Page 29 of Love Delayed

He laughed and shook his head.

“So you think I’m funny? You think I’m a damn joke?”

“The way you are acting right now is funny as fuck, and if you want to talk to me about Zamora, you will watch your mouth and talk to me like a lady. All that yelling and shit is gonna get your feelings hurt,” he said.

I wanted to jump on top of that damn island and roundhouse kick his ass across the left side of his head.

Instead, I snickered, shook my head, and said through gritted teeth, “What business did your ex have at your hotel the other week?”

“Zamora and I are working on a new menu for the hotel. She is revamping the menu and will be teaching my cooks the new menu items. That is it,” he replied, looking me in the eyes.

Not believing him, I burst into laughter. When his expression didn’t change, I stopped laughing.

“Are you serious, Marc? That’s what you got for me? I saw you walk her to the bar when you told me to stay in your damn office. I sat outside for over two hours and watched you hold this woman like you hold me when you finally walked her outside. And this is about a damn menu? That’s some bullshit!” I spat.

Seeming unbothered, he turned a burner on under a frying pan and sprinkled a few drops of olive oil into it.

“That is what it is, Eli. If you don’t believe me, that’s ayouproblem, because I don’t have any other words to convince you. Zamora and I have known each other for several years, and she has some other personal issues going on. The hug was friendly; there is nothing more to it,” he said dismissively, and my mouth fell open.

I wanted to cuss and make more fuss, but where would that get me?

“Well, I got what I came for,” I said, getting up and grabbing my purse. “I have zero choice right now but to believe you, but understand, I’m no fool. If I hadn’t signed that contract, I’d fire her. So, you make sure that whatever y’all got going on stays platonic. Because if I find out otherwise, you and I are done,” I threatened before storming out.

I was hotter than fish grease. The nerve of him to treat me that way, and that look on his face––I wanted to slap the shit out of him. After getting in my car, I pulled out my vape pen. I had to calm myself down. He wanted to treat me likeIwas the other woman and wasn’t owed an explanation for him spending time with that bitch. I pulled out my phone and sent a text.

Me:R U free? I need 2 see U.

Rush:Always for u. At the shop with my last client. Come through.

Me:On my way.

I pulled out of Marcus’s driveway and drove to my real man’s place. I hated that I felt jealous of the cook. No way did I want her ruining my plans with Marcus, who was my plan A. If she thought she could just pop back into his life and take him from me, she had another damn thing coming, that’s for sure. Marcus was an easy target. If he and the caterer still had some buried feelings, it could fuck things up for me, and I wasn’t having it.

No, I didn’t love, love Marcus, but I was starting to like him more than I did before. He was a better opportunity for me. I had been with Ross, aka Rush, for years. Rush dibbled and dabbled in this, that, and everything. He wasn’t into any heavy illegal shit––not that I knew of, anyway. At the same time, he had never been that nine-to-five type of man, and I wanted the finer things. I had spent five years rebranding Eliana. I had a passport I wanted to fill with stamps and stuff I wanted to experience, and this negro thought going to Memphis to the casino was doing it big. I had a champagne taste and was knee-deep in credit card debt, but once Marcus and I married, my money problems would be a thing of the past.

Marcus was not only loaded, but he was also classy and fine. I loved how he was educated and respectful, and he didn’t talk crazy to me like Rush. No, Marcus treated me like the woman I envisioned myself to be someday if I could ever shake free of Rush and my hood mentality. The only thing Rush had on Marcus was the way he fucked, and to be honest, he still held my heart. I had loved Rush for as long as I could remember.

When I met Marcus at his hotel during a women’s conference that I was attending, I thought he was a nice guy. He asked me to stick around after the conference, and I did. That’s when I learned he owned the place. As I sat across from him, listening to him tell me about his family business, the wheels in my head started turning.

When he walked me out, he asked to see me again, and without hesitating, I agreed. By date number four, I knew he was feeling me. So, I came up with the plan to make him mine and get half of what I could. I told Rush about him, and liking what he heard, he was quick to go along with it. I wanted to call it off a few times because Marcus was so charming, loving, and considerate, but his sensual lover side translated to boredom for me.

There was no grit or grime in the bedroom. For a girl who is used to getting flipped, sucked, and fucked senseless, Marcus’s bedroom skills rated a 4 on my scale of 1-10. Every now and then I would climax. No anal, no oral, and if I had ever opened my mouth to speak on a threesome, I knew he would have ended our relationship. But I was willing to sacrifice my orgasms if it meant I would be pampered and get to live the posh lifestyle I deserved. I’d just have to creep every once in a while to get my fantasies fulfilled with Rush.

My phone rang. When I saw it was Marcus, I didn’t answer. He then texted me, but I didn’t check it until I pulled into the back of Rush’s tattoo shop. Grabbing my phone from its holder, I read his message:Hey you. I know urupset, but I love you, Eli. I wouldn’t lieto you. I’d never hurt you. Pls believe me.

I did believe him, but that didn’t stop me from powering off my phone and tossing it into my purse. I needed this night of fun. I knew before I even got there that I was in for a night full of drinking, smoking, sucking, fucking, and eating some hood-ass food. I wanted more than ever to leave this lifestyle behind me entirely, but in my case, you can take this girl out of the hood but not the hood out of this girl. I’d go back to my prim and proper ways the next day. Tonight, I was going to let Rush fuck away all of my insecurities about that pot-stirring bitch.

When I walked in, the music was bumping that old cut “Heaven Must Be Like This”, and I knew the vibe from the kush in the air. Rush forbade his techs and clients to smoke during their services, but there were always a host of regulars hanging around in the side room, which was furnished with worn-out sofas, bar stools, and a tiny bar that somehow stayed stock. Rush had the largest booth right in front, so he saw me as soon as I walked in.

“Lock up that front doe, baby,” he said.

After doing what he said, I moved in his direction, and he paused from carving a tattoo into some sistah’s right ass cheek. It was a cute butterfly with multiple colors.

“Let me taste them lips,” he said with a crooked smirk.

Rush was so fucking sexy. Even at forty, he still was fit, and his chocolate-ass skin was painted with more art than an average guy’s. I think his dick and thighs were the only places on his body not covered with ink.

Leaning in, I gave him a slow lingering kiss, and when I pulled back, he licked his lips.