by Turner, Xyla
Who knew?
It did not bother me as much as it bothered Bernie. Well, she fell in love with his crazy ass anyway, before Trent switched parties. That was all him, and he did not even tell her because he wanted to make sure it was his decision and not her influence. Though, the fact he fell in love with her exposed him to some realities about her plight and those less fortunate than the silver spoon he was born with up his ass.
Duncan and I made it safely down the red carpet with reporters and others asking if our love was as passionate as that kiss. I had even read one blog that stated, “Senator Duncan Morgan can kiss me like that anytime he wants.”
That was the headline, and after I saw that, I laughed so hard. Big Red turned the tables on the media with the fact that he was on the spectrum, but then the headlines changed to how sexy Duncan was. The man was gorgeous though. Of course, he was not trying to be; he was simply hot as hell.
We found Bernie and Trent already inside, sitting at the table. She was smiling, while Trent was sitting partially in the seat next to her but leaning and whispering in her ear, while rubbing her very large belly. The smile on my best friend’s face was priceless. She was clearly in love, and so was he.
All the movers and shakers were milling around, trying to get the next deal, and here he was, making sure his woman was comfortable. I could not be any happier for her than she was for her own self. My girl deserved it. She just did.
“Hey, lovebirds.” I walked over and kissed the side of Bernie’s face that didn’t have Trent’s mouth on it.
“Hey, you made it,” she exclaimed with a bright smile on her face. “Girl, that is cute.”
I had on a thigh-length silver dress with sheer triangles on each of my sides, to show off my curves. The matching shawl was draped on one side of the dress, revealing a bare shoulder. My makeup had a natural feel, although I had matching eyeshadow and a glittery tone to my face. Not a lot, but in the light, one might notice a sheen that was done by watching several YouTube videos.
“Thanks, girl,” I replied with a wave to her very pregnant belly. “I see you look like you’ll drop that load any day now.”
“I know,” she huffed. “Trent’s trying to convince me that sex will help the baby come out because she will get sick of being jostled around in there.”
She rolled her eyes, and that is when Trent looked up and said, “Hey Portia. Tell her that sex is good.”
“Hey…”
I was cut off, when Duncan chimed in. “Sex is good. Very good.”
We all laughed as I turned and laid my head against his chest.
“Sex is good,” I followed up. “I’m with Duncan and Trent on this.”
“The fetus will not be injured, Bernie,” Duncan added. “It is a fact that pregnant women are more stimulated and hornier, thus rendering their partner the experience of hyper-sexual tendencies. There are also several positions that are best for pregnant women, which include side-by-side, spooning and the use of the couch.”
“My man, Duncan,” Trent exclaimed and stood up to go greet him with a strong shake of the hands. “Thanks, man.”
Bernie and I rolled our eyes, and then I sat down.
“So, this is the event you ran from when Trent knocked that guy’s teeth out?” I asked, dryly.
Bernie looked around and said, “Yeah, girl. I’m praying Porter’s ass isn’t here because Trent’s already said he would beat the shit out of him again. Whether he says something or not.”
I laughed, but she looked downright frightened that she might be bailing out her husband later.
“Well, I doubt he would come back to the place where he was totally embarrassed and had his teeth knocked out,” I said with confidence, not realizing Duncan had left until Trent returned.
“Where’s Duncan?” I asked when my friend’s husband sat back down in his original seat and put a possessive hand on Bernie’s stomach.
“He had a call. Somebody was at the entrance waiting for him.” He shrugged.
All of my alarms went off, and I got up to go find him. Right where the red carpet stopped, I saw him at the counter speaking with his secretary. The bitch, was dressed as if she was ready to put out. Her bottom was showing. She was petite with definite curves, usually covered up in the office by oversized clothes.
As I was making my way over, Erin looped her arms around Duncan’s shoulders, stood on her toes and pecked him on the mouth. This caused my step to falter, for a quick second. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Duncan quickly pulled away from her with a confused look. She, on the other hand, had the same look on her face. I was weaving through people to get to her, and I heard her say, “You didn’t bite my lip.”
As if she was genuinely shocked.
“What are you doing?” Duncan asked, trying to understand.
“She’s trying to seduce you,” I interjected and walked right up to him, so we were both facing her.
The girl had sense enough to be frightened. My face completely gave me away. I was not happy.
That the bitch had balls of steel was the understatement of the year. She got dressed up to bring her ass here to kiss my man because she thought he would bite her lip back? My head turned around, as I surveyed the room to see who was present and what I could get away with. Every paparazzi camera was focused on the red carpet, so they missed the kiss, and thank God for that. There were too many people milling around to kick her ass, but I almost did not care, until I heard Duncan say, “My fiancée will drag you out, so I suggest that you leave. On your own.”
He said that in his normal tone, not alarmed or even bothered. I nearly laughed as he had more sense of where I was mentally before I could even get there.
The doe-eyed bitch looked at me, nodded and scurried back behind the red carpet with her tail between her legs.
Duncan turned to me and said, “Are you okay?”
It was not clear why he was asking me that, when he was the one that was just mauled by his secret fan posing as his secretary. Half of me wanted to go find her crazy ass and show her what real crazy looked like.
“I want that bitch fired, Duncan,” I seethed through clenched teeth. “I try not to interfere in your business, but she just…”
“Conduct unbecoming,” he shared. “Those are grounds for dismissal.”
I nodded and took a deep breath. Though the tension had not left. Duncan’s hand grabbed mine, and he squeezed it hard. He was providing comfort in a public way, since us kissing caused so much controversy. Not that either of us really cared, but we still had a duty, especially him, as a United States Senator and as his girlfriend…. wait.
“Did you just call me your fiancée?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he replied. “You are my fiancée.”
“Duncan, I never said yes to your proposal,” I shared in hushed tones.
“Yes, you gave me a list of things to do before you would say yes, and those things happened; therefore, we are engaged.” He answered in that matter of fact way that he does.
“Duncan, that is not true. I never gave you a list and …” I was almost speechless with what he was saying, but I realized the way he took what I said versus what I actually said was the issue here.
“Yes, you met my entire family, including Mama, and you’ve seen me having a meltdown.” He replied as if he was checking off a list.
“Okay, Duncan.” I decided there was probably no arguing with his logic.
“You even told me that you want to have a baby by me, and I am still considering this,” he informed me as I scoffed at his interpretation of everything.
“Really, Duncan,” I gasped.
“Yes, really.” He squeezed my hand a bit more and then pulled me into him. “When you’re ready for your ring, please let me know.”
I tried to scoff again, but it came out as a laugh as I wrapped my arms around his waist and let him lead me back into the ballroom.
“Why did you tell her that I was going to drag her?” I asked, as
his specific words dawned on me.
It was the specific language that made me take pause, since it was not something that I had really said around him.
“Donna told me that you threatened to drag her.” He told me, as we neared our table where Trent and Bernie were still in their little bubble.
“You spoke to her?” I stopped walking, which brought us both to a halt.
“Yes, once.” He replied. “She called to inform me what a raving bitch you were to her and that you threatened to drag her. She stated you were a ghetto heifer who did not belong by my side and I should rid myself of you.”
My mouth was wide open as I listened to him recount the conversation that I had no idea about until now.
“What did you tell her?” I gasped, wishing I could really go to Rhode Island and follow through on my threat.
“I told her that you were mine.” Duncan said plainly.
“That’s it.” I asked.
“Yes.” He answered. “I told her that you would be my fiancée and then my wife. Therefore, she was not welcome into my life, and I did not want to hear from her anymore. Or her dragging could begin.”
My eyes blinked a few times, then I burst out laughing. “You do know that you can’t talk like that, Senator Morgan.” I reminded him. “I can, but you can’t.”
“Okay, if she calls again, I’ll transfer the call to your phone.” He informed me.
“Okay,” I said, fighting back a smile.
The rest of the evening seemed to be moving along smoothly, but I should have known that there was going to be a problem before we could leave safely. The tension in the air was still there, needless to say.
Towards the end of the affair, a shadow loomed above me as I chatted with Bernie about her pregnancy cravings. I turned to see Scott, Trent’s friend. A smile spread over my face, as recognition dawned on me. We had a brief fling, when Bernie and her now husband was dating, almost three years ago. Well, she was sleeping with Trent, and he clearly wanted more. Scott and I had sex a few times, and then he wanted to introduce me to his sister. That was a hell no.
“Hey, sexy stranger,” He greeted me. “Long time no see.”
“You too.” I rose and automatically gave him a hug.
This simple and easy hug became more, as he pulled me into his hard body. I forgot he was a gym nut. He wasn’t bulky, just very fit with a solid frame.
“Fuck,” I heard Trent hiss, but it was already too late.
I felt hands being ripped away from my body, and then I was jerked into another hard body.
“Not here,” Trent was trying to warn, but everything was moving too fast.
“She’s mine,” I heard growled above me, as I realized I was now in Duncan’s tight hold. “You do not hug or touch Portia in any way.”
“Duncan,” I was about to object, but the look in his eyes was fucking lethal.
This was the same man who kept the same tone about almost everything. He was this impenetrable force, unless he was to the point where he felt overwhelmed. I guess this was a trigger for him because he looked like he was about to drag Scott.
“What the fuck, man?” Scott snapped back. “Just catching up with an old friend.”
He was way too cavalier about the matter, which did not bode well. I was about to interject, when Duncan growled again, “She is mine. You do not touch her, hug her, or get within her personal space.”
I swear with every use of the word her, he was pulling me closer and closer into him.
It was Trent’s turn to interject, since he was standing behind us, facing the room. I guess he was trying to shield the fiasco.
“Come on, Scott. Let me get you a drink,” Trent said and moved towards his friend.
“Fuck a drink,” my former fuck buddy hissed back. “He just fucking touched me because I hugged a woman I used to sleep with.”
Ho-ly shit.
A low growl caused my body to vibrate, and I knew two things instantly. One, it was not me that was causing the vibration, and two, this would get no better.
“Fuck, man. This ain’t the goddamn time. He said he didn’t want you touching his woman; get your own fucking woman. That’s fucking it.” Trent all but picked up the man by one arm and escorted him, with Scott pushing him as if he were trying to come back.
Heads had already started to turn in our direction, but once Scott and Trent were gone, they went back to their regularly scheduled program. Duncan, on the other hand, was on edge. He still looked ready to murder someone.
“Duncan,” I called, since we were still standing up, and he was looking towards the dust of Trent and Scott. “Sweetheart, it’s okay.”
“I didn’t like him touching you, Portia.” His voice was still a little above a growl, as he breathed in and out at a steady pace. “He should not have hugged you. I do not want him to do that again. Do not let him.”
“Girl, maybe y’all should go. I’ll tell Trent.” Bernie whispered with her eyebrows up in shock.
I figured as much, too.
“Yeah, let’s go,” I pulled on his suit jacket, since he still had me in the death grip, with my front pasted to his side. “Between your secretary and my ex, we are both about to go to jail.”
This caused him to look at me, but the anger only dimmed an inch.
“Sweetheart?” I called again. “Let’s go home.”
He nodded, let me go, and grabbed my hand with a tight grip. Yeah, we would be alright, I thought as I quickly kissed Bernie, waving and grabbing my bag before my man dragged me out of there.
That evening, we broke the routine. Well, the whole stupid event did that anyway, but since he was able to release multiple times, it took some of the edge off, and he slept through the night.
A week later, while I was cooking breakfast on Saturday morning after our run, Duncan walked into the kitchen and announced, “You need to vacate your old apartment.”
That was random.
“Well, Good morning, sunshine.” I called to him in a sarcastic tone. “Nice to see you too.”
He gave me a look and said, “You just saw me in the shower when we had intercourse against the wall.”
I forgot.
No sarcasm.
“Yup, you’re right.” I smiled. “Now, what are you talking about with my old apartment?”
He gave me another incredulous look and said, “The one you’re still paying rent on. The one you visit after work before you come here. The one where you have your furniture and most of your clothes stored.”
Ahhh, that one. How could I forget? I shook my head at his logic.
“Yeah,” I commented.
“We are no longer in session, so I have to go back to Rhode Island. I want you here,” he shared.
How could I forget that he would be back and forth to the state that elected him? It’s amazing he was able to stay for this long of a stretch anyway. His mother was diligently helping him hire the staff at the district office, so I am sure that was a burden off of him. Yet, he was right. This notion of him going back and forth, I hadn’t thought through, but apparently, he had.
“I think if we talk at night, I may not have trouble sleeping,” he continued. “But you need to be here.”
“Duncan,” I laughed. “I do not need to be here. I don’t feel comfortable staying if you’re not here.”
I flipped the French toast with the spatula that was upside down on the side of the stove.
“What do you mean, you do not feel comfortable?” he asked. “Everything that you need is here. I have spoken to the landlord and shared that my fiancé, the pretty black woman I am always with, would stay at the place while I was away.”
I almost laughed because I knew he said just that.
“Listen, I know that you call me your fiancé, but Duncan, I have yet to say yes. I don’t wear a ring, and as you pointed out, I do have an apartment that I pay a hunk of rent on. So I should stay there.”
Instead of responding to me, the man nodded once and retrea
ted back to the bedroom. I almost followed him, but I didn’t want the food to burn. The cheesy eggs weren’t right just yet, and since he did not like them runny, and I didn’t like dry, I remained at the stove. Before they were complete, Duncan emerged with a stoic look on his face and said, “Here.”
My eyes slowly moved downward and saw a velvet box sitting in the middle of his large palm.
Again.
“What is this for?” I asked.
“So you will know that you are officially my fiancé,” he replied and pushed his hand forward, so I could take the box.
“Duncan, this is hardly a proposal.” I put one hand on my hip and gave him a smirk. “It is not at all romantic.”
Maybe I was being a bit bratty, but for something like this, I wanted romance. This is the story we would tell our kids, family and friends. Well, I guess this was the story now. I shook my head. Duncan left me again and this time, I didn’t panic. I knew he was coming back, since he had his own mission that he needed to catch me up on.
The eggs were done, so I moved them to our plates, along with the French toast and bacon, but the strawberries still needed to be cut. These were for me because he could not stand the texture of the seeds in his mouth.
Duncan emerged again, but this time, he only had an envelope in his hand.
“Here,” he nodded for me to take it. “In lieu of your father, since he is dead, I inquired of your mother. Here is her letter.”
What?
He did this behind my back. Why would he do that?
I snatched the letter out of his hand and began to rip it open while I asked, “You contacted my mother?”
“Yes,” he replied.
My eyes scanned the document, where I clearly saw my mother’s excessively, curly-styled handwriting. It read:
Dearest Senator Duncan Lee Morgan,
Greetings to you and thank you for your letter. As you have witnessed, my daughter and I do not have a relationship to speak of and, for both of us, that is okay. With that being said, I have seen the two of you in the news, on the red carpet and that kiss. This reminded me of my life with her father, and my late husband, Edward. He was the most caring man and doted on me beyond anyone’s imagination. They simply do not make them like they used to, because I know I will never get that in life again. She blames me, you know. He was her best friend. Always had been, and he was taken away and we both lost him.
