April 8th | Atlanta, GA
"Man, getting pussy ain't never been a problem. Quit playin'," Jarvis said with attitude lacing his voice. "Only a sexually frustrated man would act this way. Just saying," his barber teased.
"Shut the fuck up before I punch and hole in your throat. Just shut the fuck up and cut my hair," he said with even more anger this time. "Bitch, don't forget who got the clippers," his barber said.
Jarvis didn't entertain the conversation any much longer and just got on his phone. He opened Instagram and the first thing he saw was Faye's face on a billboard in Buckhead, on a post from a local black excellence page.
"Man, she too fine. I'm married with a kid, but if I wasn't, I would tap that ass. Fasho," his barber said. Jarvis slowly turned to look at him. Then the face of realization plastered on the young barber's face.
"My fault, Man," he said. Jarvis turned back around and looked at his phone. He tapped on the comments and read some of them. They all pretty much said the same thing: congratulating her and saying how much they love her.
He liked the post and moved to the next one.
"Man, can you hurry up? I got training," Jarvis said, looking at his apple watch. The barber paused. "Don't rush perfection, Nigga," he said. However, he did speed up a bit.
___
"Good! Weak spots, don't forget!" Jarvis' trainer commented on Jarvis' performance. Jarvis kept on punching the dummy, but he invisioned another opponent.
He let go of all the pent up anger.
The ring was the one place where he could let go of everything. Some things clung onto him, but he was working on getting rid that too.
It was either deadlifting or boxing. Both kept him active and he was able to stop thinking about what was fucking with his mind.
Lots of times , old memories, good and bad, popped in his head like a lightbulb. Paige, other women, his family, and most recently: Faye.
As the thoughts poured into his mind, he punched the shit out of the dummy. Thank God it wasn't a real person. He hit it so hard that it tumbled onto the ground.
When it fell, he stopped.
"You good, Tank? You just knocked the fucking dummy over," his trainer said as he got in the ring to pick it up.
"Yeah."
___
"I'm on my lunch break, so I don't need this to be long," Faye said with a chuckle so she didn't sound rude. "Faye, we have a 2 hour session," Dr. Karter said, with a blank-faced expression.
"Well, today, I only have an hour. I'm always busy," Faye shrugged before putting her phone on DND. "Faye, we can't do all of this in an hour. You have to make an exception at work so that we can help you, mentally," the woman said.
"I can't do that. I don't need 2 hours to talk about feelings. I feel just fine. I talk to God every day. I'm only here because I legally have to be here. Now, with all due respect, Dr. Karter, we're wasting time," Faye said and crossed her legs on the couch.
