GRIND (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 1) (33 page)

“Yeah, there’s a woman in there,
and
?” Zen cocked his head to the side and sighed. “Why don’t you go on into your bedroom, okay?” He pointed out into the general direction of Paw’s room in case the man had lost his way. “I’m going to order some food in a little bit. If you’re still hungry, you can have some.”

Paw sniffed the air once more, and then again.

“You smell like—”

“Goodbye, Paw.” He attempted to close the door, end the situation once and for all, but the geezer placed his hand up, blocking it.

“Do you like her?” he asked earnestly, his pitch seemingly losing its elderly tone, softening as if by some miracle. The question sounded odd, yet befitting, despite whom it was coming from, and the timing and place.

“Yeah. I like her a lot. She’s my girlfriend.”

“You… brought her to our home…” Paw seemed to be drifting away, falling into one of his many strange spells. “I bet she’s the one you talk to late at night… all hours of the night. I can’t hear what you say, but… I can hear you talking… and you laugh… and sound so happy. So happy, Zen.” Paw’s eyes glossed over, as if he were thinking of something or someone else. The utterances sounded disjointed; he was definitely having a spell, despite his observations being true…

“Is she pretty?” he whispered.

“Yeah, she’s real pretty.”

“Did you…did you use protection?” He tapped his cane against the floor and bore his weight on it, as if anticipating the worst, just in case the wrong answer may make him topple over. Zen looked at the man, feeling all sorts of strange things—a smidgen of anger, slight amusement, and a sense of violation, too. His privacy was important to him, and how the hell was any of this anyone’s business, including Paw’s? He got ready to unleash, prepared to tell Paw to stay in his lane… or perhaps he wouldn’t answer at all, simply close and lock the door, but he knew better. This wasn’t the sort of thing to use to play games with the old man.

“Yeah, I took care of that.” He could almost feel the old man’s relief when he sighed, eyes momentarily closed, and placed his hand over his heart as if about to recite a pledge. “Good… good. Is she pretty?”

“You already asked me that, Paw.”

“I did? Yes, that’s right, I did…” Turning away, he then shuffled down the hall to his room. Zenith watched him until he’d disappeared into his bedroom and closed the door. Following suit, he walked back in and locked his door. Sitting on the bed, he opened up a drawer in his nightstand.

“Hey, baby, sorry about that.” He pulled out various menus, some stained with old grease from previous meal orders. “We’ve got, let’s see, Thai, Chinese, that pizza place you and I were talking about the other day and…” And then he paused. “Damn, you’re asleep.” He smiled as he looked down at her. Her serene state of being radiated from her form. In his eyes, she was perfect in every way. He traced her cheek, then the dip of her cupid’s bow. Slowly, ever so slowly, he laid a soft kiss along her lips, and watched her for a while as her eyes moved under the lids…

She’s dreaming…

“I’ll choose for us,” he whispered, sitting up. “You seem like you might be in the mood for some pizza tonight. Treat yourself to some carbs….you earned them.” He grabbed his cell phone, menu in hand. “Hey, what’s up? Yeah, I wanna place an order for delivery.” Throwing his hand behind his head, he stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles, wiggling his toes and getting comfortable. “Yeah so, let me get three large pizzas—one for me, one for my baby though I know she’ll waste some of it, and one for my crazy ass grandfather… Oh, I almost forgot to ask. Do you have any specials tonight? Hopefully something that’ll still taste good in the morning. I’m planning on havin’ breakfast in bed…”

Three computer monitors
showed the exact same thing. Nothing. Silver glanced lazily at her phone as she swiveled back and forth at the speed of a snail. She lulled her head back, looked up at the ceiling, and drifted away in blank thoughts. “I’m Up” by Omarion played softly from her iTunes library. Suddenly, a noise grabbed her attention. The phone buzzed.

Who is calling me right now?

Hating that she had to exert energy, she glanced down at it and grimaced. Ignoring the unidentified number, she ran her hands nervously up and down her dark blue Levi skinny jeans.

Since that night—one hour had passed, then another; then a day had come and gone. This went on and on until she realized that she in fact was not in a dream; this was really happening, right before her eyes. She’d never expected this. She never asked for it, or had she? Perhaps she had, unknowingly? The last couple of weeks had consisted of her accepting what had happened. She was in a great relationship, she’d fallen in love, and each day, he showed her something else about himself she simply had to have. It was the damndest thing.

Just like her first love, she found it rather alarming how things had unfolded. Sure, it didn’t take years to foster in this case, but the same principles applied. Back then, she’d fallen in love with a friend. On the other hand, she and Zenith had gotten to know one another in a slow crawl but when those damn doors were knocked open, they were on full blast. They saw one another daily, even if only for thirty minutes, and the calls and texts went on and on, neither of them getting enough.

And the sex! Jesus! It happened often, and each and every time he delivered, he left her swooning. Although not promiscuous, she’d had a few good lovers, even a couple that were great… but damn, Zenith wore the fucking crown. He’d blown her mind and her back out, all at once.

This was her second time being in love, and in some strange ways, she felt gutted, like a fish. Apprehension made her uneasy, downright queasy. Yet, his love and his body were addictive. They’d meet up and go out; the prior weekend, she’d attended one of his gigs in the city…

She brought Clara around for this event. Zenith marched up to her friend and immediately apologized for what he’d said to her when they first met. He seemed sincere enough, and although Clara looked at him suspiciously, she accepted his apology. After some thought, and the free drinks he supplied them with, the woman pulled her aside and told her emphatically that though she believed Zenith was an asshole, she thought they’d be good together…

“So what are you trying to say, Clara?”

Shaaaaddddde…

The performance was taking place at Gramercy Theater and she felt so silly standing there, surveying the crowd with a grin plastered on her face and her arms crossed. She was pleased as punch knowing that the women who jumped up and down screaming her man’s damn name had no idea none of their thirsty, thot asses were going home with him that night…

Those days were over.

He’s mine…

Her jealousy was a new characteristic she didn’t much care for. Never believing she possessed a jealous bone in her body, something odd had happened since they’d made shit official—triggered by a magazine that didn’t even belong to her boyfriend and later, a missing Magnum. She detested women who behaved as she did, so she kept those feelings tucked away, making sure to never let Zenith see her sweat again. For a long few days, his phone would light up with calls… from women. She’d see their faces flash across his screen, but quickly turn away, refusing to let him see her in such a vulnerable state. Besides, he loved her, and proved it with action, not just empty words.

Then, today was the cherry on top. She opened her Outlook inbox and, there, among the unopened ones, was an email from a Mr. Zenith Taylor that read:

Sender: Zenith Taylor

Subject: Trust

Message: Silver, I’m at work and typing this on my cell phone. I’m not on break. I just walked out to write this to you because I felt like it was important. I woke up this morning with something on my mind but didn’t have time to address it right then. You were acting fine, but I know what’s been bothering you. Look baby, I can’t always control who texts and calls me but I don’t want you to feel disrespected. Not every woman who calls me though is someone that has given me top; some are just friends, but I know that’s not really the point. I want you to trust me. I know the reputation musicians have. A lot of women think we are womanizers because the opportunity is there. And a lot of us do sleep around because of that, including myself at one point in time.

But even when I just wanted someone to sleep with, I had standards. If not, I would have just accepted any women that came up to me after my gigs. There are always women there, but more times than not I would do just as I did with you, and go after a woman that caught my attention, regardless of whether she noticed me or not. I’d go after the one I wanted, not the one that was just there.

None of that even matters now. Here is the point: I sent out a mass text message to some of the ladies I’d once slept with that are still in contact with me off and on. I let them know I wasn’t up for that anymore. I want you to feel secure. I know that’s probably not even in your nature so if something is going on that makes you uncomfortable, I’ll try to make it better. I’m not a mind reader though, so in the future just tell me. Regardless, I took care of it. I told them I was in a relationship.

Some of them respected that and said congrats and bye, while others said they didn’t believe it and one even accused me of being a woman that had gotten a hold of my phone, then went on a rant.

Forget all of that. It’s just you and me and to prove that, I have something for you. Here is the password to my phone: Puregrit4life90. I’m not giving it to you because you asked, because you didn’t. I’m not giving it to you because you want it. I’m not giving it to you because I want yours in return.

I’m giving it to you because I love you, and I know this is a little awkward for both of us. Neither of us expected this, but neither of us fought it very hard, either. I love you so much, I can’t even explain it to you. Javier is the songwriter, not me. I’m not very good at shit like this. I’m not the best at words, period. My “words” come through my music so when I write these things and say them to you, I mean them.

I love you and will see you later tonight.

Zenith

Something resembling a silly grin creased her face and then broke free, ambushing her as it morphed into a full-blown burst of laughter. The euphoria died off soon after it had been born, for a deeper realization had set in, and the feelings of guilt were doing things to her, horrible things.

How could she be happy? How could she
allow
herself to be happy? None of this was permissible. She and Zenith had spoken of her ex-husband’s death several times, and each conversation gave her a little more healing, but the wound was still there, begging to stay bloody and raw.

Snapping out of her thoughts, she delved back into her work, trying with due diligence to adjust yet another time lag issue with a brand new prototype that held so much promise…

Brand new prototype? That’s like my relationship, isn’t it? I haven’t been this happy in months. I refuse to let this happen! No, this has to stop, and it has to stop right now.

She sighed, picked up her phone, and heard the man’s voicemail recording, still not quite used to it:

If you don’t know who this is, then don’t leave a message. If you do know who this is, leave one, but keep it brief. If this is about my band playing for you or your club, leave your name and number. Peace.

“Hi Zenith… it’s me. I got your email. I thought I’d just go ahead and call you instead of writing back. Look, I don’t want your password, so change it now that you’ve told me but I know why you offered it. I think the gesture was nice… I really do. Just, uh… I just wanted to tell you that I love you too… alright?” She sighed, not sure what else to say. “That’s all. Talk to you later, baby.”

Disconnecting the call, she swiveled in her chair, smiling at the ceiling. The fluorescent lighting reminded her of blinding sunshine rays. Instead of feeling as if she were under the plantation’s glare and Jim Crow scrutiny as she would joke to coworkers and colleagues from time to time, her body and mind were surrounded by soothing warmth, like hot tea flavored with a thin slice of lemon. Perhaps healing wasn’t an event, but a series of steps, some small and others not so small. She’d stumble along the way, and at other times she journeyed through life like a supermodel on a runway.

Maybe everything that was uttered and written between her and Zenith was a key to the next phase, a passage to peace of sorts. Zenith would never understand the torment she put herself through and most days; she didn’t understand it her damn self. But it was
HER
torment, and she’d gotten used to it, so much so, she had no idea how much she relied on it as a protective shield to never reach her zenith…

…But now, she was ready. And she wanted to climb up to the very top. Grabbing her cell phone once more, she looked from left to right. She scrolled through her directory and found the number she’d saved after that time she’d embarrassed herself with Zenith and slapped him to escape a moment of intimacy.