The Reinvention of the Rose - Christina C. Jones Page 0,41

my head as I stepped through the door.

“You let me know what you decide is more important to you.”

When I turned the corner to leave, the first face I saw was Nya, grinning from the doorway of Tristan’s inking room.

“Trouble in paradise?” She asked, clearly thrilled to have been the catalyst for friction between me and Tristan.

That smile dropped from her face as I headed straight for her.

I wasn’t even thinking anymore - what was there to think about? I was sick of this bitch and I needed her to feel it in a way that words didn’t seem to get through to her.

Like my hand around her neck.

Like both hands around her neck, while she wasted what little breath she had screeching and flailing helplessly until Tristan and another artist managed to pry me off her.

Damn shame.

“Sh-she tried to kill me!” Nya sputtered, her face streaked with tears as she scooted across the floor where she’d fallen to get away from me.

“If I was trying to kill you, you’d be dead,” I told her, shaking the hands off me and then stomping back down the hall toward the exit.

“Temp, what the fuck was that?!” Tristan called after me, following me down the hall.

“It was me making a point - I bet she won’t say shit else to me,” I shrugged.

“Yeah but she might press charges.”

“And I’ll beat her ass for real then. Fuck her. Or hell, maybe I shouldn’t say that to you.”

He sucked his teeth. “Man, come on with that shit.”

“No you come on. Unless I’m still being unreasonable.”

From there, I really did leave, exhausted at this point of having this circular conversation with him. He wasn’t interested in seeing past his own bullshit, and I wasn’t interested in accepting it.

And I hated how this whole thing was making me feel.

I’d gone from floating on a cloud of orgasmic bliss to…whatever the fuck this was.

But still, I refused to go along with whatever got dished in my direction. I liked Tristan - a lot.

A whole lot.

However, my inexperience didn’t mean I was stupid.

I’d seen and acted out entirely too much to fall for the usual shit.

That didn’t make it not hurt though.

It took until I was back at the candle shop - without groceries or a lover - that it really hit me. Such a drastic range of emotions over the course of barely half a day… Could that be good for anyone?

Back in my apartment, I pulled out my phone to call Alicia, again.

“I should kill him I think,” I said, as soon as she answered the phone.

“That was a fast honeymoon period,” she said. “What happened?”

“He…shit, I don’t know how to explain it,” I admitted. “But I hate how I feel right now. I hate it. So I should kill him.”

“Killing him wouldn’t solve anything,” Alicia countered.

“It would solve literally everything.”

“Tempest… stop, okay? Just tell me what’s wrong?”

I blew out a big sigh, dropping to the edge of the bed with my eyes closed. “His ex. Well…his exes. He has a kid, and obviously she has a mother. She’s not really the problem though.”

“Okay… So what is then?”

“The more recent ex. And the fact that he’s still involved enough with her that she feels comfortable making slick comments that he won’t check. And not just that - he was tattooing her, and she does his locs for him, and openly flirts, and he doesn’t see a problem with any of it. He expects me to be okay with it. And since I’m not okay with it, he’s acting like I’m… like I’m overreacting for not accepting this bullshit.”

Alicia pushed out a sigh. “Yeah, sounds about right, based on… damn near everything I know, have read, have heard, have seen from men. It’s common. So… welcome to normalcy.”

“Cree wouldn’t do this type of shit.”

“Cree is a grown ass man. He’s got a decade on your little friend over there,” Alicia laughed. “He was probably doing the same shit at twenty and thirty - and let’s not overlook the fact that he literally has a child with my friend.”

“But you all handle it like adults, which makes it work.”

“True. But I thought you said his daughter’s mother isn’t the problem?”

I sighed. “She’s not. It’s this other bitch. Who...I may or may not have choked?”

“Tempest!”

“I’m sick of her mouth!” I defended, even though I knew it was weak. “And I… don’t like that Tristan seems so attached to her. Or that he didn’t seem to have a problem with