Except for today.
I wanted to have dinner with my cousin. It was off my routine, but was a good exception.
I was able to make it through lunch with the asshole I met with and secure our deal. On the way back home, Brandi remained silent, but before I could stop myself, I blurted out the question in my mind.
“Could you hear what he said about you?”
As soon as I asked, I knew the answer. It showed in her expression; she heard every fucking word. While I know she’s a hired guard, I also didn’t like the idea of her hearing another man say something like that about her.
Fuck, that’s why I had not wanted a woman guarding me.
If she were a man, I wouldn’t have thought twice about the conversation. My inner voice told me if it was another woman, and not Cruise, I wouldn’t have given a shit, either. I didn’t like those remarks being made about her.
No.
No.
No.
Brandi looked at me with eyes that unsuccessfully tried to hide her answer. “Yes,” she replied, then turned away to look out the window.
The urge to explain his behavior—and mine—was strong, but I refused, because it was asinine. I owed her neither apology nor explanation. What the fuck was wrong with me?
Later that evening, as promised, Trent came over for dinner. He showed me pictures of his kids taken over the years. Fuck, this man had changed. Even told me how he met his wife and how he almost lost her because he was being bullheaded.
“You thinkin’ of settling soon, man?” Trent asked me.
We sat in the parlor, drinking and puffing on a couple of Cubans.
“Hell, fucking no.” I laughed, bringing on a cough as the stringent smoke filled my lungs.
Trent jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the door. “Your agent?” He pursed his lips. “You look at her like I look at my wife, Bernie.”
I laughed so hard I almost started choking again.
“Fuck,” I snorted. “You’re, like, the second person with this shit today. She’s a woman, but I ain’t fucking her. Not interested. I have fuck buddies. Shit, as a matter of fact, got one coming the day after tomorrow. She,” I jabbed my finger toward the door, “is my employee who protects me, my house and family. That’s all.”
Trent poked out his bottom lip as he took a swig of Scotch. “Fuck, man.” He chuckled. “Sound like me before I met Bernie. I swear she stopped my world when she got off the elevator. I just started running my fucking mouth. I called her a black goddess within the first minute. The next minute she smacked the shit out of me.”
We both laughed at that turn of the story.
“Fucking woman taught me so many things.” One corner of Trent’s mouth turned up with wonder, even reverence, for his wife, as if thinking about occurrences he did not voice. “She’s everything to me. Brought me into her world, Eli. I mean, with my fucked-up shit about black women and even how we met. She didn’t take my shit. Still doesn’t and I swear, I love her more for it.”
He took another sip and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think the man was going to get emotional, but he just laughed and said, “Just saying, I didn’t know I needed someone like Bernie until she knocked on my door. I was living my life, doing what I was raised to do. Then she came, and I ain’t letting her go. Gave me two beautiful children and I’m leaving a fucking legacy. Junior and Bonnie will be set for life. Bernie will be, too. My point is,” he jerked his thumb toward the door again, “don’t be fucking stupid. If she pullin’ on those hardened strings of your heart like I think she is then you better get your claws in her fast and never let go. She’s like my Bernie. Got dreams, missions, and worlds to explore that didn’t include me, so I had to include myself and then make sure she gets to fulfill every fucking thing she wants. If she wants to go to the gotdamn moon, I’m gonna Uber a shuttle and get her ass there.”
He put out his cigar, drained the remaining amber liquid in his glass and nodded, to signify he was done.
I leaned forward. “Trent, she’s my bodyguard.”
“You’re so full of shit,” he laughed. “She’s going to guard something, all right. Jumping on the head of either your cock or another man’s. You fucking choose.”
The last thing I wanted to imagine was Brandi with another man.
No.
My head shook before I could stop, then I gave my cousin the side-eye.
“Is it true what they say about black women?” I knew I was getting personal, but I couldn’t myself.
“What? About the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice?” he replied with one raised eyebrow.
“Yeah.”
“Let’s just say this,” Trent laughed. “Bernie smacked the shit out of me when I said that to her. I’ve had a lot of pussy, including black pussy. Cousin, pussy is pussy, until it’s attached to a beautiful, loyal angel who only gives it to you because it’s yours. You know every nook and cranny of her body…how she likes it…how she murmurs your name, whether it be a pet name or your real one…how she looks at you when she’s about to cum hard for you…how she leaves marks on your body that you’ll fucking love. When the pussy is attached to what belongs to you; then it’s sweeter. Hands down.”
I looked around the room. “Who the fuck are you, man? Go get my cousin.”
We both laughed, talked some more, and I made a promise to go see him, his wife, Bernie within the next year. I’m not sure why I had let so much time go by before connecting with my family. The last I saw Trent was at his mom’s funeral almost four years ago, and I was in and out of there before anyone could ask me questions, because my mother had a bad reaction to one of her many surgeries. She began to violently throw up outside of the church, so I had to move quickly and get her to the hospital. The only thing I was able to do was sign the guest book, before leaving.
The truth is condolences are shit. Saying sorry is worse. Sympathy is dumb. Just give me a glass of bourbon and leave me the fuck alone. That’s how I felt when my father died. I was thirty when I got the call that he had been in a car crash. Mom kept him on a ventilator for six months before we pulled the plug. Call me a miserable son-of-a-bitch, but I preferred it that way. I just wanted to do my grieving and then let it go. It took months, but once I came out of mourning, I was good.
It was late when Trent left, which was fine because I had rescheduled the rest of my day. The guards were still on post when I walked him to the door. I saw Brandi near the lake, walking around the perimeter. Once Trent drove off, I started in her direction. The woman didn’t miss much, so she knew I was headed her way.
“You think my enemies are hiding in the lake?” I asked as I approached.
“Enemies are everywhere,” she replied with a straight face.
“Are you so serious all the time?” I found myself asking.
“Are you asking, or is it Bernard Flynn wanting to know?” She answered, with those sharp eyes on me again.
Ouch.
“What if I was asking for him?” I asked, not revealing that her dig impacted me at all.
“Then my answer would be yes,” she retorted, continuing to walk the perimeter.
“What if the questions were for me?”