The Choir Director 2 (17 page)

I got out of Aaron's car, waving good-bye to him as I walked toward my apartment building. As soon as he disappeared out of sight, the smile dropped from my face and I stomped my foot on the sidewalk in a hissy fit. I couldn't believe I had come that close to having him upstairs in my apartment only to be thwarted by some supposed “personal emergency” he had to take care of. I had plans for Aaron that went far beyond sock-it-to-me cake. He had no idea what surprise I had in store for him upstairs, but now it would have to wait.

I struggled with my key in the lock, frustrated by the unhappy turn my night had taken. One minute I was about to have Aaron Mackie served up for dinner, and the next I'm stomping up the stairs to my apartment. I entered in a huff and threw my things down on the counter. The First Jamaica Ministries Choir songbook landed with a thud on the floor. I'd study those songs another time, I fumed. There was no way in hell I was in any mood to sing church songs.

“Hey,” a voice called out from the living room.

I turned to find Lynn stretched out provocatively on the sofa. She was wearing a body-hugging teddy with garters and fuck-me-now pumps, her long curly wig falling past her shoulders. Girl had a figure that made men want to pounce: big luscious breasts, tiny waist, and ass ripe enough to make you want to take a bite. She pierced me with her hazel cat eyes narrowed into a frown.

“What happened? Where is he?” she pouted.

“I don't want to fucking talk about it.” I kicked off my heels and started pacing the length of the room like a caged zoo animal.

“I thought you were bringing him home.”

“I was this close to having him come up, and poof! It all went away with one mention of Tia,” I fumed. “He's got that wench on the brain.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Lynn snapped. Even she couldn't believe that a man could resist my game. She shifted her tone when she saw how upset I was getting. “Hey, sooner or later he'll come around. Your time will come. It always does,” she added knowingly.

I stopped pacing and stood near the couch, my whole body tight with tension. “If we want this to happen, then we need to get rid of Tia. That bitch is in the way.”

Still lying on the couch, Lynn looked me up and down, taking in every single curve. “Fuck Tia. I'll take care of her ass personally.” She reached out and placed a hand gently on my leg. “We're gonna make this happen.”

“But I wanted it to be today!” I whined. It hurt to get so close to something you've been longing for, only to have it snatched away.

“Hey, aren't you the one who taught me about patience?” she teased me, trying to lighten my mood. “All those months you made me wait to be with you, to taste how sweet you really are.”

“Yeah, but you were a lady-killer. You had a reputation of being over the ex one and on to the next one, what, every two months?”

“I bore easily,” she said casually. “But then again, there is no one like you. Desiree, you've waited this long to get what you want. Relax. You'll get it, and Aaron will get the surprise of his life.” Lynn's hands worked their way down my body. “Hmmm. Well, enough about Aaron Mackie. You take your pills?” It was her way of letting me know that she cared about me no matter what.

“Yes, I took the last one yesterday.”

“Good, 'cause this is nothing to play with. It's your life.”

“Look, stop babying me. I took the medication just like the doctor ordered.” She was starting to get on my nerves and she knew it.

“You know what I'd like to do?” She was all smiles as she reached out to touch my inner thigh.

“I'm too wound up.” I clenched my legs together, feeling as stiff as a board.

“Let me see if I can make you feel better.” She gripped my hips between her hands. Next thing I knew, her head was up under my skirt. I felt her teeth snatch the rim of my thong and pull it down. She buried her head into my crotch and began licking and pulling at my pubic hair. My knees felt ready to give out.

“I gotta lay down,” I murmured. Lynn released me and I lowered myself onto the couch. She snatched my legs apart and dove down in between them as if this was the last meal of a dying man. She kept teasing me, licking and blowing on me, bringing me to the edge. As soon as I raised my hips up off the couch in anticipation of an orgasm, she would stop.

Lynn slid up my body and unbuttoned my blouse. She helped me out of it, and then she reached around to the back of my bra and unsnapped my ladies like a real professional. She lowered her mouth onto my nipple, gripping it between her teeth as she tugged it, suckling and licking me into submission.

Damn, I needed this
, I thought. Even when you think you're not in the mood, the right touch turns it all around.

“You wanna come?” Lynn taunted me once she returned to my clit, licking and flicking it with her tongue.

“Yes! Please!” I begged.

“How badly do you want to come?”

“So bad, baby.”

“Do you like this better than being with a man?” Her voice was hoarse.

“Fuck! Yes!” I shouted as she brought me closer to orgasm. I would have said anything to make her continue. I grabbed the back of her head, her curly hair twirling between my fingers. She pursed her lips and sucked down on my clit, sending me into spasms of ecstasy. “Yes, yes, yes!” I cried out as my back arched and then relaxed, moving in rhythm like a wave.

Once I caught my breath, I grabbed Lynn and flipped her down on the couch doggy style, so that her tight, round ass was sticking in the air. I snatched her teddy up over her cheeks and began to lick her from one end of her ass to the other.

“Oooh,” Lynn cried out. I reached my fingers under her and started to massage the area around the opening of her vagina. I loved that she went Brazilian to make my job easier. There was nothing to get in the way of her smooth pussy.

And of course she was so predictable. If I ever went near her, she immediately got moist in anticipation. My fingers slid inside of her easily, getting drenched in her juices. I wriggled my fingers until she crashed against them, rubbing her walls against my hand. I expertly brought her to orgasm after orgasm.

She leaned up and grabbed me, wrapping her legs around my waist. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I responded, feeling all open and safe. She was the first person since my dad died who had allowed me to be myself, with all my issues and fears and anger, so when I said those words to her, I really meant it.

After my father died, my mother sank into a deep, dark hole of grief that she never fully emerged from. I hadn't just lost one parent; I lost them both. This was what made my rage over the situation so deep and endless. Even after my mother got a job and became able to function again, I had already learned to be independent—and lost my ability to trust.

“We're gonna make all your dreams come true.” Lynn shook me out of my sad stroll down Memory Lane. She knew me well enough to know what was on my mind. I knew she had my back no matter what.

“Even if they are other people's nightmares.” She laughed and kissed me on the lips, letting me know this was only the beginning of our evening.

“Hungry?” I asked between kisses. After this first round of lovemaking, my stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't really eaten since breakfast.

“Hell yeah. That stupid-ass cake you made looks terrible.”

“Yeah, well, that cake is gonna get me exactly where I want to be,” I reminded her. “You do understand this whole plan is about one thing?”

“Yeah,” she said, giving me that devilish smile I loved. “Aaron Mackie.”

Staring out through the metal bars that confined me in the Queens Central Booking holding cell, one thing had become painfully clear: I'd fucked up royally. Most of my life I'd done all the right things. I'd gone to college, married the woman I loved before getting her knocked up, and I regularly tithed ten percent to the church. And yet, here I was, sitting on a bench next to some big stank brotha with a tattoo that said
Bubba
on his arm, like he was too damn stupid to remember his own name. I felt foolish and ashamed. I was in a complete free fall, and it was all because I underestimated that son of a bitch Jackson Young. Not only did he take my best friend and client and turn him against me, but now he was the cause of a serious rift between me and my pastor. The bruises left behind when both Aaron and the bishop decided to land their fists against my eyes as part of my severance package were a physical reminder of how much I hated Jackson Young.

What was I thinking in the first place? Driving drunk like some irresponsible teenager instead of a grown man with a pregnant wife and a mortgage to pay? I swore that when I got out of here I was recommitting my life to God and getting back on the straight and narrow. Somewhere along the way I'd gotten lost, and this was my wake-up call. This was as bad as things ever needed to get.

“Anybody got a smoke?” a wiry kid who looked like he wasn't old enough to shave asked no one in particular. Instead of receiving an answer, he got a hostile look that cut him down quick.

“Nah, I don't have any,” I responded, feeling bad for the kid—almost as bad as I felt for myself. Jackson had set a trap, and my dumb ass had stepped right into it, hollering and acting like a fool, letting him make me look crazy and possessive. I was determined to fix that as soon as I got out of this place.

“Ross Parker!” An official-sounding voice barked out my name. As I approached, an officer holding a clipboard met me at the door. “You made bail.”

A couple of the brothas in the cell started hating on me, but I was so relieved to have my freedom back that I barely paid them any attention. I followed him through a series of doors until we were back in the waiting area where I had turned over my personal belongings. Pippie stood there looking as tired as I felt.

“You all right?” he asked as I signed for my things.

“Yeah. Is Selena here?” I looked around, eager to see my wife.

“Nah, I never reached her. The bishop put up the money to bail you out.”

“He did?” I was surprised. I didn't expect any help from him or Aaron anytime soon. Except for the moment he lost his temper and hit me, I guess he really did practice what he preached.

“Yeah, but he didn't stick around. He had a funeral to go to.”

“Guess he's really done with me, huh?”

“He's not happy with you,” Pippie confirmed, “but he didn't want to see you in jail. He told me to tell you to stop by the church tomorrow.”

I was relieved that Bishop Wilson seemed willing to forgive and forget, but his wasn't the only friendship that Jackson had stolen from me.

“What about Aaron? I gotta talk to him about Jackson. I was thinking about it while I was in here, and this just ain't adding up. That is one bad dude.”

Pippie gave me a look that said he thought I was wasting his time by stating the obvious.

“No, man, I mean it's more than just the contract thing. Not only did the guy set me up, but I really think he's got something else going on. Something's not right. I'm telling you, I got a bad feeling here. Aaron—”

Pippie cut me off. “Ross, Aaron's got nothing for you right now. It might be best if you went home to your wife and let things continue to cool off between you and him. Go home and get a good night's sleep.”

There was no denying that he was dead right about that. I really needed to see my woman. Selena instinctively knew how to make me feel better. She could always see the bright side when I couldn't. Boy, did I need her warm arms and soft lips right now.

“Yeah, you're right,” I said as I got in my car. This time I was leaving the driving up to Pippie. I passed out in the passenger seat not long after we started moving.

“You're home, man,” Pippie announced when we pulled into my driveway sometime near midnight.

“Yeah, and it's a good thing, 'cause I'm beat.” I gave Pippie a high five. “Hey, thanks for everything.”

“That's what friends are for.”

I got out of the car, watched Pippie pull off, and then walked to the front door. I'd been away from home for almost two days, so I fully expected to get an earful from my wife. Funny thing was, I was okay with it. I'd messed up and I knew it. As long as she let me in the front door, I was okay with whatever cussing out she wanted to give me. I knew that once she got it out of her system, we could make up and make love.

Before I could put my key in the lock, the doorknob turned.

“Here it comes,” I thought.

The door swung open and I saw that it wasn't my wife standing in the doorway, but her brother. We called him Tank, because he was built like one. He was carrying a suitcase that I recognized as one of Selena's. First thing that came to my mind was that she had gone into labor.

“Hey, man, is Selena all right?” I wanted to push by him, but his girth took up almost the entire doorway.

“What the fuck did you do to my sister?” He gave me a look that I don't think I will ever forget. Tank and I had always been cool—hell, we were like brothers—so his choice of words had me confused and concerned.

“What do you mean, what did I do to her? I didn't do anything. I was in jail.”

“Is that where your face got jacked up?” he said.

I'd forgotten how bad I looked. “I got in a fight.”

“Looks like you lost. Same thing's gonna happen to you again if you touch my sister. She's already in there crying her eyes out.” With that, he pushed past me and stepped outside, pulling out his phone.

I hurried inside and stopped dead in my tracks at what I saw—or rather, what I didn't see.

“Selena!” I called out from the living room, and my voice reverberated back at me like I was in an echo chamber. I stumbled through the dining room, which was also empty, still calling out for my wife. I wasn't even sure I was at the right address anymore.

She didn't answer, which worried me even more. Then I heard a light tapping sound, like something hitting against the hardwood floors. I followed the noise through the house and into the bedroom, only to find my wife sitting in the center of the empty room in a lone rocking chair.

“Selena, what's going on? Where is all of our furniture?”

“It's in storage,” she responded, wiping tears off her face.

“Storage? What the hell? What happened?” My mind went immediately to Jackson. He'd already ruined my friendship with Aaron. Was he out to destroy my marriage now too?

“The doctor's office called,” she said.

“Is the baby okay?” I took a step toward her, but she put out a hand, warning me to keep my distance.

“He better be,” she said in a tone full of hate. “The doctor gave me a prescription for antibiotics. He also gave me a prescription for you.” She tossed a piece of paper at me.

“Selena? What the hell is going on? Why do we need prescriptions?” I couldn't fathom what Jackson had done to trick her. I was utterly confused.

She pierced me with a hard look. “You know, before today you couldn't have paid me to think that my husband would ever cheat on me. Now look at me. Don't I look like a damn fool?”

“Honey, what are you talking about? I never cheated on you,” I swore. I tried to take another step toward her, but the look of sheer hatred stopped me in my tracks.

“Selena! I didn't. I swear.”

“You never cheated? Never?” she raged at me.

“No, never!” I insisted.

“Really.” She sighed. “Then how come I have syphilis?” I was stunned silent. “Go ahead. Make up some shit that makes sense, please, because the blood test doesn't lie.”

“Oh my God! That stripper at the bachelor party!” The cold expression on her face made me realize that I'd said the words out loud.

Selena jumped up. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Her face was crimson. “You risked both our lives and our baby's life to fuck a nasty-ass stripper at a bachelor party?” She looked ready to collapse. I reached out to her, wanting to take away the pain and hurt. I tried to pull her into my arms, but she fought me like a wildcat.

“Please, baby, I love you. I fucked up, but I'm so sorry. Please.” I reached out and placed my hands on her face, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I really fucked up, but, baby, I love you. I love our family.”

“Get your motherfuckin' paws off of me. You disgust me!” She pulled away.

“Selena, please. I can't lose you!” I fell to my knees and held on to her legs, desperate to save my family.

“Get off of me!” she screamed. “I hate you! I fuckin' hate you!” she raged at me, but at least she had stopped moving toward the door.

“I can't lose you. You are my life.”

“Get off of me, Ross!”

“I won't let you go!” I gripped her even tighter.

“Get off of her!” Tank, whose six-foot-three, 260-pound frame seemed to grow right before my eyes, grabbed the back of my neck with his massive hand.

“Man, stay out of this. This is between me and my wife.”

“Ross, if you don't get your hands off my sister, I'm gonna break your fucking neck.” He tightened his grip to let me know he was capable of doing just as he'd threatened. I released Selena and fell back onto the floor. Tank took Selena's arm and led her out of our house. As I watched her leave, it felt like the end of my life.