Page 1 of Broken Clocks
Prologue – Silas
Charmaine’s fingers dug into my countertop like she was trying to crack the marble. The pressure had turned her knuckles dark. Her chest rose and fell like she was counting breaths. Her pretty brown skin flushed nearly purple.
This was why I didn’t do relationships. Angry women were scary.
“I know how the world sees me,” I said, leaning against the fridge. “Naomi calls me a fuckboy to my face. My baby momma—” She was fussing at me about being more mature. To her, that meant settling down, having vacations with her parents, cutting off my friends.
She wanted to fix me. To sand down my edges until I fit her blueprint of what a “real man” was supposed to be.
I wasn’t doing that for her.
“You don’t have a baby momma, Silas.” Her voice was brittle.
I grinned. There it was. The reason we couldn’t be together. Charmaine couldn’t even love me right—she wouldn’t play along with the delusion.
“What does Angel do when I say, ‘Hey, baby momma, where’s my son?’”
Her top lip curled. “She hands you Ekon. Or tells you he’s at.”
“Exactly. That makes them my son. My baby momma.”
She crossed her arms so tight her biceps strained the sleeves of her dashiki. “Why do you say it like that?Baby momma.”
“You want me to use the King’s English? ‘Esteemed mother ofmy progeny’?”
“You don’t have a child, Silas.”
I flexed my jaw. “Ekon’s mine. You don’t have to contribute genetically to love a child like your own.”
Her eyes flickered with pity or irritation, whatever.
“So, I’m just supposed to be cool with you calling another womanbaby momma?”
“I’m not fucking Angel.” I paused. “Though I would. Why does it matter what I call her as long as Cassius is okay with it? But if given the chance I would."
“It’s about respect,” she rebutted.
I barked a laugh, purposely playing as if I didn't understand what she was saying. "Respect? Angel’s one of five of the only people on this planet I’d bleed for. You’re mad I call her ‘baby momma,’ but she’s one of the reasons I’m growing. She deserves respect. She's rooted for you and you know it. Where's your loyalty, Charmaine? Or is that incense smoke fogging up your vision?"
She jabbed her finger at me like it was a knife. “I was talking about respect forme. You can’t mention Angel without adding how much youwanther.”
That was all by design. I’d been planting these seeds for months. After Solomon cosplayed Jack Torrance, I’d realized something… I didn’t want Charmaine’s incense and forced Zen, her disappointed sighs.
I wanted toburnfor someone. To lose my goddamn mind if they walked away. With Charmaine? My dick barely got hard for her anymore.
Maybe that wasn’t her fault. Maybe I’d fucked too many women. Maybe I just wanted a woman I didn’t have to fuck to tolerate. Maybe I’d woken up one morning and finally grown the fuck up.
“Look, I don’t want to hurt you. I care for you, but—”
Her palm cracked against my cheek so hard my vision blurred.
For a second, all I heard was ringing. I touched my lip, came away with blood.Damn.“What happened tonamaste? You’re dressed like Erykah Badu but hitting me like Mike Tyson?”
Her breath came ragged. “Irisked my sobrietyfor you. I could’ve been with Cassius.”
I licked the blood off my teeth and laughed. “No, you couldn’t have.”
She stiffened, narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”
