Forever. (This. Is. Not. Over. Book 3) (4 page)

“
Jasmine was there when I graduated high school and college and she put up with all my shit. I don’t give a damn how she treats Danielle, Rena or even you. That shit has
nothing
to do with me. Jasmine and I are a completely separate entity. So you fucking with that picture—with that life that I had with her before I married you—means that you’re fucking with me. Now do me a favor and get the fuck out.”

Jacob has spoken.
             

“I’ve been kicked out of better places th
an this,” she says as she looks around my office.

I won’t even respond to that. Instead, I pick up the picture, walk to my safe and begin to unlock it before placing it in there.

By the time I turn back around, Winnie’s gone.

Good.

Jacob

(
worlds
.)

“I’m proud of you
,” she says leaning over and kissing me on the cheek as we sit on the hood of my truck, our backs against the windshield.

“Four years of torture
,” I say as I pick up my graduation cap and toss it in the air before catching it. “But you know me, baby, I make it do what it do.” I wink at her. I, Jacob Blair, graduated summa cum laude from Princeton with a bachelor’s degree in Government.             

“Well you darn near drove me crazy. Just so you know.” She rolls her eyes at me and looks up at the moon. This is what we do, Jasmine and me. We drive up to the edge of Cliff Landing, park my truck dangerously close to
the edge and then look out over the entire city of Princeton, New Jersey. We’re in our own world up here; over hell, below heaven. The city lights below, the moonlight above. Yeah, this is our world.

             
“And to think I have law school to go through.”

             
“Oh God!” she screams out before laughing.

             
“Yeah babygirl, another four years of misery.” I take her hand in mine and kiss the back of it. She kept me sane these four years at Princeton, so I feel bad as hell that my family is at Elements restaurant waiting for me and I’m up here with Jasmine in our world. Jasmine came to see me graduate but she knows that she can’t be with my family. My mother and father have plans for me, and they don’t include me ending up with a potential Miss Black Massachusetts. (A pageant that Jasmine will be entering this fall.) The pageant puts the qualifier ‘Queen’ in front of the winner’s name, so I’m up here with Queen Jasmine. Her skin, her hair, the way she walks, the way she speaks, those dimples, that royal attitude of hers. Yeah, I’m up here with Queen Jasmine and we’re in our own world.

             
“Hasn’t been so bad with you Jacob Blair,” she says as she turns to look at me. She snuck into town to see me graduate, stayed at the Ritz to hide from everyone and then secretly came with me up to this cliff to help me celebrate. But for her, this isn’t so bad.

“One day, we’ll be able to tel
l our parents about each other.” I assure her.

“You think so?”
             

“I do. But to tell you the truth, I’m not too sure Boston’s
black society is ready for their next Queen to come home with a Dane, when I’m sure they had an African king in mind.”

“Oh shut up! An African king…”

“I’m serious. Your parents might disown you. I may be a little lighter than what doctors Harlow and Harlow hoped I’d be.”

“And I’m darker than what Mayor and First Lady Blair expect.” She smiles … damn, those dimples. I brush a finger over them.

“Fuck ‘em, Jasmine Harlow.”

“You said it, Jacob Blair.”

I watch her down the entire glass of rum in one easy gulp.

“Thirsty?” I say to Dena as I slide into an empty seat at her table. She gives me a drunken smile and nod before lifting her glass towards the waitress, requesting another. “Put the both of us on my tab,” I say to the waitress.

“If I w
ere
that girl
, I’d be an easy lay tonight,” Dena says to me.

“And I guess I’ll have what she’s drinking
,” I say to the waitress while pointing to Dena.

“Double shot of Jack Daniels
,” Dena says through a hiccup.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask as the waitress nods and walks away. I didn’t necessarily expect to find Debutante Dena getting wasted alone at McCormick & Schmick's.

“Aside from my best friend not talking to me?” she asks as she smooths over the bun she’s worn in her hair since the moment I met her. Her bun, her dark hair, her white silky shirt, her blue eyes and her diamond earrings— all staples of Dena March. Tonight they look the same as they always have but the makeup around her eyes, whatever it is that’s black, is smudged. Crying?

“Jasmine or Laura?” I slide my coat off.

“Both, but in this instance, Jasmine.” She gives me a playful shrug and smile as she looks like she’s trying to stop herself from crying. I drape my coat over the back of my chair and loosen my tie. I have a feeling I’ll be playing therapist tonight, which is normally Malcolm’s job. I usually don’t care enough about someone to help them through their problems but I’ll give it a go. I square my shoulders like I see Malcolm do when he’s about to advise a client, and then decide to ask a probing question that constitutes me actually caring.

“Why is Jasmine mad?”

“I didn’t tell her about that picture of you and her.” She closes her eyes, gives another bitter smile and shakes her head before opening her eyes again. “But I know Jasmine, we’ve been best friends for five years. I knew that picture would
kill
her so I didn’t mention it. It wasn’t like I held it over her head. I wasn’t happy about it. I wasn’t laughing at her. I never talked about it with Laura.” She hiccups. “I’m a good friend!” She slams the table with her fist.

             
“You are,” I say as I turn to look for the waitress. I’m going to need at least two drinks before I’m able to care about this conversation.

             
“But she’s not talking to me now, just Malcolm and her family.” She hiccups again as the waitress comes over with our drinks.

             
“Thank you,” I say to the waitress eyeing Dena, who’s now biting her fist and sobbing. Jasmine and Dena are both queens. Jasmine of the beauty variety, and Dena of the dramas. The waitress gives me a wary eye before dropping our drinks off at the table. Thankfully, McCormick & Schmick's has a privacy policy.

             
“And then Laura swears to me that she didn’t mail that picture so I call Jasmine and tell her over her voicemail. Well, that was the wrong move; she texted me back telling me to suck a
cock
!”

“Shh …” I say as I look around. Damn, Dena is in rare form. “She’s upset that’s all. After we get her out of this, it’ll be fine.” I take a sip of my Jack. God … where is Malcolm when you need him
?

“And you know what
, Jacob?”

“What’s that?”

“I never in my life thought I’d be friends with Jasmine.” She takes a sip of her drink. “I’m ashamed to admit it now but I didn’t grow up around a lot of … color.” She raises an eyebrow at me. I nod; I understand. “I grew up in Boston; all I knew were Catholics, Irishman, Danes and Italians. I had no idea that I could be best friends with a black woman. A friendship that surpasses any other sorority sister or Junior Leauger in the greater Boston area.” She takes a deep swallow of her drink. “And the truth is that when I talk to Jasmine, when I’m with her, all I see is this woman whom I absolutely adore. This girl who likes her pearls, loves to cook healthy food, likes to listen to her neo-soul music—that is what you call it, right?”

“Yeah.” I take a long swallow of my drink.

“Jasmine is just a good fucking person!” She lets out a sob.

“Yeah, baby, we’re gonna have to keep it down a little bit.”

“And now,” she hiccups, “she’s not talking to me. But she’s my best
friend
!”

“Alright, come on
.” I down the rest of my drink. “I’m taking you home.”

“But do you get me, Jacob?”
she says before emptying her drink. “Do you get that I finally found a woman who is like a sister to me? Someone who I don’t have to force feed medicine to and try to keep sane. Someone that I can just enjoy as a friend and not have to be her savior. And then
bam!
I lose her. All because of this piece of shit guy who married another woman!” She sobs again. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“Come on.” I stand and take my coat off the back of my chair.

“I didn’t come up with that ‘piece of shit’ line, Winnie did.”

“It’s okay, come on.”

“But do you get me Jacob?” she says as tears start to run down her face.

“I get it, baby.”

“I spent my whole life searching for a Jasmine and now
bam!
she’s gone. Do you
get
me, Jacob?”

“More than you know, Dena.” I reach a hand out for her. “
Come on. Let me take you home.”

“God, I miss her.” She reluctantly stands and smooths over her bun. “Where do you think she is now?”

Jasmine

(
danny
.
)

             
Malcolm’s on the phone and he’s talking to my arch enemy, Danielle, otherwise known as
Next
on my Hit List. (Right behind the journalist from
The Globe
and right in front of Laura Rossi.) Malcolm lets out a laugh. I let out a sigh. Danielle’s been a lot of things in life, but she’s never been funny. A bitch? Yes. A two-timing former friend? Certainly. An adulterer? Of course. Humorous? Never. Malcolm laughs again. I sigh again. When are we going to pull away from this curb already? Why save my life just to have me die of misery in this truck? Why can’t they talk later? Don’t they live together? Then again, knowing Danielle, they probably don’t anymore. If Danielle were to leave Malcolm, she would be embarking on her
third
marriage. I’ve been keeping count.

“Yeah, baby … yeah … well can he wait until I come back?” Malcolm laughs. I sigh. “Okay, put him on … I’m in the truck with Jasmine right now …
Trust me, I’m with Jasmine … Really, Red? … So I’m stupid enough to sleep around on you now? As crazy as your ass is? … Yeah … funny …” He lets out a light laugh. I let out a heavy sigh. “Baby, you don’t have it all, but it’s okay. I love you anyway … Tell Rena, don’t start that shit.” He lets out a louder laugh this time. I sigh. “Put Rena on the phone … Rena, listen up, I’m not taking you and Red’s shenanigans tonight … Rena … put down the damn match, Rena.” He laughs. I sigh.

“Are you with Jasmine?” I hear Danielle ask loudly for my benefit.

“Yeah, she’s–” And before he can say anything else, she starts spouting something in French just because she knows I don’t understand it. I hate her!

“Ask her yourself
,” Malcolm replies back in English. Malcolm puts his cell phone in front of me.

“What?” I look at him like he’s lost what’s left of his lovesick mind. “I don’t want to talk to your wife.”
Jasmine! Get on the phone!
I hear Danielle scream through it. I snatch the phone from Malcolm’s hand and throw it up to my ear. “What.”

“Are you coming to Nicky’s Christmas play tomorrow?”
she asks calmly. Oh, I hate her. She’s probably looking all carefree, checking out her nails right now.

“I most certainly am
not
,” I answer with wicked abandon.

“You
do
know that he’s Jesus, right?”

“So what, now you’re the Virgin Mary? Puh.” I hate Danielle for many reasons. Most recently my hate for her stems from her condescending
attitude towards me ever since I called Malcolm about that picture. It’s like she finally has one up on me; I have a naked picture making the rounds around town and she doesn’t. It’s like this is what she’s been waiting for her whole life.

“Well
, don’t get mad at me. Father Harper was the one who gave Nicky the role. So actually our priest considers me the Virgin Mary; and why wouldn’t he? I’ve always been the apple of his eye.”

“Oh please, Father Harper hates you more than I do. I’ve seen the looks he
makes behind your back—like he wishes you would drop dead so he won’t have to see your face anymore! Or keep having to marry you off to different people! Or christen all of these babies you’re having by different people!”

“You want to grab a bite to eat?” Malcolm asks me.