Our Muted Recklessness (Muted Hopelessness Book 2)

by Love Belvin

  Then I went for it. I kissed him for real. Doing to Ashton as he’d done to me, I eased my tongue into his mouth and moved it all around. I tasted his tongue, brushed his lips while pushing my bare pussy into him. I felt us moving and deepened the kiss. How did I get here? Kissing a guy. Being butt ass naked in a pool with him. Wanting him to fuck me, and hard.

  Ashton sat me down on the stairs of the pool. And just when I spread my legs wide to invite him in, he pulled from my lips, giving me a peck.

  “I’m hungry as hell,” he whispered, leaving my arms. “I’m going to get washed up. First, I’m going to see if Muriel can put a rush on dinner.” He was gone, walking up and out of the pool.

  “But I’m horny.” My eyes closed.

  This girly shit I’d been performing had to go. I wasn’t that.

  “I know.”

  His words knifed me in the gut. I felt a sensation wave through my belly at his dismissive words.

  Ashton grabbed a towel, slipped into his slides, and left the pool room.

  As I sat on the last few steps just outside the foyer, I found myself wondering how often the marble floors got cleaned. They were shiny as hell. How many people slipped and fell on them? Did people fall on them?

  Are these stupid questions?

  I glanced around the empty mansion. Because forget what Ashton said; this was a damn mansion. He left me an hour ago, needing to run a few errands himself. Why did I feel so…cold and scary here now?

  The door sounded, a fancy knocker. I jumped to my feet, recognizing the silhouette of a large frame, tall and wide on the other side of the frosted glass doors. When had Raj pulled up? Swinging the door open, my heart damn near exploded at the sight of his familiar face.

  “‘Bout damn time!” I moved out of the doorjamb to leave, ignoring his roving eyes.

  Ragee wouldn’t move as I pushed against him. “I’ve gotta get in here and decree my future home, man.”

  “No, you don’t!” I whispered, pushing against stone. “You’ve gotta sell records.”

  Raj shook his head. “Nah. Gotta start with calling those things that don’t exist as though they do.” His eyes roved all around the foyer. “It’s called faith, baby girl. Album sales will come, but what to do after?” he murmured.

  When Ragee got in these moods, it was trance-like. He constantly talked about faith and the shit it would manifest. I just didn’t want him to do it here and now.

  “This is a dead man’s mansion.” I pushed him again. “Let’s go!”

  He moved an inch and his brows pinched. “Is it a mansion? How many square feet?” I rolled my eyes. “Okay. Okay.” He raised his palms in the air, turning to leave. I closed the door tightly behind. “I don’t think I want anything in this area anyway. It’s too damn dense.”

  “Too dense? You live in New Brunswick.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not about that sardine life.” We began to walk off. “Did you remember the picture?”

  I nodded, shivering. It was so damn cold. “I managed it right after Ashton took off this morning.”

  Raj came through once again. He used to be the most thoughtful human I knew. Until Ashton. Last night, feeling worried about a lack of money and gift ideas, I BBM’d him again asking for solid prospects. He hit me up first thing this morning—because he had a gig last night—saying he had the perfect idea for my budget and I needed a good picture.

  In the small curved driveway, I easily spotted a midnight blue Mercedes.

  “Where did you get a Benz?”

  “LeRoy.” Raj shook his head.

  “Who is he fucking for this?”

  “Some rich Jamaican doctor who just retired.” He hit the remote to unlock the doors.

  Once inside, I asked the tricky question about the trick-turning human. “Man or woman.”

  “This time?” Raj started the engine. “A woman. They’re in Mexico for the holiday. I had to play chauffeur yesterday and dropped them off in her ride. She was insistent on me using it as I needed.” He shook his head.

  “Man!” I sighed. “You think LeRoy’s dick game’s that good?”

  Raj’s bisexual best friend, who was more feminine than me, was never short of a lover. His specialty was people with money. LeRoy never discriminated on sex, gender, race, or culture; only class. You had to have money to get his attention.

  A puff of air pushed from his lips. “Baby girl, I ain’t got a damn clue, and never plan to find out.” I laughed. “But if he’s anything like your friend, Ashton, I may have to ask for pointers.”

  I punched his arm. “What does that mean?”

  “It means your ass is fuckin’ and like it.” I rolled my eyes, biting my lips together. “Oh, my god! Look at you! Do you know what you look like right now?” he gasped, driving down the wooded road.

  “What?”

  “A goddamn girl!”

  “Ewwwww!” I screamed. “You’re supposed to be a Christian human, Raj! That’s the meanest shit you’ve ever said to me!”

  “Yeah…well…”

  His eyes were on the road, and I sat back wondering how Ashton was making out with his errands.

  Is he still mad at me?

  Chapter Nineteen

  -THEN-

  The alarm I set on Ashton’s nightstand clock awakened me. After silencing it, I turned over to check the bed for him. He was still out.

  Good…

  I rubbed my eyes, trying to snap out of the sleep haze I’d just fallen into. It was two in the morning. I guessed Ashton was out having a good time with his cousins. And mad at me… It worked for me because I had an opportunity to sneak his gifts under the tree. I climbed out of bed and pushed my feet into his slippers I’d found earlier. After gathering everything, I managed to open one of the double doors and paused. The breeze it let in reminded me of my pajamas.

  I couldn’t walk around this big ass house with skimpy clothes on. Turning for the chaise sofa next to the door, I lay the gifts down and headed toward the bathroom. Thankfully, there was a robe on a coat rack near the opening. I slipped it on and moved quickly for the door again. I didn’t want to get busted creeping to the tree.

  This place was grand. There was lighting at the bottom of the walls, near the floor, keeping the area from being pitch dark. It also added a warm glow to the place. Never in my life did I ever imagine staying in a huge house like this, much less sleeping in it. I was able to find my way to the main staircase and carry the boxes without tripping and falling down, like in the movies.

  When I crossed the shiny marble foyer, I heard slow music and smelled burning wood. The lights from the tree could be seen as I approached the living room, and the music became clearer. Was Ashton back? Was he putting gifts under the tree while I slept?

  I made it to the opening of the lush living room and saw the fireplace going. After taking a few steps inside, I made out a small body on one of the sofas. It was the man I’d seen around here a couple of times, sitting with his legs crossed in dress shoes and an oversized robe. Next to him was a rolling tray topped with some fancy alcohol, a glass, and a plate of cheese, crackers, and fruit. I didn’t know what to do, not wanting to interrupt his privacy. So, I took a step back to leave.

  “Please don’t go, dear heart,” I detected an accent, but it was neither southern nor northern. “Come. Put the gifts under the tree. The more, the better around here.” It was naturally male, but curlily feminine—and maternal. “Please.”

  Me, being the punk human I was, obeyed. With shaky hands, I crossed the gigantic room decorated in better Christmas ornaments than the house in Home Alone, and put the wrapped boxes under the tree. When I stood, I glanced his way.

  “The wrapping paper is lovely, dear. Did you do it yourself?” I shook my head. “Well, it’s still beautiful. Are they for Sir Spencer?” I nodded. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” His smile communicated longing, but not in a perverted way. He patted the cushion next to him. “You can’t be over twenty-one, so I can’t offer you scotch,
but I can invite you to this majestic view. Please. Join me.”

  My first thought was Ashton. He didn’t like this weird human. But then I remembered, I wasn’t like Ashton. I was no member of his mean crew. I could, at least, give the weird human a chance to prove he was unlikeable.

  My feet moved before I had fully decided, and it was too late. Before I knew it, I was seated on the opposite end of the couch to the little man.

  “Tori. Right?”

  I blinked hard and swallowed before licking my lips. “Yeah.” Then I thought. “Jerry?”

  “James.” He nodded with a smile. “Porter. James Porter, but I found myself going by the name Jimmy.”

  “Oh.” Right! Ashton did mention his name since we’d been here. “Jimmy. I’m sorry.”

  “No need to be.” He pulled a box of cigarettes from the tray, then plucked a lighter from inside of his big robe. “Your friend, Ashton, didn’t exactly introduce us properly. So, I wouldn’t expect you to remember. I hope you don’t mind.” He referred to his smoking. I shook my head, not feeling I could object if it would have offended me. He lit the cigarette and took a long and hard pull. Then he exhaled deeply, letting it out, making the act look relieving. It made me relax just a bit. “It’s his place, you know.” Jimmy’s eyes were above the fireplace, on the mantle.

  I did.

  “You live here.” I had no idea what I was saying, but it had hit me in that moment how much Jimmy resembled James Baldwin—like a lot—widow’s peak and all. “You’re here more than him. It’s yours, too.”

  Taking another pull, he shook his head. “No. It’s all Ashton’s. I’m just the innkeeper.”

  That pushed a hard laugh from my belly I couldn’t control. I tried covering my mouth.

  “Ahhhhh…” His face brightened. “So she does have personality.”

  “Yeah, I do.” My facial expression was mixed with humor, shock, and light offense. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…” He reached for his glass of scotch. “I’m actually conversing with someone from Sir Spencer’s world.”

  I winced. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  Jimmy’s wide eyes met me as he froze with his glass in the air. The white of his eyeballs were yellowish and pupils dark. “You can’t stay the night in his home, sleep in his bed, and come with gifts without at least being a friend.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not.” Being Ashton’s friend would make me a part of his BSU crew, and I wanted no parts of them.

  “Then tell me, dear heart.” He sat back and took a sip of his drink. “What are you?”

  Those dark eyes inside puffy lids captivated me. He waited for an answer.

  “I don’t know.” My eyes fell. “We’re both athletes.”

  “And lovers,” he observed out loud.

  My heart banged on my chest walls. “He’s got a girlfriend.”

  “Named Aivery.” Jimmy didn’t skip a beat. “A little heifer he never asked me to arrange for a private flight to bring home. And he’s never made such a big deal about her visiting.” His eyes swept the room.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, dear.” He let out a pillow of smoke. “We’ve not done Christmastime décor in here since…” He blinked, eyes toward the ceiling. “I believe since Robert was still around and Sir Ashton was maybe…twelve.” My eyes head jerked. “Well, we’ve put up trees, but that was the extent of it. No lights, no proper dinner, no fanfare about the holiday at all. This is why I ask, who are you?”

  Why would Ashton do all of that? It couldn’t have been for me. Was this James guy turning out to be an unlikeable human after all? But he seemed to know a lot about Ashton, my favorite topic as of late. Jimmy seemed to be a talker, too.

  And he called Aivery a heifer…

  I pulled my feet from the slippers and curled my legs underneath me. “If I told you I was twenty-two like Ashton, would you give me a drink or make me go upstairs for my ID?”

  I had no idea what I was doing. I only knew I was no longer sleepy, and James here seemed bored or entertained, and that intrigued me.

  He squinted his eyes playfully, though I believed him at first. Then he reached over for the tray. “I’ll be collecting that ID in the morning once my judgment has returned.”

  That made me laugh. “Who is this singing?”

  Jimmy’s eyes danced around. “Why, that is Mr. Vandross singing the lovely “Every Year, Every Christmas,” dear heart. The balladeer of balladeers. I challenge you to tell me of a voice bearing the slightest resemblance to his.”

  My face balled tight. “He sounds just like my friend, Ragee.” He honestly did.

  Jimmy handed me the glass. It only had a few drops of light brown liquid in it, but I didn’t care. I was no drinker. I’d take what I could get.

  “Young lady, you’re shitting me.” His delivery was curvy, but tone calm and confident. “If this young man is lucky, he can mimic some of Mr. Vandross’ range, but never his gift. Your claim is absurd.” His head leaned to the side, slowly, and the brows on his beetle-like face hiked as though begging. “Promise me you’ll never repeat such blasphemy again. I’d hate for your precious spirit to be thwarted.”

  I couldn’t help my smile as I inhaled and shook my head. Raj could sing his ass off. He could do that better than he could box, and Ragee McKinnon got busy with one-twos. To further bite my tongue, I took a sip of the scotch. The shit burnt my damn soul. I coughed up a burp and my eyes watered.

  “You okay, dear heart?” Jimmy sounded alarmed. “I would pat your back uselessly like mothers do children, but I take it you sat so far away for a reason.”

  I managed my index in the air. “I’m fine,” coughed up seconds later. When I was able to breathe again, I examined the glass in my hand. “I’ve never had this before.”

  “It’s for adults. You, dear heart, are no adult.” He plucked his cigarette in his mouth and sighed, hand going dramatically to his chest. “This is gonna pucker your asshole. Please don’t tell me your mother’s going to be banging down my door in a few days!”

  As though not being able to breathe wasn’t hard enough, I collapsed into the sofa, laughing hard as hell. “No.”

  “Good.” He took a sip of his drink. “I’m an old queen. Too damn old to be fighting.”

  “What’s he singing about?” I asked about the song. It seemed sad.

  Jimmy plucked growing ashes into a tray and let out a deep breath. “About a love a fool’ll never see again. A hope he’ll never have again.” He inhaled quietly, eyes to the large, rectangular rug covering most of the dark hardwood floor. “And a magic he’ll never forget.”

  All the humor from moments ago disappeared. “So, you’re Ashton’s….stepdad?”

  “Ahhhh…” He nodded, then took another smoke and let it out. “So he, at least, told you that?”

  “I guess I figured it. So, you two were married?”

  “Yup, although it wasn’t acknowledged much of anywhere legally. We knew it. We exchanged vows for forever. And our forever ended before we imagined.”

  Jimmy bobbed his head to a new song that had just begun. It sounded like the same guy, and even sadder.

  “Who’s this?”

  Jimmy’s chin dipped. “Mr. Vandross again.” He turned to me with a sad smile. “Superstar.” I listened as he enjoyed it. “You know I met him?”

  “This guy singing?”

  He nodded, pulling in more nicotine. He let it out toward the ceiling. “In 1985 when I hosted a juke joint, which was a club set up for dancing and live entertainment. It was the last of its kind when those types of establishments made an impact on the community. Mr. Vandross came in with his people, just to check it out. Well, honey, before long, I had the man on stage, belting, “If Only for One Night.”” Jimmy’s eyes closed as his little hand clipping the cigarette stretched across his chest. “Mmmm! His cords brought me to tears.”

  “Wow,” I murmured, braving another sip. Sounds like Raj, for real. The burn was jus
t as intense on my tongue and going down my throat. “He was that good.”

  “The best, hunny. And almost psychic.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The week before, a young, tall handsome man swept through the club. He had this magic about him I couldn’t resist.” He began swaying his shoulders, beetle eyes squinted. “Full of confident masculinity, worldly charm, and…dishonesty. The motherfucker was arrogant down to his Italian shoes. And he came in with a full suit and sexy eggplant tie.” Jimmy plucked at his nails.

  My mind started working in overdrive. Warm Christmas decorations, sad love song playlist, a tray of food for a small party, two glasses, and one lonely man.

  I took a small sip, ignoring the loosening of my guard as the liquid burned on the way down, and licked my lips. “Robert?” I remembered his name from when Jimmy mentioned the last time they’d done Christmas here.

  Jimmy didn’t move from his stuck position, eyes to the floor as he whispered, “The one and only.”

  I knew it. Experiencing his sadness was as real as hearing these songs.

  “What you did at the club: what’s a host?”

  “A host is when you do everything from top to bottom,” Jimmy answered right away and with loud attitude. “The owner, an Irishman who lived in Scotch Plains, didn’t think the club would last past a year when he hired me. Shit, was he wrong. Me, along with a few of the bartenders and a piano guy, rallied the streets of Newark for the best dancers, singers, and biggest slangers to come in for a night. Thank our lucky stars, they loved it and kept coming. The owner still didn’t believe and had lost interest by then, but still came in to collect the proceeds. Child, I cleaned, ran the numbers, hired and fired, greeted people coming and going, and everything in between.”