by Tracy Gray
“Yo, I’m sorry.” I said not turning around to face her. “I ain’t mean to embarrass you in front of your friend. It was just him, and you, and that fucking dress…”
“You did what you were supposed to do. If I was really your girl, there’s no way you woulda let him hug me like that. If we want this thing to work, you have to treat me like I’m really your girl. Besides, everybody knows Curtis’ ass is a creep. I don’t ever want him touching me.”
I didn’t respond, I was too far in my own head, wishing that I could rewind time. I would’ve slid right in front of dude’s ass, and not let him lay a finger on Mecca.
She leaned close to me. “Can we have a quick ‘getting to know you’ session?”
I finally turned around and faced her. “Yeah, let’s do that, Pudding.”
She smiled at my use of her nickname. “This dress,” she gestured to the dress that I hated, but that looked so good on her. “Is not my usual style. It’s very...flimsy, and thin, and sheer. This dress is for you.”
“For me?” I asked, screwing up my face. “Well, we can burn that motherfucker the minute we get back to your place. I fucking hate that dress. It’s a shit starter, and I already know I’mma have to whup somebody’s ass behind it.”
“This dress is to show the people that you need to show that I’m an upgrade for you from Ainsley Neuberg. When your girl looks good...you look good.”
I shook my head at her words. “You coulda came up in here wearing a tank top, leggings and Jordans and you woulda been an upgrade.” I paused. “Because you’re an upgrade. And thanks for caring about making me look good.”
She nodded. “Oh, what I was saying before about this dress.”
I looked at the offending, yet alluring garment.
“This dress is thin. Like, really thin. It’s almost like having on lingerie in public. I would prefer it if nobody else hugs me tonight.” She looked up at me, with those honey colored eyes. “You up to being in charge of that? You’re good with man to man coverage, right? Think you can cover my body from all of these thirsty dudes?”
“I can definitely cover your body.” I said out loud. In my mind I said, “I’ll do any fucking thing you want me to do to your body...in or out of that dress.”
Later that night, it became clear that I really didn’t understand what I’d signed up for when I told Mecca that I would cover her body. She knew a lot of people at the benefit. Correction, she knew a lot of players at the benefit. I didn’t trip, because I understood that she’d spent two years choreographing for an NBA team, and the last five years choreographing for both the NBA and the NFL. She knew players. That didn’t bother me. What bothered me was the way that basically every dude who approached her to speak, looked at her in that dress. And they all wanted to hug her. I was blocking motherfuckers left and right. Got called a hater a few times, too, but I didn’t care. Mecca said that she didn’t want no thirsty dudes pressing up on her, so none pressed up on her. Except for me. I pressed up on her every opportunity that I got, I mean, all in the vein of making it believable that she was my new love interest.
When we got back to Mecca’s building that night, I left Heavy in the truck, while I walked her up to her unit. I stood behind her, taking in the dips and curves of her bare back and the cut of the dress, as it barely skimmed the top of her ass.
She unlocked the door, pushed it open and turned around to face me. The way she was standing, halfway inside her darkened condo, her right hip popped forward, that white dress draping so naughtily over her body, made me lick my lips.
Damn! I thought to myself. If she was actually my girl, she would have been halfway out of that dress already. When I noticed that her eyes were trained on my mouth, I involuntarily licked my lips again.
“Thanks for tonight, Busy.” She said, managing to drag her eyes up to meet mine. She motioned for me to come inside her place. “Thanks for making sure all the creeps, freaks, and opportunists didn’t get the chance to feel me up.”
I chuckled. I had felt her up enough for everybody during the course of the night. My arms had been draped around her shoulders while she stood in front of me, as we talked to a local radio DJ that we both knew. I kept her pulled close to my side as we browsed the items that were available through the silent auction. I rested my shoulder against hers, as we sat at the table and ate dinner with my colleagues.
Each time some dude approached, trying to love her up by way of greeting, I pulled her into my body, usually full frontal, shook my head and said, “Not today, Dawg. No hugs today. You just need to wave.” Each time I pulled her close, she seemed to melt into me - fold her body into mine until we were flush. Whatever vibe we were giving off, it seemed to work. Eventually, dudes stopped trying to hug up on her.
“Thanks for letting me feel you up all night.”
She cut her eyes at me. “Right? You were a little handsy. Halfway through the evening, I was thinking that your grandmother must be dancing in Heaven. She stayed trying to scheme on ways to get us together like we were tonight.”
I laughed out loud at that. “Are you serious? She was giving you that smoke, too? I swear, everytime I talked to that lady she was making up some excuse for me to contact you. I can’t believe she was doing the same thing to you.”
“That’s because you haven’t seen my collection of Maddox “MayDay” Mayhew jerseys. I got a new one every Christmas and on my birthday.” She plopped down on the couch, and started fiddling with the buckle on the five inch heels she wore.
I sat down next to her, scooped her ankle into my hands and worked on getting the shoes off of her.
“How many #27 jerseys do you have?” Her shoe was off, and I was rubbing her foot, because there was no way those shoes didn’t have her in pain.
“Uhm, maybe twelve.”
I stopped rubbing. “Get the fuck outta here.” I said in disbelief.
“Apparently, I’m your number one fan.” She chuckled, with a shrug of her shoulders.
“After tonight, I’m definitely your number one fan. Thanks for looking out, Mecca. You don’t have to do what you’re doing.” I took a beat and grabbed her other foot. “Or do it so well.”
“Have you checked your notifications? I’m sure after the way we were boo’d up tonight, somebody has posted something somewhere.”
“Yeah, true.” I sighed. “You gonna be okay?”
“You got me, right?”
“No doubt. If the bullets start blowing, I’ll take that heat.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m gonna need you to keep that same energy tomorrow.”
“At Joya’s anniversary thing?” I asked, not understanding.
“Yeah, uh huh, at Joya’s anniversary thing.”
Mecca
5
So, I lied to Maddox. I didn’t care about the energy he took to Joya’s party. I cared about the energy he took to my parents’ house, because that was where we were going. I had Maddox arrive at my condo at 3:00 on Saturday, knowing full well that we weren’t expected at Joya’s until around 5:00.
“Hey.” He said, when I opened the door for him.
My heart did kind of a pitter-patter. He was such a gorgeous man. The night before, when he showed up at my house wearing that tuxedo that accentuated every ripple and arc of his muscular frame, I wanted to skip that benefit and have my way with him right here, in my own bedroom.
He looked like a man in that tux. I mean, I knew Busy as a scrawny, ashy little boy, and also as a handsome, moderately mature teenager. Even when I watched him play professional football, all I saw was an oversized kid, having fun and doing what he had always loved to do. But last night in that tux, I saw Maddox - the grown ass man. The way he held me, pulled my body close to his and protected me from being groped and manhandled had me seeing him in a whole new light.
“Damn.” He said, walking past my kitchen into my combination, living room/dining room where he was confronted with a beautiful view of Lake Michigan and Navy Pier. �
�Million dollar view, huh? I didn’t see this last night, your blinds were closed.”
“Yeah, it is a beautiful view.” I agreed. It was the view that had me lusting after a unit in this particular building off Lake Shore Drive for almost a year, fantasizing about what it would be like to actually call it home.
On my 25th birthday, my parents surprised me by gifting me the down payment, and money to furnish the place. While I knew in my heart that you weren’t supposed to love material things, I couldn’t help loving my place, at least a little bit. It was so...me.
“Can we sit down and talk for a few minutes?” I asked, making my way over to my stone gray sofa and hoping he would follow.
He did, dwarfing my sofa. I looked over at his big hercules ass. When did he get so damn delectable? The smooth, chocolate brown skin that reminded me of brownies fresh out of the oven. Intense dark brown eyes, the kinky fade, the manicured beard, the kissably full lips, the gigantic biceps that were straining against the fabric of the moisture-wicking henley, and the dimples. Why did he need the dimples, when he was already panty-melting without them? That was just overkill. Delicious, beautiful, unfair overkill.
I wasn’t a frequent flyer when it came to dating. That was more my little sister, British’s style, but I went on dates. Dudes came over and sat on my sofa from time to time. I mean, even my twin brother, Cairo, and my daddy who were both over six feet tall sat on it, but Maddox’s big, muscular ass had my sofa looking like it belonged in Barbie’s Dream House or in her beach bungalow, like toy furniture or something.
After too long, I realized that while I was thinking impure thoughts about him, he was waiting for me to talk.
“Uh, so, Brandon emailed me the contract.”
“Yeah, I heard. Sydnie finished her background check, too.”
“Did I come back clean?” I teased.
“You came back exactly the way I would expect a goody-two-shoes to come back.”
“Goody-two-shoes? Is that what you think of me?”
“More so before I saw you in that dress last night.” His head was down, reading and responding to text messages.
“That dress really made an impression on you, huh?”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I hated that fucking dress?”
“Sure didn’t look like that to me.” I couldn’t help commenting.
“Yo, that dress looked good as hell on you...and that was my main problem with it.”
“And I thought your main problem last night was keeping your hands to yourself.”
His head flew up, and our eyes locked. He cocked his head to the side. “Are you trying to get something started, Mecca? I mean, you’re sitting right next to me on this baby ass couch, clearly you don’t realize how little effort it would take for me to pull you into my lap if you want this work. You wanna see how much of a problem I was having keeping my hands to myself last night?”
I blinked rapidly, surprised that he took things there and by how his words put butterflies in my stomach and made my vagina grow warm. Of course I wanted that work, all those muscles pressed up against me? Hell yeah. Legs in the air, mouth wide open humming his name? Yes, please. But I wasn’t here for that. Couldn’t be here for that. Busy and I were doing business. We needed to keep things on the level.
I licked my lips. “You can keep that work to yourself...for now, Busy.”
He grinned at me, showing me the dimples that I found so attractive. “For now?”
The tension that had amassed in just those few seconds between him asking me if I wanted “this work” and me responding, seemed to dissipate.
I grinned back at him. “I said what I said.”
He watched me for a few seconds, his eyes sweeping over my face and landing on my eyes. Then he searched them, like he was trying to decipher some secret code that was lost inside my irises.
I broke the eye contact first. “I went on Instagram today. Saw the pictures from the benefit.”
“Oh yeah?” He turned his attention back to his phone.
“Yeah, I kinda had to after Clarke called me this morning cursing me out about them. She had a lot of questions.”
“I got four words for you: Don’t. Read. The. Comments.”
“Yeah, Clarke read some of them to me. The ones she read weren’t too bad. I’m sure she skipped the ones where I was getting dragged.”
“Fuck those people.” He said dismissively waving his imaginary haters away with his hand. “They don’t know you, or me and if I see some shit like that, I’m airing motherfuckers all the way out. How are you feeling about Joya’s thing? You feeling like we can pull this off in front of your cousins?”
“Yeah, we just need to make sure that we stay leveled up.” I sighed heavily.
“What’s up? Why’re you sighing like that?”
“We need to talk to my parents, Busy. I can’t mislead them. I can’t have them thinking that I’m in some serious relationship with you, when it’s just an arrangement. A ruse. And knowing my mother, the social media junkie, she’s been on Instagram today, and has already seen the pictures.” I paused. “Here’s the thing, my father enjoys being difficult with the guys we bring home. I’m not just talking about me and British, either. I mean, all of my cousins, all of the Watson girls and the girls on his side of the family. He doesn’t like the guys any of us introduce him to, and he won’t like you.
Don’t waste your time trying to win him over. Don’t compliment me, or try to be charming or anything like that. He shuts that kind of thing down, rudely. Just be polite and treat me with respect in his presence. You need to appeal to my mother. Compliment her, but not too much, that will only piss off my dad. Oh, and we need to pick up flowers. You need to bring my mother flowers.”
“That’s a lot of damn rules, Pudding. When do we need to see them? Will they be at Joya’s thing?”
“Nah, that’s just for the cousins. We have to ride out to my parents’ house...in Winnetka.”
“And where does Joya stay?”
“Lincoln Park.”
“From downtown, to the suburbs, back to the city.”
I winked at him. “Hope you gassed up.”
“Oh, and I’m driving?”
“Yes, sir.”
In the vein of being the hostess with the mostest, when Janaye Goode found out that Maddox and I were headed to their house, she put out a spread. She had a taco bar set up on the island of her chef’s kitchen.
“Mom, you did too much.” I told her, as I took in the bowls filled with pulled chicken, strips of steak, ground turkey, diced onions, chopped tomatoes, guacamole, sour cream, pico de gallo, shredded cheese and sliced limes.
“It’s fine, Mecca. Fix plates and come into the dining room so we can talk. Your father’s been nervous all day, worrying the heck outta me about what you could want to talk about. I didn’t tell him that I saw you in my Instagram feeds, looking all...cozy with Busy Mayhew. Now, here he is...standing in my house with you. I’m intrigued, daughter. Hurry up, fix plates.” She prompted and flitted away from me.
That was another thing my mother did, she flitted.
After Maddox and I fixed ourselves plates on my mother’s good China, we met my parents in the dining room. She had already placed the flowers Maddox presented her with at the front door, in the middle of the table. That was good. But my father was wearing a frown on his handsome face, that was bad.
“So, everybody knows each other.” I started off stating the obvious. “You both know Maddox - Busy, lived across the street from Auntie Bo, before he left for college. And Busy you know my parents.”
“It’s nice to see you both, again.” He said politely.
So far, so good.
“Okay,” I blew out a deep breath. “The other day, Auntie Bo asked me if I could come over to her house. When I got there, she asked me to do Busy a favor, because he’s had some...challenges in the public eye, lately, and…”
“Challenges?” My dad guffawed. “That’s w
hat we’re calling them?”
“That’s what they are, Bryan.” My mom said, giving Maddox a warm look and reaching over to pat his arm. “He’s young. He just lost his grandmother. He’s made some missteps.” She shrugged her shapely shoulders. “It happens.”
“Okay.” My dad acquiesced with a short nod of his head, then turned his eyes on me. “What do his missteps have to do with you?”
“I’m getting to that, Daddy.”
“Get there faster, MeMe.”
I nodded at him, ready to take the plunge and just spill the whole story, but Maddox held up his hand.
“These are your parents, but this is my situation. I can level up.” He winked at me. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Oh, you’ll take it, huh, big guy?” My father’s eyebrows were practically touching his hairline. “Okay, the floor is yours.”
“I was mourning my grandmother’s passing while simultaneously denying that she had passed, and I found myself behaving in ways that were outside of my character.” Maddox began. “I’m not proud of the things I did...the mistakes I made. Actually, I’m embarrassed by them. But yo, it’s out there on the internet, and most of the videos went viral, so, yeah. Anyway, as a man, all I can do is press forward. My management rep suggested a few things that would help put the spotlight back on my positive moves, instead of focusing on my fu...mess ups. Finding a nice young lady, and giving the appearance that I’m settling down is one of the suggestions. Miss Bo asked Mecca if she would do me the favor of acting as my partner/lady friend, while I put my reputation back together, and Mecca was gracious enough to agree to help me.”
I had to admit that Maddox was much more succinct in telling the story than I would’ve been.
My mother looked at me with wet eyes. “MeMe, I’m so proud of you. You’re such a sweetheart.”
“I don’t know about all that, mama.” I said honestly. “I’m saying, I wasn’t immediately here for helping Busy. You know he’s funny acting. Auntie Bo kinda had to twist my arm to get me to agree to help him.”
