Leah #2
When Daya and I parted ways, I got back on the interstate and headed toward his house. I tried calling him to no avail. I didn’t think anything of it, though. I would see him when he made it home and welcome him with the warmest greeting.
***
I waved to the guard in the tower, and he opened the gate to let me inside the community. I'd been here so much that I had become familiar with everyone on each shift. They could spot my car a mile away and knew me by name.
I drove down the road until I reached Rocko’s house. The driveway was littered with every vehicle except one. So, I knew that he still wasn’t home.
When I entered the code he had given me and walked inside, the house smelled immaculate. The floors were cleaned and buffed, and a subtle yet masculine scent they had sprayed throughout the house made me moan in approval. They had done an amazing job at resetting his space.
After putting this week’s wardrobe away, I walked into the kitchen and decided to take out one of the meals I'd prepared for him to eat tonight.
No sooner had I set the bowl in the microwave than I heard his truck outside. I smiled, because he was right on time. I started it, then grabbed utensils for him to eat with and a bottle of water.
The front door opened, and I went to the kitchen entrance to meet him. When he came in, I could tell that something was bothering him. His natural look of disdain was heightened tonight, and I noticed it immediately.
“Hey, baby.” I sang, extending my arms for him to hug me.
Normally he’d lean down, grab me by my waist, and slap my ass. But tonight he completely walked past me. He didn’t even acknowledge the fact that I was standing there.
Slowly, I dropped my arms to my sides and returned the energy as he plopped onto the stool near the island, then glared at me.
“Leah. Did you fire my chef?” He asked. His energy was on fire, but his voice was cool. I loved that he never had to raise it to get his point across. My father always told me that if a man couldn’t communicate, he couldn’t lead.
“Oh, that’s what you’re upset about? Yes, I did.” I didn’t lie.
The microwave beeped, signaling his food was ready, and while I wanted to leave it in there for him to grab himself, I went and got it.
“How can you fire somebody that doesn’t work for you?” He asked. I could hear the weariness in his voice.
“I didn’t like her tone. She disrespected me, and she had those long-ass nails and no gloves on, handling chicken and seafood like Salmonella doesn’t exist.”
He scoffed and just stared at me. It looked like he had a long day. I should be feeding him, running his bath water, and then draining his nuts, but he wanted to fight about another woman.
I set the plate of food that I made for him. I used the fork to break off a piece of the baked chicken and dipped it in the mashed potatoes.
I blew on it.
“I made the food for you this week, Rocko. Here, taste this.” I urged.
I held the fork toward his mouth, and he reluctantly took it and ate.
“Good, isn’t it?” I gloated.
He was quiet as he ate from the plate that I had made him. I sat there across from him, letting him work through whatever he needed to in his head. But there was no way that I’d sit here and defend what I did.
When he finished eating, he cleaned the plate and dropped it in the sink.
I opened the fridge and then grabbed a Dr. Pepper; it made him frown and go to the fridge himself.
“You ordered groceries?” He questioned.
“And snacks.”
“Yeah, Leah, you gotta go, ma.”
I was caught off guard by his anger, especially because it was just food.
“It’s that deep about snacks and soda?” I scoffed.
“No, it’s that deep that you’ve come into my house and fired my staff and changed shit like you live here.”
“I mean…. I haven’t been home in two weeks, Rocko. If I’m going to be here, I might as well make our house comfortable.”
There it was. That slip of the tongue I could never seem to control. The moment I said it, I saw his expression change, and I knew I had fucked up.
“Aight. I’ll talk to you later.” He doubled down, trying for the second time to dismiss me.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“That means I need space, Leah. I’ll hit you up later.” He said, leaning against the counter and crossing his legs.
His eyes were lower than normal, and he didn’t smoke, nor had we fucked.
Practice must have really done a number on him, and I hated to add to what he was going through.
It pulled at my heart a little that he looked so defeated.
He was starting the new season as the returning MVP, and I know the pressure had to be overwhelming.
But I had already tried to be his peace, and he didn’t want that.
Now, I was forced to become his problem.
“My things are upstairs. You can call me when you’re in a better mood.” I said, grabbing my cell and keys.
“Nah, take your stuff too. We need some time away from each other.” He still hadn’t changed the calm tone of his voice, but that didn’t mean that his words offended me any less.
“Fuck you, Rocko.” I snapped, went up the stairs, and grabbed my things.
That was the catch-22 about Leah Blanco. I may do some strange things to get what I want, but I’ve never begged a soul for anything. If he said that he wanted me out of his space, I would leave. It would just be hell to pay once I was gone.
And trust me, the hell I raised was quite expensive. Like my grandmother always said, it’s cheaper to keep her.
Inside his room, I packed my things. I accidentally knocked down his cologne collection and jewelry box.
My hands were so full that I couldn’t even see how much jewelry I stepped on as I went to put my things in my bag.
All I could hear were the sounds of VVS, bust downs and glass crunching underneath my sandals.
Different notes of cologne filled the air, mixing into one toxic smell that gave me an instant headache.
He came into the room after hearing the crash and wrapped his arms around me.
“All this cause I told you we need space? This is exactly why you gotta go.”
I pushed away from his grasp, dropped my things into my bag, and made a grand exit.
Had he not asked me to take my things, I would have felt like he just needed time to cool off. But his insistence that I grab my clothing meant he was trying to tell me we’re done. That was his first mistake.
He followed me down the stairs like he wanted to make sure I didn’t destroy anything else from his home.
“I don’t need an escort.” I snarled, using the back of my phone to crack the glass of one of the paintings on his wall.
“Man, chill.” He said as he grilled me. I knew he was losing his cool. He clenched his jaw so hard it looked like he might break it.
I opened the door, swinging it so hard I hoped the doorknob would go through the back wall. Then I turned toward him and gave him one final warning.
“Rock, if I haven’t promised you anything else, I promise you that you will regret the day that you played with my feelings.”
I could see his eyes change, but I left the same way that I came.
I typed in the nearest hotel so I could stay there.
It was still relatively early. I could have driven home.
But I didn’t want to. I knew that if Daya checked my location in the middle of the night and it said I was home after I had just told her how happy I was, she would probably leave her shift to make sure I was okay.
I would go to a hotel for now; I would keep it cute, then go home tomorrow after I stopped by his house and asked if he had enough space.
But this wasn’t the last time that he would hear from me.
Space was one thing and getting rid of me was another. Ricardo Sanders was about to learn the difference.