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  PROLOGUE

  Jovie

  New Year’s Eve 2005

  Protected by the warmth of the heavy goose-down comforter, I found myself feeling safe for the first time in years. As I watched the reddish orange flames bursting from the fireplace, I longed to be a little girl again, taking piggyback rides on my father’s back. Love was simple back then. Love didn’t hurt.

  As the fire died down, so did my feelings of security.

  What had I done with my life?

  I lay still until I heard the sultry voice of Meshell Ndegeocello belting out the words to “Fool of Me.”

  That song was a click-on switch to my most intimate feelings. I sang along: “ ‘You made a fool of me / Tell me why. . . .’ ”

  I felt frightened and weak in the sudden darkness that had consumed the spacious brownstone apartment. I started crying softly, afraid that if I really did let go, I might not be able to stop. Slowly, I stood up and looked in the mirror. I was completely naked.

  You’re too skinny! a voice inside my head shouted as I covered myself with his T-shirt.

  He smells so good. . . . I argued, then I sprayed myself with his cologne.

  You’re pathetic! that mean voice again cried out.

  The New Year’s cheers coming from outside sounded eerie. Like the theme music in a horror movie. A movie that I’d write an ending to. My father told me that I had to make the end always justify the means. Up until now I had no clue what that really meant. Or if I’d ever be able to use such a philosophy and apply it to my life. Now I seemed able to appreciate everything in a philosophical way.

  I’m so alone. . . .

  I felt his presence way before I heard his footsteps. He was home and he wasn’t alone. I heard a soft giggle. A woman’s giggle . . . flirty and sophisticated.

  I hate you, bitch!

  The anxiety I felt inside my stomach was mounting, and I knew the only way to release this was to explode. I wanted closure. I needed closure. My hands trembled as I wrapped them around my shoulders to comfort me because I knew the inevitable.

  Why wasn’t there ever anybody there to comfort me?

  In my bare feet, I crept to the bedroom closet and hid. There I’d finally get all the answers to my thought-provoking questions. Finally, it’d only be him and me . . . and her. With nowhere to run.

  I thought he said he loved me!

  London

  New Year’s Eve 2004

  Notting Hill, England

  This was the last night of the “Larger Than Life” tour. I was hired to bodyguard a rapper, Bugsy, who’d recently got into an altercation with another rapper. The media covered the story and magnified the whole situation. Now they’re both sending death threats by way of no-name, nondescript flunkies. It’s unfortunate that they aren’t wise enough to learn from their predecessors. But fortunately enough for me, their gripes are what keep me employed. I hate to admit that I wish I was able to stay on the job—the first-class incentives have spoiled me. But he’s going into seclusion to spend time with his family. I guess I can handle being without a job for a moment. I’m certain another client will come along soon enough. If not, I’ll still be fine. Besides, being a bodyguard is only for paying bills. My life’s passions are writing and painting.

  Since the last part of Bugsy’s tour was in England, I had arranged for my longtime girlfriend, Su, to come over so we could spend New Year’s Eve together. It’s been a long time-honored tradition in my family that whomever you spend New Year’s Eve with is most likely to be the person you’ll be with for the rest of the new year. I was anticipating spending the rest of my year with Su. She and I had been dating for two years, and I was madly in love with her. She was sassy, classy, sexy and vivacious. She was everything any man could ever want in a woman.

  I recently spent my last eight thousand dollars on her engagement ring, so money has been a little tight for me lately. I’m going to pop the question just as the new year comes in. My brother, Lawrence, would say that’s a stupid move. He’d complain about me spending all my money on Su. From the first day they met they’ve never gotten along. She complains that all my brother does is use me. And he complains that all Su does is use me. If I’m not complaining, then why are they?

  Su worries about money and bills more than she should. She’s a twenty-five-year-old law student with an insurmountable student loan. I try to help her out financially as much as I can, but it’s just never enough. I’ve also tried to explain that once I sell my screenplay we’re going to be financially secure. My agent says he’s getting pretty good responses to my work. Once I sell the screenplay, I can pay off all my debts, Su’s debts, plus provide a decent lifestyle for us.

  I looked at Su, sleeping peacefully. She looked like an exotic doll, with her petite body and massive head of jet black hair. She had a small button nose and pouty lips that drove me crazy. She had purposely laid the sheets so they were barely covering her naked body. Her cocoa-colored skin was glowing, and she had a slight smile on her face. I hoped that smile had come from our making love last night. I kissed her luscious lips and she moved slightly, exposing her perky breasts. I climbed back into bed and began sucking her breasts until I heard her moan. Just as I was about to part her thighs, there was a knock at the door. I ignored it until it became a persistent banging. Shit! I’d have to answer it.

  “Don’t you move,” I said, and kissed her forehead.

  I ran to open the door, and just as I suspected, there he was, Bugsy.

  “Whaddup?” Bugsy stated.

  “Hey, man, is everything all right?” I asked, even though I really didn’t care.

  “Everything is cool. Why? Your bitch-ass wasn’t gonna do shit,” he bellowed in his grandiose tone. Sometimes I think about what it would feel like to let my fist smash through his smug face. But it was only a fleeting thought. On any other night I would have checked him. But I wanted tonight to be special. I didn’t want any distractions or hostility on the night I was going to propose to Su.

  Bugsy stood about five-five, but he had presence. He was wearing the obligatory rapper’s gear—a button-up shirt, baggy jeans, Scooby-Doo shoes, a large-faced watch, diamond earring and a low-cut Caesar.

  “Don’t make me have to get my forty-five,” I said jokingly, but I really meant every word. My pride made me challenge him but, truthfully, I was hoping he wasn’t fool enough totest me.

  “Get your shit. I got one, too,” Bugsy warned.

  “No, seriously, what can I do for you?”

  My eyes hooded over and I bit the inside of my cheek. This brother was pushing all the wrong buttons. “You got a gun,” I said in a deceptively calm voice. “But the question is, will you use it?”

  Sensing tension, Bugsy began to relax. “You know I’m only fucking with you. I came by to ask if you and Su wanted to join us later. Everyone is going to the clock at Trafalgar Square to watch the fireworks. It’s tradition out here. Then we’re going to hop on the Concord and head back to New York and bring in the new year twice in one night. You know I do it real big.”

  Before I could respond, Su came out of the bedroom, clad in a silk robe that just barely covered her sexy rear end. Her boobs peeked out, looking for attention.

&nbs
p; “Celebrate the new year twice in one year . . . that would be love-ly,” she said, putting on a fake British accent.

  Bugsy grinned, then replied. “Dat’s what’s up. So, y’all hangin’ out or not?” he asked, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring directly at Su, who, if I wasn’t mistaken, was licking her lips and arching her back seductively. Was I just being a paranoid, insecure man who didn’t trust his beautiful girlfriend?

  I intervened. “Nah, man, we can’t hang out. I’ve made other plans. Su, I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but I wanted to spend the new year at Westminster watching the fireworks there. I’ve also made dinner arrangements. I want tonight to be special.”

  “Bugsy, this bloke wasn’t listening to you,” she said, disrespecting me.

  “Excuse me,” I said, as my face tightened and my eyes grew small from anger. “Since when do I have to listen to Bugsy?”

  “London, we have a chance to full-on do something exciting. I’d rather hang out with Bugsy and get VIP treatment. Since we’re here, we may as well do things ‘big,’ as Bugsy just said.”

  “Why are you speaking like that?” I asked, referring to her newfound British roots.

  “Like what?” she asked, looking perplexed with my question.

  “Look, the subject isn’t up for debating! I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make tonight special for us—”

  “Listen, you players don’t need to get into any beef over me. The invitation is open for the both of y’all. Holla,” Bugsy said, and left.

  Once he was gone, I flipped. “Goddamn! You should have just come out here with nothing on.”

  “What are you talking about?” she said, playing dumb.

  “Were you getting ready to perform or something? Maybe give him a lap dance? I know Bugsy got a few hit singles out,” I said sarcastically. She just looked at me and rolled her eyes. Before I could probe her further, the telephone rang.

  “Hell-o!” I screamed into the receiver.

  “What’s wrong with my baby brother? That ho got you stressed out?” my brother, Lawrence, remarked.

  “Watch your mouth! Listen, this is a bad time. What do you want?”

  “I need some cash quickly. Could you wire me three hundred dollars?”

  “I don’t have it right now. I’m broke,” I said.

  “I’ll give it right back as soon as you get home. I need some money for the new year.”

  “I just told you that I don’t have any currency.”

  “Listen, I wouldn’t call if I weren’t in a bind. I’m dead broke. I bet you done spent all your money on that Prada-wearing hoochie!”

  “You have one more time to disrespect Su before you see my bad side,” I warned. “The most I can spare is about one hundred. Is that good enough?”

  “That’ll do.”

  As soon as I hung up Su tore into me.

  “I know you’re not going to give that no-good, lousy, begging, son of a bitch—”

  “I’m a grown man, Su. I do what the fuck I want! Now, I already told you that when you and I get into it to leave my family out of it!”

  “What?” she yelled. “Fuck your mother! And fuck your brother, too!”

  “Watch your fucking mouth!” I screamed. “You’re acting like a groupie bitch who’s looking to start an argument. I see you. I know what this is about. But do what you do.”

  “I’ll be a groupie, but the only bitch in the room is you!” she countered.

  “I see how this is going down. That brother got your mind,” I stated and lifted my eyebrow up in astonishment. Up until now, Su and I have never spoken to each other so harshly. And I had to admit that as a man I was hurt. But my pride refused to let me show it.

  “Oh, so now I’ve lost my mind?” she said, shaking her head in bewilderment.

  “That’s what I said!” I replied through gritted teeth.

  “So, if I’m a groupie, and you’re a bitch,” she said, unable to let this go, “who’s getting fucked tonight?”

  “You tell me!” I yelled as my stomach did a few somersaults. I didn’t like the way this argument was heading. I had big plans for us tonight.

  “Please, London. Don’t sit up in my face and act all innocent like I’m out of control. How many women have you slept with while we were together?”

  I feared questions like that. True, I hadn’t been faithful to Su, but I didn’t love her any less. I’ve been tempted on more than one occasion. I thought quickly and tried to salvage the rest of the evening. “Listen, I think this is going too far. Why are we even arguing? I mean, what’s this about?”

  “This is about you putting the b in broke, the l in loser, and the p in pathetic. I’m so sick of you always trying to control me. I don’t know what type of woman you thought you had, but my name ain’t Subservient Su!”

  “I never said it was,” I replied, almost in surrender. My submissiveness only fueled her fire.

  “A moment ago you had a lot to say. A moment ago I was just a million bitches.”

  “I apologize. I should have never called you outside of your name,” I said, trying to manipulate the situation. I needed her to fold and let me win.

  “No, don’t apologize because I see the real you. You’re unsure of yourself. You’re flaky. You come off as this heartless, cocky bastard like you’re hot shit but inside you’re soft like butter. I guess you’ve never gotten the memo that states you can’t fuck, you got a little dick and your tongue game is lousy! If you were handling your business you wouldn’t feel threatened every time I’m in the room with eye candy,” she spat.

  Her words hurt. “Wow, that was below the belt. All this for a rapper who fucks chicks in the bathroom at restaurants. I guess you’re next in line,” I said, as the reality of the situation started to sink in. I never knew Su had the effrontery to say what she’d said.

  “You mean first. I’m never second to anyone!” she yelled before storming off into the bedroom. I could clearly see her getting dressed to go meet up with Bugsy.

  “If you walk out that front door, don’t come back!” I threatened.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she challenged.

  Needless to say, I didn’t hang around my hotel room waiting for her not to come back. I downed a couple shots of Hennessey from the mini bar in my room and tried not to think about how the love of my life had walked out on me. As far as I was concerned, it was her loss. I hopped on the tube and rode to Notting Hill Gate.

  It was a cold, dank night, and all I was wearing was a heavy sweater and a thick scarf to cover my neck. I walked up the cobblestone pathway and stumbled into a small bar that had a live band with an attractive young girl singing Nina Simone tunes. Her voice was mesmerizing. Sad and gloomy, it personified my mood. She had these great eyes that burned holes in my flesh when she focused on me. Loose curls framed her oval-shaped face. Her skin was a French vanilla color with just a sprinkle of cinnamon. She looked good enough to eat—literally.

  After the set she came out and sat in the crowd. I took this opportunity to go and make her acquaintance. She looked almost frightened as I approached.

  “Hello, my name’s London, and I just wanted to say you have the most amazing voice I’ve ever heard.”

  “Thank you,” she said and avoided eye contact.

  “You’re an American.”

  “So are you,” she chimed in.

  “Yes. And I can’t wait to go back to the States.”

  “Me, too. I’m just here to make some extra money. I go back in two days.”

  “Great. Do you mind if I buy you a drink?”

  “I don’t drink.”

  “Neither do I,” I lied. “But we should have at least one drink to celebrate the new year coming in. It’s tradition,” I said, and then signaled to the waitress. “I’d like two glasses of champagne. . . .”

  “That’ll be forty pounds,” she said.

  Thirty minutes later I was smashed and telling this poor stranger all my business.

>   “We were supposed to get married,” I said, slurring my words. “I’ll kill him if he lays a hand on my Su.”

  “You poor thing,” she sympathized.

  “She’s the love of my life, and she walked out on me,” I cried.

  “That’s unfortunate,” she said, and gently rubbed my hand. “But I must really get back to my hotel.”

  “Stay. In five minutes it’ll be the new year. You know they say whomever you ring the new year in with is probably the person you’ll spend the whole year with.”

  “Really? I’ve never heard that before.”

  “Yeah, it’s a fact.”

  “Well, that wouldn’t apply to us, would it? I just met you,” she said, but there was a yearning in her voice if I wasn’t mistaken.

  So I humored her and said, “We’ve just met. It doesn’t mean we couldn’t get to know each other better.”

  My comment must have unnerved her because she squirmed in her seat.

  “Five, four, three, two, one . . . Happy New Year!” The whole bar erupted in New Year’s cheer. I grabbed the stranger, picked her up in a bear hug, swung her around and then planted a fat, wet kiss on her lips. Inwardly, I wished she was Su. She looked at me with a blank expression, pushed me off of her and ran out of the bar. That was twice in one night that I’d been left by a beautiful woman. And I hadn’t even gotten a chance to ask her name.

  Jovie

  November 2005

  How can I explain that it was the pleasure that frightened me? I celebrated my twenty-fourth birthday as a virgin. I never planned for my life to unfold in such a dull manner. I always wanted to think outside the box, but my shyness put limitations on my actions. I kept having this recurring dream of lost love. In my dreams my lover was a strong, articulate, sensual man. But at the rate I was going, I’d never meet him. When I was approached by the opposite sex, I pushed them away. Sadly, I didn’t think there was one man on this earth that could ever meet my high expectations. So rather than deal with disappointment, I played it safe by guarding my heart.