Higher Love Page 3

  Me: Hey, man. U 2 can head on out. I’m gonna catch a later flight.

  Brandon: Damn, u couldn’t let me know before now? I been calling ur rusty ass all morning!

  Me: My bad. I overslept.

  Brandon: I bet u did. Be careful. U know what happened the last time u “overslept.”

  Me: Whatever. I’ll call u later.

  Brandon: Alright.

  I eased the phone back onto the table and felt her stir.

  “What time is it?” she asked through a yawn. “Did I spend the night?”

  “Yeah, you did,” I replied as I rubbed my thumb across her shoulder.

  “Hmm, what time is it?” she repeated.

  “A little after four.”

  “You need to leave? I can go back to my room. I need to start packing any—”

  I flipped her onto her back and pinned her to the bed.

  “Oh…so you don’t want me to go?” she said with a slight grin.

  I moved in and kissed her, and she gently bit my lip. I growled softly as she pushed me off of her onto my back, and straddled me. She pulled her bikini top completely off and my eyes took in the smoothness of the brown skin of her chest and neck. She leaned forward, dangling her breasts over me like a carrot in front of a horse. I reached up to touch them, but she swatted my hand away. “I thought you had an early flight,” she said pointedly.

  “I did.” I lifted my head to kiss her again.

  She straightened her posture, now just out of my reach, and shook her head. “Uh-uh, what happened?”

  I sat up and faced her, pulled her closer to me and slid my hand between her legs. As I stroked her treasure, I said, “Change of plans.”

  8

  I think maybe I lost my mind or something.

  At the very least, I was pretty sure I could claim temporary insanity.

  Why else would I have agreed to spend three more days in Virginia with a man who thought my name was Monique and whose last name he didn’t bother to give me and I didn’t bother to inquire about? Why else would I check out of my own room and move into his for those three days? Why did I share breakfast, lunch, and dinner with him every day and dessert with him between the sheets several times a day? Okay, maybe it was good-dick-itis. Because this man had mad, crazy, off-the-charts bedroom skills. Our sex was mind-blowing, explosive, and a laundry list of other superlatives that I could probably neither spell nor pronounce.

  Good. Lord.

  And he wasn’t stingy with it, either. I lost count of how many times we made the bed in his room creak, how many times he made my insides turn into slush, how many times I shook and shuddered from the effects of his sex. I had never experienced anything like it before and to be totally honest, it was addictive.

  Too addictive.

  Now I understood why some women lost it over certain men. I didn’t want to become that chick, but saw how easily it could happen. And then there was Lloyd, or rather my need to properly process the fact that there no longer was a Lloyd in my life, but how could I do that if I kept opening my legs for Derek, and lying underneath Derek, or climbing on top of Derek, or backing it up to Derek over and over and over and over and over and over and over again?

  So when he asked if I wanted to extend our time together even further, I told him no. I had a life to get back to and a mind to find again. What we shared was wonderful, but it was superficial and unreal and futureless. We didn’t know each other, hadn’t even attempted to know each other. So six days after arriving in Virginia, I crept out of his room early that morning while he was in the shower, leaving behind a note thanking him for sharing his time and his room with me. I signed it Monique.

  9

  “Heifer, where have you been?!” greeted Trevia as soon as I stepped over the threshold into my apartment in Dallas. She was perched on a chair she’d evidently pulled from my kitchen into my living room.

  Denise, who was sprawled out on my couch, interjected, “Probably off screwing some strange man. Shoot, that’s what I would do if I were her.”

  “I’m taking my keys back. Y’all are abusing that privilege,” I said as I walked through the living room to my bedroom, where I sat on the side of my bed and pulled my shoes off.

  “We were checking on your house like you asked. You could have at least been courteous enough to call and tell us you were staying longer,” Trevia said, as she and Denise followed me into my room.

  “I texted you.”

  “A text is not a call,” Denise offered.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m sorry, Wardens Trevia and Denise, that I did not call you two. We good now? Why aren’t y’all at work?”

  “It’s seven in the evening. We’re off,” Trevia offered.

  “Oh,” I said. “Right.”

  Denise stood next to my dresser and stared at me as Trevia plopped down on the bed beside me.

  “I didn’t get you two any souvenirs this time. Sorry.”

  “What’s his name?” Denise asked.

  Trevia was now staring at me, too.

  “Whose name?” I asked, trying not to smile.

  Trevia hopped up and shouted, “You slept with some random guy in Virginia?! You?!”

  “What do you mean you?” I asked, feeling a little offended. I wasn’t a prude, was I?

  “I’m just saying, you’ve never been the sex-without-a-relationship type. That’s all.”

  “I never said I had sex with anyone, Trevia.”

  “But you did, and it was good. I can tell,” Denise said with a grin on her face. “Details, please. I need to know who’s got you glowing like that. Whoever he is had a magic touch that Lloyd definitely does not possess, because in all the time you two were together, I never saw you look like this or walk like you walked into this place a minute ago.”

  I hated she’d brought him up. I hadn’t thought about him in days. “How was I walking, ’Nise?”

  “Like someone put it on you!”

  I smiled and gave them both a sly look. “That’s probably because someone did…”

  “Aw, snap! Do tell!” Trevia said with wide eyes.

  “Well…”

  I told them the truth—that we’d met at the festival, kept running into each other, and spent time together.

  “He was really fine, huh?” Denise asked.

  “Finer than fine,” I replied.

  “I know you took a picture of him,” Trevia said.

  “Um, actually I didn’t.”

  “You’re gonna keep in touch, see where things go?” Trevia asked.

  “No, we didn’t exchange information. I kind of wanted to leave what we shared in Virginia, you know?”

  “Nope, because I would’ve gotten his number, address, social security number, blood type—”

  “Denise!” Trevia and I screamed in unison.

  “I’m just saying. That sounds like some kind of man.”

  “Yeah, he was.”

  They stayed for another thirty minutes before leaving. After locking the door behind them, I dug my cell phone out of my purse and scrolled to a picture I’d taken of Derek while he ate breakfast in our hotel room one morning. He was shirtless, and the sunlight from the window was hitting him just right. I sighed and fell onto my bed thinking about what we did after breakfast that morning.

  10

  “I bought a cat and named it Bitch Mode,” my brother said.

  I looked up from my steak and frowned. “What?”

  “So you heard that? I was just checking, because I’m pretty sure you didn’t hear anything else I’ve said during this entire conversation.”

  “I…I’m sorry, man.”

  “You invited me to lunch, remember? A supposed business lunch where we were supposed to discuss business, our business. You know, the little company our folks left us? But so far all you’ve done is stare at that sirloin and ignore me. The hell is wrong with you, Derek? Is it that chick from Virginia?”

  “I don’t think she’s from Virginia,” I said.


  “You don’t think? Come on, man…how can you be this messed up over a woman when you don’t even know where she lives?”

  I picked up the knife and fork and cut into the steak—medium well to perfection. “Shit, Brandon, I don’t know. Hey, what were you saying about the Hofstra account?”

  “Don’t change the subject now. You need to call that woman and talk to her or something. Schedule a booty call. Do something so you can get back to normal. We’ve got a company to run and you can’t do it if you’re stuck in some sprung catatonic state.”

  I took a bite of my steak. “I’m not sprung.”

  “The hell you’re not. I know sprung when I see it. Being sprung is what got me married. I know sprung.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, you’ve been sprung forever, man. Forever.”

  “With good reason. Believe me. So, you gonna call her?”

  I cleared my throat and leaned back in my chair. “I can’t. I don’t have her number.”

  “What?! You spent damn near a week with her and you didn’t get her number?”

  “I actually spent three days and four nights with her. It took me the three days before that just to get with her.”

  He stared at me.

  “Uh…we kind of didn’t share much personal information. It was fun at first, you know? I liked the freedom of it, and I figured it was best with my current situation.” I didn’t bother to tell him I had planned to exchange information with her before we parted ways but she ducked out on me before we could. I was still a little pissed and maybe even a little hurt about that, because while I could admit I might’ve been sprung, I was positive that she was, too.

  “You shouldn’t be in that situation and you know it. I told you—”

  “I know what you told me about her, but do you have to rub it in? I’m working on fixing it.”

  “You keep saying that, but nothing has changed, little bro. Hey, I’m just looking out for you like I always have.”

  “I know, I know. I thought I had a handle on things, but…”

  “You didn’t count on getting sprung in the meantime, huh?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “What are you gonna do about it, the Virginia woman situation, I mean?”

  “Nothing. I’m going to concentrate on work and straightening up the mess I made.”

  “That’s it?”

  “What else can I do?”

  “Try to find her.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think she wants to be found, and I ain’t into forcing myself on no one. Never have, and never will.”

  “What makes you say she doesn’t want to be found?”

  “Just a feeling. Let’s just drop it and talk business. I’m listening.”

  11

  …Overall, my experience at the Neo Soul Festival was wonderful. The variety of food vendors was excellent. If you go next year, be sure to check out Andress’s Caribbean Delights. Their jerk chicken was nothing short of divine. If you have a sweet tooth, try the fried dough at Margaret’s. And for libations, try Jimmy’s.

  My favorite product vendor was Katrina’s Scentsations, which carried everything from scented natural soaps to soy candles. I’d also like to mention Grass Roots, a vendor that sold African print women’s clothing. I copped a gorgeous skirt from them (See picture below). I hope these vendors return next year, but if not, I’m told they are all local businesses, so if you happen to visit Cromer, Virginia, be sure to give them your business.

  All in all, I give the hotel a B+ and the festival itself an A.

  Until next time, I’m Greer Kennedy,

  Your Nubian Nomad.

  As I finally ended my past-due blog post, I sat back and sighed, glanced at the ring I still wore for some crazy reason, and wished I could share the entire truth with my readers. It would’ve been nice if I could tell them my frame of mind, how I arrived in Virginia a happily engaged woman and how that changed in less than twenty-four hours after my arrival. Or how I chose to cope with an unexpected break-up by having anonymous sex with a strange guy who had to have majored in Putting It On A Woman 101 in college, graduated Summa Cum Laude, and then went on to obtain his Ph.D. and was now known as Dr. The Best Sex You’ll Ever Have In Your Entire Life. All of that would’ve been scandalous and made me seem like a ho’, but it would’ve made for a much more interesting post, because what I’d written sounded dry and uninteresting to me. I could only imagine how it would bore my readers to tears.

  I was off my game, and it was all Lloyd’s fault. My posts were usually filled with anecdotal humor. I was convinced that was what made my blog popular enough to attract great sponsors and draw tons of readers every month. But I found it hard to think of anything humorous to share with my readers, because my mind was in a my-fiancé-dumped-me-via-Facebook haze and I was sure it was because I didn’t have any closure. It had been a week since I returned home, more than a week since the ball dropped and smashed my future, and I still didn’t understand why what happened…happened. Lloyd had not called me to explain or offer a real apology, and I hadn’t attempted to call or see him. Maybe I should’ve taken Denise’s advice and rode up on him.

  No, I wasn’t going to do that. I wasn’t going to pop up and act a fool over some man who obviously didn’t want me.

  But I needed—no—I deserved answers.

  Yeah, after two years of a relationship, I deserved much more than a two-word email, and I was going to get it. I glanced at the time on my phone—7:30 PM. He’d be home from work by now if he was still the Lloyd I knew and loved, a true creature of habit. Lloyd was steady, predictable. Or at least he was until he dumped me. I definitely wasn’t expecting that.

  I grabbed my keys and purse, looked down at my t-shirt and joggers, and shook my head. I wasn’t going to confront the man looking like I was pining away for him even if I kind of, sort of was. I was going to look so good, he’d see me and instantly regret his actions. So I showered for the first time that day, sprayed on his favorite perfume, dressed in a black sleeveless jumpsuit and a pair of red stilettos, pulled my braids up into a top knot, applied mascara, eye-liner, and lip gloss, and left.

  It was when I arrived at Lloyd’s house that I got cold feet. I should’ve called Denise and had her ride with me.

  I parked down the street a ways from his ranch-style home, a home I’d spent many nights in—and started having second thoughts. What if he spotted my loud-ass car sitting on the street and called the police or something since he obviously didn’t want to be bothered with me? What if I knocked and he found out it was me at the door and ignored me? Or what if he opened the door and treated me like some stalker? What if he slammed it in my face? No, I couldn’t take the chance of any of that happening. I’d already been humiliated enough since everyone we knew was aware of the fact that he was now engaged to another woman. And anyone who followed Lloyd on Facebook knew he was engaged to me one day and Tami the next. Yep, that was definitely enough humiliation.

  Maybe I should’ve attempted to have a relationship with Dr. The Best Sex You’ll Ever Have In Your Entire Life. If I had, perhaps my stupid ass wouldn’t have been sitting down the street from Lloyd’s, staring at his car in his driveway feeling...well, dumb.

  I gripped the key, ready to start my car and leave, when I saw him. Tall, handsome, used to be mine. He had walked out of the front door and stepped to the side. A second later, a woman walked out and grabbed his hand. A woman I’d never seen before.

  Tami?

  I watched Lloyd close the door and lock it. He wore the red oxford shirt I bought him for his birthday a couple of months earlier, because I thought his monochrome-wearing ass needed some color in his life. But at that moment, I wanted to snatch that bitch off his deceptive, two-timing ass, wrap one of the sleeves around his neck, and strangle him with it. He was also wearing slacks. Tami was wearing a blue swing dress. She was much shorter than him. She even looked to be shorter than my five-feet, three inches. From what I could see at that distance, she look
ed attractive enough—medium brown skin, shoulder-length hair styled in a bob, maybe a size eight to my size ten. I supposed they were heading out to celebrate something like making the Nubian Nomad look like a damn fool, or maybe they were just going out to dinner. Lloyd was always good for a dinner date.

  He walked her to the passenger side of his BMW, which I had a good view of from my vantage point, and before opening the door for her, he kissed her. Then he placed his hand on her stomach, bent over, and kissed it, too.

  She was pregnant?

  12

  I sat there for thirty minutes after he left before the shock and numbness wore off, then I climbed out of my car, walked to his house, and tried my key to his door to find the lock had been changed, but was that really a surprise? I stood there for a minute and noticed the mail slot on the door that had always been there, thought about the love notes I’d drop in there sometimes just so he’d have a little surprise when he made it home from work. I snatched the ring off of my finger, opened the mail slot, and tossed the ring inside where I heard it land on his hardwood floor. I hoped his ass stepped on it, had a little slip and fall, and broke his damn neck. What a total piece of shit!

  I kind of hoped Tami wouldn’t be the victim of a slip and fall at my hands since she was with child, but if she was, so be it. She shouldn’t have gotten herself knocked up by my man.

  When I got back to my place, I purged it of any evidence that Lloyd existed—ripped up pictures and cards, threw away gifts no matter how expensive they were. Got rid of his toothbrush and the two or three shirts and pairs of pants he’d left at my place. I deleted my Facebook page altogether rather than just change my relationship status. My main social media outlets for the blog were Instagram and Twitter, and as those were where the bulk of my followers were, I wasn’t worried about having a Facebook page. I deleted any emails or text messages I’d ever received from him, finally called my parents and told them the engagement was off. I actually think they were glad they wouldn’t have to come back to the states for the wedding since they spent all of their time traveling abroad. After I’d successfully deleted Lloyd Robinson from my life, I sat on my sofa and stared into space for a solid hour before calling Trevia.