Later on that evening:
John finished brushing his teeth when his cellular device rang. He looked down and read: mom. He glanced over all his missed text messages and groaned.
"I cannot believe I let this happen to me."
He closed his bathroom door and walked into his living room. Raheem Bakare's Portrait of Love played.
He jumped on his couch and started to write all his emotions down.
"It'll be called LVE ruined, but I'll remove the o from love. Yeah... (he sharply exhaled) that's clever. Cause somethings missing. I feel like I missed a primary piece. The o creates the complete thought."
He looked around and was reminded of Nikki.
"She gave me all that I wanted but LVE."
He looked at the detail of his cabinets, and reminisced of their happier moments.
He took a deep breath and ignored another phone call from Denise.
"I'm not ready to face her yet." He stood up and turned off his lights. The warmth of his apartment in the pureness of darkness led him to cry.
"I let the perfect woman take everything from me. My life savings, sex and time. Diamonds on a silver platter weren't fucking enough. She had to steal the whole damn mine. I will never win."
John felt around for his kitchen in the dark. He turned on the light switch, and caught himself in a reflection.
"Look at me... I look like shit. Fuck Nikki!"
He reached into his secret cabinet and grabbed a half of bottle of Black Hennessey. He poured a glass of it over blocks of ice and stared into it. He whispered the words of the song as he rubbed his face.
"Lord, take the pain away."
He took a deep gulp and felt the burning intensity drip down his throat. A shine of white light brushed against his curtains as he heard an engine stop. He glanced out the curtains to watch Denise running towards his front door. He quickly grabbed the bottle and hid it. He grabbed the glass and walked over to the door. She knocked on it.
John said, "Dee, you can't come in. I don't want you to see me like this."