[Riley]

Usually with an argument is how we end our evenings. Wit a slew of 'fuck yous', threats and other insulting words laced with malice and a sick and twisted form of warmth often seen as hatred, each aimed directly at the other with a goal to assassinate each other's character. Once we mutually feel as if the mission is complete, our egos are both left battered and bruised and not an ounce of dignity or a sense of respect for each other or ourselves exists, that argument evolves into a staring contest. Eyes narrowed and filled with disgust, both communicating the pain felt internally from all the abuse we don't even recognize we're inflicting on each other. Our heads shake from exhaustion and our sighs express no relief because we both known this will happen again. All because our love is assembled around building each other up just to break each other down to pieces, and until we can no longer be fixed.

He loves to use me, to mistreat me and I yearn to be needed in any way possible. Our bond, the dependency is like that of a drug. There's an intoxicating high that ensues and that arouses this chase we long for to provoke each other, this infatuation to see who cares more through sparking jealousy, and then there is the heartache. Somehow it all feels good though. Somewhere down the line we both began to believe we needed this in order to function, and so we become oblivious to the point we let the cycle continue and ignore that sensation, that common sense that's advising us both to let this thing go.

However, on this particular night a silence was emerging between us instead of an argument. It was deafening, as still as death yet thought provoking. It left me reflecting on how much longer I could allow being taken for granted? How much longer I could cry myself to sleep after we made up with impassive sex? How much longer he would treat me like his princess and suddenly switch gears and belittle me when he felt like it? How much longer can you feel useless, Riley?

Those answers lay within this current discomfort, this inability of no longer knowing myself and who he was anymore. Not being able to fathom why unlike all our other encounters, neither of us were finding energy to keep hurting each other. I was becoming engulfed by this silence, the echoes of my screaming and his banging on the steering wheel. I was falling weak into an abyss, struggling to cling to something that would distract me from that common sense kicking in. And once my eyes closed I hoped something significant would happen that would make me second guess doing what I should do opposed to what I longed to.

Maybe this time around a genuine apology, evocative words that would lead to a change of his actions, maybe an 'I Love You' that actually meant something so we could then go back to how things were in the beginning. Instead I got my answer and the nerve to leave, to end this madness I would live in forever if I didn't walk away. I got the audacity to stand up for myself, tug at the door handle and push and force myself from this misery.

"Unlock the door, Que."

"If you would just talk to me first then maybe I will, but as of now I refuse to let you out of my sight until you talk to me." he countered as his jaw tightened and tone seethed in anger. "Just respond  to me Riley like a rational human being and with more than a dull ass 'unlock the door'."

"Respond to you?" My head swung in his direction from pure bafflement. "Respond to you. Is that not what I've been doing all this time? Entertaining and reacting to your complete and utter bullshit? You know what? Okay, fine." I rambled, nodding my head profusely. "Okay, so would you prefer a smack across the face or a knee to your nuts? Because those two options of communication are the only ones you deserve! Now, unlock the got damn door Quentin or I'll smash your window out."

"I dare you." he plainly stated and turned in his seat, just enough to get a view of what he figured was a joke. "Do it, Riley. Break my window if you've really got the balls and see what the fuck happens."

"Oh?"

His challenge did nothing but make me even bolder than I was before. It conjured a strength that I was unaware I had, it clenched my hand into a fist and threw it against the frame of the window as warning shots. But Quentin still didn't budge. He only found humor in my actions as a robust laugh began to occupy our limited space, fueling power through my veins before my fist banged against the glass repeatedly and my pleads for freedom burned my throat and exploited his ears. That was until the blood oozing from my broken skin, seeping into the cracks of the shattered glass caught his attention, and the locks of the doors resounded in the core of it all. With one last tug I swung the door open and left what felt like a prison, quickly walking away only to be chased and captured within his arms that within seconds numbed me.

"I hate you. I hate you so fucking much! Just let me go, let me go!" I begged with hot tears streaming down my face, the cusps of my eyes stinging the more my vision blurred.

I could see nothing but the orange illuminations from the steel poles above us, and the bright headlights of one of the scarce cars that found itself on this side street aside my apartment that we always ended up along. I wanted whoever was inside of it to save me. Rescue me from this reoccurring situation, from me and from him because just when I thought it was over and for good, I had one more battle to fight. The battle was always him, this was always about him.

"Riley, just...please calm down. I'm sorry, alright?" Quentin claimed as his breath grazed my skin, driving my body to shutter as I cursed his being. "I'm sorry, just...just stop being impossible and look at me, talk to me! Please, for me."

"Fuck you!" I yelled and found the space to twist around in his grip, posturing myself in an angle good enough to punch my fists against his hardened chest. "You're a piece of shit and a waste. I hate you."

The blood was all on him now just as the blame for our destruction was.

Quentin Knight was the reason behind why we went from high school sweethearts to two volatile individuals always on the cusp of a homicide. His sweet nothings lured me into love, while his cheating and lies dragged me through the mud. His secrets blinded me and over the years sculpted me into a twenty-two year young woman who lost what little of herself she had to began with. I was even more naïve, a complete idiot, lost and broken. And somehow now just like every other episode, I still felt like nothing without him. That is how I had fooled myself and ended up back at square one like always.

Though I wanted him far away from me; gone, nonexistent and maybe even dead, I knew tonight was no longer the night my desire became my reality. As far as I was concerned, the moment it did, the moment I finally did abandon him and we were done, he would be. He would be dead to me and a lost memory.

--

"So are you actually going to talk to us about this or keep flipping omelettes as if we're not here?" Leslie questioned, her peeved attitude fracturing the quietness on my end and clacking of heels meshed with drafts of wind on hers.

For a second I forgot I even had a FaceTime call going on my MacBook. I literally answered the faint and very familiar ring, only to offer up a half ass greeting and proceed on with extracting egg whites, vegetables and other needed ingredients from the refrigerator to prepare breakfast.

I was far more intrigued with the process of spraying a skillet with Pam and counting down how long each piece of turkey bacon in it needed to brown, than discussing something that I wasn't sure even mattered. I'd rather make sure my second omelette didn't burn due to paralyzing flashbacks of my past and overload three flutes of orange juice with brut champagne than converse about something I'm sure was all in my head. I preferred ignoring my consciousness, and act as if this morning was just like any other and I was perfectly fine, in good spirits like usual. I simply wanted to ignore the last few hours of my life and move onward.

"I'm sorry, but talk about what exactly?" Leslie scoffed and Donovan sucked his teeth in return to my rigidness as I cut off the stove and pressed my lips against the rim of my glass of Mimosa for a quick sip.

"I'm serious. What is the topic again? Besides, I'm pretty sure my plate," I began as I finally walked over to a stool, rooting myself in it and turned the computer screen toward my completed masterpiece. "Is more interesting than that motherfucker."

"There it is!" Leslie sputtered out as I angled the screen back to my face. "So you are aware that last night you drunk dialed us both and garbled over the phone for a good hour? That was before we realized who the hell you were even talking about and before you emptied your insides into I hope a toilet."

"Yes. Yes I am, unfortunately." I muttered and stabbed my fork into a piece of cantaloupe before taking a bite. "So, how are you two negro's day going so far?"

"Don't you even try and switch this conversation up on us." Donovan shot back as his blue eyes locked with mine once they flew up to the camera.

"Right bitch, you're sober now so spill the beans."

"For Christ sake, there are no damn beans! I went to a club last night only to find out my ex-boyfriend, someone I shared all my firsts with and also the guy who practically ruined my life is the lead singer of a band I'm supposedly signing to my label. What are the freaking odds of that happening? Then he just stood there, like the asshole that he is and held a smug ass smirk on his face. He was waiting to strike a nerve, he was waiting to crawl under my skin and he might have been successful at it because last night I couldn't think straight or sleep." I admitted and snatched up a slice of bacon to nibble on. "And now I'm dreading the moment he calls or walks into my office. I just... I want to strangle him."

"So the question now is, are you okay?" Donovan quizzed, his concern lingering into his words. "Signs of alcohol and this early in the day aren't good, and you know how you can get."

"It's almost twelve here."

"It's still early."

"Look, I'm working from home today so I am fine." I gritted with a roll of my eyes. "It's Friday too, so why the hell not have a drink? Now stop asking me so many damn questions."

"Ooh, you can get rid of that nasty little attitude." Leslie scolded as her upper lip curled up in disgust. "We're looking out for you, hussy. So don't come at him too sideways or else we'll hang up and leave your ass alone to deal with this yourself."

She was right. I had no right taking my emotions out on those close to me when all these two were trying to do was make sure my well-being wasn't in danger. Even if the both of them were used to these kind of moments and how I dealt with them, the treatment I was dishing out in return wasn't fair. There would be no one to blame but myself if they left me to cope on my lonesome, so it was best to swallow my pride, rid my irritability and apologize.

"Sorry." I mumbled, taking another snip from my bacon. 

Donovan nodded his head as if to indicate he had forgiven me, but the look in his eyes told me either he actually hadn't or something else was now upsetting him. Reading him wasn't always the easiest. In fact attempting to do it now was making my head throb more than it already was, which meant I'd leave him be for now and ignore what I had noted as guilt.

"You know, it's just blowing my mind how after all these years he's back. He is still very much alive and here in L.A. in the flesh. I literally uprooted my entire life in New York to better myself, to start a new chapter only for an old one to open itself back up and for him to slither out of it and find me here."

"It's just as shocking to me girl. The last time I saw Quentin was...was in handcuffs." Leslie stammered out as she bit into her bottom lip at her realization.

"Yeah, that pretty much sums up the demise of our relationship."

"You never got over him, Riley. You never got over that particular night. You never spoke out about what you all went through and you never actively recovered from the damage." Leslie continued to point out. "Instead you kept it to yourself and just ran away, not once looking back. You basically got amnesia and forgot that part of your life existed."

"That's what I'm good at."

"The best of the best actually. Sometimes I wonder do Donny and I even know everything that went on between you all once things started to get bad. You never liked to share much, but we saw signs that the relationship was unhealthy. The hysterical sobbing, the times you'd actually leave his place only to come home and spend hours yelling over the phone. The bouts of him unexpectedly showing up at our apartment complex to bang on the front door. Then at one point you all were fine again, it was like high school. But after that the arguing crept up on us all, quickly turning into sliced up hands, bruises..." Her statement loitered off as I sighed and shook head, wanting to erase the images that were spiraling out of control in my memory.

"He never hit me."

"Are you sure?" she grilled not sounding convinced.

"Never." I asserted and drew my eyes away from the camera to cater to my food growing cold by the second. "I was so reckless with him, so stupid. Some days, some nights all I felt like I could do to get his attention and to get him to understand me was to fight in any way, shape, or form. But he never hit me, just tried to restrain me before it ever got that far." 

"That's still putting his hands on you, Riley." Donovan finally cleared his throat to say. "I told you that then and I'm saying it again now. He didn't have to touch you at all, he could've just walked away."

"When you're young and supposedly in love to the point you want to kill your significant other, that's not likely. That night that Leslie casually remembered seconds ago, where he left in handcuffs, the argument got so intense. Our neighbors were over the college kids up the hall keeping them awake with all their yelling at one in the morning. So they called the cops and what they pulled up to looked so bad. He di-"

"Hey!" My head jerked up from my plate as Donovan's tense interruption cut my ears. "Let's not get into that. Whatever happened to the order of protection we practically pleaded with you to get that same night?"

Then I was reminded. At the time that piece of paper seemed like the only solution to separating the two of us, so I had no choice but to comply with my family and friend's advice and put it in place. If I hadn't, I'm sure this little recollection of my early twenties would have ended a lot worse than it did.

"After five years it became invalid, and after that I figured fate wouldn't dare put him in my path again, so it wasn't an issue. Guess I was wrong."

"Man, it's coming back to me like it was just yesterday." Leslie started as she joined in on the detailed reminiscing, leaving me to take a short detour and grab my glass still full of a drink waiting to be digested. I needed it more than anything right now.

"Your father wanted to beat his ass to the pulp when we called him, never witnessed a pastor enraged until that day. He flew up here to New York and after that, no one ever spoke about the ordeal. Our focus was to make sure Quentin obeyed the order and your focus became life after college and Cole. Speaking of Cole," My attention immediately darted down to my phone that rested at the corner of the counter; still no missed calls or messages.

"Does Lamarr know about Quentin?"

"No," I mouthed lowly as my fingers hesitated to unlock my screen and make another desperate attempt to hear his voice, ignoring this feeling that I was blatantly being avoided. "I mean, unless he remembers me telling him about my horrid ex back when we first met. If not then no, he is clueless."

"So he doesn't know anything?" The inflection placed on that last word implied that anything included more than what was currently being discussed, as it did. "Like, nothing?"

"I said no, dammit." A chuckle slipped my lips as Leslie smirked and stuck her tongue out, slowly finding humor in her nosy antics. What turned into a session to laugh and relieve ourselves of the dim mood overwhelming this conversation was short-lived when Donovan spoke up once more, proving my assumptions from earlier to be correct.

"Now you have to relive your past and it's all my fault. I should've got more information on him. Then I would've known not to recommend him to you. "

"You didn't know it was him, Donny." I insisted. "His government name wasn't attached to the band's name, neither was his face when I did my own research. His manager never ever mentioned him to me either, so you had no clue just as I didn't."

"I still feel as though I should take the blame. As a friend I have to protect you and I didn't." he nearly whispered as he rested against the arm of his chair and looked away from the camera, avoiding the gazes of Leslie and I. "Tell me you're not going to work with him."

"I don't know. If I'm lucky he'll lose my business card, reconsider, and go into a deal with someone else."

"You're not that lucky, beloved." Leslie bit back, shrugging her shoulders innocently as I cut my eyes at her.

"Seriously, Ry. Be careful." Donovan warned drifting his concentration to me. "This can get ugly and if he hasn't changed one bit, he'll try to ruin more than your relationship with Lamarr. He'll try to break your career, your life and you again."

"Unless of course he doesn't still have a hold on me, which he doesn't."

"Sit in a room with him longer than a minute and tell me if that changes. He was your first love Riley. Donovan is right, be careful and be smart. Tread lightly."

————–

[Lamarr]

Ry 3:19 PM

Hey, I called you twice yesterday and you never returned either. I guess you're busy, which I understand but can you please call me back? Even a text would work. I just wanna make sure you're good, okay? I love you, Lamarr.

Just like the other distorted messages she sent to me last night, this one went ignored, making this particular task one of the hardest yet that I've ever had to do in my life. It was taking everything in me not to click the bubble under her thread and reply, letting her know that I was fine and that I actually missed her like shit. More than that I wanted to just dial Riley's number back and hear her voice or attempt to feel some of her energy through the speaker just as she feigned to with the words she sent me. Only fucked up thing about that was that my head wasn't in the right place to do it, and neither were my feelings.

Since my tiny epiphany yesterday afternoon all I managed to do was dig myself deeper into a bunch of assumptions and those made me angrier. That anger then smeared images in my head of a confrontation with Ib and Omen where no words were exchanged, only blows to someone's face and a few kicks to another's ribs. Aside from that I was visualizing myself lashing out on Riley so vividly, cursing and saying things that I probably didn't mean all because I chose to act erratically to this