Love Delivered (4 page)

Erika was swift and forceful with her movements. Momentarily jarred, I caught on in seconds. She pulled back first and with slanted eyes she purred, “I’ve been waiting to do that for too long. See you later, Stent.” She backed away seductively, then with perfect agility, turned on her heel back towards the conference room.

I must admit, I was uneasy about this, but as I walked out, I reminded myself about Erika’s long, hot-and-cold relationship with the rapper, Shirez, from Detroit. We had a few friends in common, who had been reporting back to me with their affairs. One person in particular was a forward on my team from the Motor City. He said they were in Cabo San Lucas just last month. I was bothered by how that fact didn’t bother me at all. I couldn’t give a fuck. If they continued to use discretion, he could continue to fuck Erika for all I cared.

The very reason I didn’t sweat it was the same that I had to get my black ass across these bridges. My little man was getting four big boy shots today and I was nervous as shit.

~~~~~~~~~~

Then

October 2008

~
Zoey
~

So not to appear leery as I got out of the truck, I decided to first retrieve the gifts. As soon as I closed the driver’s door, I clicked the fob to lock the truck. Observing the block of desolate and some abandoned homes, I clicked again to unlock the trunk. Once the cargo door was lifted open, I clicked to lock the truck again. Jordan was in the back seat, sleeping soundly. I didn’t want to disturb him, but I also felt the need to be extra cautious with having him on the Westside of Brick City.

Once I had the gifts in hand, I headed to the back seat to retrieve his baby bag then unhook him from the base of the car seat. When I locked the truck for the last time, I gathered Jordan by the handle of the car seat, lifted the gifts, and wobbled up the stairs to the address my mom had given me the night before. While swaying my way up the cemented stairs, I caught the captivated eyes of the neighbors sitting on the porch. It was nearly noon, but the block was relatively quiet. I rang the doorbell and waited…anxiously.

Hurry up, please…

“Yo!”

And there it was.

I turned my head, not my body, to the nosey neighbors and found a chocolate, thin framed young man who could be no more than seventeen. His hair was unkempt, knotted with gray matter interspersed. His eyes were big and yellow, though he appeared very sober. There was crust about his mouth and I could tell he’d just recently awakened for the day.

“That’s StentRo’s seed?” he asked.

I don’t know why but my eyes rolled down to Jordan before I shook my head. Was that a mistake? Should I have lied? Would we be attacked or robbed because of who his father is? I didn’t know the etiquette of handling Stenton’s fans, or enemy’s, from his famed celebrity I’d been thrust into recently with Jordan.

“Oh, shit! Could I come see?” he asked, clearly excited.

“Leave her alone, T-Murder,” admonished the humpty dumpty figure of a woman next to him, seated on a stoop too small for her frame.

T-Murder?

Her demand was too late. T-Murder was on his way over to us. I rang the doorbell again, even more impatiently.

Come on!

“Oh, shit! Lil’ money look just like Stent! Tash come see this lil’ nigga!” he cried with sheer excitement.

I gasped and the door finally opened.

“Tyrone, I know I didn’t just hear that derogatory word fly from your mouth regarding my great-nephew!” Stanley stated in a warning manner.

“Oh, nah, Uncle Stan! It’s just that lil’ man look just like him.” T-Murder—because that’s what I was still stuck on—was still gushing.

I knew this because I could clearly see the beam in his crusted eyes and twitch in his white crusted lips. Oddly, that morning’s messy display thawed me. Stanley, on the other hand, wasn’t taken at all. He grabbed the gift bags and pivoted to welcome me into his home. I lifted Jordan and followed his command, not missing the words of caution he issued T-Murder before closing the door.

“I’m sorry about that,” Stanley offered from behind.

I was too busy trailing my gaze against the old pictures hanging from the wall. There were lots of them, far more than normal, causing me to take Stanley for a sentimental man.

“I’ve been in this house more years than you have on this earth, young lady.”

He must have caught my fixation. I didn’t reply, just moved Jordan out of the doorway and wandered over to a weathered picture of two young boys no more than eight…who heavily resembled Stenton.

“You and his dad…”

“…were twins, yes,” he offered from behind me.

I didn’t startle at his wit. I couldn’t remove my gaze from the photo.

“I didn’t know that.”

Stanley chuckled. “I suppose he didn’t tell you that. It would have been a fascinating mention, but nothing for you to worry about. Genetically speaking, the father determines the sex of the baby and the mother does the number of them in the womb at once. Unless twins run in your family, Jordan here was destined to incubate and arrive here alone.”

I stood and turned to him. Stanley was tall and cinnamon. He didn’t have the length Stenton carries and likely didn’t before age morphed his natural height. Stanley’s eyes weren’t marbled either. They were pitch sable, very stark. I dropped my eyes to the floor at his expectant stare. He was a bit intimidating.

“What was Stenton’s father’s name?”

“Stenton.”

“Stanley and Stenton,” I muttered underneath my breath, or so I thought.

“You mean Stenton and Stanley. He was born two hours before me. I was the stubborn one, destined to be the loner.” With his long arm stretched in the air, he gestured at the aged home where he resided alone.

I rubbed the back of my neck as I cleared my throat. “How old would he have been?”

“Are you asking my age in a roundabout way, Zoey?”

I swear I wasn’t. I was just intrigued about the man who haphazardly raised Stenton, the, in turn, solitary man.

“Stanley, I brought you birthday gifts and cake from my momma’s kitchen, shouldn’t my intentions be clear by now?” I winked flirtatiously.

His head barreled back and Stanley hooted like I’d never heard him before. I’d been with Stenton’s uncle on several occasions over the past year, the first time was when I was in my last trimester when Stenton brought him over to my parents’ for dinner at my mother’s insistence. It was after we’d made love on my birthday when it was less painful to see him. Then after Stenton and his teammates left Jordan’s christening, my dad agreed to give Stanley a lift home. He came over to my parents’ to spend time with Jordan. He and my father made fast friends...well, as much as was possible with Stanley; he was an anomic and only took company or gave it in small doses. My father, as a flexible man, was okay with that. My mother less so. She didn’t believe God created us to live in solitude. She made it her mission to connect with people like Stanley, who she felt needed companionship of some sort, hence my visit today.

I didn’t need to be assigned to come to Newark to spend time with Stenton’s uncle for his birthday. I got along with him and only didn’t initiate the visit myself because he could be a bit standoffish and preferred his privacy. We’d invited him to church, family dinners and other gatherings where he selectively obliged. But my mother was insistent that Jordan and I come today, even skipping morning worship to be with him. So, after Sunday school, Jordan and I hit the parkway.

“You’re a damn firecracker, you know that?”

I shrugged and smiled ruefully. “I’m good for a hoot every now and then.”

“Sit down and relax. I put out some snacks for us.” He started out of the living room, presumably headed to the kitchen toward the back of the two-family home.

“Hang on,” I alerted. “You know the first thing Sarah Barrett is going to ask is what you thought of her banana bread.” I rustled through one of the gift bags for the pan.

“Sarah…sent banana bread?” his voice drooped like Scooby Doo’s. “Well, young lady, you should have said banana bread instead of just cake. Give that thing to me.” He came over and barbarically snatched the pan from me.

“Hey! And what am I…chopped liver? I put on my favorite dress for you!” I pinched my brows together.

Stanley paused, considering my jeering. “One piece. That’s all I’ll share and that’s because you’re wearing open toe shoes. I don’t fancy them. But you did bring my great-nephew to celebrate my birthday, and that has earned you one piece.”

He paced to the back, now leaving me laughing to the point of tears. That was Uncle Stanley. He was a pseudo-loner. When he felt inclined, he’d light up the room with unmatched energy, but you could always be guaranteed the following day he’d decline your invitation for more of it. Mercurial, just like his nephew.

Stanley and I had my mom’s banana bread and tea. I watched as he opened the gifts my parents—or more specifically, Mom—sent over. He seemed content with them, though with him you never knew. One reaction that wasn’t ambiguous was that to Jordan awakening. It was perfect timing, considering my breasts were filled to capacity. He’d fallen out on the way here. I didn’t expect for him to sleep so long. I guess I should have, considering how late he stayed up the night before. It was unusual for him now that he’d just been trained to sleep through the night by Eligia who turned out to be a god-send.

Stanley had just asked me about school when Jordan started wiggling and getting fussy in his lap.

“Lunch time for the Jordan!” I cheerily announced to calm him. “Is there a room I can use to feed him? I don’t want to have to explain your myocardial infarction to your next of kin.”

“Sure.” He chuckled. “Use the room near the living room. You’ll have plenty of room there. If you saw mine, I’d have to explain your myocardial infarction to Sarah Barrett.”  

In no time, I learned the room he offered up was Stenton’s childhood bedroom. It was small…and dark from not having direct sunlight due to the close proximity of the house next door. The walls boasted sports awards and academic certificates along with a few posters of rappers. There was a desk in the corner, still covered with old notebooks, binders and folders. I pulled the tiny chair from the desk and made myself comfortable, idly wondering if a teenaged Stenton could fit in it. It was at the perfect height for me. A hurried Jordan was wrestling with my blouse before I was able to open it and unhook my nursing bra. Once he was suckling, I sat back, trying to relax as he finally did. I knew this would be a long feed considering the length of time he slept, which was fine by me because I had the supply. As Jordan relieved one boob, I observed the small room with curiosities running wild. I switched him over and found myself regarding another wall of the room, near the door.

On the mirror of his dresser were pictures and short, ripped out articles of Stenton’s successes. I even noticed one of a girl tucked under his arm, wearing a smile marginally brighter than his there. I wondered if that was his girlfriend, his first love. I yawned, pondering what it would have been like to be Stenton’s first love back then…if I were his age of course. Would he have been as taciturn as he is at thirty-one? Would he have been more inclined to be together? Did he hold hands back then, write notes, go out on dates? Did he open doors, dry hump, or sneak into windows late at night. That’s what I would have had him do. I could hardly resist Stenton now, I could only imagine at what level my audacity would have been then.  

I don’t know what jostled me from my sleep, but my eyes snapped opened. It dawned on me just how exhausted I’d been from Jordan’s late night conversations. My eyes instinctively diverted to the door once I realized where I was. Stenton stood there, resting his tall frame in the doorway. Clearly oversized for the space, his legs stretched wide to accommodate his height. He looked pained, troubled. Then I recognized the slant in his eyes. I raked down his length and immediately caught his unabashed erection. It was eerily long and thick against his thigh.

What caused that reaction out of him?

Then my eyes roved to my exposed breast inside of Jordan’s slacked mouth. I observed it long enough to catch his intermittent suckling that wasn’t feeding, it was pacifying. I didn’t allow Jordan to use my breasts as a pacifier. That wasn’t healthy. Softly, I pulled back from him without stirring him, hooked and tucked myself inside of my blouse.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, unable to look him in the eye.

“Don’t be,” he returned at equal volume.

I positioned Jordan over my shoulder to burp him, still avoiding Stenton’s eyes. I knew this would take a while since he was in a deep sleep.

“I didn’t know you two would be here. We could have come together.”

“We’re on a Sarah Barrett assignment. I think our mission has been accomplished.” I smiled.

“You’re leaving?” there was alarm in his baritone.

“Yeah, probably should. You know how your uncle’s timer of hospitality works.”

Stenton snickered. “Nah, I think you two did good. I haven’t seen him this jolly since he hit the Pick 6 in ’92.”

“You know me. I light the fire in everyone’s eyes with my infectious sense of humor,” I added wryly while searching the baby bag for a burping cloth.