Torn: I Dont Need You, But I Want You Read online

  “Good evening, Officer Peterson,” the nurse says as I approach the nurses’ station. She knows me and D very well. Being cops, you encounter your fair share of injuries, especially working at the NYPD.

  “Good evening,” I reply.

  “Your partner is still in surgery; the doctor will be out to speak to you and Mrs. Carter immediately following surgery,” she informs me.

  “Thank you,” I reply.

  ‘Now that I think about it, where the hell is Tae?’ I think, scanning the waiting area in hopes of seeing her. She’s probably a mess right now, so it might be a good thing if I don’t see her right now. I can’t deal with her and this at the same time. I have to get myself together. I’m in no shape to console anyone right now.

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  Looking at my watch, I realize I’ve been sitting here for two-and-a-half hours. Panic starts to set in, but I know I have to remain calm for D. “He needs me right now,” I say, trying to encourage myself. I begin to calm down when I notice a doctor walking in my direction.

  “Officer Peterson?” the surgeon asks, his voice trembling slightly.

  “Yes?” I reply, springing to my feet.

  “I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances,” he says apologetically.

  “No problem; how is he?”

  “As you are aware, Officer Carter had to undergo emergency surgery due to bleeding in his brain. The gash to his head from the airbags deploying caused trauma and bleeding. The surgery went well; however, I must inform you that these types of injuries are severe and can be life-threatening.”

  “So what are you saying, doc?” I ask, unable to fight back my tears.

  “What I am saying is miraculously, there wasn’t a large amount of bleeding; therefore, we were able to drain the blood and control the bleeding, which means there’s a possibility Officer Carter will make a full recovery and walk out of this unharmed. On the other hand, with bleeding to the brain, oxygen-rich blood is prevented from flowing to the brain tissue, causing additional swelling and pressure. Although the operation assisted with alleviating some of this pressure, there is still some pressure and swelling present. Right now, we have to allow the swelling to subside and his injuries to heal before taking any further steps. Officer Carter will be monitored around the clock, and we will make sure to you and Mrs. Carter are kept apprised of his progress.”

  “So how long could this take?” I ask through tears.

  “It’s hard to say, honestly; brain swelling can cause you to be unconscious for a week, a few days, or months,” he replies.

  “Thank you, doc,” I say, shaking his hand, weeping on the inside.

  “Hold the fuck up! They’ve mentioned Latavia twice, and I have been here for hours and haven’t seen her. Was she in the car with him?” I ask myself, walking back to the nurses’ station.

  “Excuse me, was Officer Carter in the car with his wife when he had an accident?” I question one of the nurses.

  “No, she wasn’t in the car with him. However, she was involved in the accident as well and she was admitted,” she informs me.

  This shit just went from bad to worse.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven ~ BK to the Rescue!

  Rescue someone unwilling to look after him/herself,

  and they will cling to you like a dangerous illness.

  — Mason Cooley

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  When I get to the hospital, there are more police officers than a brother can handle at one time. Not that I’m riding dirty or on the run or anything, but being around that much law enforcement will make anyone a little nervous. I’m just going to play it cool and peep shit out so I know what my next move is. Now is not the time to get caught out there slipping and getting locked-the-fuck-up for trying to salvage what’s rightfully mine.

  Taking a seat in the waiting area with my back turned to the entire NYPD, I can hear all the commotion going on when who I assume to be Tae’s husband’s partner arrives.

  “We are here for you if you need us, Officer,” a couple of his fellow officers say simultaneously.

  Everyone begins catering to that muthafucka’s every move and word, acting all sympathetic and shit. The only other thing I can make out from the noise is homeboy got fucked-up real bad in the car accident and he is now in surgery. In other words, that was my cue to go console my baby girl.

  “She’s sleeping like a baby,” I say to myself, entering the room.

  As I proceed to walk to the other side of the room, I can hear her talking in her sleep. I can’t see her face; she is lying on her side, with her back facing the door.

  “I’m so sorry, Nae; please forgive me,” she pleads.

  I am now close enough to see her beautiful-but-frightened face, and it’s drenched with sweat. It looks like she’s crying, too, and I can’t take seeing that shit at all. I go to wake her up and her eyes pop open, scaring a brother half to death. She looks right past me, around the room, like she is lost or has mentally left the building.

  “You all right, baby girl? That must have been a hell of a nightmare you were having.”

  Tae just nods her head yes as fresh tears run from her swollen eyes. She doesn’t look good at all. This isn’t the beautiful woman I was with a just a couple of days ago. My baby looks like she’s lost a hundred pounds. Her face looks mad ashy or maybe pale; I guess that’s the right word. All I know is I don’t like any of this shit and it ends today.

  “Don’t worry, baby girl; big daddy is here now to make it all better,” I say, trying to console her.

  Thinking to myself, I honestly don’t know how, but I have to get her to see things my way and get her the fuck out of here unnoticed. Before I can even process shit, I am lying to Tae, telling her the nurse said they have to keep her here for a couple of days for observation. She falls right into big poppa’s hands, practically begging me to get her away from everything and everyone.

  After making sure the coast is clear and Tae is dressed, we casually walk out of the hospital, hand-in-hand. I gave her my hoodie and fitted Yankee’s cap to try to disguise her so she can walk out unnoticed. I’m not going to front: she looks good as fuck with that shit on. I want to beat it up on sight, but now is not the time for that.

  I can see the pain in Tavia’s face with each movement; lucky for her I keep Ibuprofen in my glove box. No one likes to be in pain; I for damn-sure don’t and I’ve been having these killer headaches that are a bitch-and-a-half. I guess I need to carry my lazy ass to the eye doctor and holla at some frames for these bad eyes of mine. Until then, Ibuprofen it is, and it works out because I can help ease my baby girl’s pain.

  Tae sleeps for the hour-and-a-half ride to my crib in Connecticut. I refuse to bring her to that little-ass apartment I am staying in in the Bronx. That’s just to hold me over until I snatch up what belongs to me. Considering I’m good now and Tavia’s with me, I really don’t have any use for it any longer. However, you never now, so I will chill on that thought.

  “How long have I been asleep and where are we going?” my sleeping beauty asks.

  “We are home, baby girl; home sweet home,” I reply, grinning like some schoolboy.

  “Is that right?” she questions.

  “Yes, it is. Now grab my hand so I can show you around if you’re up to it.”

  “Can I get a rain check?” she asks. “I just want to take a nice, hot bath along with a nice, relaxing, stiff drink,” she asks through a forced smile.

  Without saying another word, I escort her to the master bath, handing her clean face and bath towels before being on my way to fetch some wine for the lady and some conga for myself. I don’t know what’s in store for tonight, but a brother will be prepared, no matter what.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight ~ Latavia’s on the Run

  I promise you running away, moving away, will NOT heal what hurts!

  It just puts a Band-Aid on a gaping wound. Denial is dangerous!

  — Author Unknown

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  “This bath is what I need right now,” I say to myself. I need to try to relax my mind; everything in my life is upside down and out of control. Darnell is a lying bastard, and Nae is a sneaky, backstabbing, slut-bucket. I am so sick of crying; I hate my life right now. The only good thing I have going right now is BK. He has always been a man of perfect timing. To think I was stupid enough to believe Darnell was the perfect man. Boy, did he have me fooled. It’s okay; no love lost. They say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone new. Guess who’s about to go to the underworld to find out just how true that saying is—especially now that the bleeding has stopped.

  ‘If things go the way I’m hoping they will, I will just leave my past where it is—dead to me—and start over with BK’s fine self.’ I smile thinking about BK’s fine tail. Thinking about that man has forced me to cut my bath short. ‘Where is he?’ I think, walking right into him as I exit the bathroom.

  “Damn, baby girl, I’m sorry; I didn’t even see you. Now you have Hennessey all over that sexy body of yours,” he says apologetically, licking his thick, cunt-eating lips.

  “Lord, please forgive me. My thoughts are definitely way off; BK brings out my inner whore. I don’t know what has come over me. Whatever it is, I pray it involves me squirting up every room in this house, over and over again,” I silently pray.

  As I stand there, creating scenes in my head, BK takes it upon himself to get the show started. “Baby girl, let me help clean this mess up,” he says, using his tongue as my personal wash cloth, prompting my juices to slither down my leg. Standing in front of me, he bends his neck, taking my right nipple into his mouth gently, nibbling and sucking it. Because he is a generous man, he makes sure to give the left nipple the same pleasure as he holds onto it with his teeth, gently pulling it, causing me to squirm with pleasure.

  By this time, his hand has found its way down to my kitty kat, slowly rubbing it and grinding the palm of his hand into my lips and clit. My juices are now covering his hand like a glove. At this point, I am beyond turned on. My chest is heaving like I just finished running or something, my nipples are erect, and my cootie is glistening from my juices that are flowing like a river.

  Dropping to his knees, he lifts up my left leg to rest on his shoulder. He is now face-to-face with my candy land, and my God, does he have a sweet tooth. He goes head-first, probing my canal with his tongue, sliding it in and out, making sure to give my clit some attention. BK clearly wants me to lose my mind with the sucking and licking to the roof of my twat on his mission to become acquainted with my G-spot. This causes my legs to buckle and I quickly lose my balance. BK shows no mercy, grabbing the other leg and resting it on his shoulder. While I use the crown of his head for support, he plunges his tongue in and out between sucking on my clit, until he sucks an earth-quaking orgasm out of me.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine ~ Who’s That Lady?

  Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,

  nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.

  — William Congreve

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  I am a firm believer that there is most definitely a thin line between love and hate. I love Braxton with the same intense passion I despise Latavia with. She was doing well, living happily ever after with the man of her dreams. She even had a glow; from the outside looking in, she had it all—the house, the car, and a man who loved the smell of her funky draws. Why would you mess that up? Simple bitches wouldn’t know a good thing if it slapped them in the face. Fortunately enough for Latavia, she won’t have to wait very long. Reality is about to pimp-slap her silly ass into a coma right next to her husband. She couldn’t enjoy what she had. She had to disrupt what I had and mess with what’s mine, and I, Sharon Kirkland, also known as Mahogany, refuse to sit back and allow that to happen.

  Braxton loves me! I am not concerned about what anyone else says or how they feel about the situation either. His pride and ego just have him all messed up in the head, thinking he’s still in love with Latavia, when in actuality, he never really loved her. If he loved her so much, he never would have put a ring on my finger. Now he calls himself filing for divorce. I ain’t signing a thing. When we said our vows before God and our family, we said “until death do us part,” and as you can see, both of us still have blood running warm through our veins. In other words, the only way out of this marriage is his, or hers, body bags.

  Yes, I was the rebound in high school because his precious Latavia wouldn’t give him any, but that was over twenty years ago, and he married me, not her. Quiet as it’s kept, he was and is my first and only. When Braxton caught me in bed with Mark, it wasn’t what he thought it was. It was staged to make him jealous. The only thing Mark did was taste my honey bun and he couldn’t even get that right. I know it was childish of me, but I was left with no other choice.

  The heartache from us losing two babies caused me to fall into a serous bout of depression. This put a wedge in our relationship, and most importantly, our sex life. When we did have sex, it was always in the dark, and Braxton only wanted it from the back. That cut me to the core; it was emotionless, and I assumed he didn’t want to look at me. It wasn’t like that in the beginning. If I wasn’t so caught up with being the perfect wife and being better than Latavia, I would have two beautiful children and my husband at home. But no, she had to flood my man’s thoughts. This is all her fault and she will pay!

  I have never let Latavia out of my sight or watch ever since high school, especially when Braxton and I got married. He was obsessed with popping all of the virgins’ cherries he could in our early years, and I knew this when we first got together. The other girls didn’t give him head and couldn’t handle that enormous delicacy of a dick he has, but I made sure to be different and give him what they didn’t and couldn’t. I knew from first sight he was mine. So, you see, our loss had him reminiscing about everything he missed out on. Latavia is just on his to-do list because he lost out on bursting her rotten cherry.

  Braxton and I are soul mates, and Latavia is just a distraction. Our turmoil has his thinking all screwed up and he can’t think straight. He has always loved me and always will; he’s just thinking with the wrong head. The crazy thing about it is, little does he know, he was never going to be able to take her virginity in the first place. The way Nariah tells it, her father was smashing it long before my beloved came into the picture. Clearly it’s obvious, he is delusional and can’t see past his penis; that’s understandable—have you seen the size of that thing? But that’s why God created Eve and women—we are here to be helpmates to our men, and I’m going to help my mate see the truth—one way or the other.

  Chapter Thirty ~ Nae’s Disappearing Act

  Even if you hide yourself from the world,

  don’t lose sight of your real nature.

  — Japanese Proverb

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  Being in this house for the past five days straight has me a bit claustrophobic. Maybe I should go check on Elite. Tae probably thinks I’m crazy. I just didn’t feel like being bothered with anything or anyone after my chocolate fix. My television and phone have been off for a week now. The only entertainment I had was Jack Daniels, my iPod, and sleep. I have barely eaten anything, now that I think about it. This must be what depression feels like, and I am so over it right about now. Turning on the television, I decide to watch News 12 to try to get reacquainted with the real world that I’ve been shutting out and hiding from.

  “Breaking News, off-duty police officer Darnell Carter remains in critical-but-stable-condition after the tragic accident that almost took his life. We’ll have more on this tragic story as it unfolds. Tune in tonight at six p.m. for more coverage,” the newscaster reports.

  “Wait a minute! What in the world did she just say?” I ask myself. “Why didn’t anyone call me? Is Tae all right?”

  A million questions flood my head as I run into my bedroom to throw some clothes on. Tears are now cov
ering my face. I can’t believe I’ve been sitting in this damn house all of this time and my Tae could be lying up somewhere fighting for her life. I need to get myself together and head over to the hospital; no matter if it’s her or Darnell hurt, she’s up there.

  “Shit, shit, shit! Darnell has my keys and my damn car!” I scream.

  I really can’t believe no one bothered to contact me about my car in all of these days, and most importantly, about Darnell and/or Tae being in an accident. It sounds serious the way it was spoken of. I just hope Tae isn’t still in her feelings. Powering up my phone to try to get some answers before I lose my mind, I am alerted that I have a gazillion missed calls and voicemail messages. It looks like I decided to go missing-in-action at the wrong time. Hell, Tae knows where I live if she couldn’t get through on the phone. Strolling through my missed calls, I suddenly realize zero of them are from Tae, and the majority are from unknown numbers except the ones from Nard. I have no idea who these people are who have been calling me.

  “You have one message whose retention time is about to expire. You have thirty-five new messages. You have nine saved messages. First new message: Nariah Westbrook, this is Detective Torres from the seventh precinct. It is urgent that you return this call. I can be reached at 917-555-2000. Thank you,” the message said.

  “What in God’s name is going in?” I cry.

  Knock knock knock!

  “Who is it?” I yell, swinging the door open.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am, we’re looking to speak with a Nariah Westbrook. I am Detective Torres and this is Detective Griffin,” one of the officers says as they present their badges.

  “I’m Nariah. Please come in,” I reply, moving to the side to allow them entrance.