by C C Monroe
“I want to, so badly.”
“Then get your lady balls together and do it, Lana James.”
I smirk, thinking back to a few years ago when we had the reverse conversation. Sometimes a girl just needs her best friend through every ultimate fall.
The bar is buzzing with tons of people, the loud music booming against my chest, matching the rhythm of my anxious heart. I left Lana without so much as a glance, iced her out again after therapy, because I’m too stubborn, too weak, too damaged to let her back in.
We’re over. I ended it with her last night. Whether she knows that or not, I’m not sure. But I had to end it in order to survive it. Sure, Lana took a step today and went to therapy, but that could all be a temporary fix for the real issue. How do I know she won’t draw me back in and then stop going? I have to see it from her. I need to see her put in the effort herself—not just me, but for herself and our son. I can walk away from all this, that isn’t the problem. But Lana can’t walk away from herself, and I don’t want our son to have to make that choice.
Losing Lana and walking away may be something I will regret for the rest of my life, or it could ultimately save us. The risk of the gamble is a bet I have to make in order to live through this. I know without a doubt I’m crushing her under my thumb, breaking her heart in half, but nothing is fair in love and war. Worst part of all, though, is I admitted today that the road to wreckage we are on is slowly starting to make me fall out of love with her. How could that fucking happen? How could I stop loving her?
That is the question that has my heart rate skipping a few beats and my back and shoulders tight with tension as we sit in this downtown, swanky nightclub. The lights are low, the walls a gray color with red booths lining the wall and a wide-open dance floor between the seating area and the bar. It’s a little more upscale than what Trey and I usually do. We tend to like a large TV playing football and a beer on tap at the end of a bar. But I told him I wanted something loud and distracting to keep me doing anything but thinking of Lana.
My phone vibrates in my hand and I look down, seeing a Facebook messenger notification. I see Hilary’s name and I open it, knowing it’s probably in response to me kindly telling her I’m not interested. Trey disappeared into the crowd of sweaty club-goers to get us a drink, braving the storm of this place, so I occupy myself.
Hilary: I’m not surprised you’re with Lana. I always knew you wanted her. Still doesn’t change the fact that I miss you. I can always be the side option. Something to cleanse your palette when you get bored. ;D
I read the message over again, looking for any reason to not respond, and I don’t find one. I want attention; I fucking need it. I don’t plan to flirt, but I don’t shut her down bluntly like I normally would if I were with Lana.
Me: You haven’t changed a bit, I see. Still bold as ever. And I ain’t bored. Lana still gets me.
Hilary: You make me bold. Lol. What can I say? You have a way about you.
She swerves the Lana part like a parked cone in the road.
Me: Oh yeah, and what is that?
I can’t believe I’m entertaining this, but no one has any idea how it feels to be chased and wanted after years of chasing and wanting someone who pushes you away any chance they get.
Hilary: You’re perfect, Kings, handsome, smug...cocky (in every single way).
“Hey! What are you smiling at? Just seconds ago, you were all brooding and shit,” Trey announces himself, catching me off guard.
“Nothing, just messaging an old friend.” I look down one more time at the message and debate a response, but I decide I don’t want to egg her on. The cocky joke was a bit too much.
“Old friend we grew up with?”
I shake my head and lock my phone, sliding it into my jeans. “No one.” I take a sip of my beer and cringe, the shit tasting fancy.
“Yeah, they didn’t have Corona, just some fancy new generation shit. But no, really, who?”
I gaze over at him, debating what to say. I told him Lana and I are over, so maybe he won’t think it’s a big deal that I’m talking to Hilary. Fuck, I haven’t cheated—can’t when you have no one to cheat on. That, and I haven’t even thought about fucking her once, nor would I ever want to. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever fuck again. My palette isn’t bored. Shit is fucking addicted to one exotic taste, and I will never be full. Nothing will ever taste as good as what Lana James did.
“Hilary,” I say coolly, waiting for his reaction. Maybe if I seem unfazed, he will too.
“Hilary? Your fucking ex, Hilary?”
“Yeah, she found me on Facebook.” I shrug, not caring in the slightest that she misses me, because I don’t miss her. The truth is, I’m hurt and pissed off, and I just want someone to fucking need me.
“No, fuck off, Kings. Don’t do that shit just because you’re mad.” He gives me his stern eyes, his jaw tight and his mouth in a hard line.
“I don’t have any intentions to hook up with her. I’m just talking,” I defend myself.
“Bullshit, you’re pissed, all while fucking missing your girl. Don’t go pissing in another person’s yard just to numb it all.” He takes a swig of his fancy fucking drink and I shake my head.
“I don’t want her. What is the harm in talking to her?”
“That! That in itself is harm, bro. Have you met Lana? Joel cheated, a lot, even with Hilary! You want that shit on top of everything else you two have going on?”
Fuck, he has a point. I forgot Joel fucked Hilary after I dropped her ass.
“We aren’t together. I told her last night I was done. And besides, I don’t fucking want Hilary.”
“Then the fuck you talking to her for? Huh?” he yells, and luckily the music is loud and the drunk club-goers are selfishly lost in booze and hormones.
“I don’t know! Fuck, Trey! I don’t know.” I lower my voice, dropping my head and rubbing my eyes. I’m fucking exhausted right now. “Do you know what it’s like to both love and resent the mother of your child? Your best friend?” I ask, turning my head and dropping my hands to my lap in defeat.
“No, I don’t,” He huffs, shaking his head.
“You and Shayla had your issues, but you didn’t touch the fucking surface of what Lana and I have to face. Okay? You don’t get it. Fuck, I don’t get it!”
“Calm down, man. Breathe.” Trey attempts to get me to calm down, but my rage has already taken over. The loud music isn’t helping, and I feel I’m about to drive my fist through a wall or any fucking guy in the club.
“I need to get out of this shithole.” Sliding out of my side of the booth, I make a hasty retreat toward the exit. Over it. Fucking done with this.
“Kings! Fuck, wait up, man!” Trey yells after me as I walk down the busy Friday night streets of downtown Seattle. Drunk girls whine and scream obnoxiously while horny, desperate men do anything to get a taste of them. I ignore it all and keep walking. Trey finally catches up to me and keeps a steady pace.
“You’re right. Shayla and I are different and we were able to work on our shit. I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”
“I regret it all!” I scream, catching attention of other pedestrians, causing them to take an extra few steps around us in order to avoid my wide, muscular, angry body. “I regret being open to love when I swore I never would. I’m miserable here, Trey, and the only thing I want to do—God, the only thing I want to do...” I throw my hands up then place them back down on my hips and stare up into the night sky. I lower my voice, trying to calm myself. “The only thing I want to do is talk to my best friend, but she’s not there anymore. I don’t know where she is.”
“Man...” He trails off, looking to the right of him and shaking his head.
“When Shayla is no longer your best friend, when she is someone who can no longer love you, let me know how you feel then.”
I see him physically shake with even the thought of losing my sister that way. He felt it, felt the
pain in his chest. I can tell when his hand reaches up just above his heart to grab it.
“I never want to know.”
I nod, knowing I proved my point. If hell had a night out with its buddies, this would be it. Getting out tonight was in hopes of leaving Lana’s and my tumultuous relationship behind for a few hours, but instead, all it did was resurface harder than before and make me even more confused on what the fuck I need to do.
“Home, go home. You need to be with Lana and Prince. Together or not, you’re on edge. And shit, now I want to get home to Shayla,” He admits.
I don’t blame him. He’s a lucky son of a bitch to have Shay.
“Yeah.” With that, we grab a taxi and drive back to his place in silence. Once there, I get in my car and drive the two blocks home. Walking in the door, I hear perfect silence. It’s just after midnight and every light in the house is off. Setting down my keys, I remove my shoes, hearing my phone in my pocket. I remove it and see another message from Hilary is waiting.
Hilary: Where’d you go?
Me: I’m home with my woman. Not interested, Hilary. Sorry I even said anything to you at all. Don’t message me again.
I spare no feelings at all this time. Trey was right and I need to cut that shit now. My head is pounding, my back is tight, and I can’t seem to relax. I leave my phone next to my keys and make my way up the stairs to our bedroom. I peak my head in Prince’s door on the way to our bedroom and smile at his tiny little form, peaceful and carefree. My shoulders begin to relax and I finally take a deep breath.
Walking into the bedroom, I expect to see Lana asleep, but I’m surprised when she’s sitting on the couch we have in our room, in front of the fireplace. The fire is going, and she’s wrapped in my clothes and a throw blanket while she watches the fire crackle.
My presence alerts her.
“Hey.” Her soft, raspy voice clings to me.
“Hey, why you still up?” I ask, stepping farther into the room, making my way toward her.
“I wanted to make sure you got home safe, and Shayla just left.” She smiles with the last bit. As I stop abruptly, she shyly gets up, nervously tucking hair behind her ear. “You’re home sooner than I expected. Is everything okay?” she asks, standing to her full height, her body tiny as I stay still, eyeing her over.
“Yeah, it was a bust. This past week has been rough and I just wanted to come home and sleep. What did you and Shayla do tonight?” I finally break my trance and move toward the bathroom, removing my jacket and shirt as I go.
“Just talked and had some girl time.”
I peer up and watch her through the mirror. Her head is down as she picks at the white comforter of our bed.
“That’s good. How was Monkey? Did he crash early?” I bring the toothbrush to my teeth while waiting for her response.
She nods. “Yeah, he fell asleep shortly after you left. He only woke up once, to eat, just a bit ago. He latched.”
I brush my teeth fast then remove my jeans, throwing them in the hamper. “That’s good, yeah? How did it feel?”
She smiles, this one reaching her eyes. “Amazing, made me feel like a mama.”
“You are a mama, Lana. No matter what,” I reassure her as I ditch my briefs and walk in the closet to grab some sweats. Her breath hitches, and my cock twitches knowing she wants me.
“Yeah, I know.” Lana’s voice is shaky as she tries to stay collected. “Hey, Kings?”
Pulling back the comforter, I climb in. “Yeah?”
“Are we really over?”
“Lana...yeah, we are.” I don’t hesitate or lie. We have to separate any romantic feelings until she really commits to getting better. It’s as simple as that.
“What are we going to do about Prince and living together then?” She drops her chin, looking down at her knees, which she has pulled up to her chest.
“I don’t know. We obviously need to make a decision, because it’s not safe for us to be this close.”
“What does that mean?” She adjusts herself, tightening her grip in an attempt to comfort herself.
“Lana, you know us. You know our pattern. You and I are incapable of being around each other without falling into another routine.”
She sniffs, and I see her tears before she tilts her head down and her hair tumbles to hide her face from me.
“You said today you are falling out of love with me. Is...is there...” She stops, starting to cry, and I want to comfort her, but I just can’t. We’re alone, vulnerable and in bed—a deadly combination. “Is there still a little of me somewhere in your heart?”
I shake my head, choosing my words wisely. If I say too much, it will invite her back in, but if I say too little, she will spend the night broken. I may be standing my ground, but I’m not a total prick. “Lana, I will always love you, but if we stay together, at the rate we’re going, I won’t be able to stay in love with you.”
“I don’t blame you. I don’t,” She admits, letting her legs go and climbing under the covers. Her response isn’t what I expected. I was convinced she was going to snap. She scoots to the very edge of the bed, putting distance between us and turning her back to me. “Goodnight, Kingston.”
My mouth unhinges and I try to say something, but nothing comes out. Did she really not argue? Did she not try and guilt me? I reach over and turn off the lamp.
I cough through the thick cloud of emotion in my throat, “Night, Lana.”
The room grows quiet like the night, and I lie there listening to the sounds of her crying, my heart aching to make it right.
Two Weeks Later
“Dad, hey, what’s up?” Picking up the phone, I answer my dad’s third call this week. Ever since he found out I have been staying with Shay and Trey, just to get some distance from Lana, he has been on me. Constantly worried I’m gonna lose it. Trust me—I want to, because I feel like a walking zombie, pushing through the motions every day, not really living, more so just existing.
“What are you up to today?” His deep voice comes through the line as I pay for my coffee at the café just down the street from the studio.
“Um, I just finished up an early morning session with Ben, and now I’m headed to therapy. Why, Dad?” I call him out, pointing out his hovering.
“Is Lana going?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t talk to her this week, except for when she drops Prince off.” Lana went to the last two sessions, but it’s been bare minimum effort on her part. She hasn’t, however, put up as much of a fight when she lets me have Prince for a few hours a day, which has been nice. Still, I hate not being able to just spend any time with my son when I’m not working. The reality that this is slowly becoming our life has sunk in, and it’s pitiful.
“Son, please, work this out,” He huffs, sounding like me when I feel defeated. Dad says this to me each time we speak on the phone. He doesn’t get it. He isn’t in our home everyday. He sees the façade Lana puts on, the face she wears around others. It’s not that easy.
“Dad, I gotta go. I’m already cutting it close to the appointment. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Please stop worrying.” I step onto the street and make the small journey two blocks down to the therapist.
“I can’t, son. It’s easier said than done. One day, with Prince, you’ll understand.”
“I know and I love you, Dad, but I gotta go.” I dodge his words.
“I love you too. Talk to you later, bud.” Hanging up the quick one-minute conversation, I put my phone in my pocket, ignoring the tenth private message from Hilary today. After that night, I realized how wrong I had been to even entertain her, and I haven’t spoken to her since.
Riding the elevator up, I take a few sips of my coffee and watch the electronic numbers light up above the door. With a ding, the door slides open and I see the backside of the sexiest woman alive. Tiny, subtle, womanly curves covered in skinny blue jeans, along with a black, silky, loose tank top and shoulder-length curly hair. I sip my coffee to keep from biting my
lip. Lana hears my arrival and turns to face me. She did her makeup today, looking a little more like the old Lana.
“Hey, you came,” I acknowledge. She smirks, nodding without a reply. “Were you waiting to go into the suite?”
“Yeah, I didn’t want to go alone.” This floor is made up of smaller offices, ranging from a law firm to a therapy office; it’s like a strip mall of businesses inside.
“Let’s go.”
Walking in, Dr. Moore’s secretary greets us and lets us know she’ll be ready in ten minutes. Taking a seat on the light pink couch sitting against a gray wall, much like the one in Dr. Moore’s office, we wait.
“What kind of coffee did you get?” she questions, gesturing toward my cup.
“Black coffee with two sugars and whole milk,” I reply with a small smile.
“Can I have a sip? I have a killer migraine. Caffeine might help.”
“Of course.” I hand her the drink and watch it reach her lips. I’ve never wanted to be a damn drink more than I do right now. What I wouldn’t give to feel Lana’s lips against mine again.
“You not getting sleep?” I ask, noting the bags under her eyes. Even though she put makeup on, I still see the faint signs of dark circles.
“Not really. I’ve been hearing things around the house, and it has me extra paranoid. You know me.” She tries to chuckle it off with a lift of her tiny shoulders, but it does the opposite for me.
“Lana, why didn’t you call me? If you’re hearing noises, you need to call me or the police.”
“It’s probably raccoons or something. It’s the suburbs and we live right on the edge of a heavily wooded area.”
“I know, but you know I don’t want you feeling alone or uneasy.”
“I have felt that way since the day you left,” She admits, dropping her eyes and handing me back the coffee. I feel like a complete dick. I know we both miss each other, the yearning to come home and stake claim again vehement, but until I can fully trust she is going to open up, I can’t go home.
