Now or Never

by Hazel Ro

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

Two women are simply trying to make their way to the altar, sooner rather than later. So, will the best woman win the prize in the end? Or can their friendship outweigh their man troubles so that both end up finding love? Find out in Now or Never!

Thirty-seven-year-old Mya has been enjoying her single-but-dating life for the past five years. In fact, she’s practically created the perfect man for herself—through multiple partners. She has her young thug in Tyrone, her money-making corporate man in Charles, her understanding church boy in Will, and her sexually satisfying lover in Kevin. Mya’s had her fun over the years, but now she is ready to find true love and all those same qualities wrapped up in one man. 

Meanwhile, her administrative assistant, Alize, has a whole different type of dilemma. She and her boyfriend-slash-baby-daddy Anthony have been together for the past seven years with four children and no house, white picket fence, or wedding ring in sight. Although Alize loves him with all her heart, she is getting restless and beginning to feel like she can do better. 

The women's lives get turned upside down the day Carson Avery Reed fumbles his way onto their floor in their office building. He is everything that Mya could ever dream of in one man. However, Alize has her own plans for Carson. She can see herself finally dropping her dead-beat boyfriend and starting anew with the handsome beau.

Release date: May 21, 2024

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

Falling in love was starting to become such an unorthodox thing. Growing up, I always dreamed that my high school sweetheart, Michael, and I would marry right after graduating from college. I would have had my dream destination wedding, saying I Do to the only man I’d ever truly loved as our feet kissed the sand of the Virgin Islands. We would have had a weeklong, luxury honeymoon fit perfectly for a king and queen as we made love under the moonlit stars every . . . single . . . night. Then afterward, we would have lived in a mansion-like home, living our best lives in our dream careers while also partnering in a joint business, all while traveling the world and whatnot for at least a couple of years. And finally, we would have settled down and had a baby boy named Michael Junior and a baby girl named Miriam. We would have had the perfect life and love as one of Atlanta’s elite black power couples and families, all complete with a white picket fence and a dog named Max.

That was the way I thought things were supposed to be. At least, that was until I caught him behind the school’s football field with his pants down in the back seat of his black Mustang and the high school’s tramp, Tasha McMillan, sitting her bare-naked ass on top of his lap. I felt like I’d had an out-of-body experience that night as I smashed his foggy, sex-stained window with a brick while trying to climb through and strangle the bitch to death. The three of us ended up in the tussle of our lives until, out of nowhere, red and blue lights came flashing all around us, and officers threw each one of us to the ground, slapping handcuffs around our wrists. It took me forever to live down the humiliation of that night and the rejection I’d felt from the one person I thought would always be in my corner. Losing him had almost been unbearable for me. Yet, over time, I simply got over it; however, never forgetting. And as for Michael, all I’d gotten was an “I’m sorry. I never meant for you to find out this way,” as I remembered standing there looking like a deranged, lovesick girl while my heart shattered into a million little pieces.

After Michael decided against pressing any charges, he and Tasha, of course, had driven off into the sunset together as if I’d never existed. Later, I heard through a few of the neighborhood gossips that they later married each other and completed their family with a total of five children. Needless to say, I found out that after the fifth child, they’d divorced when Tasha caught him on top of his desk with his secretary. Karma was a real bitch for sure, and that was exactly the payback I felt she deserved for stealing the one and only person who I’d ever loved and desired to have a future with.

I guess one could say I actually dodged a bullet with Michael’s low-down, dirty, lying, cheating ass, but honestly, although I was well past it all, love still hadn’t been the same in my eyes ever since. True enough, I had a couple of relationships that lasted a year or more, and one even almost three. But they’d always somehow fizzled out either from hectic work-life schedules or simply losing interest in each other altogether. But no one at all had made my heart skip several beats the way Michael Washington had, not even the man that was on top of me at the moment, affectionately known as my number two.

Here I lay, eyes shut tight, body slippery from the dripping moisture between my body and this half-man, half-creature that was dicking me down and about to break my headboard in two. For anyone on the outside looking in, they would have sworn that we were experiencing the most magical and sensational moment that could possibly be shared by two individuals—true soul-tying, satisfying intimacy—yet still, in my mind, something was missing. The love I once shared with Michael Washington was missing.

Here this man was, thrusting all his pleasure and pain in and out of me in a rhythmic, slow-winding motion type of way. He was so deep inside of my body that I could almost swear I felt his manhood in the pit of my belly, but honestly, that was it. He had no idea what I was truly feeling inside of my mind, inside of my heart, or, more so, inside of my soul. What I really wanted, needed, and longed for ever since my senior year of high school could only be summed up in one word. Love. Instead, however, he’d mistaken the tears that were beginning to flow from my eyes as a sweet expression of my gratification instead of what they truly were—simple reminders of what I didn’t have with Michael and hadn’t experienced with any other man. My number two and I were so close at that very moment but still couldn’t have been further away from one another.

All at once, my mind traveled back to the very day that I’d come in contact with him. It was an average day for me, like any other day, except for having to go and get an oil change at my dealership directly after work. There I was, all dressed in my attorney attire: a black suit with a pencil skirt that fit my curves in all the right places, a white button-down blouse, and red bottom heels. I remembered, too, that I’d just gotten my hair done the day before, and my long, loose curls were still perfectly flowy and bouncy. I suspected that I could do some work while there because it normally took them at least an hour before my car was ready. So, with that in mind, I took my roller bag in, found a quiet space in the corner of the waiting room, and got to work. But then, after maybe ten minutes of being there, this god-like creature with all his muscles on display dressed in gray joggers and a wife beater came striding in. Being drawn to him was a mere understatement. My pussy got drenched in a matter of seconds, and I wanted to pounce on the man the second I laid eyes on him. The crazy thing about it was he was everything I was normally not attracted to. Although I liked his height and, of course, his physique, at that time, he had long dreads and wasn’t dressed in a tailor-made suit, which was my usual. In other words, he had more of a roughneck nature about him instead of the clean-cut, well-manicured type of man that I was attracted to. Yet, I was still intrigued.

Not being the type of woman to approach a man, since men had always approached me, I waited, just knowing that he would try to initiate some type of conversation. But there was nothing. I’d even gotten up a few times to walk past him to allow him to see all my ass walk away, but nothing. We’d even made eye contact at times; I was sure to soften the muscles in my face and smile at him, but still, nothing. It wasn’t until I saw the worker hand him his keys and he was about to leave that I decided to make some type of move. I gathered up all my things and acted as if I was leaving at the same time, and then it happened. Making it to the door at the exact same moment, he said, “Hey, ma,” and opened the door for me.

At first, I wasn’t totally sure if the Hey, ma was in reference to my age because I was sure I had a couple of years over him, but I quickly learned that was simply his nature. Once outside, I made up something quick in my head and asked if he knew where I could get some good barbeque. Immediately, I recalled the way he took his toothpick from his mouth and licked his lips before telling me the name of the spot. I said thanks, gave a little smirk, and told him I owed him one just to give a hint of interest, and boy, did he make sure I made good on my promise. After exchanging numbers, that night he stopped by and made certain I repaid him with not one, not two, or even three, but four orgasms for my little barbeque request. Needless to say, we’d been repaying one another in some of the best sexual gratification two could have since that day.

Now, at present, I tried to grip my legs around his waist as tight as I possibly could. I sank my nails into his back and pressed my face next to his while inhaling his scent of Versace Dylan Blue cologne and sweat all mixed together. Yet, there was still nothing. I was giving this man all of me, simply wanting to feel his love, but once again, what was happening could only be defined in three letters. S-E-X. And to tell the truth, I was beginning to be far beyond that. I’d had my share of wild, fun nights with no expectations of anything after twenty-four hours together. But now, I was at a point in my life where I needed far more than just good sex.

Well, wait a minute, let me take that back. With my number two, Kevin, it was more like incredible, mind-blowing, on-a-natural-high type of sex that left my legs trembling after multiple back-to-back orgasms. Yet now I needed that along with the feeling of being head over heels, completely in love. I wanted that special someone where our minds and souls connected on another level with one another—not just our bodies, and to be honest, Kevin just didn’t offer that. I mean, when it came down to physical looks and his sexual know-how, he was a woman’s dream. But beyond that, he didn’t offer anything else. He and I never conversed about anything that truly mattered—religion, politics, our backgrounds, or even future dreams and aspirations. Our relationship, if that was what it could be known as, was based solely off what we shared in the bedroom . . . or kitchen, or car, or wherever else we found ourselves indulging.

It wasn’t his fault, either. He’d told me from the day we met that he didn’t want anything serious. He said that because he wasn’t exactly where he wanted to be in life in order to settle down, he was just having fun. Initially, I was more than cool with it because I respected his honesty. Not to mention, the man was drop-dead fine. But that was all of two years ago, and nothing had changed the way I hoped it would. Plus, I was beginning to realize that I needed substance along with a good—no fantastic—dick-me-down session. I surely didn’t want to let all of this go, but I also wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep this up either.

As I drifted further in thought, I could feel it was almost time. His thrusting became faster, breathing and panting heavier—until . . . until . . .

“Kevin, stop . . . wait. Do you hear that?”

“No, baby. Hear what?” His strokes never stopped.

“That. Someone’s knocking at my door!”

“So what? Let them knock. They’ll go away.”

“No, it’s almost one in the morning, and I wasn’t expecting anyone. I have to see who this is.”

“Damn, woman. Right now?”

I sensed his instant displeasure with me as I pushed his body off mine, grabbed my silk robe, and wrapped it around me as I headed to the door. I had no clue who it could be, but they’d better have a damn good reason for banging on my door this time of the night.

The closer I got, the louder the banging was. I started to panic as I took hot sauce out of the closet next to the front door. Yeah, my Aunt Deidra and Beyoncé taught me well—always have protection nearby for anything or anyone unexpected. Standing there, my heart practically felt like it was about to jump completely out of my chest at any second, and I almost yelled for Kevin. At least, that was until I remembered the time some chick and a couple of her friends had followed him to my house. Part of me wondered if it was the same bold heffa that he promised me he was done with. If it was, I knew exactly what I was going to do this time around, so I decided to handle things on my own.

I tried to be as quiet as possible as I debated on whether I wanted to yank the door open or ask who it was first. Then I stood on my tippy toes to look out of the peephole and confirm my prior suspicions. But to my surprise, I laid eyes on some old lady dressed in her flowered nightgown, robe, bonnet, and pink house shoes.

Who in the hell? I thought to myself. She had to have the wrong house, so I left my bat in the corner behind the door and opened it, prepared to tell her just that.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but you—”

“Where the hell is he?” she yelled with a strong, deep, and forceful tone.

I looked at this woman like she was crazy, knowing good and well she couldn’t possibly be looking for Kevin. In an attempt to quiet her down so she wouldn’t wake up the rest of the damn neighborhood, I spoke softly.

“Ma’am, can you please lower your—”

“I’m not lowering a damn thing until you tell me where Tyrone is, and I know he’s in there. He thinks he’s going to run his tail over here with you every other night while he leaves his damn kids with me. Oh, hell no, I don’t think so. And you. Lady, you should be ashamed of your old self messing with a little twenty-five-year-old boy that can barely take care of himself or his kids. Hell, the boy doesn’t even have a job, let alone a pot to piss in. So, what do you want with him anyway? You know what? Don’t even answer that because I just know it’s something ungodly. But I’ll tell you one thing. Keep messing with him, and I promise, I’m going to send him and those kids right on over here with your ass.”

“Exactly how old are you, anyway, honey?” she had the nerve to ask in the middle of all her ranting while looking me up and down and barging her large-framed body into my home and glancing around. If I hadn’t been at a total loss for words, I would have been cussing by now, but this was what I got for giving my number to the little boy who worked at the gas station I frequent every morning. I only had him around because of the way he boosted my ego. He had a way of making me feel young and vibrant. He was my number four—my just in case one, two, or three didn’t work out—but now I knew for sure I had to cut him loose. Thank goodness I had only been intimate with him once. Or was it twice? Anyway, it seemed it was enough to get him hooked to where both he and his grandmother came showing up at my home unexpectedly.

The large old lady continued yelling at me and calling out for Tyrone, until Kevin came from the bedroom in the back with a towel wrapped around his waist. Her loudness stopped all at once, and I could have sworn I heard her sucking her teeth while she studied his muscular, dark-skinned physique that was still glistening with small beads of sweat. The old biddy looked mesmerized, to say the least, like she hadn’t seen a man’s body in the last twenty or thirty years as we both watched his towel hang on for dear life.

“Can we help you, ma’am?” Kevin asked in his baritone voice.

“Uh, uh, no, sir,” she said quickly while straightening up her whole act. “I thought my . . . you know what . . . never mind. I’m so sorry I disturbed you all.”

Just that second, we watched her walk out without another word. Then, without having a chance to gather my thoughts, Kevin looked at me with a million questions but still didn’t say a thing. He simply walked up close, loosened my robe, and let it fall to the floor. Then he dropped his towel and picked me up. Right away, he finished right there against the wall what we had started in the bedroom, and just that quick, I had forgotten all about love and substance, Michael and Tasha, or whatever other squibble-squabble I was thinking about in the back of my mind before Granny showed up. I needed a release after that chaos, and he was definitely the one to give it to me.

So, once again, love would have to wait. But I had already made up my mind—not for long. I wanted what I wanted, even if I had to make the sacrifice of being alone until it found me. With that in mind, I held on tight to his body and enjoyed the ride for what might be my last time with my number two.

The second I hopped into my white Range Rover and threw all of my belongings into the passenger seat, I glanced at the display on my dashboard to see exactly how much time I had to get through the morning traffic. A difference in even five minutes would tell me whether I could glide my way through on cruise control or weave in and out like a bat out of hell. Luckily, it was one of those mornings when I had enough time to cruise and possibly even stop by Starbucks for my caffeine fix. As exhausted as I felt from last night’s activities, sugar and caffeine were definitely a must. Not to mention, I was positive that my day would more than likely include some very eventful and dramatic storytelling by my best friend and co-worker, Alize. She and her children’s father, Anthony, always had some type of shenanigans going on that I had to brace myself for and be prepared whether I wanted to hear it or not.

As I made my way to the heavenly yet ungodly taste of the cinnamon roll Frappuccino, I connected my cell phone to my truck and turned on my Pandora station. It was right at the beginning of Jazmine Sullivan’s “Girl Like Me,” and I couldn’t help but sing my heart out as her lyrics reminded me once again of my breakup with Michael all those years ago. Like she said, I would have given whatever he asked, but chicks like Tasha McMillan kept winning.

You must’ve wanted somethin’ different. Still don’t know what I was missin’. What you asked I would’ve given. It ain’t right how these hoes be winnin’. Why they be winnin’? No hope for a girl like me. How come they be winnin’? And I ain’t wanna be, but you gon’ make a ho out of me.

I knew deep down that it was probably immature of me to feel the way I did, and Alize always told me that I was too old to still be whining, as she put it, over someone from high school. And truth be told, maybe she was right. But I still blamed him for my having to deal with four separate men to make one good one. I blamed him for the fact that I wasn’t a wife by now. And I especially blamed him for not being my happily ever after. So, if immaturity was the end result of all of that, then so be it, immature I was.

Thirty minutes later, I was pulling up to my office at New Horizons Family Law. After studying law in college, I became a divorce attorney for one of the major law firms here in Atlanta. How ironic was it that here I was in search of my happily ever after while assisting others in the demise of theirs? But it was the profession I’d chosen, so a girl had to do what she had to do.

Walking in, I went through my whole morning routine of saying hello to Milton, the firm’s doorman and security guard, chatting with Diane, the office’s front desk assistant, stopping by the café to toss my lunch in the refrigerator, and finally heading to the second floor where my office and Alize’s desk was. I hadn’t set my frappé down or made it behind my desk before Alize and her four children entered the office like a whole tsunami.

“Sit down right there on the floor, y’all, and cut out all the noise. Champagne, Hennessy, Moet, and Moscato, did you hear what I said? Quiet down,” she yelled, drowning out their chattering and crying and fussing with one another.

“Alize, what are the children doing here again? I thought we talked about this before, and I clearly said that this couldn’t be an all-the-time type of thing.”

“I’m sorry, Mya, but I had no other choice,” she explained as she pulled each child over to her and slapped a palm of Vaseline on their faces. “It’s all Anthony’s fault.”

I walked over to close the door to my office just in case any of the other partners came strolling down to the second floor. They had a habit of making their way down there sometime during the day, and I was sure it was only to see all of Alize’s curves stuffed in her fashionable, trendy, and very sexy daily attire. However, I couldn’t take a chance on them seeing the children there yet again. Although I knew that they respected me as an attorney, I wasn’t exactly sure that they had that same respect for Alize, my executive assistant and friend. She was a bit rough around the edges, to say the least. She stood about five-foot-six and had a very curvaceous body, with her breasts, hips, and buttocks being well-defined and everything else falling in all the right places. In fact, there was no way anyone who didn’t know her would think that she had four small children. Her skin was a dark, buttery and silky brown complexion. Her natural coils were beautifully voluminous and bold, but no one would ever know it from the various wigs she wore, which this week seemed to be the long and straight platinum blonde one. And her eyes, which in my opinion were her prettiest feature, were big, bold, and very intriguing. They appeared to be as innocent as a child’s laughter. Well, that is when they weren’t all weighed down with heavy and lengthy false lashes. She had a small, pudgy type of nose and full, plump lips that rounded out her face. I always told her that she didn’t need all the extra and that her natural beauty was more than enough, but she was simply the type of woman who loved her lashes, long nails, and lace front wigs with homemade baby hairs, and no one was going to tell her any different—especially not me, who was more of a plain Jane. Besides, her outward appearance was all a part of her big and bold personality that she tried so hard to portray. However, I knew the real Alize behind all the glitz and glam.

She and I met when I first graduated from college and moved to Atlanta. We were customer service reps for a company that we both despised. She was a bit over the top, and I really didn’t see us being anything more than coworkers, but somehow, we had grown to be the closest of friends. In fact, I promised her that when I got my own firm, she would definitely come and work for me. So, it was a no-brainer when the previous administrative assistant left and the position became available. And in return, she promised that I would have an ongoing discount at the clothing store she dreamt of opening one day.

Slowly but surely, I came to find ou. . .