Chapter 8
Ian
Hal was riding my tail because he couldn’t have a guys’ night out anymore—not that we had one in the first place. His issue was that I had a girlfriend who took up any extra time I did have. Even though I still met up with him on my late shift for lunch, this was not good enough, so he kept hounding me.
“Man, come on. Tomorrow. You and me. I heard about this new place. That’ll be cool. It’s in South Philly,” he urged.
“Is it on South Street, because I don’t feel like that scene right now?” I asked.
“No, Grandpa,” he snapped back. “It’s in South Philly. Tomorrow. Me and you. No Ivory or her magic pussy.”
“Stop talking about my woman’s pussy.” I gave him a sharp look as my hands clenched.
His hands immediately went up in surrender. “My bad, bro. It’s just . . . I’ve never seen you like this. You really like her, huh?”
“Yeah, I do,” I replied. “It’s like I know she’s the one. I can’t really explain that shit. I just know.”
“Damn,” Hal whistled. “Then we got to go out tomorrow because I’ll be hearing wedding bells and buying bread makers soon.”
I punched him in the arm and continued to eat my food. He might have had a point. Little did I know that my words would be tested within twenty-four hours.
The next day, I get dressed for Hal and me to go out. Ivory and I talked that morning before she left for work, and she instructed me to make sure that Hal kept the girls away from me. She didn’t strike me as the jealous type, but I felt the same way. If she ever did go out with her friends, which I never heard her mention any, then I’d want a “no touch or talk” policy too.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked Hal as we caught an Uber to the south side of town.
“Calm down,” he quipped. “To have some good food and listen to some good music. Wait, where are your glasses?”
“I’m wearing contacts,” I replied.
“Is that Ivory’s idea too?” he whined.
“No, asshole.” I pushed him against the side of the car, causing the Uber driver to look at us. “I didn’t know where you were taking me and wanted to make sure nobody broke my glasses in a drunken rage.”
Hal burst out laughing and said, “Yeah, that’s probably wise.”
“Fuck,” I sighed.
We pulled up in front of a nice place that had an amazing voice ringing from it. The smells coming from this place were amazing too.
“This place ranks high, and I kept getting told to come here.” Hal rubbed his hands together. “Let’s do this.”
We entered, settled at our table, which was reserved, and saw that they had a band up. They were taking a break while we put in our orders. The waitress came back without drinks when the person on stage announced the next singer who would grace the stage. The band in the back stayed, but the singer was different, I think.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the stage Ivey! And welcome back the Turnup Band!” the announcer shouted.
“People keep talking about this woman named Ivey. They say she’s really good,” Hal whispered.
A woman stood at the center of the stage with her head down. She had a curly hairstyle with red streaks going through it. The pianist hit a note, and the woman belted out and held it for so long, almost everyone stood up and clapped for her. Then she raised her hands and began to sing a song I never heard.
Hal and I were in the back, but the thing about my contacts was that I probably needed a new prescription. Sometimes things would get blurry because I had astigmatism. I was contemplating on getting the corrective surgery, but I needed more research on the results.
The woman sang her heart out, but it wasn’t until she looked into the audience that I realized there was something familiar about her. Everyone was standing anyway, so I got a little closer to see her because she looked just like Ivory. Once I made it to the dance floor, my vision suddenly cleared, and I saw she didn’t look like Ivory—she was Ivory. My girlfriend!
For a while, I just stood there in awe as she sang her heart out. Mine, on the other hand, was slowly breaking. So much so that I turned almost violently and told Hal I was leaving.
“What?” he exclaimed. “Dude, what’s wrong?”
I didn’t stick around to answer. My goal was to get the fuck out of there before I lost all of my shit and caused a scene. One would be caused, but not that night.
I was hell on wheels the next day at work. Nobody wanted to deal with me. So when the brave soul told me that a Ms. Ivory Nash was here to see me, I should have kept my ass in the bag and focused on people who were sick and had sense enough to bring their ass to urgent care.
Storming through the doors, I saw her standing at the reception desk, laughing at something Ron said.
“Ron, shouldn’t you be working? That’s what I pay you for!” I snapped, causing her confused eyes to hit me. “How can I help you, Ms. Nash?”
“Ian?” She tilted her head to the side. “Everything all right? I’ve been calling and texting you all day.”
“Everything is fine, Ms. Nash,” I replied, still behind the counter.
I didn’t even want to be near her. My heart hurt so bad.
“Can we talk in private?” she asked.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I told her. “It seems that the woman that I thought I knew is not that woman at all. The woman I know doesn’t have hobbies or sings. That woman has secrets that she never explained. That’s not a woman I want to talk to in private because she’s not a woman I can trust.”
On that note, I turned to leave, and I really didn’t care what anyone thought and definitely what she had to say.
Chapter 9
Ivory
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Ian Crain was not just mad. The man was hurt, and it was because of me. I needed to explain, but he was livid. I simply turned around and left because there would not be a resolution that day.
Calling him didn’t work because his ass blocked me, and if he was home, I didn’t know. Therefore, I wrote him letters and put them in the postal mail. It was no guarantee that he’d read them, but I still had to explain.
I called his office every day, but he would never take my call. So after a couple of weeks, I decided to do what I originally intended to do in the first place.
I went to urgent care, paid my co-pay, and waited in the room for the doctor to come to me because I didn’t take the flu shot.
On cue, he came through the door with his speech already going.
“It’s careless to not get the vaccines, and I am sick and tired of people.” He looked up and inhaled. “What are you doing here?”
It was not a good tone, but it also wasn’t filled with venom.
“Here to have some drunch and give you a piece of my mind,” I told him truthfully.
“Drunch?” He raised an eyebrow and looked around.
I pulled out soup, bread, crackers, and ginger ale.