Still a Friend of Mine is a fresh, enthralling, and witty tale that follows the journey of two best friends from college through their scandals, dating escapades, and family drama until a man comes between them. It begs the questions...What’s more important true friendship or true love? Is it ever okay to date your best friend’s ex?Cheyenne Tate is privileged, ambitious and focused on becoming a Supreme Court justice, but in her personal life, she has trouble maintaining a long-term relationship as she goes from boyfriend to boyfriend. That is until she finds her soul mate-her best friend Aja’s ex-boyfriend.Aja Braxton is beautiful, endearing, and warmhearted on the outside, but inside she harbors the pain and disappointment of being betrayed by her mother, father, and everyone close to her. She dreams of a life in Paris working in the fashion industry. But after tragedy strikes, she abruptly breaks up with the boyfriend she’s been with since she was 13 years old and moves to New York, only to find more tragedy.Jennifer Harper probes the lives of two compelling characters who are driven to pursue ambitious goals in spite of daunting obstacles, while trying to figure out the balance between loyalty, love...and friendship.

Still A Friend of Mine

By Jennifer Harper

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 Jennifer Harper
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4490-7245-2

Chapter One

It was Valentine's Day. Normally, Cheyenne Tate hated Valentine's Day because she was usually boyfriendless. The times she did have a boyfriend, he usually fell short of her romantic expectations. Except that year Cheyenne's high school sweetheart, Jarvis gave her a dozen roses from Kroger's and a box of Hershey's kisses. It was a sweet thought. But this time, today, she knew it would be different.

For the last five months, Cheyenne had been dating the handsome, suave, debonair, Victor Morton and he was on his way over to take her out for a night of dinner, dancing, and romance. She was so excited and about to burst because she had not seen him in two weeks. He had been so busy with work that he had to cancel out on Cheyenne the last two times they where supposed to hook up. She probably would have given him attitude, but she was trying to act maturely and be understanding. Yes, she was a 20-year old college junior attending Hoyt College-a highly revered historically black college located in Atlanta, Georgia-and he was a distinguished 38-year old attorney, but she was trying really hard not to let their age difference be a problem for him. This was the first time she had dated an older man and to let her tell it, it was so different from dating guys her age who only had sex, sports, and partying on the brain. Victor was so intelligent, and their conversations were so deep. He challenged her-in a good way. Cheyenne loved who he was, and loved who she became when they were together.

Victor was a lawyer, Cheyenne was pre-law, her father was a judge, and her mother and uncle were both lawyers. It didn't take a psychoanalyst to conclude that her attraction to Victor had something to do with his occupation. If it was examined further, that psychoanalyst would also conclude that since she lost her father when she was a senior in high school, her dating an older man, was a search for a father figure. Cheyenne didn't like that idea though because her father was her hero and no one could ever measure up to him or replace him.

Cheyenne stood in her bra and panties as she put the finishing touches on her make-up. She tried to hurry because Victor would be there any minute. The doorbell rang. She quickly slipped into her black halter dress and fierce new sling back pumps and hurried to the door. She opened the door and Victor stood in the doorway dressed in a conservative business suit and tie and holding a shopping bag.

"Hey, Cheyenne. Happy Valentine's," Victor said while checking her out.

"Hey, you," she replied, flashing a warm smile.

"Damn baby girl, you're looking sexy," Victor said as he walked in and closed the door.

Cheyenne was thrilled that he came bearing gifts, but she expected no less from him on Valentine's Day. Victor moved in to kiss her hello. As their tongues were tangoing, she fantasized about the diamond earrings, or tennis bracelet, or pearl necklace, or maybe-dare she dream-engagement ring that was wrapped in the bag. Oh, how she loved her man.

"Let me grab my coat and I'll be ready to go."

"Um, we're staying in tonight. I brought dinner, wine, and a little surprise for you," Victor informed her.

"But you promised me we were going out to dinner. Look at me, I got all dressed up," she said. Cheyenne was pissed and thought, I'm looking all beautiful and sexy in my new dress and he was trying to pull this shit again.

"I've been in the office since six this morning and I'm tired. I just want to have a quiet, relaxing evening with my girl. I know you're still young, but you need to understand that when a man works as hard as I do, sometimes he just needs to chill. I'm not twenty years old, trying to get my party on."

Here he goes again dropping the age card. Cheyenne felt like bursting into tears, but that would be immature and she didn't want him to breakup with her because she was too young to handle an adult relationship. So once again, she sucked it up and concealed her disappointment.

Victor made himself at home as he went into her kitchen, opened the bottle of wine, poured himself a glass, and took a big gulp. "I have a present for you," he said.

"You do?"

"Cheyenne, you know I'm not gonna forget my baby on Valentine's Day."

She joked, "You better not." But inside she was still stinging about not going out.

Victor went into the bag and pulled out a gift box. It was too big for jewelry, but it was beautifully wrapped in red paper and a satin white ribbon. She knew whatever it was, she was going to love it. Cheyenne opened the box to find a red push up bra and garter belt. Gee, what I always wanted-ho gear, she thought trying to suppress her disappointment.

"Why don't you put it on and model it for me?" he asked her.

Cheyenne forced a smile. She knew she had to keep her man happy. What the hell, it might be fun to be a ho for a day in the privacy of my own apartment, she thought. So she went into her bedroom and changed. Feeling like a stripper without a pole, she returned to the living room to model for her man.

Victor had gotten comfortable on the sofa and removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie. His lust-filled eyes looked Cheyenne up and down, while he massaged his crotch. He motioned for her to come over and join him on the couch and she obliged. They kissed passionately while Victor dropped his pants. Victor's kisses moved from her mouth to her neck, and she started to tingle all over. Maybe staying home wasn't such a bad idea after all, Cheyenne thought.

Victor gripped the back of her neck and started pushing her head down. What the hell was he doing? He had never done this before. Cheyenne opened her eyes to see Victor holding his big black hard penis in the other hand. Oh ... now I get it, she thought.

Pre-Victor, Cheyenne never performed oral sex on a guy. She guessed it really turned men on. It wasn't that she was against it, but just didn't really know what to do. But that wasn't a problem anymore because as she went down on Victor, he provided instructions. "Lick it, lick it, ooh suck it, ooh yeah, that's good, jack it jack it, jack and suck, jack and suck," he directed her.

When Victor had enough, he stood Cheyenne up, turned her around and bent her over a chair and entered her from behind, doggy style. Again, she knew she lacked experience, but shouldn't there be more touching and caressing-something to get her ready for the big one, before ramming it in? She felt like she was in Colorado and just hung out with Kobe Bryant. Victor came in less than a minute. Thank heavens for small blessings-at least this time, since she wasn't having any fun yet.

Now that the quickie was out of the way and they wouldn't be getting their dancing on, Cheyenne conceded that at least they could have dinner, watch a movie, and cuddle. She loved to cuddle with Victor. His arms were so strong and she felt safe and happy when they were around her. She went into her bedroom and put on a robe. When she came back into the living room, Victor had his coat on and stood by the door.

"Sorry to cut our night short, but I gotta get back to the office," he said to her.

"Are you kidding me? We haven't even had dinner yet. I thought you were staying the night." Damn being mature. She couldn't hold back her emotions any longer and started crying.

"What's wrong?" Victor asked.

"You never take me out, I haven't seen you in two weeks, it's Valentine's Day, and you come over here for like ten minutes and leave. That's what's wrong." She had to let him have it. Victor wrapped his arms around her in an attempt to comfort her, but she continued to weep like a baby.

"You know what, you're right," he said.

"I know I am."

"Look here, I have a conference this weekend in Miami. Why don't you come with me?" Victor asked.

"For real?" Cheyenne's water works came to an abrupt halt.

Victor smiled at her with his big brown eyes. "Yeah. We'll hang out on South Beach, hit a couple of clubs, and just kick it."

Sun, sand, and a drink in her hand with her man, she was down.

Two days later, Cheyenne went shopping at Lenox Mall for clothes to take on her weekend trip to Miami. It was times like this when she could use a close girlfriend to dish about Victor and to help her pick out the right outfits.

Hoyt College had a great pre-law program and Cheyenne loved her school and everything it had to offer, except the freshman dorms. Label her bourgie, but she could not imagine being cramped up in a four-by-four with a strange roommate even, if she would be there for only two semesters. Plus, her mother said she wouldn't buy her a car until her sophomore or junior year. Bullshit. Cheyenne was going to school in Atlanta, Georgia-Hot Lanta-the "A"-Motown of the South-the dirty, dirty-home of where the playas play. Of course she needed a car.

It took some creativity on her part, but she did what any college freshman faced with this dilemma would do, she forgot to mail the check for the dorm fees until way past the deadline. So she had no choice but to live in an off campus apartment, and since she was living off campus, she needed a car to get to and from school. She didn't feel guilty. It wasn't as if her mother couldn't afford it.

Unfortunately, the trade off for living in her trendy loft apartment in downtown Atlanta and driving a brand new Acura was missing out on the 'campus lifestyle' where life-long friendships were made. Cheyenne had acquaintances that she met in classes or at study groups, but no true confidants, home girls or aces. Who would have known that the choices she made at seventeen as she prepared for college would result in her lack of female companionship?

Cheyenne had been in the mall for hours because it was so hard to find resort wear in February. Thank God for the nice sales lady at Bloomingdale's who helped her find the perfect bikini, sarong, and sundress. Cheyenne knew Victor was going to love her in them.

As she walked through the mall, she debated whether or not she had time to look for a new robe because she really needed to get home and finish her paper for Sociology so she could have a carefree weekend. Suddenly, she spotted a man who reminded her of Victor. His back was to her, but he seemed so familiar. The shape of his head. The leather jacket. The harder she looked the more and more he looked like Victor. But she knew it couldn't be him-that man was with a woman and two small kids.

Cheyenne started walking towards the Victor look-a-like and the woman and two kids when they turned in her direction. It was Victor! What was he doing here with that woman? Who are those kids? Victor and Cheyenne made eye contact. He looked shocked to see her. He quickly turned around, grabbed the woman's hand, headed in the opposite direction and called out to the kids, "Tatum and Troy come on, we're going this way."

"Victor, Victor," Cheyenne yelled out.

He ignored her, but the lady turned around and waited for her to catch up to them. Victor tried to pull her along, but she resisted.

Cheyenne approached the foursome. Victor looked nervous, as one of the kids tugged on his leg. Cheyenne tried to remain cool. "Hey, Victor," she said.

Victor was speechless, but the woman smiled at her. "Hello."

"Oh, hi," Victor said to Cheyenne then turned to the woman. "Honey, this is ... what's your name again?"

"Cheyenne Tate," she calmly replied.

"Oh that's right, Miss Tate. This is my wife, Lorna and kids, Tatum and Troy," Victor said cordially. "My firm represents Cheyenne's father," he added.

Victor's wife smiled at Cheyenne, "Nice to meet you."

Wife. Kids. Cheyenne stood there speechless and devastated.

They say that revenge was a dish best served cold. Well then call Cheyenne 'ice bitch' because she was determined to get hers. It had been a week since her enlightenment at the mall. Not only had Victor not called her to explain, he had the nerve to block her number so she couldn't call him anymore. And of course every time she called the firm, he was in a meeting.

Cheyenne sat in her car in the parking deck. She was at the Proscenium building in Midtown, the office building where Victor worked. He was in the office until six or seven most evenings. Won't he be surprised tonight? Cheyenne thought to herself.

She was equipped with a switchblade and a paint scraper. When she was sure there was no one else around, Cheyenne got out of her car and approached Victor's new Mercedes. She systematically slit each of his tires. She then carved FUCK YOU on the hood of his car. Along with the message, she left her red push-up bra and garter belt on the hood. Cheyenne felt like Angela Bassett, 'exhaling' all over his shit.

Chapter Two

Aja Braxton fumbled with her Louis Vuitton weekender bag as she climbed the stairs to the front door of her family home in Biddleville. Hers was one of the oldest predominantly black neighborhoods in Charlotte, North Carolina. Biddleville had an intellectual atmosphere and vibe to it. The residents included college students, professors, alumni, and also public school teachers and the neighborhood was home to Johnson C. Smith University, a historically black college. Like many neighborhoods near the downtown area of a major metropolitan city, Biddleville was going through a transition and revitalization. The same was true of the newly renovated two-story house where Aja grew up. Her father, now deceased and her mother had purchased the home before she was born. Aja's stepfather and some of his construction buddies renovated the kitchen, bathrooms, light fixtures, flooring, and added on a sunroom.

Aja was happy to get away from the confines of her dormitory room at Hoyt College, if only for the weekend. Her room on campus was like Grand Central Station and she often contemplated taking the door off the hinges because people were always in and out of her room. Everyone tended to migrate to Aja and wanted to be her friend because of her infectious smile, huge heart and giving spirit, which she inherited from her mother. But sometimes Aja just needed her privacy.

Aja walked in the door and was greeted by her seven-year-old tan Cocker Spaniel, Buffy. "Hey, Sweetie, you missed me? I missed you too." She petted and kissed the dog. Excited, Buffy wagged his tail and soaked up all the love Aja gave him. Aja put down her bag and walked over to the antique credenza in the foyer where the mail was stored. To her joy, she found a stack of her favorite European fashion magazines waiting for her. She loved to explore the latest fashion trends, make-up techniques, and to get lost in the majestic lifestyles of world-traveling socialites and celebrities.

From the flat screen television in the living room, voices of sportscasters filtered loudly throughout the house. Aja entered the living room to find her stepfather, Mel, in his boxers. Mel was napping, lying on his side with his beer belly hanging off the sofa. Aja found the remote on the coffee table and turned down the volume, which caused Mel to stir and wake up. "Girl, what are you doing home?"

Home. That was a word Aja no longer took for granted. The sight of Mel was an instant reminder of that.

"I'm just here for the weekend. I rode up with a friend," Aja said. "Where's Mama?"

"She's at Miles' basketball game."

"And you're not? You couldn't go and support your own son?"

"You're starting to sound like your mother." Mel sat up and picked up a t-shirt from the floor and put in on. "Do me a favor and run in there and get me a beer." Mel grabbed the remote and started channel surfing.

Aja retrieved a beer from the kitchen, returned to the living room, and handed it to Mel. "Can I borrow your car?" she asked. Mel ignored her. Aja couldn't stand her stepfather and for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why her mother would stay married to the jerk. Sure, he had a good job with the post office, he worked hard and made a decent living, but once he came home, he was pitiful. He drank too much and didn't spend any time with her 12-year-old half-brother, Miles. What her mother saw in him, Aja didn't know. "Mel, can I borrow your car?" she asked again trying to suppress her irritation.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Still A Friend of Mineby Jennifer Harper Copyright © 2010 by Jennifer Harper . Excerpted by permission.
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