Private Property

by La Jill Hunt

  “It’s not really my party,” he told her, placing his hand on her thigh, which was exposed from the short dress she wore. His gaze followed down her long legs to her feet, and he fought the urge to imagine her naked in bed wearing only her red bottom stilettos.

  “Really? Someone told me that this was a party just for you, a homecoming party.” Scorpio shrugged. “That’s not true?”

  “If that were the case, you wouldn’t be crashing. You would be an invited guest,” he said.

  She tossed her head back, laughing flirtatiously, and leaned over, giving him a sneak peek at her ample cleavage. Deciding to take a chance to see if she was really coming on to him, Malachi moved his hand a little higher up her thigh. Scorpio didn’t move him away and began swaying to the beat of the song that was coming through the speakers.

  “I love this song. Let’s dance,” she said.

  “Naw, I’m good,” Malachi told her. “You want something to drink?”

  “Did you even have to ask?” Scorpio took the glass he was holding and drank all of the brown liquor.

  “Damn.” He laughed.

  “Can I get a refill?” Scorpio said, looking around for the waitress. “So how long were you in the joint?” she asked him.

  “About a year and a half.”

  “A year and a half with no women? Hmmmmm.” She gave him a seductive look.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Malachi asked.

  “Scorpio!” an older woman said, attempting to get into the VIP area. The large security guy near the entrance stopped her before she could get any closer.

  “Oh, goodness, here comes the party crasher for real.” Scorpio sighed.

  “What are you doing? I’ve been looking all over for you. We’re ready to go!” the woman said, glaring at the group of men in the reserved area, including Malachi. Two other girls appeared next to her along with a skinny guy who was clearly gay. Malachi recognized one of the other girls as a swimsuit model as well, but he couldn’t remember her name.

  “So go, Dina! I’m not ready. We just got here!” Scorpio said. “I’m not leaving.”

  “See, Marcelo, this is why I told you and Dina I didn’t want to come with her. She never knows when it’s time to go. I’m leaving. I have a shoot in the morning I gotta get ready for,” the model chick said.

  “Come on, Scorp. We can come back tomorrow night. We’ve gotta go,” Marcelo pleaded.

  “You guys go ahead. I’m good,” Scorpio told them.

  “Fine,” the model chick said and turned to walk off.

  “Wait, Natalie! We can’t just leave her,” Dina told them.

  Natalie Kincaid! That’s her name, Malachi thought as he continued watching the drama.

  “Why not?” Natalie said. “She’s grown, and she drove.”

  “But she’s drunk,” Marcelo said. “Do you think that’s safe? This is why I told you to call Cheddar.”

  “Fuck Cheddar! And carry your asses!”

  The four-person entourage shook their heads and departed, leaving Scorpio on Malachi’s lap, requesting a refill of what was now her drink.

  “We need to take some pics! Oh, damn! My phone is dead. Lemme see your phone!” Scorpio leaned over and yelled at Hakeem, who seemed to be impressed with the petite, big-busted stripper who was rubbing on his chest. He reached into his pocket and handed Scorpio his iPhone. She held it up and commanded Malachi to pose.

  “I don’t do pictures, ma.” Malachi shook his head and tried to block the phone. Scorpio pressed her body against Malachi and kissed him fully on the mouth, gently sucking his bottom lip in such a manner that he didn’t even care that she was taking a picture of them as she did so. Afterward, she smiled and said, “Say cheese.”

  He stared at her, eyebrows raised, and said, “Cheese.”

  They continued drinking, laughing, and feeling on one another until Malachi’s hard-on was no longer caused by the strippers they came to see.

  Scorpio leaned over, stroked his crotch, and said, “Let’s get out of here. Take me home?”

  Malachi shook his head. “Sorry, ma. I ain’t drive.”

  Scorpio reached into her cleavage and pulled out a Porsche key fob. “That’s not a problem.”

  “I can take her home if you want me to,” Hakeem offered.

  “I don’t want you taking me nowhere,” Scorpio snapped. “I want Malachi! It’s his night.”

  Malachi considered her surprisingly bold and appealing offer. His ego quickly told him the chances of him ever getting the opportunity to sleep with a supermodel again would be damn near nonexistent, so if ever he wanted it to happen, he’d better do it now.

  It didn’t take him long to decide, especially with Scorpio whispering in his ear what she wanted to do to him. He told Trey and his boys he would catch up with them later, before he gathered up his newly acquired date. As they stood up, Scorpio stumbled, and Hakeem helped Malachi walk her out of the club. Her custom-colored pewter four-door Porsche was parked right near the door, and Malachi helped her inside before sliding into the driver’s seat. The feel of the leather, the sleekness of the steering wheel, and the enticement of the glowing dashboard was almost too much for him to take. He hadn’t been behind the wheel of a car in almost two years. He inhaled the scent and looked over at Scorpio, who was so drunk that she was already nodding off.

  “I’m staying at the Hyatt. Is that cool? he asked her.

  “No, take me home!” she told him.

  “I don’t know where you live. I can take you home in the morning,” Malachi said.

  Scorpio hit some buttons on the screen of the dash, typed, and then loudly said, “Home.” The GPS map appeared, and the computer voice instructed him.

  He saw that it was a forty-five-minute drive and started to suggest again that they go back to his room at the Hyatt, but decided against it and just headed to where she wanted to go. Scorpio reached under the seat and pulled out a plastic bag containing what looked like five or six perfectly rolled joints, and she lit one up. After taking a puff and inhaling, she passed it to him. He held it to his lips, taking a pull and allowing the smoke to fill his lungs.

  “Good stuff, huh?” Scorpio smiled.

  Malachi just nodded and passed it back to her. She turned on the radio, and old-school rap serenaded them while he drove. They made small talk until Scorpio fell asleep. When he finally arrived in her neighborhood, he pulled in and noticed that although there was a security booth, no one was in it, so he proceeded. There were still houses being built, but the ones that were already completed were huge. He continued until he got to the one that the GPS told him belonged to Scorpio.

  “Hey, we’re here.” He nudged her, but she didn’t move. “Scorpio, we’re at your crib. Come on. Wake up!”

  Scorpio held her head up for a second, pointed to a black plastic square over the visor, and mumbled, “Garage.”

  Malachi was confused until he saw that on the other side of the circular driveway there was what looked like a four-car garage, and he drove over. He hit the plastic remote, and the garage opened. He pulled inside and parked beside a large SUV and a motorcycle. He tried once again to wake Scorpio, but she was beyond wasted. He knew he would have to carry her.

  He got out and walked to the passenger’s side of the car, lifting her out and tossing her over his shoulder. The short skirt of her dress rose all the way up, answering the question he had been pondering all night long: she did not have on any underwear. Her perfectly shaped derriere was fully exposed, and he bit his lip in excitement. There were two doors, but one didn’t have a window, so he knew that door led to the inside of her home. He then realized he didn’t have a key.

  “Scorpio, you gotta wake up. Where is your house key? How are we gonna get inside?”

  Scorpio awakened but didn’t answer. She just pointed to the door and laughed.

  “The key,” Malachi said again, trying not to get frustrated. He turned the doorknob, expecting it to be locked. Instead, it easily turned, an
d he pushed the door open. Once inside, he heard a beeping sound and panicked. “Scorpio, the alarm.”

  Scorpio wiggled out of his arms and stumbled over to a nearby wall, where she punched in a code. The beeping stopped. Relieved, Malachi closed the door as Scorpio turned on a light.

  “Come on,” Scorpio said, pulling him down the hall and into the foyer, where there was a huge double staircase. She tried to make it up a few steps but nearly fell, so again he picked her up into his arms and carried her. When they got to the top, she pointed to a door at the end of the hallway. He entered through the darkness into what he assumed was her bedroom and placed her on the huge bed in the middle of the floor. She scrambled out of her dress and lay naked across the black duvet, wearing only the red bottoms.

  Malachi looked up at the ceiling and mouthed, “Thank you, God.” He took off his own shirt. Just as he climbed beside her, Scorpio jumped up and ran out. He was confused until he heard her heaving and gagging. He waited until it stopped and called out, “Scorpio. You okay?”

  When he didn’t get an answer, he walked into her bathroom and found her lying on the floor beside the commode, her face covered in sweat. He sat her up, found a nearby washcloth hanging on the rack, wet it with cool water, and then gently washed her face. Lifting her up, he carried her back to the bed, took her shoes off, and put her under the covers.

  From the minifridge in the corner, he got a bottle of water and made her drink some. She tried to resist but finally took a few sips.

  “Thanks,” she smiled and whispered just before closing her eyes.

  Moments later, he heard her snoring. He lay across the foot of the bed, falling asleep himself. He stayed there until waking up and wondering where the hell he was. Recollecting what had happened a few hours before, he looked around for Scorpio, but there was no sign of her. He went into the bathroom, but she wasn’t there either.

  “Scorpio?” he called out. Hearing a noise coming from outside the open bedroom door, he went to try to find out where she could have gone. He walked down the staircase and suddenly smelled smoke.

  He called out again, but there was no answer. The smell of smoke was getting thicker. Malachi knew that he had to find Scorpio and get them out of there quickly. He searched the massive home in the darkness caused by the combination of smoke and night, going in and out of doors, trying to breathe. “Scorpio!”

  He finally heard coughing from nearby and ran to the cracked door of what he remembered led to the garage. He opened it, and flames came shooting out at him. He could make out a shadowy figure crawling toward him. Scorpio!

  He reached for her, the fire searing his arm and his eyes tearing up from both the pain and the smoke. Malachi stretched his arm farther until he felt her hand in his, and he yanked her body to him. She cried out as he lifted her through the door and headed to what he hoped was safety.

  Chapter 8

  King Douglas

  “Oh, my God! Okay, I know I’m not supposed to do this, but can I please have your autograph?”

  King Douglas looked up from the receipt he was signing and smiled at the young girl behind the counter of the rental car agency. He had just come off a four-hour flight from L.A. and was jetlagged, but he always made time for his fans. Even if he didn’t have time, he would have made an exception for her. She was just his type: young, vibrant, and sexy. Even in the collared shirt and fitted black pants she wore, he could make out her curves. Her cute face was set off by long locs, and her thick-rimmed glasses couldn’t hide her dark, seductive eyes.

  “Of course,” King told her. “Do you have something for me to sign?”

  The woman reached into the drawer and handed him a piece of paper. “You can sign this. I can’t believe this.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Nikita. N-i-k-i-t-a.”

  “That’s pretty, like you,” he said and slid the paper back to her. “Tell you what: since you’re so pretty, do you have a cell phone?”

  “Yes.” She nodded.

  He looked around to make sure there was no one else around and said, “Grab it. We can take a selfie if you want to.”

  She squealed and ran through a door behind the counter, returning within seconds, iPhone in hand. “This is un-freaking-believable. My friends are going to die! I’m about to die.”

  “Please don’t do that,” King laughed and posed with his arm around her as they both smiled for the camera.

  “Thank you so much, Mr. Douglas. I have you all set in one of our premium vehicles, a BMW X5. Here is the key, and if you take a right out the front door, you should see it right there,” Nikita said.

  “Thank you, Ms. Nikita.”

  “Actually, my friends call me Niki.”

  “So can I call you that?” King gave her one of his intense stares, a look that said, “I want you. I need you. And I will have you.” It was the same look he would give the camera when he was singing one of his platinum love ballads while filming a video or singing center stage to some lucky fan who was pulled on stage during a sold-out concert.

  That was back in the day when music had meaning and music videos had storylines, love interests, and dancing. Nowadays, all a song had to have in order to be a hit was a hot beat, a rapper with what was called “swag,” and a record label willing to put millions behind pushing nonsensical words to whoever would listen. Nowadays, it didn’t take hard work, endless nights in the studio, and months and months of touring and talent to become a platinum artist. All it took was a hook, a YouTube channel, and enough followers on Instagram to get people’s attention.

  It was nothing like when he and his boys dedicated their lives to their craft and became R&B icons the Hot Boyz. From the time they were signed at sixteen, King, along with his boys Steve, Kazz, and Tony, worked diligently to create music, produce songs, hit the road, make appearances, and perfect everything needed to become true artists.

  And that was why, more than twenty-five years later, he was able to have young tenderonis like Nikita ask for his autograph, stare back into his eyes, and tell him, “You can call me whatever you like as long as you call me.”

  King laughed and watched as she wrote her name and number on the back of the business card for the rental car company. He told her not to be surprised if he did call later on, and she said she would be waiting.

  Then, even though it was late at night, he put on his Salvatore Ferragamo sunglasses, grabbed his Louis Vuitton duffel bag, and headed out to the dimly lit parking lot.

  Once inside the luxury SUV, he tried to decide what to do next. The sole purpose of this last-minute trip back to his hometown of Norfolk was because Melissa, the mother of his son, told him she had an emergency and needed to talk to him face-to-face. The two of them had a cordial relationship, and she never put any unreasonable demands on him, mainly because he took great care of their 14-year-old son, Knight. He loved her, but their love affair ended almost four years after Knight was born, especially when it was discovered that King was the father of a 2-year-old: the result of a one-night stand backstage with a groupie named Portia, whom he could not stand.

  He dialed Melissa’s number to tell her he was on his way.

  “Hey,” Melissa said as she answered the phone.

  “Hey, I’m here and on my way to your house,” King told her.

  “Wait, I don’t want you to come here.” Melissa paused. “We need to meet somewhere else.”

  “Melissa, it’s almost midnight. Where are you trying to meet?”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “At the Westin at Town Center in Virginia Beach. You coming to the room?” King asked, excited because this was definitely not what he expected. For years he had tried over and over to get back with Melissa, whom he considered the closest thing to the love of his life if there was such a thing. She, of course, denied him continuously. Now he wondered if maybe there was a slight chance of him getting some ass from her since she was coming to meet him in a hotel room late at night.

&n
bsp; “Hell no. I’m not coming to a hotel room with you. Are you crazy?”

  “Why not? You scared of King D, Melly Mel? You know you still miss him after all these years!”

  “Boy, please. I’ll meet you in the bar. See you in twenty minutes,” Melissa said, then hung up.

  King got onto the interstate and headed toward the hotel. He was tempted to call his uncle Matt, the only living relative he had since his mother passed away two years ago. King never knew his father, but Uncle Matt and Melissa were close. He swore he looked out for Melissa on King’s behalf, but it was more likely the other way around.

  Melissa made sure she checked on Uncle Matt and brought Knight over to spend time with him on the regular. Seeing that it was now after eleven, King knew his uncle was probably asleep, and he decided that he would drive over to see him the next morning.

  Once he checked into the hotel, he freshened up, then headed back to the bar to wait for Melissa. As he suspected it would be, the hotel bar was fairly empty, but he was surprised to see her waiting for him when he arrived. She looked amazing as ever. His heart began racing as he walked toward her. Melissa was the most gorgeous woman in the world to him. At five foot seven and nearly 190 pounds, she was a thick girl, but she carried it well. Her hair, which was normally long and wavy, was now in a chic, chin-length bob, and he liked it.

  “Look at you!” he said.

  Melissa stood up from the stool, and they embraced for a few moments before he kissed her cheek. The familiar scent of her perfume filled his nostrils, and he couldn’t help but feel the fullness of her chest as he held her tight. He was tempted to let his hands linger below her hips, but he knew better.

  “You like it?” Melissa asked, shaking her hair as she took her seat.

  “I do.” King nodded, reaching out and stroking her bob. “You always stay fly, though.”

  “What can I get you?” the bartender came over and asked.

  “I’m fine,” Melissa said, pointing to the bottle of Perrier in front of her. “Do you want anything?”