“Rose glasses,” I say to myself.
“Were you looking out of them again?”
“I was. It’s addicting.”
“Just take one day at a time.” And I let a deep meditative breath out as we pull onto my street. “Ready for this?” he asks as he nods towards my condo.
“Yeah. I’m ready.”
Jasmine
(christmas. future.)
But we’re not going in.
“The first time you see Marlon again, you two should really talk in private,” Malcolm says as we stand outside of my condo building with a great view of my living room, the kitchen and Marlon’s home office. “So I didn’t come here to take you upstairs; that is, unless you want to go. I just came here so that you can see your family.” He points towards my condo. There in the window is Tiffany, Pearl and their Irish nanny, the white-haired sixty-year-old Gertrude, a woman who came highly recommended by Judge Carmichael’s wife. With the girls in holiday sweaters, jeans and boots and Gertrude in a green sweater with a Christmas tree on the front, they all look remarkably festive and happy without me. As if Christmas can and will go on whether I’m around or not. Hmm … the nerve. Right now they’re decorating the Christmas tree with our standard cream and aqua blue ornaments.
“Malcolm, those are my kids. I have two kids and I’m sitting around wondering about another man.” I look at him. “When you were dating Laura, I know that you gave Danielle cards and flowers but did you ever sit around and just wonder about her?” I glance back towards my condo and notice that Tiffany and Pearl are now arguing over who will hang the star. They both have their hands on it in a tug of war while Gertrude claps for them to be nice to each other.
“Yeah, I used to wonder about Red. Wondered what she was writing these days or what book she happened to be reading. Wondered what great significance she was about to make in the world. Now I see that she was probably walking around, tearing shit up. But see, that’s reality. My former idea of her being a good person was roses. But I still wondered about her; that never went away. And to this very day, when she and I are away from each other, I wonder what she’s up to; albeit for different reasons, but I still wonder about her.” He smiles and shakes his head. “Yeah,” he stares off into the street, “the wonder never goes away.”
“No, it doesn’t.” We stand in silence and watch the girls continue to argue over the star. The old me would have flown up those steps, yanked that star out of their hands, threw it in a box and been the only house on the block that went star-less for Christmas. The new me is just too tired to even care.
“Can I ask you a question?” I ask Malcolm.
“Of course.”
“Do you think it’s possible to love two people at once? Or do you think that I really love one man more than the other, but I just haven’t admitted it to myself yet? Do you think that I really love Jacob more and that I’m just playing house with Marlon?”
“What do you think?”
“Well, I know it sounds strange but I think I love Marlon and Jacob with the same intensity.”
“I can see that,” he says with a nod. “From what I’ve noticed with my other clients, men seldom want to leave their wives for their mistresses. Women will seldom leave their husbands for the milkman. In fact, when it comes down to having to choose, wives and husbands normally come out on top. But the mistresses and milkmen are never forgotten. I can only come up with one answer for this: love is a lot like people; no matter how different each experience is, it’s all equal. Thomas Jefferson said, We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. Substitute the word love in place of men and what you have is, All love is created equal. It’s gifted by God and is full of incentives. The greatest of love’s perks are life, freedom and the ability to find happiness. As are the rights of people, so are the rights of love. It’s universal; the same from one person to the next. So the givers may vary, but the gift is the same. The gift should give you life, freedom and the opportunity to enjoy them both. But that’s just the advice of an attorney. Go to a priest and I’m sure he’ll tell you different.”
“Is that the speech you give to all your clients?”
He smiles. “It is.”
“Malcolm, I feel love for both Marlon and Jacob. Equally.”
“It happens,” he says frankly.
“It’s just that at my very core, I’m not Mrs. Jasmine Kyles. I’m Jasmine Harlow and I love to hop on the back of Jacob’s Beemer and go cruising down 95. I just felt so free with him. I’d gladly surrender my dignity if I could just feel like that once again. Yes, Jacob was dangerous but for some reason I felt safe. Yes, he was rotten but for some reason I’ve never felt more special than when I was with him. I was connected to the earth, right there in my own body when I was with him. I was recklessly living for the day. I was right there at St. Bernadette’s, Princeton and Yale with the man I loved and there were no bedtimes to think about, no weather updates to concern myself with, no traffic jams to consider. I was just this free soul having this human experience with this electrifying guy and I felt So. Fucking. Free. I just felt so good with him. Just so good.”
“I get that.” He shrugs. “Jacob may wear a suit and tie but he’s a free spirit. His energy is contagious at times,” he looks at me and says, “it can also be tragic.”
“I just feel like if I were married to Jacob, he wouldn’t be so tragic. I’m sorry but I just think that he’d be a better person with me.” Malcolm lets out a light laugh.
“Oh yeah?” he asks. “Red’s a feminist so I can seldom pull weight but I have forbidden her to touch two things: a matchbook and a postage stamp. Long story. Anyway, there’s normally nothing I can do to stop Red from anything; she, unfortunately, has freewill. So I can try to make her different but chances are my efforts will always fail. I submitted to the fact that I have to love her as is. No returns. No take backs. When Red expresses herself, all I can do is pick up the pieces afterwards. Would you have been willing to be a cleanup woman?”
“I’m not sure. I guess if you love someone, that’s what you do.”
“You love Jacob and I love Red. But let’s be honest here, it’s not easy sharing your life with a loose cannon. It’s not easy sharing your life with a free spirit. It’s not easy sharing your life with someone who acts first and thinks later. Yes, it’s fun at times but it’s also tormenting. You’re always worried that they’ve done some shit that you won’t be able to get them out of. And then when you add kids to the mix—well, shit, everything changes. Sometimes you feel as though you’re spending half of your existence, keeping their asses out of trouble, jail or a coffin.”
“But you do it effortlessly.”
“I’m built for it.” He slides his hands in his pockets. The flash of Marlon’s office light draws our attention. We both look towards the home office as Marlon comes into view wearing his wool coat, loosening his tie and holding onto his briefcase and a cup of coffee. He places the briefcase and coffee on a nearby end table and slides his coat off before placing it on a gold post near the door.
“He just came back from the office?” I ask in astonishment.
“Must have.”
“Well, what time is it?”
“It’s …” Malcolm checks his watch, “almost ten.”
“Is he mad! How dare he come in from the office that late and leave the girls with Gertrude. Just look at them now, fighting over that star while Gertrude is still clapping her hands for them to stop.”
“What would you have done?”
“Put the darn thing back in the box! No one gets to put it up, so there.” Malcolm and I watch Marlon as he settles in his chair behind his desk, presses a button on his office phone and places his briefcase on his desk. “What! He just came in from the office and he’s checking messages and doing work?”
“Yes, Red, I mean, Ja
smine. The thing about working for a living is that it never ends.”
“Oh, please! Does he not hear the girls in there arguing over that star?”
“Well, Gertrude’s in there.”
“But look now. Tiffany has just licked Pearl’s hand, now Pearl’s gonna get grossed out and start crying.” And sure enough, Pearl drops the star, and starts crying. Meanwhile, with her tongue hanging out of her mouth, like she’s accomplishing some great feat, Tiffany walks up a small ladder to place the star on the tree. “Why isn’t Gertrude stopping Tiffany?”
“She looks like she’s reprimanding her. She has her finger up and she’s waving it.”
“Please! Look at Tiffany; as happy as a lark. Oh look, Pearl just ran from the room. I bet you …” I wait to see if Marlon looks up, and sure enough, he does. I then watch Pearl jump on his lap and cry profusely into his chest as he rubs her head while looking over it at the files on his desk. “Oh, will you look at him? No, I can’t take it. He’s allowing the entire house to crumble around him. First Tiffany’s licking hands, next thing you know she’ll be into adult entertainment. I already have a lewd picture of me out there so surely they’ll blame me. They always blame the mother who has a naked picture already out.”
“I can see why you’re worried,” Malcolm says as his phone rings. “We don’t want the hand licking thing to lead to a career in pornography.”
“Oh, hush, Malcolm.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and looks at the caller.
“Shit, what now? Hold on, Jasmine … Nat, what’s going on? Dena told her? … Where is she? … I’m on my way.” He ends the call.
“Everything okay?”
“Did you want to go up there? Settle things with your girls?” He points to my condo.
I do, but …
I watch Marlon as he rubs Pearl’s hand on his shirt, kisses the top of her head and then looks back down at his papers.
“No.”
“Okay.”
“And don’t you dare judge me. You’re married to Danielle Rouge.”
“No judgment here.” He puts his hands up in defense. “I think you should come along with me on a bonus ride.”
“Sure, why not?” I say as I turn and walk back towards the truck. “I’m already in love with another woman’s husband—why not drive around town with a third woman’s husband?”
“There’s the spirit.”
“After all, I lost my best friend, my boyfriend married another woman and my oldest daughter is on the road to sexual promiscuity.”
“Here, let me help you in,” Malcolm says as he opens the door for me.
“I’m exhausted … where are we going?” I just feel so defeated right now.
“Blair House.”
“Where?”
“Oh, my parents’ home.”
Jacob
(the. promise.)
“What? Jacob, you’re kidding!” she says as she straddles me. “When did you find this out? Why are they expecting you to marry her?” Now, I can tell Jasmine the truth. I can tell her that Winnie and I have been casually fucking for about two years now and our families are getting all goo-goo eyed over it. Or, I can tell her that I barely know Winnie and it’s just a match that her parents and my parents orchestrated without Winnie’s or my participation, and that I’m actually quite stunned by it all myself. Damn. I’m just going to go and tell Jasmine the truth. She deserves that.
“I’m just as surprised as you, Jazz.” But I can’t.
“But why her? No offense, but isn’t she a floozy? The society column of The Globe is always mentioning how she’s ‘hanging out’ with this senator’s son or the next. I just don’t get why your parents would choose Gwyneth Yates.”
I try and think about that question as the sound of crickets and the glare of moonlight seeps into the room. I lean my back against my headboard and close my eyes. Just tell her the truth Jacob. Just tell her that you met Winnie, she was a hookup, you like her because she’s got heart and she’s funny and she’s quick and she’s both smart and sarcastic as hell. Tell her you like Winnie’s edge, her sly smiles, her cool ass attitude. Tell her that you like that nothing rattles her, she doesn’t expect much from you. Tell her that you like how Winnie isn’t trying to change you and for once you’ve found a woman who isn’t trying to make you better. For once you’ve found a woman who isn’t thinking up baby names and talking about wedding dresses. She isn’t giving you funny looks when you notice a badass woman right in front of you at the movie theatre. In fact, she’s looking at the date of the badass woman at the movie theatre. Tell her you like this. Tell her you think that shit is sexy as hell. But tell her that there’s no way in hell that you want to marry Winnie, or any other woman, right now. Not even Queen Jasmine.
“She comes from a good family,” I say to Jasmine, my eyes still closed.
“A good white family.” I let out a deep breath.
“Yeah, baby.”
“And why don’t you just tell them no, Jacob?” She leans over and gives me a kiss on the lips. I slide my hands over her waist and pull her completely against me. Skin on skin.
“I will, Jazz.” I won’t.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” No. My eyes still closed, I inhale deeply and then breathe it out.
“When are you going to tell them?” She gives me another kiss on the lips.
“Soon.” Never.
“But when?”
“Before the wedding, Jazz.”
“Well no kidding, Jacob.”
“Just let me just figure this out. All I need to do is figure this out.”
“Jacob, just say you won’t marry her. Why can’t you just say that?”
Because I need a wife for where I’m headed. A connected wife. One who has an Old Boston family name. One that has her own set of connects and associates. One who can walk me into circles that I’m not yet a part of. One who can help me expand this law firm I plan on starting. One who can help get me some clients just because she’s my wife and they’re in her network. One who can be of use to me. I love you, Jasmine, but I’m sorry; you can’t be of use to me. I respect your circle, I really do, but your circle doesn’t turn to white boys for help; they turn to each other. I’ve gotta bring my own set of clients into this business that Mac, Cadence, Nat and I are trying to start in two years.
“Jasmine, I won’t marry her.”
“Thank you,” she says as she jumps off of me and onto the bed. “Now I have to tinkle. I don’t wanna get another UTI messing around with you.” She gives me a playful shove on the leg and then hops off the bed, heading for the bathroom. I wait until I hear the door close before I lean over and check my cell phone. I see I missed Nat’s phone call.
Nat decided to head to Harvard for law school instead of Yale with Mac and me. He stays in the city with Dena, whom he married last year, and in the same apartment building as Cadence and his wife Lola, who’ve been married for a year and half now. Cadence went to Harvard after graduating from University of Cambridge and moving back from London. The move to Harvard was smart—in theory. Nat and Cadence will be close to the Boston scene. I understand what they’re doing but I wasn’t about to go to law school in Cambridge, Massachusetts, a city where my father is the mayor and my mother is the First Lady. Nat, however, isn’t calling to chat and shoot the breeze. I’m sure he wants to know what’s going on with Jasmine. I hurry and call him back as Jasmine begins to run the faucet water, something she does so that I won’t hear her using the bathroom.
“Jake,” Nat says as he answers.
“Yeah.”
“So did you tell her about Winnie?”
“Just did it.”
“And?”
“It went as expected. She’s asking me to call it off.”
“You can’t do that, Jake.”
“No shit, Nat.” I run my hand over my face. Nat’s been bullshitting around about starting a law firm with Mac, Cadence and me in two years when we graduate law school.
He’s worried that we’ll struggle to get clients in Boston, a town where everyone’s a lawyer. Therefore, he’s talking about joining his father and brother at their firm first to get some of their clients. He thinks that’s smart; I think it’s owing another man your livelihood. I’d rather owe my wife my livelihood than another man. So he can pussyfoot around about joining Mac, Cadence and me if he wants to but I’m telling you, if keeps playing hard to get, Blair and March, will quickly turn into Blair and Associates. And guess which one he’ll be.
“Listen,” Nat whispers. Dena must be around somewhere. “I want to start this firm eventually but I’m not doing it without leverage. I’d rather go to my father’s firm where he has clients and a roster of politicos and then branch off.”
“And risk being called a goddamn spinoff? Grow some balls!” I whisper.
“I have balls! If you ask me, Cadence, Malcolm and I are the only one with balls around here.”
“Are you fucking serious? I’m about to sound like a bitch right now and say take that back. You’ve got to be kidding me. Cadence has more balls than me? A man who majored in poetry?”
“Jake, listen, I’m with Dena-Jo’s hillbilly ass because she has connections. Mac’s with Laura’s crazy ass because she has connections, Cadence is with Lola because she has connections and you need to be with Winnie for the same reason. Cadence, Mac and I are doing our part, what the hell are you doing? We need to start selling ourselves ASAP! We need to start putting the bug in people’s ear right now if we want clients by the time we graduate. So drop Jasmine and make this happen with Winnie or you’re out the business.”
“I’m out of the business? Are you serious?” I laugh. “Did you just say that to me?”
“Jasmine can’t help us. Winnie can. Damn, grow up, Jake. You don’t marry for love, you marry for leverage.”
“Nat, leave me the fuck alone. You’re not speaking to a damn amateur. If I said I’ll end it with Jasmine, that’s what I’ll do. Now don’t you have a demanding ass wife to pretend to honor and obey? By the way, good job on that. No one would ever know that you’re full of shit. You’re almost as good as Malcolm.”
Forever. (This. Is. Not. Over. Book 3) Page 9
