Leftovers With Benefits: An Interracial Contemporary Romance Read online

  She almost felt as if she’d been sleepwalking. One moment she was mourning the loss of her marriage, and the next she was almost getting herself arrested. Emphasis on the “almost.” She put her car in drive and didn’t make a show of it as she headed down the street and away from the scene. She didn’t notice the car pulling up on the opposite side as she was pulling away, filling the car’s interior with the sound of her sobs as her emotions picked up where they’d left off.

  The surreal turn of the evening came down on her as she tried not to draw any attention to herself on the road, minding the four-way stops as she checked for signs of the police in her rearview. Guilt and shame washed over her as her heart was still thumping in her ears.

  Jesus, is this how criminals felt? How do they live like that, she wondered. Her head pounded as she struggled to come to grips with one of the worst nights of her life.

  Her sobs had subsided by the time she returned home, physically and emotionally spent. She didn’t even bother with the lights as she closed her bedroom door, climbed into her big bed alone, and slept.

  3

  Chapter 3

  “Bro, what the hell is going on at your house?”

  Kevin’s brother had only said what they all were thinking as he slowly pulled up to his house. His front door was wide open, all his lights were on and there was a strange car, a white 4Runner butted up behind him in his driveway.

  Kevin had an ugly, gross feeling as his brother dropped him off. He wasn’t sure if it was her friend Greg or Danielle that drove the white 4Runner.

  “Is that spray paint?” his co-worker said from the backseat.

  Kevin looked in the direction of his assistant and then back to his driveway, trying to make out what looked to be the word “bitch” scrawled on the side of his car.

  “What the fuck?” Kevin said.

  “Do you need us to stay?” his brother asked, hoping the answer was no.

  Aside from the obscene vandalism, the entire scene was classic Lindsey. Kevin had no intention of exposing his buddies to whatever shit show this seemed to be. And he definitely didn’t want to hear his brother’s “I told you so” speech.

  “No you guys, go ahead, I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Kevin got out of the passenger side and walked slowly up the driveway toward the house, looking at the markings on his car in disbelief. As he heard his brother driving off, he looked at the hood of his car in horror. His pulse elevated as he tried to make sense of what he was looking at.

  Lindsey?

  He could hear her crying inside, talking to someone, probably the owner of the strange vehicle. The voice was a bit too low to be Greg’s…

  Suddenly another set of headlights was illuminating the drive. Blue and red ones.

  It was the police. He refrained from running inside the house so as not to set off any undue alarm bells. Strange.

  The whole thing was odd, but still, nothing was going off in his gut.

  “Are you the owner of the house, sir?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Kevin. Hayes.”

  “We got a call about a domestic dispute,” the officer said. He looked over at the colorful language carved onto the hood of the car.

  “Wanna tell me your side of the events, Mr. Hayes?”

  “Honestly, officer I just got home and I have no idea what’s going on.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you are in no way associated with the perpetrator?”

  “Like I said, officer, I just got home. I—”

  “Kevin!”

  Kevin turned to look at his distraught wife at the front door, her nose red and raw, her dark makeup having given her raccoon eyes. She left the door ajar as she went back inside and returned to her position on the couch. As Kevin got further to the doorway he saw a muscular dark-skinned gentleman sitting by her side, looking every inch the military man and gently consoling her as she continued to sob.

  Kevin’s body went rigid.

  No way. No way was this happening.

  “Who’s this?” Kevin asked.

  The stranger next to his wife eyed him but said nothing. The police officer was pretending to be invisible. Lindsey was holding both sides of her head as though her brains might fall out.

  “Is he—”

  “Yes,” Lindsey snapped, exasperated. “Whatever stupid question you’re about to ask, the answer is ‘yes.’”

  Kevin wasn’t satisfied with the answer.

  “‘Yes’ doesn’t explain what he’s doing here in our house.”

  “Why are you home right now, anyway?” she quietly sniffed.

  “Scott wanted to get home early.”

  “Since when does Scott care about being home?”

  “Lindsey cut the bullshit. What is going on?”

  Lindsey rocked back and forth as she sobbed anew. The man next to her glanced at him with contempt before returning his eyes to Lindsey. Murderous feelings rose up in Kevin as he clenched his jaw. He eyed the policeman’s gun in the holster.

  “Ma’am, were you the one that called?”

  “It took you long enough to get here!” she snapped. “She’s gone now.”

  “She?” Kevin tried to catch up.

  “My wife,” the man on the couch spoke up.

  Kevin let a laugh escape as the absurdity of the situation began to wash over him. He massaged his brow with both hands.

  “What’s her name?” the cop asked.

  “Kenya. Hamilton.”

  “She’s a fucking lunatic!!” Lindsey piped up.

  “Well, if you were fucking her husband, Lindsey, I’d say that’s the exact appropriate reaction to have.”

  “We are not sleeping together! He’s a friend!”

  “Literally no one here believes that. Officer, do you believe that?”

  “Kevin, relax bruh,” the man next to Lindsey insisted, indignant.

  Kevin looked over at the stranger who knew his name. He oddly felt bad that he couldn’t remember his.

  They’d talked once before while Lindsey was in the shower. Right before Lindsey had confessed that she was cheating.

  “End it,” was all Kevin had said to him before he hung up.

  At least, he assumed it was the same guy.

  “You have no idea the relationship he’s had to endure,” Lindsey stuck up for him. “There’s a reason why we understand each other so well.”

  “I’m very glad this cop is here. Because he’s preventing me from killing the both of you where you sit.”

  “No threats, Mr. Hayes, or you’re going to jail.”

  Everyone was quiet, except the stranger who gave a little chuckle and shook his head.

  Kevin kept his gaze on him as he spoke.

  “What’s this guy’s name again? Chuck? Virgil?”

  “His name is Cecil, and he’s not just ‘some guy.’ He’s twice the man you are and he’s been very patient throughout this whole process!”

  Process?

  Seven weeks of trying to recover what was lost in their relationship had just been a “process” for this jerk to be “patient” through?

  So she’d already made up her mind.

  His future plans bubbled and withered apart like film exposed to heat.

  “Did you explain to Cecil that I’m a Marine, and I’m well within range? So he should stop pissing me off?”

  Lindsey rolled her eyes. Was Kevin delusional? Cecil was being so incredibly restrained right now which was subtly turning her on. If Kevin tried to start a fight with him, he would calmly ground Kevin into dust.

  “Cecil’s a real Marine. An officer. He’s seen more combat than you,” Lindsey dug.

  “Good for him. He’s about to see some more.”

  “That’s the last warning you get,” the police officer intervened, stepping in between the eye line of the two men, trying to get Mr. Hayes to focus on a cold hard cell rather than t
he douchebag on the couch with his wife.

  “Look, ma’am, what do you want to do? I recommend one— or more— of you leave the premises. Tonight,” the policeman warned.

  It took about 20 minutes for Lindsey to gather some of her things. Meanwhile, the officer led the two men awkwardly in small talk.

  They had something in common, after all. Something they couldn’t let go unacknowledged. It was beyond them. A temporary and very fragile truce filled the room like a fog.

  Kevin looked wiry, 150 pounds soaking wet, but the officer had seen plenty of physical marvels in the military. Cecil, on the other hand, looked like the type that ate, drank and shit the Marines.

  “Where’d you serve?” the officer began in Cecil’s direction.

  “Afghanistan. Two tours,” Cecil replied. He assumed he was inadvertently surrounded by NCO’s. “You?”

  “Fallujah.”

  “Gotdamn. Marines?”

  “Army. 31 Bravo.”

  “MP?” Kevin guessed.

  “Oh, this fuckin’ guy,” Cecil dared a joke. They surrendered a huffing laugh. The cop turned to Kevin.

  “What about you?”

  “I did my four then Reserves ‘til OIF. Moved around in Infantry.”

  “Oo-rah,” Cecil dared to tip his hat to his fellow Marine.

  “Semper Fi,” Kevin replied, feeling nauseous. That was about all the respect he could muster for Cecil.

  “Rifleman?”

  “Scout sniper.”

  “Oh shit,” Cecil dawned a sober expression. Even as a weekend warrior, Kevin probably earned respect on par with him.

  “You gotta be dying out here,” the cop said, “being a civilian.”

  “Me? Nah, it’s alright. Just more waiting,” Kevin said, returning his icy stare at Cecil.

  Damn. They were eyes that could look through a scope for hours, Cecil thought. He’d probably killed him in his mind about six times.

  Whatever. If he had something to say he should say it. While the police were still here. God knew to send not just any old cop to this guy’s house.

  “Well you know how the saying goes, brother,” Cecil laughed with a toothy grin, “‘Trust me with your life…’”

  Kevin didn’t move. The cop lowered his head and shook it.

  “Don’t call me that. Ever.”

  Cecil sighed a long sigh.

  “She didn’t tell me you were a Marine. Not at first.”

  “We had an agreement,” Kevin said, speaking of their brief, two-word conversation two months ago.

  “She doesn’t wanna be here, bruh,” Cecil implored him as if running out of patience.

  Kevin took one step before the officer was holding him back in a forceful panic.

  “That’s my wife!” Kevin exclaimed, his jaw clenched, shaking with rage. Cecil didn’t move a muscle.

  “It’s her decision,” Cecil shrugged, looking apologetic yet confident this would end in his favor.

  “I’m ready,” Lindsey announced from the stairs.

  She had a duffle bag and her purse in hand. Her long hair was in a messy bun and she’d put on a trendy sweatshirt over her t-shirt and jeans. Her icy blue eyes radiated, and her pixie-like features taunted him, her ethereal beauty stabbing him underneath the baggy exterior.

  Was this really happening? Had he really lost her? Weeks ago? His mind struggled to keep up.

  As Kevin approached her, the officer grabbed him by the arm and Kevin relaxed his posture, saying nothing but signaling he was under control.

  “Lindsey. I still love you,” he said as she descended the stairs and walked towards him. “Even after you… I have some fight left, I can feel it.”

  Lindsey tamped down her rage, trying not to be cruel as she thought of her answer. The only thing more repulsive than watching Kevin constantly let himself get railroaded was watching him put up a fight when the battle was over.

  “I don’t. I’m sorry,” she replied once she got to the bottom step.

  “What am I supposed to do?” he whispered as she slowly passed by.

  It was an honest question, a fair one in Lindsey’s estimation. Now was her chance to do something nice for him. One last gesture.

  “Let me go,” she quietly advised him, glancing at him over her shoulder as she headed toward the door.

  Kevin could barely register what his eyes were now showing him.

  This morning wasn’t a win. It couldn’t have been. Apparently, none of it was. Now, he watched helplessly as a police officer escorted his wife and another man leaving together out of his front door. He stopped at the threshold, watching as the red and blue lights lit up the front yard. Cecil escorted Lindsey to the passenger side of his slightly damaged vehicle, though it was no match for Kevin’s own. The officer spoke to them from the safety of Cecil’s SUV before he returned to the front door where Kevin was standing.

  “So. You wanna press charges?”

  Kevin turned his attention to his defamed car.

  “No,” Kevin sighed.

  “You sure?” the officer asked, surveying the extensive, colorful damage.

  “No, I’m an insurance adjuster and I’ve got veteran’s benefits. They’ll probably replace the damn thing.”

  “Apparently he told the wife it was over and she followed him here. She’s a nurse at Murray Regional if you need to track her down.”

  “Fuck,” Kevin marveled as he shook his head. “Two fuckin’ households. Ruined. How selfish can you be?” Kevin wondered aloud.

  “It happens every fuckin’ day, man,” the veteran cop consoled him. “Unfortunately I’ve seen much, much worse.”

  Kevin shut the door of his house and the quiet commenced closing in on him. He sauntered off to the guest bedroom of his empty house, Lindsey’s old room, stood staring in the doorway and cried.

  He climbed into the bed and let the scent of her strawberry orchard shampoo torture him. The mourning was just beginning, and he was already exhausted.

  The pain in his gut was such that he could hardly breathe. For weeks he’d visualized their love coming back to normal, coming back stronger. One day she’d see his resolve, his gentle and steadfast work and instantly decide it was worth it to rekindle their long forgotten passion.

  The pain in his gut worsened, punishing his naivete with sleeplessness. The flames from the hell of rejection grew hotter, stung his eye sockets and threatened to whip his skin. If only there were a ledge he could jump off of.

  The next morning Kevin haunted the rooms of his house. He’d gotten hardly any sleep and was completely exhausted, but he couldn’t stay there. Not now. Work had become eight hours of monotonous reprieve. Perhaps he would work some overtime. Even though he was salaried.

  He dressed and poured himself a strong thermos of coffee before walking outside. There he was confronted with the events of the night before, the full scope of his wife’s actions.

  “I’M A WHORE,” the hood of his car proudly proclaimed. He took an exasperated breath. He got in the driver side and slammed the door, the “bi” meeting with the “tch” on the back passenger door.

  He had some very unfortunate calls to make.

  4

  Chapter 4

  “Lil’ girl, you lucky no one is pressin’ charges. What were you thinking?”

  “I wasn’t,” Kenya flatly admitted. “And it’s only been a few days, but I haven’t heard anything.”

  “So you keyed this heffa’s car… and now he’s not even coming home?!”

  “Wooow,” Kenya marveled at her mother’s interpretation of events. “Well, since I was personally at said heffa’s house, I’d say he’d already planned on not coming home. And he also used the words ‘it’s over,’ and ‘I don’t want to be married to you anymore.’”

  It was Kenya’s day off, and she spent it working with her mother in the garden. The air was dry and warm, a pleasant breeze rustled the trees preparing for cool weather. Now was the time to prepare for the beets, carrots, broccoli, and ka
le and she helped her mother get the soil ready.

  She always hated the way the dirt felt, the way it glued itself under her fingernails. Even after becoming a nurse, the repulsion never improved.

  Her mother was a miracle worker with the soil. She could get just about anything to grow.

  She never went to college, was a stay at home mom until the divorce forced her into the working world, but Kenya spent her life shivering cold beneath her mother’s shadow.

  It was in elementary school that Kenya realized no one else’s mother made their school lunches and salads and pies and snacks from the backyard. She hoped to get her own garden in shape when she got married, but her garden thumb was hopelessly black.

  “I just don’t understand why you had to kick him out of the house.”

  “For the last time, mama, I didn’t kick him out. He left.”

  “You said you threatened to kill him!”

  “Yeah, I did. And you know what he did? He laughed. ‘Cuz he wasn’t scared.”

  “That man has been through hell. Two deployments, losin’ his best friend and his sister. Learnin’ to walk again…”

  “I been through a couple things too, mama. I never even thought about cheating.”

  “Of course, look at him! I told you if you wanted to keep a strong black man like that, you was gonna have to step it up.”

  Her mother had been her harshest critic since she could remember, especially when it came to her appearance. Kenya was a natural beauty, and to her mother, it seemed that Kenya got everything she got in life, at the level she got it, to the degree that she presented herself well to the world. She got her first makeup kit at 12, and her mother took her on whole vacations that centered around outlet mall shopping. But the makeup collected dust, and at 17, Kenya broke the news that shopping made her want to claw her own eyes out.

  It took some time, but her mother eventually got over Kenya’s differing personality. Still, she couldn’t help but think how much better Kenya could’ve had it if she had simply applied herself. It was no surprise that Kenya landed a guy like Cecil, but the task of keeping him had been a constant source of anxiety for her mother. She hadn’t set the best example, she habitually lamented in hindsight.