The Lessons We Learn (FWB Book 2)

by Alexandra Warren

  Shaq nodded, shoving a piece of the free bread into his mouth as my mom continued her interrogation. “So you’re really a chemist of sorts? You test the different chemical properties and all that?”

  “Nope. I just put them straight into my body. Better than testing them on innocent animals. Am I right?” Shaq said, Mila snorting out a laugh through her nose as I took a sip of water to cover mine while my mother’s face only turned more confused. And before I could break it down for her in layman’s terms - Shaq tested the different products from his weed supplier - a familiar presence joined us at the table.

  He was already pulling one of the extra chairs out next to my mother as he explained, “Sorry I’m late. My Uber got caught in traffic.”

  “Oh, hell no…” Jamila said before I could, too shocked to speak since Jason was the last person I expected to show up to this little dinner. But with my mother involved, I shouldn’t have been surprised that they had co-conspired a setup situation, especially once I saw her grab his face to kiss him on the cheek in greeting.

  “It’s okay, son. We’re just happy you made it.”

  That brought my voice back. “Who is this “we” you’re speaking for? Cause it damn sure doesn’t include me.”

  With a frown, my mother scolded, “Jayla Denise Anthony, you better watch your tone when you’re talking to me.”

  “You mean, Jayla Denise Mitchell?” I corrected, watching her eyes go wide like she was in a horror movie as I heard Shaq quietly repeat to himself, “Denise? She was always my favorite Huxtable. With her fine ass…”

  Jamila was a lot more vocal, smacking me on the arm as she asked, “You really changed your name back? Go ‘head, sissy! I ain’t mad at ya.”

  Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to really acknowledge her praise, too focused on my mother when she growled, “How disrespectful of you. It was a privilege for your husband to give you such a powerful name.”

  “Privilege? I thought that was only for white people?” Shaq whispered to Mila, earning himself an elbow to the arm as I stood up from the table and crossed mine.

  With my head cocked to the side, I asked, “Excuse me? My ex-husband, that trash ass human being sitting next to you, cheated on me more times than I can count on my own fingers. But having his last name was a privilege? You’re even crazier than I thought.”

  I was already snatching up my things to leave when my mother had the nerve to shout, “He’s a man, Jayla! They all make mistakes.”

  “Damn. Tough crowd,” was Shaq’s response as he found more bread to snack on while my lips twisted into a scowl. And since I refused to make a scene like she was, I leaned into the table, getting as close to her as I could when I responded, “See, that’s where you’re wrong, Colleen. Do men make mistakes? Sure. But what Jason did wasn’t a mistake. It was a choice. Multiple choices. So fuck him, and fuck you for ever taking his side in this.”

  “Boom. Mic drop,” Shaq added, my narrowed eyes shooting his way with a silent “shut up” that prompted him to put his hands up in defense. But the millisecond it took to do that was just long enough for my mother to gather herself, her tone exasperated when she joined me standing up and asked, “Where did I go wrong with you? How could you possibly be so… misguided?”

  I let out a laugh of disbelief. “Misguided? You think I’m misguided? Right now? After literally pushing me to perfection at every turn while also somehow acting like none of it meant shit without a ring on my finger? Now that I have more sense than to believe that bullshit, you think I’m misguided?”

  She was surprisingly silent, along with the rest of the table, allowing me to continue, “God forbid a woman successfully stands on her own until someone comes along who can do more than just keep her dripping in designer clothes. Someone who actually complements her lifestyle, someone who remembers how she likes her coffee, someone who makes her genuinely happy.”

  “And let me guess, you think you found someone to make you happy?” she asked with an unconvinced expression, one I had no problem meeting with a smile as I thought about my client who had slowly become one of the most important fixtures in my life.

  That smile only grew when I answered, “I did. And he’s amazing.”

  “That’s my cousin!” Shaq chimed in, making Jamila giggle as I gave a calming little chuckle of my own. But the one my mother contributed was completely sarcastic.

  “Ha. You have a lot to learn, girl. You may think he’s all amazing now, but just wait and see what happens the second you turn your back. I’m sure he’ll make my Jason look like a saint.”

  “You don’t even know him!” I defended, my anger growing back just that quickly; especially once I saw Jason basking in the protective bubble my mother kept around him.

  Naturally, I wanted to bust it the same way I had done when he showed up to my office a day ago. But instead of wasting any more energy on him, I kept my attention on my mother when she replied, “I don’t need to know him to know men. And believe me when I tell you, sweetie. They’re all the same.”

  A dozen responses came to mind, but none of them were worth giving to a woman who was so far gone. So instead, I tried that high road thing, throwing the towel in and bowing out as gracefully as I could, even with her commands to come back following me out of the restaurant.

  Her words weren’t the only thing following me, Jamila catching up to me the second my foot hit the pavement of the parking lot as she tossed an arm around my shoulder to say, “I love you, and I’m proud of you, and I wanna be just like you when I grow up.”

  “Why? So you can argue with mom in the middle of restaurants?” I asked with a sarcastic roll of my eyes, pausing for the cause once I realized I couldn’t remember where I parked.

  But I was glad I had stopped walking, able to hear Jamila clearly when she answered, “No. So I can recognize my worth and not accept anything less no matter what anybody thinks; mom included.”

  Hearing my little sister speak so proudly about what I considered an all-out shit show softened my stance, the fact that she was able to pull a valuable lesson out of utter chaos making it all feel a little more worth it. But since I really wasn’t in the mood to relive the details just yet, I pulled her into a hug as I told her, “Text me when you make it home, okay? And lay off the weed.”

  That made her giggle. “Are you kidding me? After that bullshit, Shaq and I are definitely about to burn through a sack once I can pull him away from the fresh bread basket the waitress just brought out. Or maybe we’ll just share a brownie.”

  I was quick to exclaim, “No! Last time Shaq had a brownie, he ended up on the roof.”

  “Is that supposed to turn me off from the idea, or…?” Mila trailed teasingly, making me roll my eyes again as I imagined her ending up the same way. But I shouldn’t have been surprised that even after finding a gem of advice at dinner, she was still going to do whatever her heart desired.

  In fact, I respected it, changing my advice to offer a simple, “Just be safe, Mila. Please.”

  “Always, always,” she replied with a grin before giving a little advice of her own. “Now go find your man.”

  Even though he still wasn’t technically my man, I knew exactly who she was talking about, the thought of curling up under Khalid after a night like tonight only making me miss him even more since…, “I already told you, he’s out of town.”

  “Welp. Sounds to me like you need to be booking yourself a flight and packing a hoe-vernight bag,” she suggested with a little pat to my shoulder as I ran her word choice back in my head.

  Then I repeated it out loud, “Hoe-vernight…” before I busted out laughing. “You play too much, Mila.”

  She teasingly pinched my cheek when she replied, “Just wanted to see you smile again, babe. Now go do what you gotta do, and how about you not be all that safe, if you know what I mean.”

  Instead of entertaining her with details of how late she was with that idea considering the day Khalid and I had shared, I simply to
ld her, “Bye, Jamila.” Clicking the alarm on my car so that I could actually find it. And once I was secure inside, I made a phone call to the man who still had me satisfyingly sore between the thighs.

  He didn’t answer.

  And not only didn’t he answer, but it went straight to voicemail after one ring as if he had pressed ignore.

  “Must’ve been an accident,” I decided, waiting a few moments and then calling again through the Bluetooth in my car. But this time, it rang all the way through before going to voicemail, the sound of the beep making me jump a little bit as I tried to figure out what to say without being completely awkward.

  “Hey, Khalid. It’s... me. Jayla. You won’t believe the night I just had. Call me when you get this. I… miss you.”

  Pressing the button on my steering wheel to end the call, I drove the rest of the short drive to my apartment in silence, trying not to think the worst of him not picking up the phone. I mean, he could’ve very well been in a dead reception spot on his little road trip. Or maybe he had arrived a bit earlier than he anticipated and was already asleep after the long day we had. He also could’ve been meeting up with Chance and Londyn and simply forgotten to charge his phone.

  Or maybe he’s meeting up with one of the girls from his DMs on Instagram like Jason would.

  I wasn’t even sure where that idea had come from, but I did my best to shake it off as I went into my apartment, pouring myself a glass of wine since I hadn’t been at the restaurant long enough to actually order one. But the more I drank, the wilder my thoughts became, my mother’s words playing over and over again in my head like a broken record.

  They’re all the same.

  After hearing Khalid earnestly express being “only about me”, I knew that couldn’t possibly be true. But when I thought back to the panties he claimed were Londyn’s and woke up early the next morning without a single notification from him on my phone, I worried my mother might’ve been right after all.

  Khalid

  Something was off.

  I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I knew it the second I woke up and it was pouring rain outside, making for a dark morning instead of the sunshine I expected to be coming through the window of the hotel I was staying in. And it wasn’t only the weather, but also the multiple missed calls and messages I had on my phone once I retrieved it; a few calls from my job, a few calls and voicemails from Jayla, and a text from Londyn asking what the move was for the night since her and Chance were planning on joining me at the club.

  After shooting her a quick response with the only details I had from the club promoter, I listened to the voicemails Jayla had left me the night before that had come about an hour apart; the first one talking about her night being crazy, making me wonder what she had gotten into after I left town. And the second one was… all over the place, going from her being worried about me to her being upset with me about something to giving me extra details the promoter had left out because of course she was still on her business shit. But the fact that at least a quarter of her words were slurred told me the call had been less about actually getting in touch with me and more about whatever alcohol she had consumed.

  At least that’s what I assumed once I gave her a call back, hardly expecting her to even be awake this early if she had drunk as much as it sounded like she did. But to my surprise, she ended up answering, her voice as sharp as usual when she said, “Hello.”

  Just having her on the line was enough to bring a smile to my face as I told her, “Good morning, Sunshine. Heard you had a long night.”

  “That’s really none of your business,” she replied, my eyebrow piquing as if she could see me since… Where the hell did that come from?

  I didn’t get a chance to ask, Jayla jumping right to the final point in her voicemail once she continued, “Did you get my message about the club? What time you’re supposed to arrive, the expectations while you’re there, and all that?”

  “Yes, boss lady. Heard that part right after you said you were mad at me for somethin’. What’d I do?” I questioned, wondering if the little attitude she had with me right now was somehow correlated.

  Instead of answering my question, she only let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t really want to talk about it. I need you focused on tonight.”

  “Seriously, Jayla. What is going on? What happened last night?” I asked again, sitting up in the bed now that the situation seemed a little more serious. But once again, instead of just coming out with it, she brushed me off.

  “I don’t want to talk about that either. Now do you have any questions about the gig? Or are you good to go?”

  Since she was trying to business her way around it, I used the same strategy when I replied, “No, I have a question. Why is the woman who booked this shit acting so weird this morning?”

  I was being completely serious, but Jayla didn’t take it that way, letting out an annoyed grunt in response. “Ugh. Everything isn’t a joke, Khalid.”

  “Well everything ain’t a damn press release either, Jay. Now are you gonna tell me what’s going on, or are you really gonna pretend like I can’t tell somethin’ is up with you?” I asked sternly, hoping that would make it clear that I wasn’t letting this go. But instead of just being honest and helping me understand, Jayla took the easy way out.

  “I… have to go. Have fun tonight, okay?”

  “Jayla, wait…” I started, met with the sound of my own phone beeping to signal the call had ended. And when I immediately called back, it didn’t ring at all, going straight to voicemail as if she had turned her phone off.

  Wow.

  It had been awhile since I’d been on the receiving end of a cold shoulder, and this one in particular didn’t really make any sense to me; especially considering how good of a time Jayla and I had experienced just yesterday. But instead of blowing her phone up with more calls that were sure to go unanswered like I wanted to, I decided to take a break from the situation, using my phone to call the last item on the priority list.

  My job.

  One of the guys who usually took over for me mid-morning, Zo, was the one to answer, using his tough guy, professional voice to say, “Security department. This is Lorenzo.”

  “Zo, what’s good? It’s Khalid.”

  His whole demeanor completely changed. “Oh, shit. What’s up, man? Saw you took the night off. Was the pussy that fire?”

  I did my best to laugh him off, trying not to let thoughts of Jayla invade my mind when I replied, “I wasn’t even on that, bruh. Just got some other business I gotta handle in the city. But somebody from the office called me. You know who it was?”

  “The only supervisor here is Mike, so it must’ve been him. You want me to forward you over?” he asked, speaking with cornball ass Mike not exactly how I wanted to start my Saturday morning.

  Not that anything was wrong with him.

  I mean, he was a decent boss and all that. But he was also the type that took his security without a gun job a little too seriously, acting like we had to go through the damn academy to be qualified when really we just had to be willing to sit there bored more often than not.

  After dealing with everything Jayla had going on - or not dealing with it -, I figured talking to Mike couldn’t be much worse, allowing me to answer, “Not really. But yeah, go ahead.”

  Since Zo knew exactly what I meant, he only started laughing before forwarding the call to Mike’s office. And once he picked up using that same tough guy, professional tone that Lorenzo had used, I replied, “Good morning, Mike. It’s Khalid.”

  That broke his persona completely, the goofy meter turned all the way up when he said, “Khalid, hey. Good morning, bud. Did ya get my email?”

  Shaking my head as if he could see me, I answered, “No, sir. Haven’t gotten that far yet. What’s going on?”

  Somehow his tone still had that goofy twang even once it dropped an octave when he explained, “Well, I have a... bit of bad news for ya, bud. There was an incident o
n the property during the last shift you worked; vandalism, to be more specific. Since you were supposed to be on guard at the time and failed to file any report, we’ll have to place you on unpaid leave until we can further investigate the situation to figure out if you were intentionally negligent or was it more of an... accidental oversight.”

  Vandalism?

  Negligence?

  Trying my best to stay calm, I told him, “Mike, this is my first time hearing about this. And I did my usual, scheduled rounds when I was on the clock, so I’m not sure how I would’ve missed something like that.”

  I was already playing back the highlights from that night in my head, including the little break I spent in Jayla’s office, when Mike released a nasally sigh straight into the phone. “Listen, bud. I understand we can’t catch it all, which is why we’re investigating to make sure we can still trust you in the position. But until we can confirm that, we can’t have you here on watch.”

  Since it sounded like their minds were already made up, I figured there was no use arguing against it, instead asking Mike, “How long will the investigation take?”

  With the money I had coming in from promotional ads and the check I’d get at the end of the night from the hosting gig, I wasn’t too worried about having to take a few days off from my regular job. But when I heard him flipping through the stack of files on his desk that never seemed to shrink - and imagined him adjusting the glasses on his nose - I became a little more concerned.

  “Could be a week or two. Maybe more. Third-party companies love to take their time with these kinds of things.”

  My first thought was, “Y’all are bringing in a third-party company over a missed vandalism case?” But my second, more important thought was, “A week or two? Unpaid? Nah, they’re gonna have to speed that up a little bit. I can’t miss an entire pay period just for them to figure out I did nothing wrong.”

  “Sorry, bud. I’m not the one in charge here,” Mike offered with another nasally sigh, adding in a snort from his always stuffy-nose that made me cringe since I knew he was pulling that nasty ass handkerchief from his pocket to… yup, there’s the blow.