Page 13 of Mr. On Your Knees
“Just like you knew I wasn’t him, that I wasn’t either of them.” He tried to keep his voice even to tamp down on that same fury that always welled up in him when he realized she’d put him in the same category as her ex and her father.
“But you were doing what they did. It was the beginning, Jared and I vowed that I’d never have a third strike. That I’d be in control of the ending the next time.”
Chapter6
The Kiss
DESI
The gallery was a two-story rectangular shaped building with a breathtaking mural of colors and places, people and items. All things that represented the Black culture, all things that screamed we are royalty, we are family, we are a legacy.
“A friend of mine, Manny Fields, owns this place. I’ve bought a few pieces for my living room and dining room from here,” Jared spoke as they walked across the parking lot and through the front doors of the gallery.
He hadn’t said anything to reply to her last statement and she was equal parts glad and disappointed. She’d told him earlier that she didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to take a walk through all their memories when in reality she knew there was no way they could work with each other and not remember their past. Hell, she hadn’t been able to forget in the years that she’d been away from him, so it made sense that being a couple feet away from him would certainly keep all that pain and turmoil bubbling at the surface. Truth be told, it had always been lying there, waiting. For today?
After letting her go through the door first, he circled around her and led the way to the front desk. “Hey, Jackie,” he spoke to the slender woman with a bundle of black locs piled high on her head. “I told Manny I’d be coming by today to finalize the collection.”
“Hey, Jared. Yes, he told me.” She stood and came around the desk, smiling up at Jared as he folded her into a hug.
“It’s been a minute since you’ve had time to stop by,” she said when they broke the hug. “Your assistant and that other lady from the hotel, I think her name’s Mary or something like that. They’ve been here a couple times in the past few weeks, but not you, Mr. Handsome.”
Jackie was older than both her and Jared. The only reason Desi knew that—because the make-up on her deep mocha complected face was impeccable and she moved her very toned body with the fluid and grace of a young dancer—was by the wrinkled skin of her hands. There were rings on each of Jackie’s fingers, some big, some small, all of them silver, and a stack of silver bangles started at her left wrist and climbed up her arm. Her short nails were painted a nude color, but the shriveled skin of her hands was unmistakable.
While so many women focused on maintaining their figure and their face throughout the aging process, rarely any of them focused on their hands. Not that there was much that could be done, Desi thought. But it was always a dead giveaway to her.
“And who’s this pretty lady you have with you today?” Jackie asked, snapping Desi out of her perusal of the woman. “I don’t think I ever recall you bringing a date through those doors.”
“Oh, this isn’t a date,” Desi said and knew her quick words had come too fast. Her denial too obvious to be true. Even though it really was.
Both Jared and Jackie stared at her. The woman with a faintly amused look and Jared with a frown that barely masked what? Confusion? Hurt?
She looked away from him. He didn’t have a right to her empathy. Not one ounce of it after he’d stomped all over her heart by doing the one thing she’d expressly asked him not to do.
“Don’t cheat on me.” That’s what she’d said on their third date after he’d played with her pussy right in the middle of that dimly lit club, and they’d barely made it to his apartment before he had her back against the door, legs around his waist. “If we’re doing this, then it’s just me and you, Jared. If or when you want to change those terms all you have to do is say so and I’ll go.”
“Just me and you,” he’d said and crashed his mouth down on hers.
From that moment on they’d been inseparable. Dating, talking, and fucking every moment they weren’t at work. Their relationship had started fast and was filled with passion and emotion like she’d never imagined could be possible and then it had ended just as quickly.
“Desi,” he said her name as if he’d been calling her for a minute. “You coming?”
She blinked and stared at him, recalling how he’d rammed into her with the longest, thickest dick she’d ever experienced that long ago night. Right there with her against the door, he’d quickly freed his shaft, covered it with a condom, and then pushed her panties aside. Just like that he’d claimed her body. With one fierce thrust he’d buried himself inside her physically and mentally. She’d come after two more strokes and had lost count of how many other times she had that night.
“Yes,” she replied now and licked her lips. “I’m coming.”
She followed him and Jackie down a long hallway of pristine white walls and gorgeous portraits of beautiful Black people. Jackie wore Crocs with her long denim skirt and white blouse and Jared’s tie-up dress shoes made a soft clank on the floor. It was Desi’s four-inch-heel black platform pumps that made the loudest sound over the white tiled floor, echoing through that hallway in a way that seemed to disturb the quiet elegance of the portraits in their space.
The pumps were comfortable and went well with the purple wrap dress she wore. And neither Jackie nor Jared acted as if the noise bothered them at all. They just continued to walk until turning left down another hallway. This was a short walk as they almost immediately made a right turn into a room where Jackie had to switch on the light.
“There’s a total of forty-two,” Jackie said as she remained by the light switch near the doorway. “Manny said you requested specific artists, namely Jermaine DeKoka. His are over there.”
Jared crossed the room and Desi followed him to see which ones he was so intent on looking at. From behind she noted his broad shoulders and how well the expertly tailored suit fit him. The man had always had good taste in clothes, preferring to shop for his suits in the same upscale men’s shop he’d been going to since he was able to afford a suit without having to sacrifice one whole paycheck to pay for it. He liked dark colored suits, paired with white or light-colored shirts and coordinating ties. He wasn’t big on patterned ties, but when he did, they were usually thin stripes or really pale paisley. When he turned to stand in front of a picture, he pushed his jacket back and slipped one hand into the front pocket of his pants.
She came to a stop beside him.
“You two holler if you need me,” Jackie said and then she was gone.
Neither of them looked toward the door or said another word, but Desi knew they were alone. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the canvas Jared was staring at. Their eyes were closed—the man and the woman in the portrait. Only the top half of their bodies were featured, but they were embracing. His lips pressed to her forehead, her face tilting slightly up to his. The entire picture was shaded in black, brown and bronze, light dropping gorgeously over her high cheekbones and his forehead and chin. The color came in the brilliant flowers throughout her hair and on the jacket he wore. It seemed like such a simple picture and yet, it was saying so much: I cherish you. I yearn for you. I love you.
