Page 22 of Taming a Menace

“I went to an event with my brother Kannon. He’s a celebrity bodyguard.

Well now he owns the company that provides the security for them and a lot of events, but he fills in as needed.

Anyway I ran into the girl I was telling you about with a couple of her friends.

I felt like it was fate that I saw her. Neither of us discussed going to the club.

I fell out with the club scene in my early twenties.

It’s not a place for someone with a hair pin trigger.

There’s too much trouble to get into in an environment like that. I try to avoid my known triggers.”

“That’s a good practice. Did something trigger you at the club event?”

“A guy got loud and belligerent with my lady friend. The fear in her eyes put me into immediate action.”

“Because of your need to defend those that can’t defend themselves?” she quizzed.

“I guess so. Did I ever tell you why I went to prison?”

“No,” she said, lowering her glasses and sitting back in her chair.

“I was shopping for a private dinner. I’ve gone to that particular grocery store a hundred times. I happened to see a couple fighting. None of my business. Right?”

“Right.”

“That’s what I thought until he slapped her.

Ms. Iyla, you should’ve seen the poor girl.

She had to be about a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet.

When he hit her, she flew into the frozen vegetable freezer.

That’s the last thing I remember. I didn’t even realize that I was beating his ass until security was pulling me off him. ”

“Why do you think seeing someone else’s abuse triggers such a response from you?”

“Well like you said, it seems like there was probably a time when I needed defending, but no one defended me.”

“You didn’t seem to think that was the case.”

“I said I couldn’t think of an example. It’s something I’ve never considered.”

“I would like for you to think about that between now and Thursday. If you come up with some examples, write them down. I think it’s a good idea for you to start carrying around a notebook so you can write down your thoughts and identify your triggers,” she said, opening the top drawer on her desk and pulling out a small tablet.

“Like a diary?”

“Like a journal.”

I shrugged. “So a diary.”

“You can call it whatever you want to call it. I just need you to jot down what you come up with so we can discuss it on your next visit.”

“I’m willing to try it.”

“Good.” She nodded. “I was going over your paperwork from last week and I noticed that you left some of the questions blank.”

“Which ones?” I asked her.

I had forgotten what most of the questions were at this point. There was no telling which questions I had skipped.

“Particularly the question that asked if you’ve ever experienced any trauma or abuse.”

“I didn’t know how to answer that one.” I shrugged.

“A simple yes or no would suffice.”

“Well I didn’t know how to answer it.”

“It wasn’t necessary to elaborate, Mr. Glover.”

“My answer stands,” I told her.

“Noted.”

“I’ve been to prison, so I’m sure that qualifies as traumatic.”

“What about prior to that?”

“Put me down for probably. If I say yes, can I have some pussy? Trauma makes me sad.” I pouted to drive my point home.

“Mr. Glover, stop playing with me.”

“I’m serious. You’re my therapist, Iyla. You’re supposed to help me feel better.”

She couldn’t hide the little smile that followed my response no matter how she tried.

“I’ll add probably some trauma to my notes. We will figure out how to handle it in other ways. I have some homework to go along with your journaling,” she said, glancing at her watch.

“Homework?”

“Yes, Mr. Glover. Self-improvement is sometimes a full-time job.”

“Tell me about it.” I shook my head.

She turned her chair and rolled over to a bookshelf behind her.

After pulling one of the folders from the shelf, she turned back around to face me.

The motion of the spinning chair knocked her purse off the shelf behind her, sending everything flying onto the floor.

I sprang to my feet to move around her desk and help her pick her things up.

“I got it,” she said, attempting to wave me off.

“I’m sure you do,” I replied, squatting down to ignore her refusal of my help.

As soon as I stooped in front of her to pick up the spilled contents of her purse, my breath got caught in my throat.

No wonder she didn’t want my help. My sweet Moon had a rose vibrator in her purse.

I wanted to mention it, but the way she scrambled to pick it up and stuff it back in her bag told me that now wasn’t the time to mention it.

I placed the items I retrieved on top of her desk and moved back around to my designated spot.

“While you’re getting my homework ready, I thought of something else I want to tell you while we’re having this discreet discussion.”

“What is it, Mr. Glover?” she asked, still visibly flustered.

“When I find the man who disrespected my baby, I’m putting him on the news.”

“What does that mean, Key?”

“Who?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.

“What do you mean you’re going to put him on the news, Mr. Glover?”

“It means what it means.” I shrugged, standing to my feet.

“Fair enough. I just hope that you consider the changes you’re trying to make before acting on your impulses.”

“I’m not sure what changes I want to make at this point.”

“That’s something for you to think about then. I’m pretty sure you expressed to me that your goal was not to go back to prison.”

“That would be correct.”

“Keep that in mind while you work on this assignment,” she said, passing me a sheet of paper.

“My mind is occupied enough with you. Just know that I know you think about this dick just as much as I think about you, beautiful. See you Thursday.”

“See you Thursday, Mr. Glover. I expect you to bring that homework back completed. No blank spaces this time.”

“Got it. I’m kind of nervous about our next session. I usually put out on the fourth date.”

“Get out, Mr. Glover.”

As much as I liked messing with Iyla, I was still committed to my promise to behave. I actually liked talking to her about myself. She made me feel seen and heard. She listened to me without making me feel like she was passing judgment.

It could have been due to her job, but I had never felt so comfortable telling someone my darkest secrets. Not that I went into great detail, but I opened the door for future conversations. I felt comfortable with Iyla period. I had never been so motivated to grow and change.

I scanned the form she’d given me as I walked out of the building. What Triggers Me was written in bold at the top of the page. I wasn’t sure if there was enough space to answer that question, but I would try. Iyla was right.

I wanted to change. I wanted to be the kind of man who she didn’t feel like she needed to fear. I wanted to be the kind of man who deserved to be in her presence. I wanted to be better for her. I wanted to be better with her.