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It is great well-writing story and it always has been. The characters and dialogues are fascinating and they open up a world for me that I would normally never be able to experience. Thanks
 
BMOC Chapter 48


News of Jay's "recovery" drew everyone to his bedside during those first days. When they learned he remembered very little of the past two years, most didn't care. The important thing, especially to those who loved him most, was Jay. His mother never let go of his hand once she saw her son and his father, the rugged man's man he proclaimed to be, bawled like a baby when he saw his boy conscious again. They just couldn't believe it. They had been led to believe that Jay might never come out of his coma. His parents immediately wanted to take him back home to St. Louis, but Jay bristled at the idea, especially since Eppi offered him the spare bedroom in her new apartment. He felt that he couldn't recover his memories anywhere but in Champaign, where he'd lost them. His parents didn't like the idea of him living with a young woman and although they didn't voice it, they also felt hurt that their son chose to recover under the care of someone he didn't even remember. Jay had not lost his headstrong determination; once he made up his mind, he could not be stopped. And so, throughout that summer, he and Eppi shared living space as well as time together.
Everyone assumed that the coma stole only the past two years of Jay's memory, but they soon learned that it affected him in other ways. To aid in his recovery process, Jay saw a neuro-psychologist, an occupational therapist and a physical therapist. He soon tired of the constant visits to the doctors' offices and in his frustration, refused to see the specialists one week. Eppi, Dre and other friends made a photo album with pictures taken during the past two years and per the occupational therapists suggestion, they tried to spend time discussing the who, what, when and where of each picture to help fill in Jay's lost memories. For Jay, the pictures served as evidence of a disability. No matter how much prompting he got, every time someone told a story and followed it with, "don't you remember," he didn't. After a few weeks of this, he asked them to put the album away - forever.
Sleep became problematic for him. On the rare nights that he actually drifted under, some strange images came to him, images he tried to suppress and deny as reality, but knew them to be true. Most of them revolved around Bruce. The two of them together. He recalled his confusion - and denial - of his longings for his boy but how ultimately, he gave into his desires. He couldn't rationalize what he did with Bruce, and now that his best friend was dead, he couldn't talk to him about it. He didn't even consider sharing it with any of the doctors. Dre noticed how moody and withdrawn his brother seemed since he'd been told about Bruce's death and his accident. He asked Jay if he wanted to talk about it.
"Not much to say," Jay said.
"You and Bruce were tight, D. Like brothers. Gotta be something to say," Dre replied.
"Yeah, well if I had something to say I'd say it to Bruce but his ass is dead, ain't he?" Jay got off the couch and paced. Dre was shocked by his brother's outburst and it showed on his face. When Jay looked at his younger brother, a wave of panic washed over him. The way Dre stared at him triggered a memory. It was his bedroom . Dre . and Bruce . and a sense of anger came to him like puzzle pieces, demanding his memory to construct the complete picture. It was too much for him. He groaned and hung his head, closing his eyes to the demanding memory.
"Jay? Hey, man you alright?" Dre came to his brother's side.
If Jay heard Dre, he gave no indication. He shook his head in an attempt to ward off the returning memory, but his effort was useless. Within minutes, the scene played out in his conscious like the trailer for an upcoming movie, highlighting all the action and the main events. He remembered the smug set of Bruce's jaw and how he groped his crotch proudly. And Dre, his shirt streaked and wet, smelling like a patch of grass, looked as afraid as a dog with his tail between his legs. Jay could not deny it. Bruce had gotten Dre, too. He stared at his brother but didn't know what to say. "I . I need to pick up a prescription at health service," he said suddenly.
"Jay, I don't think you should -"
"Fuck what you think!" Jay yelled. He took a deep breath. "Look, I just need to be alone right now, okay? Could you tell Eppi where I'm at if she comes home?"
Dre, too stunned by his brother's outburst and sudden attitude change, didn't object further or try to stop Jay from leaving. Even before the accident, he knew his bro to be volatile, particularly when it came to the things that made him uncomfortable: emotions, communication, sexuality. He couldn't help but wonder if Jay was remembering something relatable from the past two years. He wondered, too, how he could help his brother cope. They never arrived at a place where they could discuss their sexuality openly and Dre didn't think it'd be any easier this time around. Their father had marked his sons in such a way that Dre doubted he'd ever be able to freely talk about sexuality with his brother. He longed for the type of open communication he shared with his older brother Omar, but he and Jay's never connected that way.
Trying to focus on more positive thoughts, Dre called Maleek on his cell phone. "What you doing?" Dre asked, his voice deep, low and suggestive.
Maleek, who was exhausted from pleasing both a client and Dre the night before, still lie in his bed. He wasn't fully awake. "Nothing. What about you?"
"Just thinking about you." Dre twirled the phone cord around his fingers. "We burned last night, baby. Think we can do it again tonight?"
"No doubt. Gimme a time."
"Time?" Dre asked. "What are you talking about?"
Maleek, drifting in and out of sleep as he talked on the phone, decided to put an end to the call. "Call me back when you got a time and a place," Maleek said before hanging up the phone. In his tiredness, he didn't bother placing the phone back on the hook.
Dre continued to talk into the phone, asking what Maleek was talking about. Then he heard the dial tone. He hung up and called back. The line, of course, was busy. What the hell was that all about? He wondered.
* * * * *
Leon curled the 50-pound barbell in his right hand, admiring the pulsating veins and muscles in his forearm. He spread his legs. Licked away tiny beads of sweat on his top lip. As he continued to perform curls, he felt a familiar heaviness in his bikini briefs. His dick hardened, sliding along his hairless, hard thigh until the head nearly poked out of his gym shorts. He interrupted his workout to stare at his erection. Then he looked directly across the room and into the eyes of tonight's inspiration: a chocolate drop brotha with average looks but an off-the-charts ass displayed to full effect in biker shorts so tight, they appeared two sizes too small. The brotha spent the past hour on his stomach, working out his calves. Leon was no fool - the brotha was advertising his juicy double bubble and Leon was definitely interested.
Business was steady as always. The past week, Leon saw an average of two clients each day. That evening was one of his self-scheduled "off days." He never hurt for cash or companionship, regardless of whether he was on or off the clock, but even he was no Energizer bunny. His off-days were a time to relax, tone up the body and treat it as the temple he knew it to be. The brotha across the gym was severely testing his abstinence.
Leon watched as his temptation stood up, mopped sweat from his forehead, slung the towel around his neck and briefly looked in his direction. A sly grin on his lips, he looked away so quickly, Leon realized he was trying to act coy. Leon shook his head. He returned to his curls, thinking that if he was going to have to do all the work, even an ass like that wasn't worth it.
"Excuse me." The voice flowed over his right shoulder.
He looked up. The face from across the room was now close enough to see in detail. Not bad, Leon thought, but nothing to get excited about. His eyes instantly drifted to the artwork hanging off the brotha's back. "Wassup?"
"Aren't you Deon Brown?"
Leon chuckled. He had to give the brotha courage for coming over, but that was as weak a line as he'd ever heard. He resumed his curls. "No," he replied simply.
The brotha seemed at a loss. He turned to walk away. Feeling generous and quite aroused by the sight of the brotha's bubble booty, Leon spoke to his retreating back. "Yo, what's your name?"
"Donny. Donny McClean," he said.
"Give me a minute. I'll walk you out," Leon said.
* * * * *
The pharmacy sat directly across from Student Health Services and like most university-run pharmacies, prescriptions were filled for a very small fee - in Jay's case, $15 for three. He hated taking the pills, hated what they represented: his accident, his memory loss, his "illness." But he needed an excuse to leave Dre. On his walk over, the memory continued to replay itself in his conscious. It hit him like a sucker punch in the stomach to think that his ace, his boy Bruce and his baby brother had messed around. He'd struggled with thoughts of Bruce and himself, but Bruce and Dre? If the rest of the memories of the last two years held these kinds of secrets, he'd be content staying in the dark.
There was something else. He dreamed of a face that he did not remember, but the feelings of nervousness and anticipation that the face created was very familiar - it was lust, a heavy jones. Trouble was, the face belonged to a dude. Jay struggled with that thought, let it weigh so heavily on his mind that he wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings and almost knocked down someone as he exited the pharmacy. "Oh, my bad," he said. "You okay?"
"Jay?"
He stared at the face of another beautiful sista he didn't remember. "Yeah," he said.
"It's me, Cherron," she said.
He smiled weakly, but didn't indicate any recognition of her name.
She hugged him anyway, but he made sure not to press her too close - her belly protruded just enough to give away her condition. "It's good to see you out of the coma," she said. "I only wish Bruce was here to see you."
He perked up at the mention of Bruce's name. "You knew Bruce." It was a statement, not a question.
Cherron chuckled. "Of course I knew Bruce." She rubbed her stomach. The reality of Cherron's situation dawned on Jay. He stared at her belly, mouth agape. "It's a baby, not fat." She laughed.
"Bruce's baby," he said.
Cherron nodded. "He didn't know. I found out too late." She half-smiled. "I didn't want to have it at first, you know? Raising a kid alone was not in the plan. But then I talked to Mrs. McLemore. Really talked to her. The first thing she asked me was, 'Did you and my son conceive this child in love?' I couldn't lie. I loved me some Bruce, you know. And he wasn't perfect but he loved me, too, in his way. So I told her yes. This baby was made through love. Once I realized that - I mean, really gave it thought - there was no choice to be made," Cherron said.
Jay listened to Cherron talking, but he didn't hear the words. He was thinking about Bruce, about the kinds of girls he used to like. Cherron was definitely his boy's type - light, bright and beauty queen beautiful. But this girl, unlike many of her predecessors, seemed to have true personality, irrespective of her beauty. He couldn't explain it, but he immediately felt protective of her. He smiled at her. She smiled, too. "Are you hungry?" he asked.
"Hungry?"
"Well, I was about to get some eats," he said. "If you weren't busy, I thought you might like to come with me. My treat."
"As long as its not Burger King," she said.
"Bruce's favorite," Jay said, lost in thought.
"Don't I know it. But this baby is not having that."
"The kid's got taste, then."
"He got it from me," Cherron said with a laugh.
The sound of her laugh made Jay smile from inside out. He continued smiling as he watched Cherron walk up to the pharmacy tech to retrieve her prescription. So Bruce will live on, he thought with a smile.
 
Donny pawed the back of Leon's thighs and his ass as he buried his face in the buff brotha's crotch. Leon always took off his boxers when he hit the gym and since he hadn't bothered to change after his workout, only the flimsy material of his gym shorts separated Donny from his bone-hard dick. Donny's lips gnawed along the length of it, using the heat of his mouth and tongue to further arouse Leon. He didn't have to work hard to do that. The harder he gnawed and nipped at Leon, the more Leon moaned, arching his back, standing on the tips of his toes and gripping Donny behind the head to smother him in his crotch. "Damn, you really want this dick don't you?"
Donny stared up at him and licked his lips. Leon slid his hands inside the elastic waistband of his gym shorts and without breaking eye contact with Donny, slowly lowered them. It was a sensory treat - the trail of raven pubic hair that grew into a clipped bush surrounding the masterpiece, a 9-inch mocha choke stick as wide across as Leon's wrist and almost as thick; the scent of dried sweat, the musk of Leon's uncut pinga and its secretions; the feel of the rigid muscle in Donny's hands and most fulfilling of all, the taste of it in his mouth: steel bitter with a sweet-n-sour tang that became sweeter as Leon's pre-cum flowed. And flow it did, as Donny relaxed his jaw and slid his suctioning lips and tongue down the shaft. Try, try, try he did, but Leon was much too thick to take into his throat, so he concentrated on tongue lashing and lip locking a comfortable mouthful.
"That's it, bitch. Get it nasty wet," Leon said. Never one to sit back and give up control, he held onto the back of Leon's head and forced himself, painfully, into Donny's throat. Choking, gasping and spitting, Donny gripped Leon's thighs, digging his fingernails into the flesh. Leon was so amped by the pleasure he got from face fucking Donny that he didn't notice. He was also exhausting some of his anger. He refused to admit it, but he was angry deep down in a space where he hid everything, and he owed it all to Dre. In two months, he hadn't heard from the shorty - and surely, he'd been waiting for the call. It was the first time that he found himself checking his caller ID, thinking that perhaps he'd missed the call and Dre was too scared to leave a message. He no longer temped in the art department's office, but accessing Dre's information was as simple as flirting with the ditzy brunette secretary. But he refused to go there. He didn't want Dre to know that he was that interested. Thinking of Dre just irked him now, and drove his frenzied dick feeding to Donny.
Donny's eyes watered from the assault, the tears eventually dampening the area around both eyes. He loved it, however. Loved the domination, the brutality. Leon reminded him so much of Bruce that he'd wanted to take him home and see if the sexing compared, too. So far, he thought, very good. The dick wasn't as long, but what it lacked in length it substituted (and then some) in width and thickness. The thought of it inside of him made Donny light with anticipation and just a touch of fear. He didn't know if he could hang, but he was going to give it his best try. Leon pulled him up and bent him over the arm of the sofa. He twice slapped Donny's ass hard, then dug both hands into the mounds of flesh, kneading and pinching as he teased his dick between them. Leon proceeded to open up Donny's boy pussy by digging his spit-slick thumb and two fingers inside, twisting, turning and clawing the tender flesh until it throbbed and retracted from his rough touch. Donny gripped a pillow on the sofa and buried his face in it. He took a mouthful of the pillow to suppress the groaning and crying that was building in his throat. He couldn't hold back when Leon began to jab three fingers in and out of his ass without mercy. "Aw, shit!. Ooww! Don’t please!,"
Leon chuckled while he tortured Donny's asshole. After he'd worked Donny's ass muscles into submission, he pulled up to the bumper and holding the cheeks apart, forced the head inside Donny. The sound that came from Donny's mouth was a mixture of scream and curse, but the message was clear, he was in definite pain. Leon kept the head in and waited. Tight and tough as Donny's ass muscles thought they were, he knew that eventually they'd have to relax. And when they did relax, he slowly but insistently slid the shaft past them, deep into Donny. Donny cursed, cried and begged for mercy, but Leon kept at it, building the tempo of his hips from slow and steady to fast and furious. It was a different feeling for Donny and he didn't know why. Then it suddenly dawned on him. Leon was fucking him raw. Without protection. "Wait!" He cried out.
Leon slowed his pace a bit. "What?"
"I don't get fucked raw. You . you gotta put on a rubber."
Leon was still inside of him. He knew that if a rubber really made a difference, Donny would stop him completely and insist. "Too late," he said, resuming his assault on Donny's asshole. Only now he was more pissed because of the interruption and took it out on Donny by pulling one of his arms behind his back as he dug deeper inside his ass. He was so large and moved so hard against Donny's ass muscles that he beat them into submission. Donny couldn't stop him from digging past all his barriers. The power of his well-muscled body slamming into Donny caused him to slide back and forth across the sofa arm. This built friction on his dick, which soon grew and hardened the more Leon fucked him across the arm of the sofa. The sensations alternated between back-splitting pain, complete fulfillment and teasing pleasure. Donny was near delirious when Leon's brutal fucking pushed his final button. Eyes closed, Donny shuddered and shook for almost a minute as he emptied his seed across his abdomen and onto the sofa.
Leon jabbed and stabbed onward. Had they been made of wood, the constant friction would have ignited them both. When he became combustible, Leon sped up more, using the balls of his feet to drive himself mercilessly into Donny. He exploded inside of Donny's ass with the force of a fire hydrant, then collapsed, all 200+ pounds of him, on Donny's back. Donny loved the weight of Leon, the complete domination he'd experienced in his hands. He wasn't even thinking of Bruce as he lie under Leon.
Leon, however, was still thinking of Dre. He'd wait it out, he figured. The summer would be over in a little over a month and with the start of fall classes, he knew he'd run into Dre eventually. Then it was on! He knew that what he'd done to Donny was just a rehearsal for the one-man show he'd perform on Dre's ass.
* * * * *
Eppi couldn't believe her eyes. Surely, that wasn't Jay walking down the center of the mall with HER at his side. As much as she wanted to deny reality, it was staring her right in the face. Jay and Cherron Gardner. And . she couldn't be sure from the distance, but it looked like Cherron had a knot in her belly. What? She just had to know what the hell that was all about. She was standing in line at Sbarro's for a slice of pepperoni pizza to go, but soon ditched the line and walked right up to Jay and Cherron as they approached the entrance of Ruby Tuesday's.
"Jay? I thought that was you," she said. "What are you doing here?" She didn't even look at Cherron or acknowledge her presence.
"Having lunch," he said. He liked Eppi, but her mothering was bordering on smothering. It was nice of her to offer her place and her time to help him recover his memories, but that didn't give her the right to be all in his business, he thought.
"Lunch? Well, I was just getting us something to eat."
"I ran into a friend at the pharmacy and invited her to have lunch with me."
"Friend?" Eppi finally cast her gaze in Cherron's direction.
"That's what he said," Cherron replied.
"Jay, you . you remember her?" Eppi asked.
"Not exactly," he said.
Eppi sighed in relief. She didn't know if she could handle Jay remembering somebody as forgettable as Cherron and forgetting someone as remarkable as herself. She decided to take a dig at her old nemesis. Rolling her tongue in her cheek, she looked down at Cherron's stomach. "So . what's up, girl? Putting on a few pounds, I see."
"Yeah, I am. I'm also pregnant if you're too stupid to figure that out."
"Oh, no. I got that part. And if anybody's stupid, it's you for letting a demon like Bruce plant his seed and then leave you to raise the spawn."
"Hey, hey, hey," Jay said. "Don't talk to her like that."
Cherron and Eppi's mouths dropped for different reasons. Cherron was pleasantly surprised by Jay's defense. Eppi was wounded by Jay's harsh tone and his reprimand. "She's no saint, Jay. You don't need to remember her to know that. Just look at her," Eppi replied.
Jay's jaw tightened. He didn't like this side of Eppi that she was intent on displaying today, in public no less. "Look. I appreciate you thinking of me, but I invited Cherron to have lunch with me and that's that. I'll see you at home later." He didn't wait for her response. He and Cherron went inside the restaurant.
Eppi stood watching their backs for several seconds. It felt like she's been punched in the chest. She didn't want Jay angry with her, especially over a nobody like Cherron, she thought. It wasn't so bad that he was having lunch with Cherron. Certainly nothing to get bent out of shape about, so Eppi didn't bother to press the issue. She decided to make it up to Jay. She'd cook a special dinner and buy him a gift, too. She felt almost giddy as she went gift-hunting in the mall. Her heart was full. As she stopped to smell the flowers at the florist shop, she resolved to stop fighting what she'd been feeling ever since Jay walked into her apartment almost two months ago. She thought that it was the way you felt about a friend you cared about deeply, but it was much more involved than that - seeing him with Cherron had proven that to her. She loved her some Jay Diggs and it was about time for her to do something about it.
 
BMOC Chapter 49

Donny let his head fall off the edge of his bed as he watched Leon washing up in his bathroom. There was something to be said about a buff-ass brotha soaping up his nuts over your face bowl! Donny eased up and stared, with a silly grin on his face. He was still hard, almost an hour after the fact. He hadn't realized how much his booty . er, body . needed attention until Leon took him there. He had most definitely missed going there . feeling a fist-hard dick pounding away at his tight ass and the orgasmic relief such a pounding gave him. Leon took him even beyond there. He reached down and fingered his swollen booty button, the slime of Leon's release coating his fingers.
There was a first time for everything and Leon had been the first to hit it raw. Donny never thought a condom made a difference in terms of sensation or pleasure, but his afternoon with Leon gave him a new way of looking at things. Not that sex without a condom was more pleasurable and not that it was less, although overall sex with Leon was an exercise in pain management - it was just different. What really made it an experience for Donny was the thought of it, the dangerous, dirty, taboo way they'd ignored caution and fucked like sewer rats. Condoms gave sex a distance, he realized, a clinical antiseptic quality. He never felt so . sexually alive . as he did with Leon digging inside of him, each warm vein and ridge of flesh pressed into his own.
A white rectangle sailed over his head, drawing him out of his thoughts. A card laid face down on his stomach. "What's this?" He asked.
Leon stepped into his shorts and pulled his short over his head. "My business card," he said.
"Business card?" Donny smiled. "What's your line of business?"
Leon smirked. "Pleasure."
"You can say that again," Donny said.
Leon ignored Donny's innuendo. "If you wanna hook up again, you gotta give me 24-hour notice. It's $150 an hour if I come back here, or $125 at my place.
"Waaaait a minute." Donny sat up in the bed, pulling the covers with him. "Are you serious?"
"About my money, hell yeah, I'm serious."
Donny's smile reversed itself. "But …. you don't expect me to pay for today? Or do you?"
Leon shook his head. "If you was gone pay, I'da got my dollars up front, so chill. Every now and then, I do a little free advertising. Today was your lucky day," he said.
Donny stared at Leon in disbelief. All the dreamy feelings he'd felt only a minute ago were gone, replaced by shame. He'd been fucked by a hustler . a male prostitute! Without a condom! Sweat began to form on Donny's upper lip. "Get out," he said.
"What?"
Donny yanked the covers tight around his body and stood, his voice full of volume and menace. "Get . The Fuck . Out!"
Leon shrugged. "Now you trying to be a man? Whatever. You know what to do if you ever want me to bring the bitch out ya again," Leon said laughing.
Donny watched Leon saunter out of his apartment, then quickly snatched up the business card and tore it into confetti. He stormed into the bathroom, turned on the shower and tried to wash away the filth he suddenly felt deep in his body.
With fresh flowers tucked into small jars all around, Eppi's apartment smelled like a quaint southern garden. The lasagna baking in the oven added warmth that she knew would aid her on her intimate mission. She'd dressed special for the occasion in a sheer summer dress that revealed in obvious detail the full curves of her bra-less breasts, the nipples firm against the thin material and just ripe for suckling. She'd bathed for over an hour in a tub scented with lavender bath beads. Her skin was smooth from multiple applications of cocoa butter and peaches and cream body lotion. She looked and smelled sweet for a very good reason: she alone was going to be Jay's dessert!
While carefully monitoring the baking lasagna, she wrapped the gift she'd walked all over three different department stores at the mall to find, not that it was extravagant or especially made for the occasion. She just wanted the gift to convey the message right. The matching golden heart lockets that read "His" and "Hers" seemed most appropriate, so she'd charged them and inserted heart-shaped photos in them. She felt almost giddy at the thought of Jay's reaction to her thoughtfulness and declaration of love.
It couldn't come at a better time, she thought.
Seeing him with Fallon, that poor excuse for a sista, annoyed Eppi immensely. She expected a class-less loser like Bruce to find Cherron interesting, even attractive, but Jay was different. He was kind. He was sweet. He respected women in a way that Eppi didn't think possible in a man. She remembered their brief but passionate smooch the night of Jay's accident. Given the situation, any other dude would have taken the opportunity and been all over her like a cheap suit, trying to force his tongue anywhere it fit and places it didn't. Jay refused to let his animalistic nature control him. He let her walk off. Eppi wondered if she could exercise that same level of control tonight.
Now that she let herself acknowledge her sexual attraction to Jay, she was consumed with lusty images of him. The impression his nipples made in the white T-shirts he wore to bed . The flex of his still-wet muscles as he walked from the bathroom to his bedroom in a snug-tied white towel that contrasted so erotically with his deep chocolate skin . The musk and close scent of his sweat as he brushed past her on his way to the fridge after an intense workout at the rec center or a game of hoops. Even the way he sat on her couch, legs spread wide open, one hand on his stomach, fingertips sneaking into the waistband of his shorts, the bottoms of his big feet resting on her coffee table as if he owned it. She didn't realize until now just how long it had been since she'd enjoyed the pleasures of the male body. Well over two months, which for her was a first. In the month that he'd been living with her, nothing she ever said or did to Jay carried any conscious sexual intent, but she still felt that Jay was receptive to her and quite aware of her femininity. Of the outfit she wore when she worked out, Jay had jokingly said, "Damn. Too bad I ain't made of spandex, cause I'd love to be wearing you like that!" And when she saw him sitting on the couch, zoning out while watching TV, she oftentimes massaged his neck and shoulders while he rubbed his cheeks against her hands. Nothing overt. But there was an open space there. An unexplored area that acknowledged the opposite sex and the unspoken attraction. Eppi was determined to explore that avenue that night.
She poured herself a glass of the white wine she'd chilled to complement the dinner and sipped from it while she waited for Jay to return from his afternoon with Cherron. The alcohol calmed her fears, mellowed out her insecurities. Why was she afraid? She was 'Eppi' after all, nicknamed for a bad-ass Pam Grier character. That said a lot about her physical strengths. She didn't fear much, but the past two months had created subtle changes within and it was the unknown newness that scared her. She was not used to being on this side of the unrequited love equation. Usually, she was fielding rumors of boys with secret crushes. She couldn't recall one time that she'd sat around wondering if some boy or man, for that matter ,was interested. They always were.
She poured herself another glass of wine, thinking about how Jay wasn't the type of brotha she usually dated. At 14, she'd lost her virginity to a bowlegged "balla" ten years her senior who banged her in the back seat of his '89 Cutlass and spent most of his day swigging tall cans of malt liquor, grabbing his dick and talking shit about all the "ho's" he was hitting. She hadn't lost her yearning for the ghetto-fabulous thug or roughneck, which was part of the reason she'd found Lonnell so attractive. But if nothing else, being with Lonnell taught her to rethink her preferences in the men department.
The minutes began to add up as Eppi continued to drain the bottle of wine. An hour passed and then two. Worried, Eppi called Dre.
"Have you seen your brother?"
She emptied the last of the wine into her glass and promptly swallowed it all in a gulp. Dre didn't answer right away.
"Not since earlier today," he said. "He ran out of your place in a mood around one. Why? Is something wrong?"
Eppi sighed. Of course something was wrong - he was with Cherron, had been for hours.
"No, no. Everything is cool. He's been out a little while, I thought he might have called you."
"Nope. But if he does, I'll let him know you're looking."
Eppi thanked Dre and hung up the phone. She put her hand to her forehead, overcome by anger and anxiousness. Here she had taken all this time and put all this preparation into making dinner, fixing herself up and picking out a gift for Jay and he was off with her, of all people. Her. She had some serious shit to get off her chest and she was so ready to let it all out, but what did he care? He hadn't even bothered to show up. She walked on unsteady feet across the room to re-fill her glass. That's when she remembered all the wine was gone.
"Damnit!" The empty bottle sailed to the floor, glass shards flying like shrapnel. "This . this was supposed to be for our dinner! Why can't I do anything right?" She stumbled towards the front door. "Fuck it. I'll just . I'll just get some more. Might even get this one for free." She always bought her liquor at J.R.'s, the package liquor store a couple blocks away from her apartment. J.R., the owner, happened to have a little jones for her and never asked for an I.D. In fact, he'd helped her get her first fake ID two years ago. She grabbed her keys and left, not concerned enough to close the door completely.
 
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After hanging up the phone, Dre returned to his task of cleaning he and Maleek's bedroom. Lately, the two had been more concerned with sleeping and fucking there than picking up the shed clothes they left on their way into bed. The floor was cluttered with boots, shoes, shirts, pants, boxers, briefs, spare change, Chap Stick, little notes, lint, belts, and anything else that happened to be in their pockets. The accumulation of "dirty drawers" and the unchanged sheets that held all their sexual secrets left a slightly musty odor in the room, one that didn't repulse Dre so much given its source, but he knew the clothes dropping had to stop and the bed definitely needed new sheets. It was hard for him to find a clear path from the door to the other side of the room!
He stooped to retrieve Maleek's jersey and pressed it into his face, the fading scent of Maleek's sweat and body musk bringing a smile to his lips. Nothing in the world smells like my baby, he thought. The sweat made Dre reflect on Maleek's work ethic lately. He was never lazy; now that he had this nice town house and the Navigator payments, he was working himself that much harder to maintain. As if he didn't have enough on his plate, he'd even taken Dre shopping for a car. It was nice to be loved and pampered, but Dre had no intention of letting Maleek provide for him like that.
Dre began to sort he and Maleek's items into two separate piles on the bed. Since the clothes were headed for the washer, he checked pockets and found some interesting items in Maleek's: several unused condoms, an unopened package of Big Red, lots of change and dollar bills. What really caught his attention was a bankbook that he'd never seen before. He tossed it onto the night stand and continued sorting through the clothes. The more he tried to ignore the bankbook, the more he wondered about it and why Maleek didn't even mention he had a bank account. He hated the thought of prying but the bankbook called to him. Besides, he thought, if Maleek wanted to keep his account a secret, he wouldn't stash it in a pair of pants on his bedroom floor. He flipped the cover open.
The savings account was opened five months ago with a $1200 deposit. Steady deposits over the next few months increased the balance significantly. As Dre continued to turn the pages of the bankbook, his mouth dropped. He sat down on the bed and stared, unblinking, at the balance as of a week ago: $11,225.
"Hey, baby. What you doing?" Maleek sauntered into the room.
The bankbook fell out of Dre's hand as he stood, eyes and mouth standing open in surprise.
"What is it?" Maleek asked.
Dre recovered and looked down at the floor. As Maleek stepped around the bed, Dre put his foot over the bankbook. "Nothing, nothing," Dre said.
Maleek pulled him into an embrace. "Are you sure? You look like somebody scared the hell out of you!"
Dre hugged Maleek tighter and closed his eyes. Somebody had scared the hell out of him. but how to tell Maleek that it was him?
 
Eppi drove down a straight avenue as if it were a winding road, narrowly missing a number of scrapes and scratches. If not for the honking horns and constant flash of headlights into the interior of the car, she wouldn't have known anything was wrong with her driving. She gripped the wheel with both hands and tried to focus. Every few seconds, she reached for the pint of cheap wine J.R. had given her for free when she bought the more expensive wine. She thought she was getting a little tipsy, but not drunk. Jay wouldn't want her drunk.
As she came closer to her apartment, she saw a blur parked near the curb. Rather than slow down, she maneuvered her car to the curb, almost going over it in her attempt to park. The blur became clearer: it was another car. And standing on the curb outside the curb was Jay. Eppi smiled. Her foot never leaving the accelerator. She rolled down her passenger window and was about to call out to Jay when she heard this loud crunch . And then everything went black.
 
BMOC Chapter 50: After Effects
"I don't know what happened," Jay said. And truthfully, everything happened so fast, he couldn't tell a coherent story of action A to action B to action C. All he remembered was getting out of Cherron's car, laughing and joking about the movie they'd just seen, and standing on the curb as they said their goodbyes. The next thing he knew, another car flew into the back of Cherron's car. He fell back on the sidewalk, his ears reeling from the sound of the impact, and watched as Cherron's car became sandwiched between the parked car in front of her and the car that had rammed into the back of her. Only after the paramedics arrived did he realize Eppi was driving the car that hit Cherron's.
Now, sitting on the stoop outside Eppi's apartment, he seemed immensely disoriented. The swirling red and blue lights of the ambulance and police cars made him dizzy; the buzz of sirens still reverberated inside his head. It was in this haze of light and sound that most of his memory returned to him. The present disappeared for several minutes and the past two years zoomed through his conscious mind, setting on his final thoughts before his accident.
"Chase," he said out loud. The strange male face that had haunted him for weeks now had a name - as well as a history. Chase, who he lusted for in spite of the fact that he loved him like a brother, had betrayed him with Bruce, of all people. He remembered the day everything fell apart between them. He was standing in the stairwell on Bruce's floor, thinking that Bruce was lying about Chase not being in his room. He remembered hoping - praying, even - that Chase was NOT in Bruce's room, because he could deal with anything or any transgression except his supposed best friend. Bruce had done too much dirt to him; because of their history as play brothers, everything he'd done left scars that would never heal. Jay couldn't handle one more personal injury from him. Then Chase stepped into that stairwell and Jay was cut deeply yet again.
"Jay! Jay!" Drifting in old memories, Jay didn't hear Dre yelling as he ran down the street. He'd heard about an accident at Eppi's apartment and since his baby was deep sleeping anyway, he didn't bother to ask Maleek if he could use the Navigator. He had to park a block down the street because of the ambulance and police cars. He was glad to see his brother was OK, only a little shaken.
The ambulance took off not long after Dre arrived. Jay wanted to go to the hospital to keep vigil and Dre offered to take him. He hadn't shared with Dre that his memory had returned, but Dre knew something was up with his brother. He figured it was the accident and didn't press him.
"Whose ride is this?" Jay asked.
Dre looked at his brother in confusion. "Maleek's," he said. Jay had ridden in the Navigator with Dre and Maleek only a few days before, so Dre didn't understand the question. "You alright?"
Jay nodded. "That nigga better treat you right this time," he said.
Dre stared at his brother. "What do you mean, this time?"
"I mean, he better not leave you hanging like he did before. Like Dad say, you best finish what you start."
Dre couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Wait - you remember Maleek leaving me?"
Jay just stared out the window. "Old boy got a nice ride. He was broke as a joke last year. How he moving up so fast?"
Dre was so stunned to realize his brother's memory was back that he wasn't even listening to what Jay was saying. "When did you start to remember - I mean, what do you remember?"
Jay shrugged. "Everything, I guess. Except what happened to me."
"Man, this is good news. I was worried you wouldn't remember the past two years."
Jay shook his head. "I kinda wish I didn't remember some things."
Dre knew exactly what his brother was talking about, but what could he say? Jay was obviously confused about his sexuality and in denial mode. Whatever Dre said about it would probably make him angry, so he chose not to respond. "Too bad we can't celebrate. Here you got your memory back, and then this happens. Life is fucked up sometimes."
Jay chuckled. "Life is fucked up most of the time, little bro. At least for us."
* * * * *
The paramedics had radioed to the hospital that they were en route with a pregnant woman, approximately 33 weeks (seven and a half months), so that staff and equipment could be ready when they arrived. They were more concerned about Cherron's condition because of her pregnancy and the fact that she appeared to have pain in her abdomen. "My baby," she cried, gripping her swollen stomach. "My baby."
She was in and out of consciousness due to the injuries she'd sustained, and unable to sensibly answer any of the paramedics questions. When they arrived at Pavillion Memorial, an obstetrics nurse and an ultrasound technologist were on hand to evaluate the unborn baby's condition. The fetal monitor revealed the baby wasn't in distress, but Cherron's membranes, including her uterus, were ruptured. An ultrasound showed blood in the abdomen, but the doctors weren't sure if it was inside or outside the uterus.
The on-call surgeon was paged and when he arrived in the ER, the fetal monitor began to beep wildly. Cherron's unborn child was in distress. Seven and a half months was early - very early to be delivering a child - but it was clear that if they did not perform an emergency Caesarean section, the fetus would die. Forty-five minutes later, Cherron delivered a 3-pound baby boy. Born in distress, the baby was immediately cast in his first fight - for his life.
Cherron knew nothing of the baby's birth. She was under anesthesia from the surgery and later pain relievers. In addition to the major surgery required for the baby's delivery, Cherron also suffered a broken bone in her left leg and several rib fractures. She was listed in serious condition when Dre and Jay arrived at the hospital. The nurses refused to give out further information on Cherron or the baby due to confidentiality.
"I can't tell you anything further if you're not family," the nurse told him.
"Family? What the - Do you see anybody else here but us? We are the family!"
"What is your relationship to Ms. Eubanks?" The nurse asked.
Backed up against a wall and desperate for information, Jay said the first thing that came to his mind. "I'm - I'm the baby's daddy, that's who. Now can somebody tell me something?"
* * * * *
Eppi suffered a major gash to her forehead requiring 23 stitches and a number of minor bruises and scratches. It was clear that she was going to walk away from the accident relatively unharmed. The officers who'd responded to the scene stepped into the ER station where she was recuperating after being stitched up. One was an older white gentleman who identified himself as Officer Kent; the other was a much younger woman, a sister with a well manicured fro and a gentle smile that she displayed upon her introduction. "Miss Proudfoot? I'm Officer Wanda Reynolds-Shepherd. How are you feeling?"
Eppi touched the bandage on her head. "I won't be in any pageants any time soon," she replied. The alcohol hadn't worn off much and she hadn't considered why the officers might want to talk to her.
"Miss Proudfoot, we have some questions we'd like to ask you about the accident," Officer Reynolds-Shepherd said. "Do you think you're ready for that?"
"She looks like she's ready for more than questions," Officer Kent said. He stepped closer to the bed. "You have fun tonight, Miss Proudfoot?"
Officer Shepherd cut her eyes at her fellow officer. As a female officer, she was acutely aware of cops like Kent, who operated on instinct and disregarded everything else, including common sense, tact and the law. She knew that the young woman was not yet guilty of anything and wasn't about to let Officer Kent cast a judgment. "Miss Proudfoot, why don't you tell us what you remember about the accident?"
Eppi sat up and tried to focus on the past few hours. "I left my apartment," she said out of nowhere. "I left. I went to the store. I came back. And then, whammo! It hurt like hell."
Kent smirked at his colleague. "Whammo?" He shook his head.
Officer Reynolds-Shepherd asked the direct question. "Miss Proudfoot, have you been drinking tonight?"
That question sobered up Eppi quickly. She saw the two officers looking at her, thought about the empty bottle of wine on the floor of her apartment and the accident, and was suddenly quiet. Officer Reynolds-Shepherd asked again. "No," she lied.
Kent sighed loudly. "And a BAC test is gonna confirm that?," he said.
Reynolds-Shepherd cut her eyes at him again. She knew what had to come next, but she refused to be an ass about it. "Miss Proudfoot, we're going to ask you to submit to a blood alcohol test."
Eppi bolted up in the bed. Drunk or not, she knew what was about to happen. "Did something happen? Is somebody hurt?" She only now remembered that there had been someone in the ambulance with her.
"Yes, someone was hurt in the accident! That's why you're gonna take the BAC!," Kent yelled.
"Officer Kent, would you please go get the lab guy so we can get this testing done?" Officer Reynolds-Shepherd asked.
He complied, leaving the two women alone. Officer Reynolds-Shepherd sat down on the bed and smiled at Eppi. She could sense the young woman's fear and she knew it was based on a couple of facts. One, she was involved in a traffic accident was probably intoxicated. More importantly, she was underage, which compounded whatever laws she'd broken. But Wanda Reynolds-Shepherd knew the worst thing Eppi could do was refuse to take the test. "Look, I'm not going to pretend that this isn't a serious situation. I know you're probably afraid. But if you don't take this test now, I can guarantee that it will get a lot worse for you."
"I don't have to take the test?" Eppi asked, surprised.
"No. Of course, that means an automatic suspension of your driver's license for three months. A refusal doesn't look too good in court if you're going to argue that you aren't intoxicated," she said.
"Why you telling me all this?"
"I'd hate to see a young sister make a bad situation worse," Reynolds-Shepherd cautioned.
When Officer Kent returned with the lab tech, Eppi decided to take Brenda Shepherd's advice. She submitted to the test, knowing that when she sobered up, she'd be in need of some aspirin and a good lawyer.
 
BMOC Chapter 51



Jay stared with awe at the small form in the incubator. The baby boy, who was without a name since his mother hadn't yet recovered from her surgery, looked like a lab experiment with tubes hooked to and running out of most of his facial orifices. But he was alive. That was the good news, as the doctor told Jay. Premature babies, especially as early as Fallon's baby, have diminished odds for survival so it was going to be touch and go for the next couple of weeks. But when he saw the little one he knew this boy had some fight in him. He looked a lot like his father. And the sight of him just made Jay a little emotional. The sight of Bruce's son reminded him that in spite of the many ways Bruce had hurt him, he still had love for his old running buddy and always would.
Seeing the baby in such a vulnerable position awakened some new feelings in Jay. He'd seen babies before; he'd watched nieces and nephews and cousins in hospital nurseries before, but never had he felt a sense of protective responsibility as he did for this little baby boy. Maybe it was because of the conditions under which the little fellow was born. Maybe it was because the newborn entered the world with a dead daddy. He couldn't explain his attachment to the baby - he only knew what he felt. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually wanted to hold a baby, but that's what he kept thinking about as he stared at the incubator.
Dre watched his brother watching the baby with a sense of Dre ad. He could sense what Jay was thinking, how this baby was affecting him. It reminded him of a similar experience with one of Bruce 's babies that he'd had the year before. The only difference was, he'd actually been told that the baby was his, not Bruce 's. He'd felt the same sense of responsibility he sensed Jay felt now, and was on his way to the altar before the truth came out. He never thought about what would've happened if the truth hadn't come out, because that was a nightmare he didn't care to visit. He was not ready to be a daddy then and didn't think he'd be ready any time soon. And Jay was so confused about his sexuality that he wasn't exactly prime daddy material, either. What bothered Dre the most about the whole situation was that at the center of it all was Bruce, yet again. How many more of Bruce 's messes were he and his brother destined to clean up, Dre wondered.
Jay came out of the nursery with a look of awe on his face that really scared Dre. "Hey man, you ok?" He asked.
"He's just this little," he said, motioning with his hands. "But he gone make it. I can tell."
Dre chuckled nervously. "You sound like you plan to be there to watch," he said.
Jay turned to his brother with a genuine smile on his face. "Why not? I don't see anybody standing in line to play the kid's daddy."
"That's because his daddy is dead," Dre said. "Jay, this is not your responsibility. Don't get this twisted now."
"I know it's not my responsibility," he replied. "But that don't mean I can't be there for him if his mom will let me."
Dre hung his head. "I know you're gonna do what you want to do, but damn Jay. Think about it. This ain't some short term thing. If you decide to be this kid's daddy, that's like a lifetime contract."
"I know that shit," Jay snapped. "I lost a few memories, not my fuckin' sense."
"All right, all right." Dre sighed. "I gotta take the Navigator home. You gone leave now or what?"
Jay shook his head. "Naw, I'm staying."
Dre knew the determined set of his brother's jaw only too well - it was something he'd inherited from their stubborn father. Nothing could break through that determination. And although he wanted to shake his brother into looking at the situation for what it really was, he knew that would do no good. Plus, Dre was tired and a little stressed about his own situation. He only needed to think of Maleek's mysterious bank book and the sum of $11,225 to feel his recent sense of security fly away. He told Jay to call if he needed a ride home later and left the hospital.
* * * * *
Jay sat in the waiting area for a few minutes as he finalized his thoughts on his current situation. He felt overwhelmed; exhilarated, even. It felt like Christmas morning and a visit to the dentist's office all at once. He admitted to himself that he was afraid of the possibility of being involved in the baby's life; but the more he imagined himself doing that, the more excited he became. He'd never considered what it might be like to be a father. He felt ready, however, to learn.
"Hello." A blonde holding a clipboard stood above Jay, smiling as she held out her hand. "I'm Layla West, the hospital birth clerk."
Jay shook her hand. "Jay King."
"I understand you're the father of the Cherron Banks’s baby?"
The moment of truth had arrived. This was his opportunity to correct the lie he'd told earlier.
"Yeah, that's my kid," he said without hesitation.
"Okay. Well, Mr. King, I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but because you and the mother are not married, you'll have to fill out a Declaration of Paternity form to give the child your name and be listed as the father on the birth certificate. If you have a few moments, I can explain the process and you can complete the paperwork in my office," she said.
Jay nodded and followed the birth clerk down the hall.
* * * *
The Porsche 99.6 convertible slowed in tens of miles as it turned a corner onto the lot of the Moto Mart gas station. Leon was used to turning heads in the black on black speed demon with the 22-inch rims, and tonight was no different. Heads swiveled as he eased next to one of the island gas pumps and put his car in park. He was a little on the tired side, it was late (or early, depending on the perspective) and he had a morning appointment on campus in about four hours that he hated even thinking about, so his mind was somewhere else as he filled up his tank. He looked across the lot and saw a strawberry blond white chick checking him out. She was being very obvious but that didn't surprise Leon. He got attention from females, and when he was in the mood for a different flavor, he kicked it with them. White girls, he'd learned, were the most aggressive. They were worse than straight dudes on the trail of some new kitty. He was too tired to even pretend that he was interested, which he wasn't. He'd had an intense night - an insatiable and generous older white dude who couldn't get enough of Leon riding his back - and wasn't even thinking about sex.
He looked over his shoulder to keep his eyes out of the chick's radar. The Navigator parked at the island catty-corner to his was empty and deserted, but he knew who was driving it. Maleek. He finished filling up the tank and walked into the store to pay. A line four deep formed in front of the counter, but none of them was Maleek. Leon did see a familiar face -- a face he'd been thinking about all summer long. If he was tired, he surely perked up at the sight of Dre standing second in the line. He couldn't believe it. Dre was staring straight ahead at the line when Leon snuck up behind him, poking him playfully in the sides. Dre jumped.
Leon kept one hand around Dre's waist. "What you doing out so late, playboy? It's after your bedtime."
Dre stared at the man whose arm was around his waist like he'd lost his mind. The sexy face was only slightly familiar. He didn't even remember his name. "Now how would you know my bed time? You don't even know me." Dre carefully removed Leon's hand from his waist.
"And whose fault is that? Yo ass never called me."
Dre vaguely recalled the brotha writing his number on his hand. What he did remember clearly was washing the number off his hand right after. "What's your name, again?"
Leon's smile dropped. His name? Nobody ever forgot his name. He tried to laugh it off. "Damn, shorty. You play this hard to get shit to the tee."
The line moved and Dre laid his ten spot on the counter to pay for his gas. "Look, it's late and I'm tired so I'm just gonna say it like this: I'm not interested. I wasn't back then and I'm not right now. Me and my boy are quite happy."
Leon opened his mouth to say something, but Dre just walked off. The problem, he realized after Dre left the store, was that he didn't know what to say. He stood, dumbstruck, as the line continued to move. When he finally emerged from his daze, the strawberry blonde from outside was standing next to him as she paid for her gas. She looked at him again, but this time she almost seemed like she was about to spit on him. She rolled her eyes and left. Leon hadn't felt this vulnerable. He'd never felt this vulnerable! Dissed and dismissed, not only by the brotha he'd been thinking about off and on for the past two months, but also by some white chick he didn't even know.
He paid for his gas and wandered back to his car. He sat in the driver's seat for a few, reflecting. So this is what rejection feels like, he thought. He chuckled. He put the keys in the ignition and looked around one last time. Maleek's Navigator had been parked at an island pump that was now empty. He didn't remember seeing Maleek in the store. Dre was gone. So was the Navigator.
"Me and my boy are quite happy," he remembered Dre saying. His boy? He remembered ragging Maleek about his lover, who didn't know anything about what Maleek did for a living. Leon's mind turned these pieces of information over and over until they fit together. He laughed at the complete picture. Slapped his knees in disbelief. It couldn't be. Or could it?

Who the hell did that brotha think he was - Shemar Moore or somebody? Dre thought on the drive home. Even if he was a Shemar, that didn't mean he could put his hands all over Dre like he owned him. He still didn't remember the brotha's name. He just couldn't believe his nerve. He popped in a CD to smooth out the rest of his ride home. He hoped his parting words had been enough to convince the brotha to try his luck elsewhere. He was happy with Maleek - even if things weren't as perfect as Dre thought they were.
He chewed his lip as his thoughts turned yet again to the bank book. Eleven thousand dollars was more money than Dre had ever had at one time in his life. That was the kind of cash flow that came from illegal or unsavory types of work, but he refused to believe that Maleek was involved in anything like that. If he were, what would it say about the level of trust in their relationship? No. He felt confident that there was a perfectly legal explanation for the money and a good reason why Maleek hadn't told him about the bank book.
He pulled into the parking lot outside the townhouse and ejected the CD from the player. The CD fell from his hands as he tried to return it its case and when he reached down for it on the floor, he noticed what looked like a business card lying face-down next to it. He picked up them both. He absentmindedly glanced at the card as he put the CD in the case. His stomach crashed twenty flights. He read the business card from left to right, top to bottom at least 10 times, hoping that he was mistaken. But he wasn't. It was a card for "ILL Mocha Men." According to the card, it was a business specializing in male companions, exotic dancers and masseurs for the "discrete brothah" in Illinois. The "companion" advertised on this card was named "Ty." Dre ripped the card into shreds before he could get ahold of himself. He realized after he'd stepped out of the Navigator that he was shaking. The truth was in his reflection on the SUV's window. Something was wrong, terribly wrong with Maleek - and with their relationship.
 
Im back, Bitches! Sorry, I know the chapters are miss-numbered.

BMOC Chapter 51



Jay stared with awe at the small form in the incubator. The baby boy, who was without a name since his mother hadn't yet recovered from her surgery, looked like a lab experiment with tubes hooked to and running out of most of his facial orifices. But he was alive. That was the good news, as the doctor told Jay. Premature babies, especially as early as Fallon's baby, have diminished odds for survival so it was going to be touch and go for the next couple of weeks. But when he saw the little one he knew this boy had some fight in him. He looked a lot like his father. And the sight of him just made Jay a little emotional. The sight of Bruce's son reminded him that in spite of the many ways Bruce had hurt him, he still had love for his old running buddy and always would.
Seeing the baby in such a vulnerable position awakened some new feelings in Jay. He'd seen babies before; he'd watched nieces and nephews and cousins in hospital nurseries before, but never had he felt a sense of protective responsibility as he did for this little baby boy. Maybe it was because of the conditions under which the little fellow was born. Maybe it was because the newborn entered the world with a dead daddy. He couldn't explain his attachment to the baby - he only knew what he felt. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually wanted to hold a baby, but that's what he kept thinking about as he stared at the incubator.
Dre watched his brother watching the baby with a sense of Dre ad. He could sense what Jay was thinking, how this baby was affecting him. It reminded him of a similar experience with one of Bruce 's babies that he'd had the year before. The only difference was, he'd actually been told that the baby was his, not Bruce 's. He'd felt the same sense of responsibility he sensed Jay felt now, and was on his way to the altar before the truth came out. He never thought about what would've happened if the truth hadn't come out, because that was a nightmare he didn't care to visit. He was not ready to be a daddy then and didn't think he'd be ready any time soon. And Jay was so confused about his sexuality that he wasn't exactly prime daddy material, either. What bothered Dre the most about the whole situation was that at the center of it all was Bruce, yet again. How many more of Bruce 's messes were he and his brother destined to clean up, Dre wondered.
Jay came out of the nursery with a look of awe on his face that really scared Dre. "Hey man, you ok?" He asked.
"He's just this little," he said, motioning with his hands. "But he gone make it. I can tell."
Dre chuckled nervously. "You sound like you plan to be there to watch," he said.
Jay turned to his brother with a genuine smile on his face. "Why not? I don't see anybody standing in line to play the kid's daddy."
"That's because his daddy is dead," Dre said. "Jay, this is not your responsibility. Don't get this twisted now."
"I know it's not my responsibility," he replied. "But that don't mean I can't be there for him if his mom will let me."
Dre hung his head. "I know you're gonna do what you want to do, but damn Jay. Think about it. This ain't some short term thing. If you decide to be this kid's daddy, that's like a lifetime contract."
"I know that shit," Jay snapped. "I lost a few memories, not my fuckin' sense."
"All right, all right." Dre sighed. "I gotta take the Navigator home. You gone leave now or what?"
Jay shook his head. "Naw, I'm staying."
Dre knew the determined set of his brother's jaw only too well - it was something he'd inherited from their stubborn father. Nothing could break through that determination. And although he wanted to shake his brother into looking at the situation for what it really was, he knew that would do no good. Plus, Dre was tired and a little stressed about his own situation. He only needed to think of Maleek's mysterious bank book and the sum of $11,225 to feel his recent sense of security fly away. He told Jay to call if he needed a ride home later and left the hospital.

* * * * *

Jay sat in the waiting area for a few minutes as he finalized his thoughts on his current situation. He felt overwhelmed; exhilarated, even. It felt like Christmas morning and a visit to the dentist's office all at once. He admitted to himself that he was afraid of the possibility of being involved in the baby's life; but the more he imagined himself doing that, the more excited he became. He'd never considered what it might be like to be a father. He felt ready, however, to learn.
"Hello." A blonde holding a clipboard stood above Jay, smiling as she held out her hand. "I'm Layla West, the hospital birth clerk."
Jay shook her hand. "Jay King."
"I understand you're the father of the Cherron BanksÂ’s baby?"
The moment of truth had arrived. This was his opportunity to correct the lie he'd told earlier.
"Yeah, that's my kid," he said without hesitation.
"Okay. Well, Mr. King, I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but because you and the mother are not married, you'll have to fill out a Declaration of Paternity form to give the child your name and be listed as the father on the birth certificate. If you have a few moments, I can explain the process and you can complete the paperwork in my office," she said.
Jay nodded and followed the birth clerk down the hall.

* * * *


The Porsche 99.6 convertible slowed in tens of miles as it turned a corner onto the lot of the Moto Mart gas station. Leon was used to turning heads in the black on black speed demon with the 22-inch rims, and tonight was no different. Heads swiveled as he eased next to one of the island gas pumps and put his car in park. He was a little on the tired side, it was late (or early, depending on the perspective) and he had a morning appointment on campus in about four hours that he hated even thinking about, so his mind was somewhere else as he filled up his tank. He looked across the lot and saw a strawberry blond white chick checking him out. She was being very obvious but that didn't surprise Leon. He got attention from females, and when he was in the mood for a different flavor, he kicked it with them. White girls, he'd learned, were the most aggressive. They were worse than straight dudes on the trail of some new kitty. He was too tired to even pretend that he was interested, which he wasn't. He'd had an intense night - an insatiable and generous older white dude who couldn't get enough of Leon riding his back - and wasn't even thinking about sex.
He looked over his shoulder to keep his eyes out of the chick's radar. The Navigator parked at the island catty-corner to his was empty and deserted, but he knew who was driving it. Maleek. He finished filling up the tank and walked into the store to pay. A line four deep formed in front of the counter, but none of them was Maleek. Leon did see a familiar face -- a face he'd been thinking about all summer long. If he was tired, he surely perked up at the sight of Dre standing second in the line. He couldn't believe it. Dre was staring straight ahead at the line when Leon snuck up behind him, poking him playfully in the sides. Dre jumped.
Leon kept one hand around Dre's waist. "What you doing out so late, playboy? It's after your bedtime."
Dre stared at the man whose arm was around his waist like he'd lost his mind. The sexy face was only slightly familiar. He didn't even remember his name. "Now how would you know my bed time? You don't even know me." Dre carefully removed Leon's hand from his waist.
"And whose fault is that? Yo ass never called me."
Dre vaguely recalled the brotha writing his number on his hand. What he did remember clearly was washing the number off his hand right after. "What's your name, again?"
Leon's smile dropped. His name? Nobody ever forgot his name. He tried to laugh it off. "Damn, shorty. You play this hard to get shit to the tee."
The line moved and Dre laid his ten spot on the counter to pay for his gas. "Look, it's late and I'm tired so I'm just gonna say it like this: I'm not interested. I wasn't back then and I'm not right now. Me and my boy are quite happy."
Leon opened his mouth to say something, but Dre just walked off. The problem, he realized after Dre left the store, was that he didn't know what to say. He stood, dumbstruck, as the line continued to move. When he finally emerged from his daze, the strawberry blonde from outside was standing next to him as she paid for her gas. She looked at him again, but this time she almost seemed like she was about to spit on him. She rolled her eyes and left. Leon hadn't felt this vulnerable. He'd never felt this vulnerable! Dissed and dismissed, not only by the brotha he'd been thinking about off and on for the past two months, but also by some white chick he didn't even know.
He paid for his gas and wandered back to his car. He sat in the driver's seat for a few, reflecting. So this is what rejection feels like, he thought. He chuckled. He put the keys in the ignition and looked around one last time. Maleek's Navigator had been parked at an island pump that was now empty. He didn't remember seeing Maleek in the store. Dre was gone. So was the Navigator.
"Me and my boy are quite happy," he remembered Dre saying. His boy? He remembered ragging Maleek about his lover, who didn't know anything about what Maleek did for a living. Leon's mind turned these pieces of information over and over until they fit together. He laughed at the complete picture. Slapped his knees in disbelief. It couldn't be. Or could it?

Who the hell did that brotha think he was - Shemar Moore or somebody? Dre thought on the drive home. Even if he was a Shemar, that didn't mean he could put his hands all over Dre like he owned him. He still didn't remember the brotha's name. He just couldn't believe his nerve. He popped in a CD to smooth out the rest of his ride home. He hoped his parting words had been enough to convince the brotha to try his luck elsewhere. He was happy with Maleek - even if things weren't as perfect as Dre thought they were.
He chewed his lip as his thoughts turned yet again to the bank book. Eleven thousand dollars was more money than Dre had ever had at one time in his life. That was the kind of cash flow that came from illegal or unsavory types of work, but he refused to believe that Maleek was involved in anything like that. If he were, what would it say about the level of trust in their relationship? No. He felt confident that there was a perfectly legal explanation for the money and a good reason why Maleek hadn't told him about the bank book.
He pulled into the parking lot outside the townhouse and ejected the CD from the player. The CD fell from his hands as he tried to return it its case and when he reached down for it on the floor, he noticed what looked like a business card lying face-down next to it. He picked up them both. He absentmindedly glanced at the card as he put the CD in the case. His stomach crashed twenty flights. He read the business card from left to right, top to bottom at least 10 times, hoping that he was mistaken. But he wasn't. It was a card for "ILL Mocha Men." According to the card, it was a business specializing in male companions, exotic dancers and masseurs for the "discrete brothah" in Illinois. The "companion" advertised on this card was named "Ty." Dre ripped the card into shreds before he could get a hold of himself. He realized after he'd stepped out of the Navigator that he was shaking. The truth was in his reflection on the SUV's window. Something was wrong, terribly wrong with Maleek - and with their relationship.
Chapter 54: Trials and Revelations
Cherron 's eyes slowly fluttered open early the next morning, and the first face she saw was Duane's. Her mouth was so dry she couldn't even speak. Jay correctly read her discomfort as thirst and filled a small Dixie cup with water in the bathroom. He then held the cup while she drank. "Hey, young lady. How you feeling?"
"Aw -" Cherron cleared her throat. "Awful. Ache all over." She tried to sit up.
"Whoah, whoah. You can't do that. You had major surgery yesterday. You gone have to take it easy for awhile," Jay said.
Cherron touched her stomach. Panic gripped her from the inside and she gasped. "My baby! Where's my baby!"
"Ssshh. Ssshh," Jay said. "They delivered the baby by C-section after the accident. You got a son down in the nursery that needs a name."
"A son? I have a son." Her smile faded. "But - it's too early. I wasn't even eight months!"
"They had to take the baby. He woulda died if they didn't deliver him."
"But is he all right?"
Jay sighed. "I think he's gone be all right, but he's a premie and that means he's gone be here for a few."
"Oh my - I've got to see him, I've got to see him." Cherron tried to sit up, but she was too tender and sore to make much progress.
"Hey, hey. Let me go get the doctor and we'll see what we can do."
Cherron 's pulse galloped as she waited for Jay to return with the doctor. She feared that the baby was dying. She feared that she wouldn't get to see him alive after carrying him for over seven months. Most of all, she feared that the emptiness she now felt in her womb. Craig was gone, but she couldn't bear losing his baby, too. She was sobbing and hysterical when the Jay and the doctor entered her room. The doctor sedated her again to keep her from trying to get out of the bed to see her infant son. He told Jay that it was crucial at this point that she recover from her surgery without worry or stress. He advised Jay that he might have to keep her sedated for a couple of days.
Jay nodded, but he had wanted to discuss with Cherron the Declaration of Paternity form he'd signed. Evidently, she'd have to sign it and attest to the fact that he was the father before the hospital could list him on the birth certificate. He looked at the paper as Cherron slept. Was he doing the right thing? He wondered. Only Cherron could determine that, so he settled into his bedside chair and waited for her to awake again.
* * * * *
 
BMOC Chapter 52

"I wish that bitch would quit staring at me!" Leon 's voice carried across the crowded gym as he'd intended.
"Hey man, chill. You about to get us kicked out of here," Maleek said.
"Fuck that. If he don't quit staring, he's gone get kicked out of here!" His eyes narrowed into slits as he looked across the room at Donny .
"What is up with you? You usually like being the center of somebody's attention."
Leon tried not to give too much away. The sight of Donny irritated him. Reminded him why he shouldn't be so generous with his body. Bitches like that never respect it, he thought. And the self-righteous way Donny had "thrown" him out of his apartment - it bugged the hell out of Leon , even a month after the fact. To see him staring across the room with his judgmental eyes was more than Leon could take. "I don't like that bitch," was all he said to Maleek .
That was news to Maleek , since he knew Leon loved bitches (his term of endearment for any body, male or female, that he wanted to fuck). He couldn't help but wonder what the other dude had on Leon .
"I ain't gone stand here and be his fuckin' mirror. I'm hitting the showers. You coming?" Leon asked.
"Um, yeah. Yeah. I'll be in a few. Let me finish this set," he said.
Leon walked off toward the shower without looking back. Once he was out of sight, Maleek casually strolled over to where Donny was sitting. He nodded his head in greeting. "What up?"
Donny shrugged. "Nothing."
"My boy seem to think there's a problem."
"So he sends you over to handle his problem."
"Naw, it's not like that." Maleek chuckled. He didn't know how to ask what was going on without seeming like a gossip. "I never seen him that off the chain," he said after some thought.
Donny sized up Maleek . With his puppy dog brown eyes, he was cute in a best friend kind of way, Donny thought, but if he included Leon in his circle of friends, he was no innocent puppy. "Yeah, well maybe you don't know your boy all that well. If I'd asked a few more questions before - "
Maleek sensed that the source of today's confusion was somewhere in the words Donny couldn't say. He took a chance guessing what that might be. "We all gotta eat, you know. I can't hate on somebody because of what they do."
"Oh," Donny smirked at him. "I should have known - birds of a feather. So what, hustler? You gonna leave your business card?"
Maleek was stunned silent for a few seconds. He'd never - not once in the year he'd been escorting - encountered this attitude from anyone, be they client or associate. He felt the sting of shame in his cheeks for the first time since he'd circled the ad for "male companions" in the paper over a year ago. He recovered quickly. "Naw. Even a hustler like me has some standards."
As he walked away from Donny, Maleek couldn't shake the shame his words caused. He felt dirty all of a sudden and not just from the sweat of his workout. He disrobed quickly and joined Leon in the shower.
"What took so long?" Leon asked. "Did your LOVER call or something?" He didn't hide the sarcasm in his voice.
Maleek shook his head as he vigorously scrubbed his body and let the soap and water cascade down his torso. Leon smiled. He knew what Maleek didn't want him to know. He knew that his lover was Dre, but he couldn't understand it. What did Dre see in Maleek that he couldn't get tenfold with him? He wasn't built like him, he didn't have his confidence, and as Leon arrogantly noted in the shower, he wasn't swinging as much dick. Of course, Dre didn't know that, but that was the fun in fucking around - you never knew what kind of surprise you'd get. He'd already decided to hold onto his knowledge of Dre and Maleek's secret, unsure of how he could use it to his advantage. But that's exactly what he intended to do - use what he knew to get whom he wanted.
* * * * *
Eppi stood outside of Cherron 's hospital room, contemplating whether to go inside or not. She'd already peeped Jay sitting in the chair next to the bed, drifting. She wanted to talk to him, wanted to apologize, but she was afraid. Her lawyer had advised her to make amends with those that she'd hurt, if only to make her feel better about her situation, but Eppi was no fool. She knew that if there were any problems or medical complications with Cherron or her baby (or even if there were no complications), she could be sued in civil court. Her BAC test confirmed what she knew it would - that she was legally drunk when she ran into the back of Cherron's car - and she would have to pay the price for that. But she didn't want the situation to escalate. She took a long breath and walked into the room.
Cherron lay asleep in the bed, one leg in a cast. Eppi thought she looked fine, maybe a little tired, but she'd given birth AND been in an accident. She didn't look permanently injured. Eppi gave thanks. She knew that the baby wasn't as stable. The Cherron she knew was vindictive, mean-spirited and arrogant enough to file a suit just to make her life hell. For the briefest second, she almost wished Cherron had been killed in the accident. But then she realized that she'd be facing a vehicular manslaughter charge, which carried much stiffer penalties than the reckless endangerment charge she was facing. The thought of being nice to Cherron was sickening, but she didn't mean to cause the accident and she sincerely was sorry that it happened.
"That you, Eppi?"
Jay’s voice, gruff and sleep-edgy, made Eppi's heart leap into her throat. She turned away from the bed and met his eyes. He stood.
"Jay how are you doing?" She asked.
"I been better. You?"
She smiled, touching the bandage on her forehead. "Blessed. Very blessed."
Jay stared at her so expectantly that she became flustered. "Oh, well. I just came to see how she was doing and I checked on the baby, too."
"Cherron 's all right, considering." Jay stared at her again, expectantly.
Eppi hung her head. Duane's eyes seemed to demand from her things she didn't want to talk about - at least, not with him. "Don't look at me like that, Jay. Please."
"Like what?"
"Like you're judging me. I can't - Not from you, I can't take that."
"Judging you? Naaa. I'm just wondering what the hell was going on with you that night. I've never seen you messed up. Never seen you even take a drink."
Eppi found the courage to look into Jay's eyes again. She wanted to tell him exactly what was going on with her that night, but jealousy got the best of her good sense. Her smile was cold and nasty. "Guess you don't know me very well. I'm no saint, but then again, neither is she." Eppi waved her hand in the direction of Cherron .
"Saint? It ain't about being a saint. I don't - You're confusing the hell out of me, girl."
Eppi walked closer to Jay. "Confusing you? If it wasn't for the way you've been playing with my head, none of this shit would've happened!" She didn't know where the words came from or why she jumped to this conclusion, but she wasn't taking it back. She was an open sore right now and she wanted someone else to feel a little of the pain.
Jay pointed at his chest. "Me? What the hell you talking about!"
"Never mind." Eppi retreated toward the door. "I didn't come here to talk about this shit."
Jay stepped in front of the doorway. "Hold up. You come in here shooting off at me and now you don't want to talk about it? Oh, hell no. We gon talk."
One hand on hip, Eppi let loose with her feelings. "Fine. What do you want to talk about? The fact that I went out of my fucking way to be there for you after your accident? I took your ass in, fed you, talked to you, and rearranged my life for YOU."
"Yeah, yeah. I ain't never said you didn't."
"And you repay me by dissing me for that bitch? You damn sure know how to thank a girl, don't you?"
Jay's stomach burned. He hadn't seen this coming, couldn't have even predicted it. But he could hear it in Eppi's voice, knew it was behind her sharp words. The girl was digging him - deep - and jealous of Cherron for no good reason.
"What? Ain't got nothing to say about that, do you? Well, that's all right. I'm not on that tip no more."
"What do you want me to say?"
"Say? Don't say anything. Just come by my place and get your shit. Today!" She shoved past Jay and stomped out into the hallway, quickly running away before the tears started to fall.
 
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