Body Language

Chapter 1

NYAKO MOYINOLUWA BELLACORTE – SMELLS LIKE A FISH

TWO YEARS EARLIER

ME: I’m tired of texting, emailing, and weekly phone calls. When can I see you?

JOJO: In time. Be patient, baby. It’ll all come in time.

ME: Feels like that won’t ever come. It’s been a year.

JOJO: A year spent building our bond and loving each other.

ME: I want more. I need more, JoJo. You’re sleeping on me, and I’m tired of waiting.

JOJO: Baby, I know that you are, but like I said, I’ve got some things to work through.

ME: I fly all around the world, drive expensive cars, spend millions on shopping, live a lavish lifestyle in luxurious hotels and condos, yet, I can’t have the simplest thing.

A kiss. A hug. Looking into my baby’s eyes and being held by you when times are hard.

I’m a woman, Jo. I have physical needs. My body has needs that cannot be satisfied with toys and my hand.

When I finish using toys and my hands, I’m still hungry for more.

There’s a deeper need that only a man can fix.

JOJO: Nya, baby, you know that’s a conundrum. How hard can times be with you living like that?

ME: Very hard, but you’re ignoring the point.

I. Have. Physical. Needs. I want sex. My friends call me a fool.

How can I be multimillionaire, yet, I crave something as simple as a hug and a kiss from my man, but I can’t get it?

You’re gonna miss your opportunity for a lifetime of love with someone great, if you keep playing with me.

JOJO: And I’ve told you to quit listening to your friends. They’re just jealous, baby.

ME: Of what, Jo? A relationship I have never consummated? A boyfriend I have never seen? What are they jealous of, Jo?

ME: Jo? Jo, are you there?

Iblew out a harsh breath, and I tossed the phone onto the bed beside me. Frustrated, I dropped my head into my palms.

“Come on. It’s time.”

I peered through my fingers at my sister, Aoko, who stood with her hands on her hips. She was determined to make me see this through. I was a bundle of nerves, and I thought this was what I wanted, until this conversation.

“What if I’m not ready though?”

“You’re ready, Nya. He’s not ready, and he hasn’t been for a long time.

He won’t be ready tomorrow, the next day, or the next week.

Hell, for all we know, he won’t be ready next year either.

How long can you allow your life to hang in the balance like this?

You are a gorgeous, freaking top model with your own handbag, shoe, and cosmetics lines.

I swear, I don’t even know how you got into this situation in the first place.

Yet here you are, dating . . . Hell, you’re not even dating him, because you two have never gone anywhere together.

You’re calling this man your boyfriend, and you have never seen him before. ”

“I’ve seen him,” I argued and defensively crossed my arms over my breasts.

“Yeah, and we better pray that the pictures he’s been sending you are actually him and not some stranger. It’s Valentine’s Day, and you deserve answers, love, and happiness,” Aoko countered.

I stood as Aoko tugged my arm. “Let’s go. Tangie and I did not travel all this way for nothing. You’re going to get in this car with us and meet this man. We’re putting this shit to rest one final time. He’s starting to make me think he’s married or something.”

“Where’s Tangie?”

“Down in the car waiting for us. We were supposed to be out there ten minutes ago.”

I sighed and picked up my Hermès saddlebag, phone, and keys and followed my sister out of our penthouse suite. I stared at the screen of my phone disappointed that he had not texted back yet. I tugged my Cartier sunglasses on as we stepped onto the elevator and adjusted my hat over my ponytail.

Staring down at the screen of my phone, I stood behind my sister, who was only three inches shorter than me, but with the heels she had on today, we were the same height. I wore flats.

ME: Jo, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just love you so much, and I want more. I want to be in your bed. I want you to make love to me, and I want you to stare into my eyes when you say that you love me.

JOJO: I want those same things, baby. I do. It’s not easy putting you on hold, but it’s just for a time.

ME: I just don’t want to feel so cold and impersonal talking on a phone via text most of the time. Can we at least speak more? Like maybe you could call me three times a week instead of one, and maybe we could try LiveTiming.

JOJO: Nya, there is something I have to tell you. Not right now. I’ll tell you over the phone. Just give me just a few days. I’ll see what I can work out. I love you, baby. I don’t want to lose your love. Just be patient with me.

ME: I would never take my love away from you, Jo.

Fear burned through me like a brightly consuming wildfire. What could he possibly have to tell me that might make me stop loving him? Was my sister right, and he was married?

“Are you ready?” Aoko asked, looking over her shoulder at me as we stepped off the elevator.

I sighed dully and muttered, “Not really.”

“Get over it and move your ass.”

We stepped out of the hotel and into the bright afternoon sunshine.

It was a beautiful day outside in Louisville, Kentucky.

I wondered if he was worried that I might laugh at his country ways.

I had heard his voice, and it was smooth and deep, like a well-steeped chamomile tea.

It did have a southern twang to it, but I liked to consider that the lemon in his tea.

Before I started my modeling career, I, too, had a southern twang.

“Ladies, are we ready for some fun?” my best friend, Tangie, asked when I dropped into the front passenger seat of the convertible Mercedes rental. Aoko sat in the back.

“Hell yeah!” she yelled out as Tangie floored the gas pedal.

No one should let her drive, ever. She was the worst driver in my opinion. She rode people’s asses, cut them off, went at least twenty miles over the speed limit, and had road rage and language that would put a trucker to shame.

Tangie fiddled with the system for a couple of minutes, while I stared out the window at the passing scenery. They settled on Chris Perry and sang to the top of their lungs. Four songs in, they turned it down as we pulled down a long dirt road.

I pressed my lips together. I wasn’t a snob. I really wasn’t, but I hadn’t expected him to live in a trailer park. Maybe he had been ashamed of where he came from, and that was why he hadn’t wanted to meet in person. If that had been the issue, I wish he would have told me.

There was no amount of money I wouldn’t be willing to spend on him to make sure that he had nice living accommodations and a safe place to live. Tangie glanced at me as she navigated down the rocky road.

My hands trembled as I stared at the phone where we had last texted.

JOJO: I wouldn’t survive without your love. Your messages every day give me a reason to go on.

“Uhm . . . What did you say that he did for a living again?” Aoko asked.

“He’s a managing director of a frozen goods distribution company.”

“Uhm, . . . sweetie, I think that company is ‘Ice So Good,’” Tangie declared, pointing at the ice cream truck on the side of the trailer.

“Yep, and that managing director isn’t anything more than an ice cream man,” Aoko added.

My heart thudded wildly in my chest, and I was embarrassed. Not just for myself, but also for him. Why did he have to lie to me? I didn’t want to humiliate him this way.

“Maybe coming out here wasn’t a good idea, girls.”

“Yes, it was, Sis. You’ve been in a relationship with this man for a year now. He owes you some answers,” Aoko argued.

“Yeah—and we’re not leaving until we get them,” Tangie chimed in. She turned off the ignition and was the first to hop out of the car.

I finally got out with leaden feet, trying to catch up to her and my sister, but they had already rung the doorbell by the time I climbed the tiny steps.

“This is bad. So very bad,” I mumbled, crossing my arms over my chest and tucking my hands in my pits.

The door opened to reveal an older, middle-aged woman in a muumuu, hair curlers, and a cigarette hanging from the corner of her lips. A little kid of about seven or eight peered from behind her.

“Yeah?”

“I’m here to see JoJo.” I spoke up, surprised that I could speak.

The woman frowned. “What you want with JoJo?” she asked at the same time that I heard a man shout, “JoJo! You’ve got company.”

“I uhm—”

“Never mind. Come on in,” the woman invited, pushing the door open.

I stepped inside as the smoke from the cigarette blew in my face. My sister and best friend followed behind me, with Tangie’s dramatic ass coughing and waving a hand in front of her face.

“Y’all want something to eat or drink?” the woman offered.

“No, thank you,” we all muttered at once.

“Chile, you sure? You sure could use some meat on your bones,” she stated to me, as she pushed me in my back with one meaty hand, while pointing at an orange couch with the other. She ushered me toward it and then did the same with my sister and best friend who held back.

“JoJo, bring yer ass out here!” the man, who I finally spotted, shouted again.

He sat in a recliner with a white button-down shirt that had a yellowish tint and red stains on it like spaghetti sauce. He wore a pair of frayed jeans and threadbare socks.

“Someone called me?” I heard the voice, but it didn’t sound like JoJo, so I was confused.

“Yeah. These here gals are here to see you.”

JoJo stepped out of the shadows of the hallway and froze at the same time that I looked up and froze. My tongue was thick in my throat, and my mouth felt like someone stuffed it with a thousand cotton balls. My head banged, my temple throbbed, and my heart splintered into a million pieces.

“JoJo?” Aoko spoke.

“Yeah,” the girl stated shyly, licking her chapped lips.

“Aw, hell naw!” Tangie shouted, jumping up from her seat.

“You’re JoJo?” I asked in disbelief, because there was no way this was my reality.

She nodded shyly and grinned. JoJo was not the tall, dark-skinned man with dimples, and loose, curly hair I had fallen in love with. JoJo was not the man I had been talking to for the last year. There were no muscles and hairy bowlegs.

There was just this girl of twenty-two or three, who was a little over five feet, with ginger-colored skin that looked really good and clear. Her hair was braided into a ponytail, and she wore thick glasses and braces.

“You can’t be JoJo,” I whispered.

“I’m her.”

“Who was the man in the picture?” I whispered, still in shock.

“The bank manager, Floyd Evans. He’s married with kids. I knew he wouldn’t be online on a dating site, so there was little chance he would find out.”

“But why?”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was all a lie.”

“Not my feelings . . . or the things we have in common.”

I shook my head, and a teardrop fell.

“What’s going on here?” the man demanded.

“Daddy, wait.” The girl looked at me as I moved toward the door. “Can we take this outside?”

I struggled to keep the tears at bay. Pulling my fingers through my long hair, I replied, “No, we cannot. Don’t contact me.”

I ran out of the trailer and to the car without stopping. Aoko and Tangie were with me and drove me away from that place, with pieces of my heart trailing behind us.