Love's Inconvenient Truth

by Love Belvin

  Once out the shower, I threw on a bra and matching panties. It was late and I was crashing by the second. I knew I had very little else to do before I called it a night and needed to get this over with, so I opened the letter. Virginia’s penmanship was always classic with neat curvatures.

  Here we go.

  I tore the envelope and pulled out the greeting card.

  Happy birthday in heaven to a missed angel!

  Ellen,

  I know it’s a little peculiar to receive Henny’s birthday cards but I can think of no other way of commemorating the occasion than sending it to his life partner. I’m sure he’s with you every second of the day. Please let him know his mother loves and misses him.

  Happy 37th birthday!

  V. Dickens

  Enclosed was the usual collection of pictures she sent every year. This time, it was one of him as a school-aged kid. According to the back of the photo, he was nine. The other was of the two of us together at a barbeque twelve years ago.

  Yeah, Virginia, eerie is right.

  I didn’t forget it was Henry’s birthday. Hell, I was married to the man and celebrated it four years in a row. This was the first year I didn’t break down or slip into some numbing and elusive state. The pain could be debilitating and wouldn’t let up for a reprieve until days had past. I swear, when I went through those bouts, I could forget to breathe. My new role at the firm and time-consuming activities of the day helped me push his memory to the recesses of my mind. At his memory, his scent came alive and his voice filled my head. His smile, his scowl, his commitment, his betrayal—they all came rushing into my frontal lobe, suffocating me.

  I didn’t want that. Not this year. Not anymore. I needed to shake it off so that I could move on. I felt the bile threatening and the tears stinging the back of my eyes. Immediately, I decided to shut my body down and fall asleep before his presence and that of all I lost engulfed me and took me under.

  I don’t know how much restful sleep I was able to get in before I was hit with another harsh nightmare. I leaped from my sodden bedding, limbs trembling, body drenched from head to toe with sweat that I perceived to be as others’ blood, and teeth clattering from the terror of it all. I didn’t cry, couldn’t pity myself. I’d earned my misery without help from anyone else.

  The following day, I awoke with a new resolve and worked my way through two hours at the gym. After showering and mapping out a plan out to Old Westbury, I hit the road. The commute was long and daunting, likely because I was heavily anticipating what was to come. I was still confused about Jackson’s living situation.

  October was approaching and so were breezes of cooler air after hours, so I made sure to bring a blazer with me. I didn’t know what the dress code would be, and threw on a pair of fitted jeans, a jeweled sleeveless baby doll blouse and studded platform pumps with my toes out. I left out my signature bangs and swept my golden ringlets into a ponytail to not seem too casual, but slid on large bracelets and earrings to offset the formality in my look. I carried my work tools in a tote since it was a working meeting.

  Shit. I was a walking bag of nerves not knowing what to expect.

  After the train portion of my trip, I hopped in a cab to Jackson’s address. As I got closer into town, I was struck by the change of scenery taking place outside of the window. Clearly, Dorothy had left Kansas and entered into the town of the elite. The sprawling homes were so amazon that I started to fear I was going to the wrong place. The residences were not simple houses, they were estates with marble contemporary architects on massive acreage. These properties were so enormous, behind their respective gates, they appeared as small secluded communities unto themselves. There were no sidewalks. Oh, no. If you weren’t visiting someone here, you certainly wouldn’t be taking a stroll down these long curvy scenic roads.

  The cab pulled in front of the house just after three p.m. and I rang the doorbell with a belly full of butterflies. A middle aged woman wearing khakis, a white shirt and hunter green sweater answered the door. I could tell although her hair was sprinkled with lots of gray, she was wearing a wig full of petite curls. She had beautiful ebony skin and a mildly spirited smile.

  “Hi—” I spoke, prepared to inform her of my reason for being there, but I didn’t get a chance to because she cut me off.

  “Jackson and his associates are out back. Just follow the path to the rear of the house.”

  And what a massive unit it was! The walls high, the ceilings were cathedral, and the floor an expensive marble no doubt. Colossal art hung throughout and the furniture I was able to grasp en route looked too expensive to sit on. There was a rich and cohesive display of style, grace and…money.

  As soon as my curious and explorative eyes located the rear French doors I heard, “Elle…pssssst!”

  I turned to follow the voice and eventually found Marie, walking from along the corridor near the rear, just off the great room. She skipped over to me in a hurry. I could tell by her tentative eyes scanning the place that she was just as intimidated by the grandeur as I was.

  “This shit is a palace, isn’t it?” Marie’s voice was hardly a whisper. I nodded in agreement. “I mean, I live about twenty-five minutes away and our moms frequent many of the same organizations, but this is grand.” Her dark brown orbs were haunted as she spoke. “I heard stories about this place, but damn!”

  I chuckled, amused by Marie’s ability to say what I felt. The place took my breath away.

  “It’s certainly gorgeous,” I concurred.

  With her eyes still taking in the ambiance, Marie sighed, “Straight out of a magazine. This has to be… how many square feet?”

  I gave my shoulders a slight lift as I twisted up my lips. I had no idea.

  “So, you drove here?” I asked, curious if anyone had a similar commute to mine.

  “Yeah, I drove here. I actually have plans in Brooklyn tonight, so I’ll be headed out there after we leave.”

  “Oh, okay. Shall we?” I inclined my head toward the door.

  “Sure. After you.”

  I opened the door and lead the way out where I smelled familiar fragrances of a grill that made my stomach growl. I saw beautifully manicured greenery and a massive in-ground pool, feet off the cobblestone flooring that surrounded the parameters of the back of the estate. To the left was a walkway to a beautiful gazebo. To the far right was a huge tent covering a large bar and possibly a half dozen small circular tables suited for a bar or restaurant. I had guessed the Hunters liked to host events here.

  Marie and I made our way under the tent and as we neared, we heard welcoming comments.

  “They’re here!” Brad shouted in jest.

  “Hey, y’all!” Jamie called out.

  “See, Jackson, she made it safe and sound,” Bridgette noted audibly. I wondered who she was referring to, me or Marie.

  Well, that was until I turned to the vicinity where I could feel eyes burning into the side of my face. “Yes, I see she found her way. Now we can get started.”

  I found Jackson’s eyes pinning me, causing me to freeze in place. They were slanted, drawing me in while causing a stir in my core. At some point, I started to wonder what those around us saw in his darkening eyes that surveyed me from the tip of my high ponytail down to the round of my hips and landed on the brown of my toenails. In them I saw a predatory gaze that while I felt it inappropriate, I also found arousing. In the span of approximately seven seconds my heart rate doubled and my skin dewed at the sight of him.

  He wore a thin black v-neck sweater, indigo relaxed fit jeans and Gucci trek boots. I knew this because occasionally when out doing what I like to do best, I would browse the men’s section, fantasizing about how nice it would be to have a man to shop for.

  Impossible dreams.

  He looked casual compared to the suits I’d become accustomed to seeing him in. Nowadays you would expect to see a kid his age in skinny jeans restricting his blood flow and a neon shirt of some feminine sort, but not Jackso
n. He was always urbane in style. I liked it. As much as it unnerved me to admit, he had become intriguing at every turn.

  “Let’s begin,” I breathed out.

  “Are you hungry? I do plan to feed you before I put you to work,” Jackson murmured with an impassive expression.

  “Damn, Hunt. Want us to leave you two alone?” Jamie mocked, to which Jackson shot him a warning glower.

  “Just kidding, boss!” Jamie laughed with his hands raised defensively in the air.

  That gave me a moment to calm myself. Jamie’s comment told me others were aware of the bizarre chemistry between Jackson and me. Or at least, I’d hoped I was overreaching in my assumptions.

  This has to work!

  “Starving actually,” I replied to Jackson’s question.

  “Me, too. Let’s grab a bite,” Marie called over to me.

  I dropped my things on a chair and strode over to the wonderfully decorated buffet table loaded with all types of foods, hot and cold. Marie and I packed our plates and found a table to sit and eat alone, but not far from the group.

  “So, a hot date?” I asked as I bit into my corn on the cob.

  “Huhn?” Marie squinted as she tore into a barbequed rib.

  “Brooklyn,” I reminded her at, obviously, a not-so-modest tone because Jamie, who was directly behind me at a table began coughing into his food as Marie’s eyes shot up and she stiffly shook her head, telling me to shut up. I damn near dropped my corn.

  Are they screwing?

  Oh, hell no!

  I shot her an examining look. She ducked her head and plopped a shrimp cocktail into her mouth. Bridgette, appearing oblivious to what had just happened, asked Jamie if he was okay and jumped to pop him in the back. Did anyone else know what was going on?

  My glance transferred over to Jackson, who sat on top of a table with his phone gripped in his hands. I could tell he was brooding, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened, too.

  A door at the other end of the house opened and out came a beautiful girl with flawless bronzed skin, wearing a bikini top and short shorts. She was leading the pack of six animated guys and girls. They were howling and some were horse-playing as they trekked across the immaculately manicured lawn, headed towards the pool. I could see them from my seat as I faced them, but Jackson, Jamie and Marie’s backs were to them. Jackson shifted in his seat on the table and tossed a glance over his shoulder at their boisterous sounds.

  “Shit!” he huffed. “Candice!” he yelled out to the crowd.

  The young, auburn skinned beauty jumped at the sound of his voice. Jackson waved his arm, gesturing for her to come over to him. I could see sudden defeat in her mood as she asked the group of teens to halt before heading toward a now standing Jackson, who crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t seem so happy. But before she crossed the lawn, Candice handed a heavy shoulder bag over to one of her female associates. I recognized the weight of the bag and the quick pass-off maneuver.

  As she advanced toward us, I was able to discern her facial features that were so close to Jackson’s that if she wasn’t his younger sister she could only be his daughter. Candice was average height with a small frame, boasting a handful of tastefully sized tattoos. Her hair was scooped up into a ponytail, exposing her enormous diamond stud earrings. She looked young enough to be innocent, but there was a wicked twitch in the vivacity of her eyes. She tried to soften her features to appease Jackson, who clearly saw straight through her deliberations. He had to.

  He strode her over, just outside the tent, but still in my earshot and asked, “Didn’t I tell you I had a meeting this afternoon and would be using the entire lower level of the house, including the yard, well into the evening?”

  “My bad, Jackson. I didn’t know you meant this Saturday. I didn’t even know you’d be here today. I can take them downstairs,” Candice offered. Jackson glanced over her shoulders, observing her friends.

  “Isn’t that Trevor McKinnon? Didn’t I tell you he wasn’t allowed here when I’m not around?”

  “You are here.” She hiked her eyebrows.

  “But you just said you didn’t expect me to be.” Jackson’s eyes narrowed. “After what Helen caught you two doing last month, you think now is a good time to lie to me? A part of our negotiation was that he wasn’t allowed here without my presence or permission.”

  Candice’s expression sharpened. “Jackson, I’m not a baby. Okay, what I did was wrong, but that was eons ago. Besides, he’s with Sara Parker now.”

  That was the familiarity hidden in her eyes: Candice was a liar and a sneaky one at that. In this private conversation between Jackson and his sister, I found humor and pain, simultaneously.

  When I glanced over to Marie, she was buried into her phone, typing away. On suspicion, I turned around behind me to find Jamie doing the same. I wondered if they were texting each other about my slip up.

  I returned my attention back to Jackson and his sister when I heard Jackson concede, “We’ll be out here for a little while longer. You can have the pool, but as soon as you’re done, which is in three hours, tops, Trevor is the first to exit the premises. You got it?”

  Candice huffed and switched weight on her slender hips in stance. Her eyes swept every which way except for at Jackson’s menacing scowl. They eventually landed on me when she boldly widened them in a flash in an attempt to embarrass me. She could have been successful if I didn’t feel we were kindred spirits at one point in my life. Without skipping a beat, I lifted my eyebrows and quirked my lips up in a smirk. I knew just what to do to irritate girls like her. Girls like us. Her gaping caused Jackson to follow her eyes. Both their gorgeous and brilliant amber eyes shone upon me, but mine were fixated on little Miss Candice who clearly was up to no good with her buddies.

  Finally, I offered a cocky nod and was rewarded by a hard rolling of the eyes. My smirk never faded as her head flew back over to Jackson.

  “Three hours,” Jackson stated firmly and Candice stomped her way back over to her friends with steam shooting from her ears.

  Jackson’s gaze burned into me as he treaded back over to our group under the tent. He arrived at my side and murmured intimately in my ear, “You tease her, you keep her.”

  Without looking at him, I chuckled quietly in my seat. Jackson then announced that he was ready to begin the meeting in the house.

  Inside the den were long floor-to-ceiling bookcases along each wall. One side of the colossal room was set up with a desk and two facing companion chairs, and on the other was a conference table that fit six. We all took a seat at the table with the exception of Jackson, who took the lead in this meeting.

  We kicked off the summit, discussing the Blackboard Scratcher file. I was impressed to hear Marie’s assessment of their image and recommendations as to how we should move forward with neutralizing their raging reputation and push the various projects its members wanted to take on.

  I noticed how not once during the meeting did Marie and Jamie exchange glances. It was obvious and weird to me considering how flirtatious Marie was and how vocal she had been about slamming either Jamie or Jackson in the bedroom.

  Marie’s discussion went on for an hour while we all contributed to and agreed on a sound plan to move forward. Bridgette suggested we break for ten minutes before moving on to Erika Erceg and Dale. Jackson offered the group drinks and I declined before scurrying to the powder room. When I found it right off of the kitchen, the door was closed and I heard snickering behind it. I figured it was one of the kids, so I rested against the wall along the corridor.

  Through muffled sounds I heard, “Could you believe she went for it and drank the whole bottle of Remy!”

  Snickers.

  “Yeah, that idiot thinks she really has a shot with Trevor now.”

  Cackles.

  “He doesn’t drink, but the fool is so gullible that she really believes she’s impressing him. Let’s hurry and watch her barfing in her own pool.”

  As the do
ors flew open, I moved in front of them, purposely startling and disarming them.

  “Ladies,” I greeted coolly with raised eyebrows.

  “Oh!” the olive one with chestnut locks falling down her back tweeted. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” The ebony skinned African American with natural curls perked.

  Their eyes were glazed and tightened from their earlier laughter episodes as they skirted down the same corridor I found Marie traveling when I’d arrived earlier and headed out the same set of French doors. I made my way into the bathroom, relieved and cleaned myself before taking a detour out to the tent for more food—or at least that’s what I would’ve told anyone I saw on the way. I wanted to see exactly what type of condition Candice was in.

  I recalled being the naïve party girl in the group, believing I had something to prove to fit in. Whether it was for the attention of a guy, gaining access to a clique in school or simply wanting to escape the label of the pastor’s daughter, I made it my personal mission to lay aside every fiber of dignity and resistance to challenge myself to be whomever I needed to be to gain social entry.

  I had no idea why I cared, but I felt compelled to be sure Candice at least wasn’t in harm’s way.

  When I reached the group of teens, she was sitting on the side of the pool with only her feet submerged. I could see she’d removed her barely-there shorts at some point. Candice was nice and tipsy as she laughed her pretty little ass off at nothing, I was sure. There were a total of seven kids out there including her, and it seemed that most of them were wasted. I walked up and knelt beside her.

  Her glassy eyes landed on me and she gasped, “What the hell are you doing out here?” She was loud with her reaction. But at some point, something clicked in her drunken brain because she then muttered, “Don’t tell me Jackson sent you out here to break up the party!” That part she didn’t want her associates to hear. Candice was frantic.

  I smiled politely at her as I surveyed her friends. “Of course not. I just came to make sure you didn’t overdo it with the Remy,” I explained just above a whisper with my smile still in place as to not alarm her or her company. The last thing I wanted to do was embarrassed her. Wrong move.