Please excuse ANY errors.

February 15, 1999

~Tia's P.O.V~

"Well good afternoon to you," I chuckled looking up at Donald who came outside and is now standing beside my seat.

That man has been asleep for a while. I was too because I was extremely sleepy, but I've been fighting it for many reasons. Either way, I still woke up about an hour and thirty minutes earlier than Donald. He kissed my cheek.

"It's noon?" He spoke in his even deeper, morning voice.

"Donald, it's ACTUALLY past noon," I told him. "it's probably around two p.m.," I chuckled.

"Well, good evening to you too," he chuckled, scratching his head through his durag, then sat next to me on the porch swing with his arm on the backrest directly behind me.

We're outside where we ate dinner last night, except we're on a porch swing. It's a beautiful place to watch the ocean view. Although, the balcony in the bedroom is slightly better because we can see everything more. He has on his robe because we're here the coldest month of the year and it's chilly for him. The temperature last night was 65°F with a cool breeze, but according to the weather channel, it should be a good 60°F at the moment. That's hot to me.

"How'd you sleep?" I inquired, looking out at the ocean.

"Mm, I mean, I woke up this late, so you know that I slept VERY well," he explained, putting emphasis on his words. "You?"

"I slept alright," I replied, drinking some iced water.

"Sounds like it could've been better?" He asked me.

"It's a new environment and I have to adjust before getting comfortable. The first night is always tough. Maybe tonight," I replied with a small nod. I brought my legs up to the seat of the swing, now sitting criss-crossed.

The swinging is now being solely left up to Donald and his long legs. Then his head jerked my way. I put my feet on the swing with my knees pointed up.

"I'm surprised that you're sitting out here with nothing playing in the background. With you, it's music all day and every day.

"The sound of the ocean is beautiful," I responded. "It's earth's natural music."

"True that," he agreed with a slight nod. "It's shit like this that makes me appreciate my current life even more. I mean, the fact that we're able to travel to different places and see some of the most beautiful, and sometimes even basic views make me appreciate life. EVEN THOUGH, I could've taken you somewhere different like I wanted to," he chuckled, somewhat joking. "This is beautifully basic, but we're still very fortunate."

I silently nodded, carefully listening to his words.

"But I get it and I understand you," Donald added.

We sat there for a while just listening to nature's music, and then Donald stood up.

"I'm not gon' lie, but I'm starvin'. I'm about to make myself another plate. You want me to bring you out something?' He asked me.

"I'll come," I slipped my feet into my slides, then stood up. "I think I'll just finish my plate from last night."

"You did all that last night talking about how hungry you were, just to eat very little. What's up?" He asked me.

I shrugged, "nothing," I spoke truthfully. "Everything is fine. It's just that on a regular day, I work so much which leads me into not having much of an appetite. It just declines. Also, I don't want to develop an unhealthy food addiction like I had the majority of my life."

"Too much and too few of some things are unhealthy," he explained to me as if I didn't know.

"I know, but sometimes I don't realize how much of the meals I've made because I'm so engrossed in my work," I paused as we walked slowly. "You know, after growing up and being forced to eat everything on my plate, no matter how much food was there or how full I was, I realized that as an adult I don't have to do that. Many times it was truly too much food and I would sometimes verbally express it. They give us all this food, making us consume all those calories just to ask why we got so big. Parents not knowing that they're part of the problems. The excuse was there are starving kids in Africa who would appreciate it."

"I've heard that one a few times," he chuckled.

"Exactly. It's not like we didn't get kicked outside all day and play, because my family did quite often. It was still too many calories. I realized that I don't have to eat everything on my plate because there are starving people elsewhere. I don't want to become gluttonous as I previously was, nor do I want to be obese. It's a learning process," I explained.

"Me and my brothers weren't raised like that. I mean we had to eat everything on our plates, but it wasn't to the point where my mother had us overeating or anything. However, I did have cousins whose parents did the things you said and I did not realize those things were occurring until you just mentioned it," Donald replied.

Donald continued to speak. "That's crazy as hell. In black communities- I'm sayin' this because I'm black, I don't care about the other cultures, we're shamed into consuming more food than we should, just to be called fat and all kinds of unfortunate names by said people when you get big. Even as an adult at family gatherings, some of us still get why we didn't eat everything on our plates," he opened the fridge while I sat on the island. "It's like, why the hell are you worried about what's on my plate? A lot of times I didn't eat everything as an adult because they let some mothafucka in the kitchen who can't cook and that shit be nasty as hell," he said laughing.

"Exactly. You get it. I understand that it isn't everyone's case, but there are so many instances where what we said is true," I told him. "Yasir for instance- we were fed a lot and I'm thankful that we never went to sleep hungry, he would sneak food at night. He would be chowing down because sometimes I would catch him in the kitchen when I'd wake up in the middle of the night for something to drink. Imagine being fed so much throughout your life, then going through puberty and craving more food. That's a recipe for obesity."

"Yeah," he plopped the plate into the microwave. "That's crazy. When I hit puberty, I would sneak hella food, but like I said, we weren't ever overfed. What you said makes so much sense. People get older and get stuck in their ways and continue things from childhood and I don't mean just food alone. They simply just don't know some things are a problem because shit can become more normalized across the entire diaspora."

"Mhm," I nodded. "Food addiction isn't looked at as bad in the black community until the results start to show up in the person. It's actually sickening," I went to wash and dry my hands, then took my seat again.

"With all of that being said, you still have to eat more. You don't want to be on the opposite side of obesity either. You want to be in the middle, eating a healthy amount of food with a healthy weight. You don't want to waste away."

"I know that too," I replied. "I don't want to do that to myself either, but I'm still training myself not to eat so much."

"Okay," he placed my plate in front of me and placed his newly made plate inside. "I said I wanted to eat more food and more healthy and you helped me with that, so I'm helping you with this. The last time you ate as much as you're doing now is when you broke things off with ol' dude. I think you're stressed because of everything that has occurred over the past- what? Four months. You may not think so, but your body feels it and your hunger seems to suppress when you're stressed out. It's also what you said which is working a lot. All those things together can also stir up a recipe for disaster. You know what I'm sayin'?"

"A disaster I will not become," I chuckled grabbing my spoon. "I'm fully aware how little I eat AFTER the fact, but my appetite isn't big. My doctor says I'm at a healthy weight range, so it's fine."

"You're aware and so am I, but I don't want to see you get to how you were when you were hospitalized, Tia. That was bad. You haven't been to the doctor in a little while. Since then you've lost a lot."

"I concur. It's all good fat that dropped." I looked down at my plate and began eating. "We've both had addictions, but mine isn't frowned upon as much as yours. The kids in other countries are starving, but when they do eat or can, they don't overeat or they get sick."

"Same thing with drugs. Too much makes you sick when you haven't had enough," he nodded, folding his arms. "But makes you dependent when you've had too much."

"I love you," I tilted my head, looking up at him.

"I love you," he smiled.

"You know, the way you're able to listen and understand what I say is very attractive. There are so many men who pretend as if they're listening but don't. You actually do listen, and I know that by your responses," I told him.

Donald has his faults, we all do. Some would say that I'm a fool to be with a man who became violent with me years ago. He's been nothing but gentle since then. If he does get that way, I know how to walk away. Trust me, I haven't spoken to so much of my family in YEARS because of their actions and messed up mindset. I'm not scared to be alone. This is coming from a woman who has the ability to isolate herself and be okay with it.

"I appreciate the compliment. When I was growing up, I noticed my father wouldn't listen to my mother when she'd complain about some things. That's where a lot of problems between the two stemmed from," he replied. "I'm not saying that he's a bad person, but I don't want to be my father."

"Having an understanding of where your parents went wrong and learning from them to actively avoid said things shows growth," I nodded.

He sat down at the island with his plate, "yes." Donald began eating his meal. I stopped when he started. "What?" He asked me.

"I need some music. I'll be right back," I stood up and walked away.

"I knew it would come sooner or later," he chuckled at me.

Music is therapeutic. It keeps me from opening doors of trauma that I try to bury. It brings back things I thought I forgot and keeps me from ranting so much. That's what I pay my therapist. I know that Donald doesn't seem to mind listening to some of the things I have to say, but the sad things can bring down another person's energy. How do I know that? I have an aunt who has been through so much in her life, most of the same things that I've been through.

My aunt would often call my mother and I'd be around, my aunt would bring up some depressing things, lowering everyone's energy. Most of the time she would bring up the same things over and over. She didn't have a therapist, so she was very depressed. However, she does tend to victimize herself in many situations where she's the actual perpetrator.

That's the same auntie that touched me and whooped my behind every chance she got because she was so angry and depressed about her life. The entire family is a mess. My aunt was raped and molested multiple times throughout her life, but when my cousin was raped by her brother; who is also one of my uncles, her response was my cousin wanted it.

This aunt had no empathy whatsoever. She wasn't the only one who had that mindset, my mother actually agreed, as well as some of the other sisters and siblings. It never fails for them to blame the victim if it's a black female. That's the very reason this has been occurring in my family for generations. Family or not, that's not a group of people I would allow my children or nieces and nephews to be around. It's sickening and I'm starting to feel nauseous thinking about it. This is exactly why I need music.

Trauma doesn't become healed from therapy as much as people like to think. While some people CAN get healing from therapy sessions, it really just helps many people to have better-coping mechanisms when there's a trigger or it pops up. I came back downstairs with my travel CD case. I never leave without it.

"Babe, you want to do that food thing today?" Donald asked me once I came back to the kitchen.

"Food that we've never tried?" I asked him for clarification with my voice hitched.

"Mm, I really just want to be in the house today. There were just so many people yesterday and I'm still drained. I don't want to be seen by much of anyone right now," I exhaled.

"Alright. I did have other activities planned yesterday outside of the house and plan B for the inside of the house, but we got sidetracked and tired," he chuckled, "so maybe we could do those inside activities. I knew you'd probably want to stay in because of how you are socially. Being around a large number of people drains you."

"That's fine with me." I placed a burned CD in the slot and pressed the button to close it. "What are those activities?"

"Painting which will take a while, had my security rent us a few selected movies, and I have a tape where we could practice slow dance. We're both ass at dancing and it'll be nice to be great at it at our wedding," he laughed. "You know when we have our dance. Cheaper than a teacher."

"It would be nice if we get out there and could actually dance," I said laughing. "Although, I'M not as bad as you are in real life. I don't get down in front of too many people, but I've had practice."

"Everyone would be so surprised," he shook his head. "You can do your thing when you're alone, but I know for a fact we can't slow dance. My parents tried to teach me when I was young. I used to stand on their feet as they danced, so I guess you can say they were teaching me."

"You be getting your little two-step dances on too," I told him laughing, and started doing it even though it didn't match the beat of the music.

"So irritating," he shook his head at me, laughing. "Plus, you're doing it wrong."

"I'm doing it wrong? Well, why don't you come show me how it's done, DeGrate?" I asked him.

He stood up, "a'ight," he spoke while chewing his food and walking to me. "First of all, you got to put some swag into that shit," he stated then started doing the dance. "You feel me?"

"I feel you," I said laughing. "You forgot the sagging pants," I said laughing.

"What I'm supposed to do, sag my drawers? Baby, I ain't got no pants on. Plus, a nigga don't sag no more," he said laughing. "Now that I know better and where it originated."

"Thank God," I threw my head back laughing. "Follow your favorite, Prince's, lead and I'll stitch "NOT FOR SALE" on all of your pants," I joked. He gave me a look as if to say don't play with him like that. "I'm sorry."

Then his face softened. "Follow my lead," Donald instructed.

"Mhm," I said getting down into a semi-squat with my legs cocked open like my fiancé. "Donald, what am I supposed to grab?" I asked him because he grabbed his crotch while doing one of his stepping moves.

Donald stopped dancing, "grab something," he shrugged. So I grabbed his crotch dancing, "alright now. Don't be calling me no horn dog once I get to that place with your nasty ass."

I let him go, "no, not really," I disagreed with his statement. "This is in a non-sexual manner."

"Let's talk about last night," he raised his eyebrows at me.

"See, that wasn't me," I pointed to him.

"Who the hell was it?" He asked me, then burst into a fit of laughter. "I know damn well it wasn't another woman."

"Listen, I don't even know what happened last night, and it was definitely another woman. Can we please leave it alone?" I asked him with a look of embarrassment written on my face, clearly feeling the same way.

He leaned forward to kiss my lips, "No, let's talk about it because I want to know who the hell I was in bed with?"

"Beats me," I shrugged. "I ate dinner and went to bed afterward."

"I think we need to finish playing that game from last night. We did a good ten questions together- shit, IF that. I'm sure that will get it out of you," he replied. "You are really... Something..."

"Donald..." I trailed off in a sing-song tone.

"Tia..." He mocked. "This is different than what I'm used to. I usually know what I'm getting into but with you... You crack sexual jokes, you're prudish, but when it comes down to it, your actions speak for themselves."

"Mm, I'm never doing that again," I shook my head. "Not until much later. You know?"

"So it's confirmed that it was you?" His question is rhetorical, and he raises his eyebrows. "Not until we're married, right?"

"Actually, I can't make any promises. It depends on the mood, but I'll try not to until then," I chuckled.

"Let's go eat, beautiful," he spoke, then walked to his plate.

I turned the music down to a low level and then followed him. When I made it to the island, I took a seat on my stool and began eating while listening to the music. We finished eating, washed our hands, and he led us to another room that I hadn't been in that was downstairs. Yesterday, we only took a tour through the upstairs and it wasn't in-depth.

"I have a slight headache," I thought aloud. "So what should we paint?"

"Either we try to paint each other OR paint what we feel represents one another," he replied. "Possibly what we're feeling at the moment. I don't know."

"We should paint what we feel represents each other. That's actually a great idea," I told my fiancé.

"Alright, then that's what we'll do," he said pulling out a chair for me which I took. He pushed it in before going to the other side of the medium-sized, almost small table. "I'm not good at this, but this is the type of stuff you like to do being that the entire upstairs of your room is dedicated to your art."

"I'm not as good at painting as I am at drawing," I told him.

"You have one of your painting hanging up and it looks like art. That shit goes hard," he told me. "You a hustling type of woman and from the piece you have hanging up being shown to everyone who arrives at your house, you could sell some art and make even more money. I'm not just saying that to be saying it either, it's truth."

"I don't know about all of that. Plus, I don't do replicas unless I feel I could do a better job. It's personal to me," I said pouring some paint into the palettes.

"That's the thing about art. That's exactly what makes it sell more. Give them a story, even if it's bullshit, many would purchase it. How do you think the art pieces that look like shit sell? Because they have some sob or deep story behind it. Some sound like pure bullshit, while others seem over-exaggerated. It does sell. I want to see what you have in that room. I ain't ever been inside. You're private."

"I am, and I feel like that's my space. When I want to, I will," I told him. "It's like your home studio. It's a private place for you."

"Yeah..."

"I feel like building a house was a stupid move, especially knowing that I wanted to travel," I chuckled. "It was so early on too. I love my house, but I definitely could've waited. I wish I could move that house to the West Coast."

"The good thing about it is that when you come to visit Georgia for business purposes or family, you won't have to pay for a hotel or anything. You'll be going there very often, I'm sure, because it's where you basically started."

"True," I replied then began to snicker.

"What?"

"This is random, but you're going to laugh."

"Mhm, continue."

"A few nights ago when we fell asleep on your couch, I woke up to a PSA. So it was three or four men that went hiking in the woods and mountain, right? As they were walking, a snake was threatened and bit one. This was a long cobra, so I don't know how that came about when they weren't in Asia." Donald nodded, listening.

"The man was but in his groin and-" I started laughing. "You know a person has to suck the poison out of the person who was bitten. The snake had already scurried away by this point. The friends had to act fast to avoid the fatality of their friend. It was horrible acting, but one mentioned that the poison had to be sucked out and they just happened to have some type of oil to do it. You know, you have to cover your mouth in oil to suck the poison out. Anywho, they all looked at each other clueless about who was going to do it."

I continued, "on the screen as one of the men spoke, they said, would you suck the poison out of your friends' groin? The men looked terrified, but one did it. He wanted his friend to love. Would you do that for any of your friends?" I asked Donald.

"Hell no," Donald immediately shook his head. "I would hope that friend, whoever they may be would accept that shit too. That's trifling as hell," he said laughing. "Eww."

"The men were all married too because they were talking about their wives on their way up. I'm trying to figure out what a group of men were doing with a large bottle of oil in the middle of nowhere were thinking about when bringing the oil. Sure they didn't think a king cobra which doesn't live in those areas would bite one of them."

"Aye, that sounds like a party thrown by Puffy," he said then bursted out laughing.

"Ewww, babe!" I said feeling disgusted.

"Now you see how I feel," he chuckled. "That nigga weird and not just because he DL or anything, it's the other shit he does."

"When did you find out they get down like that?" I asked him.

"Later on. It really didn't get this bad until Puffy got big. That nigga would flirt with me and shit, but I took it as a joke because I was young as hell at the time. We all laughed it off but found out not too long after, then I shut all that shit down. Dude was getting topped off by other male artists and was caught by some of us. It was weird and awkward as hell. Then that shit started to make sense," he shook his head. "Most of that crew is like that and adds sickness to the mix," he told me while stroking the canvas with his paintbrush. "I wouldn't care if it didn't include pervertedness, but it does. There are too many weird ass people."

"True," I agreed. "It's crazy that when it does get reported, nothing happens because of the ties these people have."

"I feel you. That's why that nigga, Puffy, acts funny towards me. I told the truth in court and that's just that. Figured I'd lie when I saw that bullshit. That's exactly why I'm not goin' to be playing that shit when it comes to my kids. They ain't gon' be hangin' around all these people without one of our supervision because I don't know how they were raised or what they've been exposed to. Hell, well-known people would do shit in front, to, and with their children. Sick as fuck," he shook his head with a deep frown.

"Or that's how SOME parents get their children into the industry business. It's sad," I shook my head.

"The good thing is when I entered the business as an adult, the fellas and I had each other's backs. Sure we argued and fought, but we had each other's back when outsiders- as in other than the four of us, tried to do some weird ass shit. My current values don't exactly match theirs, we may not hang out as much, and I may have outgrown them, but those are my boys for a reason. There is no bad blood and they don't ever be on that type of funny shit. We had each other's back all the time," he told me.

"The feeling of outgrowing people you were once close with is crazy. It's like you don't want to let go, but it's something that must be done. I haven't been through that in a while, but it happened with the family members I was close with. Friends too, but there's no bad blood either, it's just what it is," I shrugged. "Some people are placed into another person's life for a season and some for a lifetime. You just have to know when the time is up."

"True. I still love you but from a distance. I can't watch someone destroy themselves with a front-row ticket and be okay with that. That's how I look at things with the Hailey's. I could talk sense into them, but it's up to them to listen and if they don't I just have to move accordingly. I can't say fuck them because I've been there myself, but if that means we don't speak for a few seasons, then so shall it be. I don't want to give up on people in hard times," Donald told me.

"While that's true if you do choose to give up on someone, it doesn't mean you're wrong. People have to sometimes dig themselves out of that hole, especially when their actions cause them to push you out of their lives. It's hard, but you have to once those people are pushed away. It's up to them. When I was in my dark place, I realized that I had to help myself. The world doesn't care, not that they knew, but they don't. Anyone can speak to someone until they're blue, but it's up to them to change," I replied.

"I know," he replied. "Sometimes it can take a certain person to spark that change in a person. For me, it took an almost near-death experience, but for some it's different or NEVER happens."

"Yeah," I nodded. "Multiple things could be true at the same time."

"Damn, have you ever thought we'd be so successful?"

"With myself, it seemed like such a faraway dream that I would never be able to touch. I saw my cousins doing their thing to make money outside a nine to five, but still had to borrow money from people- some never paying it back," I chuckled. "Anywho, I wanted to get to a place where I didn't have to borrow money from family, not that I ever had because- I don't know. I would just rather go without."

"I feel you. I was borrowing hella money. It was a neverending cycle. Between my parents, friends, and people I dated. I don't know who I borrowed from more," he chuckled lowly. "Shit was crazy."

"The difference between you and I is that I was still living with my mother at nineteen, while you weren't in stable living environments, so it's understandable why you borrowed money."

"Yeah, life was hard," he shook his head. "It was what it was, but I'm glad to say I made it out of that hole. I think those were the second darkest moments of my life. I was constantly getting kicked out because I was just that nigga that lived from place to place. I did work, and I stayed with a job, but it wasn't enough to sustain a decent living. I had minimum wage income, but had to pay for business fare, food, gas if someone else took me where I needed to go, and bare necessities such as hygiene."

"By the grace of God, we're here. We made it," I added.

"Yeah, but I had two rounds. While I didn't become flat broke, I blew a lot of money on stupid shit, while some was stolen by the label. Though I had more money, that was the darkest time. I went into a downward spiral for years. 95% of the problems in my life were solely on me. As you've stated, by the grace of God, we're here."

"That's true. Most problems that people have are the ones they've brought on themselves."

"Do you believe that our lives are planned for us before we even take our first breath?"

"No, Donald. By our parents? Yes, but not by God. We're handed options and we choose our paths with every given situation," I told him.

"Interesting..." He trailed off. "I do believe in what you said, but I think our lives are already written."

"Written where?" I asked Donald.

"Shit, I don't know. Some books God keeps. I think some people's lives are a lesson to surrounding people. Our own lives are a lesson too, but I mean people who didn't live to see the other side- the good side of life because darkness completely took over. The ones who are still miserable because they let their circumstances get the best of them."

"Great analogy. That's deep," I nodded. "At the end of the day, I believe everyone's life and death are a lesson to somebody. Whether they were in a dark place, a bad person, a good person- anything. We learn. However, we can't live our life through the dead. Your path could lead to different outcomes, no matter what road you take."

"What'd you learn from your grandparents?" Donald asked me.

"Mm, that's kind of hard because there's no one thing. You first."

"Just list them all," he replied swishing his brush in the water. "I just learned that life is about balance. You need a little bit of this and little bit of that. Everyone's needs aren't the same, but as long as your habits aren't harmful, there needs to be a balance," he spoke to me, dipping the brush into another color.

"That's good. I did learn balance from my grandparents on my mother's side due to how unbalanced they were. Most of everything they did was too much. They always went overboard with the alcohol, drugs, jokes- everything really. They showed me who I didn't want to become and the same things go for my parents," I told him. "They showed me every example of the type of person I didn't want to become as well as people I didn't want to surround myself with."

"Mm, I think my grandparents were great examples. I mean, they did go overboard with religion. They blamed everything on God and Satan instead of taking accountability or placing accountability on the individual. The same goes for my parents," he chuckled. "I had to unlearn that. It's great to have faith, and I have strong faith. Look at me. I know God exists, but some people go overboard. You know what I'm sayin'?" He asked and I nodded because I do know what he's saying.

"Yeah. How was your night and how has your morning been so far?" I asked him.

"Oh, what a night. Late December in '63, what a very special time for me, as I remember. Oh what a night," he sang the song by Four Season, then gave a small chuckle.

"That song is about sex," I told him.

"Don't I know it," he chuckled. "Nah, for real. My night was good. One of the best parts of last night was seeing you win your awards. You deserved that shit. Of course, my artist winning some awards too, but I'm talkin' about you," he smiled. "Don't you know that you're awkward as hell?"

"I'm well aware, babe. What makes you bring it up?" I squinted with a smirk, waiting for his response.

"I just recalled a conversation you had with some people last night. I was near in- well in the presence of someone talking at me because I wasn't listening at all, so they were definitely talking at me. You were just hella awkward and I was cracking the hell up. You were over that shit," he shook his head. "For some reason, they ain't take the hint either."

"Babe, there were plenty of conversations that took place and I was uninterested," I giggled. "I was listening most times, while other times I pretended to listen."

Donald shook his head, "that was dope. Something has to be wrong with you coming down the stairs in an ape costume though. Only you!" He cackled in reminiscent. "Life is great, the entire night was fun and eventful. What else is there to say?" He shrugged. "My morning is normal. I had a great night's rest, and woke up feeling refreshed, so I'm cool. What about yourself?"

"Other than the overwhelming feeling of everyone speaking to me, sometimes at once, it was beautiful," I smiled.

"I do have gifts, do you want to open those now or later?" Donald looked at me.

"What are the gifts?"

"You gon' look me in my face as ask me, the man who brought the gifts, what he got for you?" He tilted his head to the side. "That's the whole point of a gift, it's an entire surprise."

"Fair enough, but I think I'll wait until later."

"Yeah, I didn't get to do a lot of what I planned last night," he shook his head. "But you still enjoyed the little things we did do," he then started to laugh. "A fuckin' six?" He began shaking his head.

I threw my head back with a deep sigh. "My goodness, Donald..." I shook my head at his question. "You won't live it down," I lifted my head to look at Donald. "That wasn't the first time we had this conversation either."

"That's right. Not until I'm redeemed or I feel like I'm redeemed," he chuckled, "AGAIN. I don't know what you thought this was. I thought I was doin' a damn good job especially due to your reactions. That nigga must've had your ass climbing walls or some shit if you're comparing me to his ass," he looked at me again with a squint. "You are rating me based on me alone or comparing me to your best, which is that nigga?"

"Here you go answering questions you're going to get upset at?" I asked him.

"First of all, I'm not upset. I'm just still in shock AND- wait, so how am I a six, but reactions seem to speak for themselves. Are you sure you've never faked it?"

"NO," I put emphasis on my words. "You're thinking too much into things, babe. A six is still good, but I left improvement room."

"A six is good?" He asked me, laughing. "You're ridiculous! You know good and well that shit ain't good."

"Well, we have two different perspectives."

"So if I rated you a six, you'd be fine with that?"

"Yes, Donald. I would ask where I could improve, but you've already told me where. I'm new to this, not true to this. You were the first person I blew. Have I been improving?"

"Definitely," he nodded with a smile. "So answer the question..." He trailed off.

"It's both. Don't we do the same with food? You can have the same meal two different times, but the second time may taste better than the first," I told him.

"Mm, you are correct," he agreed. "That happens, but me and that nigga ain't the same. This is different. You're comparing food to intimacy."

I playfully rolled my eyes, "duhhh!"

He started laughing, "I just wanted to make sure that you knew that too."

"Mm, those lips though," I stared at his lips, which he licked while giving me a chuckle.

"Shit, I was looking at yours as you spoke," he replied. "They look good as fuck. Juicy and shit."

"What are you? Some kind of mind reader?" I asked him.

"By all means. I welcome you with open arms," he replied, then looked up with a squint. "As long as you give these mothafucka's back, it's all good."

"Nah, I think I'll continue to paint, but don't let anyone take my spot while I'm away," I chuckled, rinsing my paintbrush.

"I'll suck yours later."

I looked up at him to see him squinting at me with a deep smirk, "What'd you say?"

"Hmm?" He frowned. "What you talkin' about? You cool? You know I hate repeating myself. You heard what the hell I said," he laughed.

I shook my head, listening to the music. I didn't bring my CDs in this room, so the radio is just playing.

"Oh, what a night," I heard Donald singing the song under his breath.

I'm guessing that the song is stuck in his head from him singing it a few minutes ago. That's not even what's playing on the radio, but what he's singing sounds better.

"I need to get my case," I put my brush on the table and canvas standing on the floor so he wouldn't see what I was painting just yet.

I quickly sped walk, then ran out of the room and went into the kitchen to grab my CD case, then ran back into the room. Out of nowhere, I just got a sudden gust of energy and it felt great. I put the CD in the player, then took a seat.

"Damn, Speedy Gonzales just sped past me, blowing a fat-ass breeze my way," he said laughing. "I'm cold now."

"My adrenaline is suddenly high. I feel great," I told him.

"I see," he glanced at me with raised eyebrows.

I sat my painting on its easel and switched to the third track on the CD. I took my robe off because I was getting hot, squatted in my chair, and continued to paint.

"Oh, what a night-" the song played and Donald bursted out laughing.

"You must really want me to have that song stuck in my head?" He asked through his laughter.

"You singing it has it stuck in mine," I chuckled and started to sing.

"Guess we'll both sing this song out of our system," Donald smiled. We did sing along. "Oh, I, I got a funny feelin' when she walked in the room.
And my, as I recall it ended much too soon. Oh, what a night. Hypnotizin' mesmerizing me, she was everything I dreamed she'd be. Sweet surrender, what a night," he sang.

We passed the time by painting for about an hour or so straight. It was very relaxing with the music. Donald finished his painting before me and waited patiently while I finished mine.

"I'm finished," I announced. "You first."

"Will do," he replied. "Okay, so my painting has a briefcase because you're a career woman and money because you're all about your money," he pointed to each thing and I had a hard time identifying what he painted. "These stick figures represent family because you're family-oriented. The center, of course, is a brain because you're a deep thinker and you're in your head a lot," he pointed.

"Your heart is in your brain because while you do think rationally, you allow your feelings to take over even if it is detrimental to your well-being. You know, the family- stuff. We have the heart alone because you're a loving person. Then the smiley face because you're always smiling, even when you're crying sometimes. It can become a little creepy at times," he chuckled and I smiled.

"Then we have trees and clouds which are said to been the most beautiful thing in the world. You're the most beautiful thing in mine. It also represents your love for nature. Finally, we have a hands. They look like tree branches, but they're fingers that represent your creativity. You have the ability to do many things," he finished.

"Mm, okay. I like it."

"For you, I have opened hands that are supposed to be God's. God's hands represent the creation of you and your religion. Though you strayed away from him, you returned with stronger faith. Coming out of his hands is a large eight-note because music has always been the center of your life. Those are the E.T fingers touching a star because you have gifted fingers and hands-"

"And you're trying to be funny," he laughed. "A'ight though."

"You know I love your hands AND fingers. They're gifted- you're gifted. You're able to write and play most instruments. Anywho... There are the shades because you're always wearing them and sometimes throwing shade at others. The two hands are exchanging something- what? I don't know. I didn't know what to add, but that's insignificant but represents how giving you are. Lastly, the brick is how tough you appear to be on your exterior, and at the center of the brick lies an actual heart which represents you have a soft spot. That's it, that's all," I finished.

"Nice," he nodded. "Accurate. All except for that soft spot part. I'm the man of steel, baby," he joked. "But nah. It was good. You can paint. See, you can do a lot of stuff. You're talented."

"So was yours. We had a couple similarities too," I told him. "The pictures... The meanings were a bit similar as well though."

"No wonder you took a while. My shit is chicken scratch in comparison to yours. You took your time and so did I, but mine is- whew!" He said laughing. "Well, they do need to dry and in the meantime," he stood up and walked over to me, holding his hand out, "take my hand and follow me."

I grabbed his hand, standing up, kissing his lips. When I pulled away, I asked, "what are we doing?"

"Gifts."

"Ahh, yeah," I nodded, grabbing my robe, then we headed out of the bedroom.

"You're hard to shop for because you don't like many things, so I had a hard time," he chuckled. "I think you know that."

"I don't think it's that hard if what I don't like is known," I replied.

"Exactly, and you don't like too much of anything!" He told me while laughing. "There are so many things that I can't keep count. Just like your allergies that build every day," we stopped and he opened the door and we entered.

"Over exaggerating behind," I shook my head at him.

"You know how hard it is. I want to be practical with my gifts. Buy or make things you'll use, even if it's just something to hang on the wall. I'm not tryin' to be the type of man that always say, "it's the thought that counts," because I don't know my wife," he laughed through his nose. "Shit, I don't even like receivin' gifts like that. That's stupid."

"You know what? I'm glad that we're on the same page."

"Well, you were so ready to accept that photo for Christmas," he pointed out.

"No, I was going to tell you in private because I didn't want to talk about it in front of everyone," I clicked my tongue.

"Oh, okay," he nodded. "Well..." He gestured to everything.

Just like the car last night, the room is ALSO decorated with Valentine's Day-themed decorations. The gifts are laid on the bed, adding to the decorations.

"Okay, so I can explain. I hired a professional to decorate the room and the professional decorated the wrong room it was supposed to be the main bedroom upstairs."

"That's fine. Either way, I like it. This is decorated beautifully." I pulled him into a hug, pecked his lips, then looked down at his hand. "You love grabbing my booty," I chuckled because even after our hug and kiss, he was still holding onto my booty.

"Listen, there's no need for me to say anything to go against what you said because it's the truth. I like touching you, period," he told me.

I raised my eyebrows, then scanned the room once more. "If this looks like this, I can't wait until I get a hold of my gifts," I rubbed my hands together, rushing to the bed, and jumping onto it. Then I stopped in deep thought, "did you go through all of my bags?"

"Surprisingly, no... I just packed the few things that we unpacked last night and snatched your toys up," he rubbed the corners of his mouth in amusement. "Why?" His eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

I shook my head at him with a shrug, then began opening my gifts, starting with the smallest one.

"Tia, you can't ask me something, then leave me here to ponder."

"Ray-Bans. These are cute!" I put the clear frames, but dark lenses on my face.

"Yeah, you wear those five dollar ones that are gon' fuck up your eyes. That shit doesn't block out the sun like they should, but these do. That's why you be stealin' mine," he licked his lips, then smiled.

"You have taste," I replied, getting up to look in the mirror. "How come I didn't see this room last night?"

"Because I purposely skipped it after being informed. You weren't even paying attention. You were just tired," he chuckled. "Luckily, because you're nosey."

"The cat is calling the kettle black?" I raised my eyebrows once I turned to him. "You surprised yourself by not going through my things."

"Well... That's different..." He trailed off with his tongue in his cheek.

"Yeah, and that's why you're holding back laughter?" I giggled and Donald began to laugh. I walked back to the bed to open more gifts. "How were these?"

"That's for me to know and you to dot, dot, dot..." He pointed to me. "Never ask me that. Just know anything you receive from your man is great quality," he winked.

"Which equates to expensive. Probably about five hundred?"

"Tia, you have the nerve to ask me that. When you buy me shit, it's expensive as hell. Hell, you purchased an entire sports car for me AND got it custom-made." I picked up another box. "You won't treat yourself, so I will. No matter the cost. Just as long as it's of great quality, taste, and something you could actually use," he added, repeating what he already said.

"Thank you," I replied.

"You're welcome," he cheesed at me.

"Perfume galore!" I took the perfume boxes out of the bag. "You know me so well!" I ripped one out of the package to spray.

"Yeah. None of that cheap ass Bath and Body Works you be gettin'," he chuckled.

"Dang, everything I get is a problem..." I cackled. "Besides, I have been building up my grown woman scents. The GOOD stuff. However, I have to be careful of the ingredients, because if it touches my skin, I'll get a rash. Or have a sneezing fit from the scent."

"It's not your fault, but see... You're complicated as fuck," he cackled, taking a seat on the bed. "I got to look out for a lot when it comes to you."

I rolled my eyes at Donald. "Kiss my buttocks."

"You know I would in a literal manner, not figuratively speakin' though," he licked his lips. "You know your man, so I don't even know why you said that."

I made a face at him. "So what you're saying is that I should've said more threatening?"

He folded his lips into his mouth before releasing them. "You try that and you know what position you'll be folded in..."

"Mm, I think I like the sound of that," I squinted at him. "Sounds like a good time for me."

"You may be right in this case. As I've said before, I didn't have my time to shine."

"Babe, you were shining bright. I had you breaking into sweats and all you had to do was enjoy," I laughed.

"Where do you come up with this!?" Donald began cackling and turning red in the process, mostly from embarrassment.

"You're embarrassed?" I inquired. "Don't be, because your reactions were motivation to show the heck out. That was sexy. You don't think I get scared?"

"And you showed the fuck out. Shit, if you're scared, it was hard to fuckin' tell," his cackling simmered down into small laughter.

Turning red, I shyly looked down at my gifts.

"Babe, you're confusing as fuck. One minute you're THIS- all shy and shit, then the next thing I know we're in the bedroom and you're doing all kinds of shit. So it's just a sexual shy?"

"Babe, you should think about partnering up with some sunglasses company. You wear them all the time and you look good."

"Mmm-" he folded his lips into his mouth. "I don't know about that because I'm not trying to be on nobody's commercial. Nobody in Jodeci has ever been in a commercial. We're not exactly what they're looking for."

"You've rebranded yourself. Have an open mind."

"The more I'm in the public, the more I got people in my business. I'm a private man. I don't like that shit," he told me. "I make my public appearance with you, someone signed under my label, or a close friend. The last two are rare. I'm still in the shadows most of the time then too, but yeah..." He trailed off. "I had my moment of stardom already. With that comes false accusations. Accusations that can ruin even the strongest bonds."

"People will forever be in your business, but I understand," I nodded. "I don't like it either."

"That I already know. All of what you said," he agreed. "You're always coming up with something new to do," he chuckled through his nose.

"No, I'm just thinking how much more sense it makes than to give these companies free advertising. Many of these companies are prejudiced, and/or racist, especially towards black folks. Might as well get paid for wearing their brand. Although, those would most likey have you the ONLY glasses you wear while in contract with the brand," I told him.

"No, I'm looking at it through your point of view. My livelihood- US, our livelihood is more important than money. Like I said, I've been in this business in the public eye longer than you and have seen people go from high to their lowest low. I'd have to walk on eggshells because the moment I do something, say something, or there are false accusations, they'll drop me like I never helped bring in more customers," he explained and I nodded in agreement.

I opened the rest of my gifts and sprayed the scents on the shoe paper. I received some perfume, house shoes, two pairs of shades and some other things. All in all, all my gifts are something that I needed, similar to the items of Donald's that I've used in the past, or something I've mentioned in the past.

Word Count: 8,850

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