It's been a while. I tend to write over a course of a few months so I can provide longer chapters. This chapter involves a bit of time jumping/time jumping around. This is the second to last chapter. As always, my apologies for any spelling or grammatical errors. Enjoy and thank you for the reviews.
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Mike grabbed his gym bag from the trunk of his car.
Between all the work and the trips, he had actually been slacking on his workout.
But he was happy to be getting back to his normal schedule. The latest payment from The Grimes project just hit their account.
He doesn't know how he got so lucky landing a whale like Grimes, but he sees it as one giant step for his empire.
He grabbed the dozen white roses nestled safely behind his gym bag. They were Michonne's favorite and it was date night.
He made his way to the elevator of the building, a vase of flowers in one hand and a gym bag in the other. He couldn't wait to tell Michonne that the next installment was deposited. They were a few months away from finishing this job. And he couldn't wait to leverage Rick as a contact.
Michonne and him could finally hire a bigger team, move into a bigger office, and build that dream home in the country. But he would probably keep their current apartment for his "appointments".
The elevator stops on the fourth floor and lets in a beautiful brunette with a small dog. She gives him a coy smile and gestures to the roses he's holding, "She's a lucky girl."
He smiles back, "I'm the one who's lucky."
The brunette woman smiles. Mike grins.
"Have a great night," he says in his signature baritone voice.
The brunette nods, before saying flirtatiously, "See you around."
Mike smiled as the elevator doors closed. She was cute, but that was literally too close to home - even for him.
He walked through the hallway, excited for a cozy night in with his number one girl. Knowing Michonne, she was already dressed and working on a new recipe for them to try. God he loved her.
He opened his door and was met with darkness. His gym bag thudded to the kitchen floor in confusion.
"Baby?" Mike called out to the dark apartment before switching on a light.
Stillness replied.
It was only when he put the vase of flowers down that he saw an envelope under the schematics labeled Grimes Project.
Mike was written in Michonne's elegant cursive.
Mike grinned, Michonne always did go the extra mile for special occasions.
He rips open the envelope like a kid on Christmas.
He stumbles and reaches for a chair.
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About an inch under her left ear. Surprisingly, that's Rick's favorite spot on her. He remembers the path his thumb made under her left ear- his fingers cupping her nape-it's in the shape of the infinity symbol.
"What if we stay here forever?"
She cracked a small smile. It's tragic and beautiful, "If only."
He wrapped the other arm around her tight, "Well at least let me take you somewhere that's not," he gestures to the coach in his office they were currently crammed on, half naked, sweat finally subsiding, "Here."
Michonne gave a breathy laugh and squeezed his hand tightly before releasing it, "I can't do that."
"Why?" Rick asked, an octave away from pleading.
Michonne sat up. Rick couldn't help but lick his lips at the slight jiggle of her breasts.
"I've got to go back."
Rick sat up in a hurry, "Go back," he said in disbelief.
Michonne's hand palmed his handsome face, "Go back and deal with this…with him. Go back and get my stuff."
Rick leaned into her open hand. His eyes closed for a moment. He is tempted to ask again, "What if we stay here forever"
"Let me go with you," Rick said despite knowing the answer.
Michonne shook her head softly as she began to get dressed, "I need to do this on my own."
Rick watched her slip on her shoes and put her locs in a low ponytail.
"And then?" He asked quietly.
Michonne grabbed her purse and granted Rick another smile. This time he sees hope on the fringes of her expression.
She walked over to him on the coach and leaned down to kiss him.
It was slow, deliberate, and all consuming. Like kissing fate itself. His eyes remained closed for the moments after their lips parted.
"Goodbye, Mister Grimes."
X_X_X_2 MONTHS LATER X_X_X_X_X
"You're distracted," Herschel said calmly, not even looking up from his papers.
"No I'm not," Rick responded sharply.
Herschel lifted his gentle eyes in gentle disbelief. It was a lie, they both knew it.
Rick undid his tie and slumped unceremoniously on Herschel's couch and winced.
"Does it happen to have anything to do with that shiner?"
"You should see the other guy," Rick said sarcastically, closing his eyes.
"Where have I heard that before?" Herschel asked rhetorically, gently removing his glasses, "So, who is she?"
Rick groaned, "Herschel, come on."
"What was that girl's name? Used to live out on Fox Holler. The one with all them pretty barrettes in her hair? In the sixth grade, you tousled with Willie Croydon right in front of the principal's office if memory serves me correct."
"Herschel-"
"And that trucker who was being crude to Lori when y'all and Maggie did that trip to Key West."
"Herschel-"
"All I'm saying is that you have a real knack for playing the knight in shining armor."
"I didn't even start this one,"
XXXXXX FLASHBACK THREE DAYS AGO XXXXXXXX
He hadn't been sleeping.
He wants to blame his outburst on lack of sleep and too much caffeine, but ultimately, he knows better.
He's just pissed.
"What did you do to her?" Rick's voice was low. It was hard to hear over the music.
"Mr. Grimes? I'm sorry?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about you piece of shit."
Mike's brow creased in anger, the look he gave Rick is razor sharp.
Mike squared his shoulder. The other people in the section of the lounge stopped. They made no attempt to appear as if they were not listening.
"If we have a fucking problem, open up your mouth and say so, Mr. Grimes."
"You were the last person she fucking saw," Rick spat.
"You talking about Michonne?"
"Who the fuck else would I be talking about?"
"Hey y'all let's keep it civil," one of the patrons in the section said only for Rick to push forward to Mike.
"She went to confront you, you rat bastard!"
"Confront me?"
"Are you slow, you cheating piece of shit!"
Somehow, silence permeates the loud lounge. Mike's face contorts from confusion to anger as he charges Rick.
They fall to the ground. Rick winces in pain before gaining the upper hand. Mike lands a punch to his eye before Rick's fist barrels into his face repeatedly.
Rick literally sees red before he's pulled off Mike by a security guard.
"What did you do to her?!" Rick yelled.
"She left me!" Mike yelled, "She took all of our fucking money and left me without a fucking word!"
Rick pants, adrenaline coursing through his body, he could hear his blood pumping through his ears. He opened his mouth and closed it. He was speechless.
The security guard holding Mike looked between the two men, "Are y'all good? Or do I need to kick your asses out. Mike?"
Mike shook his head and shrugged off the security guard. He took his pocket square and wiped his nose with his signature grin, "Nah Tariq, we're good. Just a misunderstanding. Is the upstairs open? My associate and I need to talk things out."
Tariq nodded and signaled for the other security guard to let Rick go.
"Mr. Grimes and I are going to have a little chat."
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Rick pressed the rocks glass to his temple. He was certain it was already swelling.
They're at the far side of the bar. The upstairs of Atlanta's most exclusive club is well decorated and almost serene.
The pretty bartender with the copper coily hair gave a coy smile as she poured Mike a drink. He returned it.
Rick rolled his eyes as she walked away with a swish to her hips.
Mike lifted his glass to Rick, "To women. Can't live with them, can't live without them."
Rick scoffed.
Mike took a sip from his glass and winced in pain - Rick had got him good, "So you told her."
Rick shakes his head, "I should've. I'd known about your extracurriculars for almost a year. But no, she found out herself."
Rick watched Mike's hands grip his glass, "So where did she get the pictures?"
It was Rick's turn to grin, "She had one, I had more. Did you really think you were being discreet?"
Mike laughed darkly and shook his head, "So what's the play here cowboy?"
"What do you mean, "what's the play?"
"You narked and broke up a relationship, not to mention a business. For what? What's the play? You trying to buy our firm for cheap?"
Rick put down his drink and looked at Mike incredulously, "You really don't get it do you? You are that much of a pompous, self involved, prick. You have been with her for what, eight years and it's like you don't even see her."
Rick saw the very moment the lightbulb went on.
"You want her. You want my 'Chonne," Mike said disbelievingly.
"She ain't your anything," Rick said between gritted teeth, "You gave that up with all your bullshit."
"You want my 'Chonne," Mike said certainly right now, "Michonne isn't like that. We're going through a rough patch and she needs to cool off but that doesn't mean you're up to bat white boy."
"You sure about that?" Rick asked, innuendo laced every word.
The bar stool scraped as Mike stood up abruptly. The pretty bartender, startled, looked over in confusion.
Mike sat back down and shot a tense smile to the bartender.
He turned to Rick, basically hissing, "So you and Michonne huh?"
The urge to tell every sordid detail of the last 8 months of their tryst was intense. But Rick thought of Michonne. She would hate that. She's too good for that.
Rick took a sip from his glass, "She deserves better than you." He said it like it was a fact. He said it like he meant it. Because he did. Mike could hear it.
"She's a gorgeous, brilliant, and kind woman. You really thought that no one would ever notice that? You really think you're the only one with options?
Silence settled between the two bruised men.
"I met Michonne in Grad school. You think she's a stunner now? You should have seen her back then. Fine as hell. Top of our class. Smartest, most sophisticated girl I'd ever met coming from the neighborhood I came from. On our first date she raved about Japanese philosophy. I bought her a Katana on our third date."
Rick smiled despite himself. The first time he had stopped by her studio, they talked about meso-american architecture. He just stared at her in awe; he could listen to her talk for hours.
Mike continued, "We got serious after the fourth date. I mean, how could I not? She was the girl. She had turned down a dozen guys. But she wanted me. Some fucking poor kid from East Atlanta who barely got into the graduate architecture program."
Mike chuckled and sipped his drink, "Before we graduated, she had won this prestigious award. Youngest person to win, first woman, first black woman. I picked a fight with her at the award ceremony reception then fucked her roomate afterwards"
Rick wouldn't hide his sneer even if he could.
"That was the first time. I learned that night that while Michonne was brilliant in her own way, so was I. She had everything so why shouldn't I have this? She had the talent, I had the charm. I used that to our advantage."
"So she's your cash cow."
"No, she's not," Mike said sharply, "She's everything."
Rick scoffed, "I'd hate to see how you'd treat her if she was nothing."
"You don't think I know I don't deserve her? Of course I don't deserve her. But I would be a fool if I didn't try to hold onto her as long as I could."
"Well it looks like your time is up."
Mike shrugged, "I wouldn't be so sure."
Rick's head quirked to the side in irritation, "Why's that?"
"If you're her supposed next great love. Why are you sitting here with me? It seems like she left you high and dry too. Why's that playboy?"
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"So who is she?" Herschel asked, removing his glasses and facing Rick on the couch.
"It doesn't matter," Rick answered quietly, "She's gone."
"She's gone?" Herschel repeated.
Rick nods, pinching the bridge of his nose, "She's gone."
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"You better answer that or silence that,"
Auntie Augustina, beaded, braided hair clacked as she turned her head.
Michonne sheepishly silenced her phone, then grabbed her glass of wine.
"If you answer it, we can cuss his ass out together."
Michonne let out a laugh despite her dower mood. She didn't have the heart to tell Auntie Augustina that it wasn't Mike calling.
"I'm all about taking that boy's money, but you should've cussed him out while doing it," Auntie Augustina took a sip of her Budwiser bottle to punctuate her point.
That kind of brash honesty is exactly why she absconded to New Orleans. She couldn't bear the pity, the advice, the 'You go girls.' And if she was being honest. Atlanta was Mike's town. She was the girlfriend that he evidently never brought up.
Auntie Augustina, her mother's youngest sister, gave no looks of pity. When Michonne showed up unannounced with a suitcase and a bell jar with an orchid in it - all Auntie Augustina asked, in her heavy creole accent was, "Want me to shoot him?"
She looked down at her phone.
Saw this and thought about you.
It had been well over two months since she left Atlanta, and he was still texting.
She clicks on the text message in spite of herself. A katana with an etching of an orchid.
She closed her eyes as if the picture stung.
This was her hell. She was Sisyphus and reading every text and listening to every voicemail was her rock to push up a hill.
She never answered, and he probably would never stop.
The first voicemail, the morning after, was poetry despite Rick's characteristic few words.
Michonne, good morning. I don't think I even slept last night. I couldn't stop thinking about you. I hope - a long pause, then a chuckle - I was going to say I hope you're thinking about me as much as I'm thinking about you. But that's impossible.
Michonne knew that message by heart.
From there, the messages became frantic - Michonne, where are you? If he did something to you, I swear to god. Please let me know you're ok.
Then, mean - So I was just a fucking sex toy huh? Is that it? Something to fuck and chuck while you go back to that lying piece of shit? You two deserve each other.
Those were always followed by messages of regret and grief - Hey. Don't listen to my last message. Hell, you're probably not even listening to any of these. I just (he pauses and sighs) I just miss you.
Michonne had become well acquainted with his sad, sarcastic chuckles - Maybe we can just be friends. Just call me Michonne.
The only person from Atlanta she talked to was Sasha. After the first month, Michonne gave her a message.
So you're giving Mike the money to finish my house. That's the only thing you wanted me to fucking know? Gee, thanks Michonne.
She's a coward and they both know it.
Michonne, I don't know what you want me to do. Maybe you don't want me to do anything. Either way. You've got me.
Then tbe voicemails become less frequent.
If Michonne's being honest she's worried that they will stop all together. She hates herself for that.
Everytime her phone pings, she looks down.
Aunt Augustina sighs from her favorite chair in the sunroom. It's nearly sunset and the room is bathed in golden light.
"You too smart to go back. But the brain and the heart are not always on the same page."
Michonne shook her head definitively, "I'm not going back to Mike."
She says it with a certainty that impresses her Auntie.
"So what's the problem baby? Not that I mind having you here. It's been a little quiet since Esther passed. But your mind seems to be made up."
Michonne nodded. Miss. Esther, Auntie Augustina's "Roommate" of 25 years passed about a year ago, "And thank you for letting me stay this long. And keeping mama away."
Auntie Augustina snorted, "Yo mama ain't good in no crisis. Lord bless her."
Michonne chuckled.
They sat in silence as the golden light began to shift to the purples and magentas that signaled night. The cicadas sang.
"I think there's a part of me that knew," Michonne said quietly. She paused, ready for what she knew would be a brash response from her Aunt. Nothing came. Michonne continued.
"There would be little discrepancies. But nothing too, too major. Just little white lies. Maybe a strand of hair. But Mike's forgetful, a hugger, a schmoozer. Nothing worth blowing my whole life up over. And he was crazy about me. I'd fall asleep in his arms and before I drifted off I'd hear him say, 'Michonne, you're everything to me'."
Michonne sat her glass down, "And I believed him. Why shouldn't I believe him? Why did I have to be a fucking detective for a man who promised me forever. For a man I was building with?"
Auntie Augustina took a sip of her beer then asked the question she refrained from asking since her niece crossed her threshold, "So what happened?"
"He happened," Michonne answered plainly.
"No shit, baby."
Michonne shook her head, "Not Mike Auntie, Rick."
"Now, who the hell is Rick?"
Michonne thinks of the dream she had last night. She thinks of a gentle kiss in the crook of her neck. No matter how hard she tries to dissociate from the memory of being in his arms. She can't.
"It…it doesn't matter who he is."
Auntie Augustina, raised a brow, "Baby, you can lie better than that."
Michonne sighed and grabbed her wine glass again, "He's a client."
Auntie Augustina nodded, "Oh."
Michonne turned to her, "Oh?" she repeated back in disbelief.
"You is grown baby. I don't need all the salacious details."
Michonne blushes and tries to stutter a response, "There are no…salacious-" She stops mid way when she sees Auntie Augustina's brow raise even higher in disbelief.
Michonne clears her throat, "It's not like that. At least, it didn't start like that. Look Auntie, I did the right thing, ok? I chose Mike. I chose the life we built. And it didn't matter."
Anger consumed Michonne, "It didn't matter because Mike put his dick in just about every woman who looked like the polar opposite of me. I chose stability. I didn't choose the chemistry, or the butterflies, or the fireworks, or talking for hours, or the fucking private jet. I did the right thing."
Michonne stood up from her chair to pace, "I chose Mike because that can't eat, can't sleep, magnetic shit is for fairytales and romcoms. It fades. It is a rocky foundation, and my entire life is literally dedicated to building solid foundations. And Mike was too much of a pig to stay the course the way I did!"
Michonne thinks about how soft Rick's hands are. When they moved to the couch, she remembers thinking, 'How are these the hands that were pulling my hair ten minutes ago.' She remembers their kiss goodbye. She remembers getting in her car and feeling so happy she could burst. But then she remembered the life she built. The life she had to go back to her apartment and destroy. Impending doom eclipses her euphoria instantly. She had to bulldoze her own creation and she couldn't bear it.
Auntie Augustina's sigh brings Michonne out of her memories.
"I don't-I can't start again," Michonne admits.
The cicadas buzzed and rattled from the other side of the sunroom.
"You know I met Esther at church Bingo."
Michonne turned to her Auntie, she almost doubled over at the abrupt change of conversation.
"I'd been dragged to church because Big Momma wanted me to find a good christian man with a job working for the state or some bullshit. But I met Esther instead. Some Jewish girl from New York City who moved to New Orleans to play bass in a band. She came to bingo because she heard about a cash prize. Her broke ass needed the money. But her loud ass fit in just fine in this trainwreck of a city."
Michonne laughed, Miss. Esther was loud all the way to the end.
"She found me outside the church after she won her earnings and told me she was buying me a drink to celebrate," Auntie Augustina chuckled, "I would like to say that the rest was history but it wasn't. Because I was fighting with myself and her tooth and nail. I didn't know what I know now back then. I was so concerned with doing everything right."
Auntie Augustina looked up at the now dark sky, tears dot her eyes, "We had 25 good years together. And we would've had a few years more if I stopped being so God damned scared and so God damn stubborn."
Michonne thinks of her Auntie's dedication to Miss Esther during her fight with cancer. Tears start to form in her eyes too. Seeing a love like there's was so rare.
"I ain't telling you what to do. If you wanted that, you would've gone to yo' mama and daddy's house. But I am telling you this. There's a difference between a man who tells you that you're everything and a man who makes you feel like you're everything."
A hot tear escapes Michonne's eyes. Something in her heart fractures. A few more tears follow. She wipes them quickly.
In the month and half that she's been in New Orleans, this is the first time Aunt Augustina has seen her niece cry. And it's all she needed to know. She put her hand on Michonne's knee and gave it a squeeze.
"Plus, ain't you say that this Rick fella had a private jet? Baby, do the math."
Teary eyed and love struck, Michonne let out a yelp of laughter.
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One more chapter left. Be kind to Michonne please she's going through it. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.
Lastly, this chapter is dedicated to FC. You will be missed for all of our days to come. 3