Love Delayed (7 page)

“I don’t think Alton and Tynisha are quite in the know about the situation between Alton and Tynisha, in spite of that reality show bullshit.” I detested that fucking show. They’re horrible for relationships. “But
I
don’t have a girlfriend.”

Zoey
’s arm slipped from the ledge and she lost her balance. We were in ten feet so she had to catch herself quickly.

Her eyes we
re wild and her breathing matched. “But you told Angela—”

“I didn’t tell Angela shit,” I quickly
and calmly retorted. I had a feeling this would come up the more time we spent with each other. I don’t lie, but I also don’t rat.

Zoey
issued a long and nasty glower. I decided to give her a moment. I was prepared. She then started to shake her head, exasperated.

“What’s the problem? Wh
y are you looking like it’s about to be a
murder was the case that they gave me
type of situation here?”

“Because the only reason she’s with Alton now is because she’s under the impression that you have a girlfriend and there’s no chance with you…because you won’t cheat on your girlfriend. But technically it’s Alton that’s cheating on his girlfriend and…” she shook her head, out of breath. “This stuff is so messy
.
I
-I just don’t understand it.” Zoey pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I simply wasn’t interested in Angela.” I found myself wanting to argue my point to this…
damn-near
teen. “And Alton picked it up…and he also picked up she was game for anything. That’s why she’s with him.” My voice was even, but my tone choppy.

“So you don’t have
any
girlfriends…no one of significance?”

“No.”

“Well, are you dating anyone?”

“Well, yeah. I’m a healthy man. I date.”

“Are you dating anyone serious?”

How many times was she going to ask the same question?

“No. Not really.”

“What’s
not really
—no?” she transitioned in thought. “Answer this: Who was your last date?”

“A woman…from the industry. We’ve been skirting around the idea of formally dating
, even went out last week. It’s taking time, but time is necessary for this type of set up.”

“What’s
formally dating
? Either you’re dating or you’re not.”

“Formally dating is announcing it to the public. I hate that shit.”

“Why?”

“It’s manufactured. My real life isn’t for public consumption,” I more or less mumbled. Truth be told, I didn’t have much of a personal
life. I’d been too paranoid about having it dissected by the public.

“So, this woman…
,” Zoey continued. Her eyes far softer—timid even—expressing vulnerability for switching gears. “…what are your reservations? Why are you stalling?” Zoey looked away, trying to appear less interested than I knew she was.

Great question.

“I don’t know. She’s been around. And while I don’t really trip off a woman’s track record, I certainly don’t want the world to know who my lady has fucked.”

“And?”

Damn. She could sense my apprehension.

“
And
I don’t like arranged relationships. If I’m going to pursue a woman, I don’t need my publicist or hers involved.”

“So, this would be for publicity?”
Zoey didn’t mask her curiosity this time.

“For me it would. For her, maybe not. She’s been consistent over the years in expressing her fixation
with
Stenton Rogers
.”

“And that’s not the real you,”
Zoey noted pensively.

She’s a quick
study
.

She shrugged. “Then give her the opportunity to get to know the real you. You can’t hide behind that
woe is me
cry forever. You already have her earnest attention. That’s half the battle. Make it work for you.” Zoey glanced down at the water, withdrawing eye contact. Her eyes slanted as though she’d been struck with a thought. “Your fears are greater than your reality.” It was delivered like more of a statement than a question. “Sometimes we allow our fears to stifle us. If you want companionship, you’re going to have to lower your guard, just a smidge, to give it a try. If you hide up high on your mountain of fear and paranoia, no one can reach you.”

Her statement jarred me. I couldn’t believe that nugget of wisdom was executed by a damn
youngster. I’d never had a woman encourage a relationship with another woman; they were too busy making an opportunity for themselves. I had been struggling with fear of trusting women. Women with access to my realm of lifestyle were bred. Their faces, color and shapes varied, but their motives never did. Men were the same for that matter. Everyone had a fucking agenda. Since cleaning up my image, I’ve cleaned up my contact list, too.

Even Erika was schooled by her mother on how to bag an athlete. She’d had one or two in her day as well. I wouldn’t be the first baller Erika fucked with and I doubt if I’d be the last. What I did know for sure was that I didn’t want to be a part of that circus. Especially having run into this… Niña. 

I studied her lips. The images of them
and my
body parts ran through my mind in rapid succession. They were all immoral…for this young girl.

“You think your cousin would approve that message?”

Zoey snorted, “No more than I approve the one she’s giving your boy, Alton Alston, right now.” She rolled her eyes softly.

Fucking pretty
.

Our phones went off almost simultaneously. Alton and Angela were done. And unfortunately
, so was my time with this Zoey girl. I left the pool having made a sound decision. I’d be putting Erika’s ass on the back burner. Her body may have acquired several accolades and titles, but her conversation and intellectual measure couldn’t hold a candle to this young girl, Zoey. My quandary was what I felt having spent the past two days with Zoey and how that fucked with my head, because wanting Zoey was ridiculous.

~~~~~~~~~~

~
Zoey
~

Two days after swimming with Stenton, we found ourselves
at one of the restaurants at the country club. And while the atmosphere wasn’t as charged with coldness and mutual resentment at having to babysit each other, Stenton and I weren’t exactly friends either. At least not until the end of that day.

As I ate chicken parmesan that had a bit too much sauce and not enough cheese, I kept my head in my plate. We’d been spending lots of early afternoons together and I still wasn’t able to give him direct eye contact unless I was reaming him out for one of his backhanded remarks.

Stenton wasn’t disrespectful to me, at least not like I felt Alton was. He did however, have a potty mouth: the type of vulgarity that matched his scandalous tattoos. Even with that observation, I secretly thought fondly of how he expressed himself unabashedly. He was brutally honest about whatever we discussed, and there was something comforting about that characteristic.

And his body…
whoa!
I’d hoped he didn’t catch my stumble when we got out of the pool that day. His chest was wide and defined, but not bulky. His tattooed torso glistened from water running down his chest and abdomen. I’d gotten an up close and personal opportunity at viewing the various scripts, Chinese lettering and other graphics driving my curiosity. His trunks hung low…
like
really low
…and I saw the muscular outline of his pelvis. I felt throbbing between my legs and nearly jumped a 180 degree turn to stop my ogling. I’d never thought I’d be privy to his body like that. It felt invasive—more invasive than the conversations we’d taken on in the pool.

It stung when he told me he didn’t have a girlfriend. I felt like Angela and I had been duped into something we didn’t sign up for. But the more I thought about it, I realized what Angela had going on with Alton
, we did ask for; it was the very thing she was seeking with Stenton, only he wasn’t interested.

Then I debated telling her. My mind raced for hours
after the revelation. The decision not to, ruled out. I thought telling her that Stenton and Alton lied would cause her to feel less appealing. I didn’t want her to think she wasn’t good enough for any man. Stenton was not God. She could move on and she did…with Alton.

My phone rang, calling my attention back to the table. I checked the number and saw that it was
Bernard. I sent it to voicemail, figuring I’d call him back when I was alone. I wasn’t exactly prepared to share that I was at a country club, having lunch with
Stenton Rogers
. He’d likely think I’d lost all my scruples.
I
wouldn’t have even believed me.

I turned all of this over in my mind as I forked through my food.

“
Linkin Park, huhn?” I heard from across the table. It annoyed me to no end what I felt when I heard his tenor most times. My throat would close up and pulse would race simply at the sound of his voice.

“I didn’t catch
that,” I replied.

“Your ringtone…
“Numb”.” His chin was angled to the table, but his eyes were on me.

My body was inclined to my plate as I peered up at him. “Oh, yeah. I like them
,” I said noncommittally.

“You must more than like them if you
’ve selected them as your ringtone.”

“What’s wrong with me liking them? Because I’m a black girl and they’re a rock band?” My tone was derisive.

I got so annoyed with people finding it unethnic of me to like genres other than gospel, R&B and rap. I mean, isn’t there more to life than those three groups of music? Are they the only ones blacks subscribe to?

Stenton’s mouth drew up as did his eyes when he shook his head. “Do you like Coldplay?”

“Some of their stuff. They can be a little too soft melodically for my taste. I like some of the harder stuff…the ones pushed from the gut.” I wasn’t ashamed to speak about my peculiar interests.

“Funny…I just knew you’d say
“Yellow” is your favorite.”

“It’s…cute.
“Harder to Breathe” makes you feel. I prefer angst to my rock, or at least something that makes me feel.”

Stenton scoff
ed. “I don’t consider Maroon 5 a rock band. They’re dope and all, but they can go too soulful.”

“And what’s the matter with that? All music can be soulful.” I found my neck jerking.

He scanned the ceiling, letting out a silent chuckle. My stomach did flips when his teeth unveiled. I hated how whenever Stenton smiled, it felt like the sun moved beyond the clouds. And when he smiled with his eyes on me, I felt the cascade of water from the most refreshing spring. I saw the oasis where the sun met the water and created the best ambiance nature had to offer. I saw every detail of it. His smile was that beautiful.

“Right now
“
Secret
”
is what I feel,” he shared, sobering his voice and descending his cheeks, but the slant in his eyes remained.

His tone
was unmistakably scandalous. I had no idea how to take that comment.

“Is that what you feel about the girl you took out last week?”
My eyes fell to my plate and I pushed my food around.

“Definitely not,” he answer
ed before taking a short breath. “Where did you pick up rock?”

I lift
ed my shoulders before releasing them. “My mom cleaned houses in the summer in Baskin Ridge. Her customers had children who were having trouble in school. She mentioned how I could probably help. One summer, I made $500 doing something that came natural to me. I kept going back at the request of the parents. Their children listened to a different kind of music and I caught on to it quickly. One year their dad brought home
KISS
t-shirts signed by Gene Simmons himself.”

“Dope.”
Stenton nodded. His hands were in his lap, and his eyes were in his plate. “So, you tutored?

“Yeah. Still do. Make a few pennies from it, too.”

He nodded again, appearing to absorb my words. It was weird…like he was really interested. I figured everyone had a story.

“So how do you know rock?”

He exhaled as he sat up in his seat. “When they learned I could ball, the first thing they determined was they needed to keep my black ass out of Newark outside of the school year. So, during summer and spring and winter breaks I’d stay with families of coaches to train in upstate New York, Connecticut, Delaware…all over. I learned lots of shit; music, art…a few languages. It felt like being passed around, but I got exposed to different cultures and eventually learned how to use it to my benefit.”

“Do you listen to
hip-hop and R&B?”

Stenton lowered his chin. “
Zoey, I’m from Newark, NJ; of course I listen to rap and R&B. They just aren’t the only two types of music I enjoy. I really dig rock. It allows you to lower your inhibitions. You don’t have to dance to it, and if you do, you don’t need rhythm. It’s also all-inclusive. Whenever I go to rock concerts, I’m always welcomed and not because I’m
Stenton Rogers
either. It’s because they are a group of misfits who were once the cast-asides of society. So they take to underdogs. They accept all people.”