5. Legacy
CHAPTER 5
LEGACY
` T he next morning, I dropped Zara and Eden off at school and took Riley to daycare. After that, I headed straight to my first NA meeting. I needed the support after the weekend I’d had. Eden had been trying my patience. His distance was like a nagging bully, determined not to let me forget past mistakes I could never outshine no matter the good I did. And the visions of Bless with some nigga in that dress was driving me insane. The urge to numb the pain was so powerful that I could taste the perc on my tongue.
As I drove through the city, Ekon caught me up on updates on the Houston branch.
“I had to fire two security guards over the weekend.” Ekon grunted with frustration.
“What happened?”
“Got complaints they were being overly flirtatious with female guests and drinking on the job,” Ekon explained.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “How the hell did niggas like that even get hired?”
“They were favorably recommended and had great resumes,” Ekon assured me. “Guess they played the part well in the interviews.”
“We need to tighten up our hiring process. We can’t have guys like that representing us.”
“Already on it. I’m going through their references again and putting stricter protocols in place.”
“Good. We can’t afford to have niggas out here making us look bad.”
“Facts. I got you.”
Ekon caught me up on a few other administrative things before we ended the call.
I sighed with relief as I pulled up to the hall where the NA meeting was being held. Since I was early, I took my phone from the cup holder and started to scroll Instagram to pass the time. Most of my followers were local clubs, rappers, athletes, and Instagram models because they made up my main clientele. Since the move back to Chicago, I had been intent on following as many Chicago-based potential clients as I could.
As I scrolled through my timeline, my eyes narrowed to slits, fixating on the image of Bless in that royal blue dress from the day before. A tsunami of anger rushed through me, tightening my chest until it felt like I couldn't breathe. The promotional video of the club's sing-along day party played, but they had overlaid it with their own instrumental, drowning out Bless' voice as she sung into the mic. Still, I didn't need to hear her singing to know the sound of those off-key notes. I'd endured them for years.
My chest filled with rage, each breath feeling like a struggle as I watched some dread-headed nigga kissing her neck. She grinned as if she were the happiest she'd ever been, and the sight fueled my anger to an intolerable level.
In a rush, I locked my phone and tossed it onto the passenger’s seat. I gripped the steering wheel so tight that my veins bulged against my dark skin. Nausea churned in my stomach, causing me to lean over and press my forehead against the steering wheel.
“Fuck,” I groaned, hearing the hurt and defeat in my voice. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Desperate to cling to my sobriety, I stepped out of my truck and strolled towards the hall, craving the distraction of people and conversation to ward off the temptation to numb my disappointment. As I entered the hall, a woman sitting on a bench outside of the room with a “NA Meeting” sign caught my eye. She was striking. Her skin was like smooth chocolate, and long, blonde tresses cascaded down to her waist. Even in her seated position, her curves spilled from the V-neck of her top and dramatically spilled from below her waist, drawing my attention irresistibly.
The last ten years of my life had humbled me. I knew that inwardly, I was far from a perfect man. But I also knew that physically, I was unmatched, consistently drawing the attention and desires of women in leagues that many men paid for. So, when our eyes met, I could see the unmistakable look of desire in hers. She wanted me immediately.
“Hi.” She perked up and arched her back, causing her perky breasts to be even more prominently displayed. “You’re here for the NA meeting?”
I nodded, awkwardly standing in front of her and the door of the meeting. The bench looked comfortable, but I wasn’t in the mood for conversation. “Yeah.”
Her long, faux lashes batted flirtatiously as a lewd expression graced her pretty face. “I haven’t seen you here before. You must be new.”
“I am.”
“I’m Chantel.”
I responded with a quick nod. “Legacy.”
She smiled inquisitively to that. She took me in like a sexy vulture. “You’re very handsome.”
Admittedly, her boldness made my jaws tighten. She managed to make a smile surface. “Damn, you get right to the point.”
“I have to. Closed mouths don’t get fed.” Her bedroom eyes scanned my body from head to toe, lingering on the imprint in my gray sweatpants before sizing up my kicks. Then she lifted her satisfied gaze back up to me. “You should take my number.”
“Respectfully, I have to decline,” I said before walking towards the meeting’s double doors. “I’m not here for that.”
Even her pout was kissable. “That’s too bad, baby.”
I had to get away from shorty. She was sexy and obviously willing. But I made it a practice to keep NA a drama-free, safe space for me. So, I entered the large room. Only a circle of about ten chairs occupied the space, and a buffet table filled with snacks, coffee and juice. An older woman stood before it, organizing the snacks until I stole her attention.
Her smile was warm and inviting as she spoke. “Hi, you must be Legacy. That’s the only new name that registered for today, and I’ve never seen you before.”
She offered me her hand for a friendly shake as she approached. My large hand swallowed hers as I shook it. “Yes, ma’am, I’m Legacy.”
She gave me a stern but playful glare. “You better not call me ma’am . My name is Ms. Paula. I’m the group secretary. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
Her grin touched her ears. “Welcome to NA.”
As the NA meeting neared its end, I found myself drawn to the confidence and charisma that Chantel had exuded during the last hour with every word she spit.
"I've been hearing some inspiring stories from our members today," Ms. Paula said, addressing the group with a pleased smile. "Let's take a moment to reflect on our progress and the challenges we've overcome."
Chantel leaned forward. Her eyes gleamed as they anchored on me. She had been doing that a lot during the meeting, demanding my attention and eye fucking me. "I've come a long way since I walked through those doors,” she spoke up. She slowly pulled her eyes off of me with a seductive smirk and gave her sweet orbs to the rest of the group. “Things have been far from perfect. I battle triggers every day. But the positive impact that sobriety has had on my life makes battling those triggers so worth it. It’s scary as hell, but I'm not about to let anything hold me back now, especially not fear.”
Ms. Paula replied with an impressed smirk as others around us nodded with pride and congratulatory smiles.
"Chantel, I noticed you've been quite vocal today,” Ms. Paula replied.
“Isn’t she always?” a woman, whose name I’d forgotten, mumbled with a teasing smile that she gave Chantel.
Chantel playfully smirked in response. “I’m just so happy and excited about my future now. Every day is a new opportunity to rewrite my story, and I'm determined to make it a bestseller. So yeah, you could say I've been feeling pretty vocal about my progress lately. I finally feel like I have control of my sobriety and that I am one step closer to reclaiming my life.”
The determination in her voice made my dick hard with admiration.
Ms. Paula nodded, still wearing her impressed smirk. "That's great, Chantel. What do you think has been the biggest challenge for you so far?"
Chantel leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms confidently. She crossed her legs too, causing a meaty piece of ass to hang off of the side of the folding chair. "Honestly, it's been facing my demons head-on and refusing to let them control me anymore.”
Murmurs of agreement rippled throughout the room.
Ms. Paula smiled encouragingly. "It sounds like you're making great strides. Do you have any advice for others who might be struggling with similar challenges?"
Chantel's grin widened. The passion in her eyes was intense, making me curious of how passionate she could be in other rooms. "My advice would be to never underestimate the power of support and community.” With an unwavering gaze, she ensnared me, holding my attention captive with those gentle eyes. “Surround yourself with people who uplift you and encourage you to be the best version of yourself. And most importantly, never give up hope. Recovery is possible no matter how challenging it may seem."
With a pleased sigh, Ms. Paula's eyes settled on me, piercing through my quiet facade. I’d kept mostly quiet since my introduction.
“Legacy, have you felt that moving to a new city has had an impact on your sobriety?”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as I wrestled with the truth. I had only been home for three days and I was already fighting demons. Despite my usual confidence, I wasn’t in the mood for chit-chat. But thankfully, I had learned that one way to fight demons was to talk about them with others who had the same demons in common.
"It's a challenge," I admitted. "Starting fresh means rebuilding my support system from scratch. But I've navigated tougher waters. I'll find my way one step at a time."
Ms. Paula nodded with an expression of understanding and encouragement. "That is exactly right, Legacy. Remember, you're not alone on this journey. We're all here to support each other. Let's continue to lean on one another as we navigate these challenges together." She gave the rest of the room a warm smile. “Thank you all for sharing today. Remember to take what you've learned here and apply it to your daily lives..."
As Ms. Paula wrapped up the meeting, I made a conscious effort to avoid Chantel's gaze. My thoughts about her were out of place in this environment, definitely fueled by my frustrations with Bless. This wasn’t the setting for such distractions. So, I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, eager to exit and put some distance between us.
Once the meeting was officially over, I hurried out, my mind clouded with filthy thoughts that I knew I couldn’t confront. I wanted to take my frustrations out on Chantel. I didn’t need to know anything about her to read that look in her eyes. But I didn’t want to shit where I ate.
I weaved through the crowd of people. I kept my head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone who might try to start a conversation. I hurriedly strolled past those mingling, making small talk, and bee-lining for the snack table.
But the sound of Chantel's voice trailed closely behind me as she spoke with someone. I didn’t want to run into her outside, forced to have a conversation with her. So, as I reached the hallway, I spotted the bathroom door and headed for it. I pushed through the door and rushed to shut it behind me. But before I could latch it shut, I felt resistance from the other side. Caught off guard, I stepped back as Chantel unexpectedly entered, swiftly closing and locking the door behind her wearing a devilish, lewd smile.
I should have made her get out, but every fiber of my being yearned for her touch, craving the passion that would numb my chaotic emotions. So, I reached out, seizing her face and pulling her close to me.
As our lips met, fiery passion ignited that consumed us both. She responded eagerly, her breath mingling with mine in urgent pants as our tongues danced in a fervent embrace. With every touch, every caress, the intensity between us grew, building to an overwhelming crescendo of longing.
Her nails dug into my skin, deliciously painful evidence of her need. She traced patterns over my body, igniting a trail of sensation in her wake. With primal hunger driving us, I released her face, my hands finding her tiny waist and pulling her closer to me, our bodies pressed together in desperation.
I guided her towards the sink with hurried movements fueled by savage thirst. I spun her around, the force causing her to catch her balance against the sink. Her hands gripped the porcelain edge tightly. Our eyes met in the mirror. A silent exchange of raw desire and intense, unspoken longing passed between us.
As I tore at the buttons of her skinny jeans, our gazes remained locked, filled with intensity that crackled with need and desire. There was animalistic energy between us, hunger that burned hot, driving me to desperately reach into my pocket, praying that there was a condom in my wallet.
I was so happy to find one that my dick got harder. I threw the wallet to the floor and spread her legs apart with my knee. Then I decided against that. “Unt uh. Put this leg up.” I tapped her right leg, and she placed that knee onto the sink.
I salivated at the pink silk pulsating for me. I leaned forward, wrapping my large grip around her neck from the front, forcing her eyes up into the mirror. I stared at her as I guided my dick towards her sleek, dripping center and dove in. I wasn’t careful or gentle. I didn’t brace her for my size. I watched her expression convulse as I forced her to take all of me in suddenly. Her eyes popped open wider and her pretty mouth fell open. I gripped her waist, and threw all of that ass back on my big dick, making her take it.
“Shit!” she panted softly. “Fuck. Oh my God.”
Her hand darted back between my hips and her ass. She pressed it against me, trying to slow the pace of my strokes.
“Unt uh,” I said, smacking her hand away. “This what you came in here for, right?”
“Mm humph…” She bit her lip, nodding her head energetically. Her eagerness made my dick harden with so much desire that it hurt.
“You wanted this dick, right?”
“ Yesss …” She panted. “Yes. Oh, God , yes.”
“Then take it.”
She nodded even more hungrily this time. Her willing submission encouraged me to close the grip on her throat even tighter. Her eyes rolled to the ceiling but desperately found mine through the mirror again. She watched me, locking her orgasmic gaze on me as she leaked all over my dick.
“Gawd damn!” I grunted, lost in her gaze and the warm sensation of her melting all over me.
She had the audacity to start throwing that ass back on me as she came. She bit down on her bottom lip to muffle her whimpers and serenades of pleasure.
“Mumph,” I groaned, as her pussy massaged my dick. My body stiffened, strokes ceased, allowing her to fuck me. “Yeah, give me that motherfucka.”
Feeling myself about to explode, I let her neck go. She began to gasp for breath she willingly had been allowing me to take. I held on to her waist, found the deepest, most sacred corner of her center and pounded it until I leaked into the rubber.
“ Arrrrgh !”
“ Sshhhh !” she insisted frantically.
Holding onto the top of the condom, I pulled out of her. I then fell against her, putting all of my weight on her ass as I exploded inside of it with a grunt.
The bathroom was then silent. The only sound that could be heard was our joined attempt to catch our breaths and the faint murmurs of conversation on the other side of the bathroom door further down the hall.
Panting, Chantel pulled her pants up with weak arms and eyes that told of the hard beating she had just received. “You hungry?”
My head tilted as my eyes lowered curiously. Chantel’s ease and confidence was interesting. I shook my head shamefully, knowing that I shouldn’t be going down this road. But this journey felt good, made me feel numb to the bullshit. “I can eat.”
Chantel and I grabbed some food and drinks at Bar Louie. It was recommended that addicts avoid anything that might alter our reality while sober. But liquor had never been my weakness, so I still drank.
As we sat at the bar in Bar Louie, Chantel began to open up about her past. Her story was painful and full of struggle, but her resilience kept my attention.
"I was in a car accident when I was a teenager," she explained. "I hurt my back and had to undergo a few surgeries. I was prescribed Narcos for the pain. Before I knew it, I was hooked."
I leaned in, intently watching as she vividly painted a picture of her struggle. I listened with empathy and fascination. Despite hearing similar stories countless times in NA, it was always comforting to know others had made the same mistakes I had.
"I was able to hide it from my parents for a long time. I came from a good family, a two-parent household that worked a lot," she confessed. "We lived in Hessville, Indiana. So, I was surrounded by white kids who had easy access to opioids, which made them so easy to get."
I chuckled, nodding with understanding.
"I started partying, failing classes, and pushing everyone who cared about me away," she continued. "Eventually, my parents found out. They tried everything to help me. They spent so much money on rehab facilities. But I couldn’t kick the habit. I was trapped in a cycle I couldn't escape."
“I feel that.”
Though she had gone through the same thing, her head tilted as her eyes washed over with sympathy. “How did you become addicted to pain killers?”
I cringed. Although I had told this story in NA meetings and to Ekon, I had never divulged such sensitive and private information to a woman I had been intimate with. My deepest darkest secrets were sacred, something that I saved for Bless only.
However, Chantel had a way of giving me comfort with her eyes. It was perhaps the fact that we had gotten the intimacy out of the way after she already knew about my addiction.
“My sister,” I forced out. “She was killed at her twenty-first birthday party.”
Her eyes wrinkled with sadness and empathy. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“My mother blamed me.” Chantel inhaled sharply as I went on. “I was in the streets while my sister was a college student. She was a good girl and wouldn't have been in that environment had I not put her in it. She was shot in the midst of one of my homies being killed. So, I blamed myself too. I took it hard, real hard. I was desperate to numb the pain. One of my homeboys gave me a pill the day of her funeral, He told me that it would make me feel better. And it did. I felt nothing. I craved that feeling every second of every day. I kept feeding it to the point that I lost everything—my woman, my kids, and my hustle. I lost it all.”
“When did you get clean?”
“I finally started getting clean five years ago. I moved to Houston when my girlfriend left me and refused to let me see my kids. That pushed me to sober up. But I couldn’t do it in Chicago. There were too many triggers here.”
“Are those triggers still here?”
I scoffed with a cynical chuckle. “Hell yeah. But I’m stronger now. Now, I can deal with all that shit in other ways.”
Our gazes locked with knowing passion exploding between us. Chantel swallowed hard, blushing as she gave her attention to the virgin daiquiri in front of her.