Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
CHAPTER SIX
Founding Fathers
The time was 4:12 AM. Lennox tossed his keys onto his hallway table. The echo of the metal hitting the wood reverberated in his home. On the outside, the one-story brick house was rather modest, with adequate landscaping, an American flag, and nice curb appeal, but on the inside he’d turned it into a modern spot, with state-of-the-art appliances and brushed metals and wood. He kept his place clean, airy, minimalistic, yet presentable.
The faint smell of coffee from the day before lingered in the air. He caught his reflection in a nearby wood-framed mirror hanging in the adjacent waiting area of his dwelling, and slowed as he removed his leather jacket. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, but full of hope. It had been a long night of hashing it out with Nadia, but that was much needed. In many ways, she was the same ol’ Nadia, but in others she’d changed.
More mature, for one. She was upfront with her feelings, not having to be coaxed to express her disappointments, mistakes and needs. She did not belabor any of the details, and didn’t share too much. She seemed more open. Approachable. However, she was also an enigma. That turned him on even more. The woman she’d once been and the woman she’d become had merged into a beautiful puzzle he was desperate to solve. The prospect that their hours spent catching up were only the tip of the iceberg was, for him, icing on the cake. She was intriguing. She excited him. She was hardworking and a blend of old-fashioned and contemporary.
If it were somehow possible, she was even more beautiful now than before. She’d filled out a bit, she glowed. They’d gone back and forth for several hours, filling in the holes of worn memories and dusting off the broken pieces of glass from their pasts, trying to fix something that was intended to be mutilated and damaged until they left this thing called life. And yet, as a duo, they were patching it back together, one jagged edge at a time.
He stood there in front of that mirror, replaying their conversation in his mind. Remembering how, after her second glass of Vodka and cranberry juice, her tongue had loosened and the confessions poured out a little easier.
Like how she’d been jealous of him and an ex-girlfriend, Vicki. He’d had no clue about her feelings. Nadia shared that Vicki had threatened her, way back then—told her to back off. Seemingly, it involved the woman’s intuition that Nadia had the hots for her man and their ‘innocent’ work powwows hadn’t been so innocent after all.
Nadia also admitted that she would check up on him every now and again, too—such as asking people how he was, and trying to find any trace of him on social media to spy on him from afar. She had frustrations at his lack of a cyberspace footprint. Indeed, he kept his private life pretty much offline, so she’d been left with more questions than answers.
He hung his jacket up and made his way to his kitchen. He had to be at work in a few hours, but wasn’t in the mood for sleep. His mind was running a mile per minute and showed no signs of slowing down. After washing his hands, he opened the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of filtered water. All he could hear was his own breathing and loud swallowing as he stood in the dimly lit room. When he was finished, he smelled a bit of her perfume on him, from when he’d hugged her goodbye. He pulled at his shirt, pinched the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, and brought the material to his nose. Closing his eyes, he inhaled all that was her, falling into a beautiful trance.
He ultimately released the cloth, and got back to his agenda. Placing the empty glass in the sink, he headed up the hallway to his bedroom, where he stripped down to his black boxer briefs and slipped under the thick comforter, cellphone in hand.
As soon as he opened the device to view workout equipment and routines, perhaps listen to a bit of music, he noticed a missed text message sent a couple of hours earlier, around the time he silenced his notifications while with Nadia. Rubbing his eyes, he brought the phone closer to his face, squinting to make out the words through tired eyes. It was his father.
Raking his hair back, he loudly exhaled. He called his father’s number, cleared his throat and waited.
“Good, you’re awake,” the man answered on the third ring. “How are you doing?” Dad’s voice slurred as if he’d been drinking. His tone moved in sluggish waves.
“How am I doing? Dad, do you know what time it is? I’m in bed.”
“Okay, I’ll just make this quick.”