Taurus_Mr. Persistent_The 12 Signs of Love

by Tiana Laveen

“I love you, Carmen.”

  She looked into his eyes, her expression soft and open. He loved her even more at that moment. Finding the side of a building that faced an alleyway, he pulled her there. His heart beat so fast, a dull pain spread across his chest as he tore at her coat, their hands moving about like unravelling ebony and ivory ribbons. Raindrops began to fall, light and fluffy… Nothing much, just enough to awaken his senses even further.

  Stretching her arms upward, he pressed his body to hers, kissing the cradle of her neck as he grinded hard against her zone. He groaned when he felt the bony part of her elbow press against his gut. The woman made fast, frantic motions, her fingers flying. Zipper down and pants puddled against his ankles, she went down on her knees and slid the head of his hard dick into her mouth. Bracing himself with one arm against the wall, he let out uneven breaths as she took more of him in. He began to thrust in short, slow jabs. The heat from her mouth and the softness of her roving tongue threatened his composure.

  “Damn, baby…” He swallowed hard as he cradled the back of her head with his free hand, the light rain drizzle falling upon them like wet heavenly kisses. With one hand she stroked his balls, and with the other she kept his cock steady as she deep throated him with love and devotion in her eyes. “Shit! I’m going to cum!” He motioned his intention to jerk away and relieve himself on the ground, but she grabbed his ass and forced him to stay put while she milked him hard. “Fuck!”

  His thrusts quickened and exploded in her mouth, his knees buckling a time or two. She didn’t slow or stop after he climaxed, driving him all the crazier. When she slowly released him, the head of his cock bobbed against her lower lip. A streak of his creamy white cum drizzled down her chin before he helped her to her feet. Pulling a crumpled napkin out of his jacket pocket from a lunch earlier in the day, he handed it to her. She tapped at the sides of her lips, cleaning herself up. Then, he put up his pants and readjusted his clothes.

  Hand in hand once again, they walked back onto the main road, stomping in puddles, laughing and making plans for him to spend the night, though it hadn’t been previously discussed.

  “I love you too, Tristan.” She kissed his cheek.

  “One day, I’m going to plant you something special, Carmen. I can tell you that I love you again, and it will be true, but I want to give you something… something that will show you how much you mean to me. That way, you’ll never forget how much I do… you’ll never wonder…”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Badges, Blackness, and Bullshit

  “For three weeks I’ve been calling.” Darryl gripped the steering wheel of his gunmetal Audi A6. The sounds of, “24K Magic” by Bruno Mars played on the stereo. “You told me we’d get together soon, but Maury Povich showed the test results, and THAT was a lie! You’ve been M.I.A.”

  “Awww, man!” Tristan shook his head and chuckled as he pulled on the passenger’s side seatbelt, making sure it was secure and in place. Darryl was notorious for driving fast and whipping through lines like a stunt motorist. “I had a couple of nights in L.A. for that convention. Work has been crazy hectic and—”

  “Nah! It’s the doctor.” Darryl shot him a glance and burst out laughing. “It’s cool, man. I’m glad you’ve been having a good time with her. I like seeing you happy. So, what’s the update with you and Carmen anyway, huh?”

  “It’s still going great, man.” Tristan rested his hands on his thighs. “She’s amazing. We have a lot of fun. The conversations we engage in are the type that, you know, you could have with a friend and maybe only with a lover. We talk about everything, actually. I like that. She’s interesting… I never get bored with her.” He began to pat his leg to the beat of the music. “She keeps me on my toes.”

  “I bet she keeps you off your feet, too.” The man snickered.

  Tristan tossed him a glance full of mirth.

  “Yeah… that, too. The sex is great. I really am enjoying her, man. I think she’s the one… I honestly do.”

  “Cool… cool. I’m real happy for you… can’t wait to meet her.” A few minutes later, Darryl pulled up to Honey Lounge and Dance Club on Hennepin Avenue.

  “I haven’t been to a club in years!” Tristan eagerly reached for the car handle and let himself out. The music from the building was so loud, it reverberated through his entire body, from the top of his head down to his feet.

  “Yeah?” Darryl shouted. Closing and locking his door, he joined him on the sidewalk in front of the place. “I was here last year. They have some of the best live music, man. You should check it out. Tonight is DJ music though, club stuff. It should still be fun.” Darryl glanced down at his phone. “Looks like Keith and Lyle are already inside. Keith sent a text.”

  They stood in the long line, made their way inside, and sought out their pals. Keith and Lyle stood near the bar laughing boisterously, drinks in hand. Tristan slapped palms with them, excited to see the old crew. It had been at least seven or eight months since the four had found themselves under one roof together.

  “Hey, Keith and Lyle! Great to see ya both!” Tristan yelled out over the loud music of “Havana” by Camila Cabello, which boomed through the club speakers.

  “Nice to see you too, Mr. T!” Lyle lifted his drink in the air. “I saw an article about your company in the paper, and Erin said you all were featured in ‘Better Homes and Gardens.’”

  “Yeah, that’s true. Business has been great!”

  “Heard you’re seein’ a sexy doctor now, too!” Keith blurted, sporting a wily grin. “I bet you feign sickness just to get a bit of mouth to mouth resuscitation!”

  Tristan spun around to see Darryl pretending to be distracted with his phone; he knew the big mouthed bastard was the culprit.

  “I see Mr. Gossip has filled you in. But yeah, my girlfriend is a doctor, an ob-gyn to be exact. So, how’s Laurie?”

  “She’s great. She just got back in town actually. Was in Alaska visitin’ her grandmother who’s sick.”

  They engaged in small talk, catching up. The flowing words and good humor warmed his soul like hot chicken soup. Before long, he was holding an ice-cold bottle of Samuel Adams and planning his second one well in advance.

  Shuffling his feet to the beat of some electronic tune, his face began to hurt he’d been laughing so hard and for so long. It was hilarious watching Keith doing the robot on the dancefloor. A small crowd gathered, cheering the idiot on. Darryl joined him, both of them looking absolutely ridiculous while he and Lyle sat back poking fun and mocking them for sport.

  The crowd was a bit youthful, but Tristan didn’t mind. He’d had a discussion with his baby about branching out, doing things he wouldn’t normally do… stepping out of his comfort zone for the possibility of a damn good time. He took her advice a time or two, not once regretful of stepping foot into this other life he’d never known existed, one that was designed for him all along. Four hours later, he’d practically lost his voice. He sat back at a small table, his three friends nearby. All four of them were moving and speaking a bit slower now.

  Keith was completely toasted. Thankfully, Lyle would be taking him home that night. As the place thinned out and the last call for alcohol was announced, they all gathered around one another to say their farewells. They vowed to get together again soon, and this time, when Tristan made his promise, he meant it. He and Darryl headed towards the exit. Tristan felt invigorated when the icy cold air hit him square in the face. It was unseasonably cool, but at that moment, it felt like a dream come true. Darryl remained close behind as they made their way to his parked car.

  “Damn, it’s cold out here, but it feels good! I had gotten kinda sweaty in there.” Tristan nodded in agreement. It had become a damn hot box in the place with the blazing lights, body heat, and overcrowding.

  Once they got in the car, Darryl burst out laughing.

  “What?” Tristan adjusted his seat, feeling slightly woozy and now regretting that rum and coke he’d ordered at the last minute.

/>   “You didn’t even notice that lady trying to get your attention!”

  “What lady?!” Darryl pulled away from the curb and merged with traffic.

  “Exactly! See? She practically had her shirt pulled up over her head and tits out. You didn’t even look in her direction. Shit, I guess you really are in love. You’ve never been one to miss something like that.”

  Tristan shrugged his shoulders and yawned. He adjusted the seat a bit more to his liking, fully expecting to be knocked the fuck out and snoring in a matter of minutes.

  “I guess not… Anyway, I had a great time tonight, Darryl. Thanks! This was a good idea.”

  “I’m honestly surprised you agreed to go. It was Lyle’s idea, actually. But yeah, it was fun… felt like back in college. Even me being the designated driver was all too familiar.” The guy laughed, eliciting a smile from him.

  “Yeah, it was like déjà vu. A great night, man… much needed, too.”

  He couldn’t wipe the proud smile off his face. Yeah… proud. He was proud of himself for taking Carmen’s advice, proud of his friends for being such cool people, proud to be alive, free and thriving. He was proud to be American, proud to have a best friend like Darryl, proud to be the man of a beautiful woman with a big heart, high expectations, and a desire to experience all life had to offer.

  Darryl drove onto the highway and turned on the radio. “Bonfire Heart” by James Blunt crooned on low. Tristan’s eyes fluttered. The illuminations from buildings in the far distance and cars moving about soon morphed into muted, blurry white flashes of dancing light. Moments later, the sublime, easy going vibe that worked like a lullaby came to a screeching halt. He didn’t know much time had passed, but he was awakened to Darryl slowing down, bright lights behind them.

  “Shit. I wasn’t speeding… What in the world do they want?”

  Tristan rubbed his eyes, trying to focus and wake the hell up. He turned and took a look at the police car behind them, the lights so bright they hurt his eyes.

  “Fucking great,” he hissed while Darryl put the car in park.

  “Man, hand me my insurance and registration folder out of the glove compartment, just in case.”

  He did as his friend asked, then sat the papers in between them. Moments later, a police officer arrived at the driver’s side of the car.

  “Good evening, officer. Somethin’ wrong?” Darryl questioned.

  “Let me see your license and registration, please,” the cop asked.

  On a sigh, Darryl reached for the papers between them.

  “Let me see your hands!” the officer yelled.

  “But you just asked me to see my—”

  “Keep your hands within sight. Don’t make any sudden movements and don’t reach in your pockets without telling me exactly what you’re doing.”

  Tristan glared at the man who seemed to just now be noticing him, too. Their eyes locked.

  “Okay… I am reaching right here, to get my registration so that you can have it. I have to go into my wallet to get my license. It’s in my left jacket pocket.”

  Darryl began to gather his items, but Tristan didn’t miss the sudden somber mood, the life sucked out of their special world without warning or notice. His heart beat a bit faster, but he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was the sight of Darryl’s hands trembling when the cop first raised his voice.

  “Officer…” Tristan veered over, taking a closer look at the cop’s badge. “Officer Benson, can you tell us why you pulled us over, please?”

  “Changing lanes without a turn signal.”

  “I turned my signal on, sir. In fact, I—”

  “Be quiet!” The cop snatched the license and paperwork from Darryl’s hand and marched away from the car, then jumped back in his cruiser.

  “What the hell is going on, here? Is he crazy?!”

  Tristan couldn’t believe what was happening. Surely, this police officer was a control freak, or perhaps insane. Even if Darryl hadn’t used a turn signal, did it warrant this reaction? Nevertheless, he believed his friend. He knew from past experiences that Darryl’s normal speed frenzies didn’t happen when they’d been out drinking or partying about. He’d joked once years ago that he didn’t want to get pulled over by the cops in a white part of town.

  Darryl had his gaze fixed right ahead. The man didn’t look him in the eye and for the longest, he said nothing. Tristan spoke to him, asked questions, expressed his annoyance, but Darryl remained silent, still, as if stuck in time… unable to hear the outside world as it passed him by.

  “I want you to take out your phone, Tristan, and start recording,” he finally said, the words in almost a whisper.

  “But why would I need to record this? I mean, he’s wrong so if he writes you a ticket, then you’ll be fighting this shit in court.”

  Darryl turned to him slowly and smiled. It wasn’t his usual smile… It wasn’t a kind smile… It was the smile of a man who had been defeated and had given up before the fight even began.

  “You don’t get it, man. You don’t understand, Tristan. I didn’t change lanes without signaling. I knew as soon as he said those words that he targeted me. He only answered you because you’re White.”

  “Oh, Darryl, come on! That’s not true. The guy is just an asshole!”

  “No.” Darryl slowly turned away and shook his head. “This has happened to me before. I’m a Black man in a nice car, driving on a highway towards an upscale white part of town. Some of ’em don’t like that. They assume I don’t live here and if I do, then it must be from dirty money like drug trafficking. This is how it is, Tristan. Period.”

  Tristan just stared at his friend, his heart breaking on the man’s behalf. Sure, he’d heard Darryl mention things like this over the years, but to witness an actual incident, to be this up and close to it shook him to his core. Soon, Officer Benson returned.

  “Would you please step out of the car.” The cop didn’t ask; that was definitely a tone of command.

  Tristan slid his phone out of his pocket and hit record, placing it in the cup holder as Darryl opened the car door. He leaned against it as the cop felt all over his body, asking if he had weapons, drugs, things of that nature. He had Darryl turn around and face him after the frisk rendered nothing of importance.

  “Where are you coming from?” the cop asked Darryl.

  “Honey’s Lounge.”

  “Mmm hmmm. So, you’ve obviously been drinking tonight. I can smell it on your breath.”

  “I had just one beer, sir. I’m the designated driver.”

  Darryl’s voice isn’t slurred. He isn’t acting strange. My friend is completely sober.

  “I would like to search your car and give you a sobriety test.”

  “What?!” Darryl’s voice rose, a clear indication he wouldn’t accept this lying down. “Man, I’m not taking that test. I don’t look drunk to you and you know it and I’m not allowing you to search my car. Why do you want to? On what basis?”

  “What is going on?!” Tristan called out, his adrenaline now pumping.

  “You’ve been drinking, no turn signal, and driving very slowly, too.”

  “I don’t have anything,” Darryl continued, angry as hell. “I haven’t done anything! Again, I had only one beer. I did use my turn signal, I was going the exact speed limit and you know it! This is some bullshit.”

  Before Tristan knew it, the car violently rocked as Officer Benson slammed Darryl with brutal force against the side of the vehicle, face forward, and pinned his wrists behind his back.

  “Stop it!” Tristan yelled as he reached for the car door.

  “Stay seated in the damn car!” the cop screamed at him.

  Darryl yelled out, complaining that he was holding him too tight and his arms were hurting. The cop ignored him and radioed for backup.

  The sparkling beauty of the night flowed down the drain like gray grit and dark dirt. The memories were soiled. A sense of surreal horror overcame Tristan as he watched in vain, his heart
pounding so hard, it hurt. He screamed out, begging the cop to let his friend go, vouching for him, but his words fell upon deaf ears. The police officer regarded him several times with a strange look, a look of both understanding and confusion. Their blue gazes hooked onto each other while Darryl’s dark brown eyes sheened with angry tears. Pain and rage reigned on his best friend’s face, and yet, the man drew quiet when two more squad cars pulled up.

  “He was resisting,” Officer Benson explained. Lies upon lies upon lies rolled off the man’s tongue, so easily, as if this was an old hat for him, something he did every fucking day.

  “He wasn’t resisting! You wanted to illegally search his car. He said ‘no’ and you didn’t like that, so now here we are. You didn’t have probable cause! You didn’t find anything on him. No guns, no weed, no nothing. What the hell is wrong with you? This is outrageous! You can’t do this!” Tristan yelled, wanting to ensure he was heard loud and clear.

  “Sir, please step out of the car,” another office instructed.

  Tristan grabbed his phone, slid it inside his jacket pocket, and jumped at the chance to tell his side of things. Hopefully, this other guy would be the smart one of the bunch, a voice of reason. After three minutes of telling the cop what had happened, he realized that his rendition of the story didn’t seem to matter. He was literally patted on his shoulder as if he were a confused child or some poor victim, kidnapped and brainwashed by Darryl—stolen away from his homeland to go on some terrorizing joyride at knifepoint by an angry, insane, drugged out Black man who was playing chicken in the middle of the road, endangering hundreds of lives. In a flash, Darryl was hauled off to one of the squad cars and placed in the back seat.

  This can’t be real. I don’t believe this!

  “Wait, you’re leaving? Where are you taking him?”

  “Oakdale Police Station. Have you been drinking, too?” the police officer who’d asked him to step out questioned.

  “Yes, so I won’t be driving home in my friend’s car. But I will have it towed to my house tonight. ASAP.”