Buggin': A Brother's Tale

By Don Taylor

Buggin : A Brothers Tale, focuses on Jerome Mitchell, a college professor in Charlotte, NC, who finds himself one third of a triangle including Yolanda Walker and Bernard Fox; a triangle of narcissism, obsession and passion.

Beginning with Jeromes divorce from his wife of 12 years, the story catapults he, Yolanda and Bernard toward a confrontation on the battlefield of love, longing and desire. Jerome struggles with understanding his place in a world hes been away from for over 12 years. Through trial and error, Jerome picks his way, never knowing how close he is to a war he cant win.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496927316

Don Taylor

Don Taylor is an Assistant Professor at Johnson & Wales University: Charlotte Campus. He has previously published S.E.E.D.:Self Esteem and Expression Development for African-American Adolescents, used in group work with young men and women. Prior to his work as a college professor, Don worked as a Human Services Professional focusing on marriage and family and family violence issues. He lives in Charlotte, NC with his wife, Vicki who is a life coach for women in transition and an adjunct professor in English and Psychology.

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© 2014 Don Taylor. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/23/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-2732-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-2731-6 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

XXI

XXII

XXIII

XXIV

XXV

XXVI

XXVII

XXVIII

XXIX

XXX

XXXI

XXXII

BUGGIN’: (Noun or Verb) A state of mind or series of behaviors which confirm one is not thinking or acting in ways which could be considered rational by others, either in one’s circle of friends or the society at large.

I

I glanced at the clock on the wall behind the judge’s bench. It indicated I had only been here for fifteen or twenty minutes, but I felt as if I had been sitting for hours. Ready or not, I was about to begin the final act of this play. The bailiff’s raspy voice confirmed this current reality. This was not a play. This was real. This part of my life’s drama was hurtling toward a conclusion.

All rise!

Standing, I checked out the courtroom. I noticed it did look somewhat like the ones I’ve seen on TV. All seats, as well as the judge’s bench were stained a light mahogany color. I wondered who came up with that decorating plan.

A plain, thin woman with thick dark hair mixed with gray strands wearing a simple navy suit and what looked like a silk blouse, sat in an area that looked like a hockey penalty box next to the judge’s bench in front of a small machine, her fingers poised over the keys. Thinking back to my favorite Perry Mason shows, I figured she was the court reporter. The one who read back witness statements just before Perry went in for the kill.

The seats in the courtroom were mostly empty. My brother, Robert, an Atlanta attorney, sat on the back row as an observer of the process and a support to me. Up front, in the corner near the door where I supposed the judge would enter, were a few deputy sheriffs talking in hushed tones to each other. A few other people were scattered throughout the room talking quietly.

The Judge, a white female, entered with a flourish. Her gowns rustled as she moved. After ascending the steps to the bench, she stood surveying the courtroom. The deputy sheriff’s conversation along with other conversations in the room, ceased in mid-sentence.

The Judge appeared to be in her early sixties. Her hair was a little too blond, I thought. I also guessed she used a whole can of hair spray to keep the intricate; but aging style in place. She appeared to be rather short; but hefty.

I thought about one of my friends who used to use the term that seemed appropriate to describe her; a four by four. In other words, four feet tall and four feet wide.

Standing next to my attorney, John Stiles, Esq., I adjusted my tie and smoothed my blue, double-breasted jacket. I peered at the table just a few feet away, where my soon to be ex-wife and her attorney with the movie star good looks stood. Both were wearing gray suits. Akeba’s knee length skirt fit her perfectly.

Shit, I bet he picked out the suit he has on just to match Akeba’s, I thought slowly shaking my head. As much as I hated to admit it, they looked almost like a couple standing there facing Judge Morris.

Akeba’s jaw was set, her eyes firmly locked on the Judge. I noticed her attorney, Mr. Q’vin (pronounced Kevin) Lattimore, Esq. holding her arm. Q’vin. Damn, I bet his name really is Kevin. I’m sure he changed the spelling of his name to be some bullshit legal-eagle player.

Why does he need to touch her like that? I wondered. Hell, I guess I could have answered my own question. Akeba was only minutes away from returning to single-hood and her attorney was probably trying to move in. I had heard about divorce attorneys making a move on their vulnerable female clients and I was sure this pretty bastard was one of them.

She’s still my wife, I thought to myself as I tried to look at them, without looking.

Without a word, the Judge sat and busied herself with papers on her desk.

Be seated and come to order, the Honorable Sarah Morris presiding! the bailiff barked. Absently I sat, still trying to notice if pretty ass Q’vin was hitting on Akeba.

He and Akeba had their heads together. As he whispered to her, she nodded tightly a couple times. Q’vin looked over Akeba’s shoulder right at me. I could have sworn he smiled at me.

Punk, I thought to myself. That bastard is hitting on Akeba. I glanced back at Robert. He gave me a faint smile.

Since Akeba and Q’vin were whispering, I thought it might be a good idea to whisper about something to my attorney, so we could look like we had some strategy to discuss. I poked Attorney John Stiles gently on the arm with my elbow. He moved his head toward me.

Attorney Stiles’ thinning brown hair was brushed across his head. His reading glasses were perched on the end of his nose. His short, stubby fingers were stretched out against the files piled in front of him.

What’s up? he whispered, flatly.

Uh, you think this judge will do what we asked? I whispered back.

Well, like I told you, we’ve done all the necessary prelim work. Your wife’s attorney, Mr. Lattimore, Attorney Stiles glanced at Akeba’s table, has agreed to mostly everything, the rest will be a formality. I nodded.

Anything else? he asked.

Uh, no.

It was time to end this conversation. Stiles’ stale cigarette breath was irritating. I reached in my pocket, took out a packaged mint and slid it toward him. I didn’t look at him, directly, but out the corner of my eye I saw him look quizzically, first at the mint, then at me. Without a word, he opened the cellophane package and popped the mint in his mouth. He reached out and squeezed my forearm.

I balled my hands up. My fingers felt cold, but the room wasn’t cold. I had to remind myself to breathe. I could feel myself holding my breath. Damn, this is crazy. I wished the judge would just begin and get this over with.

Mr. Mitchell?

Attorney Stiles elbowed me. He indicated with his head I was to look at the Judge.

Yes, your Honor?

Mr. Mitchell, Mrs. Mitchell, do either of you have anything you’d like to say before I end this? I looked up at the bench. Judge Morris’ voice was soft; but firm. It was clear that she knew she was in command. Absolutely no-nonsense.

I shook my head, slowly. No, I had nothing to say. I blew it. Just buggin’. I should have known better. Eleven years, gone…just like that; well actually twelve if I counted the North Carolina requisite one-year of separation. Wow! A whole year of separation. I briefly closed my eyes as this realization washed over me.

No, your Honor, I said, I hoped convincingly.

I followed the Judge’s eyes as she looked at the table where Akeba and her attorney stood. Akeba’s head never moved in my direction. She continued to look up at the judge. Mr. Lattimore put his hand on her back as if to steady her. After taking a deep breath, she spoke solemnly, No, your honor.

Fair enough, the Judge said with gravity. She put round wire rim glasses on her round face. For a brief moment, I almost smiled in spite of myself. She looked just like the pictures of Mrs. Santa Claus.

You can all be seated. We all sat.

My stomach felt like it was doing back flips. My head began to dully ache and my fingers seemed to get colder. I really wanted to get out of this courtroom.

The Judge asked a few questions.

Mr. Mitchell, are you claiming ownership of the artwork?

Mrs. Mitchell, you are satisfied with the amount written for child support?

Mr. Mitchell, the visitation plan recorded here is satisfactory to you?

Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell, are you on one accord regarding the termination of this marriage?

Judge Morris asked looking alternately at both of us and removed her glasses. I could feel the end coming.

Then, it was over. Based on me and Akeba’s answers and the statements by our attorneys, Judge Morris approved most of the items we had discussed then quickly dispatched the areas in dispute. She banged her gavel. We all stood as ordered by the bailiff while Judge Morris exited the courtroom by the door she entered. I stole another look at the clock. It was eleven o’clock exactly.

On Tuesday, October 24, 1995 the marriage of Akeba and Jerome Mitchell, ended.

I studied my attorney as he began loading files and papers in his briefcase. I wondered if I should have gotten a female attorney. Not for any specific reason other than to give Akeba something to think about. Am I screwed up or what?

Man, my headache was really gathering steam. Once Stiles finished filling his overstuffed briefcase, he turned toward me and shook my hand.

I’m sorry about your marriage, but this went as well as it could, he said, releasing his hand from mine, then squeezing my shoulder.

I stared off into the air over his head before responding. Thanks for all your help, Mr. Stiles. Your expertise made this as simple as I guess it could have been. You’ll send me the bill as we discussed?

Attorney Stiles smiled. You can count on that, Mr. Mitchell.

Mr. Stiles, the case is over. You can call me Jerome, now.

I’ll do that after I get your check, Mr. Mitchell. He laughed, covering his mouth with his fist. Well, I have to go to another courtroom. Have a good day and get some rest, Jerome. You look worn out.

Ok, John. Thanks.

Attorney Stiles took off down the aisle toward the exit. He stopped to talk with another man at the door then the two of them left the courtroom together.

Watching Akeba and her attorney talking quietly to each other at their table, I again wondered why I didn’t get a woman to represent me. I thought her attorney was leaning too close to her, so I decided to walk over to their table. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, but I figured that would come to me once I got there.

Akeba, I’m so sorry it came to this. I really loved you; in fact, I still do… Before I could finish, Akeba raised her hand and looked pointedly at me.

Jerome, I know you did, once, but you…well never mind. This conversation would be pointless right now. Look, I’m gonna go home. Call me tomorrow so we can schedule your visits with Dani, ok?

Sure Akeba, sure.

I had almost forgotten how beautifully Akeba’s almond brown skin glowed. Her thick, shiny black hair was pulled back and french rolled. I wanted to reach out, grab her and kiss her real hard, right in the courtroom. She stepped away from the table into the aisle. She looked at me with those piercing, sexy brown eyes that were beginning to moisten. Then she glanced at her attorney.

Q’vin Lattimore looked back at her, slid his brown leather briefcase off the smooth mahogany table and nodded his head in my direction. When I didn’t respond, he turned to follow Akeba, who stiffly walked toward the exit. Once there, he pushed open the door for Akeba. He turned to look at me, his expression hinting at an unstated thought then strolled out of the courtroom.

I should punch that pretty mutha out, I said to my brother, Robert who seemed to materialize next to me. See, Robert. I knew her attorney was gonna hit on her as soon as this was over. I mean, look at him. You know he purposely wore that suit so they could match.

Robert put his arm around my shoulder. Calm down, Jerome. You aren’t going to do anything. You might as well come on with me, have some coffee, get something to eat.

Akeba looked good, didn’t she, Robert?

Yeah, she did, Robert said following my gaze. He turned back to me.

I’m sorry about all this, little brother.

Thanks, Robert. This whole thing is so fucked up, but hell I’m glad you were here, though. Together, we walked out of the courtroom, through the side door toward the parking lot.

II

O nce the case ended, Akeba left the courtroom with Q’vin walking quickly behind her. He pulled a large black phone out of his bag as he walked. He nudged Akeba, who stopped and leaned against the wall, waiting. From time to time, she glanced back at the courtroom, and peered down the hall. After making his call, he put the phone back in his bag and walked with her to the exit door.

Q’vin pushed open the door and Akeba stepped out into the warm October day. The warmth calmed her. She dabbed at her eyes with a finger, took a deep cleansing breath and walked toward the street.

Hey, hey, hey! Q’vin called to her as he rushed out of the building. Hold up, Akeba, he said just before he caught up with her.

He lit a cigarette and watched her as she watched him. Akeba marveled at how little movement he wasted. She had to admit Cynthia was right. He was by far the coolest man, not to mention the best looking man she had seen in quite some time. Though she had made every effort to keep their relationship strictly professional, from time to time, she had allowed herself to wonder what type of lover Q’vin Lattimore might be.

Probably a selfish, arrogant lover, she thought to herself. I’ve heard it said gorgeous men usually are, she thought.

We have to go back to the office to clear up some paperwork, Q’vin said as he slowly exhaled the blue smoke. His voice forced her to concentrate on him.

I know, Mr. Lattimore. But can’t we hurry? I don’t want to be out here when my ex comes out with his brother.

First of all, you need to call me Q’vin. The case is over and we don’t have to be so formal. Is that ok with you? Akeba slowly nodded. Can I call you, Akeba, now? Again, she nodded.

As for your ex, don’t sweat it, Akeba. Q’vin moved closer to her. I saw them leave through the side door headed toward the parking lot. Besides, my man is coming with his cab to chauffeur us back to my office. Akeba took a deep breath and tried to relax. Just then a horn tooted close to them.

That’s my man, Louis, Q’vin said as he ushered her to the curb.

Akeba looked at the shiny, blue cab emblazoned with the name Southeast Royal Cab Company on it. The driver hopped out, ran around the front of the car and opened the passenger side rear door for her.

Thank you, she said as she got in. As Louis closed the door, Akeba noticed he and Q’vin exchanging a warm handshake. Louis and Q’vin went to the other side of the car. Louis got in the front behind the wheel and Q’vin got in the back next to Akeba.

Akeba looked around. This has got to be the cleanest cab in Charlotte, she said to no one in particular.

Well, to be honest, I think I own the cleanest cab in North Carolina, Louis responded, with obvious pride.

That’s for sure, Q’vin added. My man Louis keeps the inside and outside spotless.

It smells good in here, Akeba said. I’d like to have this fragrance in my car. What is it?

Louis pulled out from the curb. Y’all headed to your office, Q? He looked in the rearview mirror. Q’vin nodded. Well to answer your question, ma’am…

Oh please don’t call me ma’am. My name is Akeba."

"Ok, uh, Akeba. The fragrance is my own concoction. I mix African Violet with Jasmine, a hint of spice and I spray it in the carpet, front and back.

Very nice, she said, laying her head back against the soft fabric

You alright, Akeba? Q’vin asked, touching her shoulder.

You mean aside from ending my marriage today?

Yeah, aside from that.

Akeba looked out of her window. Though lost in her thoughts, Akeba felt Q’vin’s hand on her arm. His soft squeeze felt good. At first she wasn’t sure how to respond to his touch so, she decided not to.

Relax girl, she told herself. She forced herself to sit still. She took deep breaths and kept her eyes focused out the window.

Her daughter’s face came into her mind and she felt slightly panicked about how she would talk with her about she and her father’s divorce.

Akeba stiffened when Q’vin touched her fingers. He rubbed the tip of his finger over her nails. For a moment, Akeba allowed herself to look down at his fingers as they traced hers. His nails were obviously well taken care of and she thought she detected some clear polish on them. She wasn’t sure, nor was she sure how she felt about a man who wore nail polish, regardless of how good he looked.

But his touch felt good. Akeba turned again to look out of her window. She saw only blurry images. She found it difficult to focus. She wondered if it were Q’vin’s insistent touch or the lingering shock from the divorce proceedings.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Q’vin’s eyes seemed locked on her legs where they extended from under her skirt.

No, he won’t, she thought to herself.

Just then, Q’vin’s hand moved from her fingers to her leg just beyond the hem of her skirt. The heat from his hand on her leg felt like a mini-sun, probing through her hose, spreading through her thigh. The warmth broke her out of her reverie. She looked at him, her mood darkening.

Q’vin, what are you doing?

Just trying to relax you, Akeba. His words sounded practiced. I know this has been a tough morning for you but I want you to know that I’m gonna be right here for you.

Q’vin stop, Akeba said.

What’s the matter, Akeba? Q’vin asked, his expression all innocence.

Like I said, I’m only trying to help you relax. I thought you liked my touch.

Q’vin, I appreciate your concern, but touching my leg moves you from providing comfort to exploitation. She took his hand off her leg and moved it to his lap, accidentally touching his burgeoning erection. Now she felt herself becoming surly.

Mr. Lattimore, you’re my attorney and I do appreciate what you did; but right now, you don’t have permission to touch me like that, she said, looking him directly in the eye. Her voice was brittle.

You said ‘right now.’ Are you suggesting that at some point, I might have permission to touch your leg? Q’vin asked with a hopeful smile.

Mr. Lattimore, she said, her eyes flashing, do you really think this is the kind of conversation we should have? We just left a courtroom where my divorce was finalized. Is this really what you want to talk about? You can’t possibly be that self-absorbed.

Angrily, she looked out the window of the cab. She instantly knew that they were not anywhere near Q’vin’s office. A momentary wave of fear ran through her. She put her hand on her chest to calm herself and turned in her seat to face Q’vin.

What’s going on? She asked tensely. And why are we way out here instead of at your office?" She looked into the rear view mirror. Louis was looking at her. She leaned forward.

And you need to keep your eyes on the road and get us to Mr. Lattimore’s office, right now.

Yes ma’am, uh Akeba, Louis said, sheepishly.

No, you were right the first time. Call me Ma’am, Akeba said shortly. He nodded and turned his attention to driving.

Sister Mitchell, calm down. I’ve found that a drive after such a traumatic experience usually helps my clients relax, Q’vin said as soothingly as he could.

Yeah, right, Akeba said frostily. Get on your side of the car, ok? she said. The scenery was becoming more familiar and she calmed a little. She looked out the front window and noticed that they were pulling into the parking lot of the building where Q’vin’s office was located.

Louis, that’s my car over there, Akeba said pointing. Louis nodded, stopped the car and looked in the rearview at Q’vin.

Why are you looking at him, Louis? Akeba asked raising her voice. Aww, the heck with this. She pushed open her car door and got out. Q’vin quickly followed her.

Akeba, wait. What’s wrong?

Akeba found her keys and opened her car door, turned and leaned against the open door as Q’vin approached her. She noted the cab parked a respectful distance away.

Akeba, what did I do that was so wrong?

She stood straight up as he stood right in front of her. His caramel colored skin glistened in the light. His sideburns were perfectly trimmed as was his short jet-black hair. His white teeth shined and the dimple in his chin reminded her of some wicked thoughts she has had about him. And that gray suit? It fit him like it was made only for him. She gathered herself to say what she was thinking.

Frankly, I resent feeling like I’m some stupid bimbo you think you can make out with in the back seat of a taxi cab.

Akeba, it wasn’t like that, Q’vin said reaching for her.

She shrugged her arm away from his grasp.

Well, that’s what it felt like and Louis looked like he was enjoying some dime peep show. She got in the car, slammed the door and rolled down the window as she started her car.

And on the day of my divorce, she said through clenched teeth.

What about the papers you need to sign?

She took a deep breath and looked up at Q’vin whose face was framed by the window.

Mail them to me and I’ll mail them back. Now step back so I can go. I need a bath and some alone time.

Q’vin stepped back and Akeba moved her car away. She was determined not to look at him again, but she couldn’t help it. She stole a glance in her rearview mirror. She saw his hand go up in a wave. She ignored it, pulled into traffic and headed home. While driving, she thought how she was going to tell Cynthia about what just happened.

Yep, they were right, she said out loud, arrogant and selfish.

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A couple hours after leaving the courtroom, I was sitting in my apartment with Billy my life-long friend and my brother Robert. A western movie was on the TV, but I couldn’t concentrate on it.

Come on, Rome. Why don’t you ride with us and get some air. You don’t need to just sit in the house, Robert said with concern as he turned the TV off.

Man, I was watching that, Billy whined.

This ain’t about you, Billy. Besides, you can watch an old western anytime.

"For your information, that was 100 Rifles with Jim Brown and Raquel Welch. That was one of the best westerns ever made, man!"

Ignoring Billy, I responded to Robert, No, I think I’ll just stay here and chill. You two go ahead. Robert, I know you said you wanted to see some folks while you were here.

Rome, you sure you want to be alone? Robert said quietly.

I nodded in response.

I’m not gonna leave until tomorrow morning, Robert continued. So, I’ll be back in a couple hours, ok? Page me if you need anything before then.

You want me to stay, Rome? Billy asked

Nah. That’s ok. I just want to be alone.

I stood as Robert and Billy headed toward the door. I watched as my brother and Billy walked to Robert’s white BMW.

Billy stopped and quickly paced back to me. "Hey man, that Jim Brown movie was on AMC in case you’re interested."

Thanks, Billy. We shook hands.

Much love, Rome, Billy said with sincerity.

Thanks, man. Now go and let me chill out.

Right. I’m out, Rome. Call if you need me.

Billy rushed back