Page 12 of Taming a Menace

“I’ll put down today’s session as a success, but I am going to try to find a replacement for you by Thursday.”

“Fair enough,” he said, springing to his feet.

“Where are you going?” I asked with a scowl.

“I was probably gonna grab something to eat then go home to rest up for work tonight.”

“Have a seat. Your sessions are an hour.”

“You don’t want daddy to leave?” he asked, flashing a boyish grin that made heat crawl up my neck. When I cocked my brow, he held up his hand. “I’m just messing with you. Don’t kick me out.”

“You’re pushing it,” I warned him.

“I’m grateful for you. I swear I am. So what’s next?”

“Usually we start with preliminary questions like what brings you to therapy.”

“You already know what brought me here. My parole officer said that I had to come if I didn’t want to go back to prison. That’s some motivation for your ass.”

“There must be a reason that he felt like you could benefit from therapy,” I suggested.

“I’m sure there was.” He shrugged as he sat back.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Not really.”

“In order for this to work you have to cooperate.”

“They told me I had to come. They didn’t say I had to talk to y’all.”

“If you want to benefit from these sessions, you’re going to have to talk,” I clarified.

“OK.” He nodded.

“So?”

“So what?” he asked.

“Are you going to talk?”

“I don’t want to talk about why that cornball thought I would benefit from therapy. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t think at all. He just does whatever somebody else tells him to do. I don’t respect that, so I don’t want to talk about it,” he explained.

“Well what would you like to talk about?” I asked him.

The way both corners of his mouth lifted was an indication that I would regret asking that question. The intrigue that stirred in my belly made me curious about his answer anyway.

“Iyla,” he responded.

“That’s not what we’re here for, Mr. Glover. I already told you that in order for me to keep this session, you have to behave yourself.”

“Am I not behaving?” he asked.

“I’m making sure you stay on the right track.”

“Do you always do what you’re supposed to do?” he challenged.

“I think you already know the answer to that question.”

He shrugged. “Actually I don’t.”

“Seeing how I had a one-night stand with a man whose full name I didn’t know, I would think the answer would be no.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. There’s nothing wrong with responding to natural human instincts. I hope you don’t think I think any less of you.”

“That’s neither here nor there. Let’s discuss what challenges you’ve been facing.”

“Well aside from having to be in therapy so I don’t go back to prison, I met an amazing, beautiful woman who laughed at my corny jokes and loved my food.

For some reason she didn’t think I was worth getting to know.

I’ve been struggling with that for a couple of years. It made me really sad actually.”

“Are you going to take this serious, or should I ask you to leave again?”

“I’m being serious. Why didn’t you want to give me your number?” he asked.

“I see that you were diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder at fourteen. Can you remember the events that led up to that diagnosis?”

“I’m sure it’s all in the notes: explosive anger, lack of impulse control, unstable personal relationships, all that good stuff.”

“I don’t have enough information to support the diagnosis. That’s why I asked you about it.”

“My mom never bought into it either. Thing is, no one ever took the time to ask me what was wrong.”

“Was something wrong?” I questioned.

“Probably. I was a young child running wild. I liked to fight. I liked to make sure people knew I wasn’t to be fucked with. I liked being left the fuck alone. Still do.”

“Is that why you were angry? People wouldn’t leave you alone?” I questioned.

“ Expressing anger was a good way to get them to leave me alone.”

“Interesting,” I said, jotting down a few notes to make sure I didn’t miss anything.

“Enough about me. Are you seeing someone?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“It’s funny that you should say that because aside from the uncertainty of if I was going back to prison, you’re the only thing I’ve been concerned about since I came home. Hell even before I came home.”

“Well you don’t have to concern yourself with me. I’m a big girl.”

“Is my big girl dating? I know some fool broke your heart back then. I just want to make sure you’re not wasting time crying over that nigga. It’s OK to move on.”

“Do you have a family history of mental health issues?” I asked to redirect the conversation.

“I already answered your question. Now answer mine. Are you dating? I’m sure you have been over the years.

It’s just that your eyes still look as sad as they did the night we met.

If you’re going to be sad, do it with another man in your life who’s willing to help cure that sadness, Iyla. You deserve to smile.”

“I appreciate that.”

“It’s true. I think at some point in your life you knew that. Don’t let that clown make you forget how desirable you are,” he said, using my own words against me.

I didn’t know if I should be alarmed or impressed that he remembered what I’d said that night after all this time. My cheeks flushed. Something in my chest compelled me to answer his question.

“I’ve gone on a couple of dates.”

“You having sex on a regular basis? A woman like you deserves to have multiple orgasms . . . and often.”

Knowing I had to regain control of the situation, I cleared my throat and adjusted in my seat before responding.

“It’s your turn to answer a question, Mr. Glover.”

“No mental health issues that I know of. My dad died when I was eight, but from what I remember he was a stand-up guy. Nobody in my family is like me. My oldest brother is close, but he was a Marine and his wife was murdered. He has the right to be angry. I don’t.”

“Don’t negate your feelings. Just because you don’t express them in an appropriate way doesn’t invalidate them.”

“I like that, Moon. That was pretty good.” He nodded.

“Good. Don’t forget it.”

“How’s your sex life? That nigga you seeing make you cum like me?” he quizzed.

“That’s not up for discussion.”

He chuckled. “So that’s a no.”

Why did the deep rumble that was his laugh have a direct connection between my thighs? At this rate, I was going to have to go home and shower during my lunch break.

“If you must know, my sex life is nonexistent. I’ve been in a serious relationship for the past few years that recently ended. Since then I’ve focused on putting my life back together. I went on a couple of dates, but I have a ninety-day rule. So no sex for me.”

“That’s good. That pussy too good to just give away. Make them work for it.”

“Can we please stay on topic?”

“You are the topic. You’re all I’ve been able to think about over the past few years.”

“That’s why I have to find you a new therapist.”

“Just so you know, I have no issue waiting ninety days for you. I went a thousand and ninety-five days straight without even touching a woman. Ninety days ain’t shit.”

“You know what? We’re done for the day. I’ll follow up and let you know about your new therapist.”

“I’m not seeing a new therapist, Iyla. I want to see you. You won’t give me a number so I can see you outside of here, so this is the next best thing.”

“Even if I wanted to give you my number, it’s out of the question now.”

“Because you’re my therapist.”

“Just for today,” I reminded him.

“So what’s the harm in giving it to me?”

“Have a nice day, Mr. Glover.” I rolled my eyes but was unable to hide the smile breaking through my attempt to remain stoic.

“Have a beautiful day, Iyla,” he said as he stood.

When he left the room, I finally released the air from my lungs. Key was so intense that he made me uncomfortable. It wasn’t the type of discomfort that came with the threat of violence. Even after reading over his file nothing about him screamed danger.

Yes, he looked like he could do damage. He’d proven that with the way he ravaged me on that kitchen counter. I didn’t fear him. I wanted him. I wanted him more than anything that I had ever wanted in my life.

Now that he was a client here, he was off limits.

Even if I didn’t continue to see him, him being a patient in this office made him off limits to me.

There had to be something I could do. Before I lost what was left of my mind, I sent an email to my colleagues to ask if any of them had openings.

I needed him away from me as soon as possible.

Nothing good would come of continuing to see him as a client or otherwise.