Broken Clocks (Ex-Factor: Prequel)

Prologue – Silas

Charmaine’s fingers dug into my countertop like she was trying to crack the marble. The pressure had turned her knuckles dark. Her chest rose and fell like she was counting breaths. Her pretty brown skin flushed nearly purple. This was why I didn’t do relationships. Angry women were scary.

“I know how the world sees me,” I said, leaning against the fridge.

“Naomi calls me a fuckboy to my face. My baby momma—” She was fussing at me about being more mature.

To her, that meant settling down, having vacations with her parents, cutting off my friends.

She wanted to fix me. To sand down my edges until I fit her blueprint of what a “real man” was supposed to be. I wasn’t doing that for her.

“You don’t have a baby momma, Silas.” Her voice was brittle.

I grinned. There it was. The reason we couldn’t be together. Charmaine couldn’t even love me right—she wouldn’t play along with the delusion. “What does Angel do when I say, ‘Hey, baby momma, where’s my son?’”

Her top lip curled. “She hands you Ekon. Or tells you he’s at.” “Exactly. That makes them my son. My baby momma.”

She crossed her arms so tight her biceps strained the sleeves of her dashiki. “Why do you say it like that?Baby momma.” “You want me to use the King’s English? ‘Esteemed mother of my progeny’?” “You don’t have a child, Silas.”

I flexed my jaw. “Ekon’s mine. You don’t have to contribute genetically to love a child like your own.” Her eyes flickered with pity or irritation, whatever.

“So, I’m just supposed to be cool with you calling another womanbaby momma?” “I’m not fucking Angel.” I paused. “Though I would. Why does it matter what I call her as long as Cassius is okay with it? But if given the chance I would."

“It’s about respect,” she rebutted.

I barked a laugh, purposely playing as if I didn't understand what she was saying. "Respect? Angel’s one of five of the only people on this planet I’d bleed for.

You’re mad I call her ‘baby momma,’ but she’s one of the reasons I’m growing.

She deserves respect. She's rooted for you and you know it.

Where's your loyalty, Charmaine? Or is that incense smoke fogging up your vision? "

She jabbed her finger at me like it was a knife. “I was talking about respect forme. You can’t mention Angel without adding how much youwanther.”

That was all by design. I’d been planting these seeds for months.

After Solomon cosplayed Jack Torrance, I’d realized something…

I didn’t want Charmaine’s incense and forced Zen, her disappointed sighs.

I wanted toburnfor someone. To lose my goddamn mind if they walked away.

With Charmaine? My dick barely got hard for her anymore.

Maybe that wasn’t her fault. Maybe I’d fucked too many women. Maybe I just wanted a woman I didn’t have to fuck to tolerate. Maybe I’d woken up one morning and finally grown the fuck up.

“Look, I don’t want to hurt you. I care for you, but—”

Her palm cracked against my cheek so hard my vision blurred. For a second, all I heard was ringing. I touched my lip, came away with blood.Damn.“What happened tonamaste? You’re dressed like Erykah Badu but hitting me like Mike Tyson?”

Her breath came ragged. “Irisked my sobrietyfor you. I could’ve been with Cassius.” I licked the blood off my teeth and laughed. “No, you couldn’t have.”

She stiffened, narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?” “He’d have fucked you once.” I wiped my mouth. “But Angel’s his one and—”

She shoved me. Hard. I stumbled back, still grinning. “Why do you keep mentioning her?” Charmaine’s voice splintered. “Becauseyoubrought up Cassius. Cassius wasn’t giving up Angel for anyone. Not even you,flower child.”

A tear slid down her face. She swiped it away like it offended her. “You treat people like they’renothing. Like none of this is real.” I shrugged. “It’s not real with you. I treat everybody else great.”

“Fuck you, Silas. You heartless motherfucker.”

The door slammed hard, the framed photo of me and Ekon rattled on the wall. Then there was silence.

I made my way to the bar and poured vodka into a glass, let it burn my throat on the way down. My living room smelled like her patchouli oil. I hated that shit.

I called Angel. She picked up on the second ring. “Baby momma,” I drawled.

A sigh met my ear. “Silas,what? Your child just drew on my walls.” “I’ll come get him if you hate him.” “Shut up. Why are you calling me?”

“I finally got rid of Charmaine.” Ice clinked as I swirled my drink. “You gotta block her now.”

She gave me a dry laugh. “Again? When y’all getting back together this time?” “She hit me.” “Youearnedit.” “She said she could’ve had Cassius.” “No, she didn’t,” Angel said in disbelief.

I chuckled. “Yes, she did. And even after that, I tried to let her go gently. But she got on unruly and ‘I gave her ass back to the streets roughly.’” I said mocking Naomi voice for the last part.

“She was good for you…”

"So? None of that matters if I don't want her. Good for me isn’t the same as right for me."

Ekon’s laughter bled through the phone. Angel muttered,“Boy, if you don’t—”before sighing. “Goodbye, Silas. I hope this works out for you.” The line died.

I finished my drink, stretched out on the couch. For the first time in a year, I could breathe.

The silence didn't judge me. The walls didn't expect anything from me.

I was fine by myself for now because I knew —somewhere out there, she had to exist. A woman who'd understand when I called Angel "baby momma" instead of clutching her pearls.

One who'd understand that loving Ekon like my own didn't make her less important.