The Other Woman

"Ok" he pauses, "get eaten by a lion or an alligator?"
"Ooh, that's a difficult one" I retort, resting my warm mug of hot chocolate into the unfolded cup holder in front of me. "I'll go with the croc, it would be over faster with the whole drowning scheme."
Tre chuckles "If you say so" from the driver's seat, slowly shaking his head as he veers the white rental car onto a calm street with a large hill approaching in the distance.
"Your turn" he reminds, continuing to drive us towards his home that he shares with his ex-wife and son.

"Let me think" I grin while leaning my head against his broad shoulder. I feel his warm lips press an innocent kiss to my temple, causing a small smile to peek through my lips.
"Ok, I have one." I state rather exuberantly. "Would you rather have no lips and a broom as a leg, OR have one eye in the center of your forehead with pencils as fingers?"

"What the hell?!" he quips with a laugh. "What kind of scenario is that? You have to pick realistic situations baby," he coos from the driver's seat, adding another adequate kiss to my temple afterwards. Removing my head off his solacing shoulder, I offer an unimpressed glare.
"So getting eaten by crocs and lions is realistic?"
"It could happen" he grins.

Grandiose houses and mansions of all sorts begin whizzing pass me through the tinted car window. Iron and brass gates flush about and small but surely posh and expensive boutiques now appear.

"I take it we're close to your house" I mumble, picking up the mug and draining the last of its chocolately contents. Tre only nods before clicking off the radio and using his left hand to already remove the obtrusive safety belt. And within a span of merely ten seconds, he's parking the car in front of a large and simply beautiful two-story house. Two stone pillars decorate the sides of the porch, and cobblestone steps lead the way to the front door. I can even make out a small toy truck ready for Tre, or me, to trip over in the walkway.

"I'm kind of scared... " I admit quietly, hands slightly shaking as I remove my seatbelt. He sees my slight discomfort and waists no time in cupping my face into his hands, pressing his lips to mine in a powerful and calming kiss.
"Don't be scared, Frankito only bites when I tell him to" he winks.

"Tre... " Claudia warns, a small hand on her waist as she gives the drummer a warning glare. "I'm serious, the school bus comes early for him, so make sure he's in bed on time."
"I heard you for the millionth time Claud, don't worry about it," Tre grumbles as he screws off the green bottle top of his beer. She quickly rolls her eyes at him, spouting, "It was nice meeting you Serenity."
I immediately lean off the island, breaking out of my observant gaze of the past lovers and snapping back to current reality.
"Thanks, it was nice meeting you too," I reply with a genuine smile. She nods her head before readjusting her purse strap on her sleek shoulder, grabbing her keys and exiting the kitchen.

"You alright?" Tre asks with a cocked and curious eyebrow, still sipping nonchalantly on his beer.
"Yea" I shrug, "just trying to get settled in." He opens his mouth to say something in response, but is appropriately interrupted by Frankito who's bursting into the kitchen and tugging on his father's knees.
"DAAAAAADDYYYY" the 4 year old whines. I watch in adoration as Tre settles his beer down on the counter, and quickly lift his son into his arms, popping a kiss onto his forehead.
"What's up?" he asks
"My bike, mommy neva fix it. I wanna wiiide." Frankito confesses to his dad, his gorgeously big and bright eyes peering into Tre's, a remarkable resemblance to each other.
"Ok, me and Seny are gonna fix your bike, ok? And then you can ride around the block."

Frankito nods happily as Tre settles him down on the floor once again. He briefly smiles at me before scurrying himself into the living room to play with an assortment of toys. I barely notice when Tre slithers next to me, and cups his fingers around the back of my neck, pressing his finger against the pulse points and causing me to shiver yet again.
"I love you," he whispers into my ear, adding a gentle kiss to the corner of my jaw.
"Love you too," I reply, adding a kiss to his neck. "And don't think that you're little displays of affection are going to make me fix Frankito's bike by myself," I grin widely.

"Dammit" he grumbles, taking a dainty sip of beer.

Time had quickly churned by during the mending of Frankito's bicycle. The tires needed air, and the oily metal chain adjacent to the pedals was detached from the bike itself, which made it seem impossible to repair. But Tre was not to be underestimated, and after a few scuffles with a screwdriver, difficulties in pumping air back and forth, and plenty of elbow grease, Frankito's bike was fully repaired. When the miniature Tre saw his fixed bike, he smiled brightly before throwing his legs atop the bike and pushing his little legs along the pedals. And after an hour or two of riding and playing with Frankito, we were beat, not to mention filthy.

"Frankito, put your clothes on!" Tre shouts across the living room at his freshly washed son, scratching his sandy hair.
"I need a shower sooo bad," I declare, taking a glimpse at the oil and dirt stuck inside the crevices of my fingernails. Tre leans in next to me on the couch, laying his head on my shoulder.
"When Kito goes to bed, we can shower together," he whispers tiredly into my ear. I grin before shaking my head and glancing at the nearby grandfather clock.

"As wonderful as that sounds, I'm dirty NOW. Not hours from now, its only 6 p.m."
"The dirtier the better" he continues, now slinging one arm over my torso, pressing his lips to my sweat dried neck.

"DAAAAAD" Frankito blurts as he enters the living room, hopping on the couch between Tre and I.
"What now Kito?" Tre faux whines, arms wrapping around his son for a sturdy hug.
"Pizza! When pizza coming?"
"Later, I only called 10 minutes ago" Tre yawns, adding another scratch of nails abroad his head.

"I thirsty."
"You want a milkshake?" I ask modestly to the young creature beside me.
"I like milkshake" he beams from his father's lap.
"Ok, do you wanna help me make some?" I inquire with a grin, with Tre smirking madly at me from the side.

"Ok" he nods, already running off towards the kitchen.
"While you and him make milkshakes, I'll take a shower" Tre mumbles pleasantly, stretching his arms above his head and allowing his shirt to ride up just a bit, revealing a small glimpse of his deliciously toned stomach.
"Fine by me" I nod.
"Alright, I'll be a few minutes, and don't burn my house down Seny" he faux warns after patting my head.

"I'll try not to" I reply with a roll of my eyes.

Pacing through Tre's kitchen, I open the large framed refrigerator, trying my best to locate any items worthy of a delicious and memorable milkshake. I place the gallon of milk atop the island, Frankito only steps behind with a small bottle of vanilla in his tiny grasp. He hoists himself up on a bar stool on the island while I still search and rummage around for any other delicacies.

"Mmm, I'll make strawberry milkshakes." I pronounce to myself after noticing a small tray of the red fruits placed on the farthest shelf up top. "Do you like strawberry milkshakes sweety?"
He fervently nods his head, "mommy never makes strawbewwy shakes."

Not paying any detailed attention to his words, I nod my head while placing the package of bright berries on the countertop, dicing them up into even brighter chunks before tossing them into a stainless steal blender not far away.
"Ok, pass me the milk" I offer, smiling as he swiftly hands me the measured milk. I pour the white liquid into the blender, before adding sugar, cream and a bit of ice.
"You wanna press the button?" I suggest when all the ingredients are inside.
"Yea!" he exclaims as I hoist him up and the loud buzzing of the blender bludgeons the kitchen. Within two minutes the milkshakes are complete, and Frankito is already grabbing his favorite batman cup from a nearby cupboard. He appears next to me, motioning for me to fill him up.
"Its good," he chirps from below, a pink mustache marring his upper lip. I laugh as I pour my own glass full of the sweet liquid, sighing as the cool contents wash my quenched throat. Just as I put the cup to my lips for another hearty swig, Frankito begins coughing.

"You ok?" I ask with slight concern. When he continues coughing, my slight concern morphs into distress. His cup drops to the floor, the sticky mess splashing onto the tile and onto both of our feet. His face is slowly changing from a fresh and healthy glow to a cherry red, frightening me as each second ticks by. Dropping my cup, I quickly beat his back, desperately trying to knock whatever it was that is lodged in his throat.

"Oh God" I murmur, tears brimming my eyes. He's now choking, his innocent face chock full of tears and nose drippings.

"TRE!!!"
In only a matter of seconds, Tre's dashing down the stairs upon hearing my scream, and into the kitchen. His hair is still damp and his shirt clings around his damp neck.
"What happened?!" he screeches, taking his son into his arms for examination, and almost immediately Frankito breaks out into hives, covering his face and breaking out on his arms.

" I-I dunno, he jus- just, started coughing.!" I stutter with fear. Tre seems to ignore my less than useful answer, mumbling things to his son as he cries more, the coughing occasionally ceasing.

"What the hell did you give him?!" he suddenly barks. Stunned, I cannot respond as tears begin brimming my own eyes. This was NOT the first impression that I intended to give.
Tre grumbles at my silence and skids over to the wall mount where his car keys are hanging on a wooden fixture. Seconds away from scooping up Frankito in his arms, he sees the pink colored liquid on the floor, and bends down to sniff it.

"Are there strawberries in this?"
I nod my head in response while a few tears drop down my cheeks, not knowing what else to think or do. Tre groans saying, "He's allergic to fucking strawberries, why do you think it's on the top shelf."

"I just got here, how was I sup—"
"I have to take him to the hospital" he interrupts me. He then quickly scoops his son up into his arms and practically sprints out of the kitchen and out the front door.

Completely torn, I let the tears fall and flow. I had just destroyed another relationship. Surely Tre would kick me out of the house for nearly killing his only son. So I march upstairs, trudging into the bathroom to wash my worries off my face. In his bedroom, I quickly gather my bags and begin folding the few items that I had managed to remove from earlier in the day. My phone is centimeters away, and the need to call ANYONE but Tre overwhelms me.

"Hello?" he mumbles.
"Rick?" I choke out.
"Seny? What's wrong?"
"I-I, I almost killed his kid" I stifle

"What? What kid?"
"Tre... I'm at his, his, his house," I stutter miserably, "and I made a milkshake and he's allergic to it."
"Is he o.k?" he asks sincerely
"I dunno" I wail, "and Tre yelled at me. Its my first day here, so my things are already packed."

"I doubt he's gonna kick you out Seny" mumbles Rick, his foolish tone seemingly annoying.
"I don't know what to do. I don't want to be here when they come back, the poor kid probably hates me."
"Your being way too dramatic, calm your ass down already."
Letting out a final sniffle, I sigh before taking a seat at the edge of Tre's bed. Looking around the large and comfy room that I would probably never see again.

"Should I go to sleep? I don't wanna talk to him," I complain.
"If you sleep, then its like you don't care," he responds truthfully.

"You're right" I sigh, "what about just taking a cab and leaving?" I suggest truthfully
"Don't think so. Just chill and wait, I have to go though, I'll call you in half an hour when I get off from work."
"Ok, thanks Rick" I mumble
"No prob, bye"

This leaves me entirely stoic and lonely inside Tre's home. He had yet to call and inform me of the status of Frankito, and adding to my despair, the house was getting rather dark as night approached. I wasn't even sure how the alarm system worked or not, or even where many of the light switches were located.

With a tiring sigh, and a shaky hand threading through flat hair, I march downstairs into the living room, and switch on the television for a source of light, sound, and bit of sanity. My heart isn't concentrating on the television and its comedy skit, it still aches for something... or someone. Now chewing on my long fingernails, my eyes glance about the dim room and towards the kitchen where the mess of past hours still lay. Practically flying off the couch, I skid into the kitchen and dive into cleaning up the mess I had created. From the spilled 'lethal' shake still glued to the tiled floor, and that sugary mess still scattered on the island, I grab a sponge inside the wide metallic sink and begin cleaning the entire area.

The ringing of the doorbell ringing, resounds through my ear. Fear takes hold of me, and that an angry Tre is waiting at the door. So I slowly trudge over, unlocking and opening the door to breathe a sigh of relief. It's the pizza man.

"You ordered two large pizzas, one pepperoni, one cheese?"
"Um about that, I cancelled the order twenty minutes ago. I'm sorry," I lie, lie because I'm completely broke and wouldnt even THINK to take Tre's money and pay for it.
The man sucks his teeth, muttering "sorry" before stomping off back to the rusty white car.

About a half hour into cleaning, just as I bend down to flit the dust that I had previously swept into a dustpan, the creak of the door and a jingle of keys echoes through my tainted ears. I'm not sure whether to stand up and signal my presence, or simply sweep up the mess and pretend that I don't hear anything.

Being deaf sounds good to me...

And so I sweep, my body hidden behind the towers of cupboards, shelves, and thick wall separating the living room from the kitchen. But the long end of the broom, protruding upwards to the heavens will surely aware him of my presence. The sounds of the television abruptly stop, and the only thing audible inside the house is silence. Panicking for a second that a stranger might be in the house, I stand up strikingly, a weapon consisting of a plastic pan and gritty dust inside. Tre appears up front, a stuffed animal in his hand as his fingers push buttons on the answering machine beside him. The machine just so happens to be located on the counter directly connecting the kitchen to the living room. I stare at him for a second, and dart my eyes to my shoes when he looks up, neither of us making a sound. The tears begin prickling my eyes yet again, so I turn around, emptying the dusty contents in my hand into the garbage and hiding the swelling of tears in my eyes from Tre.

"You don't have to clean that" he mumbles softly, his footsteps now approaching. I wipe a tear with a brush of my thumb.
"It's ok, I- I'm the one who made it." I manage to croak out in a weak and faltering voice.
"Seny... " he persists softly, gently taking the broomstick and dustpan from my hands; "you really don't have to".

The tears are only bits away from falling, and I know he can see that I'd been crying. His mouth opens to speak, but I interrupt.
"Is Frankito ok?" I ask with a cracked voice.
"Yea, they just gave him a bunch of shots to reduce hives and swelling. He's asleep upstairs." He responds softly, sadly.

"Tre" I start shakily, "I'm really sorry. I had no idea he was allergic to strawberries." I have yet to let a tear fall, but when he caresses the side of my face with his palm, fingers trailing delicately over my skin, the dam breaks and my tears flow as if there's no tomorrow.

"I''m sorry I yelled at you Seny," he states gently. When my crying persists he sighs in defeat. "I'm such an asshole," he mutters as my head falls to his shoulders, his hands rubbing up and down my back for comfort.
"I'm really sorry baby, I was just really shook up," he continues.

"I should've figured it out though," I sniffle softly, propping my head from off his shoulder, wanting to gaze into his eyes.
"No," he insists, "just because they're on the top shelf doesn't mean anything. I'm a stupid dickhead," he rants, running his hand through his ginger hair in utter frustration. Still standing, a concoction of guilt and hurt swirling through me, I let out a tiring sigh, suddenly remembering my packed luggage upstairs.

"Do you want me to leave?" I inquire softly
"What? Leave my house?"
I nod my head, but frown a bit when he begins chuckling. "Why would I want you to leave?!" he retorts. "You're somethin' else," he teases, adding a much-needed kiss to my cheek.

"When you left, I went upstairs and packed my bags," I admit with a faint smile, almost blushing at my stupidity. Tre continues laughing, this time a bit harder, causing me to roll my eyes and push away from him. With a famished appetite and a grumbling stomach, I wordlessly wander into the pantry, finding a can of tuna to consume.

"Heeeyyy!! You can't eat that!" he exclaims, brushing up behind me and playfully snatching the green and white colored can from my grasp.
"And why?"
"Cause I'm taking you out to dinner tonight," he explains with a suspicious grin.

"Dinner ey?"
"Mhmmm" he nods, now closing the distance between us and threading his fingers through my hair. "And then after we get back, plenty, and I mean plenty of make up sex."

Giggling, I manage to nod my head in complete and total agreement.

"Oh God" Tre groans, fumbling desperately with the doorknob to his bedroom. Practically gluing myself to his back, I kiss and nip at his earlobes and the back of his neck, stretching my arms from behind and allowing my hands to touch his belt buckle and crotch.

With a quick jolt, he thunders inside, and before I can even take a half a step, he's pulling my arm and dragging me in as if I'm a sack of potatoes. With no room for giggles, jokes, and barely breathing, I hurriedly shed his tie from his dress shirt, tossing it into the depths of nowhere in particular, still kissing his smooth lips. His rough hands touch everywhere, everywhere that he couldn't touch during dinner, where we had to be guarded incase we mauled each other in front of the other restaurateurs.

"I hope you had a goodnight's sleep yesterday," he mutters between kisses, finally walking us towards his bed, where we crash down into a heap of lust and love. His scent surrounds and overwhelms me, entrapped in the pillows, comforter, mattress, every thing.
"Why?" I breathe, opening my legs so he can maneuver himself comfortably between.

He kisses my neck, swiping his tongue along my throat, meriting moans of approval from me. With an arched back, and fingernails digging through his soon to be naked back, he responds, "Cuz, I'm gonna make love to you... all night long"

And that we did.

Another rationing of days had passed, and it was time for me to go home to the warm city of Miami, which I most missed. Rick would be there wanting to hear the latest gossip and news, my new job at Miami Design Inc. would be starting, and everything was going so well, almost perfect. Throughout the remaining days spent at Tre's, I had managed to apologize to Frankito about a million times, and branded in my mind that Frankito + strawberries= NO. The child had clearly forgotten the incident, and took to liking me quite a bit.

"I don't get it. Do you want me to go to New York and meet up with you there... or just come here?"
"Ughh" he groans miserably, "I'm gonna book you a fucking flight to Pennsylvania, because that's where our fucking tour stops at before the MTV New Years shit, then you're gonna fucking meet me there, then we're gonna fucking go to New York TO-FUCKING-GETHER. And I'll pick up my daughter. Now do you fucking get it?" he seethes, irritated by me asking him the same damned question over and over... and over again.

"Ehhh, I don't get it" I giggle, throwing another long sleeved shirt into my suitcase.
"I give up!" he sighs exaggeratingly, flopping onto the bed next to my suitcase. Humming an old Madonna tune with pursed lips, I ignore his comment continuing to pack away my things. Bored and somewhat gloomy, he gives me puppy eyes, whispering for me not to leave, tugging on the fabric of my pants as I bend over to stuff a container of hair gel into a compartment of the case.

"Now you see what I have to go through when you," I mutter mindlessly.
"Yeah, yeah," he mumbles. "So what are you giving me for New Years? A hot car, a motorcycle? Babies?"

"In your dreams Tre" I giggle, closing the lid.
"No babies?" he grins. "But I like babies"
"I'm not that great with kids as you can see." I mutter, alluding back to the allergy incident with Frankito.

"I bet you are!" Tre quips, now propping his head from off the bed. "You're gonna be a badass momma to my kids. Do you even want kids?" he asks, and rather dubiously.

"I dunno," I shrug. "If I ever get pregnant, then that's what happens, I'm not cool with abortions, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna like, hate my own kids, and—"
"What? No! I didn't mean that at all!" he interrupts
"I know you didn't, I'm just saying. And to be honest, right now, no, I don't want kids."
"That's fine" he smiles coolly.