Page 3 of 305 Lovin' 2
“Alright, do what you got to do. Oh, and Monae is in the house.” I leaned back on the front door with my legs spread apart and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Really? Why she here?” Charlie asked with a confused look on her face.
“You knew about her and Quay?” I questioned and watched as she lost eye contact with me. That was the first clue that she was about to start lying.
“Wait! Huh?” she asked me.
I put my hand down and grabbed her by her arm, yanking her to me and resting both of my large hands on her ass. “You heard me. I said did you know about Monae and Quay?”
Charlie let out a nervous sigh. I knew she was prolonging the question because she felt that her loyalty lay with my sister, so if my sister had told Charlie to keep it a secret, then that’s what she was going to do.
“You ain’t got to be scared to tell me. I know the shit already. I caught them fuckin’ at my mama’s house,” I said, still a little on the edge about catching that shit.
“You’re lying! “Charlie gasped. She pulled away from my grasp, but I pulled her back and held her tighter.
“I swear to God,” I announced and Charlie had a stunned look on her face.
“Wow, that’s crazy. So, how’s Monae? What is she in there doing?” Charlie asked after I ran down everything to her.
“She okay. She was crying and shit on the way over here, but she in the kitchen cooking now,” I told Charlie.
“Hmm, I know my best friend and I know that she’s still not in the best of moods right now, so I’m not going to go in there fuckin’ with her. I’ll talk to her when I get back, once she cools all the way down. And I’ll see you later tonight? Or are you going to the studio?” she asked.
“Shit, since Monae here, I may as well,” I said.
Charlie nodded her head. “Okay, well behave yourself and I’ll see you whenever you come back home.”
“What you mean behave myself?” I asked.
“What I’m saying to you is, keep my dick in your pants, nigga!” she said.
I looked down at her and smirked. “I got you.” And with that, I leaned in and kissed her soft lips a few times before she pulled away. I watched her as she walked over to her, car and once she got in and pulled off, I headed back inside the house.
Chapter 3: Toya
“Hey Diandre, this is Toya. I’m going over some paperwork and I noticed that there are a few papers that I didn’t have you sign for the condo. When you get a chance, please call me back so th
at we can schedule a time for you to come to my office,” I said, leaving a message after the beep and then I hung up the phone in my office.
I dreaded having to call this cocky ass nigga, but the shit had to be done. I just knew that I was done with him and wouldn’t have to worry about seeing or hearing from him once I had given him the keys for the condo, but clearly things didn’t work out in my favor.
This was my life right now. I was a full-time buyer’s agent and I loved and hated my job at the same time. I wasn’t your traditional, black girl … wait, but then again, I wasn’t fully black. In fact, I was mixed. My mother was a beautiful Puerto Rican woman while my supposed father was an African American male, but I’ll talk my shit about him later on down the line. If my mother taught me anything as a child, she taught me that there wasn’t anything cute about a woman who lacked education and who was lazy. My mother instilled in me the importance of going to school and finding a good job so that I wouldn’t have to ever depend on a nigga for shit. Which is why I graduated number one in my high school class at the age of 17, was qualified as my class valedictorian with a G.P.A of a 4.6, and never brought home anything less than straight A’s.
After graduating high school, I moved to Tallahassee, where I had a full ride to attend Florida State University. Out of all the colleges that I had been accepted into, FSU is where I wanted to go, and I had known that since the 6th grade.
I’m not going to sit here and think of some sad story to tell about my past because I am proud of the way I was raised. I am proud to say that my mother was a single parent and I didn’t want for shit as a child. There was always food on the table, clothes on my back, and most importantly, a roof over my head. My mother was a beautiful woman. She would put you in the mindset of the late singer, Selena because she was just that beautiful. She did it all by herself. Took me to school, worked, made sure she was there for all of my cheerleading competitions and just loved me unconditionally.
I’ve seen pictures of my father in the past from what my mom showed me, and I’ll admit that a face that looked so loving and kind was the complete opposite of his actions. My father was a Black man, almost the color of caramel, with gray eyes that I inherited from him. My mother showed me a picture of him when I was a little girl and that picture is forever embedded into my head. Like every other little girl, I longed for a father in my life. I wanted to be a daddy’s girl and live in a two parent household. It’s funny because, as a child, I would convince myself that my father was coming back, but when I turned sixteen, I knew that my father coming to see me was never going to actually happen.
As a child, you are very much aware of the things that are happening around you. I say that to say, at five years old, I knew something wasn’t right. I knew that I would see other little girl’s dads come and pick them up from school while it was always my mother for me. Which is why I began to question my mother about him. She put it the best way she could at the time, and told me that my father wasn’t around because he was scared of responsibility. Of course, as a five-year-old little girl, I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. It wasn’t until I turned eighteen, that my mother decided to use different terms and basically tell me that my daddy wasn’t shit and he was a coward for running away from responsibility.
My mother explained to me the type of relationship that my so called father and her shared. She confessed to me the numerous times he cheated on her, the constant disrespect and the creeping in right before the sun rose. She also informed me that since the day she announced her pregnancy to him, she hadn’t heard from him since, which is some real coward shit. My mother told me that abortion never crossed her mind, and she didn’t cry or beg for that nigga to stay. For that alone, even though my mother isn’t here with me, I still have the utmost respect for her, and I don’t know a woman alive that’s braver than she is.
And now, at the age of twenty-four, I just felt lost and angry all the damn time. I had so much to be proud of, but the truth of the matter is, I felt like I had no one. My own father didn’t want me, and the one person that I loved to death was taken away from me; my mother. My mom died in a terrible car accident last year, and honestly, I still wasn’t over her death. I still cry myself to sleep almost every night because I’m lost, and it still feels like yesterday that she was suddenly taken away from me. Just like myself, my mother was an only child, so I didn’t have any aunties or uncles that I could spend time with. Yes, I had Monae and Charlie, but they had lives of their own, and I didn’t expect them to put their lives on hold because of me. Besides, I honestly felt like they couldn’t relate to what I was going through.
I didn’t even realize that I had started crying until a tear hit the paper that was sitting on top of my desk. Quickly, wiped my eyes and stood up from my chair. Looking down at my watch, I noticed that it was 10:33 at night. I picked up my black blazer that was sitting on the chair in front of me and quickly put it on. I was trying to get paperwork in order and at least five houses printed out that I could show to a family of three tomorrow morning. Once I grabbed my purse, I turned the light off in my office, locked the door and left.
“Hey, Toya! I didn’t know you were still here,” my co-worker James said and walked in my direction.