Forever Craving You: A Grudging Hearts Novel

by Arthurs, Nia

  “I was at Ollie’s.”

  Cobie pulls back. Eyes wide. Plump mouth parted. “You slept at Ollie’s?”

  Cheeks heating, I nod.

  “Just slept?”

  “Among other things.”

  Questions pop up in Cobie’s eyes.

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  “You’re lucky I have a twist-out session with Ms. Shirley.” She wags a finger. “Or there’s no way I would have left this office.”

  “I know.”

  With one last suspicious look at me, Cobie leaves for her appointment.

  I focus on work, keeping one eye on the front door in case Rick comes back.

  No, not in case.

  When Rick comes back.

  He proposed yesterday. There’s no chance he’s staying away.

  But, as closing nears and I see no sign of him, I allow myself to relax.

  The clock ticks in the background.

  It feels like every second takes an hour.

  If it’s not obvious already, I can’t wait for my date with Ollie.

  It’s just a date though.

  We’re not dating.

  It’s not that I’m afraid of committing to him.

  Or maybe I am.

  Something tells me, if I give us that label, every wall between Ollie and my heart will crumble. And I need to have some form of control here. Just in case he’s too good to be true.

  “Every man is evil. It’s just a matter of picking the devil that can pay the most for your soul.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut.

  Why can’t I get Mom’s voice out of my head?

  Zania clears her throat.

  I jump. Force a smile. “You leaving?”

  “I finished cleaning the kitchen.”

  “Thanks. Good work today.”

  She clutches her backpack strap. “See you tomorrow.”

  I nod and watch her disappear through the kitchen door. When I’m certain she’s gone, I wilt against the table.

  Might as well have stayed in that small town for all the good it did. Mom’s voice is like an annoying song that I can’t get out of my mind.

  A mighty sigh tears from my throat. Almost covers the sound of the bell jangling as the front door opens.

  My body stiffens.

  I spin, expecting to see Rick.

  Instead, a woman walks in. She’s tall and lithe. Dark brown skin with reddish undertones. Beautiful, dainty facial features. Nice body.

  She looks like a model.

  Her weave is whack though. She should demand a refund.

  “Can I help you?” I ask politely.

  “Are you Chandra Howard?” Her voice is brusque, agitated.

  “Yeah…?”

  Brown eyes fire up. Long arms sway at her sides as she stomps toward me. Gets all up in my face. “This is your first and only warning. Stay away from my man.”

  Shock twines around my arms and feet. I blink once. Twice.

  Is this Ollie’s ex?

  Surprise bleeds away. Leaving a primal, territorial burning in my chest.

  I’ve never fought over a man.

  Ever.

  But Ollie’s not someone I’m willing to let go yet.

  Not until I’m good and ready.

  I don’t know who this woman is, but if she thinks shouting at me will get her anywhere, she’s in for a rude awakening. I grew up on the south side of town where poverty, crime and drugs was a lifestyle.

  My mama trained me to act snobbish so I could fit in with the wealthy, but I remember my roots.

  I straighten my shoulders. Raise my chin. “Or what?”

  “Or what?” She laughs darkly. Spits to the side. Dives into a long string of curse words. “Ho, you think I’m playing?”

  Ho?

  I feel myself reaching for my imaginary hoop earrings. “I don’t know what you and Ollie had in the past, but it’s over. He’s with me now. So why don’t you run along before you make a fool of yourself?”

  Her gorgeous face screws up. “Who the hell is Ollie?”

  “I…” Confusion taints my word, stifles my anger. “Wait, who are you talking about?”

  “Rick.”

  My jaw drops.

  She shoves my shoulder before I can clear up the misunderstanding. “I know you’re sleeping with him. You raggedy, piece of trash. Keep your distance from my man.”

  “Your… wait.”

  “You don’t want to cross me. I’ll tear you up. I’ll make you bleed.”

  “Look. Lady…” My voice crackles with amusement. This is just too crazy to take seriously. “You’ve got it wrong.”

  “Hell, yeah I do. Don’t try to pretty it up now. I know your type. You jump on any rich man you can find just to suck him dry. You a gold-digging ho. Ugly black heifer. Try all you want, but you’re not taking my man, you home wrecker! I’ll tear that fancy weave straight from your head.”

  Is she on drugs?

  She’s yelling. Screaming.

  I have no idea where she got this information from, but she’s way off.

  She shoves my shoulder again when I say nothing.

  I only laugh.

  Hold my hands up in surrender.

  There’s no way I’m fighting a woman over Rick.

  Not. A. Damn. Chance. In. Hell.

  “Look, Lady. I’m not with Rick.”

  “So now you’re trying to deny it!” she hollers. Slams her fists against her hips. “I know you got this bakery ‘cause he bought it for you. Wasn’t that enough? Now you gotta be greedy for more? Black heifas don’t know when to stop.”

  She keeps calling me a ‘heifa’.

  It’s grating.

  Annoying.

  And the reminder that my bakery is from Rick gets on my last nerves too.

  It’s true though.

  She’s got me there.

  I breathe through my nose.

  Keep it cool, Chandra. She’s obviously mentally unstable.

  “Miss, I don’t want your man. I’ve got my own waiting for me at home.”

  That seems to slow her roll.

  She appraises me. Head tilted. Eyebrows scrunched.

  Brown lips pursed.

  She’s trying to weigh my words, my sincerity.

  I keep my hands up. Let her search my gaze.

  If she wants Rick, she can have him. There’s no competition from me.

  Her shoulders relax.

  She steps back.

  An almost sheepish look flits across her face.

  I lower my arms. Adjust my silky halter-top that got rumpled when she pushed me.

  The moment I open my mouth to explain about Ollie—which for some reason is something I want to boast about—the front door opens.

  Bells jangle.

  Rick walks in.

  The woman spins. Gasps.

  “Chandra!” His eyes sail past her. Ignoring her. Snubbing her. In five large strides, Rick appears in front of me.

  I sense the woman’s ire rising again.

  Moving up to dangerous levels.

  My heart thuds. “Rick…”

  “Are you okay?” He takes my hand in his. Massages it. Grabs my head. Turns it left and right.

  I push him off. “Move…”

  “What the hell?” the woman screams.

  “Get off.” I push Rick’s slimy hands away.

  He latches on. Like an octopus. I start to wonder if he’s doing this intentionally to make the woman mad.

  “Rick, stop.”

  Instead of listening, Rick yanks me close. “Chandra, I love you.”

  My eyes bulge. “What?”

  Instead of explaining his sudden, idiotic declaration, he yanks me forward and kisses me.

  21 Chandra

  Rick’s tongue is an oily snake. Just like him. I choke, struggling to breathe with him jamming it down my throat. A helpless feeling accompanies his unwelcome touch.

  There’s nothing hot about this kiss. Nothing romantic about his clingy
body pressing on top of me.

  Panic swells in my chest.

  He’s not letting go.

  My arms can’t push him off.

  So I bite down on his tongue.

  Hard.

  He finally gets the messages and slurps it back out of my mouth.

  Disgusted, I spit to the side and wipe my lips off with the back of my wrist, glaring at him.

  Rick’s breathing all hard and fast like he’s ready to take things to the bedroom.

  I’m breathing hard too.

  Because I’m pissed.

  I should have pressed down harder. Bitten his tongue off.

  Curse words pop into my head, but before I can shoot them off, I feel someone grab my hair. Fingers claw into the strands. Yank back.

  Powerful.

  Raging.

  I hear the black threads popping loose like she’s trying to tear my sew-in straight out of my cornrows.

  “You black heifa!”

  I scream in pain.

  A hand collides with my face.

  The slap is meaty. Echoes in the stunned quiet of my civilized bakery. My head whips to the side. If not for my spinal bones, it might have spun all the way around like a possessed character from a horror movie.

  The abuse fires something off, something deep and dark in my soul.

  I glare at her.

  Rick’s bitter ex stares right back at me.

  Unapologetic.

  Her chest rises and falls briskly.

  This idiot is still angry with me when it’s Rick that forced that kiss on my face?

  It’s self-defense.

  I swear.

  When I slap her back and grab her hair, it’s not because I give a damn about Rick. It’s because she needs a beating.

  And when I throw her to the ground and we start wrestling, it’s because I’m tired… so damn tired… of being mistreated and yelled at over someone who is not even worth a quarter of this energy.

  Shrieks echo against the walls.

  I fight with all my might, but my opponent is stronger. More unruly. Her hands scratch at my face and shoulders. Go for my eyes. She bites and kicks. She knows exactly how to make it hurt. Knows exactly how to fight dirty.

  For the longest, Rick doesn’t break us apart.

  I get the feeling he’s enjoying this. Getting off on it.

  But the fight isn’t totally his fault.

  I’m the one who slapped her back, who escalated an already tense situation with more violence.

  It doesn’t take long until I regret that choice.

  I want to stop.

  I’m tired of fighting.

  I’m not even good at it.

  But I can’t show any weakness because the moment I slow down, she gets her second wind and starts beating me harder.

  “Stop it, Rachel!” Rick yells.

  Finally.

  He grabs the other woman’s shoulders and hauls her off me. I taste something coppery on my tongue and realize my lip is bleeding. Her mouth is busted too, but I’m sure I look worse.

  My top is ruined.

  Damn.

  It was my favorite too.

  “Get off me!” Rachel violently jerks her shoulders.

  Rick drops her immediately, like she’s a hot potato he wants nothing to do with.

  He sails over to me. “Chandra, are you okay?”

  Rachel growls, an unearthly sound.

  Rick jumps and hides behind my back.

  The coward.

  My breath is thick.

  My nostrils flare.

  My face still burns from that first slap.

  Rachel points a crooked finger. Her wig is tilting completely off the side of her head and revealing the black net she wore under it. “You said you weren’t together.”

  “We’re not,” I spit.

  Rick places his arms around me. “We’re getting married.”

  “Back off,” I scream at him. “Don’t you lay a finger on me!”

  His eyes widen.

  He shuffles an inch away.

  Rachel’s voice softens. “Rick, baby, don’t do this. You can’t do this to me.”

  “It’s over, Rachel. Leave before I call the cops.”

  “I’ll call the damn cops on both of you!” I roar.

  “I’m not scared of the cops!” Rachel bounces me with her chest like a furious rooster. “Call them!” Another breast bounce. “Call them!”

  “Enough, Rachel! Get your ghetto self out of here.” Rick grabs her arm. Hauls her like a rag doll.

  She stumbles.

  Almost falls.

  Catches herself.

  Her eyes narrow, two blazing brown pools of fury. “You think you can just drop me like this, Rick? You think I’m just going to roll over and take this while you marry some ugly ho? She just wants you for your money.” Rachel slaps her chest. “I love you. And you said you loved me too.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You’re denying it now? Huh? You were fooling around with heifas like her behind my back. Couldn’t keep it in your damn pants. Now you want to drop me? Hell no! Hell no, Rick!”

  I groan.

  Run a hand over my throbbing temple.

  “Would you two just shut up?”

  “Don’t listen to her, Chandra. She’s lying.” Rick points an accusing finger. “She’s crazy. You’re the only one for me.”

  “The only one? The—“ Rachel glares at the both of us with murderous eyes. “My life is yours, Rick. You made me feel like I was your first and last. And what? You want to mess around now? For this piece of crap? I let you take it from behind. Does she do that? Does she get as freaky as me? You know what you’re giving up.”

  “Enough!” I scream. “Get out!”

  The room goes quiet.

  I shake my head. “Rick, take that woman and go.”

  No one moves.

  I grab my cell phone. Put it to my ear. “Forcing a kiss on someone counts as sexual assault. Since I hit her back, I’m guilty too, so let’s all share a jail cell tonight.”

  “Alright, alright.” He jumps into action. Shuffles the woman out while looking at me. “We’re leaving.”

  “Don’t you dare show up in front of me again,” I call hoarsely. “Both of you.”

  The bell chirps.

  The door slams shut.

  They left.

  I sink to my knees.

  As night falls outside, darkness creeps into the bakery. Shadows shift around me, thick, murky and frightening. Everywhere hurts. I should have never played big, acting like I can fight.

  Still trembling, I climb to my feet.

  The room spins around me.

  I lean against the nearest table and wait for my vision to clear. As my world finally rights itself, I catch a glimpse of my harried reflection in the phone’s screen.

  My hair’s a mess.

  I’ve got scratches all over.

  My lip’s busted.

  I look like I just got the crap beat out of me.

  I turn my phone on. Watch the screen light up the darkness as I scroll to his name.

  I type out a message.

  ME: Ollie, something came up. I can’t make it tonight.

  Picking myself off the floor, I limp to the security box and arm the place. After I lock up, I head outside into the cool night and call Cobie.

  She picks up on the second ring.

  “Hey, girl.” She giggles. I imagine her bright smile and brown eyes that see the good in everything.

  “Cobie, I—”

  “Hun, staap.” More giggling. “Sorry, Chandra. Griffin’s over here…” She moans. The kind that’s breathy and telling. They’re obviously ‘hanging out’ right now, which is further proved when she starts stammering, “That’s... oh...” Rustling sounds. In a still breathy but more collected voice, she says, “I kicked Griffin off. Talk to me.”

  I go quiet.

  “Chandra?”

  “I’m still here.”

  �
��Are you coming home now? Don’t worry. I’ll have all distractions gone by the time you get here.”

  I turn.

  “Chandra?”

  “Uh… no. I’m not coming home.”

  “Are you spending the night at Ollie’s again?” she asks, her voice purring with suggestion.

  I let her think what she wants. “No comment.”

  “Have fun.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hang up. Grab my keys for the bakery.

  Looks like I’m crashing at Brew Drop tonight.

  22 Ollie

  I read Chandra’s text message with a growing frown.

  ‘Something came up’? It’s a little too vague, a little too ambiguous for me to be comfortable.

  A niggling voice in the back of my head whispers that something’s wrong.

  And that something probably has to do with Rick.

  The man freaking proposed. He won’t just walk away after that.

  But I can’t jump to conclusions.

  Maybe nothing’s wrong.

  Maybe she’s just tired.

  I hope that’s all.

  But I gotta confirm.

  Grabbing my phone, I call Chandra.

  The tomato sauce on the stove bubbles over, filling the air with the savory scent of basil and other spices.

  The line goes straight to voicemail.

  I pace—well, more like hobble—along the length of the kitchen.

  Worried.

  Distressed.

  What if she got into it with Rick? What if the bastard hit her again? She’d try to hide that from me.

  I call her again.

  “Pick up, Chandra,” I mumble. Turn off the stove.

  Dial again.

  The line clicks.

  “Hello?”

  Thank God. “Where are you?” I demand.

  “Ollie…”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing. I’m at the bakery.”

  I grab the crutches we got from the hospital yesterday. Switch the phone to my other ear. Pin it there with my shoulder and cheek so I can free my hands. “I’m coming.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not going to bother you. I’ll make sure you’re okay and then head back.”

  “No!”

  I pause at the vehemence in her tone.

  Chandra lowers her voice. “Why are you overreacting? I’m fine. Besides, you can’t drive.”

  “I’ll call a cab.”