"This fucking sucks!"
I nearly yelled at the top of my lungs as I stopped my car and gazed around at the parking lot right outside the five story apartment building I call home; once again choked full of cars belonging to people who don't even live here!
I rolled my eyes at the situation before the never ending optimistic side of me tells me to simply pull around to the side of the building and enjoy the sight of the setting sun that awaits me; I sometimes hate it but this is the side of me that seven and a half years of active duty in the US Army couldn't seem to kill and what more than likely got me through it.
Pulling around past the entrance to the brick and mortar building that more or less resembles an old shoe factory than an apartment complex, I parked my car in a half-way slanted parking space and my dark brown eyes settled on the sight of the sun sinking just below the horizon and casting a spell of colors on the darkening blue sky.
Perhaps it's just the Scorpio in me but the sun and by contrast, the moon, are perhaps the only beautiful things that exist in the sky compared to the rather drab urban skyline that makes up the city of Lynchburg, Virginia; the place I have called my home for the past six years.
Located in the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Lynchburg is of zero repute and would easily be forgotten if one doesn't consider the fact that it was the only city in the entire state that wasn't recaptured by the Union by the end of the Civil War. That should tell one everything that needs to be said about this city's regressive conservative social environment.
Apart from that, the city is home to three universities and a hospital which I work at, other than that, everything else here is pretty dull.
Exiting my car and taking the elevator up to the 5th floor, I entered the two bedroom loft that I call home, the purring bundle of black fur that is my pet cat Bastet quickly running from the open bedroom door and greeting me by rubbing against my ankles as she normally does.
A smile spread across my face as I leaned down and gave my little angel a headbutt in the typical fashion.
The loft is a huge accomplishment for me and while some of the memories I have here aren't exactly great, my name Freemason Ginevra Alexandra Jackson, is the sole one on this apartment.
I walked across the living room and into the master bedroom, my eyes briefly focusing on the door to the smaller bedroom, a door that had remained closed for the past 4 years. To make a long story short, I came down to Lynchburg, Virginia from a wealthy majority African-American suburb just outside of Baltimore about nine years ago, at that time, for what I told my adoptive parents was college.
In reality, it was to go steady with a guy I will only refer to as being my ex whom I had fallen in ''love'' with in my freshman year of high school.
To say I fell in love with him is something I still kick myself for.
Either way, he was tall, blonde and had the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen and much to my own regret, back during that phase I seemed to want any guy who wasn't African-American.
Despite coming from a moderately wealthy family, he was also the local bad boy who, despite being one of the smartest people in my high school, was a notorious computer hacker and drug dealer.
I would be lying if I said that the whole bad boy vibe he gave off didn't draw me in and it was the fact that he was equally interested in me, out of the multitude of girls who'd thrown themselves at him, something of a scandal. I was and still am tall, skinny, biracial and fond of wearing clothing that would belong on a stud lesbian rather than a straight girl like myself. I've even been told more than once that I look like a cross between Ja'Nelle Moorhead from the Gen 13 Volume 3 comics and the singer Teyana Taylor although to this day, I don't see either of them in me.
I'm also notorious for my lack of feminine personality traits; I'm a rough and tough kind of girl who'd much rather play sports with the guys than watch chick flicks with the girls and to many guys, that quality alone was a deal breaker let alone the multitude of other traits that I had.
I guess it's safe to say that because of all of these things, I'm something of a loner and I don't have many friends which makes my previous relationship all the more tragic in hindsight; he wasn't just my boyfriend, he was the closest friend I had.
While the first year was great, things quickly turned south when he couldn't kick his old hobbies and I realized that I could never be the prim and proper housewife he expected and demanded me to be.
Shortly thereafter, in order to avoid the pitfalls of being a biracial woman in the South and falling into an endless cycle of working for someone else, I enlisted into the Army. Based on my ASVAB score, I was given the military occupation specialty of mortuary affairs specialist. Somewhere between the time I shipped out to basic training at Fort Jackson and the time I got back to Virginia about 17 pounds heavier and with a newfound sense of mental fortitude, I lost the guy whom I had come here with in a near three month long break-up that was messy to say the least.
However, the bright side of an otherwise tragic situation was that with my E-5 rate and the reliable source of income that I now had from the Army Reserves, I was able to keep the two bedroom loft and put it in my name rather than his. Further adding to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, with the reserves being only one weekend a month, my experience in the field and bachelor's degree in biology got me a rather lucrative career as a medical examiner at the local hospital, a job I had just gotten home from.
Pulling off the hospital scrubs which I had on, I walked into the bathroom that occupied a quarter of the master bedroom and gazed into the mirror, my reflection staring a hole back into me as I turned on the faucet and splashed my face with cool water. I had remained almost the same as I did when I had first come here; I was still the tall, skinny girl with dark caramel brown skin, almond shaped amber eyes and long arms and legs, although now I sported neck length braids in contrast to the dark brown 3C curls I normally had, my body was much more athletic and a bit sexier with the plastic surgery I had which took me from AA to DD cup, part of a post relationship glow-up that I had gotten to feel more confident.
Despite what had happened with my ex, a part of me wanted to be loved again and be accepted most of all by a man who would actually respect me for what I had accomplished in my life.
If I was going to be further honest, I didn't want a man who was going to bend over and allow me to walk over top of him nor did I want one who was going to demand me to be something that I wasn't.
A man who could respect the fires that flowed in my veins and even add to it yet had enough ice to cool me down when said fires burned too hot.
Someone who could be bold enough to challenge me in every way, shape and form yet show me respect when I rose to said challenges.
Men like that, however, seemed to only exist in fairytales or romance novels written by middle aged divorcees and there was a small part of me that had grown to accept that such endings simply didn't happen to biracial tattooed tomboys with head-strong natures.
Nonetheless, I pushed these often recurring thoughts from my mind as food instead came into my focus, what I needed was a night to myself.
"Alexa... play Nemo by Nightwish" I said as I walked back into the bedroom to a dresser and slipped on a set of boy shorts over the boxer briefs I wore and decided to forego a t-shirt in favor of a simple black sports bra.
As the sound of heavy symphonic metal music began to play through the loft, I felt myself close my eyes and relax at the sound of Tarja Turunen's full lyric soprano voice singing words that spoke to my soul.
I walked into the kitchen and pulled down one of the copper colored pans that hung from a rack I had assembled on the far side of my kitchen and set it on the stove. Reaching into a cabinet underneath the counter, I pulled out a large metal bowl and then set about grabbing ingredients from my fridge, my mouth set for some Nigerian style beef stew with rice and plaintains.
Ironically, as much a tomboy as I am, cooking is one of the few remotely feminine things that I enjoy doing especially since my adoptive parents are Nigerian-Americans and they instilled a love of food in me from a young age. I'll also be rather honest when I say that it was perhaps my traditional Nigerian upbringing that lead me to rushing into the relationship with my ex.
Just as I had pureed a combination of plum tomatoes, red onion, habanero chilies, garlic and tomato paste to a smooth consistency, the sound of several loud knocks at my door brought me out of my zone.
"Alexa... pause the music" I half-way said and half-way groaned in frustration as I removed the blender from its base, set it on the counter and then sauntered over to the door, not bothering to look through the eye-hole for one reason or another.
Opening the door without a second thought, the tall African guy dressed in what appeared to be a formal business suit who awaited me on the other side almost caught me by surprise.
I found myself doing a double take as several things jumped out to me all at once.
For starters, the guy was fucking HUGE and not just in terms of height!
I was a few centimeters shy of 6'0 but even I had to crane my neck upwards to look into his face and the dark blue polo shirt which he wore did little to conceal the immense muscle he had. Speaking of his face, I immediately noticed that he had chiseled masculine features that I recognized from my anthrology classes as being West African and his face was completely free of facial hair. His skin looked to be impossibly smooth and soft, the tone being a rich dark teakwood brown in color. His long black hair was dreaded and tied backwards into a ponytail although I could tell that it was naturally thick and kinky much like my own. Overall, he looked more like a professional bodybuilder or fitness model than what I assumed to be a businessman.
What really got me however, was his eyes... his irises were a pure charcoal black in color almost as if someone had taken a black ink pen and colored them in.
I opened my mouth to speak but as I gazed down his torso, seeing what was obviously a brand name suit that probably cost more than my rent, my mind was overcome with a single burning question... what the fuck was he doing here at my door in an apartment building on the bad side of town?
I stood there almost hypnotized before the soft baritone sound of his voice brought me out of my stupor and into reality.
"Hello ma'am, would you allow me to come in so I can use a cell phone charger? My phone died and I don't have any way of contacting my ride"
"Yeah of course, give me a sec and I'll gra... '' I began to say but a sudden feeling of uneasiness struck me as I mentally considered what he was asking and how it didn't make any sense.
He wasn't simply asking to use a phone charger, he was outright asking me to come in to my residence to use it. Most people would have only asked to use the charger without being that specific and with the way he was dressed, no doubt he would have been able to afford a phone that wouldn't die.
Keeping my eyes locked on his face, I swallowed the words rising in my throat and I instead opted to improvise as I forced myself into the most innocent expression that I could.
"Actually you can't, I just remembered that my phone charger broke some days ago" I lied off the top of my head.
His expression instantly changed, going from soft and playful like it had been to a serious one that made me feel as if he could see right through me.
"Ma'am, you are lying... Please all I want is just for you to let me come inside so I can charge my phone, I won't take too much of your time".
His tone was growing from warm to almost cold.
The moment the word lying hit my ears, I decided to end this even though my skinny ass was lying to him.
"Okay, I've told you I don't have a charger so get the fuck away from my door!" I exclaimed as I moved to close my door, only for his hand to reach out and stop it with an unexpected strength.
I immediately looked up and unintentionally, my eyes caught his.
