Free Torn Between Two Lovers by Carl Weber

him down now. “Okay, I’m on my way. How much is your bail?”
    â€œA thousand dollars,” he said. My stomach tightened a little at the thought of putting out that much money. “But this guy just told me you can get a bail bondsman and it will cost you only fifteen percent.”
    â€œDon’t worry. I’ll take care of that. Where are they holding you?”
    â€œDanville city jail.”
    â€œAll right. I’m on my way.”
    I was relieved to hear I would have to pay only fifteen percent, but the truth was I would have paid the whole thousand if need be. Guilt, fondness, love…I didn’t quite know how to define what I was feeling, but I definitely cared about Ron, and I wanted to be there for him in his time of need.
    I’d just put my coat on and was about to head out the door when someone rang the doorbell. Without even looking through the peephole, I opened the door, and to my surprise saw Big Poppa standing there with a bottle of wine in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other. He had to pick now to apologize?
    â€œGoing somewhere?” he asked.
    â€œI have to go help a friend.”
    â€œWell, I’ll be here when you get back.” He tried to step inside, but I blocked his way.
    â€œNo, you won’t. I can’t even believe you came over here after that shit you pulled. You didn’t even call me and tell me you were leaving.” I was pissed.
    â€œPlease, what did you expect me to do? Sit there and hold your hand? Those were two of my wife’s friends, and I was supposed to be up in Charlottesville seeing my people. What the hell do you think they would think if they saw me sitting next to you sharing popcorn and a drink?”
    â€œNothing!” I said adamantly. “We were watching Iron Man 2, not Brokeback Mountain . You could have introduced me as your cousin. The least you could have done was circle back and pick my ass up.”
    â€œYou know what, Jerome? You’re right. I fucked up. I’m sorry, okay? I’m very, very sorry.”
    â€œSorry ain’t good enough this time.” I reached for the door.
    â€œOkay, then, how about this? Will this make it up to you?” He held up the bottle. “Your favorite wine. And guess what?” He showed me the bag of groceries, then winked at me. “I got the little scallops you like.” He stepped closer to me. “I’m going to sauté them in a little olive oil, garlic, and butter and serve them over angel-hair pasta. And when we finish eating…” He smirked. “Well, do I have to say it? You know what I do best.” He started swerving his hips like an exotic dancer.
    Shit. I almost dropped my keys. You know I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sound great. Big Poppa was a hell of a cook, and who doesn’t know that there’s no better sex than makeup sex?
    â€œSeriously, Jerome, I’m sorry. Can you let me make it up to you?”
    I bit my lip and silently cursed. Why was it I could never say no to this man?
    Ah, what the hell. An hour for dinner, fifteen or twenty minutes for a quickie, and I could still be in Danville in three hours.
    â€œYou got a lot of making up to do. I hope you’re up to the challenge.”
    He smiled broadly. “Challenge is my middle name.”
    Â 
    I finally made it to the jail in Danville, only fifteen minutes before they shipped Ron over to County. I was thankful to have made it in one piece. Trust me, I’d pushed my poor Lexus to the limit to make the drive in a little less than two hours. I normally didn’t like to drive that fast, but Big Poppa had me leaving my place much later than I expected when he turned what should have been a quick blow job and a good-bye into a mini-marathon. He must have sensed something was wrong, because he didn’t leave my house until sometime after four in the morning. He rarely ever did that unless his wife was out of town, and