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TRISTAN MALORE

B eing a contractor was never easy, and this client was proving my point.

“I’m aware of the time frame. If it was something I couldn’t handle, I would’ve let you know ahead of time.

Sit back and expect a call from us within the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours.

Have a good evening.” Hanging up the phone, I sat back in my chair and rubbed my temples.

Malore’s Current was all me. A company built from the ground up of Black electricians taking on contracts from the city and private clients.

Black and successful. I was a walking meal ticket and Eastlake new it.

You didn’t get too many African American men with their own or holding their weight in a world molded for palms.

Knock, knock. Looking up, my assistant Lauren entered my office with her purse on her shoulders. I checked the watch that sat comfortably on my wrist and noticed it was past six in the evening. Our workday ended thirty minutes ago. I got tied up on the call and aloud time to slip right on by.

“I’m headed out. Do you need anything from me before doing so?” she questioned.

“Not at all. I’m right behind you.”

I stood, grabbing my belongings and followed behind her out the door.

I planned on meeting up with my brother before going home.

We hadn’t kicked it in a few weeks and were well overdue for a drink.

After all, this weekend was special for me.

I needed to get my mind right before my time was dedicated to someone else.

We rode the elevators down to the main floor, strolled through the lobby, and went our separate ways once we hit the parking lot.

I appreciated her staying every day until I was ready to go.

Her letting me know she was leaving was her way of telling me it was time to go.

Without her, I would lose track of my head if it wasn’t attached.

Hopping in my ride, I waited until her car drove passed mine before I pulled out.

The White Rabbit was where we usually found ourselves whenever a link up was scheduled.

A cigar lounge he threw his money into, making it one of the most upscaled ones in the Lake.

The vibe was one many enjoyed. I had no problem going to him and chilling for the time being.

The drive was no more than twenty minutes with traffic picking up along the way. Pulling into the lot, the many cars filled it. This was normal traffic for The White Rabbit. I parked and made my way inside. Cigars, drinks, and beautiful women. It was a place a man could unwind in peace.

I quickly grabbed one of the women passing by and asked, “Where’s Hakeem?” She pointed to the left corner where he was located. I spotted him immediately and nodded.

“And Tristan, say hello first next time. Swear you and Hakeem are the rudest men I know,” she stated before walking off.

I offered a light chuckle before heading in my brother’s direction.

I didn’t know who shorty was but knowing of me was a must. When I stepped in here, the treatment was nothing less than a king’s.

The rules were very transparent, and the ladies followed them with ease.

Business was good, I had to give it to him.

Keem played about a lot of shit, but I wasn’t one of them.

Being the only Malores left made our bond that much stronger.

I was his keeper and would where that charge proudly when it came to him.

I practically raised him so putting my life and freedom on the line for him wasn’t something I had to think twice on.

Stepping into his section, I dapped him up and took a seat next to him.

Unbuttoning my blazer, I opened it getting comfortable.

He extended a gar in my direction along with a box of matches.

He then poured me up a drink of Macallan and set it in front of me.

Keem tried to return the gesture of taking care of me whenever I visited.

He didn’t owe me shit, but it was nice to see his appreciation.

“Life?” he questioned scanning the room.

“Still blessed. Yours?”

“Still highly favored. You been missed, nigga. Where you been?” Keem might’ve been a grown ass man, but he became that twelve-year-old boy whenever I was around looking for his brother’s attention. We were seven years apart, so I understood.

“Settling contracts and keeping my wife happy. Same drill, nigga, just a different day.”

“Same drill, huh? That shit still in the mix, too? It’s ‘bout that time, ain’t it?”

“What shit, Keem?” I took a sip of my drink and puffed on my gar. I knew what he was hinting at, but I was a man that made you say what was on your mind. All that beating around the bush was for kids.

“You know what I’m talking ‘bout, bro’.”

He was my brother after all and keeping secrets wasn’t how we did things. When he asked what we did for our tenth anniversary, I kept it real. He was still as confused back then as he was today.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking. Now, would I?” Another long pull was administered to my gar as smoke filled my lungs. I was in a very calm and content state.

The answer Hakeem wanted would be a truthful one.

I prided myself on honesty and it tended to work in my favor.

The respect I gained from others, especially my wife, instilled a confidence that couldn’t be easily broken.

When you walked in your truth, it really wasn’t shit anyone could say or do to you to offend you.

“What y’all call it… the anniversary gift?”

Before responding, I took another sip of my drink. This wasn’t an uncomfortable topic for me, I just didn’t like discussing my marriage and the dynamics of it with nobody but my wife. Whatever we did as a unit, didn’t bring nobody else happiness. Muthafuckas were nosy and that included Hakeem.

“The best one I could give her, and yeah, it’s still in the mix.”

“I don’t see how you sit back and let Naomi do that weird ass shit then turn around and spend another year with her ass. That’s foul, bruh. I don’t give a fuck how you put it. She crossing the line.”

The anniversary gift was more along the lines of a reset button me and my wife offered one another.

One pass, one lover, one day. It wasn’t a test of our marriage because we were happy in our union.

No one could take my wife from me simply because I knew where her heart lied.

She wore the Malore name proudly and became a reflection of me.

She was the prize, and I would never forget it.

“Is she my wife or yours?” I questioned placing the cigar in my mouth.

“That’s not the point and you know it. By all means, take the anniversary gift she offers ‘cause that’s a hell of a gift, but don’t give her the same one in return is what I’m saying. She ain’t supposed to be touched by no nigga but you.”

“She ain’t supposed to be nobody business but mine, either, yet here you are with her name in your mouth.

My name ain’t been disrespected since I gave it to her.

If you think her enjoying our anniversary is weird, then so be it.

However, I lay next to my wife with a smile on my face.

That’s eighteen years I ain’t questioned who was for me. Can you do the same?”

Hakeem wasn’t married and unlike me, he loved having women.

I was overly content with my wife. She gave me a home no one else offered, not even my mother.

She also loved me better than anyone else in my life, which was why I was trying my hardest to give her the world.

In my eyes, that was the only thing good enough.

“You always trying to throw jabs. You only get like that when a muthafucka telling the truth,” he laughed while shaking his head.

“I get like this when it comes to my wife. I don’t give a fuck who you are. Slandering her name is slandering mine, and I don’t take too kindly to disrespect. Don’t play with me in here, Keem.”

I was never the kind of man to allow my wife to be disrespected. She was a representation of me through and through. It wasn’t shit about that woman I didn’t know, either. I would go to war with God for her. I loved my brother, but I loved my wife more.

Women weren’t thought about sexually before I met Naomi. I was a focused ass nigga with one thing on my mind… money. I had a plan and was sticking to it until she walked her pretty ass across the courtyard wearing a smile I couldn’t tear my gaze away from.

We been together since our freshman year in college.

Nothing but nineteen years old learning each other, our boundaries, as well as triggers for one another.

A year later we were at the altar. She was a virgin and because I took her innocence we chose to do life with one another. It didn’t get no purer than that.

“Man, I ain’t even trying to go there with you. I will call the law on yo’ ass fa sho’ this go ‘round. You ain’t ‘bout to beat me down and think you ain’t ‘bout to do time,” he jested.

“Watch your mouth, and you won’t get hit in it.

On the real though, this our shit and outside opinions really don’t matter.

We got a decade under our belt getting ready to secure another and neither one felt the need to walk away.

She really ain’t got a choice when it comes to us, though.

She’ll see a grave before I let her leave me. ”

“Nigga something wrong with you. When y’all leave to do that weird shit?” he questioned puffing on his gar.

“Tomorrow evening.”

“Hit me when you get back and shit. I’ll bring y’all anniversary gift over. Eighteen years really is a flex. I’m proud of you and sis’, regardless of how much shit I talk.”

It was all love from Keem. He did run his mouth too much, but he showed up for me and my wife without question.

We were the only family he had. He cherished that shit much like I did.

If he didn’t approve of our union, he would’ve voiced it a long time ago.

Tonight was his opinion on how we exchanged one particular gift.

He didn’t fuck with it and that was cool because the names signed on that marriage certificate was Tristan and Naomi.

We didn’t do a damn thing to please anyone but the two in our marriage.

I finished off my drink, took one final pull of my cigar before putting it out, then stood to get the hell on.

Hakeem was on his feet extending his hand in my direction.

We dapped up, shared a brotherly hug, and parted ways.

Spending time with my brother brought a different kind of peace to a nigga.

Hopping in my ride shortly after, I hit the main road and headed home.

Waiting on me was a maple brown beauty so curvy my mind wondered anytime she invaded a nigga thoughts.

I missed her voice, that fruity fragrance that always lingered, and the way she couldn’t keep her hands off me when I was in her presence.

She was everything a man could ask for so fumbling her wasn’t in the cards at all.

I cruised through the Lake to Dean Creek where me and my wife resided. A gated community and the neighbors knew how to mind their business as well as run one. It was indeed packed out with those that had something attached to their names. One thing Eastlake was going to do was house entrepreneurs.

Hitting the key to the garage, I pulled in seconds later and parked beside my wife’s BMW.

She would beat me home on any given day simply because she never left it.

She was a retired professor. I entered the crib, and the smell of a fully cooked meal hit me instantly.

I smiled knowing this treatment was rare.

As I walked through the house, I yelled out for her. “Mrs. Malore!”

She came down the stairs not even a second later dressed in an all red lingerie set.

The silk robe that hung from her shoulders and the red heels that covered those pretty little toes added to the aesthetic.

My eyes stayed on her the entire time she made her way to me.

Once in reach, her arms snaked around my neck as mine claimed her waist.

Our lips found each other’s, sharing a kiss that made my shaft grow. All it took was her presence to settle within me. My attraction to her was beyond physical but the physical tended to consume a greater helping of her than anything else.

The kiss broke causing a brief wave of bitterness to wash over me. I wanted more but had entered the red zone and couldn’t. My time was coming again and when it did, I wasn’t holding back.

“ Mmm , I missed you,” she moaned gently stroking my beard.

“Likewise.” I placed my head in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. Her scent was so alluring to me. I couldn’t get enough of it.

Pecking at her neck, I began torturing myself.

We had less than twenty-four hours before we exchanged anniversary gifts, and I wasn’t quite ready.

Even though I was blessed with a waterfall last night, I was yearning for another dose of it.

She knew it, too. My hands were roaming her body like a kid that finally got his hands on candy.

“You got to stop baby, please. We’re in the red zone.”

“I need that, Mama. I know it’ll be as good as it looks.” My hands were on her ass giving light squeezes, the kisses on her neck continued, and her soft moans filled the room.

“Baby, if I give you all of me right here, right now, our anniversary would be ruined.” She was just as bothered as I was. Her body was reacting to the only person who had claims.

I growled as I loosened my grip. One night… one fuckin’ night.