Authors: Electa Rome Parks
True Confessions (6 page)
“And you act like you’re jealous of our mother-daughter relationship.”
“Why would I be?”
“Because you can’t have me one hundred percent.”
“Kennedy, you’re wrong. I already do.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Tell me I’m wrong then.”
Silence.
“I thought so.”
“I need to go now,” I stuttered.
“Anyway, we both know that you aren’t Little Miss Innocent. Don’t we? I think I’m one of the few people who has seen the real Kennedy Logan. The one you keep buried deep inside yourself. I’ve seen her come out and play and enjoy every inch.”
“I have to go.”
“What? Did I hit a nerve? The things I could tell Mommy Dearest.”
“No, because I haven’t done anything you didn’t ask me to do. I did it all for love. For you.”
“I bet you’re creaming in your panties right now just thinking about us together. Me fucking you from behind.”
“Drake, you are sick and you have nothing on me.”
“Well, maybe if Mommy Dearest knew all the perverted acts her little princess has performed for me and on me, she’d think otherwise of your innocence.”
“You make me sick. I can’t stand your ass.”
He continued, “Maybe if she knew how you can suck dick better than a pro.”
Nothing but my cries were heard now; ones I didn’t even recognize as my own. Deep, heart-wrenching sobs.
“Maybe if Mommy Dearest knew how much you love me to eat you out. You’d lie there for hours with your legs spread, if I let you. You love that shit.”
Sobs. Loud cries.
“Or what about how I can get you to take it in the ass? Can’t get many women to do that. Especially not a black woman.”
“Why are you doing this to me? I haven’t done anything to you but love you.”
“And why are you crying? I told you, Kennedy, I was going to make you stronger; you’re weak. Cry babies can’t hang with the big boys. Get a backbone.”
“Well, I won’t hang with you. Don’t call me again, Drake.”
“You don’t mean that, baby. You crave my touch. When can I see you again?”
“Never.”
“I don’t have to penetrate you. Just let me touch you. Like I used to.”
“Leave me alone, I cried out loudly.
“See what I mean, Kennedy? Hang up on me. Scream, do something other than cry. Every time we argue, you cry. Your mom, your exes, Taylor, everybody pampers you. You need to toughen up, girl.”
I didn’t respond.
“Kennedy? Kennedy? Answer me, dammit. You will talk to me sooner or later. I guarantee it.”
“I hate you. You hear me? I despise you. I regret the day I met you.”
I didn’t even attempt to hide my muffled cries from him.
“Is that why you did what you did?”
“I hate your lying ass so much,” I screamed between sobs. “Stop twisting your perverted actions.”
“I bet you’d do it again—for me. I go to sleep at night with images of that night flashing in my mind.”
“Sweetie? Who are you talking to? What’s wrong?” I heard Mother ask as she walked quickly up the hallway and into my bedroom to find me simply crying and holding the phone receiver away from my ear as if that would make Drake magically go away. Disappear.
“Hello? Hello? Who is this?” Mother asked.
“Hello, Mrs. Logan. How are you? I don’t know what I said that upset Kennedy so badly. You know how fragile she is.”
“Listen, Mr. Collins. I am not going to repeat this twice. I don’t know who you think you are messing with, but I’m not Kennedy. Don’t call over here upsetting my daughter again. Is that understood…What?”
I could hear Drake through the phone. “I said she can’t hide from me forever. Tell her that.”
“I’m ending this call in two seconds.”
“She can’t hide under your apron forever like she has milk on her tongue. Hand the phone back to—”
“One, two. Your two seconds are up.”
“Rise and shine, Kennedy. Rise and shine. Today is going to be a wonderful, beautiful day. Too gorgeous to sleep away like you did yesterday. Get up.”
“Mother. I’m still sleepy.”
“No, you aren’t. You just think you’re tired. Get up and get dressed, Kennedy,” she exclaimed, tossing my covers to the floor. “Get up. Now.”
I turned over so that I could look at her out of the corner of my eye. She was serious. Mother wasn’t playing around this morning.
“Okay. Give me five minutes, Mother,” I said, burying my head under the pillow.
“Five minutes is all you get, not a second longer. I’ll see you at the breakfast table,” she said, turning and walking out the door without another word or backward glance.
True to my word, a few minutes later I was seated at the breakfast table in my powder blue robe and gown. My hair was all over the place, and I didn’t even bother to brush my teeth or wash my face. I still had crust on my face next to my mouth. I felt the way I looked. I didn’t feel like doing anything, not even practicing good hygiene. If I had done what I usually do, and gotten cleaned up first, I would have been trying, once again, to please someone else.
Breakfast, which again consisted of scrambled eggs, bacon, and grits, smelled wonderful, but I didn’t have an appetite. All I desired was sleep because I knew inner peace wasn’t attainable. With sleep, I could forget for precious minutes.
After pouring freshly squeezed orange juice into our glasses, Mother fixed our plates and sat down in front of me. Then, out of the blue she started questioning me like a prosecuting attorney.
“Sweetie, what’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, not bothering to look up, and playing the role of clueless brilliantly.
“Sweetie, you know what and who I’m talking about.”
“Nothing. Nothing’s going on,” I said, glancing down again at my untouched plate. I couldn’t meet Mother’s eyes. I didn’t want her to see the pain inside that crippled me on a daily basis.
“No, quite a lot is going on and I’m not about to close my eyes and pretend any longer that it isn’t. Sooner or later, we need to discuss that, er, night.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I whispered, feeling panic set in. I wanted to flee to my bedroom and to the protection of my covers. Talking about that night brought back unpleasant and dark memories that reminded me of another dark night.
“And you don’t have to until you are ready. Sweetie, I care about you so much. Can’t you see that? I don’t want to see you in pain anymore because I can’t stand to see you suffering. When you hurt, I hurt. I feel your pain.”
“I’m not hurting.” That statement wasn’t a lie. All my hurt and pain had been pushed back into a safe spot. Right now, I felt nothing. I was numb. I was empty. Simply existing. That’s all I could muster the strength to do.
“I love you and know you like the back of my hand and I know when you are suffering. I have been there for every cut, scrape, and broken bone.”
“Mother, please, I don’t want to talk about this.”
“I’m sorry, but we need to discuss this.”
We stared at each other. I looked down first.
“I wanna know, what hold does Drake have on you? I thought you had broken it off with him.”
“I did. We did.”
“Why were you even talking with him the other night and crying your heart out?”
“Mother, just because we broke up doesn’t mean I can’t talk with the man ever again.”
“Well, you shouldn’t when he has you in hysterics. What did he say to you?”
“Nothing,” I said, pushing eggs around on my plate and taking a bite of my crispy bacon.
“Kennedy? I’m not stupid.”
“Nothing, Mother. Drake didn’t say anything.”
“Huh. It didn’t sound like that to me. I never did like that arrogant, self-centered piece of a man. There’s just something about him that I can’t quite put my finger on, but I do know I can’t stand his ass. I’m very perceptive and he’s evil. Plain evil I tell you.”
As I swallowed my grits and played some more with my eggs, I shrugged my shoulders and looked down at my almost full plate.
“Kennedy, I realize your daddy and I sheltered you when you were growing up. I know you haven’t experienced a lot of serious relationships, but the way Drake treats you is wrong. Dead wrong, sweetie. You deserve better.”
“Mother, I understand that. That’s why we are not together,” I stated calmly and matter-of-factly.
“Now, I realize you are sitting there acting like I’m the one who has lost my mind, but I also know how distraught you were the other night, and I didn’t like what I saw. Not one bit.”
“I was tired and I got overemotional. I let Drake’s comments about how much he misses me get to me.”
“Sweetie, it was more than that. After the, er, incident happened, you were calling out his name in your sleep, during the night at the hospital.”
“Was I?”
“Yes. You were.”
“Well, it didn’t mean anything. We were once very close. I loved him,” I said, staring at the far wall and praying that tears wouldn’t spill forth.
“Kennedy, look at me. I’m only going to ask you this once. Did Drake have anything, anything at all to do with your, er, this situation? The note you left that night was pretty vague.”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely, Mother.” Lying was becoming easier and easier.
“Promise me you won’t let that man upset you again. You don’t have to talk to him again. Ever. He’s not good for you. Not at all. Find yourself a nice, decent young man. There are plenty of good men in church.”
“I’m not looking for a man.”
“Well, promise me right now that you won’t speak with Drake again.”
“I won’t speak with him again,” I answered, realizing I was probably delivering an empty promise. However, for the moment, Mother looked pacified.
“Sweetie, you know what your daddy and I went through a few years ago, and I was devastated. But you cry, you scream, you throw stuff, say a few choice curse words, and then you get over it. You love yourself…and life goes on.”
“I know. I know all that.” Secretly, I thought,
sometimes it’s not that simple. Everybody is not that strong. You can’t love someone one day and the next day turn off all feelings. Life doesn’t work like that. Love doesn’t work like that. My love doesn’t, anyway.
“Okay, you’ve played with that food long enough. Kennedy, eat your breakfast before it gets cold. It probably already is. Do you want me to microwave it for you?” she asked.
“No. I’m fine, Mother.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m positive.”
“Kennedy, we will work our way through all this mess. I pray for you each and every day,” Mother whispered, reaching for my hand across the table. She gently squeezed and I squeezed back, thinking how my life would never be the same.
After breakfast, I decided to sit out on my wide, wooden deck for a change of pace. It wasn’t too cool; more like sweater weather. The neighborhood was quiet and peaceful. Most people had returned to work after the holidays and their routines resumed to normal. The only sounds were of squirrels scampering around in the dry leaves that lined the ground. Mother had fixed some hot mint tea and I reclined in one of my patio chairs, wrapped in a throw, and sipped it. I found myself in a reflective mode, so I decided to retrieve my journal and write for a while. Mother’s words had effectively reached me.
Dear Journal,
I was a coward yet again. I allowed Drake to penetrate me emotionally, and I didn’t bother to stand up for myself. Again. It seems he always knows exactly what buttons to push. I now know what a love-hate relationship feels like. I hate Drake so much that I can almost taste the loathing dripping off me like sweat. Yet, there is a small part of me, shoved way back there, that will always love him. Our relationship wasn’t always so toxic and painful. We didn’t always mix like oil and water. Not at all. Actually, things started out like a sweet dream that I wanted to replay over and over again. Why does love always turn sour?
Approximately a week after I was introduced to Drake at work, I picked up my ringing phone to find him on line two.
“Miss Logan?”
“Yes, speaking.”
“This is Drake Collins.”
“Hi. How are you?”
“Good, and yourself?”
“I’m great. How are you adjusting to the company and your new role?”
“I can’t complain. Everything is going well both on and off the job. Everyone I’ve met in Atlanta has extended true Southern hospitality. Strangers actually speak to you in the streets and look you in the eyes, and everyone is super friendly and laid back. I really think I’m going to enjoy living here.”
“That’s good.”
“Listen, I don’t know what your schedule looks like today, but would you have a few minutes, maybe an hour, to walk me through some of these reports? I know you service most of the clients on this list.”
I looked around at the pile of paperwork on my desk, but found myself agreeing to come up to his office in twenty minutes.
“Sure, I can squeeze you in.”
“It won’t be a problem?” Drake questioned in that deep voice that I loved to hear.
“No, not at all. See you in twenty.”
“Great. You’re a sweetheart, Miss Logan. I owe you one.”
Exactly twenty minutes later, after making a quick trip to the restroom, brushing my teeth, and combing through my thick mane of hair, I was softly knocking at Mr. Collins’s closed door.
“Come in.”
I slowly opened the door and strolled in. Drake was working with an Excel spreadsheet on his PC. He looked up and smiled in my direction. Perfect white teeth. Again, I couldn’t get over how utterly gorgeous he was. I simply stared. And he was all man. Solid. Drake carried himself like a man definitely in charge of any situation. I admired that.
“Hi, Kennedy. You’re right on time,” he stated, looking down at his gold wristwatch.
I still stood near the open door.
“Come on in, and close the door because it’s been pretty hectic and noisy on the floor today. I don’t want us to be disturbed.”
“Okay. Sure.” I shut the door and was enveloped into his space.
Standing up, he said, “You can take my chair. I’m going to be walking back and forth and pulling files, et cetera. It’ll be easier for you to sit and for me to stand.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
I took a seat in his black, soft leather swivel chair and felt his alluring fragrance and aura completely overtake me. As I made myself comfortable, Drake pulled out a stack of computer printouts and laid them in the center of his elegant cherrywood desk, and deposited himself on the edge of the desk, right next to me. With his suit jacket off and the sleeves to his white starched shirt rolled up, it was obvious that Drake was ready to get down to some serious business.
“Miss Kennedy, what is this mess? I can’t make heads or tails out of most of it. There are all these acronyms for everything. Where is a list that explains all the codes?”
I picked up a stack of the paperwork that he was referring to, reviewed them briefly, and started to explain what we were looking at in reference to our clients, their demographics, bundles, etc. The entire time, I was very aware of Drake being very near. So close. I could feel the heat rising from his body. I could see the tiny hairs standing up on his arms. Too close for comfort. Definitely.
When he was reviewing the printouts, I used that time to secretly check him out closer. He had the smoothest brown skin and his hands were so large, yet smooth. His haircut was perfect, like he had just stepped out of a barber’s chair, and the way his eyelashes swooshed over his eyelids was super sexy.
At one point, he stopped looking at the printouts and glanced over at me. For a moment, I thought he had caught me staring. I panicked. Coughing, I quickly looked down at the report in front of me.
“What is that enticing perfume you’re wearing? It smells wonderful.”
“Ellen Tracy.”
“Smells nice on you,” he said, and went back to examining the trail of paperwork he had laid out in neat stacks on his desk and credenza.
“Thank you.”
A couple of times I thought I felt him staring down my low-cut silk blouse that I wore with a straight black skirt and black pumps. From Drake’s point of view, he could clearly see my black lace bra and probably could see the swell of my breasts as they rose and fell in his presence with a desire and mind of their own.
“Where is that list of codes?” Drake asked, looking around at the stacks of paperwork on his desk.
“There they are, third stack from your right,” I explained as we both reached for the code sheet at the same time. When his hand touched my fingers, I experienced cool chills running up and down my arms. I quickly placed my hands back in my lap to steady them.
“Good. This is exactly what I need. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Running his hand across his head, Drake absently glanced down at his wristwatch.
“You know what? I’ve kept you long enough today. I didn’t realize it was so late and you haven’t even eaten lunch.”
“No, but I’m glad to help out any way I can.”
“Miss Logan, you’ve been an incredible help. Unfortunately, we only made it through a quarter of the reports. Can we meet again next week? Say, next Friday at ten o’clock?” he asked, looking at me expectantly. “Is that asking too much?”
“No. That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“How about scheduling two hours on your calendar?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“If you’d like, I can check with your manager to make sure she’s cool with it. Your manager is Peggy Hunt, isn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“Good. That’ll give me the chance to put in a good word for you as well. Let her know what a great asset you’ve been.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I want to,” Drake volunteered, with that smile shining bright.
“Thanks, that’ll be wonderful.”
“Okay, then, next week it is. Take care, Miss Logan.”
“You too,” I said, retrieving my belongings, then opening the door and heading out with a warm tingling coursing between my legs.
Wednesday of the following week I ran into Drake in the lobby, down by the security desk. He was talking with someone who I recalled meeting at an interdepartmental business meeting, one of the senior managers. Drake abruptly ended their conversation, came up behind me, and fell in pace. The fluttering began again.
“Hi, Miss Logan.” He smiled. I adored that smile.
“Hi, Mr. Collins.” I grinned back, looking up at him. He was so tall.
“Please, call me Drake.”
“Well, in that case, please call me Kennedy.” We grinned at each other again.
“Where are you headed?”
I held up my lunch bag. “Since the women on my floor are seriously tripping today, I decided to sit in the cafeteria with my leftovers from last night and read.”
Drake reached to check out the cover of the book I held in my other hand. “Is it good?”
“So far it’s excellent, pulls the reader in right from the very beginning. It’s by a local Atlanta author.”
“I’m headed to lunch too, but I hate eating alone. Could you join me?”
“I don’t know. I was—”
“I’ll even buy. Come on, say yes. I owe you for all your hard work last week.”
“Really, it’s not necessary. I was just doing my job.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer,” he stated, looking at me like he wasn’t going anywhere until I said yes.
“Okay, sure. Since you put it that way, why not?” I said as I left my lunch bag at the security desk for safekeeping.
“Where would you like to eat, Kennedy?”
“I’ve overheard my coworkers talking about this recently opened Italian restaurant that’s within walking distance and has delicious lunch specials.”
“Excellent. Lead the way,” he said, opening the door that led to the busy street.
As we walked the couple of blocks, I noticed women checking Drake out. He walked with a confident stride and air about himself; he had swagger.
An hour later, an hour that flew by, I couldn’t believe I had laughed, talked, and had such a wonderful time. The food was mouthwatering and the conversation even better. Our conversation wasn’t forced; it came natural and easy. As I ate my seafood pasta and Greek salad, Drake had me in stitches over some of his tales of growing up in Los Angeles. His descriptions were so vivid, I felt like I was right there with him.
I found myself opening up in ways I never expected. I surprised myself by confiding in him about my dissatisfaction with my current position. He seemed to genuinely understand and even offered suggestions and advice. A few times I would glance up and find him staring at me. I’d look down and play with a strand of my hair in order to avoid his eyes, which appeared to reach within my soul and seek out my deepest desires.
“May I ask you a personal question?” he asked, suddenly serious.
“Sure, why not? Ask away.”
“Are you seeing or dating anyone in particular?”
I paused for only a moment. “No and no.”
“That’s hard to believe. A beautiful lady like yourself, I would think you’d have men beating down your front door every night.”
“I’m afraid not,” I said, twirling another strand of my hair around and through my middle fingers.
“Why is that?”
“I’m afraid I’m too picky and selective.”
“What are you saying? There aren’t any good men in Atlanta?”
“If there are, I’m not meeting them.”