Love Delivered (38 page)

“That is not my intent at all. I’m simply trying to explain that during sex, the man is not the primary receiver of pleasure. God did not intend for him to exclusively enjoy it. Sex is for procreation and mutual pleasure.”

“But primarily for procreation,” King pushed me to acknowledge.

I jerked my neck at his audacity, but quickly calmed myself.

“Let’s put it like this. If sex was primarily for procreation, why do male orgasms have physical appeal? Why do your orgasms feel not just euphoric, but are so powerful they are accompanied but a psychological response as well?”

I glanced at both men at the table. They were equally puzzled.

“Because He intended for you to experience pleasure, not only when you make a baby, but every time you indulge. You receive unmeasured bliss.”

“I think that also speaks to the measure of His favor for man,” King cut in.

I shook my head as I sipped my tea. “Not just for men. They’re not the only ones of humankind God granted the gift of orgasms to.” My eyes traveled over to his wife, whose eyes were animatedly on me.

Finally!

I wasn’t the only party at the table observing Mrs. King. So were her husband and Bernard.

“As I was saying, we all have a responsibility to our partner when married. It is a shared responsibility to make ourselves available to them spiritually, mentally and physically. That means being open to and engaged in their sexual evolution. Don’t weaken them by shunning their new curiosities as it involves your body. You don’t want them evolving without you and on to someone else when it all could have been prevented by you simply keeping an open mind.”

Bernard wrapped his Burberry encased arm around me, seemingly bursting with pride. “And this insurmountable wisdom about avoiding infidelity does come from a place of experience.”

I jerked my neck again. “I’ve had no experience with infidelity. Please. Let’s make that clear. I have no personal experience with infidelity.” I found my palm in the air emphasizing that statement.

I knew Bernard was indirectly referring to Stenton, assuming that’s why we hadn’t been together all these years. Although I didn’t understand why we hadn’t been together myself, I knew without a shadow of a doubt Stenton had never made me feel a woman shared the space he put me in when we were together. I had to tell myself not be offended by his assumption because it was due to ignorance that I caused by never discussing my affairs with Stenton with him. It just wasn’t my style. It was private. At most, I’d reserve those conversations for my mom and Angela.

“Well, looka here. If it ain’t the prodigal sister,” I heard shouted from above.

I’d know that voice anywhere. And there he was; all five feet and 6 inches of unalloyed crass. Alton was smiling mischievously with his eyes zoomed in on me. He looked…good, in blue jeans, a colorful track jacket, matching sneakers and two large diamond studs plugged in both lobes. He held his phone in his hand, but used the other to push his Bluetooth into his ear. “Yeah, it is. Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Gotchu.” Bernard never dropped his up-to-no-good smile.  

I heard Reverend King, who could be no more than thirty-five, whisper much to himself, “Is that Alton Alston?”

I felt my bottom lip hit the table.
No, Alton! Not in front of Bernard’s friends.

“Zo, I didn’t know you like this place,” Alton started.

I blinked my eyes in a flash and returned nonplussed, “I like to eat. Like to get out with friends.”

Then Alton’s eyes perused the table. “Two guys and two girls. Oh, damn! Zo, I didn’t mean to interrupt your double-date.” His lewd smile didn’t match his regrets. “But while I’m here, how’s my godson?”

The King’s eyes darted over to me for my response.

I angled my head. “Jordan’s fine, but I think you knew that. I saw he was at Altina’s indoor pool party two days ago. You posted those pictures on Facebook and IG.” I hiked my brows.

Alton was not going to be a thorn in my side and piss on me in public in the name of his bestie, who had a life that I had never interfered with.

“Mr.
Al
-Alston,” Mrs. King decided to renounce her muteness. “Do you mind taking a picture for my son? He’s a huge fan.”

What?

“I’m sorry. I know the owner of this place. He’s not with photography, but I’ll have Zoey here send him something from me. She can hook you up with Stenton Roger’s, too. Right, Zo?” Alton’s eyes were wild.

I heard the Kings’ audible gasps.

“Who are these fine people you’re dining with tonight anyway, Zo? I know choir boy.”

That’s enough! Not tonight, Alton!

“I’d love to introduce you and Ty at the same time.” I craned my neck, pretending to look over Bernard to the left of me. “Where is she? I know you two are glued at the hip.”

Mrs. King pulled in a sharp intake of air while looking beyond Alton.

That wiped the self-righteous grin right off Alton’s face.

“I’ll tell her you asked about her,” Alton spoke wryly.

“I bet you will!” I smiled brightly and watched him take off.

“You know Alton Alston and Stenton Rogers?”

Apparently your submissive wife is familiar with them, too. That brought her to life.

“How do you know them, if you don’t mind me asking?” Mrs. King asked.

I didn’t want to answer that. It wasn’t because I was ashamed of my affiliation at all. It was just that it wasn’t up for dissection or, quite frankly, discussion period. How I would convey this without being rude to Bernard’s friends, I didn’t know.

“My sweets here is not only a woman of gawd”—Bernard chimed in in his preacher’s twang, saving me from dropping my face,—“but she’s also a Princeton and Wharton alum. Achieving milestones like those puts you in heavenly realms and worldly ones, too!” He ended with some Holy Ghost scream that I was, for once, grateful for the diversion of.

“Oh, nice.” I saw the imperceptible twinkle in Mrs. King’s eye at that.

When it was time to call it a night, I cringed. It was time to see if Bernard was going to embarrass me. The waiter brought a small tray of fancy mints instead of the black portfolio for the bill. He informed the table that the bill had been arranged by “a Mr. Rogers.”

Mr. Rogers?

In a flash, I was seething.
How dare he impede?
I needed this. This outing with friends not associated with “a Mr. Rogers” was exactly what I needed. It was bad enough that I could so easily run into his associates as I did tonight with Alton. I needed to develop a personal life on my own. I thought I’d made that clear to him. If it had not been for the Kings I would have refused the notion. I didn’t need him paying for my social life, too. Bernard didn’t react to the awkward gesture. Didn’t even wince. So, I decided to mask my displeasures about it and left quietly.

~~~~~~~~~~

February 2013

~
Stenton
~

No!

Not now.

Not fucking today!

I damn near broke the remote, shutting the television off. Then as I was calling Chesney from my home phone, my cell went off.

Sarah
.

“Yes,” I answered, a little gruff. Her calling alerted me of a problem.

“Is everything alright dear?” She asked in that usual faux soprano tone, only tonight it had a slight edge to it.

“Why would you think otherwise?” I was panicking like a motherfucker.

“Well, I was on my way to pick up JR…only twenty minutes away from Zoey’s and she called to say never mind and I could go back home. I thought you two were going out tonight to talk.”

Fuck!
She got to Sarah that damn quick. She’d seen it.

“You haven’t turned around yet, have you?”

“No. I’m on the bridge.” I heard the alarm in her voice.

“Good. You can still pick him up. I’ll meet you there.”

“Stenton are you sure everything’s okay?”

“No, Sarah. It isn’t, but I’m going to try like hell to make it better.” A call beeped in. “I have to go. I’ll see you in a few.”

“
O
-okay,” she answered, so unsure.

Fuck!

I didn’t even look, I tapped to answer.

“Hello!” I shouted into the phone.

“Two months? Two months you’ve been broken up with Jenna and you didn’t tell me? Two months and you’re just now asking for my time?”

“Zo, I’ve been asking for your time for
three
months. You’ve been so fucking angry, you didn’t answer my calls, texts or emails—”

“You could have told me!” she screamed into the phone. “I’m sick of these games with you, Stenton! Just stay away from me. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Don’t email me. Even if your dog dies, call anyone but me! Start with Erika Erceg, and if she’s not available, move on to Jenna. Clearly, she’s better from your break up
TWO-FREAKING-MONTHS AGO!
”

The line disconnected.

Shit!

Almost two months. That was how long it had been since I last saw Zoey. This shit was getting out of control. My vacillating decision to keep my distance was driving me crazy. There was so much I wanted to discuss with her. So badly I wanted to clear the air. Countless things changed since Thanksgiving, Jenna being one of them. Since that night I’d called, text, emailed, and sent messages through her mother. I just needed to get to her, but she put up that damn wall again since I left her apartment the night Jenna showed up.

I learned last month through a third party how Zoey signed JR up for indoor winter t-ball with a damn association I had no relationship with. Did I expect her to know Stenton Rogers’ son cannot play sports with just any association? No, but had she consulted me like parenting partners should, I could have explained this to her. She wouldn’t take my calls, so I had to have Chesney be sure that Zoey canceled his registration and signed with another league. She didn’t like that. Instead Zoey sent back a message of “
Never mind. He won’t play at all now
.”

What the fuck!

Last week, I got lucky when she replied to a text I sent her, asking for dinner tonight. I told her I’d arrange the sitter since Eligia was off. I just needed to talk to her. She finally acquiesced…
all for this bullshit to pop off!
I snatched my coat from the closet and ran out the door. I was getting through to her tonight. We would be talking like adults for once.

On my way to the car, I called Chesney, giving him the details of this bullshit that just blew up. All of that to learn he’d already gotten notification from Jackson and his PR team. They’d been strategizing when I called. As I pulled out of my garage all I could think was “Thank fuck something’s going right tonight!”

I struggled through the holidays, especially Christmas and New Year’s Day. As I always did, I spent Christmas with the Barretts. It was, by far, the most awkward experience in the history of my knowing Zoey. Little did I know, it was the beginning of the end of a new era in my life regarding relationships. I don’t know why I didn’t expect it. It was certainly something I’d been allowing to spin out of control for too long.

Zoey spoke very little to me, barely paid two glances my way on Christmas morning. My gift to her wasn’t welcomed to put it lightly. The response was explosive on her behalf. Everyone was in the living room in Alpine, waiting on her to finish opening her gifts. Zoey was last because it took Sarah some time to summon her from cleaning the kitchen to join her family in gift opening. I must mention, we had staff to clean the kitchen this year, something I’d opted for to give the Barrett women a break.

Zoey opened the square shallow gift box containing the keys to a BMW M6 Convertible. Her doe eyes rolled from it up to me, expression deadpan.

“I don’t need a car.” She cleared her throat. “If I did, I’d buy my own. I’m perfectly capable.”

I wet my lips, needing a moment to come up with an appropriate response. Out of all the years I’d known Zoey, she’d never given rebuff when I splurged on her. This was a relief for me because I’d always felt the need to overcompensate for my malefactions over the years. I glanced over to Jordan, who stared at his mom just as tentatively as everyone else in the room.

“This isn’t about a need, Zo.” I measured my tone and words.

“No, it isn’t, because if I had any of the financial nature, you’d handle them, right? You have your people on the sidelines, waiting for my pleas. Waiting to catch my every stumble and fall, to pick me up, patch me up like I’m brand new and send me back on my closely monitored journey, all masterminded by you, right?” Zoey’s eyes were hard, expectant.

“Elizabeth!” Michael hissed.

Zoey shot straight up, pushing the box into my chest. Her eyes were glossing and her lips quivering, but she braved a mask. My Niña didn’t do the crying act. For her, it was a sign of weakness.

“I can now buy my own car. I can even now pay for a place for JR and me to live. I can pay my own utilities and insurance. I could even solely care for my mistak—” Her lids fluttered. “I can take care of all of my responsibilities alone. I don’t need big brother anymore.”