Reggie's Girl Ch. 09

Chapter 9

Jasmine had never intended to come to the funeral service. She hadn't known Tony Reyes, Cricket, as his friends called him. But she found herself attending the service, and shortly before that the wake at the family's home.

Ted had known him. Xavier had been friends with him. Reggie had by all accounts been extremely fond of him. Cricket was important to them, and so he became important to her.

Reggie, however, had not come with them.

She had seen little enough of him since he'd come to pick her from his mom's house. From the stricken look about his eyes, she knew it had been bad news.

Reggie was not one she associated with heavy silences so to walk into his house when he was in it these days was disturbing. No kiss and hug. Not even a yelled "Hey, love!" from the next room.

Jasmine didn't think he consciously set out to create a distance between them. He just tended to sort of zone out; sometimes she could be right next to him and have to call his name more than once to rouse him out of his thoughts.

Though he never told her so - he said damn little to her anymore - she knew he must be struggling with guilt. Or not struggling at all: he'd simply succumbed to it without a fight.

It was ironic that there was no slew of guests and phonecalls this time around, when he really was in mourning. But perhaps less was more. She hoped like hell it was anyway.

The whole service passed in a blur while she thought about Reggie. It was Ted, touching her shoulder, who alerted her to the fact that it was time to leave. Once outside, they found no sign of Xavier. Since they'd come together, Ted decided to go back inside and look for him.

Jasmine looked up as she rubbed her arms in the chilly breeze. There were no ominous clouds, though. It was just a sunny day with a cold wind. Funny how you couldn't get warm on such a nice day.

"Excuse me? Miss? Excuse me!"

The crunch of gravel under hurrying feet made Jasmine turn around. Her face went blank when she saw the tiny Dominican woman pressing through the crush of bodies. She was dressed in black literally from head to toe as a black veil covered her salt-and-pepper hair.

Silvia Reyes, Cricket's mother, walked straight up to Jasmine, a distracted frown between her brows. Her hands shook as she reached for both of Jasmine's, taking hold of them with a firm squeeze.

"Mrs. Reyes," Jasmine murmured, "please accept my sincerest condolences for your loss. I can't imagine what you must-"

"Did you know my boy?" Silvia Reyes interrupted, and Jasmine was momentarily speechless.

"Well, no," she was forced to admit, "but-"

"I know, I know. He sent X, too. But enough of this! You go back and tell Reggie that I want to see him - him, personally!"

In her agitation her voice had a ringing quality. People stopped and stared, no doubt wondering if the grieving mother was in the middle of a quarrel with Jasmine.

If she was under the impression that Reggie had sent her Jasmine would not correct her. The last thing she wanted to risk was antagonizing her.

"Of course," Jasmine said, with a deferential bow of her head.

Silvia Reyes stared at her for a wordless minute. Then her face twisted in a spasm of pure pain. Tears filled her eyes.

Her hands squeezed Jasmine's again when she began to profusely apologize. "No, no, it's not you," she wheezed, shaking her graying head.

A man appeared at her side, muttering soothingly in Spanish. He wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, threw Jasmine a suspicious glare then offered to drive the older woman home now. She lifted a hand to stay him, her wet eyes never leaving Jasmine.

"You've done nothing you need to apologize for," she said with a somewhat calmer voice. "It's just that... I know why Reggie sent you. And it's not- it's not right..."

Jasmine couldn't make any promises on Reggie's behalf. In this matter, only he knew what he intended. But neither could she leave the bereaved woman high and dry.

"I'll talk to him, Mrs. Reyes," she averred, and that seemed to placate her somewhat. Still weeping, Silvia allowed herself to be led away, leaving Jasmine to ponder her next move.

* * *

The old timer polishing the bar let out a low whistle as Reggie held his head in his hands. "That's heavy, boy," Stacy Jones commiserated, sucking his sparse teeth.

"Heavy? It's fuckin' impossible, Stacy, I'on' know what I'm gonna do." Reggie gripped his beer by the slender bottleneck and drank. He shook his head in disgust. "And the worst part is, I've been here before. With ol' Theo. Only he did a better job protecting me than I did for Cricket."

Stacy paused his polishing, throwing the rag over his beefy shoulder as he braced both hands against the bar. "That was different," he lectured sternly. "Ever tried countin' the bodies Theo dropped? You cain't!"

He shook his head firmly. "Leave Theo where is. He where he belong now, and you-"

"And I let this kid down. Period!"

The grizzled old man sighed. "Now, dammit, listen here..."

"Let's be real, Stace: you and I could talk shit about Theo all day but he still took a bullet for me."

"Least he could do," Stacy muttered under his breath. Reggie ignored that.

"And when some punk was sending shots this kid's way, where was I?"

"I'on' know, Reggie," the elder said somewhat facetiously. "Where were you? Saving the homeless? Spoon-feedin' sick orphans?"

Actually, he'd been doing some online window shopping with Jasmine in mind. He'd just stumbled across an option he'd thought was pretty perfect when her call had interrupted him.

"You weren't cut out for a life on the streets, boy!" Stacy fumed at him, suddenly angry. "Theo was, and I betcha that's why he was there that night. Whether you were there or not, them boys who shot at you was gonna end up dead anyways. Huh. Cain't tell me otherwise."

"Look I know, I know all about the man's sins, alright? But I meant to take the one good thing he did for me and pay it forward, you know?"

"And you did!" Stacy was incredulous. "Theo's boy alive 'cause of you, ain't he?"

"We talking 'bout Cricket-"

"Well, maybe we done talked enough about Cricket! Now, I ain't sayin' it was his time to go. But he gone, Reggie. Bringin' him back to life ain't something God put on you, and that's just something you gon' have to deal with."

"How? Hm? How exactly am I gonna do that?" Reggie demanded.

"By doing what you been doing," Stacy advised in a gentle tone Reggie had never heard from him before. "You got a gift, boy. You got love for the people in your life and they know it, too; 'cause you know how to love. Keep on lovin' 'em. Keep showing these youngins that it ain't no weakness."

He spread his gnarled hands. "I didn't learn till I was old, see? And now I'm lookin' at my own funeral, and how it's gonna be, what, five folks there that ain't family?"

Reggie lowered his gaze as the old man impatiently wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Folks my age, we'll brag about how we hard as a muhfucka. And we are. But what we won't say is, a lot of us, we by ourselves, too - and we fuckin' hate it."

In a swift move that belied his age, Stacy ripped the rag off his shoulder and snapped Reggie's arm with it. "Ow!"

"That's to wake you up," he growled. "Now get your ass on outta here. Your kind ain't posta be walkin' the streets this late, college boy. Ain't posta be drinkin' in no shifty dive neither."

"Oh, you know all about 'my kind' now, huh?" Reggie glowered at him as he swigged the last of his beer.

"Maybe not!" Stacy grinned. "But I know enough 'bout women to know you in serious trouble."

It was no surprise Stacy knew he had a woman under his roof. But it was irritating nonetheless. He was ostensibly offering her sanctuary. How safe would she feel if she found out that a dude in a dive bar in Brooklyn knew she lived there?

Reggie sighed. Nonetheless he had a point. Stacy usually did. "Stay safe, Mr. Jones," he bade as he rose to his feet.

"I always do."

As Stacy had foreseen, Jasmine was still up when he got home just after three o'clock. Not scrolling on her phone, not watching TV but waiting in alert silence. The expression on her pretty face was worried, though, not furious. He'd never come home this late while she was staying here.

"You should be asleep," Reggie said with an apologetic smile. "I don't like you waiting up for me, girl. I thought I told you."

"You did, but... well..."

Right. The elephant in the room.

"I know I haven't handled Cricket's passing too well," he began as he shrugged off his vintage Karl Kani leather jacket, a memento from his first legit paycheck years ago.

"That's not what- Reggie, nobody could blame you for, what, grieving wrong? That's not even a thing!" She sounded distressed.

Man, he was doing a terrific job looking after her, wasn't he?

"I know that's not what you're saying." He came over and sat beside her on the couch. "And I know I haven't said it, much less shown it, but I have been noticing all the little things you've been doing for me. Making sure I'm eating right, giving me space, keeping me from drinking more than you'd like-"

"You noticed that?" She seemed surprised by that last one. He only smiled.

"I've never had so much fruit juice in my system. But I do like the white hot chocolate with mint, though. It really does do a better job warming me up."

"You see? I told you it works better!" She was smiling now, looking pleased and a little relieved - but still watchful.

"I know you've been doing your best to take care of me while I deal with this," Reggie said, brushing a long strawberry-shaded strand off her face. "And I appreciate it. I really do."

Something really nice she'd taken to doing was sleeping in his bed. It had been such a pleasant surprise the first night he'd come home and found her there, that he'd left the bedside light on and, with her gentle scent all around him, dozed off as he watched her sleep.

The second night he'd been in a less romantic mood: more on less on sight, he'd proceeded to wake and take her.

Still, they hadn't been making love like before. Neither of them had initiated sex since, and there had been a considerable dry spell before that. At least he still had her close to him these nights - but it was past time they rekindled the old blazing heat between them.

Tonight was as good a time as any.

Much later, when they were both satiated and drowsy, a clinging Jasmine, still not ready to let him go, was begging him to leave it in.

"Please, sir, just a little l-"

Reggie hushed her with a hard kiss and withdrew. She moaned in chagrin but finally loosened her legs from around his waist and let him leave her body.

He'd fuck her again in the morning, he promised himself. And tomorrow night, too. Right now, though, he just needed sleep.

But he had not considered just how much he'd spoiled her. His angel was used to four or five orgasms a night at least - and he'd taught her to love putting on a sexy show for him, when she wanted to get fucked that much sooner. So he probably shouldn't have been surprised when he awoke in the morning to find her already awake and obviously aroused.

Jasmine lay cupping her heaving breasts, thumbing the erect peaks while she moaned softly. Her eyes were closed. A crease appeared between her brows. She kept biting her lip as if to keep herself quiet.

She wasn't doing this for him, Reggie realized in a flash of amazement. She didn't even know he was awake yet.

But Jasmine never masturbated just to please herself. She'd told him so herself. Something about being too disconnected from her body.

Well, she was pretty damn in touch with her body now! And though his hard-on reared up with painful alacrity, he didn't jump in just yet. He wanted to join her, help her, but something told him to hold off.

He swallowed hard as he stared at her blushing breasts, observed her fingers squeeze the tips, watched her sweet lips part on a quiet whimper.

Lord! Only Jasmine could make him this horny, then make him too curious to follow through.

One trembling hand strayed downwards, cupped her soft mound. She massaged it a little but apparently that didn't give her the relief she sought. Slowly she inserted her middle finger into herself then pulled it out, glistening and fragrant, and used the slick tip to roll her clit.

Her whole body shivered violently at the wet touch. A strangled sound escaped her compressed lips. She touched herself some more, settled on a slow circular motion. Reggie knew she was on her way.

She finished moments later with a high little sound, her fingertip pressing down on her clit. Her breath came fast and shallow as she very, very slowly wound down.

To his surprise she then began to laugh. Just a quiet giggle but she was definitely laughing.

It was at this point that Reggie decided to break his silence. This was all too intriguing. "Aren't we pleased with ourselves this morning."

Jasmine didn't open her eyes but turned to him, her face in his chest as her inexplicable mirth continued. He chuckled himself and didn't even know why. He kissed the top of her head.

"I am," she sighed when her laughter finally slowed. "And after doing something wrong, too."

He snorted. "Nothing wrong with rubbing one out, girl. Whether it's for my pleasure or for yours alone."

She nodded, then looked up at him with a smile. There was a certain serenity in her eyes he didn't believe had seen there before. He knew she hadn't looked at him like this when he'd made her come!

And here he thought he had no competition, he mused before focusing up. Something was up with his girl.

"I know that, sir," Jasmine said softly. "I do now. But that's not what I was referring to."

Reggie tilted his head slightly in mute question.

"I kept something from you," she said, her voice steady. Her eyes flitted away, returned to his almost immediately. "I was given a message to pass on to you. Mrs. Reyes, she asked, no, she demanded to see you. She looked really upset about it. But at the time, you looked to be in a pretty grim place yourself, so I just never told you."

In spite of himself, Reggie felt rocked by her confession. He managed to keep it out of his voice, though, when he asked after a moment, "When was this?"

"Cricket's funeral. Mrs. Reyes... she literally chased after me to tell me."

A whole month ago. While he'd been too cowardly, too ashamed to show his face anywhere near Silvia or the rest of Cricket's family. Jasmine had noticed it, too, and tried to protect him during that time. He could kiss her for it, but first he had to take responsibility for his actions - and inaction.

"I always knew I'd have to face the music sometime. You did nothing wrong. It was always clear I needed to make things right with Cricket's people, message or not."

"But you haven't yet. Have you?" she asked softly.

Reggie swallowed and looked out of the sunlit window. He shook his head. "No." He barely heard his voice.

Jasmine cupped his cheek. Before he could stop himself, he turned his face into her palm as if to hide from his disgrace.

"How are you, Reg?" Her soft voice carried so much caring, such willingness to be heartbroken by his answer that he straightened at once.

"Better," he said shortly but truthfully. He made a point of making eye contact. "And honestly, I didn't mean to feel any better, but... well. With you around, I didn't really have much of a choice."

She smiled at that, almost bashfully. Then she said, "You're not the only one who's been doing better."

"Hmm." Reggie welcomed the subject change to her own business. "Is that a fact?"

"It's kinda weird, I'll admit, considering Cricket's killers still haven't been caught and we're all on edge about they'll do next. But it's true. Something about this situation... it gave me a change of perspective."

"Do tell."

"It started with this secret, I guess. All this time, I've been thinking how I absolutely had to take it to the grave. It sounds so dramatic, but that's the kind of pressure I put on myself."

"Because you thought I'd get mad at you for not telling me?" Reggie wondered aloud. "Or you thought I'd start to feel bad about Silvia and Cricket and the rest of it?"

"The second, at least at first. Then it began to look like maybe telling you wouldn't break you, after all. But by then, a lot of time had passed. I assumed you'd want to know why I didn't tell you straight away - and that you'd get angry. And I... Well, I didn't want you to be mad at me."

She paused, biting her lip as she threw him a worried look. "You're not, are you? Mad at me?"

Reggie cracked a tilted smile. "Why would I be?"

"That's just the thing!" Jasmine returned so passionately she startled him. "I thought I knew! But when I sat down and actually thought about why I was scared to tell you... it vanished. Poof! All that stress, all that pressure was gone like that." She snapped her fingers, her eyes wide at this apparent miracle.

He raised a bewildered brow. "That's good."

"Good?! Reggie, I haven't felt that way in... never! It's that kind of relief, Reggie, that's the feeling I was chasing when I... when I cut."

He sobered and sat up a little. "Oh."

Jasmine smiled at him, a bright blissful beam that rivaled the sun. "For weeks now, I've been dying to cut. Dying to. You have no idea. And it's all because of this, this secret that didn't even matter! That was my trigger this time, but when I confronted it, it backed right off without a fight. Like, who would've thought?!"

Reggie didn't quite know what to make of all this - but he found he was smiling back at her. Jasmine seemed sincerely happy so whether he understood or not really didn't matter.

"I'm really glad to hear it, Jasmine."

"Yeah..." The solar smile dimmed a bit. "Like I said, that was my trigger this time. I defeated it but there'll be other triggers, other stressful situations. Still, now I know! I can meet them head on. One by one but, Reggie, I can beat them!"

He inclined his head. "You sure can. I'm proud of you, sweetheart. I mean that."

Jasmine lounged back on one elbow, looking at him in a way that made him think she wasn't seeing him, not really.

"I've been so mad at myself. I felt like I was too weak to cope this time, of all times, when you needed me to be strong. It seemed like I used to be stronger. I could just absorb it and move on - but of course it wasn't absorbing, it was cutting. And it wasn't moving on, it was me refusing to care that I hurt myself. And when I thought about that? I felt a different kind of bad. For the first time, I felt bad for how I've been treating my body."

She laid her head on the pillow, still staring into his face with that remote expression. "A healthy kind of bad, you know? I'm supposed to be sorry for hurting my body. And I was. And I just sat with the feeling. Didn't cut my way out of it, I didn't even want to."

Reggie hesitated to jump in, weighed the wisdom of it in his mind then said, "I thought you cut your way out of a feeling of numbness typically, not any bad feeling in particular."

"Well, the numbness is really just anesthetized guilt, remorse, despair, anxiety - you know? Like, whatever feels crappy, it's going in the freezer. But just because I couldn't feel it anymore doesn't mean it wasn't there, under the numbness. My problem was, this time, I wasn't numbing up."

She returned to the present a little, if her direct gaze and rather fond smile was anything to go by. "I couldn't," she said softly, "because if I did, I'd cut. And if I cut, you'd know. And I couldn't disappoint you, Reg."