Fox & Hound: Part Seven
https://interracialerotica.net/erotica/articles/182/1/Fox-amp-Hound-Part-Seven/Page1.html
By Tracy Ames
Published on March 28, 2010
It had taken Scott over a week to track down Dr. Greene and less than five minutes to convince him to meet Anna. She needed guidance—guidance he hadn’t the time or energy to give. Dr. Greene, on the other hand, loved nothing more than shaping a sensible mind. He could be a hard nut to crack however Scott was certain Dr. Greene would take her under his roof. His children were raising families of their own and his wife had given her blessing after their initial conversation.
Scott and Anna met Dr. Greene for lunch between classes. It was difficult to read his blank face but given the fact he didn’t walk out before the waitress took their order was money in the bank. Anna answered his questions articulately and politely but Dr. Greene felt she masked low self-esteem—an epidemic raging amongst young women.
“Are you in school?” Dr. Greene asked expressionlessly.
“No, sir.” Anna replied. “I came to Atlanta to find a career.”
“Your career begins with education. Without a degree, what you do between 9-5 is a job, not a career.” His eyes moved back and forth between her and Scott. He forwent the protracted lecture “You’re working?”
“Yes, sir. I’m a full-time event assistant…” she answered before Dr. Greene interrupted.
“You’re working too many hours. You don’t need the money. Your education comes first.” His face relaxed to a smile as he stood. “We’ll be out of town for two weeks. By the time we return you should be moved in. Come by my office tomorrow—you’re getting into school if it kills me. And if I see that peanut-head ex-boyfriend of yours lurking around, I’ll put a bullet in his ass.”
“It won’t come to that. I haven’t heard from him.” Anna beamed. “Thank you.”
That had been over a mouth ago.
Scott and Monica hadn’t spoken since he walked out of her door. There was little to say. It wasn’t as though they were friends before they began dating. There was no reason for them to keep in contact. Well, aside from the fact that her best friend was marrying Grant, who within a short period of time had become one of his closest friends and both of their ties with the Fitzpatrick’s, who were doing everything in their power to reconcile the happily unhappy couple.
They were unhappy indeed. Scott’s life didn’t skip a beat. Once Anna moved in with Dr. Greene, he dove into his studies and began getting over Monica. Getting over her was proving more difficult than he imagined. He could no sooner get over her than he could pull every star from the sky. Her presence plagued every passing second, smothering him like an emotional miasma. The anxiety was there, swirling around the banal; eddying around his insecurities; circling around his ego; churning his emotions. Yes, the anxiety is there, but so was the constant knowledge that they needed to be apart. His mouth watered with the prospect of walking away from her with neither insouciance nor sadness. He just wanted to let go.
Monica, his beautiful Monica, was miserable—unequivocally—incandescently miserable. No showy masquerade was needed; everyone knew their breakup devastated her. Sharon struggled to meet their prior commitments and juggle the new jobs pouring in while Monica was out of commission. Out of commission was an understatement. Monica hadn’t been in the office since the breakup. She couldn’t bring herself get out of bed much less reenter society. No, she closed her eyes and slipped into mental purgatory where atop the emotional rubble of her failed relationship sat see-saw which never seemed to lift her out of the dreck of self-doubt long enough to escape her persistent state of misery.
Her sleep, when there was any, came late and after much coaxing, and many rounds of counting her heartbeats. When she did finally sleep, she tossed erratically—she slept aware of her sleeping….bobbing on the surface of unconsciousness like a fishing float, rather than submerged like a convert in Lethean waters. Not that sleep would offer reprieve. Scott was there in her dreams…pieces of him so clear she could feel his essence, his fingers, his scent, and his kisses. These were the dreams from which she awoke weeping.
Sharon and Mrs. Fitz’s words of encouragement only went so far. Monica would have to heal herself in due course. She managed to pack his forgotten belongings and placed them in the living room, waiting for Sharon to pick them up. Two boxes…their relationship boiled down to two interchangeable lackluster brown boxes.
“Knock Knock,” Sharon said coming through Monica’s front door. She went straight to the kitchen with bags of take-out. “I came over early because Grant’s flying in tomorrow and I needed to run some errands. I figured you wouldn’t be up for going out so…here I am.” She was surprised to find Monica dressed, questionably so, but dressed nonetheless. Anything was better than seeing her encased in leggings and swimming in oversized tee shirts. Her hair was another story—tragically pushed up in a bizarre not-quit-right knot on the top of her head. But it was a start. “You’re looking better.” She plopped down beside her on the sofa.
Monica rolled her eyes and continued flipping through the channels. “How are the wedding plans coming?”
“Great,” Sharon said sarcastically. “I need your help. KC is driving me crazy. When are you coming back to work?”
“Why?” Monica heaved herself off the sofa and went to the kitchen. “Things going badly?”
“Um, yeah! I need some help. You can wallow in self-pity after hours. I’m getting killed.”
“I’ll be back in the office Monday until then, I’ll work from home. Thanks for taking up the slack.”
“Whatever. Just throw me a bone damn it. I’ve hired a new girl, Bree. You’ll hate her. I do. But she’s experienced so she’ll do for now. Joy is threatening to leave if she doesn’t”
“Joy can’t leave. We’d be lost. She knows the business inside and out.”
Sharon took her cue. “Which brings me to this: We need to expand. I’ve done the forecasting. With or without Grant’s connections, Monica, we dying…we’re stretched too thin. There’s no way we can handle the volume of clients coming in. We’re bursting at the seams as it is. I can show you the numbers…”
“No,” Monica took her seat and took a swig of water. “I knew it would happen sooner or later. What are we looking at?”
“We need at least two new locations; New York and LA. Obviously, I’d manage the New York office and Joy can head-up the LA division.”
“Bring Joy on as a partner?! No. It won’t work. I can’t be partners with a former employee.” Monica’s pity party was over.
“Do you want her as our competition? Like you said, she knows the business inside and out. She hasn’t said anything but, if she wanted to she could very well pull off the same takeover we did over at Flemings.” Sharon said with all the delicacy of a red hot spit fork.
Monica shook her head. There was no sense in fighting or ignoring the writing on the wall. Maybe the timing wasn’t so bad. She needed the distraction. “One new office, New York, for now. Joy can go with you and I’ll stay here. We’ll give it six months, if she can handle New York than LA won’t be a problem.”
“Mon,” Sharon said cautiously. “You need to rehire Annalisa. KC is overworking her and you’ll need the help once Joy and I leave.” She gave Monica the hand when she tried to protest. “Don’t start. She was a junior employee but she was one of our best. You know what it’s like coming from nothing. She never asked for anything but a chance to prove herself and she did. So what, she made a mistake…we all do. Now isn’t the time to save face. You need to call her.”
“No,” Monica said squarely and then her tone softened. “Not right now.” Do you think Scott and Anna are…together?”
“I don’t believe for a moment they’re anything more than friends. He still loves you, Mon. He’s just hurting—Courtney did a number on him and then…well you know.” she stopped, there was no sense in stating the obvious.
“I messed up.” Her words were spoken more for herself than for Sharon. She took a deep breath and said brightly, “Mrs. Fitz called. She throwing dinner party tomorrow night, you guys coming?”
“You’re going?”
“Yeah. I am. It’s time to face everyone. Even Scott.”
*******
Scott, on the other hand, wasn’t sure he was ready to face Monica. His breakup with Courtney was made increasingly difficult because they were in constant contact…they lived together six months afterward. Even by modern standards this was a bit much to ask. He’d be damned if the breakup with Monica would follow the same path. But seeing her, being in the same room knowing her smile masked her sorrow, might be his undoing.
It wasn’t all Monica’s fault, the failure of their relationship, and he wanted to tell her so…but how? Even to his own ear, his thoughts were convoluted. How could he express them to her? That night, mistakes were made…their emotions were high, but the fact remained: She’d acted spitefully without just cause and laid down the gauntlet with her heated ultimatum. He couldn’t be blamed for that.
Monica spotted Scott’s black Acura TL as soon as they pulled into the Fitz’s circular driveway. Sharon saw the tension crawled across her shoulders as they trudged towards the house.
“Mon,” Sharon tugged at Monica’s sleeve. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? We don’t have to go inside. I’ll call Mr. Fitz from the car. He’ll understand.”
“No. I’m ready.” She lied.
Unmoved by her words, Sharon didn’t budge. “You know he’s here…”
“What if he’s here with Anna?”
“I don’t think they’re together but if they are then so be it. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. She smiled and started for the door.
Inside they were met by Mr. Fitz. His warm fatherly embrace threatened to send Monica into tears. He’d always had that affect on her. Mrs. Fitz came bounding towards her with open arms—more or less colliding with rather than hugging her and then held her at a distance peppering her with questions. Just as Monica thought she’d lose it, Scott appeared from the sitting room. Her eyes flew to the floor, her stopped breathing, and worry performed cartwheels in her belly. She wanted to run—anywhere but here with everyone’s eyes on them. She felt Sharon’s fingers interlace with hers, it was then she realized they’d been trembling. It’s too soon, she told herself.
At first sight, Scott’s heart leapt. Thankfully his timber-like legs anchored him to the floor. Everyone was frozen in frame thick with silence—incessant—impenetrable—painful silence. With three sets of eyes on him, Scott flashed a quick grin, swallowed heavily, and excused himself before things became really uncomfortable. It’s too soon, he told himself.
Thanks to a vat of wine and Mr. Fitz’s endless supply of embarrassing stories of the rich and famous, dinner had gone pleasant enough. Grant arrived late but wasted no time jumping in with the rest of them. He expected to come into a scene where the women-folk were kicking Scott’s bloody and beaten body around like a soccer ball but Scott didn’t seem to need his help. He and Monica occupied their time stealing nervous glances across the table. This wasn’t lost on anyone… nor was the parties’ comedic retreat into the living room.
“Monica,” Mrs. Fitz called. “Would mind grabbing another bottle of wine from the kitchen? Thank you.” She sauntered off, leaving Monica and Scott alone.
“I believe that’s our cue to talk.” Scott rubbed the back of his head. “Come on.” He started towards the kitchen. “How have you been?” He stopped when he realized she wasn’t following him. He traced his steps and found Monica sitting one of the small alcoves, her palms pressed to her face. He kneeled and took her in his arms. Her anguish bleed through his shirt, and her gasping sobs left him winded. He cupped her face and kissed her tear soaked lips. “Shhh, it’s just you and me now. Calm down, alright?” She was worse off than he anticipated.
“Scott, I’m sorry. I made a stupid mistake and don’t know how to fit it,” She said between huffs. “I don’t care about anything else, I just want you back. I’m so unhappy without you. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have fired Anna. I shouldn’t have treated you that way. I’m sorry,” She rested her forehead on his shoulder. “Please take me back.”
Scott’s reserve faltered as he held her. The words she longed to hear roiled in his throat, begging for release, aching to soothe her troubles. He yearned to say the words she needed to hear but not at the expense of his conscience.
Neither spoke for minutes on end. There was no need.
“Am I to take your silence as a ‘no’?” Monica forced the question from her mouth.
Scott stared into her eyes and shook his head, no. “I love you but…I can’t go down that road again.”
Monica exhaled the last of her self-confidence. “Was being with me that terrible?”
“No, being with you wasn’t terrible,” he thumbed her cheek and smiled. “It was stressful at times but never terrible. It’s not all your fault. I played my part. I measured you against Courtney, the worse of the worse. I placed you on a pedestal of my own making and when you didn’t meet my expectations, my feelings for you turned to fears.”
“You’re afraid I’ll become Courtney because I made one silly mistake? That’s not fair.”
“When you put it like that, it does seem silly but it’s not. Your reaction was too natural—your ultimatum came too easily, which calls your character into question. I’m not saying you’re a horrible person, you’re not. I should’ve stopped your overprotective behavior when I saw it reach a fever pitch. You try to take care of everyone around you and take too much on your plate and when you fail, you act out. I understand why you’re this way but you need time to figure out ‘Monica’—and what she wants. Stop worrying about everyone else and focus on you for a while.” His soft smiled mirrored hers.
“You’re right. I’m high-strung. Maybe it’s time I work on myself.”
“You’re not alone. I have work to do as well.”
New tears pooled in her eyes and streaked down her cheeks. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“God, I love you,” He kissed her and spoke onto her wet lips, “You’re my hardest goodbye.”
With that, the last embers of their relationship were snuffed.
**UPDATED**
Fox & Hound: Part Seven
The last thing Monica, an Afro-American woman, wanted was a last night pub crawl with people she hardly knew until she was introduced to Scott, a tall, devilishly stunning man. As the night quickly progressed they find themselves exploring their sexual limits....
Fox & Hound: Part Seven
The last thing Monica, an Afro-American woman, wanted was a last night pub crawl with people she hardly knew until she was introduced to Scott, a tall, devilishly stunning man. As the night quickly progressed they find themselves exploring their sexual limits....
Fox & Hound: Part Seven
It had taken Scott over a week to track down Dr. Greene and less than five minutes to convince him to meet Anna. She needed guidance—guidance he hadn’t the time or energy to give. Dr. Greene, on the other hand, loved nothing more than shaping a sensible mind. He could be a hard nut to crack however Scott was certain Dr. Greene would take her under his roof. His children were raising families of their own and his wife had given her blessing after their initial conversation.
Scott and Anna met Dr. Greene for lunch between classes. It was difficult to read his blank face but given the fact he didn’t walk out before the waitress took their order was money in the bank. Anna answered his questions articulately and politely but Dr. Greene felt she masked low self-esteem—an epidemic raging amongst young women.
“Are you in school?” Dr. Greene asked expressionlessly.
“No, sir.” Anna replied. “I came to Atlanta to find a career.”
“Your career begins with education. Without a degree, what you do between 9-5 is a job, not a career.” His eyes moved back and forth between her and Scott. He forwent the protracted lecture “You’re working?”
“Yes, sir. I’m a full-time event assistant…” she answered before Dr. Greene interrupted.
“You’re working too many hours. You don’t need the money. Your education comes first.” His face relaxed to a smile as he stood. “We’ll be out of town for two weeks. By the time we return you should be moved in. Come by my office tomorrow—you’re getting into school if it kills me. And if I see that peanut-head ex-boyfriend of yours lurking around, I’ll put a bullet in his ass.”
“It won’t come to that. I haven’t heard from him.” Anna beamed. “Thank you.”
That had been over a mouth ago.
Scott and Monica hadn’t spoken since he walked out of her door. There was little to say. It wasn’t as though they were friends before they began dating. There was no reason for them to keep in contact. Well, aside from the fact that her best friend was marrying Grant, who within a short period of time had become one of his closest friends and both of their ties with the Fitzpatrick’s, who were doing everything in their power to reconcile the happily unhappy couple.
They were unhappy indeed. Scott’s life didn’t skip a beat. Once Anna moved in with Dr. Greene, he dove into his studies and began getting over Monica. Getting over her was proving more difficult than he imagined. He could no sooner get over her than he could pull every star from the sky. Her presence plagued every passing second, smothering him like an emotional miasma. The anxiety was there, swirling around the banal; eddying around his insecurities; circling around his ego; churning his emotions. Yes, the anxiety is there, but so was the constant knowledge that they needed to be apart. His mouth watered with the prospect of walking away from her with neither insouciance nor sadness. He just wanted to let go.
Monica, his beautiful Monica, was miserable—unequivocally—incandescently miserable. No showy masquerade was needed; everyone knew their breakup devastated her. Sharon struggled to meet their prior commitments and juggle the new jobs pouring in while Monica was out of commission. Out of commission was an understatement. Monica hadn’t been in the office since the breakup. She couldn’t bring herself get out of bed much less reenter society. No, she closed her eyes and slipped into mental purgatory where atop the emotional rubble of her failed relationship sat see-saw which never seemed to lift her out of the dreck of self-doubt long enough to escape her persistent state of misery.
Her sleep, when there was any, came late and after much coaxing, and many rounds of counting her heartbeats. When she did finally sleep, she tossed erratically—she slept aware of her sleeping….bobbing on the surface of unconsciousness like a fishing float, rather than submerged like a convert in Lethean waters. Not that sleep would offer reprieve. Scott was there in her dreams…pieces of him so clear she could feel his essence, his fingers, his scent, and his kisses. These were the dreams from which she awoke weeping.
Sharon and Mrs. Fitz’s words of encouragement only went so far. Monica would have to heal herself in due course. She managed to pack his forgotten belongings and placed them in the living room, waiting for Sharon to pick them up. Two boxes…their relationship boiled down to two interchangeable lackluster brown boxes.
“Knock Knock,” Sharon said coming through Monica’s front door. She went straight to the kitchen with bags of take-out. “I came over early because Grant’s flying in tomorrow and I needed to run some errands. I figured you wouldn’t be up for going out so…here I am.” She was surprised to find Monica dressed, questionably so, but dressed nonetheless. Anything was better than seeing her encased in leggings and swimming in oversized tee shirts. Her hair was another story—tragically pushed up in a bizarre not-quit-right knot on the top of her head. But it was a start. “You’re looking better.” She plopped down beside her on the sofa.
Monica rolled her eyes and continued flipping through the channels. “How are the wedding plans coming?”
“Great,” Sharon said sarcastically. “I need your help. KC is driving me crazy. When are you coming back to work?”
“Why?” Monica heaved herself off the sofa and went to the kitchen. “Things going badly?”
“Um, yeah! I need some help. You can wallow in self-pity after hours. I’m getting killed.”
“I’ll be back in the office Monday until then, I’ll work from home. Thanks for taking up the slack.”
“Whatever. Just throw me a bone damn it. I’ve hired a new girl, Bree. You’ll hate her. I do. But she’s experienced so she’ll do for now. Joy is threatening to leave if she doesn’t”
“Joy can’t leave. We’d be lost. She knows the business inside and out.”
Sharon took her cue. “Which brings me to this: We need to expand. I’ve done the forecasting. With or without Grant’s connections, Monica, we dying…we’re stretched too thin. There’s no way we can handle the volume of clients coming in. We’re bursting at the seams as it is. I can show you the numbers…”
“No,” Monica took her seat and took a swig of water. “I knew it would happen sooner or later. What are we looking at?”
“We need at least two new locations; New York and LA. Obviously, I’d manage the New York office and Joy can head-up the LA division.”
“Bring Joy on as a partner?! No. It won’t work. I can’t be partners with a former employee.” Monica’s pity party was over.
“Do you want her as our competition? Like you said, she knows the business inside and out. She hasn’t said anything but, if she wanted to she could very well pull off the same takeover we did over at Flemings.” Sharon said with all the delicacy of a red hot spit fork.
Monica shook her head. There was no sense in fighting or ignoring the writing on the wall. Maybe the timing wasn’t so bad. She needed the distraction. “One new office, New York, for now. Joy can go with you and I’ll stay here. We’ll give it six months, if she can handle New York than LA won’t be a problem.”
“Mon,” Sharon said cautiously. “You need to rehire Annalisa. KC is overworking her and you’ll need the help once Joy and I leave.” She gave Monica the hand when she tried to protest. “Don’t start. She was a junior employee but she was one of our best. You know what it’s like coming from nothing. She never asked for anything but a chance to prove herself and she did. So what, she made a mistake…we all do. Now isn’t the time to save face. You need to call her.”
“No,” Monica said squarely and then her tone softened. “Not right now.” Do you think Scott and Anna are…together?”
“I don’t believe for a moment they’re anything more than friends. He still loves you, Mon. He’s just hurting—Courtney did a number on him and then…well you know.” she stopped, there was no sense in stating the obvious.
“I messed up.” Her words were spoken more for herself than for Sharon. She took a deep breath and said brightly, “Mrs. Fitz called. She throwing dinner party tomorrow night, you guys coming?”
“You’re going?”
“Yeah. I am. It’s time to face everyone. Even Scott.”
*******
Scott, on the other hand, wasn’t sure he was ready to face Monica. His breakup with Courtney was made increasingly difficult because they were in constant contact…they lived together six months afterward. Even by modern standards this was a bit much to ask. He’d be damned if the breakup with Monica would follow the same path. But seeing her, being in the same room knowing her smile masked her sorrow, might be his undoing.
It wasn’t all Monica’s fault, the failure of their relationship, and he wanted to tell her so…but how? Even to his own ear, his thoughts were convoluted. How could he express them to her? That night, mistakes were made…their emotions were high, but the fact remained: She’d acted spitefully without just cause and laid down the gauntlet with her heated ultimatum. He couldn’t be blamed for that.
Monica spotted Scott’s black Acura TL as soon as they pulled into the Fitz’s circular driveway. Sharon saw the tension crawled across her shoulders as they trudged towards the house.
“Mon,” Sharon tugged at Monica’s sleeve. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? We don’t have to go inside. I’ll call Mr. Fitz from the car. He’ll understand.”
“No. I’m ready.” She lied.
Unmoved by her words, Sharon didn’t budge. “You know he’s here…”
“What if he’s here with Anna?”
“I don’t think they’re together but if they are then so be it. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. She smiled and started for the door.
Inside they were met by Mr. Fitz. His warm fatherly embrace threatened to send Monica into tears. He’d always had that affect on her. Mrs. Fitz came bounding towards her with open arms—more or less colliding with rather than hugging her and then held her at a distance peppering her with questions. Just as Monica thought she’d lose it, Scott appeared from the sitting room. Her eyes flew to the floor, her stopped breathing, and worry performed cartwheels in her belly. She wanted to run—anywhere but here with everyone’s eyes on them. She felt Sharon’s fingers interlace with hers, it was then she realized they’d been trembling. It’s too soon, she told herself.
At first sight, Scott’s heart leapt. Thankfully his timber-like legs anchored him to the floor. Everyone was frozen in frame thick with silence—incessant—impenetrable—painful silence. With three sets of eyes on him, Scott flashed a quick grin, swallowed heavily, and excused himself before things became really uncomfortable. It’s too soon, he told himself.
Thanks to a vat of wine and Mr. Fitz’s endless supply of embarrassing stories of the rich and famous, dinner had gone pleasant enough. Grant arrived late but wasted no time jumping in with the rest of them. He expected to come into a scene where the women-folk were kicking Scott’s bloody and beaten body around like a soccer ball but Scott didn’t seem to need his help. He and Monica occupied their time stealing nervous glances across the table. This wasn’t lost on anyone… nor was the parties’ comedic retreat into the living room.
“Monica,” Mrs. Fitz called. “Would mind grabbing another bottle of wine from the kitchen? Thank you.” She sauntered off, leaving Monica and Scott alone.
“I believe that’s our cue to talk.” Scott rubbed the back of his head. “Come on.” He started towards the kitchen. “How have you been?” He stopped when he realized she wasn’t following him. He traced his steps and found Monica sitting one of the small alcoves, her palms pressed to her face. He kneeled and took her in his arms. Her anguish bleed through his shirt, and her gasping sobs left him winded. He cupped her face and kissed her tear soaked lips. “Shhh, it’s just you and me now. Calm down, alright?” She was worse off than he anticipated.
“Scott, I’m sorry. I made a stupid mistake and don’t know how to fit it,” She said between huffs. “I don’t care about anything else, I just want you back. I’m so unhappy without you. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have fired Anna. I shouldn’t have treated you that way. I’m sorry,” She rested her forehead on his shoulder. “Please take me back.”
Scott’s reserve faltered as he held her. The words she longed to hear roiled in his throat, begging for release, aching to soothe her troubles. He yearned to say the words she needed to hear but not at the expense of his conscience.
Neither spoke for minutes on end. There was no need.
“Am I to take your silence as a ‘no’?” Monica forced the question from her mouth.
Scott stared into her eyes and shook his head, no. “I love you but…I can’t go down that road again.”
Monica exhaled the last of her self-confidence. “Was being with me that terrible?”
“No, being with you wasn’t terrible,” he thumbed her cheek and smiled. “It was stressful at times but never terrible. It’s not all your fault. I played my part. I measured you against Courtney, the worse of the worse. I placed you on a pedestal of my own making and when you didn’t meet my expectations, my feelings for you turned to fears.”
“You’re afraid I’ll become Courtney because I made one silly mistake? That’s not fair.”
“When you put it like that, it does seem silly but it’s not. Your reaction was too natural—your ultimatum came too easily, which calls your character into question. I’m not saying you’re a horrible person, you’re not. I should’ve stopped your overprotective behavior when I saw it reach a fever pitch. You try to take care of everyone around you and take too much on your plate and when you fail, you act out. I understand why you’re this way but you need time to figure out ‘Monica’—and what she wants. Stop worrying about everyone else and focus on you for a while.” His soft smiled mirrored hers.
“You’re right. I’m high-strung. Maybe it’s time I work on myself.”
“You’re not alone. I have work to do as well.”
New tears pooled in her eyes and streaked down her cheeks. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“God, I love you,” He kissed her and spoke onto her wet lips, “You’re my hardest goodbye.”
With that, the last embers of their relationship were snuffed.
Fox & Hound: Part Seven
Things between KC and Anna had reached a breaking point. Overworked and sick of being blamed for others failures, Anna quit. While the Greene’s weren’t charging her rent, she’d never been without a steady job and now she was living off of her small saving and financial aid allotments. Mrs. Greene suggested she talk to Sharon and see what could be done but, again, Anna was afraid and more so embarrassed for the uproar she’d caused. How could she face the other employees? She’d be an outcast—plus her ongoing relationship with Scott would spark rumors.
Furthermore, how could she face Monica? In no short order, she’d destroyed her relationship with Scott. Though he tried to hide his unhappiness behind mountain of work and studies it was plain to see. And his constantly reassurances that it wasn’t her fault only cemented the fact that it was her fault—at least in her mind. It pained Anna to see him unhappy and she imagined Monica wasn’t managing any better. The reports from Joy were always upbeat and positive but of course they would be—Joy knew which side her bread was buttered.
Joy promised to put in a good word for her, hoping that in time things would blow over. Lord knows Joy needed the help. With the new flood of clients she was working like Kunta Kinte before they took the hatchet to his foot! And then there was the predicament with Bree. Bree, a twenty something year old white tart who flaunted her emaciated body around the office dressed like a prostitute, got on Joys’ damn nerves. Sharon and Joy sat back and waited for a Bree and Cody to have a proper run in…they needed a good laugh. Instead it was Mrs. Fitz who delivered the decisive blow.
Mrs. Fitz paraded into the office for her weekly lunch with Sharon and Monica like the Grand Duchess she was—employees catching her coat, purse and whatever else she thought to discard during her procession.
“May I help you?” Bree asked her tone reeked with attitude.
Mrs. Fritz stopped in step, her head whipped towards the ignoring sound of an underling addressing her in a harsh manner. Her eyes cut the now trembling Bree to pieces. “Who. Are. You?” she asked and took a glass on water Joy offered.
“I’m Bree.” She stuck out her hand.
Mrs. Fitz looked at it and back to Bree’s hollowed out face. “Darling, don’t touch me. What is it you do here?”
Bree looked to Sharon now standing arms crossed in her doorway and answered proudly, “I’m a junior events coordinator.”
“You took Annalisa position.” Mrs. Fitz purred. “Enjoy it while it lasts. You won’t be here for long especially if you continue to give Joy headaches.” She stepped closer and whispered, “You don’t know me and I don’t have the power to fire you, but I can make your life very uncomfortable. Now, you mind yourself around these girls. They’re like my family, you understand?”
Bree had the smarts not to answer.
“Good,” Mrs. Fitz clapped her hands and turned to Sharon. “You feel like getting a bite to eat? I have an appointment with Cody later.”
Joy stood sipping the remaining water from Mrs. Fitz’s bottle—smiling and gloating. From then on Bree was painfully passive.
******
Meanwhile, Sharon dragged Monica to every wellness seminar Atlanta had to offer. They meditated in search of their higher selves but ultimately came to the same conclusion: They needed to resolve their past family conflicts which was easier said than done. Monica’s parents were deceased and only Sharon’s mother survived, but where? Her mothers’ nomadic ways made it difficult for Sharon to locate her. Finally, after months of effort Sharon gave up and decided to sort out her problems in therapy. Monica wasn’t too far behind. Oddly, both found therapy beneficial, if for nothing other than the break it provided from the drudges of work.
For Sharon, the thought of meeting Grant’s family was sending her blood pressure through the roof. Grant was normal, she could handle him but his family was made up of wealthy snobs or so she’d heard. He assured her she’d be fine and welcomed with open arms…but of course he’d say that. He hadn’t a clue of the struggles she’d seen and when face with then, he didn’t bat an eye. She took him by her old neighborhood with the typical day-to-day activities of the projects playing out. He didn’t rip his ring from her hand and disavow any knowledge of her—he shrugged and walked back to the car with a trail of children on his heels, yapping up a storm.
Sharon burst into tears and laughter and wondered if he was fazed by anything. Nothing seemed to surprise him or get under his skin. It wasn’t in his nature.
Grant and Scott sat around playing cards while Sharon called constantly giving him an itemized list of all the wedding expenditures. Patiently, he listened with the phone pressed to his ears and continued playing. He didn’t hear a word she was saying but ended each call with “I love you. Call again if you need me.”
“How do you do it?” Scott asked shaking his head.
“What, that?” Grant rearranged his cards. “Easy. I’ve made peace with the inescapable fact that deep down everyone is more than a little insane.” He laid his hand on the table. “Show.”
Scott threw down his hand and took the pot as Grant gathered, shuffled and dealt the cards. “You’re not the least bit concerned about what Sharon’s buying?”
“Not at all. For all I know she’s spending my money on bubble gum and unicorn rides,” he chuckled. “It’s none of my business. My job is to stay out of trouble and let her buy whatever whimsical shit makes her happy.”
“Self-preservation, my friend.” Scott dished a few bills in the kitty.
“Exactly. Unlike you, I know I have a good woman.” Grant examined his hand and sucked his teeth and threw a wad on the table. “Monica made a mistake but wild horses couldn’t have dragged me away from her. If she and Sharon were men, we’d judge them differently. Women like them are expected to think like men but act like women. And when they make mistakes, they’re condemned by both sexes.” He placed his cards down. “Show.”
Scott did so and took the pot.
Grant fell back in his seat and then stood. “Come on, I’m sick of losing money to you. Let’s go out.”
“Go out?” Scott came to his feet. “Are taking me out to meet women?”
“Hell no! Remember, self-preservation? If Monica finds out you’ve met a woman, she’ll cry…which would make Sharon angry…which would make my life a living hell. I hope you never meet anyone…ever.” He checked reflection in a wall hanging. “Besides, I give it two months before you and Monica are back together.”
Scott laughed. “I don’t think so.”
“Then you’re a fool.” He turned to Scott and said with all sincerity. “I’ll call Sharon from the car. She and Monica are busy with wedding BS.”
******
Wedding BS wasn’t exactly what Monica and Sharon were up to. They’d spent most of the evening checking and re-checking wedding details and the remaining time was spent with Monica wrestling with the idea of calling Scott for a booty call. Nonsensical, yes…but very tempting given her state of arousal. She and Scott had seen one another in passing at the Fitz’s house—once with Anna present.
Monica squared her shoulders, carried herself with class and dignity and even invited Anna to stop by the office for lunch.
Anna eagerly accepted. Monica’s friendship meant more to her than even she’d realized. Scott and Monica said their goodbyes by Monica recoiled from his touch. Anna sensed their tension and went to the car leaving them to talk.
Scott moved closer to Monica but she placed her hand on his chest, keeping him at a distance. His lips curled. “You’re jealous?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re sleeping with my former employee, my much younger former employee.” He took a step closer and she gasped as he loomed over her—so close his heat dizzied her.
“Why would I want her? I love you,” He removed her hand from his chest and kissed her fingers. “Do you have any idea what being this close to you is doing to me?”
Monica may not have known the effect she had on Scott but Anna sure did. She was the one waiting in the car while they spent the next ten minutes sucking face. Why they didn’t reconcile was beyond her. All told, it was beyond everyone’s reasoning. Scott and Monica were still undeniably in love with one another and apart they were absolutely miserable.
“I want Scott to come over so I can fuck my way into oblivion. I’m so horny.” Monica announced candidly as she and Sharon lie in bed staring up at the ceiling.
“It’ll only make matters worse. Use your toys.” Sharon offered.
“I can’t cum with them. My genitals are finicky. They’re high-maintenance, high-strung. The rest of my body fawns over and caters to them. I can’t even move I’m so horny.”
“Well, don’t look at me. I’m good for a cuddle but you’ll have to sort out your own genitals.” Sharon curled into Monica’s side.
“I miss Scott.”
“You miss his penis.”
“That too.”
******
The theatrical house music ricocheted off the walls of the small bar. By the time the DJ took a break, Scott was ready to leave.
“I’m outta here,” He finished his beer.
“Already?”
“Yeah, I’m horny. I’m calling Monica. Goodnight.”
Grant stopped him. “Calling your ex-girlfriend when you’re slightly pissed isn’t a good idea.” He swallowed the last of his drink. “Let me pay the tab and use the restroom and we’ll go. Call the car, tell the driver to circle the block until he sees us.” With that he left Scott fishing for his phone.
“Hi, didn’t think I’d see you in here. Doesn’t seem like your kind of hangout.” A cheerful female said.
Scott looked up and met eyes with a stunning golden eyed brunette smiling at him. “Hi,” he flashed a grin and went back to searching for the drivers’ number. “It’s not my scene. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be studying?”
“The group meets tomorrow night. Are you coming?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“Scott,” she placed her hand on his. “You should come out with us. You might learn something.”
“I’m good.” Scott moved away just as Grant returned.
“Hello!” Grant said teasingly prompting the lady to introduce herself seeing Scotts’ disinterest.
“Hi, I’m Willow.”
Grant laughed. “No, seriously, what’s your name?”
“Willow.” She repeated.
“Ew,” Grant looked on regrettably. “Well, nice to meet you, Willow?” The question mark at the end of his greeting erased all sincerity. “How to do you do Scott, Willow?”
“We have a couple of classes together but him seems to be avoiding me.” He nudged Scott.
Don’t touch me, Scott thought but said instead. “I’m not avoiding you. I’m busy. We’d better go. Bye!”
She took Scott’s hand which he yanked away. “Call me tomorrow. Will you a least meet me for coffee?”
Scott looked at Grant who was suddenly keenly interested in the floor tile. “Coffee?”
“Coffee. You can bring your books.” She waited impatiently for an answer.
“Maybe, but don’t count on it. I have to go. Our car’s waiting.”
Grant breathed a sigh of relief but he knew his job—his task—his mission wouldn’t be complete until Scott was home tucked in his bed and dead to the world. 2:47am and his mission was complete. Scott was showered and sleeping. It was safe to leave.
3:20am Scott’s phone rang jarring him from sleep. It was Monica; her raspy sleepy voice broke through his weakened defenses. Do not invite her over, he repeated to himself. “Hey. What’s wrong?” Scott asked kicking himself. “I wanted call you earlier.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I wanted to call you too.”
Okay, invite her over but don’t stick your penis in her. “You should’ve called. We’re still friend, aren’t we? No, you’re not friends. You want to screw her!
“Right. I can’t sleep.” She pouted hoping he’d ask. “I miss you.” She added for insurance.
Don’t do it!! He heard Grant screaming from the back of his head. The elementary school back and forth word game was killing him. He wanted to throw caution to the wind. He recognized that all wasn’t healthy in their worlds but screw it; he’d whitewash his conscious tomorrow. He wanted his woman! All of her; flaws and all! “You wanna come over?”
“If you promise to hold me.”
“Monica, if you come over here, I’m fucking you in the ass. I want you so badly. Do you think we’re ready for that?”
God, she hated when he made logical sense. “My therapist says we shouldn’t see each other for a while. But I miss you and I love you so much.”
“I love you too, pretty girl. So, tell me about your therapy. How’s it going?”
They talked for until sunrise before falling asleep in their own beds…and awoke feeling better about their decision to tough it out. Astonishingly, they never felt so close or in love.
Furthermore, how could she face Monica? In no short order, she’d destroyed her relationship with Scott. Though he tried to hide his unhappiness behind mountain of work and studies it was plain to see. And his constantly reassurances that it wasn’t her fault only cemented the fact that it was her fault—at least in her mind. It pained Anna to see him unhappy and she imagined Monica wasn’t managing any better. The reports from Joy were always upbeat and positive but of course they would be—Joy knew which side her bread was buttered.
Joy promised to put in a good word for her, hoping that in time things would blow over. Lord knows Joy needed the help. With the new flood of clients she was working like Kunta Kinte before they took the hatchet to his foot! And then there was the predicament with Bree. Bree, a twenty something year old white tart who flaunted her emaciated body around the office dressed like a prostitute, got on Joys’ damn nerves. Sharon and Joy sat back and waited for a Bree and Cody to have a proper run in…they needed a good laugh. Instead it was Mrs. Fitz who delivered the decisive blow.
Mrs. Fitz paraded into the office for her weekly lunch with Sharon and Monica like the Grand Duchess she was—employees catching her coat, purse and whatever else she thought to discard during her procession.
“May I help you?” Bree asked her tone reeked with attitude.
Mrs. Fritz stopped in step, her head whipped towards the ignoring sound of an underling addressing her in a harsh manner. Her eyes cut the now trembling Bree to pieces. “Who. Are. You?” she asked and took a glass on water Joy offered.
“I’m Bree.” She stuck out her hand.
Mrs. Fitz looked at it and back to Bree’s hollowed out face. “Darling, don’t touch me. What is it you do here?”
Bree looked to Sharon now standing arms crossed in her doorway and answered proudly, “I’m a junior events coordinator.”
“You took Annalisa position.” Mrs. Fitz purred. “Enjoy it while it lasts. You won’t be here for long especially if you continue to give Joy headaches.” She stepped closer and whispered, “You don’t know me and I don’t have the power to fire you, but I can make your life very uncomfortable. Now, you mind yourself around these girls. They’re like my family, you understand?”
Bree had the smarts not to answer.
“Good,” Mrs. Fitz clapped her hands and turned to Sharon. “You feel like getting a bite to eat? I have an appointment with Cody later.”
Joy stood sipping the remaining water from Mrs. Fitz’s bottle—smiling and gloating. From then on Bree was painfully passive.
******
Meanwhile, Sharon dragged Monica to every wellness seminar Atlanta had to offer. They meditated in search of their higher selves but ultimately came to the same conclusion: They needed to resolve their past family conflicts which was easier said than done. Monica’s parents were deceased and only Sharon’s mother survived, but where? Her mothers’ nomadic ways made it difficult for Sharon to locate her. Finally, after months of effort Sharon gave up and decided to sort out her problems in therapy. Monica wasn’t too far behind. Oddly, both found therapy beneficial, if for nothing other than the break it provided from the drudges of work.
For Sharon, the thought of meeting Grant’s family was sending her blood pressure through the roof. Grant was normal, she could handle him but his family was made up of wealthy snobs or so she’d heard. He assured her she’d be fine and welcomed with open arms…but of course he’d say that. He hadn’t a clue of the struggles she’d seen and when face with then, he didn’t bat an eye. She took him by her old neighborhood with the typical day-to-day activities of the projects playing out. He didn’t rip his ring from her hand and disavow any knowledge of her—he shrugged and walked back to the car with a trail of children on his heels, yapping up a storm.
Sharon burst into tears and laughter and wondered if he was fazed by anything. Nothing seemed to surprise him or get under his skin. It wasn’t in his nature.
Grant and Scott sat around playing cards while Sharon called constantly giving him an itemized list of all the wedding expenditures. Patiently, he listened with the phone pressed to his ears and continued playing. He didn’t hear a word she was saying but ended each call with “I love you. Call again if you need me.”
“How do you do it?” Scott asked shaking his head.
“What, that?” Grant rearranged his cards. “Easy. I’ve made peace with the inescapable fact that deep down everyone is more than a little insane.” He laid his hand on the table. “Show.”
Scott threw down his hand and took the pot as Grant gathered, shuffled and dealt the cards. “You’re not the least bit concerned about what Sharon’s buying?”
“Not at all. For all I know she’s spending my money on bubble gum and unicorn rides,” he chuckled. “It’s none of my business. My job is to stay out of trouble and let her buy whatever whimsical shit makes her happy.”
“Self-preservation, my friend.” Scott dished a few bills in the kitty.
“Exactly. Unlike you, I know I have a good woman.” Grant examined his hand and sucked his teeth and threw a wad on the table. “Monica made a mistake but wild horses couldn’t have dragged me away from her. If she and Sharon were men, we’d judge them differently. Women like them are expected to think like men but act like women. And when they make mistakes, they’re condemned by both sexes.” He placed his cards down. “Show.”
Scott did so and took the pot.
Grant fell back in his seat and then stood. “Come on, I’m sick of losing money to you. Let’s go out.”
“Go out?” Scott came to his feet. “Are taking me out to meet women?”
“Hell no! Remember, self-preservation? If Monica finds out you’ve met a woman, she’ll cry…which would make Sharon angry…which would make my life a living hell. I hope you never meet anyone…ever.” He checked reflection in a wall hanging. “Besides, I give it two months before you and Monica are back together.”
Scott laughed. “I don’t think so.”
“Then you’re a fool.” He turned to Scott and said with all sincerity. “I’ll call Sharon from the car. She and Monica are busy with wedding BS.”
******
Wedding BS wasn’t exactly what Monica and Sharon were up to. They’d spent most of the evening checking and re-checking wedding details and the remaining time was spent with Monica wrestling with the idea of calling Scott for a booty call. Nonsensical, yes…but very tempting given her state of arousal. She and Scott had seen one another in passing at the Fitz’s house—once with Anna present.
Monica squared her shoulders, carried herself with class and dignity and even invited Anna to stop by the office for lunch.
Anna eagerly accepted. Monica’s friendship meant more to her than even she’d realized. Scott and Monica said their goodbyes by Monica recoiled from his touch. Anna sensed their tension and went to the car leaving them to talk.
Scott moved closer to Monica but she placed her hand on his chest, keeping him at a distance. His lips curled. “You’re jealous?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re sleeping with my former employee, my much younger former employee.” He took a step closer and she gasped as he loomed over her—so close his heat dizzied her.
“Why would I want her? I love you,” He removed her hand from his chest and kissed her fingers. “Do you have any idea what being this close to you is doing to me?”
Monica may not have known the effect she had on Scott but Anna sure did. She was the one waiting in the car while they spent the next ten minutes sucking face. Why they didn’t reconcile was beyond her. All told, it was beyond everyone’s reasoning. Scott and Monica were still undeniably in love with one another and apart they were absolutely miserable.
“I want Scott to come over so I can fuck my way into oblivion. I’m so horny.” Monica announced candidly as she and Sharon lie in bed staring up at the ceiling.
“It’ll only make matters worse. Use your toys.” Sharon offered.
“I can’t cum with them. My genitals are finicky. They’re high-maintenance, high-strung. The rest of my body fawns over and caters to them. I can’t even move I’m so horny.”
“Well, don’t look at me. I’m good for a cuddle but you’ll have to sort out your own genitals.” Sharon curled into Monica’s side.
“I miss Scott.”
“You miss his penis.”
“That too.”
******
The theatrical house music ricocheted off the walls of the small bar. By the time the DJ took a break, Scott was ready to leave.
“I’m outta here,” He finished his beer.
“Already?”
“Yeah, I’m horny. I’m calling Monica. Goodnight.”
Grant stopped him. “Calling your ex-girlfriend when you’re slightly pissed isn’t a good idea.” He swallowed the last of his drink. “Let me pay the tab and use the restroom and we’ll go. Call the car, tell the driver to circle the block until he sees us.” With that he left Scott fishing for his phone.
“Hi, didn’t think I’d see you in here. Doesn’t seem like your kind of hangout.” A cheerful female said.
Scott looked up and met eyes with a stunning golden eyed brunette smiling at him. “Hi,” he flashed a grin and went back to searching for the drivers’ number. “It’s not my scene. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be studying?”
“The group meets tomorrow night. Are you coming?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“Scott,” she placed her hand on his. “You should come out with us. You might learn something.”
“I’m good.” Scott moved away just as Grant returned.
“Hello!” Grant said teasingly prompting the lady to introduce herself seeing Scotts’ disinterest.
“Hi, I’m Willow.”
Grant laughed. “No, seriously, what’s your name?”
“Willow.” She repeated.
“Ew,” Grant looked on regrettably. “Well, nice to meet you, Willow?” The question mark at the end of his greeting erased all sincerity. “How to do you do Scott, Willow?”
“We have a couple of classes together but him seems to be avoiding me.” He nudged Scott.
Don’t touch me, Scott thought but said instead. “I’m not avoiding you. I’m busy. We’d better go. Bye!”
She took Scott’s hand which he yanked away. “Call me tomorrow. Will you a least meet me for coffee?”
Scott looked at Grant who was suddenly keenly interested in the floor tile. “Coffee?”
“Coffee. You can bring your books.” She waited impatiently for an answer.
“Maybe, but don’t count on it. I have to go. Our car’s waiting.”
Grant breathed a sigh of relief but he knew his job—his task—his mission wouldn’t be complete until Scott was home tucked in his bed and dead to the world. 2:47am and his mission was complete. Scott was showered and sleeping. It was safe to leave.
3:20am Scott’s phone rang jarring him from sleep. It was Monica; her raspy sleepy voice broke through his weakened defenses. Do not invite her over, he repeated to himself. “Hey. What’s wrong?” Scott asked kicking himself. “I wanted call you earlier.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I wanted to call you too.”
Okay, invite her over but don’t stick your penis in her. “You should’ve called. We’re still friend, aren’t we? No, you’re not friends. You want to screw her!
“Right. I can’t sleep.” She pouted hoping he’d ask. “I miss you.” She added for insurance.
Don’t do it!! He heard Grant screaming from the back of his head. The elementary school back and forth word game was killing him. He wanted to throw caution to the wind. He recognized that all wasn’t healthy in their worlds but screw it; he’d whitewash his conscious tomorrow. He wanted his woman! All of her; flaws and all! “You wanna come over?”
“If you promise to hold me.”
“Monica, if you come over here, I’m fucking you in the ass. I want you so badly. Do you think we’re ready for that?”
God, she hated when he made logical sense. “My therapist says we shouldn’t see each other for a while. But I miss you and I love you so much.”
“I love you too, pretty girl. So, tell me about your therapy. How’s it going?”
They talked for until sunrise before falling asleep in their own beds…and awoke feeling better about their decision to tough it out. Astonishingly, they never felt so close or in love.