Page 38 of Pretty

“Like this, baby?”

“Oh, yes! Yes! Yes!”

He pumped and thrust into me harder, and his finger traced a circle around my clit. His mouth covered mine, and he swallowed my moans. I dragged my fingers up the hard planes of his back, feeling every tight muscle and every hard ridge. It felt like we belonged together, like there was nothing before this.

“Ohh, fuck, Pretty. I can’t hold it, girl. Why is this pussy so good, ma?”

“I don’t—I don’t knowww! Ohh, yes. Please, Drew. More. More,” I pleaded. He gave me everything that I asked for and then some.

Within a half hour, we had both orgasmed and were in a sated state. Drew rolled me onto my back, and he crushed my lips in a kiss.

“I love everything about being here with you like this,” he declared.

“So do I,” I whispered. “So do I.”

My heart constricted in my chest, because that confession was too close to an “I love you” for me to be comfortable with. Yet, I felt that way myself, but wasn’t it too soon? Would he truly take care of my heart and be the man he said he would be? How could I trust my judgment after being so wrong before?

TWO WEEKS LATER

“Pretty!” I shouted as I raced across my yard. I was watering my plants when I heard something crash. I opened the gate connecting our yards. “Pretty?” I looked around her yard and slowly moved toward her studio.

I pushed the door open and looked for her, but all I saw were beautiful paintings in various stages of completion. I had never been inside of her studio, and I had seen her works before, but none of these. They were on a different level—full of emotion, pain, and yet beautiful.

“Pretty?” I called out again.

“Drew.” Her voice was weak and sounded pained, but where was it coming from?

I rushed out and to the other side of the studio to find her sprawled on the ground underneath a window; her leg was twisted at an odd angle. Her head rested against a rock, and there were speckles of blood on the rock.

“Pretty, what the hell happened?” I asked as I rushed to her side. I wanted to lift her into my arms, but I knew that might make the situation worse.

She tried to speak, but her eyelids fluttered. I pulled my phone from my coat pocket and dialed 911.

“Pretty, the ambulance is on the way. I don’t want to move you, baby girl, because I might make shit worse. Please hang in here with me.”

Her eyes rested on mine, and a sweet smile crossed her face. It scared the hell out of me, and I didn’t scare easily.

“Pretty, don’t do this shit. Aye, I ever tell you about the time I won the game when we were down by twelve points, and they counted us out? It was the Super Bowl.”

I launched into telling her the story I knew I’d never shared. My mind scrambled for ways to keep her focus on me. I succeeded until about two minutes before the ambulance arrived. I was ready to lose my shit when she closed her eyes and didn’t respond.

“Come on, girl. I can’t lose you, not when I just found you.”

It wasn’t about a potential loss of life. I wasn’t focused on the fact that she could lose her life. In reality, I didn’t believe she would, but there was something else going on in my mind that didn’t make sense. Something I didn’t have time to decipher.

“Mr. Jennings, I hate to disturb you, but can I get your autograph?”

I looked up at the young male intern holding out a pad and paper. I stifled back my initial response to tell him “Then don’t” in response to his “I hate to disturb you.”

I mugged him instead, and I knew he felt all my pent-up frustration in that one glance. An hour had passed, and I hadn’t heard a word about Pretty’s condition.

“I’ll tell you what. If you can get me news about Miss Jolie Mercier’s condition, then I can do you one better.”

“You can?” A naïve expression lit his face. I had the thought that I might take a selfie with him and post it on my social media accounts with the hashtag #rudeassniggas. I decided that wasn’t cool. Besides, I wasn’t trying to exploit her situation.

“Yeah, get me the news I’m looking for, and I’ll give you that autograph and give you a shout out on my social media pages.”

“Bet,” he replied and scurried off to do my bidding.