3. July
Lucky for me, Briana hadn’t shown her face again in the last week. I hadn’t heard a peep out of her, and for that, I was thankful. There had been nothing but peace in my new place, and I was relaxing and chilling.
There was one thing that always held true: You couldn’t put a price on peace of mind.
When I first learned that Briana had cheated on me after her ex showed up at our house, I went through a myriad of emotions, from disbelief to anger, to humiliation to hurt, to wanting to do something to somebody.
The next day, I immediately made a doctor’s appointment as soon as the office opened and had an STD screening.
Relief flooded me when I was informed that everything was good with my big homie down below.
But then the next thing that flooded me was apprehension about whether or not the daughter we had been expecting was mine.
I was excited about our baby and building a family with Briana from the moment she told me that she had missed her cycle.
I was probably more excited than she was. Looking back, it now made sense why she had been upset. Her ass wasn’t really upset about not making all the goals she had set for herself. She knew her ass had been cheating, and she was afraid of who the baby belonged to.
Briana argued about the DNA test, but I told her that I would get it one way or another.
She could go willingly, or I would petition the court for one after the baby was born.
If I did that shit, then I was posting it on my social media platform and telling all her family and friends about her scandalous ass.
I couldn’t think of a better way to get what I wanted than by using an empty threat. Briana was a Sociogram model with a large platform like mine. She knew that if I posted that, they would drag her ass on social media, and she might potentially lose followers and sponsors.
When she finally agreed to go, I prayed that the baby would be mine. When the email came back stating that there was zero probability of me being the father, I was devastated. It sucked all the life out of me.
That was three weeks ago. I left home that night and went to stay with Thad in his place, and I hadn’t returned to our home until moving day. While she was out shopping and living it up with her friends, as she always did, I went back to the house and packed all my shit as quickly as I could.
We loaded the truck with the help of some teenage boys in our neighborhood, who I’d paid. No sooner than we had everything on the truck, we hauled our asses out of there, and the four of us unloaded it at my new place.
I had worked hard as hell to find a temporary upscale residence and paid a hefty fee up front to speed the process up. Once my credit and background checks were completed, I was approved to move in right away.
A glance at the clock showed that it was a quarter to one. It was almost time for my appointment with a couple regarding a wedding reception that I would be deejaying next month.
Grabbing my keys and phone, I headed for the door.
I pulled my apartment door closed behind me and inserted the key into the lock at the same time that I heard, “Shit.”
I glanced to my right and saw a woman struggling with her door and bags of groceries. She was gorgeous and fine as hell.
It felt like there was an extra beat in my heart as I checked her out. Momentarily, I forgot all about what I was supposed to be doing as curiosity about the woman next door got the best of me. I moved in her direction only for her groceries to shift in her arms again.
“Careful,” I called as I moved in her direction to assist her.
Alarm struck her beautiful features, and her mouth dropped open. She tried but failed to maintain the bags in her arms. They shifted awkwardly, and everything poured out of the top of the bags. The third plastic bag broke from the bottom, and canned goods rolled onto the floor.
“Here. Let me help you with that.” I jogged to grab the rolling cans, gathering them in my arms before I returned to her side. Grabbing one of the bags that rested on the floor at her feet, I repacked the canned goods. The third plastic bag was useless since it was broken at the bottom.
I held the bag containing the canned goods out to her as she swiped long, glossy black curls back from her face. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
I grabbed an overturned blue box and flipped it over in my hand. Tampons. Shit. Just my luck. I held them out to her, and the woman snatched the box from my hand. I noticed that her beautiful caramel features were red, and I suspected she was embarrassed.
“Name’s July. July Maxwell,” I introduced, extending my hand to hers.
She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t ask.”
We both stood, and I continued to admire her features.
She was roughly a foot shorter than my six-two height, give or take a couple of inches.
Those pouty, plump, round lips seemed to hide a slight overbite.
Her oval-shaped face was framed by thick ringlets all around, which I could tell was her natural texture.
The woman rubbed sweat beads off her little button nose as she once again rolled those almond-shaped, chocolate brown eyes, covered with long, thick lashes at me.
“My mama told me that your eyes would get stuck like that.”
“Excuse me?” she asked in a soft-spoken, Southern twang. She had what most people would describe as a baby voice, but I thought it was sultry and seductive.
“You keep rolling your eyes. My mama said if you keep doing that, they will get stuck like that.”
“Your mama, huh?” she responded tightly. “I’m sure your mama told you a whole lotta other things that you don’t listen to.”
I tilted my head and bit back my smile.
“Who pissed in your cereal this morning?”
“You always got some corny, Southern saying for every response?”
I chuckled and held my head down as I rubbed the back of my neck.
“My bad. Just a little something that I do when I get nervous, I guess.”
“Nervous about what?”
“Being in the presence of a beautiful woman such as yourself, who I wouldn’t mind getting to know.”
“No need to be nervous. I don’t bite,” she remarked wryly.
“Wouldn’t mind if you did,” I responded quickly.
Her eyebrow lifted, and she replied, “Most men don’t like biters.”
“I’m not most men,” I answered, turned on by her sharp commentary.
She was feisty for a tiny little thing. She couldn’t weigh no more than 125 soaking wet.
Although she was petite, she was curvy and toned as well, as though she worked out.
She had a nice ass but small breasts, not more than a handful.
I was an ass and breasts man. I wanted both in abundance, but shorty had enough ass to make up for the missing titties.
She raised one thick eyebrow as her round cheeks lifted into a grimace more so than a smile.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was just about to ask you the same thing. Didn’cha mama teach you it was impolite to stare? Besides, my face is up here, not down here,” she remarked, rolling her hands in a circle in her breast area.
I licked my lips and apologized. “I meant no harm, pretty lady.”
“Mm. Just like a man. I’m sure your girl wouldn’t appreciate the way you’re gawking at and lusting after me.”
“Who says that I have a girl?”
“Do you?” She challenged me as we both bent down to pick up her receipt at the same time. She snatched it from my hands.
I chuckled in a low tone before I replied. “No, I don’t.”
“Lying ass, no good ass nigga. That’s what you are.”
What the hell? Her nasty attitude reminded me that I wasn’t supposed to be checking for women right now, anyway.
I had vowed to chill out on women for a while and get some time to get my head together.
I instantly backed up as a frown settled on my face.
My jaw clenched, and I sighed heavily before I spoke.
“Listen, I ain’t judging you, so give me that same respect. A’ight, li’l mama?”
She shrugged loosely, turned her lips down, and replied. “It’s whatever.”
“Well, you got it. Be easy, baby girl.” I threw up a hand and disappeared down the hall to the elevators.