My Addiction: Second Chances Series (7 page)

“So you call that peaceful?” she replied

“I didn’t start it,” I rebutted.

She shook her head but didn’t reply. I sighed and affirmed, “Look, at the end of the day, Roger and his friends deserved what they got and you shouldn’t have had to make his ass anything. I’m sure you had no problems from him after that, right?” I paused and when she shook her head, no, I continued. “And as far as Nora goes, she and I just weren’t on the same page as I thought we were. I was wrapped up in my career to see it at first, but now I do. Now I don’t feel like Nora is the one I should make my wife. It’s a little messed up I know, but I’d rather do it now than later. I don’t want to be a robot in a marriage doomed to fail. Shit’s going to be rough as it is with the type of job I have, working crazy hours and being on call. I just need that one person that can handle it as well as handle me and, to be honest, I don’t think she exists.”

“Why is that?”

I just shrugged. “I just don’t, but I don’t want to settle. It’s all or nothing when you talk about marrying someone, right?”

We both got quiet as we ate with an occasional drive down memory lane or story one of us wanted to share. I told her about my cases, the good and the bad. We talked about her going to school and working at Ice’s.

When we pulled up at Ice’s, after dinner, she said goodbye to me, turned off the car and started to get out. I touched her arm, and she looked back at me.

I said, “Listen, just as much as you know me, I know you. I know something is up and I know it has to be deep. I hope it has nothing to do with your brother and the shit he’s into. The drug thing was crazy and if you’re wrapped up in that again…”

“I’m not,” she said simply.

I continued, “If you are, then I won’t reach out to you anymore. I can’t deal with that shit again.”

“I told you I’m not,” she repeated.

I sighed. “Then what’s going on with you? You’re jumpy and short-tempered, more than usual, I might add. You’ve lost a lot of weight that, in my medical opinion, isn’t healthy. Come on, Ana; talk to me. If it isn’t drugs, what is it?”

“I can’t, okay? It’s nothing like before, I assure you. I just…” She got quiet and I saw the battle that ensued in her eyes. “Maybe your brother is right; maybe you should stay away from me.” She then got out of the car, leaving me with a shitload of questions and not a single answer.

When I made it back to my brother’s house, I was met by an angry figure sitting in the living room. I ignored him, not trying to deal with his shit. He’s typically angry all the time about everything. I told you the death of MJ messed him up.

I headed for the kitchen to grab some water. When I turned around to head to my room, he was standing in the doorway.

“Are you that fucking stupid?”

“What are you talking about?” I knew what he was talking about mind you, but hell I didn’t want to assume.

“You know what the fuck I’m talking about. I mean, you left a wonderful girl for what? For that trash? I thought you were better than that.”

I walked past him, bumping his shoulder on my way out of the kitchen.

“Don’t walk away from me.”

I turned around. “Lock, you don’t know shit that’s going on.”

“Yea?” He folded his arms. “Why don’t you enlighten me? Help me understand why you left Nora for a junkie?”

“Wow,” I challenged, shaking my head.

“Ana says all the time that you don’t like her. And I would always say she was wrong, but you
really
don’t like her.”

“What I don’t like is her stringing my brother along-”

“She’s not stringing me along,” I declared, but he kept going as if I didn’t say anything.

“…getting you into some shit that later I’d have to figure out a way to get you out of it.”

“Shit, Lock, I’m not a fucking kid. I don’t need you to figure shit out for me. I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Lock moved closer to me and pointed at my chest. “Yeah, bro, but you didn’t see the aftermath of what she did to you. Shit man, you were fucked up over her. I don’t want to see that happen again. She’s not good for you. No woman should have that kind of effect on any man.”

“Is that what’s going on with you, Lock? MJ has been gone for years and you’re as miserable and messed up as the day she passed.”

Lock’s face became distorted as he moved in mine. “Fuck you, Brad. You have no idea what I’m going through.”

“You’re right, Lock. I don’t, but I have a pretty good idea. I miss her too,” I told him solemnly.

“It’s not the same…”

“You’re right. It’s not, but I’ll tell you something that you need to hear. That woman loved the shit out of you. She wouldn’t want you walking around here like you do, angry at the world, taking that shit out on everyone around you. I mean, mourn the hell out of your woman, Lock. I’m not saying don’t, but, shit bro, you’re wasting away. Ayana’s not the only one that I can tell has been through hell. I’m actually worried about you too.”

Lock backed up. “Yeah? Well, don’t.”

He walked into the living room and I followed. “Unfortunately, I can’t help it.”

“Well try. I’m fine, Brad.”

Lock moved past the living room heading straight for the upstairs steps.

I yelled up to him. “While you’re up there, shave that damn beard and take a shower. You look like you haven’t showered in months.”

He grunted his reply and when I heard his door slam, I just shook my head.

I’m fine, my ass.

I know he and I will have this conversation again—we’re just getting started. My brother wasn’t one of those guys that walked around constantly smiling. I mean, he is a mean son of a bitch, but he didn’t seem himself. We are ‘A’ typical guys; we talk about sports most times when we’re together. We talk about our jobs and tell each other stories. We talk about our mother and her eighth husband. We laugh at the painstaking challenges of our father and his young wife that drives him crazy.

But since I arrived here, Lock and I hadn’t said much to each other. We’ve spent time in the same room together but words hadn’t been shared. However, that’s going to change. I didn’t know how I was going to get through to my brother, but I’d definitely figure something out.

******

“You have got to be kidding me, Kobe Bryant is not better than Michael Jordan,” she voiced, pointedly.

Ayana and I were sitting on the couch in my brother’s house while we watched the last minutes of the Lakers vs. Heat game. As always, we argued about anything basketball. We would argue about who should be MVP or who was the best guard in the game or overall. Most times, the arguments were silly and actually started by me, for no reason but to get a rise out of her.

Tonight it was the infamous Kobe vs. Jordan argument.

I leaned back and looked at her. “You have got to be kidding me. Why don’t you come out of the twentieth century for a minute? Kobe’s game is stellar. He’s about to pass Jordan’s record this year for scoring for sure. He’s just an all-around better player.”

Ayana turned and faced me in the couch. She pushed her hair from her face clearly agitated. “And you need to stop thinking he’s the freaking Messiah. Kobe wouldn’t be anything if it wasn’t for Shaq. Shaq was the man back then and fucking unstoppable. Your boy, Kobe, was hanging on his success. Jordan did his thing,” she pointed out, “sometimes putting the team on his back. He was the man on all six championships. Kobe will never see another championship again. He’s washed up.”

“Wow, you think Kobe Bryant is washed up?” I shook my head. “Girl, you’re definitely on something.”

“No, I think you’re confused; Jordan was clearly a better player. He was a better regular season performer. Just check the stats.” She started counting off her points with her fingers. “Per game stats, Jordan averaged about thirty points a game to Kobe’s twenty-five and Jordan ranked higher in rebounds and assists. It’s the same for playoff season too. Jordan was overall a better player and the fact that he made history in a shorter timeframe than it took Kobe speaks volumes.” She frowned. “I can’t believe you said Kobe was better than Jordan.
You
must be on something.”

She rolled her eyes and finally took a breath. I started laughing and shook my head. “Damn, Ana, I love getting you riled up. You fall for that shit all the time. I agree with you, I think Jordan’s game was better than Kobe’s, hands down.”

“Oh my god, you are such an asshole!” I laughed again, just as she leaped toward me. At the same time, I pulled her to me and she landed right on top of me, our lips inches apart. I looked deeply into her creamy eyes and that feeling that used to wash over me whenever she was close suddenly appeared. I instinctively put my hand in her hair and gripped it. Her lips parted slightly as she always used to do when I was aggressive with her. She was the only woman that I could be myself with sexually and it undeniably woke up something inside of me.

Ayana and I had been dancing around this moment for a few days now. After we went to TGI Friday’s for dinner a week or so ago, she tried to keep her distance from me, but I wouldn’t let her. I spent every night I could at the bar and waited for her to emerge from the back. When she did, we hung out at the bar or drove around the city and talked. Soon we were spending time together despite her efforts to keep me at a distance. We eventually graduated to cooking at either her apartment or my brother’s house. We watched movies or played cards, just doing things we used to do as kids. We even went to the court and played a few games.

I didn’t expect us to find our friendship all over again, but, when we did, I should have been prepared for what would follow. The looks that passed through the both of us, we tried to ignore. I knew better, yet we both knew what would happen if one of us crossed that line. One summer in Miami, our relationship changed drastically. We went from just friends to something more than we could ever imagine. Our feelings skyrocketed after that trip and we spent more time in between the sheets than anything else. We fucked like rabbits and it was by far the best I’ve ever had. I mean, Ayana was a woman that wanted to please and submit to anything I wanted to do. And we did some things I’d never did with another female ever.

It was something that she brought out of me. And when circumstances caused us to part, shit wasn’t the same. I felt disconnected and lonely without her and I couldn’t stand it. So five years ago when we found each other again things started where we’d left off instantly. We didn’t waste time with familiarizing ourselves with each other again. The moment our lips touched, that shit was over. She was mine again, and it was as if I never left.

That’s what I was faced with this moment. The moment I kiss her, it would be over, and to be honest with you, I didn’t give a shit. I was hungry for her.

I moved her closer to my lips, and when I licked both hers and mine at the same time, she closed her eyes. “Bradley…” she whispered, softly. “We can’t…”

If she was in a relationship with someone, I’d like to think I’d show restraint, but she told me she was free, so I decided I was going to take what I wanted.

I moved up closer to her and assured, “Sure we can… watch.” She tried to resist me, but the moment my lips met hers, I felt her resolve melt in my arms replaced by a soft moan that moved through me.

I moved her body and trapped her between the couch and me. I kissed the shit out of her, releasing some built up feelings that I hadn’t a clue I was holding. I needed to get more of her. I needed to feel her, to taste more of her.

I pulled back and the fire I saw in her eyes burned me to my core. Overwhelmed, desire to conquer her took over and declared,
I will have her tonight!

I stood up instantly and pulled her up to me. I didn’t care that she saw how hard she made me just by kissing her. She tried to take advantage of this pause in my pursuit of her.

“Bradley, I think I need to go home,” she protested.

I looked at her tank top, brought my hands on the top of the shirt and gripped it tight within my hands. She instinctively moved back from me, but I didn’t stop. I followed, and, just as she got to the door, I ripped her tank top down the front.

“Fuck, Bradley,” she admonished, her hands instantly going up to her breasts.

I wasn’t stopping. My hand went between her legs and caressed her over her shorts with my palm, placing just enough pressure, knowing what she liked, while my body continued to invade her space.

“Brad, please,” she said to me. Her voice laced with need for me more than the want for me to stop.

“That’s what I’m trying to do. Stop fighting me or, hell, keep doing it. You know that shit turns me on when you pretend to not want me when clearly your moans say that you do.”

She tried to give me a stern look, but I saw her lip tremble slightly, and I ran my other hand down the front of her chest. When I got to her bra, I pulled slightly and it came undone, thankful she loved front clasping bras. As she closed her eyes, I went right for that place on her neck and waited for the waterfall.

“Oh God, Bradley!” Her knees buckled, and my arm instantly went around her waist and kept her up. “We shouldn’t do this.”

I gripped her by her chin and tilted her head up so she could look me in my eyes. “Stop fighting what you know comes natural to us. Just give it to me.”