Chasing Darien ~ J.M. Stoneback

by Stoneback, J. M

  I ignore his question and tuck my phone back into my Harley Quinn purse and glance out the window. The tall buildings flash by in a blur. Honestly, I don’t know if I want to go to the mediation with him. He could be telling me the truth about him divorcing his wife. Is he getting a divorce because she doesn’t want him? Or was it his choice? If I can get a clear understanding of their relationship then maybe that will determine if I’m going to be with him. Gunner knows him better than I do, and Gunner would kill him if he knew that Darien was with his wife. Gunner wouldn’t approve of our relationship.

  The driver stops in front of Babies ‘R’ Us, and I tell him that we will be an hour.

  In the store, I grab a purple buggy and we throw in a few baby outfits, diapers, wipes. We pick out a chestnut bedroom set with Little Mermaid décor, sheets, and drapes.

  “Alana, what’s going on?” Crystal asks, pushing the buggy. It’s the day after Christmas and sales are through the roof. Everyone in the store is acting like a wild animal. Two women fight over a box of diapers. I don’t know why Crystal picked this day to go shopping.

  “What do you mean?” I ask as I pick out a baby high chair.

  “Are you sad because of Cole? If thi—”

  I wave my hand, shutting her up. I might never get over Cole’s death, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be there for my friend. “No. Darien and I got into a fight last night,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek.

  “About what?” She stops, leans against the handle of the buggy, breathing in and out. “God, the baby just kicked the shit out of me.”

  “Do you need to sit down?”

  She shakes her head and pushes the buggy.

  I let out an exhale and say, “Darien is still legally married.”

  Reality hits me like a ton of bricks. I feel like I’m in a fake relationship.

  “No way. Shut up!” Crystal frowns. “Do we need to do an A and C mission again? We can put Kool-Aid in his tank.”

  “It’s not what you think.” Geez, I’m repeating what he said to me.

  “What is it?”

  A lady opens up a register, and we hurry up and rush to her line. The cashier asks us if we found everything we needed and we both say yes.

  “He said they have been separated for two years and that he has to meet with her Thursday to finalize the divorce or something like that and he wants me to come to prove to me that he is not lying.”

  When Charles and I were going through our divorce, we didn’t divide assets. I told him that I didn’t want anything from him. Let him have the house and the two cars. I took all my names from the bank accounts. When he broke things off with me at the bistro, I never set foot in our two-story home again. Too many horrible memories.

  “You should go! Find out the scoop on what’s going on. If he invited you to go, then he must not be lying about the situation.”

  The cashier scans the items, and the total comes to seven hundred dollars and twenty-three cents. Since I’m the godmother, I pay for everything. Tristan dumps the stuff in the trunk, and we get into the car.

  “It’s the lying I don’t like, Crystal. If he lies about something this big, he will lie about something else. That’s how all cheaters start off.”

  Charles used to lie all the time just so he could get some ass from Rebecca. Smeared lipstick and faint perfume on his clothes and he told me that it was ketchup and fabric softener. Too depressed to use my head, I let it go. Man, I was such an idiot.

  “He’s not Charles. Yes, he lied, but in the beginning, you weren’t tryna be with him, so why does it matter?” She rubs her belly and frowns.

  I rest my head on the back of the seat. “I feel like our whole relationship was a lie and, to be honest, it never felt like we were using each other for sex.”

  “Alana, you’re expecting to have a perfect relationship, but in reality, not all relationships are perfect. I mean look at Clarence and me, we had a messy start, but we are trying to work things out.”

  Shocked, I feel the lines deepen on my forehead. “Wait a second. You and Clarence are speaking again?”

  She gives me a mega smile, flashing me the gap between her front teeth. “He apologized for abandoning me, and we decided to start over. I love Clarence, we’ve been together for a year and I don’t want to give that up. So you should give Darien a try.” She pats my knee.

  My heart feels like it has been through a grinder, and right now, I don’t know if I can face Darien.

  I whip out my phone from my bag and send Gunner a message.

  Me: Why didn’t you tell me Darien is married?

  Big Bro: ?

  Me: You didn’t know he was married???

  Big Bro: Yeah. Thought you knew.

  Me: NO.

  Big Bro: He’s divorcing Mia. They haven’t been together for a couple of years.

  Guess he was telling the truth. Huh? That doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t tell me about it.

  Me: Why are they divorcing?

  Big Bro: You should ask him yourself. Do I need to kick his ass? Did he hurt you?

  Me: No.

  Big Bro: Good. I like Darien.

  Me: Something must be wrong with him if you like him.

  Big Bro: Lol. He’s rich and knows how to treat a woman.

  I smile at that text message.

  Me: I’m having a baby shower at your place for Crystal, I’ll hit you up when I’m ready to throw it.

  Big Bro: OK. Cool.

  After dropping Crystal off at Clarence’s house, I tell Tristan to drive me to Woodland Cemetery. Normally, I visit Cole on holidays and birthdays, but with Mr. Adam being sick and everything blowing up with Darien, I haven’t had a chance to visit. I stroll through the cemetery as snow covers my black Converse. The wind blows, making the crisp air colder.

  Warm fresh tears spill down my cheeks. I wish I could say that the pain goes away and it gets easier, but it doesn’t. Every time I’m out here, looking at my son’s grave, I’m filled with a dull ache in my heart that will never go away. The hole in my chest grows bigger and bigger and reminds me that I failed as a mother.

  The first three months after his death I used to come out here every day, telling him stories, giving him updates on my life, but I stopped because Charles said it wasn’t healthy. Now my feet come to a halt at the gray marble grave site. Taking my numb fingers from my pockets, I wipe the snow from the top of the tombstone. Geez, I hate the fucking cold. No matter how many layers of clothing I wear, I still freeze my tits off.

  The tomb says, “Cole Charles Tucker.” That was my married name before I got it changed back to my maiden name. I wipe the tears from my eyes.

  “Hey, Cole.” I choke out the words. “Sorry I didn’t come by yesterday. My friend’s father wasn’t well, and he wanted me to sit with him at the hospital. Hope you are not mad at me.”

  Silence falls, and the chilly breeze tickles my cheeks. Birds chirp loudly. The sun hangs high in the sky, but not enough to get rid of this godawful cold. I blow warm air into my hands and rub them together.

  “Guess what? Grandma married Harold, can you believe that? I’m happy for her, and I hope you are.”

  No matter how much I speak to him, he is never coming back. My chest tightens and aches with a pain that I’m familiar with. I miss him so much.

  “Anyways, I hope that Grandpa Cole is taking good care of you and I miss you so much and love you.” I grab the small Paw Patrol stuffed animal from my brown coat and place it next to the frostbitten lilies. “Merry Christmas, my bumblebee,” I whisper, blinking back the tears that are overflowing like a waterfall. I wrap my arms around the tombstone, pressing my right cheek against the icy stone until it burns.

  “I-I-I’m s-o-o s-s-orry I-I failed you. S-so s-sorry I couldn’t save you. I failed you as a mother, and I wish I could make it up to you.” I swallow the lump the size of a basketball in the back of my throat. “F-f-orgive me, p-please.” I kiss the tombstone.

  Darien

&nbs
p; MEN DO CRAZY shit when they are in love, like ask their driver where he drove their girlfriend for the last two days.

  Apparently, the day before yesterday, she went to the store and a grave site. Yesterday, she went to the grocery store, and that was it. Might need to speak to a shrink about my stalking tendencies.

  I sit at a sturdy brown table with Chris, waiting for my soon-to-be ex-wife to walk through the wide double doors so we can get this shit over with. Chris pushes his glasses up on his nose as he taps away on his phone.

  I thought Alana would show up and support me, so I could prove to her that I wasn’t lying. Turns out I was wrong. I sent her a message reminding her of the date and time, but she didn’t respond. Congratulations to me on being the world’s most fucked-up boyfriend.

  Mia and an older woman barge into the room and take their seat across from us. The little devil—my wife—wears a purple blouse with a black pencil skirt and a black beanie slumped on her head. She flashes me her dingy yellow teeth as if she’s won this battle. She is so wrong.

  My lawyer starts off discussing the assets I had before I met Mia. Two condo buildings, three beach homes—one in Palm Beach, one in Miami, and one in Ocean City—the D&D bank, three cars, and stocks and bonds. Then he states the stuff that I bought after I married her: a few investments and American Banking, which I just purchased. Belle discusses Mia’s assets that she had before she married me, a condo and a car. She didn’t purchase a lot of shit while we were married, but it was designer shit.

  “My client doesn’t want to settle. She wants to go to court,” Belle, her lawyer, says. She twists an anchor necklace between her fingers. Three lines sprout from the corners of her brown eyes as she frowns.

  “My client will let her keep the condo and that’s it,” Chris says.

  “No,” Belle says, tucking a gray strand behind her ear. Her eyes narrow at me. I want to slap both women silly. Not about to give her half of my empire. Mia smirks. She thinks she’s won the war, but she hasn’t.

  “Let’s discuss this in private,” I say, gritting my teeth. Mia looks at me and to her lawyer. Chris cocks his eyebrow at me.

  “Sure,” she says, plastering a fake smile on her face.

  Both of the lawyers leave.

  “I’m not changing my mind,” the little devil says, picking lint from her blouse. “I deserve half of the money, Darien.”

  What new drug is she snorting? She must be high as fuck if she thinks that I’m going to give her my money. Entitled little brat.

  “I need to be compensated for pain and suffering.”

  “Pain and suffering?” I tap my finger on the table.

  “I wouldn’t have to do so much coke if I wasn’t married to you. You did this to me with your possessiveness and controlling ways.”

  Her words don’t even hurt. Maybe it would have a few years ago, but not now. This heart and dick belong to someone else. I can’t stand this woman. Even her breathing is pissing me off.

  “Sorry for trying to help you. You know what? Fuck you.” I reach into my breast pocket, taking out photos and laying them on the brown table. “If you try to take me to court, I’m going to leak these photos on the internet, and I’ll make sure that no agent will sign you.” My voice is cold, like Antarctica.

  She picks up one photo with shaky hands, and her face goes white as a sheet of paper.

  “W-where did you get this?” Her voice breaks. It’s a picture of her snorting coke off another man’s dick. She picks up another picture of her sucking another man’s dick while another is fucking her from behind.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “This is blackmail.” I hear the hurt in her tone, and tears leak from the corners of her eyes.

  “Call it negotiation.” My tone is flat.

  She tosses the pictures to the side as if they’re burning her freshly manicured hand.

  “I could have you arrested,” she whispers, and those black, deep, rich eyes meet mine. She looks at me as if I’m the scum of the fucking earth, and right now, I am—at least in her eyes. Thought her little ass was going to come in here and walk away with half of something she didn’t work for.

  “Actually, you can’t, because I’ll make sure that it won’t trace back to me. And, if you win the case and take half the money, those pictures will always be up and people will always know you as the person who sucked dick for a bag of rocks. Good luck on trying to sign to an agent.” She cries harder at my words, and I got her attention. “If you stop crying like a brat, I’ll let you keep the condo and your Porsche and all that designer shit that you love.”

  She doesn’t respond, and the door creaks open. I take the pictures and stuff them back in my breast pocket. Chris and Belle come in, take their seats, and I clear my throat.

  “I-I want the condo and my Porsche, that’s all,” Mia says.

  Little miss Belle’s eyes damn near pop out of her sockets and she says, “You sure? We can nail him if you want to.”

  Mia’s eyes meet mine, and I keep a straight face.

  “Positive.” Mia’s voice breaks.

  Chris slides the papers across the table, and her hands shake as she signs the papers. She grabs her Michael Kors purse and excuses herself from the table. I sigh as relief floods my chest.

  Belle turns her view to us, tapping her heels against the ugly green carpet, and says, “Once the papers are notarized by the judge then I’ll send them to you.” Her eyes cut me like daggers.

  Am I scum of the earth for what I did?

  Absolutely.

  Do I feel guilty for blackmailing my wife into walking away from five hundred million dollars? Absolutely fucking not.

  In the words of Rose Royce, love don’t live here anymore. Chris grabs the manila folder from the table and tucks it under his arm and we shake hands, parting ways. I make my way to the lobby and find Alana slouching in the black plastic chair. Her white hoodie is zipped up to her neck, and her hair is tucked under a Hello Kitty hat. Her white jeans look like they are painted on her. I walk to her and tap her on the shoulder. Her eyes grow wide, and she wipes the drool from her mouth with her sleeve.

  “Is it over with? I’m sorry I’m late. Got out of orientation late.” She stretches her legs out and yawns. I yank her up on her feet and kiss the shit out of her. I missed the fuck out of this woman, can’t wait to bury my dick between her legs. She pulls away, breathing heavily, and I wrap my arms around her shoulders, meshing my body with hers.

  “Yeah, and it’s fine. I signed the papers.”

  “We need to talk, Darien,” she says, biting her pinky nail.

  “I know. We’ll talk at my place. Need to check on my father.” He has been in and out of sleep for the last few days. He says he is feeling better, but I don’t know—kinda worried about him. I left him at the condo with Jade.

  I tap the button on the elevator and the door whistles open and we step in and head downstairs.

  Back at my condo, I unbutton my jacket and hang it on the coat rack. Jade sits on the couch with a cup of coffee in her hand, eyes glued to the screen. She waves at us and tells me that she gave my dad his medication.

  I grab Alana by the arm and take her to my office, shutting the door behind me. She makes her way to the cream couch across from the desk and pops her feet under her butt, and I sit next to her. She glances at the old, carved wooden bookcase. It looks out of place in the sleek, modern décor. This is the only room I unpacked because I need it for work.

  “Darien, if we are going to be together then we can’t hide secrets from each other.” She bites her plump pink lips.

  “I know. Should have told you about Mia and I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I say truthfully.

  “Promise me you won’t keep secrets from me. That if we have a problem, we will talk to each other.” I hear the fear in her voice.The fear that I caused. Don’t want her to worry or think that I’m keeping shit from her.

  “Promise. You need to promise me that when things get bad you don�
�t run from me.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Yes, you do. You ran from me when we had sex at Gunner’s house, you were distant after I ate you out at the gala, and you ran from me after you found out that I was married.” I exhale. “I’m gonna fuck up in the relationship. I’m not perfect.”

  “I’m not expecting you to be, just want you to be upfront with me.” She nestles next to me, lying on my chest. God, she smells divine, something fruity or floral. I tilt her chin up so my eyes meet hers, and I kiss the bridge of her nose.

  “My mom left me in a trash can when I was four months old, and she didn’t want me. My ex-wife always chose drugs over me. I might not be good enough for them, but I want to be good enough for you.” Hurt stretches in my chest and my bottom lip quivers. Hate sharing my feelings. She strokes my cheeks. I don’t need her pity. She throws her arms around my neck and plants kisses on my face, squeezing the life out of me.

  “You are more than enough, Darien. You”—she kisses my forehead—“are”—kisses my chin—“enough.” She kisses my lips. “Don’t ever say that again. You’re my Orpheus.” Her voice is sweet as honey, and she kisses my lips.

  Alana

  NEW YEAR’S CAME and went, and we spent it in New York City, rented a hotel and got shit-faced and fucked like rabbits. He poured his heart out about Mia and how she tried to bleed him dry, and he blackmailed her into signing the divorce papers. He thought I was going to judge him, but I didn’t. Darien puts on the exterior that he is not hurting, but I think he has anger at her that he isn’t addressing. But what do I know? I’m not a therapist.

  Glad we were able to move past that. I still worry that he is hiding stuff from me, but so far nothing has popped up.

  I start school next week, so it’s my last week at the strip joint. I’m running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Crystal called out tonight, so I’m working her section and mine. Drunk men are packed in here and Tony, the owner, kicked some of them out because they were grabbing and touching the strippers inappropriately. I’m ready to get off and crawl into bed with Darien.