Torn (35 page)

There was nothing she needed to fear. Worrying was a thing of the past. Negativity no longer knocked at her door.

Sleep came easier; she no longer tossed and turned at night.

She didn't have to prepare her heart for Quan's latest fling, hit or betrayal.

She no longer felt entrapped by life's circumstances. She wasn't the brunt of everyone's jokes anymore. The ache that once filled her heart still existed, but was fading more and more with each day that passed. Mo was free. Free to be whoever she wanted to be, and she loved it.

She loved her job as an A & R even more. The money was cool and she was doing what she loved most - finding new talent. It felt good to call all of the shots and even better to have a place all her own. Over two months had passed since she had last seen or heard from Quan. She was moving on with her life and so was he. And no, she didn't fully blame him for their problems and their relationship being over.

Mo shared her wealth of the blame for their breakup, too.

She didn't sexually satisfy him the way he wanted her to, and she knew that. She didn't support his career decisions. She lied and cheated, too. Looking back on the situation, Mo real- ized that she and Quan were two entirely different people trying to make a relationship that never should've gone past a phone conversation work when it was never meant to.

Sometimes waking up alone every morning felt like being buried alive, and sometimes the silence that surrounded her felt like death. The pain in the center of her chest ached so bad at times that she wanted to call and beg Quan for forgiveness.

She never dreamed she would miss something so simple as a good morning kiss or the dizzying taste of his skin.

Sometimes she wondered what their children would have looked like or how they would have made it as husband and wife.

But as soon as her mind drifted off to these forbidden places, Mo would come back to the realization that she and Quan's relationship was over for a reason. They were never meant to be. There was no turning back. Their love and toler-ance of each other had run its course. Too much had been said and done for them to go back and try again. Walking away was the best thing for both of them to do.

Plus, he'd cheated on her. But it wasn't the cheating that hurt the most. Mo could've dealt with the fact that he'd had sex with Sherry because she'd had sex with other niggas, too.

It was the fact that he put time into the hoe. He'd confided in her, spent money on her, told her he loved her and most importantly had a child with her. That's what stung the most.

Mo just couldn't get over that shit.

The one thing she was most proud of was that she wasn't one of those stupid drug dealers' girlfriends who spent all of their money on shoes and clothes. Being the smart woman she was throughout the years, she'd saved well over three hundred thousand dollars. Thanking God for wisdom, Mo gazed around her loft in astonishment. Everything in her house was hers and paid for by her. Nobody could threaten to take it away or throw it up in her face about what they'd done for her because she'd done it all herself.

The living room walls were painted a pretty shade of pale peach. Steel lights hung from the ceiling. A taupe sloped-back couch with peach satin pillows, metallic vintage tray and chair decorated the area. On the tray were three books stacked and a glass bowl filled with apples.

Underneath the tray lay a black, creme and tan zebra print rug. A huge marble stand stood up against the wall, holding a tan vase, while a black and white photo of Mo taken by the famous photographer Annie Leibovitz hung above. Next to the living room was her kitchen. All of the appliances were black and the cabinets and counter were made of tan wood. An island connected the kitchen to the living room. Biting off the last of her apple, Mo got up and headed to the trash can when she heard a loud knock on the door.

"Who is it?" she questioned before opening.

"Delivery."

Surprised, Mo opened the door in anticipation of what the delivery could be.

"Monsieur?" the delivery guy asked.

"Yes, that's me."

"Could you please sign here?"

"Sure," she replied. Once she was finished signing her name, she was given a vase filled with a dozen pink tulips and a card.

"Have a good day."

"I will, you too." Mo smiled, closing the door. She absolutely loved pink tulips. They were her favorite flower, and only a few people knew that. Opening the card in fear, Mo hoped that the flowers weren't from Quan. Her heart wasn't ready to deal with any romantic gestures from him. Mo's prayers were answered when she recognized her father's handwriting. The card read:

Missing you terribly. I'm always a phone call
away.

Love, Dad.

Mo's heart was on overload she was so happy. For months she'd thought about contacting her father, but couldn't find the right words to convey what she felt. Now that her father had made the first attempt at reconciliation, she felt a little more comfortable giving him a call.

"Hello?" he answered on the third ring.

"Hey, daddy. How you doing?"

"I'm doing good, sweetheart. How are you?"

"Fine. I got the flowers. They're beautiful."

"I'm glad you like them. Your brother told me where you staying. Is everything okay? Do you need anything?"

"Everything's great. I'm fine. I don't need anything."

"That's good. Umm ... sweetheart, I wanted to apologize for not being there when you lost the baby."

"It's okay, daddy." Mo tried her best to downplay the situation.

"No, it's not. I should have been there for you. I should have been there for you years ago when your mama died, but I was so busy dealing with my own grief that I forgot about you kids."

"It's cool, daddy. I understand. Mama's death was hard on everyone."

"I miss her, Mo," her father was finally able to admit.

"I miss her, too, daddy."

Lost in their own thoughts, Mo and her father held the phone in silence. A couple minutes passed before either of them spoke.

"What you doing Sunday? Do you have any plans, 'cause if not you should come by for dinner," he suggested.

"Nothing. I've been dying for some barbeque chicken wings. Will you make me some?"

"Sure, sweetheart."

"Well I'll see you Sunday."

"Okay. It was good talking to you, sweetie."

"It was good talkin' to you, too."

"I love you, Monsieur."

"I love you, too, daddy," she replied before hanging up.

Mo felt even better then she did before as she made her way into her bedroom to pick out an outfit. In a couple of hours she had to be at Club Dreams for Unsigned Hype night.

There were a couple of acts the label execs at her job wanted her to check out. But first she had to meet her two best friends for dinner at Mandarin.

"What will I wear?" she questioned herself.

Mo had so many clothes that she had to dedicate one of the two bedrooms in her loft to her clothes alone. Once she was showered and dressed, she grabbed her gold Vivenne Westwood clutch purse and headed out the door. Mo was appropriately dressed in a pastel-colored spaghetti-strapped mini-dress designed by Nanette Lepore. To jazz up the outfit she rocked a lavender belt wrapped around her waist and peep-toe Roberto Cavalli heels. Huge gold heart-shaped earrings and necklace accentuated the Amerie-like hairdo she wore in her hair.

Fifteen minutes later, she and her friends were seated and chatting away.

"So how is the job going, Mo?" Mina asked, eating a piece of buttered bread.

"Good. As a matter of fact, after this I have to head over to Dreams to check out a few groups. They're having Unsigned Hype night. Y'all should roll."

"I would but I have to be at the shop early in the morning," Delicious responded. "Plus, I promised my lil' tender some hot new booty moves."

"Aghh, we did not need to hear that. TMI muthafucka, TMI." Mo pretended to throw up.

"Don't hate 'cause you ain't got no new meat."

"Whateva."

"I know one thing, y'all better come to Mandingo Monday wit me." Delicious pointed his butter knife back and forth between Mina and Mo.

"I think not."

"An-y-way ..." He rolled his eyes. "I gots to get my missionary position on tonight. I went and got me a nurse cos-tume, portable pole and everything. I ain't about to let this lil' daddy slip through my fingers. I'ma do everything I can do to keep that nigga on his toes or else the next nigga wit a fat ass will be fuckin' my man. Oops, my bad, I guess you know first hand all about that, Mo."

"Fuck you."

"I'm just keepin' it funky. Niggas love that freaky shit.

That's why when I get home tonight I'ma cut me on some Janet Jackson circa 1992 and me and Ra'heem a.k.a.

Chocolate Cocaine gon' get it poppin'."

"Chocolate Cocaine? What in the hell kind of name is that?"

"You must ain't never had no fire dick? Look ... only a select few can don the name Chocolate Cocaine. Now Chocolate Cocaine is a nigga that fuck you so good he have yo' ass going through withdrawals, you be feenin' for the dick so bad. After the first time y'all fuck you go out and buy that muthafucka an outfit, hat and pair of Tims. And on top of that fix his ass breakfast, lunch and dinner." "Hell naw." Mo couldn't help but giggle.

"Hmm, girl, he tellin' the truth. One time Victor put it on me so good I couldn't even walk straight. Every time I tried to take a step, my ass almost fell," Mina added.

"So I'm the only one over here not gettin' dicked down and on top of that I'm supposed to take sex advice from Delicious? Y'all muthafuckas done lost y'all mind."

"A'ight, don't say we ain't try to tell you. Delicious done taught me some tricks to try at home with Victor and
ba-by
I swear to God when I did it that nigga was screamin' and shaking like a lil' bitch."

"Victor?"

"Yes! Victor Gonzalez, head of the Gonzalez family cartel, that nigga."

"Okay, I'ma play along wit y'all. What kind of moves?" Mo crossed her arms, still skeptical.

"It's this one move called the Sneak-A-Peek."

"Sneak-A-Peek?"

"Yeah. First you do a little sexy striptease for ya boo. Then you get on a sturdy surface like a table or counter top. Once you're up there you place your butt on the edge so it kinda hangs off and while he's standing in front of you, slowly ease back and give him a coochie shot."

"Oh, hell naw, this is too much goddamn work," Mo complained, waving off the idea.

"See, that's the reason why ya nigga was cheating on you wit that hood rat bitch. Quit being a lazy fuck and listen," Delicious chimed in.

"Boooy," Mo stressed, ready to go off.

"Guuurl," he stressed right back.

"Are y'all done?" Mina questioned, aggravated by their childish behavior.

"Umm hmm." Mo crossed her legs and rolled her eyes.

"Now an-y-way, where was I at? Okay, yeah, then you prop yourself up on your elbows, spread your legs and lift them in the air so they can rest on his shoulders. Now he can keep them there by holding on to your calves or your ankles. "

"Okay and what is so special about that?"

"You'll both enjoy it because each of you can see each others' facial expressions while he's hittin' it, and he's gettin' a good view of your entire upper body. But to add a little more spice to it, you need to occasionally throw your head back and finger your clit. Ooh, and every now an' then while Victor's beatin' it up, I like to take the dick out ... and slide it up and down my pussy lips," Mina whispered, so none of the other people in the restaurant could hear. "Not only does that turn him on, but he last longer, and that means more enjoyment for me. Giiiirl, by the time we finish, Victor and I be cumming all over the place."

"So you and Victor just some big ole freaks over there in that mansion? I'm callin' child protective services," Mo teased.

"Whateva, how else you think I became wifey."

"Well alright, ma'am. I guess you schooled me."

"So what I wanna know is if you wasn't gettin' broke off at home, then what did you and Quan do in bed?" Delicious questioned, taking a sip of wine.

"The regular stuff," Mo shrugged, embarrassed by the question.

"Like?"

"Doggystyle, missionary, you know. That kind of stuff."

"BO-RING! Girl, did the nigga eat you out until yo' thighs shaked?"

"Yeah, all the time."

"Did he fuck you so good you couldn't walk straight the next day?"

"No?"

"Did you suck his dick until he pumped babies on your face?"

"Eww, hell naw." Mo shook her head in disgust.

"I see why that nigga cheated on you. See, that's your problem. You gotta work hard to keep a man, Mo. Being nice and sweet just ain't gon' cut it. You got to get yo' Tera Patrick, Jenna Jameson on sometimes, 'cause please believe what you won't do another bitch will in a hot second."