Forever. (This. Is. Not. Over. Book 3) Read online

  Forever.

  By Shannon Dianne

  (This. Is. Not. Over. #3)

  Copyright 2014 by Shannon Dianne

  All Rights Reserved

  www.shannondianne.com

  (rekindle.)

  “I’m actually heading to The Vineyard this summer so—”

  Caught.

  I watch him walk on the elevator with his wife and his eyes immediately pound onto mine. Play it cool. No problem.

  “So, I’ll call you later with the plans.” I hang up on my father without waiting for a reply. Within a moment, within an instant, I decide to say nothing. She looks flustered, maybe she’ll just ignore—

  “Hey?” She says which really translates into I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Her husband pushes number twelve on the elevator dial. He’s quick. I already pushed number eleven, presumably the floor we’re all headed for. But I can’t exit the elevator with them. That could possibly result in his wife waiting to see which room I walk into. The truth is that we’re all headed for the same room. She, of course, can’t know that.

  “Hey, how are you?” I ask, a smile on my face. She’s here, her husband’s here, I’m here. I’m not alarmed at all.

  “Good.” She says with a confused look on her face. “What brings you here?” And then I lie to her. This is the lie that I’ve rehearsed so I do it effortlessly. And I lie.

  And lie.

  And lie.

  She nods, believing every single word of it.

  While she may be surprised that I’m here, her husband most certainly is not. He asked me to come: I need you now, he said to me last Tuesday.

  Many people don’t know that I’ve known him for years. But our acquaintance has always been a confidential friendship, reserved for times of necessity. Many people don’t know the history of our people, the intricate tapestry that weave us all together. In our defense, he and I were never a secret. Not at all. It’s just that we were never in close proximity to each other, except for summers where we spent eight weeks in the same town. If we had been around each other more often, we would have told everyone how well we knew each other. No big deal. But things changed. Suddenly, no one could know that we knew each other. People were getting married. People were getting divorced. Feelings were getting hurt. Plots were being formed. Suddenly, no one could know how far he and I went back.

  When he called me last Tuesday, he asked me to meet him at the Starbucks on Tremont Street. Over the phone, he talked about his wife. He said he knew it was asking a lot but if I could meet him for coffee, maybe he and I could talk further. In person. He would’ve met me at a bar but Boston bars are filled with his clients and acquaintances. He needed to go somewhere low key. I have to admit, I was surprised when he called me up: Can we meet and talk? I know it’s inconvenient and I know it’s risky but …I need you. So I met him at the Starbucks on Tremont. That’s where he and I talked.

  And talked.

  And talked.

  And talked.

  And eventually he asked me to rekindle the fire. Reignite the flame. Get it going again. But he didn’t have to convince me. I immediately said yes.

  Now I’m here but I definitely wasn’t expecting his wife to be on this elevator right now. And I figured I’d see him upstairs in the room. So here the three of us are, engaging in small talk as the elevator climbs higher.

  He’s looking between his wife and me, smiling as if nothing’s wrong. His wife is looking me over, but I’m used to that. Finally, the elevator doors open and they both say their goodbyes as they step off. His wife hurries out but he trails slowly behind, turning around once he figures she isn’t looking. Meeting his eyes, I give him a nod: Don’t worry. I’m still coming. He gives me a nod before turning around.

  I let the elevator door close behind him.

  Thirteen Years Ago …

  (then.)

  “Is it too loud for you, babygirl?”

  “No, I’m good!” I scream back but doubt he even heard me.

  Geez! Jacob is rocking this song! Even the toothbrush holder is shaking with the bass. (My toothbrush is in Jacob’s holder. Mine is pink, his is blue. We love each other.) I look in the bathroom mirror and bop along to Slick Rick as I fix my hair. When I step off of Jacob’s motorcycle my hair always looks like I’ve been to Diana Ross’ beautician. A twenty-minute ride to our favorite burger spot to get hotdogs on a stick for Jacob and a black bean burger for me has completely destroyed every ounce of body in my hair. But who cares? Life is for the living and you only live once and dammit, I’m going to live on the back of Jacob’s motorcycle eating a black bean burger on a whole wheat bun while destroying my hairdo. I bring out the animal in you, Jacob always says.

  My love (Jacob) is currently rapping along with the song we’re jamming to. It’s “Teenage Love” by Slick Rick, which is, of course, one of the best songs ever written in the history of mankind. It’s clearly up there with Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata and James Weldon Johnson’s “Lift Every Voice and Sing”; that much is a given. Jacob and I have this habit of becoming addicted to ‘Old School’ rap songs and we have tons of CDs that we’ve labeled ‘Romantic Old School Rap’, which includes this song. As you can tell, Jacob and I are the kind of couple that has their own thing. Thank you very much.

  “Babygirl!” Jacob yells out over Slick.

  “Yeah, sweetie!”

  “Your phone!” Shoot! I told Danny I’d call and tell her what time my plane landed in New Orleans on Monday. I have such a busy week coming up. I have to accompany Marlon to his frat’s annual Pre-Spring Gala (purple and gold, baby!); and Danielle, Rena and I are taking the boys to our sorority’s annual Pre-Spring Ball. Galas and balls and boys, oh my! Then two days later Danielle, Jon, Marlon, Rena, Matt and I are flying back to Boston to attend the Boston Black Society Ball. Jon and Marlon are Danny and my dates so my parents and Danielle’s parents got Rena and Matt an invite of their own. This is just a taste of what our real life is going to be like after we all graduate college. How exciting! We’ll all be happily married, I’ll have a house full of boys and will likely be married to Jacob or Marlon, Danny and Jon will have at least two girls and Rena and Matt will likely have no kids at all. We’ll all go to black tie affairs, debutant balls (I of course was a debutant back in my day), and be featured on the front page of The Black Boston Gazette as the rising stars of Boston’s black society. Whew … I’m getting tired just thinking about it.

  I run out of the bathroom and see my cellphone on Jacob’s bed.

  “Turn that down!” I laugh out. “She’ll know I’m with someone if she hears me listening to rap.” Danny hates rap and I lied and told her I did too, since rap is kinda beneath us. Know what I’m saying? Of course you do.

  “Tell her you’re with Jacob ‘The Man’ Blair,” Jacob says as he turns the volume down and takes a seat at his desk. “And then proceed to tell her that you’ve decided to forgo this New Orleans trip with the girls to run away with me on the back of my bike.” Within a second I have a vision in my head of me on the back of Jacob’s bike, holding onto him as he rides down a black shiny road dotted with yellow lane markers, my long white veil floating out behind me.

  That is, after he tells his parents next week that he won’t be marrying Gwyneth Yates.

  “Not such a bad idea,” I say to him as I flash my brows. He gives me a wink before sliding his shirt off with one easy swoop, tattoos covering both of his shoulders, right up to the blade, and part of his back. “If your mother ever sees those, she’s gonna kill you,” I say right before I grab my phone and press Talk.

  “Nobody kills The Man, babygirl,” he whispers with a gritty face, the muscles of his sto
mach flexing.

  “Oh hush,” I whisper back. “Hey Danny darling!” I yell out at the top of my lungs, my head turned towards Jacob’s bedroom door. He laughs silently, looks to his bedroom door and raises his hand, slowly doing a five second countdown on his fingers.

  Five.

  “Hey honey!” Danny says. “When do you get in? You’re making me nervous like you’re not coming or something.”

  Four.

  “Oh please, picture that. Me not come to New Orleans? My bags are packed and by the door!”

  Three.

  “I have a secret but you better not say a word.”

  “What?”

  Two.

  “I overheard Marlon talking to Jon about moving to Boston after school and starting his real estate business there.”

  “No!”

  One.

  Boom! Malcolm busts through the door. At the sight of him nearly out of breath, his shirt off, a pair of sweats on and a Gatorade in his hands, I nearly fall over laughing. I put my hand over my mouth to stop myself while Jacob leans back in his chair, silently cracking up. This guy is in love with Danny. And I mean, in love. Just earlier today when he picked me up from the airport, we were talking about Jacob and this arranged marriage that he’s not going through with and before we could put the period on the end of the conversation, Malcolm started talking about Danny.

  Is this Jon character treating her right?

  Is she thinking about marrying this clown?

  Do you think I should just find a way to meet up with her?

  So does she ever mention the guy whose face she never saw?

  She’s going on another spring break with this boyfriend of hers?

  She’s not thinking of marrying him, is she?

  To which I answered, ‘Yes, Jon treats her like a princess. He’s totally the marrying type so they will probably get married. No, I don’t think now’s a good time to meet up with her. Sorry but she never mentions the guy she never saw. Of course she’s going on spring break with her boyfriend, that’s what couples do. And again, yes, Jon is the marrying type so they may just get married in the future.’

  Malcolm looks at the phone and points to it. Is that her? he mouths to me. I smile and shake my head yes. Has she mentioned me yet? he asks with a smile. I hear Jacob trying to laugh silently at the question. No! I mouth to him as Danny starts talking about the conversation she overheard between Marlon and Jon. But to tell you the truth, while I do like Marlon and I actually may think that I love him, I love Jacob too. It’s just that with Jacob, I can never be too sure if what he says is golden. He isn’t a downright liar; he’s a liar by exclusion. So sometimes with him, you’ve got to drill into his core in order to uncover the whole truth. If you call him up and ask what he’s doing, he’ll say he’s grabbing a bite to eat. But there are so many layers to that statement. So many possibilities. If I want the entire picture of what he’s doing I have to ask:

  With who?

  Where?

  Leslie. Is that a guy or a girl?

  Are you two friends?

  Are you two more than friends?

  Are you having sex with her?

  Have you ever slept with her?

  Are you planning on sleeping with her tonight?

  He always denies any wrongdoing but I don’t buy it. I know Jacob; what was once Jacob just grabbing a bite to eat can turn into taking some girl named Leslie to a five-star seafood restaurant in order to take her to his place later. From there, he’ll sex her, sweet talk her, drive her home and be alone the next morning when I call him at our normal time of six a.m. Are you alone, Jacob? Of course, Jasmine.

  But I’m not sweating this or anything; I don’t worry about this often. It’s not a big deal. We’re all young and legally single; but still, I just wish Jacob would behave.

  “But you didn’t hear any of that from me,” Danny says.

  “Fine. I’ll pretend like I don’t know a thing.”

  So Marlon’s thinking about a future with me? Hmm … I gotta admit, I can see being married to a tall, toffee-brown Philly boy. Marlon and I would likely be married in a proper Catholic church surrounded by black elites from Boston and Philadelphia, news cameras flashing. Surely we’d have a write up in Jet Magazine; my mother would likely be able to squeeze us into Essence. Yeah, I could see that. I look at Jacob to make sure he didn’t hear Danny (or my thoughts). He’s whispering something to Malcolm.

  I’ll tell ya, Jacob is gorgeous; olive skin, dark hair, dark brown eyes, a square jaw, a perpetual case of five o’clock shadow and a gritty smile. Marlon, on the other hand, is an all-American boy; a clean cut, country clubber who dresses in Polo, is perfectly lean and chiseled and always wears a warm smile. That’s it; it’s settled. I love Jacob and I love Marlon and selfishly, I’m not willing to give either of them up. Jacob’s a fun place to fly high with, Marlon’s a sanctuary to land on.

  Let’s be honest, I have to think about life after college and I’ll be graduating in a few months. I’m not trying to sound like I’m better than anyone but my family has always been members of Boston’s black elite. (I hate to say the word ‘elite’ when talking to regular people, but really, I don’t know what other word to say. Oh, and I didn’t mean anything by that ‘regular people’ comment, so please don’t take offense to that, kay? Thanks a bunch!) The black elite is a group that you literally have to be invited into—sorta like a frat or sorority. When you’re a kid, you’re a member by your parents’ association. But after college, you aren’t allowed into their functions, nor are you allowed to call yourself a member of the elite, until you’ve been personally asked to join them.

  Your membership depends on five criteria: your choice of career, your willingness to perform extended hours of community service, your ability to contribute hefty amounts of finances to select causes, your dedication to upholding the image of a pristine black Bostonian, and your lineage—either a wife or husband must be a Boston native for a couple to gain membership into the elite. I am adamant about gaining my own membership after college; I’m just not too sure if dating a white guy is going to get me what I want. Ya know? Marlon seems driven but if he’s talking about moving to Boston that means he’s forgoing the financial perks and connections of his family back in Philadelphia. Marlon and I would be starting our empire from the ground up. Jacob will move back to Boston and sail right in on the coattails of the Blairs. So, what’s a girl to do?

  “Tell her to turn around,” Malcolm whispers to me with a smirk and a wink before he turns and walks out, his shoulders scarcely fitting through the bedroom door. Mmm. I like Jon, don’t get me wrong, but I think Danny could have a little fun with that Malcolm. I’m just saying.

  “Okay, so I’m about to go grab dinner with Rena,” Danny says. “Call me later.”

  “’K, bye. Love ya.”

  “Love ya too.”

  I end the call and look at Jacob who’s now taking pictures of himself with a camera designated specifically for his Evidence class. He’s in law school and the camera is one of the props he uses for assignments; however, every chance he gets, he’s whipping it out and taking pictures of the two of us. After all, we’re in love.

  “Here, come sit down on me,” he says, as he reaches his hand out for me.

  “You and these darn pictures.”

  I take his hand but instead of sitting on his lap, I straddle him. Jacob brings out the animal in me.

  “Don’t be coy, Jasmine Harlow,” he whispers to me as I purposely grind myself into his lap. Jacob was my first partner; Marlon was my second. Both of them deserve standing ovations in bed, though that would likely hurt Jacob’s pride more than Marlon’s. Jacob likes to think that whatever he does is a miracle that has never and will never be successfully accomplished again. This can range from acing a test to making me orgasm on the nights that I visit Yale. But truthfully, between you and me, Marlon makes me orgasm just as much. Jacob rides rough; Marlon digs deep. Different ride; same destination.


  “I have an idea,” I say as I lean over, push his ever-present package of Oreo cookies out of the way and grab two Post-It notes.

  “What’s that?” he asks as he watches me write on them.

  “I’m tired of the same old pictures,” I say and stick my tongue out of my mouth, ardently writing ‘Black Girls Rule’ on his Post-it note. “There.” I hand it to him. He turns it around and reads it.

  “Hell, yeah.” He yanks me towards him and crashes his mouth onto mine, engulfing my entire mouth in his. Typical Jacob. I bite his bottom lip before laughing and pushing away.

  “And this is my sign.” I grab my note and— “Wait,” I say before locking eyes with him and then sliding out of my shirt.

  “I’m in love,” he says as he watches me throw it to the ground. I unsnap my bra. “I’m in heaven.” I let it slide to the ground. “You’re an animal.”

  “Ready, white boy?”

  “Please tell me your pants are next.” I lean over and touch his lips with mine.

  “They are,” I say against them.

  “Hold that goddamn sign up so we can take this goddamn picture.” I laugh and grab my Post-It note as Jacob leans over and presses the rewind button on the stereo. Slick Rick’s “Teenage Love” starts blaring again.

  “Ready, baby?” I scream out over Slick.

  “Let’s do this shit, babygirl! Let’s give it to ‘em gritty! One! Two! Three!”

  Flash.

  Back To Now …

  (now.)

  “Merry Christmas!”

  “Please.” I roll my eyes at the Salvation Army Santa and tread through two feet of snow towards my hotel. I’m staying at the Ritz Carlton. The damn Ritz Carlton. I have a condo and a husband and two daughters and yet, I’ve been exiled to the Ritz Carlton.

  “Want a candy cane, miss?” a little boy asks. He has on an applejack hat, a scarf, a plaid Victorian-era cravat and a peacoat. He smiles at me, the moon reflecting in his twinkling eyes. The chilly air gives him rosy cheeks. He looks sweet.