WHAT'S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT WHEN CARMA'S INVOLVED?

TREINTA Y CUATRO

“There's my handsome son. Your court appearance went well?”

“Pending DNA.”

“Did your friend accompany you?” Mom chose her words wisely because Dad was within earshot.

It doesn’t matter who is around. Mom learned to be cautious when speaking. All hell would break loose if heavily guarded family secrets fell into the wrong hands. That's a lesson my siblings and I forget on a minute-to-minute basis. Thankfully, secrets meant to destroy haven't done so, yet. Harmoney is my secret. No matter what happens between us, I prefer to keep her a top secret. If Carma found out, the sh*t would hit the fan. People might look at Harmoney differently or her career could tank. She shouldn’t suffer all because I followed in Carma's footsteps and went the dirty route.

Refusing to answer Mom’s question was like holding up a giant red flag. The more she pushed, the more I shoved. I wanted to talk about last night with someone. A grown man describing to his mommy in vivid detail how badly s*x had gone with his lover is too creepy even for me. Mom wore me down, and I got to the nitty-gritty.

I peeped Harmoney coming off the elevator and went to welcome her home. She looked worse for wear. What could’ve happened at the office to make her look like she’d been caught in a storm? I don’t know. Her bag slid from her shoulder and dropped to the floor spilling its contents. She let the bag in her other hand drop as well. Next thing I know, she’s stomping in my direction. I underestimated her physical strength. When she pulled my arm, I nearly fell from the unnecessary roughness.

In my room she said coitus was a go. The head I should always listen to said, "Harmoney is acting strangely." The one standing at attention said, "we’re getting lucky fool don’t question it." Normally she moans, tightens her legs around my waist, or claws at my back. I got nothing. Nada. Zero. Zilch. For fck’s sake, I nailed her so hard there were specks of blood on the comforter. A good lover cares enough to ask what went wrong, learn from it, and rectify it. Using some bullsh*t line to avoid answering me j*rked me off to no end.

I didn’t believe her. Harmoney picked up her clothes, threw a disgusted look my way and left. Following her would've resulted in me saying the dumbest fcked up sh*t my upset mind could produce. The situation frustrated me. I slammed my bedroom door so hard it split. My fcking ego blew apart. There hadn’t been a dissatisfied female in a very long time. Harmoney’s failure to achieve is a blemish on my current record.

Still nude, I sat on the corner of the bed with my head in my hands to think. Did her attraction to me finally run its course? It does happen. Did I not do something right this time or did I fail to do something she enjoyed before? Did she freak because I wanted to know why she didn’t score her only goal? There it was. In front of my face the entire time. She's a lesbian. I guess a person can only overlook the truth for so long.

I’m a bad influence. I am blessed with the ability to persuade women into acting as they normally wouldn’t. Knowing that didn’t stroke my ego the way it used to. The highlights of my early s*xual years consisted of females believing they had been granted the privilege of throwing me into manhood. Many offered their hind end to save the other hole for their future husband. Somewhere along the way, Harmoney became the persuasive one, and I became powerless to resist. I am used to the fakeness of females in the world I grew up in. Harmoney's realness caused me to fall head over heels, despite the lack of reciprocation.

Mom heard none of that. It is for your benefit. I did tell her this, “All you need to know is I made an executive decision. It will benefit one of us and the other will have to live with it.”

“Which is which, Alixxander?” Mom is riled up.

“I'm not sure.”

“Boy, I swear to all that is holy, I did not raise you to be stupid.” She’s been with Dad for far too many years. When she's angry, she turns into him.

It must be nice to find your forever person early on in life, like my parents found each other. Times change and women aren’t the find a husband and settle down to start a family type anymore. They want careers before any of the other stuff. They want to travel instead of being tied down with kids and responsibilities. My heart can no longer deal with the disappointment of women claiming to be someone or something they are not. I am ready and willing to settle down right now. Females these days want to party hearty. The unexpected crash in another room drew our attention. Mom followed the sound of glass breaking and crash after crash. We saw Dad in his office tearing it apart.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” Disheveled and sweating, Dad looked at her menacingly.

“THAT FCKIN' PIG KILLED HER.” I looked at Mom for an answer. She shrugged like me when she refused to speak.

“Who killed her? And who is her, Dad?”

“PATRICK TRAVERS. IT WASN'T ENOUGH HE R*PED THAT INNOCENT GIRL. NOOOO. HE FCKIN' KILLED HER AND TRIED TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE A SUICIDE.” Why did that name sound familiar?

“Oh, sweetheart. Her parents must be devastated.”

“ALIXX, I DON'T CARE WHAT IT TAKES. YOU AND MISS SANCHEZ ARE GOING TO PUT THAT SCUMBAG COP BEHIND STEEL BARS WHERE HE BELONGS. IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO HIM WHILE AWAITING TRIAL, WHO THE FCK CARES.”

Then it hit me. It’s Harmoney’s case. I know of it, but nothing about it. The cop’s name floated among those in the justice system. So did plenty of rumors and misinformation. I am disgusted with myself. Wanna bet I made the biggest mistake of my life.

A bottle of scotch and an hour is what it took to quiet Dad down. When it comes to atrocities against children, my family are not the ones to mess with. We do everything in our power to follow the legal avenue, but sometimes the law fails to make the guilty pay. When that happens, favors owed get redeemed.

I returned home to find a small box with a letter in front of my door. It’s from Harmoney, obviously. The box contained the cell phone and the letter read:

Mr. Savage,

You will be happy to know my stance on representing you during this challenging time has not changed. In fact, it is my pleasure to free you from the tentacles of the sea urchin you married and impregnated. Even considering a friendship would further complicate our stormy, tumultuous, and checkered past. Colleagues is pushing it as well. To preserve your reputation and mine, I will act cordially and with respect. Be warned, if we find ourselves alone, the same courtesy may not be applied. It has come to my attention that the cell phone is not a company phone. While a generous gesture, I cannot accept it. Furthermore, we are neighbors. I am not the neighbor you ask to borrow a cup of sugar. Please, stay on your side of the hallway. Thank you.

Harmoney didn’t bother to sign it. I looked back, hoping to see if she cared enough to see my reaction. My apartment still smelled of her and it depressed me. A hot shower sounded like the beginning of a great night. Everyone says or does stupid things in their youth. Besides women dropping my name everywhere, the stupidest thing I’ve done is.... Gotcha. I’ve done more than my share of stupid things. Fck it, I’ll tell you one Evan dared me to do. We knew this lesbian couple, and they were fun to hang out with. They were great people. One night, I’d had too many and Evan dared me to hit on them. Long story short, I promised my d**k would fix their obvious s*xual deficiency. After being with Harmoney, I can confidently say one will remain straight for long.

ONE WEEK LATER......

Dad extended an olive branch for me to return to work. It’s probationary. He wants as many free hands on deck to help with the Iverson case. I thought it meant I’d be working with Harmoney closely. She’s not speaking to me. We exchange emails or she goes through Kimmie. Today's email didn’t require me to travel and hand-deliver documents, but I needed to see how she is doing for myself. I rapped on the door for attention. She looked up, I smiled and got nothing in return but her pen pointing to the 'in' box as she went back to work.

I took a shot in the dark and figured since she requested my banking statements, we might chit-chat, and I would learn why she needed five years’ worth and what she is looking for. During part of the five-year period, Travis and Carma were together. I give up guessing her motives or thoughts. I never get one right anyway.

Good news came in the form of me being able to pick up NGBB. The letters on my license plate for my Ferrari. Never Gettin' Blue Balls. Skeeter’s Towing caused more damage between the tow and storage than my wife. When my insurance company was through with them, they were not particularly happy with the repair costs. Neither was I, but it didn't come out of my pocket. Richie is always available, so I dragged him with me to pick my baby up. We cruised around for hours, stopped for dinner, and had a grand old time fcking off.

The fun stopped when Harmoney’s name popped up on the screen. I’m surprised she didn’t outsource whatever she had to say to a call center overseas. Still afraid, I told Richie to answer it.

“Alixx’s Ferrari, this is Richie. How may I direct your call?”

“Good evening. I'm calling to inform Alixxander....” I missed how she pronounced my name with the slight accent of hers. It conjured my undeniable love for her. “His wife is in premature labor. Her lawyer called to ask if he would like to attend the birth of his child.”

“You tell that skank my brother isn't going anywhere near her.”

“I will be there to accompany your brother. Plus, he could provide a swab and all three samples could be sent to and received by the lab at the same time.”

Before my brother said anything else, I piped up. “You'll meet me there?”

“She's at Mass General. I'm waiting in the parking lot.”

“Thank you, Miss Sanchez. I'll see you shortly.”

“Bro, come on. You ain't hit that yet?”

“No, bro. Talk about unprofessionalism. When are you going to learn we are not alike? Dad would kill me if he found out I messed around with anyone he hired. My nuts and I are close, I'd like to keep them.”

“For a fat chick, bro, she looks like she'd be tons of fun. Ya know what I mean?”

Acting as if the derogatory comments don’t bother me and wanting to put his face through the floor for making them is a tight rope to walk. If I showed aggression, it would prove what he already assumes. I compromised and jacked on the brakes when no cars were around. He's lucky his seatbelt locked up. I would have busted a nut if he ate my dash.