Love Delivered (33 page)

“They don’t understand the process it took to make this greatness I display to entertain them. Again, people fall in love with the image…or judge it, but never consider the process.” I was finally able to glimpse up at Zoey to catch her contemplative gaze. Zoey always listened. I missed having a friend in her. I couldn’t stop sharing.  

“I just feel like with what happened with Quincy the other day, it just makes more sense now. People really are more concerned with the perception rather than the process. I feel like I had a parting moment with him…when all things became clear.” I shrugged. “I don’t know if he shared those feelings with anyone else or if he had theorized it himself for the first time in that moment, but I feel like he surmised his life and mistakes with me in a few sentences and then he…died.”

“Well, how so?”

“He told me how much he loved his son, wronged his wife, and had been a shitty father to his daughter. It just makes my theory that much more valid. People only see the outward shell, the accolades, fame…but they don’t see the sacrifices that went into making you who you are and… I just don’t want to be that person anymore. I don’t want that for me. And I don’t want that for JR. I want every moment in my life to count to those who really know me and love me. I want to share with my son what made me great. I want him to know my process to appreciate my journey.”

The feel of Zoey’s soft and warm hand over mine snatched my attention right away. I looked up and found her imploring eyes.

“You are and have always been a phenomenal father to Jordan. You sacrifice so much of your time to be with him. You’re right, people don’t know how you make so many concessions in your schedule to be present in his life and not just write a check, but Jordan Rogers feels it and will soon articulate it. As to your past…what’s contributed to your greatness: you be sure to share that side of your process with him and I have no doubt he’ll be just as taken and impressed as I am.”

I didn’t say anything for a while. I didn’t believe there was a need to. She understood me. Zoey got me. With those few words she told me
she
had my back,
she
was impressed. That shit meant the world to me. Finally, I nodded.

Her expression changed abruptly as though she had just been hit with a thought. “Hey, I TiVo’d old Linkin Park and Nine Inch Nails MTV Unplugged episodes that I haven’t had the time to get to. I haven’t told him, and I don’t think it’s time for JR to come home and see you like this. He’s having a blast and isn’t exactly ready to end his time with his cousins anyway. How about we veg out in front of the television and watch those recordings?”

Zoey’s smile was so bright with enthusiasm, it hurt my eyes. How could I say no? Besides, I wasn’t ready to leave and face the world just yet. I don’t know what was on my back, but I felt like I needed the break, needed the hideaway.

“I’d like that a lot.”

She shrieked. “This is going to be so fun! I just need to run two errands and I’ll be right back.” She paused, thoughtful again. “While I’m out, why don’t you call and check on Jackson. He could probably use his father’s last words regarding him right now.”

“I think I’ll do just that.” Then we spoke at the same time. “After I call Sarah Barrett.”

“After you call Sarah Barrett!” She pointed her index finger at me.

Once we realized we’d parroted each other, Zoey and I both broke into laughter. It was one of the first we’d shared in a year, and one of many over the next few days.

Zoey left to run a few errands for work. While she was out, I called Sarah to let her know I was fine and filled her in on my loss of a friend. I also called my management team to make them aware of my hiatus for the next few days…or so. I couldn’t believe how I was able to relax at Zoey’s place. It was foreign to me, in spite of my son living there and me paying the mortgage on it. Just as I’d assessed two years ago, my first visit without Jordan, this was Zoey’s place. And it felt damn good to find restoration here.

We did watch television together later that night. Zoey had commentary during each song, but that didn’t bother me in the least. I appreciated the conversation over good music. She cooked dinner and made two loaves of cream cheese pound cake to perfection. I guessed I enjoyed it too much based on her jokes about the speed with which it took me to get to the second loaf. I don’t recall laughing so hard since…well, since Zoey. We stayed up pretty late, calling it a night sometime after midnight.

“I can park it here for the night,” I yawned.

“Nah. That’s okay. I think this is more my size than yours,” Zoey noted.

I observed the length of the sofa. While it was deep and long, it wasn’t as generous in size as I needed. Zoey started out of the room. When she returned with linen she stopped abruptly.

“There’s no way I’m sleeping on the love seat, so you’re going to have to move unless you want me to pass out on you. Trust me, I’m not as small as I used to be.”

You damn sure aren’t
. I made sure my greedy eyes didn’t assess her hips that had spread since meeting her.

My lids closed and I fought the urge to shake my head to discard the thoughts that populated.

“Are you sure? I know I’m past imposing on your personal space.”

“Yes, you are.” She plucked a brow. “But not only are you Jordan’s dad, but I have a never yielding fear of one Sarah Barrett, who would have my head if she learned you slept on the couch at my place.”

I snort, resigning my attempt at etiquette. “Fine. Your choice.” I stood. “I guess I should be grateful you’re not limiting me to Jordan’s room.”

“Now, that would be a sight,” Zoey murmured without mirth.

“Goodnight, Zo,” I bade while walking out of the living room.

“Night, StentRo.”

“Here you go with that shit again.” I turned for the corridor.

That’s when I heard her laugh.

The following morning, I was prepared to take on the day. Zoey had breakfast ready for me and encouraged me to call my team to resume work. I wasn’t ready, and she didn’t push. She did, however, play gracious hostess and had clean clothes delivered and hot meals and desserts cooked for me throughout the day. That afternoon, Srey made me aware of my dudes, Uncle O and Mikey Dredd, of Power99 FM Morning Show requesting an interview about Quincy’s passing. Philly’s radio station wasn’t the only one requesting a slot. Angie Martinez from New York City’s Hot97 station wanted an interview as well. I’d known them for years and understood their questions would be tasteful instead of being voyeuristic. We scheduled it for the next morning. I also learned Quincy’s funeral was in two days. That made my stomach turn.

That night, I turned in rather early. I don’t know what did it, but I felt drained, both mentally and physically. I hung up with Jordan and told Zoey I was taking it down. She offered her bed and still feeling uneasy about intruding, I told her I’d be more than happy to take the couch. After going back and forth, I conceded, being too tired for even a bout of etiquette. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

What was unfortunate was waking up just four hours later and not being able to find sleep again. I tossed and turned in bed until I realized how parched I was and decided getting something to drink was wiser than chasing sleep that was nowhere in sight. I sauntered out into the hall, en route to the kitchen, and the closer I got there, the more perceptible Zoey’s kitten voice came.

Initially, I heard mostly giggles. This sound I was familiar with from being the manipulative recipient of it on many occasions with many women, Zoey included. I swallowed hard and my heart rate increased. Suddenly I felt nervous.

“No, silly!” she whispered, then giggled. “I’m not saying that. Of course, I have.” Giggle. “Huhn? Well, yeah.”

Things got quiet, I assumed Zoey was listening to whomever this asshat was. I braved a glance into the living room to find her legs crossed and standing in the air against the back of the couch as her head, perceptively, rested on the seat cushion. All I could see were her legs. Those legs.
Damn
. They were smooth and firm, bare and creamy in color.

“I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to tell me all the nasty things you’ve done to, for some outlandish reason, try to make me comfortable enough to share what I’ve done,” she purred. “I’m sorry, Jae. I haven’t done any of those things.” That time she fucking whined.

What in the fuck hasn’t she ever done?
What in the hell could this fucker be trying to entice her with that I hadn’t introduced her to? This fucked with me. Much of my guilt with Zoey when we started a sexual relationship was no gradualism in my approach. I took the girl from zero to one hundred in no time at all.
Now she’s on the phone with this asshole saying she’s never done “those things?”
I felt light-headed, sick all over again.

Damn!

The back of my head hit the wall.

Zoey’s cackling halted. I cursed myself underneath my breath. She’d heard me. Then I caught footsteps approaching my direction. I had to play this shit right. I began walking toward the kitchen and almost collided with Zoey. Her forehead was wrinkled and mouth collapsed, I’m sure, not appreciating the surprise. I fought damn hard to keep an impassive expression.    

“
J
-Jae…
I
-I have an early morning. I need to go,” she fought for steadiness in her tone. I could hear a baritone voice travel through the earpiece that was stuck to her head. “Yeah. Ummmmm…maybe on Thursday. I’ll call you to confirm.”

I knew she was referring to that date I’d heard her talk about a couple of days ago. Did that mean I’d be done with my hanging out here?

Zoey’s doe eyes were glued to mine, almost in a shameful, fearful manner.

“Goodnight.”

I don’t know if she waited for Jae to reply before she hung up.

“
I
…I…uhh…thought you were sleep.” She cleared her throat before rubbing her lips together.

Shit. Zoey abashed?

“I did, too. Funny thing about that Mr. Sandman: he can be a real tease.”

Zoey bit the inside of her bottom lip, telling her of her rogue with Jae. Her eyes danced all around me, no longer settling into my own.

This time I cleared my throat before informing, “I’m going to get some juice and then hopefully go back to sleep.”  I walked off, not understanding my anger.

Since the Philly interview was a morning show, Zoey made sure I was up and showered to prepare for it. Angie Martinez’s wasn’t a morning broadcast, but Zoey suggested that we record the interview with her after the Philly and knock them out consecutively to help with the emotional dip that I was sure would take place. Once that was done, she forced me out and on a
Niña’s Sweet Cakes
run with her. She really needed to physically visit them all, seeing she’d been away for days with me. I tagged along with security in tow, sometimes sneaking in with her and heading directly into her office or staying in the truck to return calls and emails. In my fog, I made sure to reach out to Jackson daily.

By the time those errands were complete, it was late in the evening. Ironically, I was beat tired, making me aware of the slip in my stamina. After all, this was Zoey’s abbreviated workday, I didn’t exert the physical energy I was accustomed to. We had dinner out at a friend of mine’s restaurant in South Philly. It was a few blocks from one of the bakeries and I was able to have Srey set it up and keep it low key. It was strange to eat with an all grown up Zoey alone. She was more centered, assured, and sultry. She drank wine and talked art and world economics. Her questions were probing, soul-provoking and carried more depth rather than inquest or riddled with hidden motives. She appeared as a free spirit, teetering on aloofness and extreme self-confidence. And while I appreciated her evolution, something about it was unsettling. She was sexy, reflective, magnetic…appealing.

When we got back to her place, she offered the shower to me first. I didn’t bother with the typical modesty of asking was she sure that I’d been practicing since I arrived. That shit got old real quick. This was Zoey after all, not some broad I’d just met and wasn’t sure of her level of comfort with me. I needed the hot water of the shower to sprout over me, beating my tightened muscles from days of not properly stretching or working out. I could swear to hearing Zoey calling, but wasn’t too sure.

When I walked out of the shower, I looked in the partially fogged mirror of the vanity and realized my hair had grown…a lot. Looked like I had a damn miniature jheri curl. I made a note to call my barber. In the meantime, I needed a brush, comb…something. I opened a few drawers in search of a hair implement to no avail, and then found myself dazed at the contents of the last one.

“Hey, Stent. I think I’m just going to grab a few things and use the main bath—”

She took a few steps in and froze.

I was stapled in place my damn self, unable to even speak. I noticed Zoey’s face heat up.
This is it
. This was our first awkward moment. The moment that reminded us who we once were to each other. The one that informed me of Zoey’s sexual being.

“Sooooo,” she sang before stretching her neck, clearly in discomfit. “You’ve met Morris.”