Until My Heart Stops Beating

Until My Heart Stops Beating

 

 

Tonya M Barber

 

Copyright © 2015 Tonya M Barber

All rights reserved.

ISBN:

ISBN-13:

 

 

 

 

 

 

DEDICATION

 

 

This book is dedicated to all the women who feel they ARE unlucky in love. Step out of the box and broaden your horizons, open yourself up for new possibilitiies by invoking the spirit of love without restrictions or reservations. Believe with all your heart that you are deserving of the love you seek.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CONTENTS

 

 

Acknowledgments

 

1

Eye Candy

 

2

Trapped In A Grown Man’s Body

 

3

You Again

 

4

Wicked

 

5

Could It Be Love

 

6

Them People

 

7

Where Are You Going

 

8

A Dream I Never Knew I Had

 

9

I Won’t Be There

 

10

It’s Your Life

 

11

I Don’t Mind                                                        

 

12

I Trusted You

 

13

Dirty Dancing

 

14

Second Chance

 

15

Mae West

 

16

Coming Home

 

17

Anything For You

 

18

Here To Stay

 

19

Accepting What Is

 

20

Surprise

 

21

Grand Opening

 

22

Happy Birthday

 

23

Who Are You

 

24

I Would Have Waited Forever

 

25

Breathe Again

 

26

Gone

 

27

In Another Life Time

 

 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

 

 

As always, I have to thank God the Creator because none of this would be possible without him.  In the midst of all that seemed impossible, He makes a way, for that I give Him ALL the Glory and Honor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

EYE CANDY

 

 

              It was a beautiful day in July. The sun’s rays kissed her with such intensity it stung her skin. Usually, she’d prefer to stand in bus lane 3A at Newark Penn Station and wait for the number 62 bus to Newark Airport but not today. She was an avid reader with absolutely nothing to read at home. She had over sixty books on her bookshelf and had read each and every one of them. As a result, she decided to stop downtown to purchase a few good reads before going to work.

              After leaving the bookstore, Makeba strolled to Broad and Market Streets to catch the bus. Even on a beautiful day such as this it could not make her feel any better about having to catch public transportation but what other choice did she have? She had no other means of getting where she needed to go. This was something she had hoped to change real soon.

              What she hated most was the crowdedness, the constant pushing and shoving and lack of respect from fellow passengers when trying to board the bus. The knowledge that they’d all get on eventually and arrive at their destination at the appointed time did nothing to get them to exercise patience, and consideration by allowing people to get on one at a time, without being pushed, shoved and prodded. She thought catching the bus at Penn Station was bad enough but catching it at Broad and Market was the worse. These people were like savages running through the wild. Those who weren’t waiting on a bus were hanging around the bus stops selling loose cigarettes, prescription pills, narcotics, bus card holders and anything else you could think of. It was always chaotic down there which is why she only stopped through when it was absolutely necessary and not having anything to read made it necessary.

              Makeba rubbed her arm in the area that was burning from the heat of the sun. Turning to the left, she could see the bus slowly approaching. It was apparent she wasn’t the only one that noticed it cruising toward the stop because a large group of people began to swarm on the corner anxiously waiting to board.

      They were like vultures trying to get on, barely allowing people to  exit the bus. Shaking her head in disgust at their behavior, she patiently stood off to the side, a little away from the crowd until she was able to get on without incident. Once the coast was clear she boarded the bus displaying her bus card to the driver. The bus was full, there was standing room only. She held onto the passenger strap hanger with one hand while tightly gripping the bag of books in the other, as the bus pulled off into traffic on its way to the airport.

              Twenty five minutes later she reached her destination. Entering the terminal, she rode the escalator to the second level and walked down to the gate where her restaurant was located. Once she approached security she removed her bracelets, shoes and belt placing them in a bin, laid the bin on the conveyor belt, then walked through the metal detector while her items rolled through the x-ray machine. She was happy the alarm did not go off. She hated when it did because they would have had to wand her to be sure there were no prohibited items on her person.

              Makeba strolled to the end of the conveyor and removed her items from the bin.

              “Hey Keba,  what’s up baby?”

              Turning, to look over her shoulders, she frowned at the sight of the person she saw walking toward her.

              “Hey Melvin, what’s going on?” trying her best not to sound annoyed although she was.

              “Nothing at all. Look, I got tickets to the Kevin Hart show at NJPAC. How would you like to go with me?”

              She pondered his question for a few seconds. She loved Kevin Hart. Had it been anybody else with those tickets offering to take her, she would not have hesitated to say yes but it wasn’t, it was Melvin. The same Melvin she went out with a couple of  months ago. It was the date from hell. He took her to The Office, a sports bar on Bloomfield Avenue. It started off wonderful until his girlfriend, whom he swore he didn’t have, showed up with a few of her girls and made a scene so big the police had to be called. She was so pissed that she had the manager call her a cab, and she left them standing outside of the establishment making a spectacle of themselves. Ever since then, Melvin had been on her to give him another chance. He swore he and the girl that showed up at the restaurant had been broken up for a while and she was just causing a scene in front of her friends. She didn’t buy it though. Her actions and the extent of her rage led Makeba to believe that he was still messing around with her.

              After putting on her sneakers, she retrieved the rest of her belongings from the bin and began walking down the concourse toward the store. Melvin was hot on her heels still pleading his case. She stopped suddenly and turned to him.

              “Melvin, I can’t, but thank you for offering.”

              He hung his head low shaking it from side to side. “You’re never going to forgive me for that night are you?”

              “That’s not true. I forgave you.”

              She resumed walking.

              “Then come to the show with me. Let me make it up to you.”

              “I said I forgave you. I didn’t say I forgot.”

              She stopped walking once more, looked at him and chuckled.

              “C’mon Makeba, you know I’m feeling you. Give a brother a chance.”

              “I did, and it wasn’t good. It was the date from hell. I’m sorry Melvin but I can’t go out with you.”

              She resumed walking, this time increasing her speed towards the store leaving Melvin standing in the same spot looking like he had lost his best friend. Looking back over her shoulders and seeing the expression on his face made her feel bad but not so much so that she was willing to go out with him again. He had his chance and he blew it.   

              She entered the restaurant.

      “Good morning Marcella,” she said as she walked past the food station.

      “Hello Makeba.”

      “Hey Nick.”

      “Hey Keba, what’s going on?”

      “Nothing at all,” she replied as she continued her stride to the back of the restaurant. Reaching the back, she noticed the walk-in freezer was open. She peeked inside.

      “Hey Makeba, girl.”

      “Hey Jewels,” smiling as she continued her stride to the bar area which didn’t open until 11 am. That gave her approximately a half hour to prepare. After entering the bar, she began her daily routine of counting the beer bottles in the refrigerators, checking the temperatures and filling out her cash sheet. After she was done she signed in on the register and smiled when she discovered her bank already in the drawer. She knew nobody else but Rasheeda would do that for her. She loved when Rasheeda worked because she would make sure the bar was stocked and the bank was set up inside the cash drawer. All she would have to do was turn on the flat screen and take customer’s orders as soon as opening time came. According to Makeba, Rasheeda was one of the best Assistant Managers employed at Garden State Bar and Grill. Not only did she have the smarts for running the place, but she had no qualms about pulling up her sleeves and helping out whenever the situation arose.

              Makeba reached for the remote then turned towards the television as she pushed the power button. During business hours there were only two choices for the viewing audience, sports or news. CNN was always the channel chosen until a customer requested a change in programming.

              “Can I have a corona with a lime twist please?”      

              “The bar is not open yet sir,” she stated without turning around.

              “What time does it open?”

              She turned around ready to give him the business.

              “When it o-“

              She stopped, cutting off her own words when she saw the fine specimen of a man that occupied one of the empty chairs at the bar. He was a delight, sweet candy for the eyes, almost beyond description. She stood in the same spot lost in thought taking him all in. He was like a tall vanilla bean latte on a 115 degree day in the desert and she was like a woman sauntering through with a deadly thirst that only he could quench. Suddenly realizing she was staring at him she turned back around trying to regain her composure.

              “Sheesh!”

              He chuckled at her reaction to him.

              “Well, what time does the bar open?”

              She turned back around while glancing at her watch.

              “The bar doesn’t open until 11 sir. It’s only 10:45.”

              “That’s only fifteen minutes from now, c’mon.”

              “I’m sorry, I can’t. Rules are rules.”

              “Rules are made to be broken beautiful.”

              She was flushed. His admiring comment was greatly appreciated though. It had been quite some time since anyone had given her a compliment.

              “C’mon,” he pleaded flashing his million dollar smile.

              There was no way she could resist. His smile was infectious and his cologne was intoxicating. She relented.

              “Ok, just this once, but in case you ever come through here again try to remember the bar opens at 11:00 am, no exceptions.”

              He laughed. “I’ll try to remember that.”

              “Please do.”

              She laid a beverage napkin down on the bar in front of him. She bent down to retrieve a bottle of corona from the refrigerator and placed it on top of the napkin. “Enjoy!”

              “Thank you,” he replied smiling.

              Realizing she was low on napkins, Makeba walked toward the door leading to the kitchen.

              “Excuse me.”

              Sighing, she stopped, looking back over her shoulders. “Yes.”

              “Will it be too much trouble if I asked you to change the channel to ESPN?”

              She inhaled deeply.
You may be cute and all but now you’re getting on my last nerve. Hell yea it would be a lot of trouble. First, you get me to serve you before time and now you want to control the television. Where the hell does he think he is, home? She thought.

              She turned on her heels making her way over to the counter, snatched the remote from beside the register and switched the channel to ESPN. 

              “Thank you.”

              Forcing a smile, she glanced at him then walked away without saying a word.

      After a while more and more customers arrived at the bar. She was happy about that since she made her money from tips, plus, she figured the more customers she had the less availability she’d have for Mr. ESPN or so she thought. As soon as she finished pouring her last customer’s drink she was summoned to the other end of the bar.     

              “Yes sir!”

              “Another one please.”

              “Sure,” she replied refusing to make eye contact.

              Makeba threw the empty beer bottle and soiled beverage napkin in the trash replacing the space in front of him with a clean napkin and another ice cold corona. He watched her every move, taking it all in. She was so beautiful he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He had traveled through Newark Airport many times before but never stopped in this restaurant. There was rarely much time between flights to do so. Today, he did. He decided he wanted to beat the crowd and get through the security checkpoint before it got too busy, so he made sure he arrived a couple of hours ahead of schedule.

              He picked up on her annoyance but that didn’t stop him from finding another reason to get her near him again.

              “What’s good to eat here?”

              “Give me a minute sir,” she replied as she made her way to the other end of the bar to service another guest.

              He took a swig of his drink then focused his attention on the commentator. They were discussing the injury LeBron James had sustained the night before in the NBA Finals. A few minutes later Makeba returned with a menu placing it in front of him.

      “The grilled chicken Caesar wrap is wonderful,” she stated as she washed a few glasses in the sink under the bar.

              Perusing the menu and smiling at his stolen glances of her he replied, “Well, I’ll have one then with a side of curly fries.”

              “How are you going to have something as healthy as a wrap and eat it with curly fries? If that’s the case you might as well go all out and have a cheeseburger.”

              He chuckled at her response. “Ok, I’ll just have the wrap.”

              “Good.”

              Smiling, she approached the register adding the meal to his open check while quickly glancing up at the television pretending not to notice him watching her movements. His glances, no his stares made her nervous but not in a bad way. Feelings she hadn’t had in quite some time were the throbbing between her thighs. Thoughts of the last time she was held, kissed, and touched began to surface.

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