Careful What You Click For

by Mary B. Morrison

  Terrence suctioned in his lip.

  “What? Is there something wrong?” she asked.

  He shook his head, then said, “You asked me a question. Followed by an interruption that was an assumption. I was going to say you have to promise never to throw anything I share with you in my face. That’s my biggest pet peeve with women.”

  Well, her pussy instantly lost interest. Hopefully, she wouldn’t do the same. “Fair enough. Same here,” Jordan said.

  “Goes without saying,” Terrence replied.

  Jordan firmly stated, “That’s not true.”

  “Forget it. I’m not telling you.” Terrence pushed away from her as though he were an angry adolescent. “I’ve seen how this story ends with professional black females in Atlanta.”

  He was not convincing her that she was the problem because she interjected, “If you’re not feeling this, say so. Don’t attack me.”

  The sound of a puff of air escaped his nostrils and entered hers. Terrence stood, extended his hand. He escorted her to the entrance. “Get on the elevator. Go downstairs. And decide. If you come back up, we’ll start over. If you don’t, leave me like the rest and have a great life.”

  Offended or impressed? On her way down Jordan thought, Terrence Russell could be amazing or he could be a total psycho asshole.

  One thing was certain. She’d never know.

  As she stepped off of the elevator, the unexpected commanded her attention. The guy was tall, fit, and handsome.

  He smiled.

  She grinned.

  “Wow. You are stunning,” he complimented.

  And you are fuckable, she thought.

  “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said, extending his hand. “My name is Langston Derby.”

  “I’m Jackson. I mean Jordan. Jordan Jackson.” No man had made her breathless in years, including Donovan and certainly not Terrence.

  “Care to join me for dinner?” he asked. “I just closed up my shop next door. I hate eating alone.”

  “I’d love to,” Jordan said, stepping back onto the elevator.

  CHAPTER 26

  Victoria

  “Not right there,” Victoria advised the delivery guy. “Six inches to the left. Pick it up. No dragging.”

  Morning had progressed to noon. Victoria was excited to get her project under way. Since she was a perfectionist, anything out of order would become a distraction and cause her plan to fail.

  “Ma’am. We’ve shuffled your extremely heavy furniture back and forth, and from one side of the room to the other, for the last four hours,” the delivery guy complained, holding his fingers. Massaging his hands, he said, “Respectfully. Can you please make up your mind?”

  “Or we can come back tomorrow,” the other worker suggested. “We have six more customers to serve today. At this rate we won’t get off until midnight.”

  And they’d do as she said for another four hours, if necessary. Victoria didn’t blink as she stared at them. She’d paid for white-glove service and that was exactly what she was going to receive.

  “Scratch it and you’ll have to take it back and deliver a new one,” she stated.

  The third guy mumbled, “That might not be a bad idea. Let somebody else deal with her.”

  “I heard that. Do not try me, young man.” Victoria stared at the man. “One mark and I’ll specifically request each of you come back tomorrow with a new one or be terminated for insubordination.”

  They each frowned at Victoria, then shook their head in unison.

  Her inheritance depended upon the perfect positioning of her new counter-height voodoo altar. The black-stained beech wood weighed seven hundred pounds. Among the three of them, lifting what appeared to be their collective body weight shouldn’t be difficult.

  “You all should thank me. You can skip going to the gym today. One inch toward me, gentlemen,” she commanded, then cheered, “Perfect! Thank You, Lord Jesus!”

  “Goddamn,” guy one said. “You’re hard to please, lady.”

  “That’s it. The customer is always right,” guy number two added, handing Victoria a pen. “Sign here, ma’am.”

  Guy three commented, “Good day, Ms. Fox.”

  Posting up in front of the altar, the three men lingered. She knew exactly what they wanted. And the truth was, they deserved a generous tip. Victoria opened the box that was in the corner. She proceeded to pull out her voodoo dolls, then meticulously placed them on the altar.

  “Are you serious?” one of the guys asked. He didn’t take a single step toward the front door.

  Victoria slid her hand into a single front pocket on her mustard-colored maxidress. She pulled out three $50 bills and handed one to each of the workers. “Thanks, guys, you can leave through the side door. Don’t discard any rubbish on my property. Take all of the packaging with you.”

  One delivery person said, “I’m out,” then left immediately. The other two followed pursuit.

  Good riddance, she thought, following them outside. Victoria stood in the driveway and watched the moving truck exit her security gate. She waited until the gate completely closed, then hurried inside.

  Eager to set up what she knew would make Tracy Benjamin want to crawl under a manhole and stay in the sewer, Victoria was distracted by an incoming call. Removing the phone from her pocket, Victoria answered with a smile. “Hey, Heavenly. Baby, can we reschedule?” she asked. “I have to view a few residentials before they go on the market.”

  “Awesome. Can I go with you?” Heavenly asked, sounding like a kid. “I’d love to learn about real estate investing.”

  Hmm. Heavenly was a great student in the bedroom, fun and, thus far, loyal to her commands. A “yes” would educate and elevate that young black man while increasing his bottom line. A “no” meant she’d have to finance their roller-coaster ride until it stopped. Dependents often became stalkers. Better for a man to have his own so he could move on. Victoria did like this one, though.

  She placed seven black candles on the altar next to a two-ounce bottle of root oil, loose cowrie shells, real chicken feet, feathers, a beak, and several small onyx energy stones. Victoria gently placed the black mortar and pestle in the center of the ingredients.

  A text registered from Willy: I have to cancel our standing. My daughter is taking me to dinner.

  “You can meet me. Under one condition,” she told Heavenly.

  “What’s that?” he replied.

  “You agree to attend my church this Sunday.” Victoria had a few ways to get Willy and Tracy’s attention without speaking a word.

  An early preheat of her body’s temperature threatened an escape of perspiration.

  “I’d love to,” Heavenly said. “Text me the time and location where to meet.”

  “Will do. And rain check on accompanying me to the properties. Something came up. I have to go,” she told Heavenly, ending their call.

  Victoria went to the kitchen, filled a glass with ice, pressed it against her wrist, then returned to the room.

  She’d focus on a potion for Heavenly and Willy later. It was time to create a scent for Tracy that would stink worse than a skunk’s spray every time Tracy opened her mouth.

  CHAPTER 27

  Kingston

  Desperate times sparked Kingston’s best creativity.

  The third Airbnb Mama-T had reserved on his behalf would be the last. Since Theodore stated he had blocked him, Kingston was having sex at the new location with as many men as he wanted, and he was no longer risking anyone seeing him coming out of the basement on Cheshire Bridge Road.

  Touring a residential property that was on a private road surrounded by tall trees, with no close neighbors, and far away from the main intersection, Kingston hugged Lilly.

  “This is perfect,” he complimented. “Buy it. All cash. In your name only.”

  Lilly was the prettiest Puerto Rican he’d ever met. Kingston was certain her long, curly hair, with golden highlights, her well-defined hourglass waistlin
e, flat stomach, and rotund derrière drove men insane. But none of that excited him. Not even her seductive Spanish accent.

  “You’re going to have to give me emergency contact information. In case something happens to you back here in these woods. Especially since my name is the only one that will appear on the title,” she said emphatically.

  “Lock in Monet and her mom, Trinity,” Kingston said, sharing their cell numbers. “Thanks for agreeing to be my straw buyer. We’ll sell the property soon as I move my family to Atlanta.” Kingston roamed the empty house, imagining he could live there with Theodore.

  The little boy locked in the janitor’s closet cries for help. Counting to fifty might turn into fifty years of hiding his sexuality. If I could sit at a table with Langston Derby, sharing a bottle of aged cognac, what would I say?

  Lilly gently touched his arm. “Are you okay? You seem a bit out of it.”

  A single tear escaped his right eye. Struggling to hold it all together, Kingston had to tell someone. Mama-T held general secrets, but that wasn’t the same as confiding in someone with details.

  He asked Lilly, “Can I trust you?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Holding his hands, Lilly sat on the floor, then folded her legs. Not letting go, she stared up at him, then replied, “It’s just the two of us here. I will never share anything that you say is confidential. That’s my job and I’m great at it.”

  Kingston sat facing Lilly. He folded his legs, too, then asked, “How can I tell for sure if I am gay? I’ve never been anally penetrated. But I enjoy the company of men.”

  “How much?” she questioned.

  “A lot. Theodore Ramsey loves me. But sometimes I get angry at him and with myself because I’m not that way,” he explained.

  “A man seldom treats his wife the way he expects another man to treat his daughter.” Lilly squeezed his fingers. “You have two girls. I have one. How would you feel if Israel or Nairobi were married to a man like you?”

  Whoa. Kingston nodded, but didn’t respond.

  Lilly released her hands. “Personally, I’d want to kick his ass if he did that shit to mine. Not because he was gay or bisexual, but because he was a fucking liar and a cheater of the worst kind.”

  “Let’s close this transaction and forget we ever had this conversation.” Hopefully, Lilly wouldn’t make him regret opening up to her. Mentioning Theodore by name was intentional, in case there was ever a physical altercation.

  “No problem.” Lilly stood. “I’ll notify the selling agent in a few minutes of my all-cash offer of the asking price. I’ll notify you when it’s done. Whenever you’re ready to change the title into your name, let me know.”

  Escorting Lilly to her BMW, Kingston wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll say a prayer for you at church this morning.”

  Lilly let out a cute laugh. “Do that. If you need me for anything else, let me know,” she said, closing her car door.

  * * *

  Kingston drove to a nearby café, sat at a table in the corner with his back to the wall, and surfed the VirginsSeekingVirgins app.

  “What would you like?” the waiter asked.

  After ordering a light breakfast, he saw several titillating prospects.

  The waiter placed a piping-hot cup of black coffee and a raspberry-and-cream-cheese pastry in front of Kingston. Enjoying a bite of his croissant, Kingston read several more profiles. All with features, measurements, hobbies. None of them had body pics of abs, dick, or ass, like BottomsUp.

  A text registered from Theodore, Where are you?

  Kingston ignored it. Continued scanning and sipping coffee.

  If you don’t respond, I’ll show up and call you out at your church this morning.

  Theodore’s second message warranted a response. Maybe that’s what I need.

  Bravery about his sexuality wasn’t what Kingston wanted to confront. If Theodore did it, Kingston knew his sins weren’t worse than Pastor Baloney’s and the first lady’s. The entire congregation accepted their humanness.

  Church didn’t start for another three hours. They were ushering the late service. Contemplating whether he should drive to Cheshire Bridge Road and connect with a stranger, or invite Theodore or Levi over to the Airbnb, Kingston kept scrolling. He’d promised himself no more basement sexcapades, but he couldn’t lie. There was something about the griminess of fucking without knowing a man’s name or number.

  Texting Checked into a new Airbnb. I’ll text you my address later should comfort Theodore and keep him away from Hope for All Church today.

  His new soon-to-be residence was tranquil. From toothpaste to towels, furniture to sheets, dishes, forks, paintings, rugs, and more, Lilly would hire Cassandra Guy to decorate each room beautifully. All Kingston had to add was his wardrobe.

  Company, not companionship, was what Kingston desired this morning. He texted Levi the address of his current rental, then added, Come over now.

  Moments later, Levi replied, omw.

  Swiping one last time, Kingston’s croissant slipped from his fingers. “No fucking way.”

  Kingston stared at the in-box note: Interested in getting together?

  The user’s name: Derby69.

  CHAPTER 28

  Monet

  “Bye, Mom.” Israel got out of the car. She strolled up to a group of her friends that were waiting for her inside the gate.

  “Love you, Mom!” Nairobi held her cell, tossed her new backpack over one shoulder, closed the rear passenger door, and ran to the schoolyard, yelling, “Look, y’all!”

  Assuring that the girls were safe within the surveillance of the security guard, Monet drove away. Cruising along the B-W Parkway, she started to text Bianca, but changed her mind and decided to call. Continuously complaining to her girlfriend about Kingston had made Bianca dislike him more.

  Monet commanded Siri, “Call my best friend.”

  “Calling your best friend, mobile,” the Australian male voice replied.

  “Hey, girl. I was just getting ready to call you. Are you ready for that tall cup of black coffee this morning?” she asked with excitement. Bianca’s single life on the outside definitely appeared to be funtastic.

  “A little coffee in the morning never hurts,” Monet answered.

  “That’s the right attitude. I’m glad you let me set you up. I have all of his information. Remember, it’s just an icebreaker to prepare you to get back on the dating scene, if necessary. Call me soon as you leave the—”

  Cutting Bianca off, Monet said, “I gotta go. That’s my mom calling, which reminds me to turn off my tracking.”

  Ending one call and accepting the other, Monet answered, “Good morning.”

  Trinity replied, “Is everything okay?”

  Monet cleared her throat. Her pitch was slightly higher than usual. “Yeah, why?”

  “You sound . . . uncomfortable. What is it?” her mother questioned.

  Dang. Two words and her mom had drawn that conclusion. “I’m headed to my first acting class,” Monet lied. “I signed up online this morning.”

  “So if I went to your house, logged on to your computer, and checked your cookies, I would find”—she paused, then added—“the link and your application?”

  Knowing her mother, Monet was sure Trinity was going to investigate the situation. And she’d find the registration link. But by the time she left her home, went to Monet’s, found out where the one-hour introductory class was supposed to be, the session would be over.

  Traffic was light on the highway. Monet exited two miles north of where she lived, then parked in a grocery store parking lot. Before arriving at her final destination, she turned off all locations.

  “Monet, what just happened? You stopped at the grocery store, now I can’t see exactly where you are,” her mom frantically said, then asked, “Are you in a bad location? Is there something wrong with your phone? Check your bars.”

  “No, Mom, I’m not in a bad area. Soon as I get to class, I’ll check my phone
and make sure my locations are working.”

  “Text me the address of the class, Monet. Right now,” her mother insisted.

  “Okay. Will do. Gotta go.” Monet lowered her visor, checked her hair and makeup.

  Post Monet’s confession of having gone to Atlanta without her mother’s knowledge, her mom was trying to track her every move.

  “Monet?” her mother blurted. “What do you have on?”

  Eight o’clock in the morning was rather early for her to be wearing red Everlasting matte lipstick and a snug snakeskin jumpsuit, but Monet didn’t care. If she were heading to the class, she’d definitely be the focus of everyone’s attention.

  “Bye, Mother.”

  “Listen to me,” Trinity commanded. “Just because Kingston is acting inappropriately does not mean that you should carelessly venture into new things on a whim.”

  Inappropriately!? That is an understatement. “I have the right to live my life the way I want to.”

  “I know you’re wearing your wedding ring, diamond jewelry, an expensive watch, and designer everything else. Pull over, take off your valuables, and secure them in your trunk with your purse. You do not know those people. And nowadays you cannot trust anyone.”

  Monet sarcastically asked, “Where’s my husband?”

  “Fine, do whatever you want,” her mother said, sounding annoyed.

  “No disrespect, but I’m no longer waiting for you to decide when you’re available to help with the girls. Nor am I sitting around waiting for Kingston to find his way back home. I’m a grown woman, and from this day forward, I’m acting. And I’m hiring a live-in nanny, a maid, a tutor, and a chef.”

  Trinity gasped.

  Monet’s decision was not debatable. Trinity was being standoffish since Kingston had left again. Monet ended the call with her mom, then drove to the café situated on the northeast side of Columbia, to meet the online date Bianca had arranged for her.

  * * *

  Entering the café, immediately he stood gesturing for her to come over. Her stroll toward him was so sinful; she was certain it wouldn’t get her into the pearly gates of Heaven. Approaching her destination, Monet had already undressed him with her eyes.