Chapter 14 #2
Rio licked his lips. “Listen, I know it’s been a minute ‘cause a nigga body ain't been right but I want your pussy so bad, baby.”
“You can have it, Rio. I’m over here ready to burst just from one look at you.”
He licked his lips, inciting a pulsation to grace her center.
Cali’s attraction to Rio had grown so wild that hearing his voice could make her cum.
It almost seemed like she had been wearing eyes that didn’t belong to her.
How could she not see the beauty in Rio up until now?
Why did it take so long for Cali to fall into a love pit for her husband?
She was so unworthy of him but made a vow to make things right, even if Rio wasn’t aware of her betrayal.
“I got you, baby. I promise.”
“Can we talk about my hours?” Ivory asked.
Irish rolled her eyes, not in the mood for her sister’s demands.
The summer had approached, and she was back in St. Parklynn full time.
Usually, when Ivory came home from school, she worked for Irish’s online store.
She shipped orders, answered emails, and made sure inventory arrived.
She was always a big help because Irish then had time to design more pieces for her collections.
“What, Ivory? And don't say nothing crazy.”
“Okay, so, I was thinking Monday through Friday ten to two.”
Irish shook her head right away. “No, ten to four. Working four hours a day is crazy.”
“Come on, sis,” she whined. “I’m trying to enjoy my summer too. I don't want to be stuck working all summer.”
“Girl, it’s only six hours a day. Your lil’ lazy ass is really trying it.”
“Okay, hear me out.” Ivory lifted her hand to silence Irish’s rant. “How about I do ten to two but then come in on Saturdays and work ten to three? That way I can make up for the hours from the week.”
Irish loathed being a big sister because that meant she always folded even when she tried her best to be stern. Ivory was her baby. She had literally raised her as her own so there was a sweet spot reserved just for her.
“Please, sis.” She pressed her palms together, batting her lash extensions.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Yes!” Ivory clapped. “You really are the best big sister ever.”
“Girl, I said I’ll think about it. So, don't get excited. And what plans do you have for the summer because I don't want you getting in trouble, Ivory?”
Ivory dumped the box of product into another one while she pursed her lips.
“I never get into trouble.”
“Yeah, right,” Irish retorted with doubt. “Your ass was just pregnant.”
“Yeah, but I got an abortion. Trust me, I won’t get caught slippin’ again, sis. I have to tell you, though, that the guy does live here. As long as I don't run into him, then I’m good.”
Irish chuckled. “What’ll happen if you run into him?”
Ivory stood up straight and exhaled. “I have to admit, I’m kinda weak for this one. That’s why I’ve distanced myself.”
Irish knew the feeling. Noble had quickly become her drug of choice. She wanted him every hour of the day if she could.
“Yeah, well, make sure you steer clear. I’m not paying all this money for college just for you to turn into a nigga’s baby mama. You got shit to do, little sister.”
“I know.” Ivory smiled. “Besides, don't act like my scholarship didn’t kick in and help.”
“You still picked the most expensive university in Miami.”
Ivory chuckled before shaking her head. “You know, Irish… I really, really appreciate you.”
“I know.”
“No, seriously, life would’ve been so much worse if I didn’t have you and Jovanis. Imagine that. Me being with Daisy, who did nothing but grieve her life away. You really saved my life.”
Irish cleared her throat, feeling so much emotion swarm her like bees.
Ivory showed appreciation to her, but it was never to this magnitude.
They never went into detail about their upbringing or their mother.
Their way of coping was to move on and never look back.
Irish wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a detrimental one.
“Sis, I don't feel like ruining my lashes. Please don't.” Irish laughed.
Ivory smirked. “I just felt the need to tell you that. You’ve survived so much, and I really strive to be just like you when I get your age.
I hope to meet the love of my life young just like you.
Jovanis really loves you. I appreciate how he makes sure you have everything you need. You and Jovanis are goals.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Yes, you are. I've never seen you two argue or fight. There’s mutual respect you two have. When he looks at you, I see love. You really found a good husband, sis.”
What Ivory had described was what Irish felt for Noble not Jovanis. She had no clue that there was a limitation on the love she and him shared. It was platonic with a great amount of respect. The romantic aspect was absent. There had never been any butterflies or feelings that bloomed.
On the other hand, what Irish possessed with Noble was sacred.
He had come in her life and gave her a new meaning.
Love wasn’t just a word; it was an action with him.
The last three months had been so blissful that Irish wished she had a remote control just so she could hit pause.
She wanted to stay in the moment, basking in his presence and feeling every inch of what she had been chasing her entire life.
“I appreciate your kind words, Ivory, but you know you don't have to say all this to get that new schedule.”
Ivory laughed. “I am not trying to butter you up.”
“Yeah, okay.” She twisted her lips in doubt. “You swear you're slick but you're not.”
“Girl, bye.” Ivory flicked her hand.
“I’m about to walk down to the coffee shop. Do you want something?”
“No, I’m okay. I still have my frappé.”
Irish nodded, exiting the small storage facility.
The Florida sun seared into her skin as she walked through the parking lot.
She loved that her storage was in this area of the city.
The art district was where people could see the beauty of St. Parklynn.
The graffiti-themed buildings offered an urban feel along with the parks and Black History Museum.
Irish walked toward the coffee shop when she spotted the stoplight booth near the corner. Ever since Clarice shared her experience, Irish was curious about it.
“Her ass was probably lying, acting like she got advice.”
As she drew near to it, her curiosity increased.
She had some things to get off her chest, but she had never confided in a stranger.
Her woes were always spilled on Jovanis’ lap.
He was her GPS for all of her issues. Irish navigated through her childhood and bouts of depression by placing her issues on his shoulders.
“No, I’m good.” She shook her head, continuing to the shop.
Once she arrived, she ordered an iced latte then made her trek back toward her storage facility. Again, she approached the booth, drawing even more interest.
“Go on.”
Irish snapped her head to the left, noticing an older woman sitting on the ground. Her clothes were disheveled along with her tattered hair. On the side of her was a cup from the coffee shop with ice chips in it.
“You know you wanna go inside.” She beamed.
“Oh, no, I’m good. I was just wondering what it was,” Irish lied.
“It’s a booth to talk to people. I do it all the time. You talk, they listen and if you want, they can give advice. Go on and check it out.”
Irish glanced at the booth before looking back at the woman.
“Go ahead, honey. There’s nothing to be scared of. Just pick up the phone and start talking.”
Irish had no clue why her feet headed to the booth without her permission.
The woman made it seem easy, and a part of Irish wanted to experience it for herself.
With caution, Irish opened the door, surprised by the cool rush of air that escaped it.
There was a seat and across from it was a telephone.
Irish stepped inside, placed her drink on the bench, then picked up the phone.
“H-hello?” she stammered.
“Hello.”
The voice on the other end was pleasant. Like a seventy-degree day with no clouds in the sky. It was a woman’s tone that had a touch of maternal comfort. Irish cleared her throat, searching for what to say next.
“How are you?” the woman asked.
“Uh, I’m trying to figure that out now.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I’ve never done anything like this. You know, talk to a complete stranger inside a telephone booth.”
Irish held the phone tightly, looking around trying to make sense of what she was doing.
“It’s okay, dear. I know this may be a bit different for you but you're in charge. You only tell what you're comfortable telling me. I won’t pry any information out of you. I’m here to listen and offer feedback if that’s what you want.”
“So, you can’t see me?”
“No, I can’t. I don't even need to know your name. This booth was placed here in honor of Solana Tolbert. She was the woman who drowned in the ocean six years ago. Because of the nature of her death and her history with depression, the city wanted to ensure that the residents had an outlet. You know, someone to talk to.”
“I understand.”
“Are you comfortable?”
“Honestly, no.” Irish chuckled nervously. “I still can’t believe I’m sitting here.”
“In order for us to have a conversation, I do want you to be comfortable. I’m not here to hurt you or make you feel uneasy. We’re just here to have girl talk.”
Irish grinned. There was something about this woman’s voice that brought her great comfort. Maybe it was that part of Irish that craved the nurturing she had never received in her upbringing.
“Okay, okay.” She took a few deep breaths before promising, “I’m good now.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am.”
“Okay, good. Would you like to give me your name, or do you prefer to remain anonymous?”
“My name is Irish.”
“Irish, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Carrie.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Carrie.”