Diva Diaries (3 page)

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Authors: Janine A. Morris

BOOK: Diva Diaries
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3
Friend or Foe?
S
he opened the back passenger door to her midnight black 2005 BMW X5 jeep to put her briefcase and jacket on the seat. She closed the back door, opened her driver's side door, stepped up inside of it, and sat down. As she checked to make sure her mirrors were straight, she took an extra minute to glance in the rearview mirror at what was left of her at the end of her crazy day. Her eyes looked tired and her makeup was completely gone. Jordan didn't wear much makeup—she didn't really need any, and she would wear just enough to accentuate her features. Jordan was five-feet-seven, 150 pounds, with a Coca-Cola-shape body; she was a 34D on top, and a size 8 on the bottom. She still hated her extra weight, and was desperately trying to start an aerobic class to tone up her stomach and thighs. She was brown-skinned, with shoulder-length, dark-brown hair with copper highlights. Her light brown eyes were almond-shaped, and sat above her button nose and petite lips. She had an oval-shaped face, with a slight pudge in her cheeks, giving her a baby-face look to contrast with her sexy shape.
She took about ten seconds before starting her car. Her mind was racing through a million thoughts; she couldn't believe what had just happened. She and Jayon had a thirteen-year friendship, and they had maintained a rare platonic opposite-sex friendship. He was the closest male in her life, excluding family, and she was the closest female in his, excluding family. They had always treasured their bond, and even when they weren't as close as usual, they had an understanding that they were always there for each other when needed. After college, once while Jordan was in law school and Jayon was in grad school, they had a few weeks when they strayed from their platonic friendship, maybe just to satisfy their curiosity. She and Omar had broken up, and after a few weeks she and Jayon were taking advantage of the opportunity to spend more time together and go on a much-needed vacation.
They went on a cruise to the Caribbean, and while on the ship the romantic environment influenced them and they overstepped the line. Still, they never did sleep together. They had shared their first kisses during that cruise, but even with all the temptation, all they had done was made it to about second base. After they returned home, their time together increased and they discussed the possibility of a relationship. They both knew the history between Omar and Jordan, and they couldn't make a decision until more time had passed. Sure enough, after another month had passed, Omar decided to try to work it out, and as usual, Jordan agreed to try. She had discussed it with Jayon and he was supportive of it; she and Jayon both knew that was typical for her and Omar, and that's why they had decided not to go all the way in the first place.
For a while, immediately after, it was weird between Jayon and Jordan, but they both knew the decision to mend what she and Omar had was the right thing to do. She and Omar had been together for nine years at that point—a couple of weeks of lustful fun couldn't erase that. So, there were no hard feelings, and for the next six years, what they'd shared was just a moment in time, in the past. In less than a year, things were just as they had been before. The two of them were back to being friends, and other than an occasional joke about their time together here or there, it was in the past. There had been no temptation between the two of them since—well, nothing worth noting, at least. That's why Jayon's behavior in the office was so shocking to Jordan. What the hell was he doing?
Just as she went to change her gear shift to DRIVE, her cell phone rang. She glanced in the Caller ID and it read home.
“Where are you?” Omar said as soon as she answered the phone.
“I am leaving the office now—I'm on my way,” she explained.
“I called you at the office and there was no answer.”
“I was working out of Jayon's office, but I am on my way now ... I will be there in about fifteen minutes, so I will see ya when I get there.”
Jordan heard Omar sigh, and then he hung up the phone.
Jordan's brain was racing—she had a million thoughts running through her head. She just wanted to get off the phone before her guilt became obvious. In her work, Jordan was damn good at hiding the truth and keeping her emotions hidden, but in her home life with her husband she couldn't lie to save her life. She knew she hadn't done anything wrong, but Omar would feel justified for his occasional complaints that he thought her friendship with Jayon was inappropriate. She would always disagree and defend herself and Jayon, on the grounds that their friendship was respectful of her marriage. She knew what had just happened would change that entire theory. Trying to fathom the changes that Omar would probably request was just too much for Jordan. It wasn't just their business relationship—since college she and Jayon had been the best of friends, and she wanted to continue that. Still, what Jayon had just done was so disrespectful—something like that can be so damaging.
As she pulled out of the parking lot, onto Sixth Avenue in midtown Manhattan, she turned her radio to Hot 97, wanting to hear some hiphop to clear her mind. Funkmaster Flex was spinning, and he was in the middle of a throwback set. Just what Jordan needed—some of her favorite old school hits. She started rapping along to Slick Rick's “Mona Lisa,” and within minutes her mind was completely off of Jayon and Omar's anger. As she mumbled the words, “
Excuse me, dear, my god you look nice, put away your money, I'll buy that slice
,” Jordan was in her own club, Club X5. She made her way through midtown and through the midtown tunnel on Thirty-fourth Street. By the time the next song by Jay-Z came on, she had got onto the Long Island Expressway, and as soon as she reached the first exit she hit traffic.
Why in the world would there be traffic this time of night
, Jordan thought to herself. “Just to make my night worse than it already is,” Jordan said, answering her own thought out loud. She knew now it was going to take forever to get home to Elmont. She decided to try not to let the delay upset her, and let Funkmaster Flex keep her entertained. He had switched up and started playing some current songs, and she just kept grooving. For the next fifteen minutes or so, she moved her foot on and off the brakes, trying to get from exit to exit. After she realized this was going to take quite some time, she decided to call Omar to let him know. She turned down the volume just as the commercials were about to come on. After the fourth ring, the answering machine answered at her house. She hung up and put her cell phone back down in her lap.
Jordan started to look for ways to maneuver through the traffic, but after a few lane changes it seemed like she would just have to wait for it to break. With the silence and traffic, her mind wandered back to what had just happened with Jayon. As she thought of it, she shook her head, still kind of in shock. For years everything had been on a platonic level, with no hint of anything like this. Of course, the inevitable attraction between man and woman had made itself known at times, but it was something these two always had control over. They had always kept their friendship, and then business relationship, a priority, so it was always natural not to feel any temptation. Another reason they had always refrained from that behavior was that Jordan had been with Omar since she and Jayon first met thirteen years ago. There were breaks and issues between Omar and Jordan, but even when spending time together during those times, Jayon had always respected her and Omar's relationship, sometimes more than Omar deserved. It was bugging Jordan out how Jayon had just gone against everything the two of them stood for and made that attempt.
In some way, she was flattered that he was still attracted to her in that way. She wasn't unaware of that attraction; she always found Jayon to be fine his damn self. He was five-eleven, about 190 pounds. He definitely had some meat on his bones, but with his height he appeared stocky. He was just Jordan's type. He wasn't fat nor was he skinny; just like the bowl of porridge, he was just right. He had a caramel complexion, with a low ceasar and two slight dimples in both of his cheeks. His brown eyes were round and distinct, almost as if he was wearing eye makeup; he even had long black eyelashes that were fit for a female. Although he had the prettiest eyes she'd ever seen on a man, they didn't subtract from his masculinity, they only added to his good looks. He had bushy, untamed eyebrows, a thin moustache, and a peach-fuzz beard. He had a very handsome face, but Jordan's favorite feature had always been his lips. Got damn, his lips were sexy. They were perfectly defined with a plumpness that just invited sucking. If there was one thing Jordan always had to resist, it had been his lips.
Jordan had to snap out of her daydream about Jayon. She didn't know what to think about what just happened at the office, but by that time the traffic broke and she was too busy swerving through traffic to come to a conclusion.
 
 
It was about a quarter to eleven when Jordan finally arrived home. She hurried in the house, dropped her tan leather briefcase by the door, and kicked off her tan Gucci pumps. She went through the front porch and family room—there was no sign of Omar. She walked into the dining room and found that the table was set for two, including two glasses of champagne and two lit candles. She studied the room for a minute, at the carefully decorated details, before she continued to search for Omar. He had managed to make the dining room feel like a restaurant with a romantic ambiance, right in their own home.
She headed back out of the dining room and was about to walk upstairs when she heard the TV in the living room. She walked into the living room, and there was Omar lying on the couch, fast asleep. He still had the remote in his hand and was fully dressed, with the exception of his shoes. She just stood there looking at him for about two minutes, feeling absolutely horrible and momentarily hating her career. He had done so much to make tonight special, and here he was, knocked out on the couch, because he was here all alone waiting. Instead of harping on the guilt, she headed upstairs, planning on trying to still have a romantic night the best they could.
Jordan prepared herself for the night, hoping that she hadn't ruined it completely. She took about ten minutes to freshen up and change, and then she headed back downstairs. Omar was still fast asleep on the couch, unaware that Jordan had even come home. She quietly walked up close to him, knelt down, and gently kissed his lips. At first there was no reaction, and then she gently kissed them again. He jumped up, and after shaking off his confusion, he looked directly at the time on the satellite cable. He then looked back at Jordan, frustration all over his face.
Once she saw that he was obviously upset with her late arrival, she quickly explained, “Baby, I'm so sorry ... I hit traffic ... I tried to call you, but you didn't answer the phone.”
Omar didn't respond—he just got up off the couch and walked upstairs. She knew that she couldn't get upset; she hated waiting on Omar more than anything in the world, so she would be a hypocrite not to understand. Not to mention, he had given her advance notice of his special plans for the evening. This was just one incident where her demanding job caused a problem at home.
Jordan figured she'd better try to salvage what was left of the evening. She went into the kitchen and started heating up the meal that Omar had cooked at least two hours earlier. Once it was heated, she served the food and the champagne. She made sure the table was all ready before she went upstairs to get Omar. She just hoped he hadn't gone back to sleep or had already decided to assume his stubborn mode.
When she reached the bedroom, he was just changing out of his clothes to get ready for bed. She took a few moments before she said anything, and he didn't say anything to her, either, although he noticed her in the doorway. She watched him slip out of his pants and shirt, and was admiring him walking around in his blue-and-gray boxers and wifebeater. Omar was five-eleven, 185 pounds, and had a nice chisel to his body. He wasn't stocky or cut up, but he had a full frame, just how Jordan liked it. He was light-skinned, with a bald head, and piercing, dark-brown eyes that always had a slight puffiness under them. He had lots of facial hair, which he kept manicured, just leaving a slight goatee. After she finished admiring her husband's physique, she realized if she didn't speak soon he would be under the covers.
“Sweetie ...” she called out in a light, apologetic, sweet tone. “Will you please join me at the dinner table?”
At first he just continued with what he was doing, removing his watch and bracelet. After he was done, he glanced over in Jordan's direction, and then did a double take. He realized that Jordan was dressed in a little sheer black teddy. As much as he probably wanted to stay mad, his manhood overcame him. His facial expression changed almost instantly, but after a few seconds he still turned away, trying to keep his cool. Jordan knew the teddy would do something, if not everything, to get him back in the mood.
Making a delayed response, he said, “I will be right down.”
Without saying anything, Jordan turned away from the door and went back downstairs. She went into the living room and turned on the stereo to 98.7 Kiss FM and tuned into Kissing After Dark with Lenny Green. He was playing hits by Barry White and Luther Vandross—just the perfect music for the evening. She turned the volume to a soothing level and headed back into the dining room and waited for Omar.

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