TASTES LIKE SOME MORE

*~*~* PROLOGUE *~*~*

Zahara stopped by the office before making a run to the
bank. She needed to get the latest figures that she and Treniece
had compiled in anticipation of expanding their business.
Treniece’s car was parked in the ‘normal’ spot – at an angle,
taking up two spaces so no one would park near her baby, a
Matador Red Lexus IS sport coupe. All Zahara could do was
shake her head, laughing at Treniece’s vanity.

As she climbed the flight of stairs leading to the office,
Zahara heard low voices and soft music. She reasoned that it
was Treniece doing what she always did – using the office phone
to contact one of her many suitors. Music was always playing in
their joint office suite. Yet, for some reason, today it all felt
different to her. Stepping into the open doorway of the office,
Zahara was confronted by the sight of Treniece naked, her back
pressed to the wall, legs wrapped tightly around the waist of a
caramel coated brother who was fully engaged in giving
Treniece exactly what she was mewling for.

Zahara stood transfixed as she heard Treniece purr,
“Does she give it to you like this?” She would swear later that
Treniece smirked at her as she asked this question.

Mr. Caramel moaned, gasping his response into the air,
“No way Baby…sheee…don’t know…mmmm…what you
know….mmmm…”

That’s when all kinds of weird lights went off behind
Zahara’s eyes.

“Quint?” she whispered.

Treniece let her legs slither down Mr. Caramel’s back
until she was standing on her own.

“Why you stop Baby?” Quinton asked as he nuzzled
Treniece’s neck.

“Quint?! What…? Treniece? How could you??” Zahara
shouted as she backed out of the room.

Looking over his shoulder, Quinton realized that the
shit was about to hit the proverbial fan. “Zahara, lemme
explain.”

By this time, Zahara had backed into the hallway. Tears
stung her eyes and she had apparently forgotten how to breathe.
In her haste to get away from this intimate betrayal, Zahara
took the wrong stairway and found herself in the kitchen. She
stood there, literally turning around in slow circles while her
mind did the same thing. She couldn’t have seen what she
thought she saw. It was impossible. Quinton wouldn’t do that to
her. Would he? And with Treniece? Zahara closed her eyes,
hoping to shut out the images in her brain as she tried to stop
crying, concentrate on praying, control her anger, and will her
feet to move her out to the car. She needed to breathe and it
wasn’t going to happen in this violated airspace.

Before she could pull herself together, Quinton burst
into the room. “Baby, let me explain. It’s not what you think.”

“So now you know what I think Quinton? I find that
laughable. You stand here in the kitchen of my restaurant after
I catch you having sex with my ‘friend’, my business partner,
and NOW you have explanations?”

“Zahara – slow down. This…this meant nothing. It was
just sex. It just happened.”

“That’s rich Quinton. What ‘just happened’, huh? What?
Treniece tripped on the carpet, her clothes fell off, and you
stumbled trying to help her up? So you accidentally ‘fell’ into
the coochie? Take that crap to Def Comedy Jam cause it’s not
working here. ‘Just sex’. No, Love, it’s just cheating. Just
betrayal. Just bullshit. Now if it’s all the same to you, WE are
‘just over’. I’m leaving.”

Quinton stepped forward, blocking Zahara’s exit while
reaching out for her left hand. She took in his 5’10, 190 pound
frame. Noted that he was without shirt, shoes, or socks. He’d
pulled his jeans on so quickly, he didn’t stop to button them.
Breathing rapidly, Zahara tried not to let him read her pain.

Over his shoulder, Zahara saw Treniece standing in the doorway
wearing Quinton’s shirt. That sight pushed her over the edge and
before she knew it, she slapped Quinton so hard, his head snapped
back.

Zahara heard Treniece gasp and watched in slow motion as
her ‘friend’ foolishly moved towards Quinton.

“Oh, so you THAT bold Treniece? Or just that stupid? You
forget who helped you get up out of all your mess? Helped you get
started in this business? Sistahgirl, you forget that I know where
the knives are in this room?”

That wiped the silly smirk off Treniece’s face. Treniece
watched in horror as Zahara picked up a large knife as if to
illustrate her point. She pressed herself into the wall, breathing
hard and fast.

“Quuiiinnntt”, she stammered.

That single word from Treniece tilted the scale between
reality and fantasy for Zahara. She lost all track of time and place.
She felt as if she could taste her own blood and it was boiling.
Before anyone could stop her, Zahara raised her arm and tossed
the knife at Treniece, full force.

Tttthhhhwwwwaaaatttt! The knife was embedded in the
wall, two inches from Treniece’s head.

Quinton muttered, “Shit Zahara. You could have hurt
her!”

Zahara took in the whole scene. Quinton stood scared to
move towards either of them for fear of bringing down the wrath
of the other. Treniece clung to the wall, so frightened, she now
stood barefoot in a puddle of wetness.

Zahara looked at them both with contempt, shook her
head and said, “No Quint, I could have killed her.”

© Jackie Young ~ Copyright 2006