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My lover.
My best friend.
The woman I loved getting freaky with. Loved baring my naked soul to.
Gone.
I swallow back a wave of emotions, glancing out into the Caribbean Sea.
Burying Marika was probably the hardest thing besides having to identify her body that I’ve ever had to do. I’m still shaken by it.
Still haunted by it.
Still fucked up over it.
All I’ve felt is emptiness, nothing but overwhelming numbness.
That broad, Ramona Ramirez—with all of her fuckin’ aliases: Marisol Rodriguez, Alexandria Maples, and whoever the fuck else—had done this shit before. Stalk a muhfucka. Get the dick ‘n’ get nutty over it. That Alexander Maples cat, the one she kept rattling on about over the radio. She’d shot him several times and left dude for dead, all because he wasn’t checkin’ for her romantically. Fuckin’ craziness, yo. She was on the run for over three months before they snatched her ass up in Arizona, where she was stalking some other muhfucka. So how the fuck she only served three years for that shit is beyond me. Good behavior or some other shit.
I sigh, reaching over for my drink and taking a sip. I swallow, then lick my lips, setting the cool drink back up on the small table. I reach over and grab the coconut oil and slather the front of my body with it, stretching my hand over my limp dick, oiling it up. Here I am stretched out one of the world’s most beautiful nude beaches in Venezuela…alone.
This shit’s not a good feeling. But I needed to get away from the media, from the paparazzi, from the memories. I needed to get from under the scrutiny, and the gossip, and the speculation about Marika and my sex life.
“Were the two of you in an open marriage?”
“Is it true your wife was bisexual?”
“Did the two of you engage in the swingers’ lifestyle?”
“Rumors have been floating around for years that you are also bisexual. Care to comment?”
Fuck outta here.
Like I’d told one reporter, “Marika and I loved each other, unconditionally. We held no secrets. And we had no inhibitions. Our public life is open for the public to pull apart. But our private life, how we got down behind closed doors, is not open for discussion. Never has been. And it never will be. Now respect the fact that I’m grieving the loss of my wife, and fall the fuck back.”
And that ended that.
Will I ever publicly disclose being bisexual? Nah. For what? That shit’s no one’s business unless I’m tryna build a life with you. Otherwise that shit is on a need-to-know basis.
I close my eyes. Allow the blazing sun to beat across my naked body.
I miss you so fuckin’ much, baby…
“Excuse me? Hablas español?”
I raise my head and slowly lift my shades up over my head, and use my hand to shield my eyes from the sun. My breath catches. There’s a curvaceous beauty standing in front of me.
Her bronze skin glitters under the rays.
“Nah, I don’t.”
“Oh, okay. You mind if I take this chair?” she says, pointing to the beach chair beside me.
I allow my eyes to rake up and down he
r body. Butt-ass naked, titties melon-ripe ‘n’ juicy, hips real thick, waist nice ‘n’ tight…she’s bad as fuck!
There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes.
