Turn It Loose (8 page)

It doesn’t seem fair.
At all. Things are finally working out for me and I have to leave in seven freaking weeks. I’m still going to pray for a miracle, though. So far God’s had my back. I just hope He still does.

* * *

Jaylah lay in bed thinking about the previous night. Johnny called when he was about to leave the office to see if she wanted to meet for dinner. “Why don’t you just come here?” she asked, promising a home cooked meal. Again he declined, insisting he didn’t want her to go to any trouble. She suspected he just didn’t want to be alone in her flat; his excuses could not save him then.

By all accounts Johnny was into her, she thought. He’d ca
ll to say hello, send her “just thinking abt u” texts in the middle of the day, and looked at her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world. But still, he held back, and it bothered her.

After dinner, they
ambled through Clerkenwell looking in shop windows and discussing plans for the weekend. “Pencil me in for Saturday evening,” he had said, grinning, claiming he had a surprise up his sleeve. Happiness crept through her body and she reached out for him.

They got halfway down the block when his phone rang. “Hey. Yeah, I
just finished dinner,” he said before stepping away to take the call.

A few minu
tes later, he returned with a somber look on his face. Again, Jaylah reached for his hand, but instead of continuing down the crowded street with interlaced fingers, he quickly slipped his hands into his pockets and walked by her side.

A small rebuke, or perhaps he didn’t notice her tiny display of public affection. She wasn’t sure, but it
definitely stung.

“Everything ok?” she asked, noticing the shift in his mood.

“Yeah yeah. Just a bit tired. This deal I’m working on is taking its toll. Ready to head home?”

She wasn’t ready to leave, but agreed to call it a night.
Something was bothering him, but Jaylah didn’t want to press the issue or upset him further. She couldn’t risk a rift, her heart was already wishing for a happily ever after.

They rode in silence
and he dropped her off with little more than a lazy kiss and a promise to call in the morning.

“How typical,” Jaylah said aloud, chiding herself for the sheer volume of thoughts she devoted to Johnny each day. Analyzing their conversations for hidden meaning, trying to figure out his moods, wondering if he liked her as much as she liked him. She felt like she was back in high school. Did Johnny want to go steady? Was he her man? Were they just friends? She wished it were as simple as slipping him a note that read, “Want to be my boyfriend? Circle one: Yes, No, Maybe.”

She toyed with the idea of texting him the question, but quickly brushed it aside. It would make her seem desperate, and probably a
little bit crazy. But more than anything she was afraid of what he might say. “I need to get out of here,” she sighed, “There’s
got
to be something else I can do beside sit here pining over that man.”

Before she could think
it through she pulled on a pair of jeans and a blouse, and headed out the door. She was determined to do
something
, anything that would keep her mind off Johnny today.

Jaylah
hurried through the courtyard of her building to the train station. She marveled at just how clever it was to turn a soccer pitch into Highbury Square’s expansive garden.
Johnny loves soccer
, she thought, wondering if she should surprise him with tickets to a game. Then she pinched herself hard, a punishment for letting her mind wander to him.

She breezed into the
Tube station and headed down to the platform. As she waited, she wondered what Johnny was doing at that exact moment.
Pinch.
Was he thinking about her?
Pinch
. Did he miss her?
Pinch
. Would she see him tonight?
Pinch
.
Pinch. Pinch.
She was determined to break herself from thinking about him today.

But i
t wasn’t working. Not even close.

* * *

Piccadilly Circus was crammed with sightseers gawking at the illuminated signs and for once Jaylah was annoyed. She had crossed over from being a tourist to full-fledged Londoner and being stuck behind elderly Asian travelers snapping pictures on Regent Street was not her idea of a good time.

But it did get her mind off of him—
just for just a minute.

As she inched along the crowded thoroughfare
she brainstormed ways to extend her stay. She had just seven weeks remaining and the thought of leaving made her ill. To her surprise, she was actually building a life in London and she wasn’t willing to just roll over and give it up without a fight.

Jaylah
set a reminder in her phone to ask Amelia if she could prolong her stay in the flat for an additional three months, and she vowed her articles for
Glamour
would have them begging for more.

By the time
she walked the half-mile from Piccadilly Circus to Trafalgar Square Jaylah had a plan.  She would pitch Hillary an idea for a column—sort of an American girl’s take on London—that would incorporate her signature snappy style, hunger to learn about the city, and her knack for scoring sought-after interviews. With her stuffed Rolodex and a little hustle, she wagered the column would prove she was not only a great journalist, but also someone
Glamour
needed to keep on staff. Although she hated to admit it, her years at
the L.A. Weekly
had taught her how to generate a ton of buzz and get readers interested in what she had to say. Only this time she’d be able to write about things she actually cared about, not the senseless drivel she churned out back home.

Jaylah’s phone buzzed, knocking her out of her thoughts. It was
Johnny.

“
Hey, can’t wait to see you tomorrow night,” he texted.

She smiled in spite of herself.
I guess he was thinking about me after all,
she thought as she typed in a hurried reply. “Me to
o
. How’s work?”

“Swamped,” he responded quickly. “The worse is almost over
, though.”

“Nice.
Too bad you can’t sneak out, it’s actually warm.”

“Where are u?”

“Trafalgar Square. Might go to the Portrait Gallery.”

“
Lucky. Have a good time.”

“Thanks. Don’t work too hard, Mr. Poku.”

“I’ll try not to,” he wrote before firing off another message, “miss me?”

If
you only knew,
she snickered to herself, her smile spreading all the way to her heart.

* * *

“Wow! You look…amazing,” Johnny said when Jaylah opened the door wearing a scarlet Bodycon dress that hugged every inch of her figure while still managing to look elegant. Her hair was pulled into a sleek topknot, and she wore the highest pair of stilettos she owned.

“Thank you,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “I just need to
get my bag. Make yourself at home.” She ran to the bedroom to give herself the onceover and throw the outfits she tried on and discarded into the closet—just in case.

“
10…9…8…7…6,” she counted aloud, trying to calm down. “Chill, Jay, chill,” she told herself.

Jaylah
shook out her hands and breathed deeply to calm the storm brewing inside her. Tonight had to be perfect—no breakdowns, awkward memories, or mixed messages allowed. Just she and Johnny and whatever surprise he kept going on about. She steadied herself before walking in to meet him.

“Ready?” she asked as he looked around
the living room.

“Let it go?
” he said pointing to the note near her computer, “what does that mean?”

“Oh…just a reminder. A mantra of sorts,” she said.

“For what?”

“To stay in the moment and
not overthink things like I usually do,” she hoped he bought her explanation. “Anyway, ready?”

“I see,” he said before crossing the room and wrapping
her in his arms. He peered into her eyes, grazed her nose with his, and kissed her. “Now, I’m ready.”

Jaylah hoped he really meant it;
she’d
been
ready.

*  * *

As soon as she saw the pinkish-purple sign on the marquee, Jaylah squeezed his hand. She had wanted to see Fela! for months, but missed the musical the last time it passed through L.A. She had mentioned it to him in passing during one of their marathon phone sessions and was pleasantly surprised and impressed he was not only paying attention, but had gotten tickets to the popular show.

“You remembered,” she said, beaming as they walked through the
Art Deco lobby of the Adelphi Theatre. He kissed the back of her hand and led her to their seats near center stage.

Jaylah looked around the theater and marveled at the opulent gold and red
interior that seemed to glow under the lights. Theatergoers tapped their feet and the room buzzed with conversation as West African drums blared through the speakers. When the lights dimmed and the house band took the stage, Johnny squeezed her knee and let his hand linger on her thigh.

“Have you seen it before?” she asked.

“Nope. First time. But I’ve heard good things.”

This was a good sign, Jaylah
thought; they were experiencing something else for the very first time—together. Their ride on the London Eye had been a first, as was dinner at Pétrus. Sitting next to him in the darkened theater she hoped they’d break another barrier back at her apartment after the show.

When the dancers took the stage, Jaylah was mesmerized by their energy. They told Feli Kuti’s story of persecution and triumph, heartbreak and sheer genius through
each movement of their bodies, which never seemed to stop gyrating and contorting into a bevy of sensual positions.

She couldn’t help
getting turned on. Between the nonstop beat, the shirtless men, and the long-legged, gorgeous women—she wanted to run home and make love to Johnny like they were the last two people on the earth.

“Oh my God,” she said as they walked through the West End back to his car, “That was….hot.
I want to run out and take an African dance class. I need to learn how to move like that.”

“You’ve got some pretty good moves already,” he said, grinning.

“I could always use a few more tricks,” she lowered her voice to a sexy whisper, “you know, for those private moments.”

They let the
air thicken between them as Johnny seemed to mull over her last remark.

When they got to the
parking garage, he pressed her up against the car door instead of opening it and allowed his hands to travel the length of her dress. He traced her face and then her lips with his thumb. When it hovered over her mouth, she slipped his finger inside and sucked it slowly. An invitation.

Johnny
kissed her then, hard and urgent, with a sense of longing he’d never quite shown before. As he hungrily consumed her mouth he cupped her breasts through the fabric of her dress, causing her nipples to stiffen beneath.

She wanted to rip his
suit off and screw him right there, but the chirp of a nearby alarm reminded them they were in public.

They
jumped in his car and Johnny shot out of the garage and down the street like a man possessed. As they drove, he slid his hand between her thighs and began to massage her. She grabbed his arm and leaned into his touch.

“Mmmm,”
she moaned as she began to leak on his fingers.

He pulled up in front of her building and parted her lips with his tongue. He explored her mouth, while his fingers continued to stroke her below.

“In…side…” Jaylah said breathlessly. “Come…inside.”

They tumbled onto the couch, legs and
hands and lips entwined. She straddled him, pulled her dress over her head, and tossed it to the floor. He fingered the black lace bra she bought for the night and pushed the straps down, tracing and her shoulders with his tongue.

He carefully removed her bra like he was unwrapping a delicate package and tickled her nipples with his
fingers. She skimmed the top of his bald head with her lips, then leaned back as he burrowed his face into her soft belly, planting loud kisses from her waist to her thighs.

Jaylah
undid his belt buckle; she was impatient and sick of waiting. “Fuck me, Johnny,” she whispered in his ear, “Please, please baby.”

He laid
her down and slid off her panties. He dropped his pants, revealing a rock-hard cock standing at attention. He hovered over her, allowing his dick to slap between her thighs, and she grabbed for him, ready to feel him move deep inside her.