F.O.U.R Letter Word
a message from your network: hello! and welcome to the pilot episode of Four Letter Word. this series is loosely based on the hit show Sex and the City! this is also my first roman reigns/jimmy uso fic...ever. so please any and all feedback is welcome. happy ' watching'
starring roman reigns x black! oc, jimmy uso x black! oc, black! oc x poc oc!
content warning: nsfw, explicit language, tiny angst, alluded themes of mental health mentions, mild smut. also may cause happiness from viewing.
rated: tv-ma
not rated for viewers under 18+ (mdni)
running time: 10.5k words
Once upon a time in the city of angels , a young and freshly graduated black girl found herself stumbling around through the busy traffic ridden streets hoping to not get hit by carriages or pieces of the sky, better known as construction beams, while navigating through the many characters and creatures it had to offer.
She’d moved to the city to begin her job of dressing and tailoring to the princes and princesses of a small New York Theatre.
A dream of hers she had since she was a child.
But while this opportunity was a dream come true, it wasn’t exactly all she’d wished for on that little star each night before bed.
No, she’d also dreamed of the one thing she knew in her mind would help her fairytale become a happily ever after sequence: A Husband….or Wife.
So, while she continued to work and construct her craft professionally during the day, at night she was looking for someone who could help construct and build her life alongside theirs personally.
Upon this search she would encounter men whose true personalities and intentions appeared upon the midnight hour, both women and men whose magic spells of attractiveness didn’t exactly work in person the same way it did on the phone, and overall people who just were always turned out to be too good to be true.
After what seemed like months of tiresome searching, her glimmer fainted into a small gleam, and she held tight onto all the magic and hope she had left with all her might.
And she was right too, because without it she may have never believed her eyes when she met him underneath the full bright moon and under the bright theater lights that warm and magical May night.
All because he needed help navigating the system of the NY streets. Offering what little help she could, in return for her help he himself offered her a dinner at one of the places in the city where the dishes probably washed themselves.
Accepting, within the course of that two hour dinner, she hadn’t denied the spark that she’d felt.
That zing..
That pop…
That thing you could only find in the movies…
And besides that she also learned in this short time, that he was everything she’d ever dreamed of to find in a man.
Handsome, kind hearted, sweet, intellectual, driven, established, and last of all wealthy.
All things that crossed her box.
But soon after the dinner she also would get to cross off another important box off her wish for a spouse: Good in Bed.
And so quickly a romance ensued.
Date nights, long weekend trips, holidays spent together, stupid monogrammed initials in the towels she kept at his place kind of romance.
Yes, of course like all other great love stories there were certain…dragons to be slain…or towers to climb. But hey what great love story didn’t…no matter how many.
That is why when he gave her the fairytale proposal of her life, she’d eagerly said yes.
But on the day of the same fairytale wedding they planned, worth a pretty penny, and with the gathering of all their closest family and friends.
She would find herself heartbroken when he didn’t say I do…or I don’t.
In fact at that altar he never said anything…because dear friends….he never showed.
She’d been stood up at the altar.
And on that day, with tears in her eyes that same young, freshly graduated girl with dew on her cheeks and glitter in her eyes would soon trade out her perfect pink for shoes, for boots made to walk all over all of his burned shit outside in the backyard of her parent’s home.
That young girl had been twenty two years old at the time of this heartbreak.
And now at twenty eight my cousin, Celine St. John, was all grown up and trying living in the harsh reality of the day.
That those princes or princesses didn’t exist, and only she herself had the power to make her dreams come true.
But again, sadly my friends, this still didn’t completely take her magic or her will to keep looking for her happily ever after…in someone else.
Which is why like something out of a fairy-tale, four Los Angeles princesses found themselves swimming in a sea of scurvy men with no prince or even handsome pirates in sight, at the Lonely Pearl Bar.
“ Can you believe it? Four years ago today I stood there dressed in my grandmother's pearls and his mother’s wedding dress outside ready to go to the altar in front of three hundred people, with my life packed up, ready to abandon all my hopes and dreams like a dumbass, waiting for a man who never had any intention of showing up.” Celine could only laugh at young naive past self as she took another sip of her Jack and Ginger.
“ In the high heat of an August heatwave no less.” She added, “ Even though when I said yes that night, I knew in my heart he’d never commit. That he’d never love me the same way I loved him.”
“ An important part of the tale indeed. But, hey, don’t feel bad. We’ve all been delusional a time or two. It happens. We’re young and improperly influenced with stories of fairy tale endings and men who actually may be decent human beings.” I said, playing with the circle stained napkin in front of me from my Corona. “ So, as always I don’t blame you for using the extreme benefit of the doubt. It happens.”
“ Oh no. Speak for yourself." Anthea quickly objected, “ Baby that wasn’t any regular ass delusional you experienced. That was some straight Disney fairytale shit, we’ll live happily ever after in a Louboutin shoe, type delusion. Which brings me to the main issue.”
The three of us exchanged looks present with all of the curiosity and skepticism we could muster.
“ See, I think the problem here ladies isn’t that you all can’t find someone to indulge the perfect Cinderella fantasy . It’s the fact you’re looking for someone to date in the first place. It isn’t like Beauty and the Beast where you love and nurture the gruff of man until you get this shiny new prince. Most men nowadays are all beast, no prince."
“ Men nowadays are all the same. No matter how much you want them to commit, date, or marry you, it’s all the same. A man will either tell you upfront he’s just looking to fuck, or he is going to indulge your little fantasy of something serious until you finally let him in the draws and then he’s out the door to the next bitch.” She explained, smiling as if her logic was the only right one.
Anthea Olivet, as she will tell anyone within earshot, was sexy, fabulous, wildly successful and had the ego of any man attached. This alone made her 5’3 stature in any situation feel seven feet tall. She was a prolific defense attorney to the stars, who took charge in not only in the courtroom, but in every aspect of life she could.
“ Bottom line . Men will fuck you and then get the fuck on. If you can find it within yourself to accept those facts, then maybe you too can enjoy the ‘ happy endings ‘ you get from them just as much as they do the ones they take from you.” She happily shrugged, taking a sip of her shirley temple.
“ Well what if I liked the way the beast looked pre transformation." Celine mused, “ I personally don’t mind some gruff and fur. Then you gotta remember he had generational wealth, he was well read, owned property, plus his tongue in that one scene wasn-”
Celine’s verbal venture into beastiality was cut off by a chorus of laughter and bewildered look from Maraget, “ Ce, you’re sick ." Tears springing in her eyes from laughter, “ And you can count that as a professional diagnosis free of charge.”
Celine shrugged, “ Nothing we didn’t already, darling. But no, seriously back to the topic at hand. It just feels like I almost had it, ya’ know? And now I just feel like at the age I am now I should already be set up for the life I wanna live. Ya’ know the house, kids, husband, property, dream job, whatever…”
She sighed, “ And it seems like all the other pieces of the puzzle are falling into place but this one.”
“ Which is what? Love? Because you know there are other areas of life you can find that in, right?" I reminded.
“ I mean look around. Do you really fucking think we’d all be sitting in this poorly air conditioned ass bar with these weak ass drinks if we didn’t love your ass. You betta’ look around and recognize QUICK.” I quipped at her, making a motion to the three of us surrounding her with my finger.
She smiled, playfully rolling her before saying, “ Yes. I definitely recognize I’m loved ya’ll thank you. However…”
Strong collective groans came from every direction, but still not strong enough to deter her from her declaration, “ As much as y’all love me and I love y’all, none of ya’ll can hold and kiss my hand, buy a house with me, raise babies with me, or eat me out on a Caribbean island with manuka honey and ice the way I need.”
“ We just letting all our little fantasies out tonight, huh?" I muttered to my left side, low enough for Anthea to hear.
“ Seems like. But let's not kink shame. It’s not polite.” She quietly sing-songed.
“ Even though I’ve had my ass burned, literally, I’m still not giving up on the idea that someone is out there for me." Celine urged, “ It just gets harder and harder keeping up the faith out here in these streets when at every fucking corner there is a weirdo or bum. But it is easy to weed those out once I come right out with it and say I’m looking to date to marry.”
“ Yeah, that’ll unfortunately slim the pickings.” I agreed, taking a swig.
“ Which I wouldn’t care about if I wasn’t twenty eight already! I’m not getting any younger. I need to find someone who will both poach quail eggs for me in the morning and then crack my eggs up at night.” Celine concluded. “ I need to find my person. Yesterday.”
Margaret nodded, “ I understand. But you don’t think that maybe you’re just putting a bit too much pressure on yourself, Ce. That’s a lot to try and carry. Maybe you should think about taking the pressure of the gas a bit, hun.”
" I agree '', I chimed in, “ Especially in this cesspool we call dating here in LA. You don’t necessarily need to lower your standards but maybe a little adjustment may be good. Or you could even try and sit on the bench for a little bit and focus on you. Make sure those other pieces of the puzzle just ain’t falling, but that they're in that bitch permanently.” I took a sip of my beer.
Still she shook her head unfazed by our words, “ No no no. I can’t. It’s bad enough I’m the age I am now with little to no prospects as is. Plus I can already hear that clock starting to tick s-"
“ You better take the batteries out of that bitch and keep pushing." Anthea sharply interrupted, startling a poor Margaret, “ FUCK THAT CLOCK! It’s bullshit. Don’t force yourself to go on a million dates with these lame ass niggas just because mother nature is pushing up on you.”
“ You better go collect and freeze those eggs. It’s never too late.” Anthea declared, holding up her class of pinot. “ If you want marriage. Do it. But don’t rush just because you're afraid. It won’t end well.”
“ She may have a point. Think about it.” I agreed.
Quickly I was called out by a now semi-offended Celine , “ Oh no! You Miss Thing...” She pointed a finely manicured finger at me, “ Do not get to have an opinion on a subject like this. You don’t even date forreal.”
I immediately felt my face contort into a deep frown, “ That is not true.”
From down the row I heard Margaret's voice, “ Now, Kalin.”
“ Yes, Margaret.” I shot back, a playful coyness invading my tone, making us both smile,
“ No, but seriously! Y'all make it seem like a bitch don’t date. I DATE! Maybe not as much or like how y’all do. But I get out there…occasionally.”
I felt my own conscious frown at me in skepticism and judgment.
“ Girl PLUHEASE! You don’t date Miss I’ve Taken a Vow of Celibacy because my last relationship shot to hell.” Anthea laughed, involuntarily reminding me of my last serious attempt at a situation.
“ Hey! My vow of celibacy doesn’t have anything to do with my last attempt at a relationship, but has everything to do with my attempt at a relationship with myself and my well being.” I stated proudly.
“ I decided that if I truly wanted to get to know myself and see all that I had to offer then I needed to get exclusive and serious with ME! Which meant eliminating distracting factors like sex and other people from our relationship.”
“ Plus.” I cleared my throat, “ As you all know I also had some…past things. I’ve been working on. And I finally feel like I’m at a place where I have a manageable handle on said things.” My eyes quickly cut to Margaret who offered a somber and supportive smile.
“ Now look at me. A young black successful New York Times best selling author of not one but soon to be two series. I have a budding publishing house, I’m thick and fit, and I’m a hell of a good dog mom. So, I’d say this celibacy journey was worth it.” I argued, sipping on the almost empty glass bottle.
“ And more power to you, honey.” Anthea patted my shoulder, “ But after three years, minimal dates, and at least four vibrators, plus the cost of batteries every month that probably is the equivalent of a decent house note. Don’t you think that maybe it’s time to open things up. I dunno get into a polyamorous relationship with you, yourself, and somebody’s dick?!"
“ Oh my gosh.” I groaned, silently unamused at her obsession with the prospects of my sex life.
“ Anthea behave.” Margaret softly scolded before turning to me, “ But on a more serious note, not to pull out the PHD in Psychology and Mental Health counseling…”
“ I know das’ right.” Anthea hyped her up.
“ But as someone who literally counsels and assesses people for a living on how well they can function in life healthily and independently, I’m pretty confident in my recommendation that you’ve done enough self growth and foundation laying over the last three years to where I’m content with sending you out into the wilds of the LA dating scene without major fear for you, friend."
Her words made my heart swell, “ Besides that, as your friend. I’m even more damn proud of you! It takes a lot to want to put that kind of work into yourself. I say all that to say…if you’re ready. Then it’s time.” Margaret encouraged lifting up her bottle of lemon sparkling water.
“ Amen Sister Dr. Girl. Tell her again.” Celine threw up a goofy fist.
“ So, I guess the question still remains, what is stopping you from getting back out there? " Anthea follows up.
“ Absolutely nothing! Nothing is stopping me y'all." My body produces a laugh under the pressure of the microscope presented by my peers, “ When I come across a man that I’m interested in. Then I’ll date. But until then I’m cool just seeing…me.”
And just like that, a smirk almost eerily identical to the Cheshire cat appeared on Anthea’s face, “ And when you say that, do you mean that there’s a specific type of guy you’re looking for? Cause I know some people I could-”
“ NOPE! While I’m flattered that won’t be necessary. Thanks.” I quickly held up a hand of refusal, “ But to answer your question. While I don’t have a specific list of things like how tall he has to be or what he does for a living, or this, that, and the third like other women may. I do have certain…preferences that I keep in mind when I see someone I think is attractive.”
“ Such as…” Anthea beckoned forward, not even attempting to be sly about her approach.
“ Such as….he has to be able to practice CMTDB.” I stated, smirking.
Immediately her eyes lit up with what I knew only could be a thought she could formulate, “ Ouu! What does that stand for? Can make the dick bounce? Can mash the D’s back? "
Laughter from every which way, plus a horrified look for Margaret, moved down through the row of us.
“ NO NASTY! It means CAN MIND THEIR DAMN BUSINESS.” Patrons had begun to stare at the four us who were now obnoxiously loud, but we didn’t care, “ Like damn. If I wanted to be interrogated by three old ass biddies I would’ve called Mama and the Tias.”
“ Aye watch who the fuck you call old, na’." Celine, barely able to breathe said, “ I may be kicking thirty in the ass, but my best years are still ahead of me. Watch.”
“ I know das right! Haven’t you heard thirty is the new twenty. Means we’re just really getting started.”
I groan laughing, “ God! I hope not. I’d like to see my thirties be different. Feel more mature and happier. Not like my early twenties which really just felt like the encore of my teenage years at times.”
“ That’s exactly what I was going to say bu–” The abrupt sound of Margaret’s phone paused her thought, she didn’t hesitate to pull it from her pocket, just the same way she didn’t hesitate to return just as swiftly and avert her eyes back to the conversation at hand.
An action she’d repeated twice since we’d all met here under the slightly mildew kissed lamps of the place two hours ago.
A look was exchanged between Celine and I, and while us two were ready to sweep the action under the rug; Anthea of course was not, “ You’re not gonna get’ that. That’s like your third call, tonight. Could be important.”
“ I promise it’s not. It can wait.” She affirmed, hands awkwardly tapping the bartop, “ Besides I’m busy helping a friend here.”
“ Who mind you doesn’t require help.” I added in.
“ Yeah right.” Celine laughed, “ You so do. But that’s alright. Cause mark my words. Before the year is over we gone find someone to knock the cobwebs up out that thang’. ”
My eyes cut at her, “ No cobwebs here, heifer. Don’t ever try it.” I waved a hand, “ Besides….”
“ From my mouth to the universe's ears, it will send me a man who not only is ready for me, but I too am ready for him. Which being honest, I don’t think is anytime soon. So, until then I’m going to keep on loving on me, buying batteries, and making money to pay my expensive beverage habits. ALRIGHT!”
They all looked around to each other before muttering in agreement.
After a couple more laughs, some life updates, and a toast to remember Celine’s bullet she dodged, both Anthea and Celine announced their respective departures, which also triggered Margaret's reluctance to go home.
“ Never know….” Margaret spoke up, “ He could stumble into this very bar tonight.”
Still I laughed her off, “ Yeah, right. Okay Miss Cleo, thanks for the delulu. I love you and kiss my godbaby goodnight when you get home. And to you other two… Have fun and be SAFE…in all areas of life.”
“ Will do. Night, pretty girl.” Anthea placed a kiss on my cheek, before heading over to the pool table to collect her victim of the night.
“ Goodnight, Beautiful. I will tell her in the morning. If you want I’ll have her call you so you two can talk over breakfast.” Margaret offered making me smile at the thought of my five year old goddaughter.
“ I would love that. Thanks.”
“ Alright. Before I go I’m gonna step outside and take a phone call.” Margaret leaned down and kissed my head.
“ Okay.” I said, suddenly feeling a weight on my back.
“ Goodnight, Smush. Love you. Don’t stay out too long.” Celine hugged me from behind.
“ Love you too, Smuckie. And I won’t. Text me when you get home.” I waved.
And then all within five minutes I’d found myself just how I knew the evening would go, alone and mulling. Just only at a bar.
I figured at this rate I may as well have another beer, call a cab, and set up shop at my computer until my eyes either started to burn or the computer died. Whichever came first.
A couple minutes had passed and I had just ordered my last when a voice rose above the buzz of noise next to me.
“ This seat taken? "
When I turned my head I was met with a rather large and stunningly attractive man dressed in a dapper suit and tie. He looked as if he'd just hopped straight off a Forbes magazine page, dressed head to toe in what I’d recognized to be the number 3’ line up from the recent Ralph Lauren’ spring line. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that he put the model to absolute shame.
This had to be some kind of fucking joke. Who had sent this man over here to fuck with me.
“ Doesn’t look like it…so please feel free.” I motion toward the tattered bar seat.
“ Thank you.” He replies, flagging down the bartender, “ Hey, man. Can I do a Blue Moon. Thanks.”
As he ordered his drink I couldn’t help but steal a few glances at the man beside me to further my inspection. Quickly I was able to gather that if I’d thought he’d been handsome standing over me before, I’d damn sure thought he was fine now up close now.
He had a strong jawline draped with a particularly well kept and healthy looking beard peppered with noticeable streaks of gray . All around his cheekbones and around his nose bridge were kissed with tiny hints of freckles. When he talked his smile was a perfect replica of a colgate commercial, and it helped to bring brightness to his eyes that had a certain softness and slant to them.
All in All…again I say..the man was fine.
“ Something on my face? " His voice startled me since I’d really thought I’d been stealthy with how much side eye I used.
I’d been caught.
Quickly I had to recover, “ No. Nope, nothin’ on there. You’re actually just in my line of sight.” I tried playing it off, “ Just trying not to be obvious about looking out the window there past your face. My friend is outside in a possible spat with her husband, and I don’t wanna make it seem like I’m being nosy.”
“ But you are. Being nosy that is.” He remarked, smiling and taking a sip of his beer.
I frown, “ Not really. Concerned more than anything. I mean she is standing outside by herself. It’s getting dimmer and dimmer out and I’m just making sure she’s okay. I mean look at her. Look how tiny she is…” I laugh, “ One tiny gush of wind and she’ll be all the way in the valley."
He turned his head to get a good look at my Margo before nodding, “ Well since you put it like that. I guess I understand the nosiness now.”
“ Mhmm.” I agreed, going back to nursing my beer.
The air held quiet for a moment, both our eyes seemed to briefly train on the game playing on the TV overhead until…
“ So, you come here often to be nosy? “ His gaze shifted to me and he flashed me that almost blinding smile again.
And in that moment, suddenly, for some odd reason, I’d begun to feel a tad smaller under the weight of it, like he was this giant…something and I was just…me.
His presence felt..oddly…Big.
In an attempt to hide my nerves I opted to look down the bar at the waitress while answering, “ Occasionally. Decent place to drink a beer, shoot a bear, be nosy into others life problems. All of it makes good material, ya’ know.”
“ For? " He questioned, pulling my attention back.
“ I’m sorry? " I blinked.
“ You said that all makes good material, right? So, for what? “ He furthered, the corners of his lips upturned.
For a moment I contemplated lying to him about my life’s profession just to avoid the common follow up questions I could never escape, but for some reason I’d decided that even if he did ask them, he was worth the explanations tonight.
“ I’m an author.” I revealed, “ So, you could say I take good chunks of inspiration from things as simple as eavesdropping on conversations or what some call ' people watching' I guess.”
“ Published? " He probed.
“ Yeah. I have a couple things out and under my belt." I nodded, “ Nothing you’ve read I’m sure, though.”
His eyebrows rose in curiosity, “ Oh really? What? Do I look like I don’t read or something? "
I shook my head, “ No. No, that’s not what I said. I’m sure you’re very well read."
Your reading material probably consists of contracts and checks with lots of zeros from the looks of it.
“ I’m just positive you’ve never read anything I’ve written. My genre probably isn‘t your thing." I clarified.
He took another swig of his beer, “ And what genre would that be? "
I smile knowing I had him, “ Young adult romance and fiction.”
He looked almost surprised when I told him, only indication of this being the shift in his seat.
“ Huh." He hummed before going back to nursing his flat beer, my brows touched.
“ Huh? What does ‘ huh ‘ mean?" I questioned, wanting to know the diction of his sound.
He laughed, finding amusement in my displeasure with little noise, his baritone floating in the air, “ Huh means I wouldn’t expect a young adult romance and fiction author to be getting her material from a bar."
I nodded understanding that he wasn’t the first person to share a sentiment like that I’d met. But still part of me could have wondered the same thing about him.
What was a man like him with such a large presence doing sitting at bar and and having a casual drink with a woman at a bar who secretly was in a place in her life where she felt as small as can be.
“ Huh." I sounded, purposely using the previous tone of his just for a reaction.
I got it.
He smiled, “ Now, what’s up with your huh? "
Having the nerve to start feeling shy, my head turned up to the game, the Celtics were nailing the Raptors, “ I just wouldn’t have expected a man in a almost six thousand dollar suit to be sitting at a bar whose most expensive drink comes in a glass with a plastic pearl floating in it.” I shot back.
He laughed.
“ Touche. " A nod was earned, “ I’ll put your ‘ huh’ to rest though by telling you that the only reason I’m here in this ridiculously overpriced suit at this little ole’ shithole in the wall bar, is because the guy who owns this place happens to be a lifelong friend of mine. And whenever I’m in town I stop in and say what’s up.”
“ Would that be often? " I turn. “ I’ve never seen you in here before.”
The corners of his mouth upturned, “ See. Nosy? " He pointed at me, triggering an eyeroll.
The small smile on my face spread, “ No. Not nosy. Conversationalist.” I countered, holding up a finger.
“ Mmm." He mused. “ Well in that case, quite often. I travel back and forth for work. And before you ask in a more innocent conversational way, I’m in the hospitality business. I help my family run a chain of hotels and resorts.” He said.
Explains a lot.
“ Nice! Not a bad profession to be in especially if you have to travel.” I noted. He nods, “ No it isn’t. And between us…” He moved a bit closer, and I seemed to stiffen a bit when I got a whiff of him. He smelled….indescribable, “ I don’t come here for the drinks, just to support my friend. If I’d wanted a real beer I'd have just gone to one of the hotels. Our tap is wayyy better.”
“ Really? And what about being nosy? Your bar good for any author looking for some material?" I teased.
He smiled, “ It’s especially good for someone nosy like you, yes. “ He stated matter of factly, I mean c’mon now. Think about how many people we get that travel back and forth through there and stop to have a drink to calm the nerves, drown sorrows, or are like you and just wanting to be in the atmosphere. You definitely meet some characters.” He pointed out.
With a thought put to it, it sounded like it made perfect sense to me.
“ I bet. Sounds like an interesting place to pick up on something.” I agree.
“ I know." He nodded, “ But, please don’t take my word for it. You should come see for yourself."
He’d caught me by surprise with his invitation, “ I’m sorry? ”
I could tell he took pleasure in startling me this way, “ I said come and see it for yourself. What’re you doing Sunday night?" He posed, reaching for his suit jacket while accidentally flashing me a better glimpse at a watch that I was sure amounted to my entire four year tuition at WU.
Immediately in my mind images of my routine Sunday night of walking around in oversized clothes and fuzzy slippers while looking like the thing they pulled out of the black lagoon as I sifted through chapter drafts and notes flashed through my brain.
Still I decided to play it cool…as I could, “ I’m not exactly sure. I should be free, but I still need to double check. Just in case a random event I can’t remember at this particular moment is occurring." I shrugged my shoulders in a pitiful effort to sell the sudden nonchalant attitude.
But the smirk on his face let me know he was staring straight through me, though politely he played along, “ Well, you do that. And when you figure it out. Give me a call, I’d love to have a drink and maybe help you source up some material with some pretty quality.”
He casually handed me off a business card.
Joseph Anoa’i
Chief Operations Officer
Grand Maivia Hotels Inc.
I had to keep my eyes from bucking out of my head when I read the card.
The Grand Maivia Hotel and its variants were notorious for being one of the most inclusive, luxurious, and successful hotel chains. They were minority founded, owned, and operated with their brand expanding to sit at the table with giants like the Four Seasons, St. Regis, and the Hiltons.
Knowing the information I knew now, explained why his presence gave off such big vibes.
But this time I was determined to keep my face neutral and not give an inch, “ Cool. Nice to meet you Joseph.”
“ Joe," He corrected, “ My friends just call me Joe.”
I arched an eyebrow, “ Ah. So we’re friends now? I mean I don’t know. I wouldn’t take you for the type to have nosy friends.”
He laughs, “ Not letting that go, huh? "
“ Nope! " I popped the ‘ P’, digging into my purse to pull out a stray business card of my own. “ Not since you started it first. But I figured if we are then you might want this." You handed him the card.
Caramine Lewis
Writer and Publishing Talent
Alma House Publishing
His thumb ran over the name inked on the card carefully, “ It’s nice to meet you, Caramine? That short for something? “
“ Umm…not really. Caramine is just my pen name. My writing alias." I watched the corners of his eyes spread in curiosity.
“ I see. So what’s the real name?"
I smiled, a mischievous thought passing over my lips, “ Whose nosy, now?"
He laughed, “ If you can call it that. I think intrigued would be a better term."
“ C’mon what? Don’t tell me that you’ve never kept an alias before? Ya’ know have your Bruce Wayne or Clark Kent moment. Adds a good element of mystery to something.” I said, hoping that this poor attempt at flirting I was doing may have been rubbing off somewhat.
“ No. I’m quite familiar with the idea of an alias. But I think the thing I find most interesting about them is when you get to unmask the true person behind it." He wasn’t shy about the quick survey his eyes did on me, a certain look in them appeared that I hadn’t, “ Get to know the real them.”
I couldn’t help the heat that descended upon my cheeks, “ Well, you’ll come to find that us authors love keeping our readers intrigued by a more slow and revealing approach. Ya’ know, can’t give you everything at once.”
“ Is that right?” His tongue fleets across his bottom lip. His eyes haven’t left mine for a hot minute, and I can feel an array of nerves heat all over my body with every passing second they’re under his gaze.
“ Yeah.” I said, “ So, to keep you intrigued until I see you again. I think the notion of my name will be enough.” I said, I’d noticed the involuntary pur I’d elicited into my voice now.
It hadn’t been on purpose, but I just couldn’t help myself.
At this he moved to stand, coming a little bit closer to me until one of his knees touched mine and I was forced to tilt my head up just to meet his gaze. God, the atmosphere felt like it kept getting warmer and warmer by the minute, and for the life of me I didn’t know how much longer I could keep my cool.
“ I guess it’s a good thing I’ll be seeing you soon then. I’m not exactly the patient type when it comes to these things. Read the ending first kind of guy and then go from there. I like knowing what I’m getting into.” He stated.
“ So, you could imagine how easy it could be for me to just google it now. Find some kind of article that’ll tell me. And then let those ‘ notions ‘ you speak of take hold after.”
“ You could." I agreed, “ Skip over the delight of the wonderment I mean. And just go ahead and spoil it for yourself. But something tells me you won’t.”
He perked, a hand rested on the counter now dangerously close to mine, “ Why’s that? "
His eyes were peering down at me now, almost with a certain curiosity to them he used to mask his suspected arousal, it made my breath hitch.
“ Because you say you’re the kind of guy who likes to skip til the end and then go backward. Yet, here you are still trying to get a good read on the cover.”
“ So that patience you think you don’t have, you have it.” I concluded.
I watched the smile spread across his lips that further poked at the heat of gaze coming from his eyes which were locked on mine, “ Maybe.” He said.
“ I can work with maybe.” I said allowing myself to fully take in his features from this angle as we still held this oddly…interesting eye contact that I just in the moment couldn’t explain.
Figuring I needed to leave before I started salivating at the mouth, I quickly announced my leaving.
“ Well Mr. Joe. As lovely as this meeting has been, the life of an author calls.” I got up to gather my things, “ I have a deadline tomorrow and I need to make sure everything is all set on my end. So this is where I’ll have to leave you…for now.”
“ I see. Well I actually should be heading out too. Got a bunch of boring back to back meetings tomorrow and they start early.”
“ How early?" I inquired.
“ Early." He shot back without a knowing tone.
I nodded already knowing it had to be before the rooster crows.
“ Well that sucks. But hey, I guarantee you're not the only person who will be up that early. There are those who never sleep in this city, like the uber and taxi drivers. I should know, I'm taking one now." I said.
Immediately I watched him frown, “ You planned on taking a taxi home…by yourself.”
“ I did. And I AM.” I giggled in confirmation, taking note of his displeasure.
“ Not anymore you’re not. I’ll call one of the car services from the hotel to take you home.” He reached in his jacket pocket to produce a phone. " We're not too far from there, so it won't take too long to get here."
And just how his frown was immediate so was mine when I protested, “ Oh no. Truly that isn’t necessary. I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl who can take care of herself. Have been for a long time.”
His eyes pulled away from the typing on the screen for a once over of me and then back to his task when he said, “ And from the looks of it you’re doing a hell of a job. But just because you can doesn’t mean you should always have to.”
“ Plus..I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight knowing I let you get a cab instead of offering. Can’t always trust cabs or Ubers or whatever. Especially here. ” He affirmed, once he was done on his phone he looked back to me, “ You ain’t ever seen the bone collector, sweetheart? "
He referenced the 90s creepy mystery thriller staring Denzel Washington and Angelina Jolie.
“ I have." I nodded, “ A very scary movie indeed. But I hope it eases your mind when I tell you that I rarely take Ubers or taxis. I usually drive myself every which way besides when I know I’m probably going to have a bit to drink. Because in that instance I wanna be responsible and not drive.”
“ Understood. Well for tonight at least you won’t have to worry about a cab. And if you decide to come have a drink Sunday, let me know ahead of time and I’ll be happy to arrange a driver for you for the night.” He proposed.
“ Joe, while that’s sweet it’s really not ne-”
“ It is to me though. So like I said, let me know.”
I watched him stand to his feet in front of me…well maybe more like over me since he easily bested my five’ seven stature by the way my face came just to meet the top of his chest. Which only heightened the smell that wafted from him. It smelled…delectable.
He was...delectable.
“ For mine, the lady, and her friends drinks.” I watched as he laid down a thick wad of cash onto the ring stained and corded wooden counter. It had to have been the amount of all our drinks five times over, “ Keep the rest for yourself. And tell Dean that Roman said the beers are still flat.”
Roman?
I thought we’d established his name was Joseph—Joe.
I began to wonder where the nickname had come from and why, it was definitely a bit of a sharp turn away from the name Joe.
As if he could read my mind, he sent a knowing smile my way , " C'mon your rides’ on the way.” He beckoned me to follow him outside, he reached a hand and motioned for me to walk in front of him.
Quickly I tried to gather myself and my belongings, my heart felt a flutter when I could sense his hand hovering just over my hips as he maneuvered us through the crowd of people.
It was fascinating to watch the way people parted for us- Him. The smiles and nods as he moved through the room only solidified the size of his presence in the space. The acknowledgements and greetings didn’t end until we were outside in front of the bar with the cool LA night air kissing our cheeks.
As if on cue the all black GMC SUV gilded in before us.
“ This is you.” He motioned, “ And don’t worry. Whatever you tell him is confidential. I’m not gonna show up to your crib or start sending things. Like a nut job That ain’t me. My mother raised me better than that.” He explained.
I felt a chamber of my heart relax at the genuineness I believed I was hearing in his voice about the respect of my privacy, which had been a cause of concern when the offer was first presented.
“ Thank you for mentioning that. I appreciate it…all of it really.”
“ You don’t have to thank me. It’s nothing. All I ask is that when you do get home, just shoot me a text and let me know.” He moved closer as we inched to the door of the truck.
“ I can most certainly do that.” I agreed.
“ So, I’ll be seeing you Sunday night? " He asked, head tilted down just enough for the
“ Maybe.” I answered, purposefully.
He smiled, tongue fleeting his top lip, “ I can work with maybe.”
As he leaned down closer I couldn’t stop myself from mentally panicking at the mere belief that this handsome ass, big ass, sexy ass man was about to kiss me.
To say my heart and mind were both collectively and desperately trying to communicate when in reality all lines of proper thoughts had been temporarily...shut down…stunned…made unavailable by the blocking signals being sent up from nether regions that I wasn’t even sure still worked.
It didn’t help that he’d gotten close enough to the point where if I’d leaned up, our lips wouldn’t have any trouble meeting.
So it was then when he stopped leaning and said, “ Good night.”
That all I could muster was a repetition of his words, “ Good night.”
Like as if I was in a daze I allowed him to open the door, usher me in, and see me off as the wheels started rolling against the cracked pavement into the night air that had just become ripe with possibility.
And all I could think was…. GotDammit Margaret.
Back Inside…
Margaret tried to compose herself as she walked back to the bar, head beginning to throb with the ghost of her husband's disappointed tone in her ear.
At first she’d taken the call under the fluorescent light of the neon pearl sign of the building, hoping that it would offset the dreary and dark feelings of the conversation she was having. When it got more serious she’d moved to her car ready to start it up and give in to the guilt being placed on her.
But once the call ended, she wasn’t sure if it was the effects of the asbestos from the bar, or the lingering warm feelings she had from seeing her friends, but she’d gotten out of the car and went back into the bar.
Almost as if something was drawing her back inside.
Also, not yet wanting to leave and face the small monotony of her life, she decided one more shot of lemon infused agua wouldn’t hurt before she ventured home.
Plopping down on the bar stool in between two bar-goers, she flagged down the bartender to ask him for another bottle of lemon sparkling water to sip on while she watched the very basketball game she’d been previously fated to attend.
She sat there for a minute not really watching the game, but rather letting it watch her, when…
“ You a fan? " A voice appeared next to her on the right.
When she turned, at her side sat a man…
He had caramel skin and long dark hair with maroon colored tips all pulled into a low makeshift bun on his head. He wore a denim hoodie jacket and a white shirt that made the chain around his neck stand out against his intricately tattooed skin. His face was mature but his features screamed boyish, right down to the wide toothy smile on his face.
He was handsome to her… in an odd boy next door kinda way.
“ Um…sorta. My husband legally represents the team, so we usually get season tickets we go to, but this is the first game I’ve missed since he started.” Margaret answered, mindful to move herself over a bit to give him room. “ He’s a big fan and loves to go. So, we go.”
“ And how long ago was that?" He inquired, eyes heavily trained on the individual in front of him.
“ It’ll be six years in March.” A soft smile peaking at the thought of her husband’s accomplishment.
The man's eyes shifted in curiosity to the screen, “ Wait. Hol’ up. You mean to tell me you’ve been to every single Kings game in the last six years? Even the away games? "
Margo was quietly amused with his disbelief, “ Even the away games. Either courtside or in a box somewhere. They may prove hard to manage sometimes but I always make it in the end. Only this one I couldn’t because my friend really wanted me here tonight and it’s a special occasion.”
The man nodded, “ Wow. I get it. That’s just some real commitment right there. How long y’all been married for if you don’t mind me askin’ ?" He reached to take another sip of his drink.
Water sloshing around in a shot glass.
“ Seven years this August. Together for nine though." She recalled just how long she and Reece had been together, internally she winced at the thought.
“ That’s wassup. Congratulations to you both.” He continued to nurse his drink.
Curious, she turned to him, “ And what about you? Married?"
This time the man downed the rest of his drink before responding, “ Engaged. Going on five years.” He revealed, only Margaret took notice of the hinge to his voice. As if he’d tasted something bitter on his tongue. Maybe his words , because it couldn’t be the water.
“ You don’t sound too happy to me for someone being engaged.” She noted.
He shook his head, “ It’s not that I’m not happy I’m engaged. I just know I’d be happier married is all.”
Would you really? Because trust me…it ain’t all it's cracked up to be.
Caty’s lips pursed together before she spoke, “ So, then what’s stopping you? From getting married that is."
“ Her." He simply stated, “ She’s at a pivotal point right now in her career and wants to wait. Says she can’t really find the time to fully commit to things like the planning and shit like that. Bottom line, the hold up is her.”
“ Well I can see why you’re frustrated but, at the same time it’s hard to commit to something and someone knowing that it’s not just you anymore, but rather you and I now. It can be scary committing." She reasoned, picking up her glass of water.
“ Yeah. But you did it, right? “ He threw out, “ Seven years, never miss a game, and even still you’re sitting here watching it in a bar full of alcohol having lemon water. That’s commitment, uce.” He stated, “ That shit shows you care. Your husband is lucky.”
Only if he knew that.
Ignoring his synopsis of the information given to her, Margaret decided to instead indulge in the latter of his statement, “ Uce? What is that? Like some islander term used or…”
He smirks, “ Sum’ like that. It’s like the samoan version of ‘ cuz ‘ or bruh? "
“ Nice well…Mr…”
“ Jonathan Fatu.” He stuck out his hand for her to shake, she reached out, the minute the palm of their hands touched a slight shock of electricity ran through the center of her hand and up her fingers that made her quickly pull away with a feeling of small lighting traveling up her in arm in the most peculiarly pleasant way. “ You can me Jon, though’. ”
“ Well Jonathan. Sometimes being with someone does mean making certain…sacrifices to ensure the overall health of the relationship. It’s a give and take situation.”
“ Yeah, I get that.” He nodded in agreement before asking her, “ But what happens when you feel like the majority of the sacrifices have been made by you? Where’s the balance in that? What do you get to take away for yourself? "
Questions Margaret couldn’t answer…not only for him, but also for herself.
As a licensed professional she was sure she could conjure up some technical answer she would tell her clients in session, but this wasn’t what this was.
There was no notepad in front of her to jot down notes or logistics sheets, there was no timer set, and she wasn’t sitting opposite from him across the room.
In this moment sitting next to him, side by side, she felt like a regular person. So that’s why she found it somewhat easy to give him the regular response of, “ You know. I’m not exactly sure.”
“ I mean we all make sacrifices for the people we love but only you yourself truly know when you’ve had enough of it. You know when the sacrifice is too much and when to say when.” She followed up.
“ And you’ve never felt the need to say when about goin’ to all these damn games. I mean I could understand if you said you had to sit through a couple of Warriors games or even the Lakers. But the Kings ain’t even really on shit forreal." He motioned to the scoreboard where the Kings were still in fact getting destroyed by Celtics.
“ I mean shit, do you even like basketball?" He laughed, emitting a small one from her.
“ Not particularly. I don’t mind it. But it’s not my first choice of a sporting event to go to. Though not a lot of people may like my picks so there’s that.”
“ Which are? " He pressed.
She couldn’t explain why but she felt a twinge of excitement in her voice when she said, “ I like going to Tennis matches or Rugby games. I also don’t mind going to Derby games with my friends. But truly I adore going to swim meets, it’s one of my favorite things in this world…ever.”
“ What? Swimmin’?”
She nodded, a large smile spreading on her face at the mere notion of the water, “ Yeah. I can’t get enough of being in water. I’ve swam my entire life. Ever since I was like eight I was in youth group swimming, and then on both middle and high school swim teams. Went to college on a scholarship for it and everything."
“ Where to?"
“ Duke.”
“ Oh shit. That’s wassup’." He gave a grin, “ Must have been good.”
Margaret didn’t mean for a frown to spread on her face at his notion of ‘ good ' , but she couldn’t help herself when the words began coming out her mouth, “ Good? If you can call finishing the 200 yard breaststroke in one minute and fifty six seconds good.” She lifted up her lemon water to take a sip, “ Then yeah. I was pretty decent.”
Jon smiled at the sense of pure arrogance and smugness that reeked from her upon the topic. The two hadn’t been talking all of thirty minutes, but he couldn’t tell this was something she probably didn’t do often from the way she was trying to still downplay this incredible ass record off.
“ Ooooo WEE.” He chirped loudly, making a grinning Maragret look around, “ So you got that motor on you huh? I see you. Them sound like some Olympic ass numbers to me. I can’t see yo’ feet but you must have some flippers on you or something cause gahdamn girl!"
The woman couldn’t help but be entertained and indulge in his theatrics, “ Hey! My feet are not that damn big. I wear a size nine thank you."
“ Alright. You may not be bigfoot but you're up there, dammit. Got some weight on em’. While you playing, them motherfuckers probably extend or some shit like Austin Powers.” He goofed.
Playfully she side eyed him smacking her lips, “ Whatever. I seen them big ass Jordans you wearing when I sat down. Big foot! " She teased, “ Can’t be the pot calling the kettle black.”
“ Touché ..Touché” He laughed, allowing their shared laughter to die down for a second before he spoke, “ But seriously though. Why you ain’t stick wit’ it. With numbers like that is some Olympic gold medal material. Why ain’t you somewhere biting the gold right now.”
Margaret looked at him, a somewhat sullen look springing to her eyes as he asked more questions that she already asked herself over and over again for ages.
“ I could have, I’m sure. But guess you could say it goes back to our earlier topic of sacrifices." She revealed, “ I could have made the team I’m sure with my stats, even as a freshman, but by the time any of those opportunities rolled around I had to make a sacrifice that made all that impossible.”
He nodded in understanding. He too had been in situations like that where he had to make a choice between his dream for himself or his reality that affected others, “ Sorry to hear that.”
She shook her head, “ Don’t be. It went the way it was supposed to. Lead me to my other passion of life, so please don’t feel sorry for me.”
“ Oh yeah? What’s that? " He questioned, giving her his full undivided attention.
It was strange to her the way she felt heat collecting at the apple of her cheeks as a result, why did she feel bashful talking to a complete stranger?
Being so deep in thoughts she hadn’t noticed that his eyes still hadn’t left the canvas of her face, he secretly took the time to study her features for himself, once he reached her lips…he studied the fullness and natural rose of them, hints of a smile danced on them that peaked his curiosity into her thoughts.
“ What’chu smiling for, uce? Got somethin’ on your mind.” His voice luring her away from the lands of her mind and forces her to meet his eye contact full on.
“ It’s nothing. I just thinkin’ about how I feel bad that we keep talking about me. I usually don't talk this much about myself, let alone to a stranger." She took a sip of her water, feeling suddenly parched, “ I’m known to be more of a listener.”
“ But you did though. You listened to me whining about my life stuff earlier. Now we talkin’ about you. “ He said, “ It’s your turn to have the floor. It’s all about you right now, girl.”
It’s all about you right now.
The words vaguely rang around in her ear, sounding every bit of foreign to her mind.
Nothing had ever been all about her in her life. Ever.
“ Guess I’m just not used to that then. People listening to me talk. I usually get my fun the other way, by listening.”
She watched a look appear on his face, one that she refused to believe was a look of more than…friendly appearances. The man was engaged after all.
And how could she forget she was married.
“ So, you saying talking to me is fun then? "
Without pause she nodded, " I’m enjoying myself, yes. But I don’t wanna be the only one talking you gotta want t-"
“ Don’t worry about me. I get enough of talking about myself on a daily basis. Trust me.” He stopped her, “ Right now I wanna hear what’s on your mind.” He declared, shifting his body to lean more into hers while still keeping a comfortable space between them.
“ So gon’ head and talk." He encouraged, “ Tell me about this passion of yours. Cause I’m listenin’ .”
While Margaret was downtown discovering the joy of being the sender of the conversation rather than the receiver, some of us uptown were realizing that dialogue on a Friday night, just might be overrated.
“ Fuck! That’s good.” Anthea’s declaration of lust bouncing off the walls of the man’s place.
It did well to harmonize with the sounds of his thighs repeatedly beating off the skin of her ass, as he had her legs suspended over his shoulders and head buried in her neck by her ear.
That was the shoulders of the man she'd involuntarily picked up at the bar on whim as she made her way outside.
Just as she’d thought back at the restaurant, she was sure in her spontaneous pick of night. Upon getting in the car he’d made her cum within minutes with the thickness and calculations of his fingers.
She was pleased to say that hadn’t disappointed with his particularly thick dick either, well that was until…
“ Yeah. Right there, honey! You’re right on my spot. Don’t stop!" She moaned, reaching out to dig at the ridges of his chiseled abdomen.
She felt him press a run a hand over her naked ass as he said, “ Yeah you want me to cum all in that ushy gushy pussy, baby. Give you my slimey cum all in that shit. Make that pussy leak that watery shit all over my dick. Make it moist.”
And in that moment maybe she could have ignored all his disgustingly horrible banter the man was spewing out of his sudden sewer of a mouth, but the last word he used had been found to have the opposite effect on Anthea as the word's intended meaning.
Like when the world turned on it’s axis and dried up the once ocean filled Sahara, Anthea felt herself being thrown off her belt of pleasure only to feel herself dry up and shrivel to uncomfortability.
Without thought she immediately tapped the groaning and sweat slicked man to cease his movement, “ Sweetheart, you’re done.” She began wiggling out of his grasp only to be stop by a hand on her thigh as her head rushed companion said, “ Awe naw, baby. I ain’t but I’m on the way.” He groaned, still attempting to thrust in her.
This time Anthea figured a more stern approach was needed, “ Yes, you are on your way. Out of my apartment that is. Please get off me and collect your things so you can leave.” She made quick work of pushing him off of her, not hard but with enough force to move a bewildered him to the side.
Shocked and obviously frustrated at his ruined moment, he asked, “ Woah, baby. What happened? I thought we were both there. Didn’t you feel good having me in you like that? Talking you through.”
Anthea had now moved to her feet going over to grab her vintage 1993 Chanel Terry Cloth Robe from her vanity as her head whirled around at words.
“ Talking me through it?!" She gaped, “ No, hun. if anything you were talking me out of it. Out of my fucking orgasm and you out of my apartment. So, please. Grab your things while I call down and let the valet know to bring your car around.” She reached for her.
And of course as expected he got to grumbling to retrieve his scattered Men’s warehouse clothes muttering profanities as he dressed, much to Anthea’s disinterest.
Eventually he made his way to the door with Anthea following behind, still upset and pouting like a child denied their favorite treat.
When he stepped to the hallway, Anthea leaned against the doorframe to make sure he retreated to the elevator, he turned to say a final, “ Fuck you. Ole’ bougie ass bitch.”
Smiling with the enjoyment of knowing she’d gotten under the man’s skin she said, “ I wish you could. Fuck me that is. But sadly the only thing you managed to do was finger me half decent in the car, slobber all over my fucking thigh for thirty minutes, and thrust in me for another hour while you talked to me like I was the fucking attendant at local sewage plant. So, no. Not fuck me, it’s you needing to learn how to fuck.” And with that she shut her door in satisfaction, which quickly morphed into self reflected anger.
Angry at herself for not just going with her first mind and saving herself both the effort and time by just going ahead and resorting to her personal version of ‘ ole’ faithful ‘.
Her thumb hovering over the contact with both reluctance and need, she knew if she did this it would only make her situationship more complex than what it already was.
But then again she knew that above all other pleasures, this person could offer her something that others like them couldn't; Discretion.
Which in line of work, was valuable.
As predicted the line only rang twice before a soft voice could be heard on the line, sending chills through her spine.
“ You can’t keep doing this. It’s not healthy.”
The corners of Anthea’s mouth upturned at the routine attempted guise of respectability, “ Yet every time you answer without failure. Hypocritical much?”
Before the third ring at that.
“ I never said you were the only one making unhealthy decisions here. I always own my part, don’t I? "
Anthea agreed, “ You do quite well. Which is why I think this works so well. We both know our roles and play our parts. Maximum effort on both ends.”
“ Indeed." The voice sighed, “ So, how soon do you need me?”
Her bottom lip stuck under her perfect porcelain teeth for a moment before she spoke, “Hmmmm. Three hours ago would’ve been nice, but I’m willing to settle for now.”
And then the words she’d wanted to hear so eagerly graced her ears, “ I’m on my way.”
As soon as the ‘ click ‘ of the phone was heard, the hot and tingly feelings anticipation ravaged Anthea’s stomach, just the way she hoped this person would.
And at home Celine was also having some more abrupt feelings come up those being ….reminiscence….longing….and confusion.
The Polaroid picture in her hand of her and her past lover only fueled them further as she flipped through the memories they once shared in what felt like a lifetime ago.
Within the box before her sat almost three years worth of pictures, letters, etc from their relationship.
But alongside these mementos also sat the secret police reports and medical records she always kept with her as a reminder of the past. A past that no one else knew of…not even her family.
Just like in a similar instance, her friends didn’t know about the message she’d received at the top the morning in her email inbox. A key fact she was keen on keeping to herself as she tried to sort through the file folders of her feelings by her lonesome.
The message that read:
[email protected]: All I need is a chance to set the mess I made right. I’m in the city again. Permanently. Call me when you get this. My number hasn’t changed. Please, Celine. I miss you.