“Okay. Love you, sis.”
“Love you, too, Charisma.”
When she ends the call, I feel a solemn weight resting on me. I know what it is, but I can’t seem to shake it. This feeling always comes over me anytime his name comes up or anytime that I think of him for too long.
“God!” I cry out, banging my fist on my steering wheel. “Will I ever get over him?”
Silence answers me as I pull up to my studio not too far from Ben’s house. I hop out, rush into the building, and jab the button for the elevator. Chrishanna, or Chrissy as we call her, isn’t the only one running late.
When I arrive upstairs, I smile at the handsome, light-skinned man with curly hair, sitting in the chair outside of my studio door.
“Hi, Emmanuel.”
“Hello, Charisma.”
“Sorry that I’m late. Your former employer isn’t feeling well.”
He waves his hand and chuckles. “He’s a big baby that one, but he’ll be okay.”
“Are you ready?” I ask, unlocking the door to the office space that I rent.
“Of course.”
“I can’t wait to hear all the juicy details. Make yourself comfortable. Would you like some tea, coffee, juice, or water?” I ask, heading across the room to my little refrigerator.
“Water, please. You won’t hear them all. Some of them you’ll have to wait for when the book releases.” He walks further into the room and takes a look around at my red and white decorated studio space.
Handing him a water bottle, I ask with a pout, “Do any of the details include my boyfriend?”
“You’ll have to wait to see that,” he teases as I remove a mug from the cabinet to pour hot water into.
“But where’s the fun in that? I’m doing the interview. You know you can share a little with me.” I poke my bottom lip out and bat my eyelashes at him.
He laughs. “Girl, you can be very persuasive when you want to, but no, that won’t work on me. The details I’m telling today are just enough to lure people in to buy the book, but it’s not giving anything away that makes it not worth buying the book or that might endanger my life.”
I pause with my hand on a tea bag, and I turn to look over my shoulder. “That deep?”
He angles his head, presses his lips together, and narrows his gaze. “Chile, that deep.”
“Shit.”
My heart races, and I pray that Ben isn’t included in his book. Senator Benjamin Starling has had an impeccable career and a stellar reputation in the community.
“Well, let’s get into it.” I rip my tea bag open and set it inside of the mug of hot water before I join him in the seating area.
Something tells me that I’ll need something stronger than this vanilla chai tea when this is all over with.
My head is banging like someone set off a round of cymbals inside of it. Damn. Would someone turn off the rock music, please? What the entire hell? My ears are stopped up and ringing, and I wish that it would stop.
Did I have too much to drink? I can’t remember. I don’t recall drinking anything recently, but maybe I did. Shit.
I try to roll over, but I bump into someone. Damn. Please tell me that I didn’t drink so much that I chose to sleep with Ben. We were so close. Damn it. I promised myself that I would wait a year before deciding to do that. Why would I remain abstinent all this time just to throw it away on a night of drunken sex that I can’t recall?
I groan. “Ben?” I tap him to see if he’s awake, and my head lolls to the side of the pillow. It hurts too much to move too fast, and when I try to peel my eyes open and lift my head, it starts swimming. “Damn! Ben?”
I tap his arm again, but he doesn’t move or utter a word. Is he drunk too? Not Ben the good boy with virtues and grace. Surely, he isn’t drunk off his ass.
I press my hands into the mattress, and the silk texture of the sheets is unfamiliar to me. I slowly push up to a seated position, cautious not to overwhelm myself too fast.
