18. Squeak
Two nearly three weeks later…
Begrudgingly, I’m starting to realize that Deacon has me and my damn heart in shambles, which shocks me because I haven’t known him long. Yet, his absence and not seeing his dark eyes flash with desire whenever they land on me has been brutal. I have been staying with my parents, who have thoroughly enjoyed having me around. Neither of them questioned me further when I told them I simply wanted to spend some time with them after being gone for so long. Robyn sent a text the day after I left Deacon’s to tell me that my car was at her place.
Oddly, I have yet to go get it, choosing to drive my parents' extra vehicle. What’s worse is that my chest has been unrelentingly tight since Deacon’s absence. I’ve been feeling like my dog died, and I don’t even own one. Either Deacon has voodoo in his dick, or my bitch ass heart has fallen in love with one of Satan’s minions. Neither option is good for me or my mental health, so I need to figure out how to erase Deacon from my psyche. It's been weeks since I saw or spoke to Deacon, so I really don’t have a reason to still be stuck in the twilight zone of our fake existence. In a single gaze, my stupid ass agreed to be Deacon’s woman while ignoring the rational part of my brain questioning his sanity. Then in a single taste of what his dick can do before dismissing me like a house mouse, I’m pining after the man.
“What the hell is wrong with me? Maybe I’m the crazy one in this situation.”
I should be focusing on completing the background check for a candidate, yet my simple ass is stuck in my head about Deacon.
“Good morning, Janelle,” Chance greets, walking into my office with brown interoffice envelopes in his hand.
“Hey, Chance,” I say somberly before focusing on my screen.
“See, this is why I needed to come by your office. What did that man do to have you moping around here, Janelle?”
My chest tightens at the memory of Deacon and I having sex and then him discarding me like a piece of garbage. Even with my urge to fall apart, I will never be comfortable sharing it with Chance.
“What makes you think he did something?”
“It’s the dejected look in your once bright and shiny orbs. Or it could be the heaviness within your saggy shoulders. I can easily tell your man did it because I have been responsible for a few women becoming as despondent as you are.”
“Is there something else you need?” I ask dismissively.
Chance isn’t my counselor, and being an acquaintance doesn’t give him access to my private thoughts or feelings.
“Yeah. My wife and I are having a little gathering at our crib. I wanted to invite you to come hang with me and my people. Let me and my wife help restore the light in your eyes.”
*bzz*
My heart rate increases when my phone vibrates with a singular notification indicating a text alert. Without answering Chance, I damn near fracture my index finger, grabbing my phone and going to my text app.
Tinker Belle:
Hey, bestie. I just wanted you to know that I love you and am thinking about you.
Seeing the text coming from Tinker Belle has my heart dropping to my feet because Deacon still hasn’t responded to the message I sent days ago. Opening our thread, I read over the message again.
Me:
If you want to end our relationship, just be a man about it. In this situation your words should be just as loud as your silence. Or maybe they are.
My eyes damn near balloon when I reach the end and see a sign of life from Deacon’s end.
Deacon:
*read*
Heat explodes throughout my body at seeing that Deacon read my message but didn’t respond. Closing out of the messages without bothering to answer Tinker Belle, I stare into Chance’s questioning gaze.
“Sure. I’ll come. What time and where?” I ask.
Dad:
Are you coming back here tonight?
Smiling at the text on my screen, I type a quick message to Dad to put his mind at ease. He hasn’t been going to bed until he knows I’m in the house and in for the night. It’s funny because I’m well past the years when Dad has to fret about my comings and goings. Yet, Dad said as long as I’m temporarily staying in my childhood bedroom, he’ll keep watch over me. The statement had a pang of guilt swimming in my stomach for not being honest with him and Mom about why I was truly staying with them.
Me:
Yes, sir.
Dad:
All right. Have fun.
Closing the message, I lock my phone and drop it in my purse before exiting the vehicle to go do just that. Chance and his wife live in a housing community a few streets from Baxter Projects. It’s not the best area of town, yet my need to keep my mind off Deacon’s rejection has me ignoring the feeling that’s causing my neck hair to stand at attention. With the overflow of cars, I had to park several houses down from Chance’s home, which had me quickly walking to my destination. Less than ten minutes later, I gently step onto the porch, trying to ignore the step that looks like it's seconds from crumbling. Music flows from the open front door, making it impossible for anyone to hear me, so I walk in, searching for Chance.
“Hey, girl. You must be Janelle. I’m Chance’s wife, Kiesza. Welcome to our home,” a brown skin woman with a fire ass fade and wide hips says when I enter the living room.
“Nice to meet you, Kiesza. Thanks for allowing me into your home.”
Waving me off, Kiesza takes my hand and introduces me to the other people in the room before heading through the house.
“Make yourself at home, girl. This is the kitchen, and I’ve made enough food to feed an army, so don’t be shy. In the blue cooler are several beverage options, including water. That bowl that looks like lemonade will creep up on you, so be careful if you choose to indulge. There’s also a full bar in the basement where one of Chance’s cousins is playing bartender.” With that, Kiesza leaves me in the kitchen where several people are helping themselves to the wide spread of food.
The nagging feeling in my body seems to increase while I move around the kitchen, making me feel like I should go home. I have yet to run into Chance, but I’m sure I will as the evening progresses. Shrugging off my discomfort, I grab a plate and fill it with queso, chips, spinach dip, and meatballs. Since I’m in a foreign place, I grab a water bottle, opting out of the liquor choices. Seeing some empty chairs out back, I head that way to enjoy the music pouring from the speakers and to people-watch.
“Aye. What’s up, Janelle. Thanks for coming through,” Chance says when I step onto the deck out back.
Giving Chance a weary smile, I ignore the blunt hanging from his mouth because, regardless of our jobs, it's not my business to guilt or snitch on him. Having seen Chance, I continue on to the open chair I see under a tent toward the middle of the yard.
“Damn, maybe I shouldn’t have drank so much water,” I mumble, trying to unbutton my pants while shifting my weight from side to side.
Despite how clean the bathroom appears, I spent three minutes lining the seat with toilet paper, and now my bladder is torturing me.
“Ah,” I say once I release the evidence of multiple bottles of water throughout my time here.
For the most part, I have been enjoying spending time with Chance and his family, but the nagging rumbling in my stomach hasn’t left despite eating when I got here. Flushing the toilet, I turn on the water and quickly wash my hands, deciding to make my exit once I leave this bathroom. Turning off the water, I grab paper towels and open the door, instantly frowning when my eyes connect with a black leather vest with a Satan’s Cobras patch. Above the patch is the word, President, letting me know whoever is blocking the door runs this particular club.
“I have been waiting hours to get an opportunity for our paths to cross,” an unfamiliar yet deep masculine voice says, which immediately causes a cold shiver to run through my veins.
Slowly, the man turns around, wearing a sinister grin, and recognition slams into me the minute our gazes collide.
Oh shit… the Boogeyman.
Tremors begin rattling my body, and the urge to release my bladder, despite its emptiness, coincides with the need to escape.
“Mhm. I bet your ass thought I wasn’t serious about killing you. Now, we’re gonna slip out of here quietly so I can make good on my promises.”
God, please help me.
Words fail me, and I’m unable to pull my eyes from the cold and dark hatred within this man’s orbs.
“Aye, man. I’ve been looking for you. My cousin wants to join the club. Come on.” A familiar male voice sounds in the distance, causing Boogeyman to momentarily pull his eyes from mine.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Boogeyman says happily.
“Have you seen Janelle?” Kiesza asks, entering the area and causing me to push through the slight open space between Boogeyman and me. “Oh, come on, girl. I want to introduce you to someone.”
Wordlessly, I nod before taking a step that Boogeyman halts when he grabs my arm tightly.
“This ain’t over. I’ll see you soon,” Boogeyman says before walking off, whistling a tone only he can identify.
“Maybe I don’t need me to play matchmaker after all,” Kiesza says, smirking.
“Actually, I’ll have to take a raincheck. My stomach is bubbling and rumbling, so I gotta get home because certain things are meant to be done in the privacy of my home. Next time, though,” I say, walking away from Kiesza like the house is on fire.
My pulse is beating wildly in my neck, and my chest is battling my heart in a war cry with different drum cadences, forcing me to slip out of the house without another word. Thankful for my tennis shoes, I put my purse strap over my head and run in the direction of my vehicle. When I get to the car less than three minutes later, I shakily unlock the door, insert the key in the ignition, and pull away from the curb, all while praying loudly.
“God, please don’t let him follow me. Please protect me from the one who intends to take my life. I know I haven’t always prayed, but please don’t let this be the time You turn your ear from me, oh God.” Tears fall rapidly as I fight the blurring of my vision to steer the vehicle toward my parents’ house.