by Tiana Laveen
“Ms. McCall, you’re right.” The woman held her head high. “I have concerns, but my son has good judgment. He also learns from his mistakes, and rarely repeats them. He married a woman who was not a bad person; in fact, she had a stellar reputation. She was an attorney, very well regarded, but she wasn’t good for my son. She wanted to change him, reinvent him, to make him someone he’s not, and that, I find reprehensible.” Her voice trembled. “Phoenix is a difficult person, but he loves hard, in his own special way. He needs room to be himself, and you are the one to give him that. He loves you, so I’ll love you, too. That’s just all there is to it.” She patted her thighs. “We all make mistakes in life, some bigger than others. If the good Lord can give second chances, so can I.” Leaning over, the woman kissed Tiffany on the cheek.
Tiffany blinked back tears, refusing to make a scene.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hale. I promise I put my old life behind me. I don’t even want it anymore. I have other plans, and they are already in motion.”
The woman nodded. “As long as you keep your nose clean and you’re good to my boy, you’ll have nothing but my full support. And if you feel so inclined, I wouldn’t mind Phoenix giving me a grandchild, someone else I can spoil rotten.” Tiffany wrapped her arms around the lady. She felt so warm, so soft, and smelled like flowers and home-grown comfort.
Returning the embrace, Mrs. Hale whispered, “The past is in the past, honey, and we’ve all got one…”
The Glass Garden inside the Chapel of Flowers was all aglow. The previous morning, he and Tiffany had made haste to get their license and everything was set. Though they only invited forty-eight guests, it was plenty for him—just their close friends and family. He waited for her to come down the aisle while dressed in a black Brioni suit and blood red tie to match Tiffany’s color combination of a China red wedding gown with a black sash at the waist. Denise William’s, ‘Black Butterfly’ began to play, and his bride appeared, her wings spread in all their glory.
The caterpillar had turned into the most gorgeous creature.
With a headdress of black and red roses and a garnet jewel hanging on her forehead, she looked unique and show stopping. The outfit fit her perfectly. Five of her girlfriends, whom she had as bridesmaids, preceded her, all wearing short black dresses with red sashes. Tiffany’s mother grinned wide, as her father marched her down the aisle. Their joy filling the room—her mother sat up front patting her eyes dry. He glanced at his mom and sister-in-law, who sat shoulder to shoulder alongside Rick and many others. His brother was his best man, and right there at his side. The minister entered the room and stood before them.
They exchanged vows, and things went smoothly. A pair of photographers moved about, snapping shots here and there.
“With this ring, I thee wed…” He slid the gold and diamond wedding band down her finger until it came flush with the engagement ring he’d purchased for her just hours before. He always envisioned something a bit more organized, but Tiffany didn’t seem to mind; she loved that four carat radiant cut diamond ring. Tiffany slid an 18k white gold Channing diamond wedding band down his finger—a bit fancier than he would have ever wanted, but he knew how the woman was about jewelry, so he’d expected her to select nothing less than top quality on his behalf.
“You may now kiss your bride.” He crushed her lips in a kiss as cheers and confetti filled the chapel space. When she slid her tongue in his mouth, he drew her into a passionate ring of fire as their desire and love for one another merged. Finally, she slowly pulled away, leaving him lonely, and looked into his eyes.
“You have no idea what you signed up for.” He chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her close. “I hope you’re ready for me.”
Running her fingers through his hair, she cocked her head to the side and said, “I’m not afraid of dragons. In fact, I fly right into their flames…”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Tiffany tilted her gray fedora hat with a touch of her gloved hand. Sitting inside Bavette’s Bar and Boeuf on Kenzie Street, one of her favorite stops in all of Chicago, she’d just enjoyed a mixed greens and apple salad with a pint. This had to be her own little farewell party to herself, for she was moving to D.C. She’d decided to maintain her music store from afar but to also open a new one on 800th Street in Washington, among art galleries, posh eateries, and the like.
Phoenix was knee deep in some covert assignment he’d barely whispered a word about, and she let him be. When the man disappeared from time to time, she knew the drill and accepted it as such—someone was getting iced. On a sigh, she looked about the place, then polished off the last of her beer.
She grabbed her small carry-on bag and headed out the door. As she stood outside the restaurant, she called an Uber to take her to the airport. It was time to go home.
As she stood there, people watching, feeling nostalgic, sad, and optimistic, her phone rang and drew her away from her thoughts. She glanced at the number, smiled, and answered.
“She got hold to some bad shit, they say,” came the gruff voice.
“Awww, what a pity,” She leaned against the building, one heeled black leather boot against the wall. “Send my regards.”
“Yeah … I’ll do that. You out this bitch, huh? Movin’ to D.C.?” Turbo asked.
“Yeah, this is my last hurrah. Had to take care of some loose ends. So, I snipped them. I prefer to leave my shit precise.”
“Snip and dip like a mothafuckin’ haircut. Peace.”
She disconnected the call. Soon, her ride appeared and she slid inside, taking note of the driver, a man who looked a bit like her father.
“I’m going to O’Hara.”
“Yes, Ma’am, I know.” The man smiled in the rear-view window, then pulled away from the curb. Resting her head against the back seat, she closed her eyes, imagining what Cora looked like at that moment…
Perhaps she was dazed confused, frightened, or maybe all of the above. She’d wished to let bygones be bygones, but the woman had overstepped her bounds, broken code, and she was a disgrace to the definition of honor and blood ties. After allowing strangers, drug addicts and all sorts of riffraff into her home to destroy it and turn it into a crack house, the woman had stolen her jewelry and pawned it for a nice bit of change. To add insult to injury, Cora had tried to destroy her in court with a ridiculous testimony, making up things when the truth would’ve sufficed. Tiffany had made a mental note to teach her cousin a lesson…
Had Cora not been a mother to two small children, she would’ve ordered her killed, and besides, she’d vowed to turn over a new leaf. She was getting into baking bread and watching soap operas with her mother-in-law, for God’s sake, and she still had to talk with a probation officer every week; she couldn’t afford to lose her temper, to ruin this new beginning on account of a loose-mouthed, greedy crackhead with the mental capacity of a dying cricket. So, she’d allowed nature to take its course. She’d cut off the money supply and now, the woman was going to another guy, not her usual dealer, trying to save an extra buck or two after she’d smoked all of her stolen money away with wild parties and extravagant purchases. She’d enjoyed enough of the fruits of other people’s labor.
Desperate, the woman had returned to the bottom of her crack-laden barrel. Tiffany’s plan was rather simple, actually—to let her get the subgrade, bullshit crack, the kind that made your insides sizzle and hurt you deep to your core. That stuff was only one step above pure baking soda—total trash. She’d left it in Cora’s mailbox, giftwrapped like it was Christmas morning. No name, just a big white dream and a glorious scheme. Just like clockwork, the woman had smoked it and ended up in the hospital with injuries to her lungs and chest, which may never heal. She was down for the count indefinitely…
Snapping her gloves and stretching her legs, Tiffany sighed and caught her reflection in the car window.
Look how pretty my smile is. Genuine and broad. I’m not from the hood, but the hood is in me. I’ve cha
nged, but Tiffany ‘Black Butterfly’ is still my mothafuckin’ name. I now wear the last name Hale, and I wear that shit well. Gotta man who can eat my pussy right, fuck the shit out of my coochie all night, and get me out on bail…
She laughed silently, throwing her head back as she secretly delighted in it all.
Goodbye, Chicago. I’ll see you around…
It had been a long time coming but it was finally happening…
Phoenix shook Titus’ hand, to seal the deal on PNC, the Partnership for Narcotic Control, a special organization he founded to help ensure that DEA agents, the FBI, the CIA, and the government worked together in more effective and cohesive ways. When he walked out of his office to head home, he was elated, floating on cloud nine. For the first time in a long time, things were working out well and he was receiving the cooperation he desperately needed.
He checked the time and noted that he was running late for the special dinner date he’d planned for Tiffany. His wife was working hard, and he couldn’t have been prouder of her. She’d be opening her new music store in the next few months. She’d already interviewed a number of music teachers to teach classes, and the small stage area was almost completely renovated and ready for performances. Pulling up to the long driveway leading to his home, he put in the code to open the gates, and drove inside.
He checked the security cameras through his phone, pleased to see she hadn’t made it home just yet. The next few minutes passed in a blur as he ensured that his chef had left the things he wanted, the wine was chilled, and he looked presentable. After taking a hot shower, he’d slipped into black pajama pants, slippers, and a long smoking jacket. Running his hands through his mane, he checked for any wayward hairs, then splashed on some aftershave and cologne. Back in the kitchen, he lit some red candles and dimmed the lights. As he checked a few emails on his phone, he heard the familiar ring of the security alarm letting him know someone had entered the front door. Metallica and Zeppelin barked in the distance. They’d been placed in their own room for the evening. He looked up, wearing a smile, waiting for her to enter.
“Phoenix! I have great news!” she called out. “I found the perfect—” She paused in midsentence. He could hear her high heels clicking against the wooden floor, undoubtedly taking note of the red and black rose petals spread along the place. “Oh, my goodness…” Grinning, he placed his phone down on the kitchen counter, crossed his arms over his chest, and let her come in.
“What’s this all about?” Her smile couldn’t have been any wider. How beautiful she looked with her thick hair hanging down her back over a black mock turtle neck. Tight dark blue jeans and 4’ inch black heels completed the outfit.
“I felt like you needed a little downtime. We both do as we’ve been rather busy. We’re newlyweds, so we should be enjoying one another more.” He rose from his seat, took her hand, and led her into the dining room, delighting in her sudden gasp when they entered the space. Fresh roses sat in a vase on the table, adorning their individual place settings. Full glasses of red wine awaited them, and Duke Ellington played from an old jukebox he’d purchased from an antique shop.
“This is incredible … oh, my God,” She placed her hands over her mouth, covering her luscious lips. “This is … I can’t even find the right words!”
“Come on baby, have a seat.” Pulling out her chair, he poured her a glass of water to go along with her beef tenderloin in merlot sauce with shallots, as well as a thin cut of veal. He rounded the table and took a seat, then raised his glass in the air for a toast.
“To us … the Hales.”
“To us!” She took a sip, placed her napkin over her lap, and dug in. He spent more time staring at her, falling into pitfalls of lust, than eating the perfectly prepared meal. He couldn’t help himself. He was in deep with the woman, so madly in love that at times he felt as if caught in a dream. She was speaking of exciting things she’d discovered around the city, after filling him in on the latest bargain she’d run across for flooring and window treatments for her new shop. Tiffany was talking quite a bit, more so than usual, but he didn’t mind; her excitement was catching. When she’d just about finished her food, he sauntered over to the jukebox and turned it off, then picked up a guitar he’d placed in a corner. He sat with it on a chair beside her. Tiffany sat back and crossed her legs, a proud smile on her face.
He started to strum the thing, ensuring everything sounded as it should. And then, he began…
“Morning light, silken dream take flight
As the darkness gives way to the dawn
You’ve survived, now your moment has arrived
And your dream has finally been born
Black Butterfly, sail across the waters
Tell your sons and daughters what the struggle brings
Black Butterfly, set the skies on fire
Rise up even higher so the ageless winds of time can catch your wings…”
When he looked into her eyes, tears streamed down her silky skin, and she trembled. What an emotional, lovely mess. He kept on playing until the end of the song. After he was finished, he got to his feet and set the guitar against the corner again.
“I looked up the music for the song and memorized the lyrics. It definitely fits your personality. I love the song possibly almost as much as you now; it’s beautiful, just like you.”
“I don’t even know what to say. Phoenix, damn! I love you!” Jumping to her feet, she brought him close and pressed her lips hard against his. Raking her hands through his hair, she held on as he picked her up and placed her on an empty silver platter on the buffet table. He lowered her zipper, then worked her jeans down and off until they fell to the floor. Allowing his smoking jacket to fall open, he shoved his pajama pants down to his hips, exposing a raging hard on. She steadied herself, waiting with sweet lust in her eyes. Gripping her hips, he tugged her body towards him and shoved his face between her legs, lapping and sucking on her slick garden, making her coo in his grasp.
“Put the pussy on a platter…” he said between nibbles and kisses on her nature. “It’s so good, baby. That’s where it belongs.” He thrust his tongue in and out of her, while she rocked her hips against his mouth.
“Shit!” She came hard, shaking against him, pouring into his mouth like a fountain. “Give me that dick!” she said breathlessly, scratching at his body, intensity in her eyes. Wiggling off the platter until she was on her feet, she dropped to her knees and deep throated his cock, making his eyes roll back as she worked the length down her throat in a matter of seconds. “Your dick tastes so good … big, thick ass dick! I love it!” Grabbing the back of her head, he thrust in fast, short spurts inside her mouth.
“I want to dive headfirst in that pussy!” Removing himself from her mouth, he placed her back on the platter, gripped her waist, and entered her with a deep and hard thrust. The buffet table rocked; the glasses on it threatened to tumble off and break as he plunged into her deep, wet depths. They screamed each other’s names, both lost in sensations.
“Don’t stop!” She grinded her body against him, matching his rhythm. Shoving her shirt up, he plucked her left breast from the lacy bra cup and engulfed the nipple into his mouth. The taut, fleshy bud felt so smooth against the tip of his tongue. Delicate hands held his neck firmly as he explored the other breast. Glasses began to fall and crash to the floor, but he wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop…
They stared at one another, drowned in each other. His breath hitched, and then they came together, their orgasms intertwined. Groans and whispers filled the space as they collapsed against one another, and a rush of warmth surrounded him when she wrapped her soft thighs protectively around his waist.
He kept on cumming, delivering his milky gift within her walls. His head pressed against her breasts, he struggled to catch his breath. He didn’t have the strength to pull away from her, didn’t want the juiciness of her love to cease touching him, making him throb. After a few silent moments, he raised his head and looked
into her eyes.
“There’s dessert, too.” He smirked, then chuckled, though neither really gave a damn.
“We probably broke all the dishes it was supposed to be served on if they were inside of the buffet cabinet,” she teased.
“We can always eat it with our hands…” With a wink, he picked her up from the platter and carried her up the steps to their bedroom.
“Oh, you’re workin’ late tonight, huh?”
“Oh yeah.” He smiled. “This is definitely going to be an all-nighter…”
Tiffany had to admit it—her mother looked majestic standing in front of the White House in her white jacket and matching skirt. She was as giddy as she could be, able to tour freely due to her son-in-law giving them a special pass for security. He was behind closed doors for an important meeting. Dad couldn’t make it; he’d been battling a cold but urged Mama to come on out as planned. The woman looked pleased as punch to be able to see the green marble busts of President Lincoln and so much more, and she kept speaking about how beautiful the White House was, stating that the pictures she’d seen didn’t do it a bit of justice. She particularly loved the cherry blossom trees that surrounded the place.
The paintings of Ronald Regan, George Bush, and Bill Clinton hanging in gold frames reminded her of something Norman Rockwell would’ve created. Tiffany couldn’t help but relish her mama’s excitement. She’d felt the same way, too, during her first visit. They went from room to room, the White House library being one of her favorites. After the visit was complete, they made their way outside and headed down the steps. Mama paused, sighed, and took a breather, leaning against one of the columns.
“I didn’t know I was that damn tired.” She grinned. “We must’ve walked at least a couple of miles … worth every second.”
“Are you okay?”
