Between My Thighs: An Urban Erotic Tale (10 page)

Troy was devoted to his work. I didn’t need a man for stability. I was already stable. I wanted a man to love me and satisfy my sexual cravings. Troy did that.

“That isn’t a word,” I exclaimed as Troy spelled out
pulchritudinous
.

“Of course it is,” he said, amused.

“What does it mean?”

He tossed me the dictionary and replied, “Look it up.”

I searched for his word, and it was there. It meant having great beauty or appeal. Troy continued to dazzle me with the words and messages he created on the Scrabble board. I was impressed. His vocabulary, conversation, and personality intrigued me. I hungered to discover more about this man.

When the game was over, I had lost, but I wasn’t a sore loser. Dinner was served.

• • •

The morning of Troy’s departure was harder than we intended. I held back tears as we kissed good-bye. We had had a fun-filled, romantic, and erotic weekend. Seeing Troy leave gave me an awkward feeling inside. As I watched him walk away, I knew I was moving to New York.

Chapter 10|

For the next few months, I drowned myself in my work, staying away from Dorian. I was trying to control my emotions for Troy, so I wasn’t calling him as much, although he stayed on my mind. I had been looking at properties in New York and was slowly referring my patients to a colleague.

Dorian called one day insisting that we meet. From the sound of his voice, something had him spooked. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t surrendering to his request.

I packed my things and left the office early. I wanted to go and take a much-needed nap. When I got home, I had several messages from some guy named Montez. He left a number for me. Before I could return his call, he phoned again.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hi. Sorry to bother you, but I really need to speak to you about your man,” he said.

“You have the wrong number.”

Click.

The phone rang again. “Hello,” I said.

“I’m talking about your man Dorian,” he stated. His words startled me as I went to hang up again.

“Don’t disconnect me again. Hear me out,” he said.

I don’t know why I didn’t end the call at that moment. For a few seconds, I remained speechless.

“This is his lover. I’ve been sleeping with Dorian for a year now. He said he was going to tell you, but I know he hasn’t.”

I fell silent as the man explained in explicit detail how they had been dating and Dorian was supposed to break up with me. I had heard enough.

“You still have the wrong number.”

When I hung up the phone, there was a lump in my throat the size of a bullfrog. I instantly felt like I couldn’t breathe. I thought of all the times I had sex with that short-dick man and how he loved fucking me in the ass. I had used a condom every time, but I still felt disgusted knowing Dorian probably had been sucking that man’s dick the same way he had licked my pussy.

It wasn’t long before I received a knock on the door. It was Khalil and some of his friends.

“What’s up, soror?” Khalil said, brushing past me.

“Hey, frat. What’s going on? What are you so elated about?”

“Because we got you, sis.”

“What do you mean?”

“You should have heard the frustration in your voice when my boy said,
This is his lover
.”

“Get the fuck outta here. Why are ya niggas playing on my phone? I’m not the one pledging.” I laughed at the prank, although with all that had transpired with Dorian and his wife, I was slightly pissed. Khalil wasn’t aware of the details so I just smiled like everything was copasetic.

Khalil and his crew were headed to the movies. He invited me, but I declined. I got to meet his lady, Janet. She was a short, petite woman. Even in her presence, he didn’t make me feel any less special than I am.

• • •

I had found a few apartments in New York through an online broker with whom I had been working. I was scheduled to view them that week. I made travel arrangements and left Troy a message, hoping he could pick me up at the airport. I’d only be in town for two days. I couldn’t stay longer because I had commitments and had to get back soon.

While I was out shopping for lingerie, something I always did before a trip, I spoke with Troy. He told me about Dallas coming on to him at some party.

“So what happened?” I asked.

“She walked up on me while I was dancing to ‘Jook Gal’ by Elephant Man. She was bouncing her ass all over me. I walked away, went to the bar, and got a drink. She followed, ordered an apple martini. She ran some line about being too intoxicated to get home and her girl had bounced with some nigga.”

“And?”

“And, I wasn’t falling for her bullshit. I had my boy take her home. He called me the next day, said she gave him some pussy.”

“That’s it, huh?”

“No. She asked if you were my girlfriend.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I said we fuck. That pissed her off. She tried to shed some tears.”

His reply to Dallas aggravated me. He should have dealt with her ass, never allowing her to dance up on him, made it clearer that she had no chance in hell to get next to him.

“Can you pick me up from LaGuardia Airport tomorrow? My flight gets in at 7:00 p.m.,” I said, shifting the subject.

“Yeah. It shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll be finished working by the time you arrive. I’m going to be out on Long Island, so lemme give you another number to reach me in case my signal is out. My boy has Nextel, and his service works better out there.”

Troy gave me the number to his friend as backup. I knew he was leaving out details about his encounter with Dallas at that party. She probably tried to fuck him and he wasn’t saying. Time would reveal all.

That night when I got home, I had another message on my phone from Kristie.

“Hello. I’m still watching you,” she said, breathing heavily into the phone.

• • •

When I arrived at LaGuardia Airport, Troy wasn’t there. I tried calling him, but I kept getting his voice mail. It was odd he hadn’t called and said something came up. Then I remembered what he said about his signal. I retrieved the number he’d given me from my handbag and dialed. Some bitch answered and said I had the wrong number. I got a fifty-dollar cab ride to my hotel. The whole evening I wondered what happened to Troy, if he was alright, and who the girl was who answered the number he had given me. I thought Troy was playing me for a fool.

I didn’t sleep that night, worrying about Troy. When I linked up with the broker, the apartments he showed me were not up to my standards. The first one was somewhere off Flatbush Avenue. The block was layered in garbage, urine saturated the air, and drug dealers ruled the streets. When we entered the building, leading to the available unit, homeless people were spread across the steps. I stopped the broker, told him there wasn’t a need to go any further. He indicated they were going to be adding a deadbolt to the main entrance, and the apartment was really nice once you got inside. He was wrong. The apartment was horrendous and extremely overpriced. I saw roaches running around on the bright white paint, smelled dog shit leaking from the neighbor’s apartment and heard gunshots right under the living room window.

“Get me the hell outta here,” I demanded.

The next three apartments were also in the dungeon. I was discouraged and felt like the whole trip was a waste of time. I wasn’t from the ghetto and wasn’t going to live in it for sake of being in New York. I never had roaches, ever. After redefining to the broker what I was looking for, he promised to do a better job next time.

Meanwhile, I left Troy several messages cursing him for leaving me stranded when my flight landed. As I drove home, a million thoughts raced through my head about how Troy had played me. He had done the same shit to Dallas. I should have known better than to trust him. I really thought things were different with us. Troy and I had a unique vibe.

My block was jumping when I turned the corner. Sirens and lights flashed in the distance. An officer stood in the street, motioning for me to turn in another direction. I rolled down my window, and asked, “What’s going on, officer?”

“We can’t let anyone down this street,” he replied.

“I live down there.”

“It doesn’t matter. We can’t have any traffic on this road until it’s been cleared,” he replied.

“What’s happening?” I asked again impatiently.

“There’s been an incident.”

“What type of incident?”

“Step out of the car and give me your identification.”

The officer wasn’t giving me any details. From the redness of his face, he appeared to be nearing a boiling point. My questions had annoyed him, and my failure to quickly supply my license further pushed his buttons. I parked my car and walked briskly in the direction of my house. The closer I got, it appeared my neighbor’s house was surrounded by cops. Gladys, one of my neighbors, saw me approaching and ran to greet me.

“We heard shots. I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said.

“Yes, I’m okay. What happened? Where did you hear shots?”

I had been living in my neighborhood for a long time. We never had drama, especially the kind where gunshots broke out on my side of town.

Speaking to Gladys made me realize the incident was at my house, and not next door like I originally assumed. I glanced around the perimeter and noticed blood spatter and a white sheet covering something on my front porch. An officer grabbed me as I tried to bypass him. I spun around off-balance, almost landing on my face. “You’re disturbing a crime scene,” he exclaimed.

“I live here damn it. What the fuck is going on?” I yelled, enraged.

No one was telling me anything. I needed to get closer to my house. I pushed my way past the female officer and took off running toward my yard. When I arrived at my front door, it was clear someone had been injured. I searched the area for clues and finally saw something that looked familiar. It was a bottle of Kendall Jackson Chardonnay that had busted on the ground. I fell to my knees and snatched the sheet back. Lying beside the broken pieces of glass was Dorian. His body was riddled with bullets. An undulating scream came out of me.

The medics had left him there for dead, but he had a pulse. “He’s breathing,” I screamed.

“Move away from the vic,” a hefty voice said. I don’t know if the person hit me in the head or I passed out. When I awoke, I was in this dark gray room with a two-way mirror. I had seen these observation rooms before when I performed experiments. I had been taken in for questioning in Dorian’s attempted murder.

I agreed to speak to the detectives without legal counsel. I wasn’t much help. The only person I could think of that would hurt Dorian was Kristie, and that’s what I told them. I wasn’t being charged with a crime. The officers hoped I could shed light on what may have happened. They released me and offered to give me a ride home. I called Khalil instead.

• • •

Three weeks passed, and I was still at Khalil’s. I was going to stay with my mother but she had a new man. I didn’t want to cramp her style. Besides, Khalil had been the perfect gentleman and comforter, running water for me to bathe, making hot cocoa, and massaging the stress from my body. I hadn’t managed to pull myself together after seeing Dorian’s body pierced with bullets. I’d fallen behind in my work, e-mails, and voice messages.

I went to the hospital to visit Dorian one evening before heading over to my house. He was still in critical condition and in a coma. The hospital had officers outside his room, and one remained inside when visitors entered. The doctors said Dorian could hear, even though he wasn’t able to respond. I sat by his side for a couple of hours, talking to him, and praying for his recovery.

It was tough going to my house. I could still see blood stains from the night Dorian was shot. I quickly gathered my things. I didn’t feel comfortable inside my own home. I grabbed my essentials and headed to my office. There were several messages from clients and friends checking to see how I was doing. Troy still hadn’t called. I sat down at my computer and logged on. I had 1,908 e-mails. The last one was from Dorian, the night before he was hurt.

Dear Raquel,

It was time to stop procrastinating, I went ahead and put my house on the market. There was too much pain in this city. After what happened to my brother and now Dorian, I wasn’t content any longer. I was really a city girl at heart, always had been. Wasn’t sure where it came from because judging from all the cows, sheep, and corn fields, I was in the country. It was time to just step out on faith and walk away from everything. My hometown zapped my energy, bruised my soul, and depressed the hell out of me.

I placed my furniture in storage and moved in with my mother until my house sold or an apartment came through in New York, whichever came first.

I’d been visiting Dorian weekly in the hospital. He didn’t seem to be making much improvement. In similar crimes, officers always investigated the spouse. It wasn’t long before they were questioning Kristie.