Maybe they can hand me over freely to the other not only because of the way they feel for me, but because of the way they love and respect each other.
Or maybe, I’m using it as an excuse to try and justify taking part in it.
But no matter what, it’s there, evident in their bond, their kinship, their intertwined lives.
“Wish You Were Here” floats out of the Bluetooth speaker on his desk, the melody surrounds us, drawing on my sentiment as I grip Dominic’s hand and turn to face him. His attention stays on the ceiling.
“You don’t hate me.” It’s a statement, not a question, but he ignores it. “And this is a date. You stare at me too. All the time. And you’re not as cruel or scary as you make yourself out to be.”
Nothing, it’s as if he’s completely deaf to the words I’m speaking.
Forever a motherfucker.
“Whatever,” I agree with myself for my own sake. “Today was amazing, and you’re an amazing reading partner.” I giggle because I’m high, because this man makes me feel high, because I’m happy. I turn his hand over and brush my fingers along his palm. When I look back at him, I see his gaze follow my fingers before it returns to mine. He’s not used to the simple affection, and that saddens me. We hold our stare for a few seconds before I speak up.
“My rainy days are yours, Dominic. If you want them.”
“It rains a lot here,” he says after a few long beats.
“Fine with me. But my sunny days belong to Sean.”
“Making rules defeats—”
“No, I’m not making rules. It’s a request,” I interrupt, my eyes search his. “I just need some clarity for myself, but I want rainy days, very much.”
He bites his lower lip and I click another mental picture. “So, you’re in?”
My eyes drop and tension fills the air. “I don’t know.”
“It’s that serious,” he warns. “Don’t downplay this.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
Opening my mouth to speak, I freeze when the sound of Sean’s Nova filters into the room through our open window. His arrival has me scrambling around to collect the trash and other evidence of our day. Grabbing the bag from the can next to Dominic’s desk, I rush around tossing in our takeout and empty water bottles.
I can feel steel eyes on me, and my guilty heart pounds in an erratic beat while I scramble around the room.
One glance at his set jaw and chilled eyes lets me know he’s pissed that I don’t believe him. That I don’t believe Sean. That I’m still unconvinced this won’t blow up in my face. Cowering, I tie the bag just as Sean bounds up the carpeted stairs. I have the door halfway open when he peers in. He’s soaked from head to foot and greets me with a golden smile. “Hey, Pup.”
“Hi,” I say, my eyes drop as he draws near.
I can’t do this. I can’t.
But if that’s the truth, why does it feel like my heart is capable? My body has given into the idea easily, but the damning in my head never ceases.
It’s their words, their actions and reactions that ease my mind, not my own mindset, and at some point, that has to change if this is going to work. Sean waits patiently, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. I’m naked beneath Dom’s fresh T-shirt, a sure indication that I’ve temporarily switched sides and beds.
I reply with the only safe line my brain supplies. “You were gone forever. Did you have fun today?”
“Yeah, I did, perfect hike, and then I had some work to do, you?”
I nod, emotion clogging my throat. Unsure of what to do, I don’t glance back at Dominic to gauge his read on this situation. After another painful silence, Sean tips my chin and shakes his head adamantly before leaning in to kiss me. His lips are soft, his smell making my eyes water as he pulls away.
“Still trying to make peace with the devil?”
My nod is solemn. “I want to so much.”
“I’m all yours, Cecelia.” Words, the perfect words from a perfect man I no longer feel I deserve. He nods past my shoulder at Dom before whispering a soft, “Night, man.” I open my mouth just as he grips the handle on the other side of the door and closes it with me inside.
Shocked, I stand motionless for several seconds and turn to see Dominic’s eyes on me before he pulls the empty pillow closer to his shoulder. Climbing back into bed with him, my smile grows wide just before he clicks off the light and reaches for me.
“THAT ONE,” LAYLA SAYS AS I push through the dressing room door and step in front of the full-length mirror. Tessa, the store owner, nods in agreement from her position at the register of the small shop as I critique myself in the pale, yellow sundress that hugs my every curve. I’ve toned up, due to extended hikes with Sean. The color of the dress makes my sun-tinted skin appear darker and brings out the blue in my eyes.
“Yeah, this one.”
Layla gives me a sly grin and leans in, out of Tessa’s earshot. “Which one is this for?”
“Sean. I’m going to head over to the house after we leave and cook for the boys before fireworks tonight.”
She sorts through a rack of hangers and grins. “If I didn’t love my shithead fiancé so much, and hadn’t watched those two twerps grow up, I would be jealous.”
Layla is substantially older than me, having just turned thirty, and I hadn’t realized how much older in our previous exchanges. From our conversations, I’ve gathered she’s been in the ‘club’ since the beginning. She’s a true ride-or-die when it comes to the hood, and we’ve been spending more time together in the last few weeks. She’s the only person aside from Tyler who knows my Sunday Brunch smile secret.
The secret that I’m in a polyamorous relationship.
Which is odd and wonderful, exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time.
My phone sounds from my purse, and I pluck it from where it sits in the chair next to the dressing room to decline FaceTime with my mother. I’ve been avoiding her like the plague, due to my current dating status and the fact that I don’t want to share any part of this with her. From the time I hit puberty until now, I’ve condemned her silently for sharing stories showcasing her blatant promiscuity, and now I have no place to judge. I’ve never once appreciated the fact that she played more friend than mother with her oversharing in that respect. And it’s all wrong. I shouldn’t punish her for it now that I better understand it. But some part of me wants to believe my circumstances are different. That my relationships are different. Grabbing my check card from my wallet, I brush away the guilt and see a message pop up when I hand it to the shop owner who’s done nothing but helicopter us since we walked through the door.
I just wanted to see your face. Stop ignoring my calls. This is bullshit, kid, call me back or I’ll be driving in from Atlanta TONIGHT.
I type out a quick reply.
Sorry. I’ll call you later.
That’s what you said last week.
I will. Promise.
Once Tessa rings me up, Layla snips off the tag. The dress costs far more than I would normally spend on any one item of clothing, but under Sean’s influence, I only shop locally now. Which means I pay thirty dollars more at this downtown boutique for a dress and pump money into my local economy to support small business owners.
But the fear was real in Tessa’s demeanor and hopeful eyes when Layla and I walked in and started eyeing price tags. It was so apparent she was desperate for a sale, which made me feel good about what I was buying and terrified for her that it wouldn’t last. As I check out, I get some background on how she had inherited her grandmother’s store when she died and rebranded it, sinking every dime into refacing the little shop. Tessa’s not much older than me, and I can’t help but feel for her as she catches herself oversharing, clear emotion leaking from her voice.
I make it a point to tell Sean about it, not for the credit of shopping here, but because I know he can do something about it. Christmas comes every quarter to a few select and local businesse
s in Triple Falls, mostly businesses owned by hood relatives to keep them afloat. That I learned by a full day of being in on the secret.
As promised, I got an answer to another lingering question. Tyler is the Friar. And I figured it out the day he and I were charged with passing out the checks to said businesses, something Sean didn’t want me to miss. By the end of the day, I understood why he let me in on it. He wanted me to witness first-hand the why of what they do.
I was a sobbing mess both during and by the end of it when the store owners burst through the doors with tears in their eyes. Every one of them had grateful words pouring from their lips as they accepted their checks.
But his part was to play the mask for the true culprit, Dominic.
Dominic and his sorcery behind the keyboard had everything to do with it. The source of the money? Large corporations and banks that siphon funds from unsuspecting shareholders and employees. Corporations and banks who could never report the theft for fear of getting examined more closely by the powers that be, the powers that govern and regulate.
That’s the beauty of robbing thieves.
More than once, I’ve asked Sean about his plans for my father’s company. Every time he’s changed the subject, refusing to acknowledge the question and I wouldn’t be surprised if, down the line, my father got a painful dose of justice.
That may be hitting too close to home and my boys are nothing, if they aren’t cautious. Not only that, but a substantial hit would also endanger the jobs of their friends and relatives.
I can’t, for the life of me, understand how they get away with it, but they do and have, and it’s been going on for some time. Sean argues that it’s been going on far too long on the other side of things. The government either fines the white-collar thieves heavily or some government official accepts a payoff to help cover tracks. No one gets prosecuted, and no one truly pays.
I wholeheartedly agree with his logic, which made me happy to be in on the secret.
Aside from that significant tidbit of information, Sean’s kept his mouth closed about hood business, still waiting on my decision. I’ve taken my time with it. They’ve kept me at arm’s length, refusing to answer any more questions until I put a voice to it and pledge my loyalty. Tyler is rarely home, if ever, and he, Sean, nor Dom will give me any details on the why of that. He’s still in the Reserves for four more years, that much I do know, so I assume he’s keeping up with participation. I have zero clue of what he does with the rest of his time. He’s rarely at the garage anymore, either. So, when I’m over, it’s just the two men in my life and me.
And when I’m with them, I’m being schooled constantly. Though I still haven’t voiced a decision, that hasn’t at all stopped them from voicing their opinions. Dominic is speaking up more as well. It’s highly entertaining waking up and walking downstairs to see them watching the morning news on every station as I hand them coffee. Both of them tense at the same moments and utter ‘bullshit’ at the exact same time. In lieu of football, they talk politics and are never in favor of either side. If I wasn’t studying the distinctions between them daily, I would sometimes think they are the same person.
But in a lot of aspects, they’re night and day, dark cloud and golden sun. And drawing the comparison between them has become inevitable. I stopped beating myself up about it after the first week or so.
I’ve never navigated my way through dating two men, and I’ve got more on my plate with them than I can handle. If I weren’t so blissed out daily, I would probably give in to the naysayer screaming “ho” in my head. I bat that bitch away like a gnat because I’m sure that many women, given a chance, would tap dance toward either of their beds, roll around in their affection and then vie for my position between them.
Though I am tap-dancing over that moral line, the day at the lake was the one and only time I allowed myself to be shared at the same time.
But that’s where it ended for me.
Man, did they ever make it memorable.
Not because I didn’t enjoy it. Just the opposite. I enjoyed it far too much. However, my conscience did not, and it cheapens the romance aspect of it for me.
These two men have flipped my world, made colors more vivid, made sounds sweeter, made the world as a whole more bearable. My dreams consist of ray-filled days full of coconut lotion, long kisses, itchy sunburns, floating between waterfalls, and sighs before exhausted bodies collapse against feathery pillows. Other dreams of rainy days and nights filled with flips of pages and old nineties flicks, of cheddar popcorn and lavender scented blankets, of lightning and thunder and the fast pants and moans between the streak in the sky and the ground rattling boom that follows.
But these are my waking dreams, and I’m living them.
Dreaded shifts at the plant no longer bother me. I work them faithfully with Selma’s smile. My father’s absence no longer affects me in the way it has in the past because I’ve bore witness to two prime examples that there are good men left in the world. Loyal men. Faithful men. Though thieves they may be because they’ve stolen my heart.
I’m in love with both of them.
Two men, who make me feel adored, cherished, and respected. Two men, who have no issue which bed I keep warm. Two men, who look at me with nothing but lust and affection. Well, Sean does; Dominic gifts me with rare looks and slammed the door in my face the last time I saw him. I’d popped my head in his room and barely managed to get out before it was sealed tight. I tried not to take it personally, but I lost. We’re currently in a fight he doesn’t even know about, but I don’t let that deter me.
He’s a moody one, that motherfucker.
Layla smiles at Tessa while she bags her dresses and thanks us both profusely.
We eyeball each other as we exit the store.
“I’ll tell him.” I offer as we cross the walkway of the square toward her truck.
“I thought you would.”
“It’s so sad.”
She nods.
“I love that we can help, well,” I bite my lip, “you know what I mean.” We climb up into Layla’s massive truck, parked off Main Street as she looks around.
“Did you like growing up here?”
“Yeah. I’m glad I stayed when I graduated. I see it differently as the years pass.”
I consider the bustling square that looks like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. “I get that.”
“Gotta love Small Town, USA,” she says softly before turning to me. “Do you think you’ll end up settling in Atlanta?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve no plans past applying to UG.”
Layla owns a small salon on the outskirts of town and refurbishes furniture on the side. We spent most of our morning scouring yard sales until she found her new project.
She pulls away and heads toward my father’s house where she picked me up this morning. I make sure to sleep at home at least twice a week to keep myself centered, though it’s not much help. My dreams are twice as memorable as they used to be.
“What you thinking about over there?”
My cheeks heat with guilt. “I’m so screwed.”
“It’s okay to be happy, Cecelia. You don’t have to apologize for smiling. I don’t know who taught you differently.”
I look over to where she sits, her hand on the wheel as she winks at me.
“I’m in love with them.”
She grins. “I know.”
“You think they do?”
“You haven’t told them?”
“No. You’re the first person I’ve told.”
“I’m glad.”
“I can’t talk to my mom, or my best friend, ya know? They won’t get it. But you do, and I’m grateful.”
“Trust me when I say that you’re better off keeping them in the dark about everything.”
“Trust me. I intend to.” I type out a lengthy text to my mother, promising her some one-on-one and toss my phone in my purse.
“Have you ever regretted
it?”
Layla and I never directly talk about the hood, it’s kind of an unspoken rule between us.
“Absolutely. I’ve lost my damned mind a thousand times. And when I thought Denny and I were going to break up, it was worse. But I’ve got a leg up on him. I’ve been in this longer, secured my place. But the worrying,” she shakes her head, “fuck, that can really weigh you down.”
“It’s dangerous to get so close, isn’t it?”
“Honey, breathing is dangerous these days.”
“True.”
“Remember, you can be as involved with them as you want to be. It’s all up to you. But I’ve got your back, babe. Especially with those two shits.” She grins. “Dominic seems more relaxed lately.”
“He’s in trouble at the moment.”
She turns to me, a hint of warning in her baby blues. “Keep your wits about you at all times, okay? You’re taking on a lot, and it’s hard enough dealing with one.”
I smile. “Thanks, I will. And thanks for the hair.” I run my hand through my newly trimmed mane and lowlights.
“Welcome. Let me know how tonight goes, and I’ll pick you up for Eddie’s next week. I could use a girls’ night.”
“It’s a date.”
She pulls away and I charge through the front door and up the stairs, changing sandals and ditching my phone before I gloss my lips. I’m halfway back down, building a mental to-do list when I see Roman standing at the bottom of the steps waiting for me, and I freeze. He’s in casual attire with a half-drained gin in hand.
I slow my descent as he considers me with glassy eyes. It’s not his first drink of the day. “Do you still live here?”
“On occasion,” I answer honestly.
“I knew you would be off for the holiday, so I drove home last night.”
Flock Page 24
