Your Ex Lover Is Dead Ch 04

When I woke up, a male doctor was hovering over me, giving me the strangest look. When I followed his eyes, I saw he was looking at my boner, which was stabbing my blanket.

I snatched the pillow from underneath my head and put it on my crotch. "I had a dream."

"Sure you did," He didn't even look at me. He kept tinkering with his doctor supplies or whatever the fuck they were.

"What happened to me?" The IV in my arm pretty much gave everything away.

"You're in a hospital, Mr. Davis."

No shit.

"No shit, but why?"

Dr. Monotone Asshole was shuffling through manila folders, totally ignoring me.

"You had a panic attack and passed out. We revived you, but we kept you for observation in case anything else happened to you." He turned on his heels. "You have a history of self-harm. You've overdosed before. Twice, actually. We'd be fools not to keep you overnight."

Fuck. I hated medical records. Just when I thought I was over that shit.

"Has anyone visited me?"

He said, without even thinking, with his old ass, "A Roshanda Thomas and Andi Carson."

I was relieved. Just hearing their names put me at ease. "Did you tell them about my medical history?"

"No. Just that you had a panic attack, which is what Ms. Thomas already knew."

I nodded, sitting up further, and snagging a rubberband lying on my bedside table to put my hair into a ponytail. "Can I see them?"

"I'll let the nurse know." He sounded so distracted, yet he knew everything. It was annoying and helpful at the same damn time.

Shit. I just quoted a song on the radio.

A few moments later, Roshanda and Andi entered. Both of them looked like they just woke up, clad in sweatpants. Roshanda was wearing the Beatles t-shirt from the other day, her hair up in a ponytail.

"Hey, you guys." I sat up even more to give Andi a hug. Even if Ro had told her anything bad about me, she still hugged me like she missed me. Roshanda gave me a kiss and a long hug.

"Don't scare me like that again," she warned, squeezing me.

We let go, and I yawned. "What time is it?"

"Noon. We were here last night, waiting for you to wake up. But then they said they were keeping you overnight." Andi tossed her head back and gave herself a ponytail, too.

"I'm glad you're okay, though," Andi looked at Roshanda to see if she would try to kick her out I guess. When she didn't, she threw herself out.

"Well," she breathed, clapping her hands together once. "He's alive and it's been real, but I'm fucking starving. Y'all want anything?"

Roshanda answered, "I'm good. You want anything, Chris?"

I shook my head. The last thing I wanted was to tell her to get me a double cheeseburger loaded with mushrooms and bacon. I was starving too, but I'd feel rude asking her for something, especially if she thought I was screwing around on her bestie.

"Okay. I'll be back." Andi pulled out her phone as she walked away, most likely phoning her Chris Brown-looking boyfriend to let him know that I was okay. Even though he was friends with Roy, we had become pretty cool, too. Whenever Roy came around, it was kind of awkward. He'd just stare at me, but not in a mean way. More like a, I-know-I-fucked-up-and-now-you-got-what-I-wish-I-still-had stare.

Ro lingered, playing with her thumbs like Butters from "South Park." Or Leonard from "The Big Bang Theory." She looked awkward. She wanted to ask me something, but was nervous. So instead, she just pulled up a chair and sat next to me. She held my hand and rubbed the top of mine with her thumb. Then she stared at me with those soulful, emotional eyes and sighed.

"Baby, are you okay?"

I smiled. "Now I am." With my free hand, I traced a finger around her face. The face I couldn't bear to lose to some unexplained phenomena going on with me.

She looked at the pillow on my groin area and frowned. "You getting hard around the nurses now? Am I that ugly to you?" She joked, sounding confrontational on purpose.

I laughed. "Girl, please." After I held up the hand, I contemplated telling her about my dream, but I still didn't wanna spill my guts just yet. It wasn't a good time. I didn't know when a good time would even come around. Dr. Morris said I should just say it. But damn, how do you say something like, "Every girl I've ever been with has died for absolutely no unexplainable reason. But I hope you last the longest out of all of them!"

She smacked my hand away and rolled her eyes. "I'm worried about you," she began, still holding my hand. "You really scared me back there. We've been through this before, but you never blacked out."

I looked away and then placed my eyes back on Roshanda's face. "I know. I'm sorry I put you through that, baby."

Roshanda scoffed. "It's not that you put me through that that worries me. You should never apologize for something like that when it's beyond your control, baby. That's like me apologizing for getting sent to the hospital if I got shot or something."

I nodded. "You're absolutely right."

"Now," Roshanda scooted closer, still holding my hand in hers. "You wanna tell me about that little incident in Reckless? I was about to fight that bitch for you, you know that right?"

I tried to laugh through the sorrow. Tears were forming in my eyes. I did not want to tell her the truth. It was too much.

Maybe if I just explained the part about Reckless. Maybe then she would leave me alone and this would never come up again.

"Raquel. . ." I cleared my throat. "Raquel was friends with the first girl I fell in love with. Her name was Ashleigh. We lost our v-cards to each other and everything. We knew we were in love."

Rashonda inched back a bit, astounded I guess? Not so sure. "Then what happened?"

Fuck. Here came the waterworks.

"I woke up the night when we. . ." A single tear fell down my cheek and Rashonda leapt from her chair to give me a hug. But I was okay after I smelled her sweet strawberry-scented perfume.

"I'm fine now."

Roshanda sat back down, still holding my hand. "Continue."

"She died the morning after. I didn't do anything. I swear. I just woke up and she was gone. Doctors said she had a pre-existing condition. An enlarged heart. So it contributed to her death. But Raquel basically told everyone that I killed her and that it was a cover-up. Everyone who was already not so sure if I killed her before was convinced when Raquel opened her mouth. All because she was jealous that I chose her friend instead of her."

Rashonda's eyebrows were holding hands at this point. "Chris, that is terrible! Did you and your dad sue her?"

"Honestly, the whole ordeal was draining. We tucked our tails between our legs and moved. She basically ran us out of the neighborhood. My dad saw the effect it was having on my mental health. Thought the best way to combat that would be to stop being surrounded by it. That's why we moved to Glenview. We wanted a fresh start. I mean, it wasn't so fresh for me, but it definitely helped. I mean, I almost ki—kicked my smoking habit, but remembering everything about that night...it didn't help."

I couldn't say that I tried to kill myself. Not yet. It was too risky. I'd scare her away. I was surprised what I was saying now wasn't freaking her the fuck out. No, instead she was kissing my hand and I saw her crying, too.

"I'm sorry, Chris. That's horrible. She was your first love," Roshanda held me close, close enough for me to feel like I could tell her anything. But I really couldn't.

I hugged her back, rubbing her back up and down.

"Sweetie, please don't scare me like that again. You were holding all of this in," she wiped her tears away with her wrist. "You could have just told me this. You can tell me anything, baby." She held my face in her hands, still crying a bit.

"Is there anything else I should know? You only had a few panic attacks, but if anything else can trigger them, I wanna know. I wanna know so I can save you if it happens."

"Just say NO" I kept repeating in my head over and over again.

Like the fucking idiot I am, I said "No, Roshanda. That's it."

Knife, meet own back. The hand that holds it is a moron. ..... I was discharged later that day. The nurse gave me a prescription for some Prozac and after picking it up, I took Roshanda to my dad's place in Glenview. I didn't want to think about how I just super lied to Ro, and how I was battling my demons all over again with the whole Cherry situation. I just wanted to spend some time with my girlfriend while my dad was out. He'd be back in a few days. Him and his friends decided to hiking and explore nature and whatnot. My dad was always doing something.

Me and him and were besties because of two reasons. Our united hatred for Susan, my mom, who decided that her image was more important than her family, and our love for practically the same stuff.

When I was younger, my mom abandoned me and my dad because she decided we weren't good enough. My mom was one of those rich bitch types. She was loaded when she met my dad, and even though her parents didn't approve of him—he was basically me, but without the mental issues—she married him anyway. He had his own job and could afford to put them up in a nice place, but no matter what, he was a "gold-digging asshole who just wanted to use Susan as a sugar mom," as Susan's sister put it. So one day, Susan let them get into her head, and she started seeing some guy who basically looked like Buzz Killington and they had a secret affair, which led to her up and leaving my dad. She'd come back to tell him what he already knew and then demand a divorce. With a pre-nup, my dad basically got nothing. But he didn't care. As far as he was concerned, money wouldn't be able to make up for anything she did to him. The fact that he loved her enough to sign the pre-nup anyway speaks both volumes and complete irony to the situation at hand.

He had a nice little home in Glenview. Two floors, two bathrooms, a huge kitchen, and a big ass television in the living room. We'd watch so many movies on that thing. That was our bonding time before I went off to college. My dad was my best friend. We bonded all the time.

"You want anything?" I asked, throwing my jacket down on the couch.

"No, that Wingstop that Andi damn near shoved down my throat was enough." She put her bag on the couch and walked into the kitchen to wash her hot sauce-stained hands.

"What are you about to do, Ro?"

From the kitchen she yelled, "Take a shower, I guess. I know I'm funky."

"Girl you stank, take a bath, girl you stank!"

She threw a sponge at me for my joke and I plopped down and started watching television. Nothing was ever on. Plus, I was sick to death of watching the same shit on FUSE over and over again. I missed the days when it was good, not when it was a copycat MTV.

Nothing. Nothing. "Fight Club." Okay, now we're talking. Even though I'd seen this movie a million times, I just loved the concept. Plus, I had a man crush on Edward Norton.

Sue me.

Fifteen minutes after I settled in, I heard a door slam. I knew it was Ro. I wanted to fuck with her in the best way possible, so I got up, in the midst of Brad Pitt's first appearance, and ran up the stairs. I knocked, and Roshanda gave me the okay to enter. When I did, she was butt ass nekkid, drying off.

Damn.

"Let me help." I closed the door behind me and she waved me off. "I'm fine."

"No no, let me." I walked over and watched as a frowned up Ro folded her arms when I snatched the towel from her. I started drying her off all slow, taking in every inch of her beautiful body, the same way I did when we had sex for the first time after we both showered.

"Lay down," I whispered. I was highly grateful for the setting sunlight that was peering through the window. Ro did as I asked, getting up on the bed and lying down so I could oil her.

I grabbed the baby oil bottle and started generously pouring some on her legs. I made sure to coat them with the oil and then started massaging her legs nice and slow. "Does that feel good, babe?"

"Yes," she delicately whispered, throwing her arms behind her head and relaxing. I loved her thighs. They weren't too big and they weren't too small. And they felt like putty in my hands, all nice and slicked up.

I massaged her feet, kissing her toes and smiling when I saw the corners of her mouth curl. Then, I moved onto her torso, rubbing baby oil on her tits. I got down to her stomach and kissed every inch as slow and gentle as possible. I heard her heart beat and watched her nipples become erect. Pouring more baby oil on her tits, I started massaging her breasts, paying close attention to her nipples, which looked like melted chocolate at this point, except for her erect black diamonds. I started blowing on them, which she really liked.

"Oooh, Chris, that feels so good," she breathed, rubbing my hair and watching me continue to rub her down. I lifted a finger and motioned for her to turn around so I could massage her back, but I was distracted by her lovely round ass.

After I oiled her ass and her back, I massaged her shortly and then turned her over, my hand resting on her pubic area. I whispered, "You want me to play with it?"

She was breathing so heavily as she nodded repeatedly. "Yes. Do it."

I kept my hand lingering over her awaiting pussy, which I know was wet as hella wet at this point. "You want me eat your pussy?"

"Yes, baby. Do it. Do it already."

My finger was two inches away from her clit, and I was breathing on her neck. "You want my dick inside you?"

"Oh my God, yes. Baby, please. Do it!"

I swear, I was about to laugh. I held it in and instead, whispered, "Psych. That's the wrong number."

I quickly got up and started to run out of the room. Roshanda was running after me. "You asshole!"

We both loved the whole "But I'm Not a Rapper" vids that had us dying laughing from time to time. And to kill her whole horny mood like that was funny to me. She knew I'd give her the D eventually.

She caught me and started beating me, her itty bitties shaking as she hit me. "I can't believe you!"

I let her hit me because she knew I was stronger. "That feels great. Oh yes. Keep hitting me."

She stopped and I picked her still-oiled body up and mounted her on the wall. I plowed into her repeatedly and we both made noises louder than we'd ever heard on some of the porn we watched. I was fucking her so good that she had to grab onto me and hold the position until she came. Then I came, my warm jizz filling her up, and I collapsed onto her. We almost fell, but I picked her up and we were laying down on the nearest couch. She straddled my lap and we started making out. When she grabbed my head and held it, I knew she was still thinking about earlier.

I decided to pussyfoot around the issue, grabbing and squeezing her foot and running a finger up and down her leg. "Do you think I'm weird, Roshanda?"

She lifted her head up, which was previously on my shoulder. "No. Why do you say that?"

"I mean, you must think I'm at least a little crazy. Panic attacks. Fucked up family. Penchant for slight violence when fucking. Tattoos and piercings. Come on."

"Chris, you're not weird. And anyone who thinks you are doesn't understand you."

"But people called you weird—"

"Any black girl who doesn't act stereotypically is weird to most people. Ignorant people. But you, you're not weird."

"So you think I'm normal?"

She was playing in my hair when she giggled and said, "I didn't say that either. You just are. You're a beautiful human and I don't know why you don't see that."

"Roshanda, be honest. What's the craziest thing I could tell you that would scare you away?"

She scoffed. "That you hate Beirut. Come on Chris, nothing you could tell me would scare me away."

Fuck. She was making it so easy. I could say it now. I could just let it out.

Her massaging my head felt good. It almost distracted me from the loud noise that came from downstairs.

"TOPHER!! YO, TOPHES!"

It was my dad. I laughed out loud.

"Who is that?"

I pulled back from her and smiled. "My pops." I hopped off of Roshanda. "Put some clothes on, you can meet him now." Roshanda had seen a vague picture of him before, but not in person. My dad was me, but older. Two sleeve tats, an eyebrow ring, and he was at least six-three.

Actually now that I thought about it, Roshanda might mess around and like my dad. So many people thought he was a hottie.

I came downstairs and saw my dad, wearing cargo shorts, his beat-up slip-on checkered Vans, and an RHCP t-shirt. He'd just set his bags down.

"Hey dad! I thought you weren't coming back for a few days!"

We hugged and he when he pulled away, explained, "Rick got bit by something, so we had to rush him to the hospital. But he's fine. We just called the rest of the trip off." There was a cigarette nestled on his left ear, the one with his industrial piercing, the first he ever got.

"How are you, son? Everything's okay?"

Soon as he said that, Rashonda came down, wearing her Beatles tee and some cut-offs. "Mr. Davis!"

My dad walked over and picked her up, spun her around and then set her down. "Nice to meet you, Rashonda." He extended a hand and they shook. "Chris gushes over you. He's always talking about pretty you are, how awesome you are, all that stuff."

Rashonda was eye-fucking the hell out of my dad. I knew she would. He had an eyebrow ring, more tattoos than me, and he was tall.

"I'm gonna fix dinner for you guys. Any requests? I got chicken, steak, pork, what?" He looked at both of us and Rashonda gestured toward me, letting me decide.

"Surprise us." I nodded. "Yeah. Surprise us."

"Do you want any help?" Rashonda offered, still eyeballing him.

"Sure. Just gimme a minute. I need to make a phone call."

She came over to me and whispered, "Your dad is so hot. I see where you get it from."

I laughed. "I knew you would think he was hot."

In the background, I could hear my dad calling Dr. Morris of all people. Why, I didn't know, but before she caught on, I had to distract her. We sat down.

"So your mom is never coming back into the picture?"

I looked at her, with a great deal of sorrow in my eyes and just heavily sighed. I put my arm around her. "No. She's too busy fucking Buzz Killington."

She laughed and started playing with my skullhead belt buckle. "Well fuck her. She missed out on two awesome guys." She looked up at me with such adoration that I was convinced she was in love with me. Then she kissed me. I swear, she was the most amazing girl ever. To lose all this would be to lose a lot. And then some. She really fucking cared about me.

"Roshanda! Get in here so I can get to know you," My dad bellowed, ushering her into the kitchen.

A few hours in and they seemed to be hitting it off pretty well. They had similar tastes in music at some points, though my dad was more of a metal/alternative rock guy. He did, however, enjoy the Beirut and Feist CDs I lent him, and he was very partial to A Tribe Called Quest because they were jazzy, and he loved jazz.

At dinner, Roshanda and my dad were basically becoming besties over their freaky concert experiences. She said she went to Warped when she was younger, going through her hardcore phase. My dad went to go see Gallows in the earlier days of Warped.

"But right now," my dad swallowed a mouthful of chicken stir-fry and washed it down with some wine. "Right now, you got these little shits on the Warped Tour. Fucking girly, sissy bands who don't know the first thing about what Warped is about. I mean, come on! Fucking Katy Perry was at Warped!"

"Exactly! When I went, I wanted to see bands that, though not exactly as hardcore as you'd like, they still represented Warped. Bands like MCR, Bli—"

"No, no. Don't mention MCR. I respect them for not wanting to be emo and having a fanbase that seems to associate itself with them being emo, but no. I hate them. They're like Fall Out Boy. Soon as they got famous, their music changed. When Fall Out Boy started, I respected the fuck out of those guys. And they were from Chicago! Representing us well, right up until 'Infinity on High,' when they pissed on the diehards."