Read Online A Heart Not Easily Broken (The Butterfly Memoirs) by M. J. Kane - Free Book Online Page A

friends and still go out. We’ll just leave out sex.”
    We stared at each other. His smile was halfcocked, eyes intent on mine. Even though he didn’t speak, the unspoken words, for now , echoed in my head. 
     
     

Chapter 7
     
    Beep…beep…beep…
    I growled and slapped off the alarm clock. The image of naked Ebony dissipated. So much for my fantasy.
    I rolled out of bed, grabbed the remote, and turned on the morning news. Damn, another forest fire. The smoke mixed with smog would wreak havoc on my bronchitis, which in turn hurt my wallet. At least there was an alternate stream of revenue.
    Taking the day off was not in my vocabulary. I had too much stored up energy. Since there was no woman in my bed, it was time to get moving.
    I showered, and then grabbed my day planner and rescheduled my customers. Two hundred dollars was now out of reach. I spied the huge red circle on my calendar. Rent was due this week. At least I had earned my part.
    Times like this made me wish my father was like Javan’s. Doctor Simmons was a psychiatrist who sent money anytime his son asked for it. He’d been doing it since we were in college. It had been cool when Javan helped me out when my funds ran low. It was one reason why I rented a house with him. His father would always have his back. We were adults now, careers established, and Javan made good money. It was way past time for him to quit relying on his father. My attention went to the next red circle; the deadline for purchasing my guitar neared. The money I spent on the date with Ebony set me back, but it was well worth it. Just thinking of her made me smile. Yeah, I’d definitely do it again.
    In the meantime, I needed to make money. Several people asked for private guitar lessons, but my busy schedule didn’t allow time for teaching. The smog alert for the next few days gave me time to spare.
    After scheduling two students for lessons in the evening, I grabbed my guitar and sheet music to work on the song I composed for the band.
    An hour later my roommate knocked on my door. I put the guitar pick in between my teeth and made a notation on my sheet music. “What’s up?”
    Javan leaned against the doorjamb. “You got a minute?”
    “Sure.” I set the guitar in its stand and reached for my bottle of water.
    “Did Yasmine Phillips call you about her yard?”
    “Yeah, on Monday. She wasn’t there, but her roommate was.”
    “Oh, yeah? Which one?”
    “Ebony.”
    Javan whistled. “Man, did you check her out? She is fine. I mean, with her body… I’d love to hit that. Yasmine’s my girl, but we’re not exclusive,” he smirked. “She isn’t looking for commitment, just a good time, you know what I mean?” He paused, eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Hmm…if Ebony is like that…” His eyes lit up. “Damn, that would be one helluva threesome.”
    It took everything to control my mouth. I could understand why Ebony felt uncomfortable around him. He wouldn’t care that she’s an intelligent woman, because he’d be unable to see past her shapely behind.
    “She’s not a ‘ho, J.” I twisted the cap back on the empty bottle with a vengeance and pitched it into the garbage.
    We had occasional testosterone-based disagreements, but we always worked through them. But when it came to the treatment of women, we’d long since agreed to disagree.
    Javan believed women were good for three things: satisfying his sexual needs, cooking, and bearing his children. Nothing more, nothing less.
    The only thing we had in common was our height. We’re both six-two, though he had a good twenty pounds of muscle on me. Women loved his dark brown skin, hazel eyes, and shoulder-length dreads. He visited the barbershop weekly to keep his goatee trimmed and kept a Jamaican beautician on call to keep his hair done just right. Of course, she was also one of his hook-ups.
    When it came to clothes, Javan was strictly GQ, everything top of the line. He was so stuck on himself it still