Forgivin' Ain't Forgettin' by Mata Elliott Read Free Book Online Page B

to Brandi before she also resorted to using her clothing. Outside, he whisked her into his arms.
    “I want to see another movie,” she whimpered, hugging his neck.
    “No more movies tonight.” He kissed Brandi’s chin, sticky with ketchup. He reached for Brittney’s hand. She immediately plunged it into her pocket.
    Their seat belts fastened, Trevor cruised from the parking lot. The rain seemed to be over, and a few stars brightened the sky. At the traffic signal, he peered around the headrest. Brandi’s lids fluttered on the brink of sleep. Across from her, Brittney stared through the window. A week after Brenda’s funeral, he’d sent both girls to professional grief counseling at the church, though he hadn’t signed up for it himself. The sessions benefited Brandi, but Brittney would cry hysterically when it was time to attend, and he eventually gave in and stopped making her go. He just couldn’t stand the crying anymore. And since Brittney continued to earn passing grades in school and was playing as energetically on the soccer field as normal, Trevor thought forcing her into counseling might do more damage than good and only make her hate him more.
    The little girl who used to shoot hoops with him, help him make cookies, and confide in him about everything was angry with him. She had every right to be. His behavior on the day they lost Brenda was irresponsible, insensitive. But at this point, he didn’t know what else to do or say to make things right. Not a day went by that he didn’t hug his girls, kiss his girls, and tell them how much he loved them. What else could he say that would mean as much as “I love you”?
    “I love you, too,” Rave Brown whispered to the man in her daydream before concluding with a kiss to his lips.
    She tossed her long hair over her shoulder. She rested a stem glass half-full of white wine on the nightstand and rose from the king-size canopy bed. The thick carpeting of the large bedroom snuggled the soles of her bare feet as she crossed the room and pulled open the door of a walk-in closet. She stepped inside and snapped on the light. Rave removed the pantsuit she’d worn to the firm, and for a long time, she stood motionless in front of a wide full-length mirror in a lace chemise and a matching thong. Finally, with her hands planted on her waist, she studied her curves from different angles and smiled applause. She had been blessed with her father’s fair skin and straight hair and her mother’s C-cup breasts and small shapely backside.
    The satisfaction on Rave’s face withered to disgruntlement. No matter how breathtaking she was, the man in her thoughts never appeared enamored. She stomped her foot like a contentious child and fussed at him, “You should be finished grieving by now.”
    Rave stared into the resolute eyes of her reflection. The woman staring back at her was an attorney. She didn’t settle for no without a fight.
    Rave jetted out of the closet. A hasty rifle through her bottom bureau drawer rewarded her with a pair of hip-hugging black shorts and a red top that was more bra than shirt, perfect for showing off her navel piercing. She slid into the clothes and a pair of red platform slides, then strutted to the kitchen to search for the ice pick.
    Inside thirty minutes, Rave slammed her foot on the gas pedal of her Mercedes and whizzed out of the driveway of the Germantown Towers Luxury Apartments. A screech of tires turned heads as she swung a sharp and reckless right at the corner. “I’ll get you, Trevor,” she swore, “by any means necessary.” That’s why she’d gone after his friend. Get close to the friend, and eventually, she’d get close to Trevor. Rave remembered the day she resurrected the age-old idea. Easter Sunday. She hadn’t planned to attend service, but with several new outfits, she figured it would be a shame not to model at least one on such a holy day. The benediction spoken, she approached her targets. As always,