Between My Thighs: An Urban Erotic Tale (14 page)

Three years passed after the incident when I got his call. Realizing who it was, I told him I wasn’t home even though he knew it was me. I intended to call him back, but the day never came. He was murdered the day after he contacted me in a park with some lady. They had been smoking ganja when some little punks walked up and blew his ass away. They robbed him. He gave them everything, but it wasn’t enough. One of those trigger-happy niggas fired, and it was over.

“What happened to you?” I asked when I saw Troy.

“Some domestic shit,” he said. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” I told him, stepping aside for him to enter.

Troy cleaned himself up in the bathroom. He showered and joined me in the living room. I had candles and scented oil burning. I was drinking a glass of wine, just relaxing.

“It smells nice in here. Should you be doing that?” he asked.

“Doing what?” I replied.

“Drinking?” he asked again.

“I don’t see why not,” I said.

“You’re pregnant. That’s why not,” he responded.

It was strange. For that brief period of time Troy seemed like he cared.

“I lost the baby, Troy,” I said, finishing my glass of wine.

“When? What happened?” he asked.

Troy was sad. He looked miserable, but it wasn’t the news of my loss that had him shook.

“A few days ago. Guess it was stress. I had a miscarriage. Since then I’ve been feeling overwhelmed, and my blood pressure has been up,” I said.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he said.

“Don’t sweat it. Shit happens,” I replied.

It angered me how Troy responded when I informed him about the pregnancy. Hell, I was upset how his ass had been dodging in and out of my life. I told him how I felt about that too. For some odd reason, we connected.

“I haven’t done right by you, Raquel, and I’m sorry. You’ve been in my corner from the start, yet I treat you like these bitches out here who only are interested in using me.”

Troy was correct. I was never out for his money. I loved him in spite of his flaws—and he had many.

“I should have been there for you with the pregnancy. I’m so used to women getting abortions that I never thought it wasn’t an option for you,” he said.

“What happened to you tonight?” I asked him.

“Some domestic shit with my kid’s mother. She found my cell phone bill. Had your phone number highlighted throughout the whole thing. She asked who you were and I told her, mentioned you were pregnant, and she snapped. Started yelling, said I was leaving my family for some pussy. Next thing I knew, she grabbed a steel pipe and hit me with it.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that,” I said.

He never talked much about his relationship with his children’s mother. When we first met, he led me to believe he had one child when actually he had three with two different women. His son Trey was sixteen, and his daughters Janelle and Carmen were fifteen and four. Truthfully, I never inquired. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to know, but I tried to guard my feelings and how close I got to Troy emotionally. Knowing more than I wanted to about his past could be more detrimental than the relationship already was.

“I’m at this turning point in my life. I want someone in my corner I can trust,” he said.

I wasn’t sure where he was going with the discussion, but I listened intently as he went on.

“Maybe we can start over. Do it right this time,” he said.

“I don’t know about starting over, Troy. I’m very confused mentally right now. I don’t want a man who fucks me when get gets ready, stays out all night, and comes in and out of my life. Troy, I need someone who respects me, can put a ring on my finger, and dedicate his life and love to me, exclusively. I’ll never have that with you.”

“Marry me, Raquel.”

I was flabbergasted when he proposed. This had to be another one of his games, “Come again?” I said. Troy could see the resistance and bitterness that flared within me.

“Yes. I’m not trying to be alone. I want someone to love,” he said.

“We can’t get married. We’re moving in different directions,” I told him. “Matter fact, you don’t even like me.”

“Girlfriend, you’re nuts. Your love is to die for. I’ve held my feelings back from you so long because I was in a bad place with my family. I didn’t want to bring that drama around you. It’s never been personal, the shit that I’ve done in our relationship. I want to start fresh.”

“I don’t think so, Troy. There’s just been so much to happen between us. I just—”

He interrupted me and got down on one knee. I started to breathe heavily as he took my hand. “What are you doing?” I asked him.

“I want you to be my wife,” he said, pulling out a three-carat princess-cut diamond ring set in platinum. “I promise to do right by you,” he said.

My mind was telling me not to accept the ring, but my heart overruled. I loved Troy, “The ring is beautiful.” Tears formed in my eyes when I reflected on the moments we’d shared.

“You don’t have to answer now, but keep this ring,” he said, sliding it on to my ring finger.

I was at a loss for words. We didn’t fall back into our old routine of fucking. That night was different. Instead, he held me in his arms, and we cuddled. We kissed softly and passionately throughout the night like when we first met. Troy always came back strong. Once again, he walked back into my life. I let my heart take a chance to be loved by him.

• • •

Cleaning house wasn’t easy. I wanted to keep in touch with some of the men in my life, but I was marrying Troy and had to close up shop.

For years I’d detached myself emotionally from the men with whom I had sex. I knew how to be a faithful woman—committed to one man, just had refused until this point. If I was going to honestly give it a shot as Troy’s wife, all the sleeping around ended here.

Once Troy’s baby mama Cynthia found out about our engagement, she took Troy to court for child support. He had given her and those two kids everything, and now she was being vengeful. She had been calling my house looking for him. She was so bold she showed up outside one day. She had installed a tracking device on Troy’s Lexus so she knew where I lived. Fortunately, she didn’t know what I looked like, but I’d seen her before driving past my crib in his car.

When Troy left, he originally took the Lexus with him. Since he had two cars, he gave it back so his kids wouldn’t be stranded and suffering from the bullshit she created. When I saw the Lexus cut my corner one day, I knew what was up.

Cynthia was crazy. She didn’t even show up for court after all that shit to get him there. She had called my house looking for Troy before he gave her back the ride, said he stole it and was reporting him to NYPD. That’s when I found out about the illegal shit Troy had in his possession.

We were sitting in my living room on the sofa. Troy was cooking some oxtails for himself and broiling salmon for me. He was rubbing my stomach, playing in my hair, filling me in on the details of his day in court.

“The judge said it was good I showed up. Strengthened my case should she come back with something else.”

“I’m glad things worked favorably for you in court. So, what type of illegal shit you had in your ride?” I asked him, sounding like a real Brooklyn girl. My dialect had adapted quickly, blending in with the native New Yorkers. It didn’t matter if I was in the company of West Indians, Mexicans, or Americans, my lingo mimicked my surroundings.

“Just some shit that could jeopardize my freedom,” he stated.

I couldn’t imagine what that might have been. I knew he didn’t push street pharmaceuticals. Too many people close to him had died or had their lives ruined messing with that shit. His daddy used to be the kingpin before he got saved by the Holy Ghost. That’s why Troy didn’t have any religion. He lost it somewhere along his journey. I kept praying it would return. I pressed the issue. “Straight talk, Troy. What kind of shit did you have?”

“Artillery,” he said. “Nothing serious. The police didn’t need to pull me over and find that in my ride with my suspended license.”

“You need to get that shit straight with your license. How much you owe the DMV?”

“Twenty thousand dollars.”

“Damn. For what?”

“Tickets. Parking my commercial vehicles in residential areas, you know the bullshit.”

“Oh, they are locking your ass up if you get stopped,” I said, laughing.

Troy and I were in a euphoric state. He’d ended his more-than-friends relationship with Cynthia and I’d come out of my protective shell I’d worn for years and done something I’d never done with any man—given Troy a set of keys to my apartment.

Chapter 15|

Troy was confident my love belonged to him and never asked me to get rid of my male friends like some partners did when things turned serious. From the moment we became involved, I knew Troy was capable of changing my licentious ways.

As I headed to my car, the tune of Usher singing “That’s What It’s Made For” went off on my cell phone. It was Khalil.

“Speak,” I said, beating him to the punch line.

“What’s up, love?”

“Headed to my office. How are you?”

“Everything is everything,” he replied. “What’s new?”

“I’m finally settling down. Troy and I got engaged and I gave him a set of keys.”

“Congrats,” Khalil said in a dull tone.

“What’s new with you?”

“Ah, love, you know how it is, busy working. I’m thinking about settling down myself.”

“Really? With the young lady you’d been seeing? What’s her name again?”

“Janet. I’m just not a hundred percent sure what I want yet. You know how that can be,” he said.

“I understand. You have to do what makes sense for you at the end of the day,” I replied. “Have you heard anything about Dorian’s investigation?”

“They have a guy named Darnell in custody. Apparently, he was bangin’ Dorian’s wife. Last I heard the police were looking for her. They think she may be hiding out in the Caymans.”

I couldn’t tell Khalil that Kristie had told me about her lover in one of our sessions. Part of me felt responsible for what happened to Dorian. I told myself not to feel guilty or take the blame. It wasn’t like Dorian hadn’t already had an altercation with Darnell. He should have known what he was up against.

“How’d they discover it was him?”

“The details were a little sketchy. Sounds like an anonymous source may have caused the detectives to look into this guy. He took a plea bargain when the pressure came down and told the cops Dorian’s wife was the master mind behind the attack.”

I’d been the unidentified informant who tipped the police off.

“Is there something on your mind, Khalil? You seem distant,” I asked.

“I’m fine, love. Hey, so was it the ring or something else that sparked you to give Troy keys to your crib?”

“He is my fiancé, Khalil. He isn’t living with me. He just has access to my home. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Khalil said.

“Let me find out you’re jealous, Khalil,” I teased.

Khalil had been cold on the phone. I’d known him too long and something was bothering him. It didn’t matter. I was done investing in other people’s drama. I wasn’t going to allow him to steal my joy. If he wasn’t happy for Troy and I, fuck him.

• • •

My business was booming, and I was finally in a happy place. Troy and I were in sync. It never crossed my mind that we could love so hard, but we did. His baby mama finally quit calling and driving by my house. The hang-up calls also stopped. I was traveling again weekly, closing deals for my firm. The month of October was booked solid so I could wrap up outstanding deals, avoiding travel during the holidays.

Donovan, the guy from the train, called the office looking for someone to represent his company. He had launched an entertainment business, helping untapped talent penetrate the marketplace. We made dinner plans at the Shark Bar, between Broadway and Amsterdam, to discuss the scope of the services he needed.

When I arrived, Donovan was running late. A glass of white wine marinated on my taste buds while I waited. Donovan arrived looking dapper as hell. Someone raised him right. He approached the table, leaned over to kiss me on the cheek, and took his seat.

“How was your day?” he asked.

“It was excellent, very productive,” I responded.

“Let’s get business out of the way, and then we can enjoy the remainder of our evening.”

“Sounds great.”

“Ideally, what we want to do is act as agents for performers, vocalists, and other entertainers across a wide spectrum of industries. We may have some in music or acting,” he said.

“Explain to me the details of what you’ll do. Are you going to find placement for them? Negotiate contracts? What will your services cover?”

“We would like to do all that. We want to utilize industry connections all of us have to make things happen for urban youth looking to break into their respective fields.”

“What role do you see my firm playing?”

“I’d like for your team to design our media kits. Essentially, we want a presence both on and offline.”

“About how many people do you intend to employ starting out, and what have you forecasted for budgets?”

“It’s pretty small starting out, but I’d like you to personally manage the project.”

We continued talking about the needs of his company. For the most part, I didn’t take on tiny projects like his. Recently, my firm had hired a few college students who wanted industry experience. This would be an excellent project for one of them to work on solo. I decided to hook Donovan up with my intern Elise despite his request to work directly with me.

“So, what’s new with you?” he asked.

“I’ve been providing free counseling to poverty-stricken families out in the Bronx. A friend of mine started a community program, hoping to improve the well-being of people in the projects.”

“Wow.” He was impressed with my affectionate attitude toward those less fortunate. “How often do you go out there?”

“Once a week right now. It’s very flexible.”

“That’s what I like about you. You are a talented sistah, always helping people out.”