by Renee Tyler
I knew one thing for sure. I was definitely horny and wanted to be satisfied by Troy. I couldn’t let it be that easy for him. If I let him come over, I’d cave and pounce on him as soon as he made it through the door. No, I’d allowed Shane to try and fix our relationship with sex. As weak and as painful as it was, I won’t allow that to happen this time, no matter how my body constantly craved him. I don’t think I can go to dinner. I’m unsure if I can control my hormones, even in a public place.
Shaking my head to his come over comment, I answer, “Troy. I’m not ready to go to dinner with you. You really hurt me. I know initially I wasn’t forthcoming. However, when I did, I laid it all out there and you didn’t speak to me for two months Then you show up at church out the blue. Then expect me to just come away with you. I don’t want to put it all on the line and you walk away again. I need to know you’re here.” He spreads his nose and thins his lips. I know he wants to protest, but I’m not bending. I’m attempting to keep control as long as I can. Troy has the power to persuade me to do anything, and before I enter into the Troy fog, I need to set some rules and boundaries.
“Okay Little girl, I don’t know what you’re trying to prove. I won’t make it romantic, just dinner and bowling Saturday. I’ll text you the address.” I shake my head.
“I can’t this Saturday. I have plans already with Charity and Marcus.” He lets off an exaggerated breath.
“Sunday then?”
I hesitate for a moment. I really missed him. He’s sitting in front of the camera looking all sexy, tie loosened, first few buttons of his shirt undone, beard cut low, hair perfectly lined, and that bottom lip. However, I cannot be derailed. I have to stand my ground so he’ll truly understand how I felt. If I easily cave, he won’t understand how it felt for him to walk out of my life, then decide to walk back in when it suited him. I shake my head.
“I’m not ready.”
He lets out an exaggerated breath. However, he doesn’t seem as if he’s going to continue to push it at this moment. That pleases me. It shows that he respects how I’m feeling. He isn’t dismissing the way that I feel. This is why I care so deeply for this man, because he cares so deeply for me. Even though I see it all in his face that he wants to immediately pick up where we left off, he’s backing off because of my feelings. He tilts his head to the side, giving me a questioning glance. However, he doesn’t say anything. I know I’m probably looking at him like a love-struck teenager. I’m even grateful for him not mentioning that.
When he concedes, we fall into our natural flow of conversation. He tells me about what he’s been up to on the business end. He hasn’t asked me if I’m still married or not. I assume he’s holding off on that conversation until we’re face to face.
I’ve been officially divorced for a couple of weeks. Shane called wanting to know how I was able to end our marriage without his signature. He really thought he could hold it up if he didn’t sign, or if he didn’t show in court, figuring I wouldn’t be able to dissolve our marriage without his signature. Mr. Barish had done his thing, and I’ll be forever grateful for him. I sent him a beautiful wine and cheese basket in addition to a little extra added on to his fees.
Shane says that the divorce is only going to make him work harder at proving that he and I are meant to be, but whatever—he can work as hard as he wants. I’ve purged myself of that toxic relationship. I’m slowly removing myself from his life. I’ve asked Chucky, Dorian, and his mom to quit calling me. So far, they’ve respected my wishes. I haven’t heard from Shane in about a week, which I’ve been happy about. I’m starting to quit wondering if he’s okay, or if he’ll be okay. My focus is getting L’oriel together, and I’ve decided how I’d like to be treated as a woman. Shane possessed absolutely nothing that twenty-four-year-old L’oriel wants. Troy, on the other hand, does and that’s the only reason why I’m considering giving him a second chance.
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I was finally getting to meet Charity’s boo. She’d been secretive about who he is. The only thing I really know about him is he’s an athlete, and has a black card. She’s been tearing up the mall with that man’s card. We’re meeting him and his friends at a party downtown. I’m wearing a two-toned chocolate brown and yellow color-blocked high-waist mini skirt with gold beaded details, and a black, brown, and yellow star-designed cropped sweatshirt with a gold jeweled neckline. I’ve paired it with black and gold spiked platform peep toe booties, in addition to gold accessories. I flat ironed my hair into layered curls. My hair had grown since being in Atlanta; it’d grown from my shoulders to my bra strap.
When I was in Detroit, I had cut my hair in a short bob and gotten my navel pierced in my rebellion from Shane. He never wanted me to cut my hair. I had found out he had cheated on me, so I cut my hair in an attempt to re-invent myself and piss him off. That resulted in him berating me and giving me looks of disgust any time he saw me styling my hair, or wrapping it at night. I felt so bad I began growing it back out immediately. I actually prefer it long. I’d just cut it to piss him off.
I applied light make-up and went with a nude lip. When I left the house to meet up with Charity, I was feeling myself. Nicki, Beyoncé, and I sang about it all the way to Charity and Marcus’ apartment. Marcus had bailed on us because his boyfriend was feeling neglected, so they were going to dinner and a movie.
When I arrived at Charity and Marcus’ apartment, of course Charity wasn’t ready. Marcus opened the door for me.
“Oh look at you, looking all cute,” he squealed while I turned around and gave a fierce model walk into the living room, laughing as we entered the kitchen, where he poured me a glass of wine. “You may as well sit down and have a glass of wine, because her ass hasn’t even gotten in the shower yet. You know if I’m not on her, she takes forever to get ready.” I take a quick sip of Chardonnay that he poured.
“It’s cool. I’m early anyways.” I take a seat at the dining room table.
“So tell me about Troy. Did he call the other day?” he inquires as he takes a seat across from me. I told Marcus about Troy and I’s conversation, and that I wouldn’t agree to a date with him.
“I’m glad you finally talked to him but Laurie, why are you punishing him? I don’t think your actions towards him are justified.” I stared at him with confusion.
“What? Why do you say that? He left and didn’t speak to me for two months. He shouldn’t think that he can just come and go in my life. If he wants the relationship he’s telling me he wants, then he doesn’t get to take off on me and return as if everything is okay.”
“I understand that Laurie, I do. However, you withheld some big information from him. You let this man fall for you knowing you were still married. Then you were still communicating with Shane. How was he supposed to feel? He needed time to process that. You expected him to just accept the fact that you omitted detrimental information from him. Information that actually could have affected his business. Come on L’oriel, are you being reasonable? You’re punishing him for Shane’s wrongdoings. You haven’t been that hard on Shane, and he’s the one that really hurt you. You have to be woman enough to let him know he hurt your feelings. However, don’t punish him. You know you want to go out with him. So why are you punishing him? Or yourself, for that matter.”
I sat quietly to reflect on what Marcus said. It wasn’t my intention to punish Troy. I just don’t want to get into the same relationship that I was in before. I didn’t stand for anything and fell for everything. Troy is a very rich man who could have anyone that he wants. Shane was a boy that came from parents who’d had plenty. He could have had any woman or girl that he wanted just from that fact alone. I let him get away with so much because I felt that I was so lucky to be chosen. I considered myself lucky, so lucky that I allowed myself to be treated poorly. Who was going to want me? Who was going to take care of me? Well, I don’t want to make that same mistake. Now I’m taking care of myself financially and emotionally.
“I feel like I need t
o fit Troy into the part of my life that I need him in, which is to trust that he can give me companionship, and I don't want to feel that he’ll run out if I do something that he doesn’t like.”
“Troy doesn’t even seem like the type of man that would run just to run. Laurie honey, you have to open yourself up to seeing things from his point of view as well. I understand you put yourself out there. You feel like he left you out there on a limb. But honey, you can’t compartmentalize people. You can’t put people in these perfect little boxes. No relationship works that way. People aren’t perfect, and our reactions to some things may not always be ideal. However, when a person’s heart is good, you have to forgive and accept. I want you to think about that with Troy, as well as when you meet Charity’s friend tonight.”
“What does meeting Charity’s friend have to do with acceptance and compartmentalizing? However, I understand what you’re saying about Troy, and I’ll try and work on it.”
Before Marcus could answer my question about Charity, she finally emerged from her room looking beautiful wearing a short, long sleeved, black Emilio Pucci dress with a silver intarsia pattern at the bottom with silver, laser-cut metallic Christian Louboutin’s. She had her short hair styled with her sides and back in waves, and the top crown of her honey blonde hair longer with her signature large barrel curls. She’d definitely been making good use of her access to this man’s black card. She joined us in a glass of wine before she and I took off for the club.
The nightclub was huge. White leather couches lined on one side; ornamentally decorated white tables sat in front. Raised booths with white leather seating lined the other side. The position of the seating gave a 360-degree view of the centered dance floor. Bronze chandeliers with French pendants and facetted beads hung from the ceiling. The DJ booth was adorned with colorful fiber optic lights. Future’s “Move That Dope” blasted through the speakers as we made our way to the second floor VIP section. The area was filled with celebrities. My mouth fell open when Charity left my side to run up to hug and intimately kiss the very married Atlanta Hawks forward Calvin Callaway. Now it made sense why she was so secretive about who her new boo was. It’s widely known that he’s married to Latoya Callaway, who has a very successful hair extension line. Her exotic hair extension line is in magazines everywhere. Everyone who’s anyone boasts of wearing it online.
Being a wife that was cheated on, I’m sure Charity knew I’d feel some type of way about her having a relationship with this very married man. I’m so shocked at my friend. She saw the tears I cried at my husband’s betrayal. How could she carry on a relationship with a married man? There’s never an excuse good enough. Of course, the man has a ton of excuses as to why he’s having an outside relationship. They all add up to bullshit and lies.
I couldn’t hide the disdain in my face as Charity introduced us. I saw immediately that he picked it up, and he didn’t seem pleased about feeling judged. He furrowed his eyebrows as he extended his hand towards mine. I gave him a very limp handshake. I immediately turn towards Charity and begin communicating to her with my eyes.
“Baby. L’oriel said she had to go to the bathroom when we came in. I’m going to go with her and we’ll be right back.,” she says as stretches her neck to kiss him, and he bends so that she can reach his lips. I try not to, but I can’t help my lip turning up.
“Charity,” I scold once we reach the bathroom, and check to see if we’re the only ones there.
“I know what you’re thinking, Laurie. I’ll go into more detail later, but I don’t initially go after other people’s husbands. You know me. I just go after wallets. Please just don’t be mad at me. Please let’s just talk about it later, and try to enjoy the night. I told him so much about you. He was so excited to meet you. He’s already meet Marcus. He knows the two of you are the most important people in my life. I just want ya’ll to get along.” She looks at me, pleading for me to understand something that I just can’t relate to. I’m so mad at her right now that if Calvin’s wife comes in here, I’d probably take my time helping Charity if she decided to beat her ass. I know Charity loves clothes and money. I didn’t think she’d stoop so low as to date a married man to receive the lavish gifts she enjoys so much.
When her eye’s fill with tears pleading for my understanding, my anger turns to disappointment. When the tears fall, I’m hugging her telling her I love her no matter what. I mean that - Charity and Marcus have become very close to me in a short time. She’s like the sister I always wanted. She’s always understanding with me and isn’t jealous like my cousin Karen, who’s the only girl besides Tonya that I’ve been close to. Tonya was ten years my senior and though she’s a great friend, I wasn’t able to connect to her in the same way that I’ve connected to Charity and Marcus.
After I helped Charity fix her make-up, we wandered back into VIP where Calvin was pouring champagne flutes of Ace of Spades, and passing them out. He handed Charity then me a glass. He pulls Charity into him and kisses her on her neck, then walks her to the glass partition that affords the second floor VIP a view of the dance floor below. Seeing his interaction with her, I can see that he cares for my friend. However, I still couldn’t get over the uncomfortableness of knowing that he’s married. Several members of his entourage attempted to gain my attention and engage in conversation with me. However, I was too sober for my mood to loosen up. After downing my champagne, I know I’m going to need something stronger. I look over and see that Charity and Calvin are still hugged up, and he only has bottles of cognac and champagne. All the waitresses are busy with other VIPs, so I decide to make my way to the bar for a vodka-mixed concoction.
I look over to the bar that’s in VIP, then look at the bar downstairs. The one downstairs actually has fewer patrons, so I weave through the drones of people, ignoring the constant grabs at my elbow and the attempts to gain my attention. I only have one goal in mind. Get to the bar and get several cups of liquor into my system. When I finally make it to the bar, I momentarily wonder how badly it would look if I tried to walk back to VIP with three drinks in my hand. I decide against it and settle on ordering two glasses of coconut Cîroc with pineapple juice. When the bartender returns with my two drinks, I hear “Put that on my tab.” I turn to see Chris smiling down at me. Chris is the manager to the famous Grammy award-winning rapper Cedric. Cedric is on Troy’s label Boulevard Records. Chris has been trying to get me interested in him for months. I don’t know when Chris is going to get it through his head that I’m not impressed with money. I don’t know how he keeps up with my frozen coffee tab at the café at work, but he does. I haven’t had to pay for my iced coffee habit in months, thanks to Chris somehow starting a tab.
“Thanks, but I had it. Especially since I haven’t had to pay for an iced coffee or muffin in months,” I say, and immediately take a long sip of my drink. Nodding my head at the perfect mix of alcohol and pineapple juice, I place a tip in the bartenders’ glass. Chris looks at the two drinks I’m holding.
“You trying to turn up, huh beautiful?” I look up at the VIP section and see that Charity is still hugged up, so I decide to entertain Chris for a moment.
“What brings you here?” I ask. Ignoring his question, he points over to Cedric sitting in the VIP section across the dance floor. “We decided to stay with Boulevard so we’re toasting to our new contract. We almost went to another club, but I’m glad we came here,” he says while his eyes travel down from my breasts to my gold navel ring that matches my gold accessories. I shift uncomfortably because I don’t know why, but my nipples tighten under his stare. It must be the effects of alcohol because though Chris is attractive, I’ve never been attracted to him. “What brings you out?” he asks.
I didn’t know if I wanted him to know that Charity was here with a married man or not. I don’t know who he knows, or if their relationship was supposed to be a secret. See, this is why I don’t like this crap. I’m unaware of proper protocol when it comes to infidelity. However, the way that the two
of them are carrying on, it seems they didn’t care who notices them. His wife could walk in at any minute. To my knowledge, she lived in Atlanta. Also, photographers were everywhere; they could snap a picture that ends up on a blog. Deciding it must not be a big deal, I finally nod my head towards Charity.
“We’re hanging out with her friend.” Chris looks over to where Charity and Calvin are; they’ve finally come up for air. He nods his head and his eyes return to me. A slow smile spread across Chris’s face.
“So Ms. L’oriel, what do I have to do to get to know you better?” I take another long sip of my drink and slant my eyes.
“What kind of relationship do you want with me, Chris? Why do you want to get to know me better?” He licks his lips and takes a sip from the cup that holds his brown liquor.
“First, I want to get to know you as a friend and we’ll see where it goes from there.” I stare at him. I never paid much attention to Chris, but he’s definitely fine. He had milk chocolate skin, thick eyebrows, almond-shaped eyes, a strong angled jaw with a dimpled chin, and full seductive lips that sat below a perfectly manicured mustache. He wasn’t as tall as Troy, but he definitely was a good height. He wasn’t bulky, but he had a solid-medium build. The button down that he was wearing was hugging his chest just right. I look at the bottom of my cup wondering if he always looked this good, or if it was the alcohol. I furrow my brows at my now empty cup, turning to place it behind me on the bar. I turn back towards Chris and take a sip from my other drink. He studies me for a moment, then reaches over me to put his drink on the bar. His chest brushes against mine. The friction mixed with the smell of his cologne causes my nipples to tighten more. What in the hell is wrong with me? I shake my head, trying to shake off my hormones. Chris reaches into the front pocket of his dark washed jeans, pulls out his wallet, flips it open, and hands me a card.
