Turn It Loose

by Danielle, Britni

  “Wait…no one else is getting on? We get the whole thing to ourselves? Is that what you guys were talking about?”

  Johnny took a seat and patted the space next to him.

  “How did you pull this off?”

  “I explained you were visiting from America and I really, really wanted to be alone with you.” He shrugged. “And I gave him £100.”

  “You gave him £100?” she repeated as if she hadn’t heard him correctly.

  He put his arm around her shoulder. “It was worth it, don’t you think?”

  The city opened up before them as they inched higher into the sky. The Palace of Westminster, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, and the River Thames hovered below their feet. Despite the magnificent view, it paled in comparison to how Jaylah felt at that moment.

  She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said, almost whispering. “This is amazing.”

  She rose to get a closer look at the panoramic view and Johnny followed, pressing close to her.

  “I wanted to call you sooner. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It’s just,” he hesitated, “my life is so complicated right now.”

  She leaned into him and listened.

  “And…I felt silly about how the night ended. I just didn’t want to fuck up by rushing anything, innit? It sounds corny, but I didn’t want it to be a one off thing. I want to get to know you, Jaylah. I hope that’s cool.”

  She turned around and kissed him. “That’s fine with me.”

  Right there, above the clouds, Jaylah gave up.

  She let go of the idea that whatever was brewing with Johnny was just for kicks, and admitted what she’d been trying to push out of her mind all along—this could actually be something.

  Now she prayed that allowing him to see the real Jaylah wouldn’t backfire and leave her broken all over again.

  * * *

  “So is Johnny short for Jonathan?” she asked as they sat in the park near his office eating gelato. He’d called and asked if he could see her between meetings since the only thing they’d been able to do the past few days was play phone tag. Even though she was in the middle of writing an article due the following day she happily agreed.

  He nodded. “Jonathan Enam Poku.”

  “Does it mean anything special?”

  “Sort of. Both Jonathan and Enam mean ‘Gift from God.’”

  “Your parents were really happy to have you, eh?”

  “I guess so,” he chortled. “I have three sisters and I’m the only boy in the family. I guess they were a little excited when I was born. You know, carry on the bloodlines and all that.”

  “I bet your parents can’t wait for you to get married and have a bunch of kids,” she laughed. “An army of Pokus.”

  He shrugged. “My sisters all have children.”

  “Uh oh, you know what that means? The pressure’s on,” she elbowed him.

  Jaylah sensed a shift in his mood. She wondered if talking about his family was a sore spot.

  “You ok? You went quiet on me all of a sudden.”

  “I just miss them. I haven’t seen my family in about a year. Too busy working.”

  “You know what they say: all work and no play…kinda sucks,” she winked.

  He leaned over and wiped a smear of ice cream from the side of her lip. He let his finger linger and she licked it.

  Johnny had said he wanted to take things slow and she wondered how long she would have to wait to finally be with him. They had only gone out a couple of times and she was more than ready to let him round the corner and slide into home base.

  He gave her a quick peck. “I need to get back to the office. Are you free tonight?”

  “I think I have plans with my other boyfriend.”

  “Tell him you’re sick,” he smiled and kissed her again, this time with his tongue. “If I can get out early, want to grab dinner?”

  “Or, you can come to my place and I can whip something up,” she said, hoping he’d take the bait.

  “I wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble, especially on such short notice. I’ll let you know, ok?”

  “Sure.”

  Jaylah watched as Johnny walked out of the park and faded down the block. She took out her journal and started to write.

  Day 39, Canada Square Park

  Johnny just went back to work and I miss him already. Crazy, I know. I need to slow down, but it’s so easy to fall for him. I feel like a giddy teenager when he’s around. Just hearing his voice drives me fucking insane—in the best way possible, of course.

  We’re still in that I-could-talk-to-you-for-hours stage. Last night we fell asleep together on the phone. Apparently, I’m 17 all over again. There’s only one down side: he wants to “take things slow,” which means the only thing I get to touch are his lips.

  I know I should be happy he wants to get to know me and blah blah blah, but I want to be with him so bad. It’s literally almost all I can think about. The other day I was trying to work on an article about this shoemaker in Camden Market and all I could picture was Johnny molding me into all manner of ungodly positions.

  I got it BAD and we’ve only been out a few times. We click, though. We’re completely in sync (except for the not sleeping together thing). What a cruel twist, don’t you think? I finally find a best friend and a man I can’t seem to get enough of, but there’s one catch: They’re in a whole different country than the one I actually live in!

  What’s up with that, God? Neither of these things could’ve been available stateside? Amazing men and cool-ass white sisters/friends can’t happen in L.A.?

  *Insert heavy sigh*

  Johnny doesn’t know I’m leaving yet. I didn’t know when (or how?), or even if, I should tell him. Truthfully, I try not think about it. I was talking to my mother the other day and I told her I wasn’t ready to come home. Of course, she’s not feeling the idea of her only child living 5,000 miles away, but if I could pull it off, she’d just have to deal with it.

  In the meantime I need to figure out a way to delicately drop the “I’m moving back to L.A. at the end of next month” bomb on Johnny without completely fucking things up.

  I really wish I could stay, but the immigration laws look impossible. I spent two hours searching the UK customs site before I gave up. It’s pretty hopeless.

  I mean, I can stretch my time here to about six months—at most—providing I can keep my apartment, but then they’d be kicking my butt out. I even considered the possibility of just returning home every six months when the tourist visa runs out, but that would be costly and I’m not even sure it would work. Would they catch on to my scheme? Would they ban me from entry? There are just way too many unknowns.

  Of course, all of this could be resolved if Glamour would bring me on full time and vouch for me, but Hillary hasn’t dropped any hints about that happening. So far she just keeps saying she loves my voice, but does she love it enough to hook me up with an actual job? I’m not sure.

  If I can’t win the lottery or manifest a jillion pounds in the bank, I’m screwed.

  It doesn’t seem fair. At all. Things are finally working out for me and I have to leave in seven freaking weeks. I’m still going to pray for a miracle, though. So far God’s had my back. I just hope He still does.

  * * *

  Jaylah lay in bed thinking about the previous night. Johnny called when he was about to leave the office to see if she wanted to meet for dinner. “Why don’t you just come here?” she asked, promising a home cooked meal. Again he declined, insisting he didn’t want her to go to any trouble. She suspected he just didn’t want to be alone in her flat; his excuses could not save him then.

  By all accounts Johnny was into her, she thought. He’d call to say hello, send her “just thinking abt u” texts in the middle of the day, and looked at her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world. But still, he held back, and it bothered her.

  After dinner, they ambled through Clerkenwell looking in shop windows a
nd discussing plans for the weekend. “Pencil me in for Saturday evening,” he had said, grinning, claiming he had a surprise up his sleeve. Happiness crept through her body and she reached out for him.

  They got halfway down the block when his phone rang. “Hey. Yeah, I just finished dinner,” he said before stepping away to take the call.

  A few minutes later, he returned with a somber look on his face. Again, Jaylah reached for his hand, but instead of continuing down the crowded street with interlaced fingers, he quickly slipped his hands into his pockets and walked by her side.

  A small rebuke, or perhaps he didn’t notice her tiny display of public affection. She wasn’t sure, but it definitely stung.

  “Everything ok?” she asked, noticing the shift in his mood.

  “Yeah yeah. Just a bit tired. This deal I’m working on is taking its toll. Ready to head home?”

  She wasn’t ready to leave, but agreed to call it a night. Something was bothering him, but Jaylah didn’t want to press the issue or upset him further. She couldn’t risk a rift, her heart was already wishing for a happily ever after.

  They rode in silence and he dropped her off with little more than a lazy kiss and a promise to call in the morning.

  “How typical,” Jaylah said aloud, chiding herself for the sheer volume of thoughts she devoted to Johnny each day. Analyzing their conversations for hidden meaning, trying to figure out his moods, wondering if he liked her as much as she liked him. She felt like she was back in high school. Did Johnny want to go steady? Was he her man? Were they just friends? She wished it were as simple as slipping him a note that read, “Want to be my boyfriend? Circle one: Yes, No, Maybe.”

  She toyed with the idea of texting him the question, but quickly brushed it aside. It would make her seem desperate, and probably a little bit crazy. But more than anything she was afraid of what he might say. “I need to get out of here,” she sighed, “There’s got to be something else I can do beside sit here pining over that man.”

  Before she could think it through she pulled on a pair of jeans and a blouse, and headed out the door. She was determined to do something, anything that would keep her mind off Johnny today.

  Jaylah hurried through the courtyard of her building to the train station. She marveled at just how clever it was to turn a soccer pitch into Highbury Square’s expansive garden. Johnny loves soccer, she thought, wondering if she should surprise him with tickets to a game. Then she pinched herself hard, a punishment for letting her mind wander to him.

  She breezed into the Tube station and headed down to the platform. As she waited, she wondered what Johnny was doing at that exact moment. Pinch. Was he thinking about her? Pinch. Did he miss her? Pinch. Would she see him tonight? Pinch. Pinch. Pinch. She was determined to break herself from thinking about him today.

  But it wasn’t working. Not even close.

  * * *

  Piccadilly Circus was crammed with sightseers gawking at the illuminated signs and for once Jaylah was annoyed. She had crossed over from being a tourist to full-fledged Londoner and being stuck behind elderly Asian travelers snapping pictures on Regent Street was not her idea of a good time.

  But it did get her mind off of him—just for just a minute.

  As she inched along the crowded thoroughfare she brainstormed ways to extend her stay. She had just seven weeks remaining and the thought of leaving made her ill. To her surprise, she was actually building a life in London and she wasn’t willing to just roll over and give it up without a fight.

  Jaylah set a reminder in her phone to ask Amelia if she could prolong her stay in the flat for an additional three months, and she vowed her articles for Glamour would have them begging for more.

  By the time she walked the half-mile from Piccadilly Circus to Trafalgar Square Jaylah had a plan. She would pitch Hillary an idea for a column—sort of an American girl’s take on London—that would incorporate her signature snappy style, hunger to learn about the city, and her knack for scoring sought-after interviews. With her stuffed Rolodex and a little hustle, she wagered the column would prove she was not only a great journalist, but also someone Glamour needed to keep on staff. Although she hated to admit it, her years at the L.A. Weekly had taught her how to generate a ton of buzz and get readers interested in what she had to say. Only this time she’d be able to write about things she actually cared about, not the senseless drivel she churned out back home.

  Jaylah’s phone buzzed, knocking her out of her thoughts. It was Johnny.

  “Hey, can’t wait to see you tomorrow night,” he texted.

  She smiled in spite of herself. I guess he was thinking about me after all, she thought as she typed in a hurried reply. “Me too. How’s work?”

  “Swamped,” he responded quickly. “The worse is almost over, though.”

  “Nice. Too bad you can’t sneak out, it’s actually warm.”

  “Where are u?”

  “Trafalgar Square. Might go to the Portrait Gallery.”

  “Lucky. Have a good time.”

  “Thanks. Don’t work too hard, Mr. Poku.”

  “I’ll try not to,” he wrote before firing off another message, “miss me?”

  If you only knew, she snickered to herself, her smile spreading all the way to her heart.

  * * *

  “Wow! You look…amazing,” Johnny said when Jaylah opened the door wearing a scarlet Bodycon dress that hugged every inch of her figure while still managing to look elegant. Her hair was pulled into a sleek topknot, and she wore the highest pair of stilettos she owned.

  “Thank you,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “I just need to get my bag. Make yourself at home.” She ran to the bedroom to give herself the onceover and throw the outfits she tried on and discarded into the closet—just in case.

  “10…9…8…7…6,” she counted aloud, trying to calm down. “Chill, Jay, chill,” she told herself.

  Jaylah shook out her hands and breathed deeply to calm the storm brewing inside her. Tonight had to be perfect—no breakdowns, awkward memories, or mixed messages allowed. Just she and Johnny and whatever surprise he kept going on about. She steadied herself before walking in to meet him.

  “Ready?” she asked as he looked around the living room.

  “Let it go?” he said pointing to the note near her computer, “what does that mean?”

  “Oh…just a reminder. A mantra of sorts,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “To stay in the moment and not overthink things like I usually do,” she hoped he bought her explanation. “Anyway, ready?”

  “I see,” he said before crossing the room and wrapping her in his arms. He peered into her eyes, grazed her nose with his, and kissed her. “Now, I’m ready.”

  Jaylah hoped he really meant it; she’d been ready.

  * * *

  As soon as she saw the pinkish-purple sign on the marquee, Jaylah squeezed his hand. She had wanted to see Fela! for months, but missed the musical the last time it passed through L.A. She had mentioned it to him in passing during one of their marathon phone sessions and was pleasantly surprised and impressed he was not only paying attention, but had gotten tickets to the popular show.

  “You remembered,” she said, beaming as they walked through the Art Deco lobby of the Adelphi Theatre. He kissed the back of her hand and led her to their seats near center stage.

  Jaylah looked around the theater and marveled at the opulent gold and red interior that seemed to glow under the lights. Theatergoers tapped their feet and the room buzzed with conversation as West African drums blared through the speakers. When the lights dimmed and the house band took the stage, Johnny squeezed her knee and let his hand linger on her thigh.

  “Have you seen it before?” she asked.

  “Nope. First time. But I’ve heard good things.”

  This was a good sign, Jaylah thought; they were experiencing something else for the very first time—together. Their ride on the London Eye had been a first, as
was dinner at Pétrus. Sitting next to him in the darkened theater she hoped they’d break another barrier back at her apartment after the show.

  When the dancers took the stage, Jaylah was mesmerized by their energy. They told Feli Kuti’s story of persecution and triumph, heartbreak and sheer genius through each movement of their bodies, which never seemed to stop gyrating and contorting into a bevy of sensual positions.

  She couldn’t help getting turned on. Between the nonstop beat, the shirtless men, and the long-legged, gorgeous women—she wanted to run home and make love to Johnny like they were the last two people on the earth.

  “Oh my God,” she said as they walked through the West End back to his car, “That was….hot. I want to run out and take an African dance class. I need to learn how to move like that.”

  “You’ve got some pretty good moves already,” he said, grinning.

  “I could always use a few more tricks,” she lowered her voice to a sexy whisper, “you know, for those private moments.”

  They let the air thicken between them as Johnny seemed to mull over her last remark.

  When they got to the parking garage, he pressed her up against the car door instead of opening it and allowed his hands to travel the length of her dress. He traced her face and then her lips with his thumb. When it hovered over her mouth, she slipped his finger inside and sucked it slowly. An invitation.

  Johnny kissed her then, hard and urgent, with a sense of longing he’d never quite shown before. As he hungrily consumed her mouth he cupped her breasts through the fabric of her dress, causing her nipples to stiffen beneath.

  She wanted to rip his suit off and screw him right there, but the chirp of a nearby alarm reminded them they were in public.

  They jumped in his car and Johnny shot out of the garage and down the street like a man possessed. As they drove, he slid his hand between her thighs and began to massage her. She grabbed his arm and leaned into his touch.