Introduction

Susie

Chapter theme song: 'Chandelier' by: Sia

1..2..3…Drink

Can anybody out there hear me? My voice is silent yet I am screaming at the top of my lung for attention. My dress hugs my curves like a cashmere glove as my damp hair clings to my fiery skin from perspiration. The loud sound waves of the blaring music deafen my ear drums as the toxic aroma of stale sex and cheap cologne infiltrate my nostrils. My drink almost spills and I feel my heart almost stop. My brown skin tingles as ghostly hands cascade against my loins. The hem of my red dress becomes raised, my lace undergarments now meeting the lighted room as a humid breeze sweeps against my lips. I open my legs, smiling. The guy looks at me, winks, then looks at my treasure. His fingers strum against my cavern door; rapping at my entrance like a ravenous hound in search of a lowly bone. The brown curls of my hair now have his sultry fingers wrapped within their confines. He leans me in for a passionless kiss and I oblige.

How did I get here?

I watched the chandelier of Angelica's home rumble as the music increased in volume. Small crystals began to reverberate against the bass of the ethnic beat that blared through the cheap speakers Phillip had brought from his friend's cruddy basement lounge. The lights flickered, the ceiling leaning, the floor becoming more unstable as the amount of people grew around midnight. I watched Chuckie from afar, wondering what he was thinking as he slowly nursed his punch. I watched him turn down the advances of several gorgeous women, all of who he could have easily bedded this evening if he was like his best friend. But Chuckie, Charles, was a different breed of man- an upstanding gentleman- which turned to not just be most profound trait, but his undying weakness and vulnerability.

I felt a slender finger enter me, coating itself with the kiss of musk, African soil, and yellow roses. I gasped, clenching his broad shoulders for dear life as I pressed my weight against his. I wrapped a single leg around his waist for balance, meshing my face against space between his shoulder blade and his oval face while never breaking my trance with Charles. I placed one hand around his toned neck and caught sight of my reality. I breathed out lowly in both pleasure and pain.

Charles turned away momentarily to whisper something in Angelica's ear, she giggling before grabbing Harold and entering the sea of people that flooded her foyer. I watched them make a trail towards me and immediately pulled away from Travis. She whispered lowly in my ear, yanking my red bandage dress while my pumps clacked silently against the lanolin floor to the pulse of the music. Travis gave me a small kiss on my cheek, giving me a carnal look that muted all the naughty things he had in store of me later this evening before submerging himself in a growing conga line. I gripped Angelica's hand in fear of being swept into the monstrosity, only to be pulled out into the arms of the devil himself.

His chic, medium-sized purple rectangular glasses sat nicely on the bridge of his nose as his finely toned face displayed freshly groomed facial hair in the art of a thinly bearded goatee. He smiled slightly, those effortlessly white teeth beaming like a lighthouse to guide a lost ship back to shore. I placed my conservatively manicured hands against his white blazer, inadvertently feeling the hardness of his chest and the curves and contours of his stomach through the white linen of his shirt. The finely starched khaki shorts he wore grew stiff as a familiar feeling grazed against my exposed thigh. His masculine left hand bedded my curls softly, his touch tender and angelic to where I felt myself close my eyes. His right hand slinked around my waist, just above my plump backside, as his thumb rested against the curve of my spine. I felt chills, my senses awakening.

He gazed at me for a short time, I doing the same, before taking me by the hand and leading me to an unfamiliar part of the Pickles abode to strangers. I turned around to see if Travis had noticed but he was too busy taking Jell-O shots off a Cuban woman's stomach amongst a hoard of people to notice I had gone missing. I couldn't even close the door properly before his lips attacked mine. I pulled away.

"This is wrong."

"Doesn't have to be." He said cooly, bringing me in for another kiss. "You can divorce him today if you wanted but you choose not to."

"It's not that simple, Chuckie." I moaned, mentally resisting the kiss but physically succumbing to the invading pleasure of his soft, supple lips. "He is my husband."

"But is he your soul mate?"

"…I don't know…"

There was a spell of silence before either one of us spoke again. "You and Angelica didn't work out?"

He shrugged. "She is a sweet girl but still the same ol' Angelica from when we were kids. I know we aren't exactly in the "real world" yet but I doubt she will ever change." He paused. "Plus, she is planning to stay here in Michigan to finish her Bachelor's and I am transferring to The University of Chicago to finish mine and go into medicine."

"Why Chicago?"

He remained silent, answering my question not with words but with the skillful artistry of his tongue. I felt myself stumble backwards, being pinned to a wall as my red bandage dress became a pool of fabric around my waist. My lace panty dropped down to my ankles as I stepped out of them quickly. I was officially out of my mind.

"Why are you waiting for me, Chuckie?"

"I've loved you since I was three years old, Susie. That will never change."

"You made a valentine for me because you were jealous that Timothy McNulty was interested in being my valentine and he was older than you." I giggled softly, not missing a beat of out kiss.

He snickered. "I still loved you. And I was not jealous of that; more so if you would accept his valentine and not be mine."

"But you've had several girlfriends since then, including your best-friend's cousin and my best- friend-enemy, Angelica."

"Tommy is cool with it and to be honest, doesn't really care. Angelica is in lust with Harold anyway. She also told me she didn't mind if you and I dated. She felt that is what we should have done from the start." He breathed, growing silent. "As for the other women, they were not you."

I began to speak but his tongue crashed against mine again, the taste of sultry, sweet champagne dancing against my lips. I don't know when things became complicated but they sure as hell made my life difficult. I was supposed to have it altogether, have things figured out. I was Susie Carmichael; Carmichael's don't stumble or fall. They live wholesome lives, live above standards because we have to, and become exceptional beings because we need to. We have holy marriages of our parents choosing, have three children maximum, stay centered in our heritage and community while not becoming too bogged down in the chaos, while staying in the public eye yet keeping out of the public gossip. So why was it so difficult for me to abide by these rules?

"Susie, you in there?"

Here comes the shame…

I pushed Chuckie away quickly. "Yes, darling. I had to use the washroom and didn't want to use the one everyone else was using."

I heard him chuckle lightly over the music. "Such a Carmichael-Jackson. Well hurry up, I'm ready to go and want you to make me a late dinner when we get back so let's wrap this up."

I sighed. "Alright."

"If you were my wife you wouldn't have to await my every beckoning call." His voice had finality laced within its depths as I gazed in his green eyes.

I pulled myself together quickly, fixed my hair and makeup quietly with Chuckie watching. He stayed perched against the wall near the master bathroom silently, watching me. I glanced at him once or twice but quickly turned away. I began to make my way towards the door before spotting an unopened bottle of wine on the previously unnoticed coffee table in the middle of the room. I grabbed the neck, uncorking it with ease before guzzling down almost half of it in record time. I placed it back gently. I began to feel that warmth I needed.

I opened the door and quickly closed it. I met my husband's gaze as I knew he secretly knew of my affair but was too proud of a man to admit it to anyone; not even himself. He forced a smile, brashly kissing me to where it almost hurt. I felt the pain within his kiss, the ache of his heart as the woman he loved slowly drifted further away from him despite his increased efforts. He began taking Viagra to keep his stamina in the bedroom, got back on medication to deal with his bi-polar disorder that almost resulted in a case of domestic violence against us, and was placed back on anti-depression and anxiety pills to stabilize his mood. He did all of that as well as attend couple's therapy with me with Dr. Lyle's as well as his own private therapy session to save our marriage.

I was expected to be a good wife and support my husband, not abandon him like the rest of his family due to his upbringing in foster care and in the system. I was expected to be much more understanding because I was his wife, endure the emotional abuse and physical threats, and create excuses of why he acted the way he did instead of casting judgment with a red pen.

No one bother's to ask how that makes me feel.

I glanced at my wedding ring. It was a constant reminder of who I was supposed to be. I'm a graduate student at The University of Illinois at Chicago taking up Educational Policy to fix the corruption and neo-liberal policy of my hometown. My mother is a world-renowned physician that is currently discovering a cure for the common cold while my father remains the new Johnnie Cochran since going back to law school after he decided to trade in his script writing skills for case briefings. My older sister and brothers were successful in their own right, my older sister a professional contemporary dancer, my older brothers both in the marines and an astrophysicists respectively.

Carmichael's stay ethnically grounded but not too cultural. We don't eat 'soul food' because we have more 'class' and we only date other cultured Blacks who have European sounding names but never outside our race because that would be too much. We don't wear anything with loud colors, baseball caps glorified with popular culture, and never sneakers. Our homes were maintained in pristine condition as our children were exceptionally behaved and not running around like animals. Carmichael's didn't live above the standards, we set them.

They were all in 'happy' marriages and worked out the kinks of their problems with their spouses. They don't have secret rendezvous with childhood friends whenever their husbands or wives have violent outbursts or emotional breakdowns. They don't find solace in expensive red wine and cheap champagne. So why must I deviate from the norm my family has set forth for me since birth? Why must I give into temptation when temptation doesn't exist in my world? Carmichael's don't fumble. We excel.

"Champagne?" I heard a passing waitress ask as she went around the crowded room giving out fireball shots and glasses of bubbly.

I took two, giving one to my husband. He didn't want it so I downed them both.

1…2…3 Drink

When will I learn…

The drive home was quick and easy. Travis drove because I was a little intoxicated but not so much to where I couldn't remember. Everything just began to blur together. He parked our family car in the circular driveway of his Michigan estate. The family butler, Cortez, greeted us with warm towels and bottled water service. I thanked him before clacking my heels against the cobblestone pathway and up the steps into our 'home'. Travis removed his blazer and undid his buttoned up shirt before gripping me by my wrist to bring me in for another violent kiss. I stilled and kept silent like a good wife, letting him take his frustrations out on me like he normally does.

He slammed me to the floor, yanking up my dress to reveal my lace bra and panty set. I steadied my breathing, rubbing my bruised bottom lip before he took me again. He exposed his chiseled torso and began to unbuckle his pants. I leaned backwards on the cool floor and gave myself a moment to adjust to the change of temperature. He whispered in my ear that he still wanted dinner afterwards and I immediately began to think if I took the steak out this morning and if not, would veal be a suitable substitute to go with garlic mashed potatoes and summer squash.

"Does he kiss you like that?"

I remained silent, earning a forceful thrust that made me yelp out in agony. I felt my eyes glaze over as I envisioned the dark brown complexion meshed against my silky chocolate one grow into a snow-kissed peach white, orange locks that tickled my nose gently, and soft featherlike kisses placed against my shoulder blade.

I had told him once that I didn't want to go to school for education. My bachelor's was in urban planning and I was working to attain my master's from my alma mater in education policy to reform public schooling for children of color. I wanted to not only give back to my community but revitalize it. But I didn't want to go to school for it. I wanted to volunteer, attend a few rallies, and raise hell every once in a while. I did not want it to consume my life because it would be two things: a) depressing as hell b) it is certainly the Carmichael way. I wanted to break barriers my own way.

My passion was the arts: singing, dancing, acting- but lately I have taken a liking to contemporary ballet and dance. It kept me level-headed, sane, and me from drinking a little bit more heavily than normal. I mentioned it once over smoothies at the Java Lava and I didn't even think he noticed it because I brushed it off just as quick. I did not forget that I should never underestimate him.

"You like?"

I was rendered speechless but nodded dumbly as I marveled at the largeness of the dance studio he had rented out for me. His internship must have been paying him handsomely because I knew this type of grandeur did not come cheap. I gazed at the freshly waxed cherry wood floors, the wall-to-wall mirrors, and the painted replica of "The Last Supper" on the ceiling of the studio; and then I heard my favorite song to dance to blaring from the speakers of his smartphone. A smile pressed against his lips.

I removed my denim jacket, inwardly smiling and thankful I decided against wearing jeans today and went with a plain crew neck t-shirt and black yoga pants. I signaled for him to come to me, to stand before me in the semi-lighted arena. His scent of fresh rain and sandalwood cologne infused within me as I placed my arms around his neck. He leaned in to kiss me but I pulled away, spinning gracefully to extend my leg and place my ankle on his shoulder- toes always pointed; transitioning into a hands free cartwheel.

A Chinese split turned into a pirouette, au chante, and my rendition to the number I was going to perform for my Julliard audition I was forced to miss because my parents found out about it and thought it be an unwise career choice. I normally would have been nervous to perform in front of people and would need a few minutes to calm my anxiety; but I was not performing in front of just anyone, it was Chuckie. He had watched Kimi and I dance together before out of curiosity- and to use as an excuse to see me on the regular when I was in town- and grew fascinated with my lack of conservation in my dancing. He said that when I dance, I become an entirely different person, and he is right. I become myself.

I felt uninhibited and free to be who and what I was.

I'm going to swing from the Chandelier tonight and not give a damn.

I'm holding on only for tonight…

Spinning into his arms I was brought into a deep, passionate kiss. He released my ponytail and allowed my head full of miniature braids to fall against the back of his hands. We slinked towards the floor, my breathing starting to normalize as he laid me down to straddle me. I thumbed the cool, wet metal of his jacket's zipper. I watched him remove it and the damp lime green t-shirt underneath. I palmed his chest, outlined the lines and ripples of his frame. He placed a featherlike kiss upon my shoulder, bringing my shirt over my head slowly. It got caught on my engagement ring and I stopped to pull my shirt down but he kissed me gently to ease me; only to remove the heaviest obstacle between us. It slid near the entranceway and into darkness.

A/N: I know I been gone for quite some time but I promise I am back-again. Anyone who knows me knows I go through these spells where I disappear and reappear for extended amounts of time. I was re-reading some of my older work and I am trying to see where I can go with them but I got this idea from my Chuckie and Angelica story and I actually like these two together but I am a fan for Chuckie and Angelica too. So expect the unexpected from me as usual. I hope you all liked this introduction. I will make chapter a little longer than normal but not by much

Also, this story is based on both personal and real-life situations because I been writing a lot lately and decided incorporate my personal experiences as well as some I have witnessed into my storylines. It's only so much teenage drama a girl can write about. LOL. Anyhoo, I missed you all and until next time kittens.

-SP