Show and Tell

by Niobia Bryant

  “Whoa,” Cameron calls out.

  I feel his hands—those hands—grab my waist to steady me. As soon as I get my bearings I shift away from his touch and press my back to the wall of the elevator. “What the hell is going on?” I ask as I look over at him.

  “I think we’re stuck,” he says dryly before he pushes several buttons and then opens a small door on the elevator panel.

  “No shit, Sherlock.” I straight mean-mug his ass as he picks up the phone behind that door in the panel and puts it to his ear.

  “It’s dead. I hope there wasn’t a power outage—”

  “Or some crazy 9/11 type of shit,” I tell him as my heart beats like a motherfucker in fear.

  He looks over at me with a troubled expression before he loosens his silk tie and undoes the top button. “I’m sure it’s nothing that serious,” he says, sounding like he doesn’t much believe that shit himself.

  We both reach in our briefcases. I pull out my cell phone. He pulls out his BlackBerry.

  We both smile a little at the coincidence before looking away.

  “I forgot I don’t have a signal in the elevators.” I snap that useless motherfucker closed and drop it back into my briefcase.

  I’m not claustrophobic or nothing but being stuck in an elevator is mad crazy and I want this foolishness to end.

  “Damn.”

  I look over just as Cameron drops his BlackBerry back into his briefcase. “No signal either,” he tells me as he removes his jacket and steps over near me to bend and spread it on the floor of the elevator. “Go ahead and sit. We might as well get comfortable.”

  He holds out his hand to me and it might as well been a damn snake the way I look at it. What will it feel like to him, I wonder, just before I slip my hand onto his.

  Pure electricity. Heat. Desire. Yearning.

  Just like I thought.

  Our eyes meet.

  I feel like everything on me—including the fine hair on my body—is sweating. And I know he feels it too. I can tell it from the look in his eyes.

  I hurry to use his hand for support so that I can break the hold he has on me. As I settle on the hard ass floor, I watch as he lowers his body to the floor too and presses his back to the wall opposite me.

  “So . . . how’s married life treating you?” I ask him with the fakest damn smile ever.

  “Don’t,” he said shortly, bending his legs to sit his elbows on his knees.

  “What? Is it all too sacred to discuss?” I straighten my legs in front of me and pull my skirt down over my legs.

  He says nothing and just reaches for his briefcase to take out a file and one of his Mont Blanc pens.

  That he obviously is ignoring me bothers me. “I guess I should thank you for the transfer because I’m liking the finance department a lot.”

  He jots down something in the file before he cuts his eyes up to look over at me. “Better than mergers and acquisitions?”

  “Yes.”

  He smiles and shakes his head. “Liar.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Cameron lifts his head and I’m looking at his handsome face. His deep set eyes and square jaw. His lips. His chin. His high cheekbones. Damn, this motherfucker is fine. “Mergers and acquisitions is about the hunt and the kill. The chase. Aggression. Finance is just a means to all of that. You, Monica Winters, are all about the chase. You go after what you want and you don’t sit back and wait for it to come to you.”

  “True,” I admit. “But I also hate to lose and no one can guarantee that everything you want will be yours.”

  Cameron’s eyes shift away from mine.

  Damn right, I’m not talking about business anymore.

  “When all that bullshit went down with Dom and Rah you would drive straight from New York every night and just chill with me in my room. Bring me food. Rent me movies. Just talk to me.” Emotions rose in me. “You did anything you could do to help me forget that my ass was stuck in a bed with my leg shattered in two or that one of my best friends betrayed me. I don’t think I ever said thank you for that . . . for being a really good friend.”

  “I liked hanging out with you. Being around you made me feel like I was a teenager again without a care in the world.” He smiles kinda bashfully. “No worries about business expectations or bills or none of that stuff. I just was a guy enjoying hanging out with a girl.”

  I reach over with my foot to tap it against his. “Yeah, hanging out with you was fun. It was different. No clubs. No weed. No Henny. No label dropping. No flodging. No drama. Just the realness. Just a girl hanging out with a boy and having fun.”

  We get real quiet . . . but in a good way. That reminiscing on good times kinda way.

  “It’s been a year but I feel like a different person. Things I thought were so important seem silly.”

  Cameron nods. “It’s called growing up.”

  I bit my bottom lip as I kick off my shoes to free my toes. “Feels like I still have a lot of growing up to do.”

  “You’re in your early twenties. Trust me just reaching twenty-five will be a big deal and your thirties will make you feel like you know everything. You’ll see everything different.”

  As I wiggle my toes, I look at him with soft eyes. “Like maybe if I was older and more mature I woulda realized just how much I loved you before it was too late.”

  Cameron’s eyes are so intense as he looks at me like he can see my soul. It makes me breathless as hell. My heart skips so crazily. My entire body shivers from that look.

  “I never knew you loved me. I didn’t want to own up that I loved you, Cameron,” I admit to him softly as nothing but that undeniable chemistry stirs between us.

  When he still doesn’t say a word, I throw my hands up. “Listen after what happened at the church I promised I wouldn’t do this with you again. I’m so sick of putting my heart out to you and then you just—”

  Suddenly his lips are on mine. And his arms are wrapped around me. And his body is pressing mine to the floor. I moan from deep in my soul at the feel of his tongue stroking mine as his dick hardens against my belly and his hips grind into mine. I just feel the sweetest damn pleasure at having the man I love in my arms. Tears fill my eyes and my heart is open wide. “I love you, Cameron. I love you so much,” I whisper against his mouth as he leans his head up to look down at me.

  He nods slowly before he touches his lips down on my chin and admits, “I love you, too. I do. My marriage is a mess because I love you. And deep down I think she knows it, too.”

  Cameron gives me one more kiss that feels like it’s the last one ever before he rolls off my body and climbs to his feet. He lets out this deep ass breath before he slams his fist against the wall of the elevator. “I fucked up, Monica. I fucked up.”

  It hurts like a motherfucker to hear that torture, that regret, in his voice.

  “I care for my wife. I do. But you can only love one person at a time and I try to deny it but deep down I knew you were the one I love. I shouldn’t have married her. I shouldn’t hurt her . . . or you.” He turns and looks down at me. “I fucked up. I thought I was over you. I really thought I could make this marriage with Serena work. This drama. This bullshit. This triangle shit ain’t me. I fucked up.”

  I get up on my feet and walk over to press my hands to his face. “Cameron, what are you going to do about it?” I ask him softly. I’m happy that he still loves me but I’m sad because he seems to regret it.

  The elevator jolts and the lights on the panel flicker as it begins to move downward. We move apart to gather our things and straighten our clothes.

  “What are you going to do, Cameron?” I ask him again just before the elevator eases to a stop and the doors open.

  “Cameron!”

  We both look up at his wife, Serena, standing in the front of a crowd of people in the lobby. She makes a slight face at seeing me in the elevator with Cameron before she throws on a smile and steps forward
to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him in a way that is nothing but some bullshit ass show for me.

  Cameron pulls back from the kiss with a small shift of his eyes towards me. We all step off the elevator as the maintenance man steps on.

  “I came to surprise you with dinner in your office,” she says.

  “I was on my way home,” he tells her.

  “Then let’s go home,” she tells him.

  I stop by the massive security desk and watch them leave arm in arm. Just before they walk out the automatic doors, Cameron turns and gives me one last look.

  “Are you okay, ma’am?” the elderly security guard asks me.

  I watch through the glass as Serena and Cameron walk away together. They look so happily-ever-after together. “No. No, I’m not okay,” I answer him with the God’s honest truth.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Dom

  May 15

  So much to fuckin’ write, not enough pages to write it on. Kimani: I still haven’t told her about her new granddaddy or her auntie Hiasha. I still had to deal with that shit myself. Maybe once I got used to knowin’ that the last twenty-two years of my life has been a big-ass lie then I can accept his offer to come into my life. I just thank God he givin’ me time to get my mind right. I ain’t ready for more sisters and brothers, cousins, and aunts and shit. Not now. Corey says I should feel blessed to have this huge family that is waitin’ just to meet me. He says I should know that I’m special. And that’s what I love about him—and yes I love him even though I ain’t admitted that to his jokey, big dick self. Our sex is mad crazy and wild and all that good shit but so is our conversation. He makes me think about things I ain’t ever paid attention to and he asks me questions and listens to me. Bein’ around that nigga makes me feel grown up and shit. And I like it. When I have to work hard at my two damn jobs he makes sure the time we gots together is always special. And although I don’t ask for no money if I come up short, his ass is right there to help me out. I love him because he loves me just for me. No questions. No bullshits. No drama. No changes. I never thought my ass would fall in love again after Lex died but just livin’ life has a way of changin’ what you do and think and say. So yes, I love that motherfucker but no one knows that but me, myself, and this diary which damn sure ain’t telling shit. Ha-ha.

  The doc says he wants me to invite Diane’s crazy ass in for a session. Although I know that crazy bitch need therapy like a motherfucker I just don’t know if I ever want her in my life again. Look at the way she treated me and the way she act like pinpointin’ the wrong motherfucker to be my daddy ain’t no big shit. For me to keep my ass off the next dope corner I got to stay clear of Diane and her bullshit. Fuck that. Stayin’ clean so that I can raise my daughter is more important than that bullshit ’bout rebuildin’ broken relationships. Just thinkin’ ’bout that shit makes me mad as hell. It makes me want to fight my own mother. Man, fuck Diane!!!!!!!!

  Girl Talk

  Alizé, Moët, and Dom all cornered Mohammed as soon as he walked out of the storeroom in the basement. He jumped back a bit to find them all standing there waiting for him with their arms crossed over their chests.

  “Hello ladies,” he told them in that infectious Jamaican lilt as he shifted to the right to move past them.

  The ladies all shifted to the right with him.

  He rolled his clear white eyes to the ceiling as he leant against the push broom he held in his hands. “If this is about your friend again then don’t bother. I done made up my mind. To hell with R. Kelly ’cause a woman ain’t the only one who gets fed up.”

  “Mohammed, I thought your Bob Marley–lookin’ ass said you believe it now that Cristal and Sahad ain’t fuckin’ around,” Dom snapped with just a little bit of annoyance.

  Mohammed cut his eyes at her. “Look here, your girl want more than I got to offer her. Hell, why you three blind mice care so much when she left your asses hangin’ in the damn wind too?”

  “Because we love her.”

  “Yeah, well I hate to sound cliché but my love shoulda kept her ass home more.” He eyed each lady directly before he walked off with his dreads swinging slightly against his back.

  “I should have told him that you always have to fight for the ones you love,” Moët said.

  “Or that love means being able to forgive even if you don’t forget,” Alizé added.

  Dom reached over and squeezed Alizé’s elbow. “True.”

  Moët thought of her love for her child and her whole soul felt warm.

  Alizé’s heart swelled with love and then ached with regret for Cameron.

  Dom smiled a little as she thought of her Corey. “Well, I learned lately that love is a damn good thing.”

  Part Four

  “It Ain’t Over ’Til It’s Over”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Moët

  This is the biggest mistake I ever made. Okay, not the biggest, but it is up on the Top 10 list.

  As if he can sense my frustration, Taquan reaches over to grab my hand under the dining room table. I look over and give him a wink and a smile.

  “I just don’t understand, Latoya, if you’ve read those things in those papers about that that . . . rapper. How can you trust your child with him?”

  My grip tightens around Taquan’s hand and he winces a little. “Daddy, I don’t believe those things in the paper. I never thought Bones would hurt Tiffany.”

  My mother spoons mashed red potatoes onto her plate before passing it to my youngest sister Latrece. “How can you be sure?”

  “His mother lives with him and helps out with the baby.”

  As soon as my mother eyes me I know I have stuck my foot in my mouth. My moms has been begging me to let Tiffany stay overnight. My answer has always been no.

  When I admitted to my parents that I lied about the rape and that I was sexually involved with our minister since I was sixteen, I didn’t know what to expect. Their anger and immediate condemnation of me hurt like crazy. They put their love of religion above me and it hurt like hell. It wasn’t until that devil Reverend DeMark was arrested for sleeping with a sixteen-year-old from their church that they even spoke to me.

  And they have yet to say they were sorry.

  Even though I go through the motions, a part of me hasn’t gotten over that. A girl never forgets her father damn near calling her a whore to her face.

  I began to shake my leg as my anger rises again.

  I know my parents wouldn’t hurt her physically but my childhood was rough. Restrictive. Reclusive. It was all about church until I felt like it strangled me. So I rebelled . . . in my own way. I lived a double life to find the freedom I needed so that their faith wasn’t such a noose around my neck. I rebelled right into situations I had no business being in.

  I just don’t want them to make Tiffany feel the way I did growing up.

  “Taquan, I’d like a little chat with you if we’re all done with dinner,” my father says before he drops his napkin onto his plate and rises from his chair.

  It’s Taquan’s turn to squeeze my hand.

  He’s the first man I ever brought home to meet my parents. My folks never met the father of their only grandchild. He was another of my secrets from last year.

  I didn’t want the same for Taquan. I’m proud that he’s my man. He’s good to me and he loves Tiffany just as if she’s his own.

  I wonder if he loves me too.

  My brows draw together a bit. Do I love Taquan?

  I watch him as he follows my father into the living room. He turns to smile at me over his strong and broad shoulders. My heart skips several beats.

  He helps keep me locked to my faith. He is so easy to talk with about anything . . . everything. He makes me better, stronger, calmer. We have such amazing chemistry and even more amazing “sex” (well, our non-penetrating version of sex). I miss him when he’s not near me and I am happier than Reverend DeMark peeping through a hole in the wall of a girls’ locker
room when we’re together.

  My daughter’s soft cries from her portable bassinet in the living room causes me to head that way as my mother and sisters began to clear the table.

  “She’s always a little cranky when she wakes up,” I hear Taquan say. I pause before I reach the living room and watch as both he and my father bend over the bassinet. “Latoya always just rubs her back a little and she goes back to sleep.”

  My mouth drops open a little as my father reaches down to rub his grandchild’s small back. “It’s funny, but Latoya was the same way as a baby except we would pat her back and she would go right back to sleep,” my father says. “I used to just lay with her across my chest and just pat that back for her. Her mama said I was spoiling her.”

  The men share a soft laugh together while I am surprised. I can’t imagine my father giving out any affection far less spoiling me.

  “She was a beautiful baby girl and while I was doing all that spoiling I thought of just the speech I would give any little boy, or teenager, or man that came by to visit.”

  I watch as my father and my man look at each other with their bodies still bent over my daughter’s bassinet.

  “Neither I nor her mother nor God created her to be any man’s plaything. She was created to be the best she can be and not the best you want her to be. She was created to grow and spread her wings and not her legs. She is special to me and she is rare because she is my child. Respect that. Respect her. And respect me when I tell you that you don’t want me to lose my religion.”

  Taquan nods and clears his throat. “Good speech.”

  My dad nods his head as he looks at Taquan with clear intent. “I think so.”

  For the first time in a long damn time I feel like my father loves me.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven