“Nope but I wonder if your weekend lover can. They just left me a message for you.” I hung up so I could send him a shot of the picture.
My phone began ringing back to back from Quincey, but they all went ignored as I flew to his office. No, this wasn’t about to be a phone conversation. I wanted him to look me in my eyes and lie about breaking our open relationship rules and risking not just his shit, but my pageant career.
I made it to city hall in no time. I walked in, ignoring his secretary Monica as I barged right into his office. He was in the middle of calling me as I tossed the picture on the desk.
“A gotdamn picture, Q!” I yelled. He was up quick, closing the door behind me as if that would help keep Monica from hearing me.
“Josie, I can explain.”
I laughed humorlessly.
“You can explain this? I want to hear this bullshit.”
“It’s old.” He shrugged like that would make it better.
I blinked hard a few times.
“Tell me again how that makes it better. We have rules, Q, no offsite play, yetthis…this picture tells me you were meeting up wherever you want. I’m not even upset, just stuck on why I need to be reminded of the rules when clearly you get to break them when you see fit.”
“That’s not what I did, Josie. It was a long time ago and only one time.”
I scoffed.
“One time. You must’ve forgotten who you talking to, Q. Ain’t no need to continue to lie right now. So who is it?” He got quiet, reaching out for me.
“I’ma take care of it. You don’t have to worry about who.” I snatched away, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I do if they’re getting in my car, Quincey! What’s not clicking about that? What, do they need to be sitting in my shit waiting for me next time?—”
“I said I got it, damn Josie!” he yelled, cutting me off.
I chuckled as I licked my top teeth. I backed out of his reach just as he tried to grab me.
“Wait, Josie, I’m sorry.”
“Yup, sure are.”
That was all I said as I turned, opening the door to leave his office.
Quincey had me fucked up.
If he wasn’t abiding by our rules, then why the hell should I?
Exactly, Johnni, you might as well get your cake ate too.
I shot a text to Mama Steph, letting her know I was sick and would get back with her tomorrow. Then sent another text to someone I knew would calm my nerves faster than my tea.
Me: Drop your address. I’m on my way.
The dots appeared and disappeared before he dropped a pin with his location.
Courtland: The garage will be open, pull in.
That was all I needed to know as I made my way to Courtland.
I made it to his house in less than twenty minutes, doing as instructed, pulling into his garage next to his truck. I grabbed my phone, turning it off. I almost jumped out of my skin at the sound of the door closing behind me until I saw him standing in the garage in nothing but basketball shorts with his chiseled, tattooed chest on display.
Gotdamn, God, you crafted a work of art.
