doo!”
My cracked face stayed in place, even when I glanced over to find Alton’s ass still beat-boxing, but now into the mirror, checking himself out.
Goddamn knucklehead.
But I couldn’t deny the exuberance in the room felt by all, all because of this little guy. My miracle, Jordan.
~~~~~~~~~~
~
Zoey
~
“Can you move any slower on dicing that cheese?” I threw over my shoulder to my sister, Ruth.
The party was due to start in just over an hour and I needed to put the pan of macaroni and cheese in the oven twenty minutes ago. The aluminum pan was huge and needed time to cook all the way through.
“Girl, I’m gonna be done in no time!” Ruth hissed, but respectfully. “Is JR still sleep? You need to get him up and dressed. You know how cranky he is at least a half an hour after being woken up.”
She was right. I needed to get him up soon. It was his big day; his second birthday party. My mother was in the great room with a few of her friends from church, I’m sure gloating over the massive apartment in her subtle southern manner. My mother was overjoyed with the décor of the posh apartment from the time it was complete when I was carrying Jordan.
As I placed the deviled eggs in the French four-door refrigerator
that came along with the place
, I heard the doorbell ring. I wiped my hands on the apron I wore and took off for the door. As I approached the foyer, I noticed Angela headed for it as well.
“I got it,” I sighed as I turned the long stem of the French doorknob handle.
When the door swung open, my heart went into hyperactivity. I was expecting him today—he
is
Jordan’s father, after all. However, what I wasn’t expecting was him at this early hour.
Stenton’s head was angled towards the floor for seconds before his eyes reached mine. He wore an aluminum gray sweat suit with zippers in nontraditional places on the jacket and hip area. It was relaxed on his muscular frame, displaying his toned arms, chest, and waist. His feet were clad in classic black Air Jordans and his hair was neatly cut into a low fade with tiny curls at the top. His scent permeated the entire foyer and traveled up my nostrils, tapped my heart and shook my core. I felt tingling sensations below. When his eyes met mine, I swallowed hard, because that’s when I noticed his sharply cut goatee and mustache framed around his luscious mouth. For seconds Stenton didn’t speak either. I was stuck and didn’t understand why. It had only been a few weeks since he showed up at the bakery on a stealthy agenda.
Geesh, I know I look a hot mess,
I sighed internally. Stenton raised a miniature suit bag.
“I wasn’t expecting you this early,” I breathed out like an idiot.
“I told you I was bringing my little man’s gear. He has to be fresh to death for his second birthday,” Stenton gleamed, showing his perfectly aligned teeth and pink gums.
I didn’t recall him telling me he’d be early. Perhaps it was because during that brief email conversation about my plans for this party, I’d quickly gotten annoyed at his suggestion, under the guise of an offering, of having this party at a facility. Or when I’d declined that, his subtle push to have it catered. I wasn’t raised that way. I understood that Jordan would have an entirely different lifestyle than I did coming up, but I didn’t want him to miss out on the benefit of simplicity. According to his savings account that I had access to, Jordan was already a multi-millionaire. I didn’t want to raise a brat. I didn’t want all the indulgence that came with wealth. I advised Stenton that, God-willing, Jordan would have plenty of birthdays to do the
rich kid
thing with. I wanted to start him off layman style.
“
I
-I’m sorry. I don’t recall you saying that,” I murmured as I stood holding the door open.
Stenton’s brows plucked, gesturing,
Well, I’m here.
“Oh, okay. Come in…please.”
I moved aside to let him enter the apartment, getting another opportunity at his celestial scent. Stenton stepped inside, just a few feet beyond me at the door and turned to me.
“Where’s the birthday boy?” he asked with barely controlled excitement.
Trying not to get lost in that thought, I swallowed, stretched my neck and answered, “In his room, napping. You’re just in time to wake him up,” I tried to force a steady cadence to my voice.
Stenton cracked the most tender smile. “Yeah, it takes that dude at least thirty minutes to shake his crankiness after a nap.”
I knew that although he’d neglected my heart, tore it into a gazillion pieces, he adored our son. It was overwhelming and depressing to see how he doted on the little creature we created together, but looked past me.
He pivoted towards the corridor leading to the bedrooms. “Does he need a bath? I can get him up a lot faster with one of those, I recently learned.” The boyish smile that crested his face made my belly flutter.
“Do what you need to do,” was all that I could get out.
With that alluring smile in tow, Stenton gaited purposefully down the hall to our son’s bedroom. Secretly, I’d felt sorry for Stenton’s latest disposition. The season had turned horrible after Dallas. There were reports of teammates, coaches and fans being disappointed with his performance. Then Tynisha told me his drinking had increased recently. The only thing that seemed to have brightened his temperament was Jordan. He certainly didn’t smile so much when he showed up at the bakery two weeks ago.
“It’s time to get dressed now!” I heard a forceful whisper directly in my ear. I knew right away it was Angela.
After several beats, I returned, “Yeah,” expelling a long breath. “Okay.”
Nearly forty minutes later, I was dressed and walking out of my bedroom suite, buttoning the silk ivory blouse Tynisha selected in advance for me to wear. She had me pair it with light boyfriend jeans, cuffed at the ankle, dramatic gold designer jewelry, and simple strappy saddles for the house. She enjoyed playing dress up with me. She said it was only out of pity.
Angela had arranged for my mother and crew to finish dinner. So I was now dressed and still thirty minutes ahead of schedule, leaving me time to be sure everything was set. As I walked past the front door, the bell sounded. I moved rapidly towards the door, pausing just a moment before opening it to finish with the cuffs of my blouse. When I pulled back on the handle, I was met with an even bigger surprise: guests I wasn’t expecting at all.
It was Erika Erceg, reality-show beauty—and Stenton’s
still
girlfriend—at my door for some arbitrary reason. And she wasn’t alone. She was with an equally beautiful woman of ambiguous-heritage, her sister, Emily whom I’d recognized from their show. Seeing her caused my mind to go back to the audio that had gone viral months ago when she went off on Erika for cheating on Stenton. Then that thought brought the prevailing question to mind: Why was he still with her after her alleged cheating? I hadn’t heard much of Stenton and Erika’s relationship in months. Not that I stalked them like I used to. My life had become too demanding for that old pastime.
Now, with seeing her up close, I could assess her person. Erika was shorter than me—perhaps five feet and two inches, and a size four. Her long, black, thick, silky wavy hair fell just above the crack of her rear today. She wore a black mini dress, with a black tailored motorcycle jacket and sexy black booties. Just as in all of her paparazzi shots and on the television screen, her skin was impeccably flawless and her body would make a straight woman question her sexuality. She didn’t look at me, she looked upon me.
There was a difference
. She was revealing her true nature at my front door.
“Hi,” I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Can I help you?” I asked with pinched brows.
It was the weakest question, but in all honesty, I wasn’t expecting this starlet at my home. She was the type that was too preoccupied with selfies, or sensual photo shoots with magazines,
or sensual selfies with Stenton
to be at my front door, the day of my son’s second birthday party.
Erika was privately the bane of my existence. I reveled in the baby weight gain after having Jordan, but after seeing the second picture Tynisha sent me of the two, and this particular one being the viral picture of Erika and Stenton frolicking half naked on Pinney’s Beach in Nevis, I made it my business to tone the last fifteen pounds my bundle of joy brought on.
She was the perfect hourglass figure. There were rumors of cosmetic enhancements, but it didn’t matter; Erika was a banger. And she was now in my home.
And
she looked incredible. All I could think about was Stenton touching her with the same desperation and need that he’d taken me with long ago. In that instant, I envisioned him pulling her abdomen into him frantically, as though his life depended on it. I could imagine his suckling on her breasts as though they produced sustenance. His tongue between the cheeks of her bountiful rear. His lips whispering promises of forever as his sacs slammed against her—
“You are…?” Erika asked haughtily.
I was so out of sorts that I didn’t address her arrogance, I only fell into it.
“Zoey.”
Her beautiful almond shaped eyes grew large. “Oh!” her breath caught. “You’re…well, I’m not sure if you know me, but I’m Stenton’s girlfriend, Erika. My friends call me Rika. Stenton invited me to celebrate little Jordan’s birthday,” she pronounced excitedly.
I noticed Emily inspecting the immediate area, taking inventory. “Nice place,” she nodded pretentiously. “Understated, but cute,” she offered on a shrug.
“Ummmm…thanks,” I replied, again, foolishly.
“Where can I find my Cinnamon Stick?” Erika asked anxiously as her eyes perused the area, gesturing her search for
her
man.
I was thrown, but stupidly lifted my arm towards the rear of the apartment and answered, “He’s back in JR’s room, getting him ready.”