by Love Belvin
“Oh. That’s what’s up. How’s my KyKy?” she reminded me of the nickname we created for my son.
It was back when I tried desperately to gain her approval. I knew I was competing against several babies’ mothers and wanted to be the most notable one, so I fought for her attention. That thought had me mentally sighing, remembering to check on the delivery status for plants I bought for April’s room at the house. Had I been vying for her approval as I once did Ryshon’s mother? No. April made me feel like family, reaching out to me for things. Renee was always nice, but never trustworthy or reliable. When Ryshon was locked up, she never sent for Kyree. She didn’t see him if I didn’t bring him to her.
“He’s…ummmmm…” I squeezed my eyes, thinking hard for my next words. I kept my voice low. “Uhhhh…maturing faster than my heart can take. You know?”
There!
That was honesty, but surface.
“Okay! Ryder told me he talk real good now. Like a white boy!” I heard the genuine pleasantness in her tone. Renee wasn’t making fun of my child.
I would expect for her not to understand how ignorant and classless that statement was. For chrissakes, she referred to her son by his street moniker and not his given name.
“He’s a smart boy.” I nodded. “Well spoken,” I whispered then my expression dropped. “Listen, Renee, like I said, I’m about to walk into a meeting—”
“Oh, yeah!” she bellowed into the phone, causing me to shrink in the waiting room. “I just wanted to ask you to bring one of your desserts to the party.”
“Okay.” Sounded fair. “Which one?”
“Well, you know I be fuckin’ up your pineapple pudding!” She giggled. “But Ryder want your strawberry shortcake. Then the kids gone need something. Them two for the adults. They too fancy for the kids. So a lil something for them, too. That ain’t a lot, right?” she purred, trying to mollify the rudeness in her request.
Jarred, I sat unmoving, eyes unfocused as my head shook.
I am not taking requests from Ryshon…
Then my eyes blinked successively. “I—I’ll see what I can do. I need to go, Renee.”
“Oh. Okay, girl,” her tone remained upbeat. “I’ll holla atchu!”
I disconnected the call, feeling the anxious sensation lancing through my belly as it had been lately at the thought of Ryshon being back in my life. His mother calling confirmed he had returned.
Multiple footsteps filing out of the office door caught my attention. I stole a cursory glance of this Jackie Gordon, dressed in workout gear with her name printed on her leggings and across the breast of her shirt. Defeat danced in her eyes and weighed on her shoulders.
Elle, clearing her throat snapped my focus back to the door she leaned against, appearing her usual effortlessly beautiful self, but very…tired. She pinched the bridge between her eyes.
“Hey, girl,” she breathed. “The first round of invitations for April went out. The deposit has been made on the club, and the sponsors are all on deck.” I nodded, understanding the follow up information. “Come on in.”
I followed inside after she waved me on, strutting back into her office in five-inch black Louboutin booties under a silver knit, sleeveless sweater, and cranberry harem pants. Even her bracelets were strategically placed: a silver plated on one arm and on the other were stacked beaded bracelets. I couldn’t name drop on her entire ensemble, but I knew it was expensive.
She offered me a seat in front of her desk.
My eyes brushed over her on my way down. “Your sweater is gorgeous,” I tried nervously.
I had no idea why I was nervous, but whenever meeting with Elle in the work capacity, it brought about unexplained anxiety for me.
Elle’s eyes widened and she absentmindedly touched the collar of the sweater and frowned. From this angle, it looked sequin, delicate.
“JAGMisha.com… I believe it’s a vintage Hermes.” She shook her head, overwhelmed, it seemed and pinched the bridge between her eyes again. “I feel a headache coming.”
“I’m sorry.” My weight pushed to my feet, but I was still seated. “I can come back.”
Elle waved me off again. Her eggplant manicure was simple yet elegant.
“Don’t be foolish. I called the meeting.” She took a deep breath. “I just got back from a much needed Belizean vacation late last night.” Her eyes rolled and closed then a wistful grin broke across her face. “It was just me, an island, water, and my guy. Blissful.” Her eyes opened and found me again. “I contemplated not coming in today. In fact, I canceled all of my appointments, except for yours. Then I learned Gordon was stopping by when I got in this morning. She was scheduled with one of my senior accountants, but I needed to speak with them myself.” She groaned, “I’ll be leaving soon. I promised Jax. I just need another day to get myself together.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your exhaustion. I heard Belize is gorgeous.”
“The people are, too! Physically and spirit-wise.” She groaned again, tossing her head back. “Jackson and I overdosed on Murder She Wrote and In Living Color episodes while tossing back cashew wine and inhaling Johnny cakes. Ugh! I just wanna go back!”
Her chin dropped and eyes pinned me to my seat. I swallowed, not knowing what it meant or what should I say.
Elle’s shoulders dropped dramatically. “You know… I’m going to share this with you, considering how family oriented and aggressively supportive you are of Trent.”
My eyes bulged. That really was the public perception of me.
Damn…
“When I took on my role here at Dynamic Branding, it was because I had this driven passion to link people to brands that could shape their reputations. I knew what it took to reinvent and change perceptions. I was good at it, and worked hard to prove it. I showed my boss I could excel and was given a decent role on his team. I ate, breathed, and shitted out relationship building and branding. But you know what happened?”
My eyes grew and I answered no with pouted lips.
“I fell in love with my boss. And while that’s great and all, it shifted things in my core,” she explained.
My eyes wandered across the room as I considered that. “I think love has the tricky power to do that.”
“Yeah, but in my case, when I thought the work was my life, love showed me how empty it was. And the moment I gave in to it, falling in love flooded every bit of my soul.” Her brows met. “My identity changed. The work fulfills nothing now.”
Whoa…
“I can see the conflict considering who your boss is versus your lover.”
Elle nodded. “The upshot to it is, my drive now is to build him up.” She upturned her palms to gesture the room. “This is Jackson’s dream. I am the tool to make it happen.” Elle’s gorgeous eyes locked on me again, questioning my understanding.
And I understood just fine. She championed for her fiancé. I swallowed hard. What a revelation.
“My exhaustion has set in because I can do the work and leave the office at a set hour to hopefully go home to him—to resume my real passion. Unfortunately, in my world, the clock isn’t set to end the business of the day. I travel with work. I go home to work. Pardon my French, but I’ve even fucked to work—and even at work countless times.” I tried catching my weighted jaw. “I’ll be forty soon. My therapist said my priorities have shifted. And I’m inclined to believe him.”
Elle. Sees. A. Therapist?
But she seemed so well put together! She was beautiful, talented, and in charge all the time. She had a wealthy and powerful fiancé. She made good money herself. What problems could she have? I knew she was friends with Lex, but I could never ask her about it. That would be inappropriate.
“I know I’ve been told I need more girlfriends to connect to other women, but I swear that’s not what today is about. I called a meeting with you because I need your help.”
My eyes ballooned. “Uh…of course. Anything.” I swallowed hard again.
Elle step
ped around to behind her desk.
“We—Love is Action just signed a deal with Gucci. They want four of L.I.A.’s high-ranking clients in their apparel for the next eighteen months. Stenton Rogers and Trent are definitely of that group, and the boss just selected Aaron Croix, an MLB’er. We’ve just acquired female boxing sensation, Tori McNabb. So all the players have been chosen.” I nodded. “Then there’s Ase Garb. Are you familiar with them?”
“Sort of.”
“Well, it’s African—Yoruba philosophy based. Something about envisaging the power to bring things to fruition and generating change. They’re a black-owned, high-end designer, specializing in accessories and footwear. That’s socks and shoes. They’ve been on the block for just under ten years and have made the most out of each day of them. Ase Garb has replaced its CEO, who has a new vision. One that has redesigned their marketing plan, using public figures to legitimize their identity. Dynamic Branding just inked a three-year, multi-million-dollar deal with them two weeks ago, before I left for vacation.”
My eyes expanded wider, if that were possible. Dynamic Branding was making things happen for Love is Action.
“Now that I’m back, I have to start implementing the deal. But I have enough on my desk between DB clients and trying to schedule a blow job for a man I’m trying to marry. Not to mention, planning my wedding—and yours!” Her brilliant eyes flashed upon me. “Trent called this morning.”
My eyes diverted and I licked my lips. “Yeah. I was going to ask you about that at some point. I just need the list of coordinators. Again.”
Elle sat down in her chair and began typing into her Mac while speaking.
“Back to what I need from you: Gucci is requiring seventy-five percent of their reps to be draped with their brand. I don’t have time to follow up with egotistical stylists and jelly-backed PAs with no balls to remind their boss of his or her obligation to wear designer clothes.”
My phone pinged of an email from Elle A. Jarreau. It was a list of four wedding coordinators. Three were in the Tristate area, and, oddly, one was in L.A.
“I think you’ll be perfect for taking on the role of managing this contract for Love Is Action.”
My neck snapped back. “Me?”
“Of course, you! You’re fashionable, and assertive with one of the clients they’re requesting specifically.” She shrugged. “Also, I know you’ve been wanting more involvement with Trent’s career. It’s a no brainer.”
My eyes blinked successively again. I couldn’t believe Elle was asking me to work with their sports agency firm.
“Look… I plan to compensate you. Unless you screw this up to the point of legal getting involved, you’ll have a job for the term of the longer contract, which is Ase Garb.”
“Pay?” That was emitted weakly. I had to remember whose presence I was in and straighten my spine. I cleared my throat. “What exactly are we talking?”
She shrugged with one shoulder and her mouth. “Not quite a six-figure role, but I can get you well beyond half of that.” She went back to typing. “Jackson and I are in the process of closing on an apartment in Global Towers. A luxury apartment I’m not even sure I want anymore. At one time, the idea of metropolitan living appealed to me. Now, I fantasize about having a back yard to plant in and entertain.” Elle’s blonde head lifted and she peered over to me. “My life is shifting. Remember?”
I nodded, taking another deep breath. Another notification of an email. This one was an Excel spreadsheet with the four chosen Love Is Action clients, their sizes from neck to shoes, and stylists’ contact information, as well as personal assistants.
My eyes zoomed in on Trent’s row where I was listed as his assistant. The stylist field was empty. His sizes were foreign to me, though I’d touched and tasted every morsel of his frame.
“Any questions?”
My head shot up from my phone. “Uhhhhh…” I stammered, my mind running in a gazillion directions. “This Tessie Bell person is listed in L.A.”
“She travels, Jade.” Elle cracked a smile. “She’s at the top of her game. Not coupon-accessible, but Trent’s cheap ass can more than afford her for your special day.”
“Is that who you’re using?” My eyes roved up to her.
Elle took a deep breath, her brick-red lips parting. “If I could ever stop this machine just long enough to exchange nuptials.” Her shoulders shrank, then all of a sudden her eyes brightened with revelation. “I can always opt for the team Bailey way: elope in secret.” She smiled radiantly.
But unexpected air flew from my lungs.
~Eight
My spine curled, hands clawed his glistening tatted pecs, and mouth swung open as a tsunami of sensations rushed to my quivering core with impatience.
“Trentiiiin!” I cried, tightening my thighs around his waist as I rocked over him.
I was coming. Again.
My nipples tingled, feet heated, and teeth clenched as warmth and pleasure rolled over me. Again.
“Damn, J,” he breathed. “Again?” Trent pushed from his feet and shoulders, pelting into me, intensifying my release.
He wouldn’t stop his dedicated thrusts, pounding me over and over and over, filling me to the hilt. When I tapped his chest, telling him I was done, Trent flipped me onto my back with urgency and plummeted into me with frantic need. He’d been trying to hold out until he had me just where he wanted to release himself.
This man’s waist… It rolled fluidly with rhythm to bring absolute pleasure. I’d never had a lover so agile, athletic, and effortlessly artful with his thrust. Trent didn’t just perform in bed; he opened himself in it. He revealed his treasure.
His head shot back, tip of his beard pointed toward the ceiling almost. His lips pressed into his gums, his teeth all exposed as his face tightened as though in pain. Trent growled over me, one flexed arm above my head and the other at my shoulder, keeping me in place as he exploded inside me.
I was sure my husband was so caught up in passion, he forgot our new agreement of him not coming inside of me without a condom anymore. Deep inside, I knew Trent was only half committed to that pact anyways.
I enjoyed the sight of him coming apart on top of me, giving slow pelvic jerks, excreting the last of him into me. His eyes squeezed closed, his lungs under siege, and his heart totally open. To me. I loved seeing Trent vulnerable. It was the only time I felt completely trusted by him.
Slowly, he dragged his heavy, throbbing swollenness from me. I swallowed back a moan at his retraction. Trent rolled onto his back, trying to catch his breath.
“You’re not supposed to come inside me and you’ve done it every time since you’ve been back from California.”
My eyes rolled over to him. For a while, Trent didn’t speak.
Then I heard, “I forgot.”
That was it. No emotion in that admittance. No commitment to doing better.
I licked my lips while mentally rolling my eyes. Trent could be so immature when it came to sex. The most low-risk, high-conscience man I knew under fifty, but when it came to sex and protection, his mind was no more developed than a fourteen year old’s. I didn’t have the energy to fight him on it tonight. I’d driven up to Connecticut, needing to be with him. He’d been here for two days and I missed him.
“I’m pretty sure my vagina is broken,” I croaked.
“As long as it was me who did it, we good.” Trent’s voice was throaty, masculine.
He sat up from his abs and scooted to the side of the bed to leave.
“Is that all you care about: you banging out my poor kitty?”
With his back to me as he headed to the bathroom, he replied without emotion, “Nah. I worry about the kitty being hungry, too.”
This time I did roll my eyes. I didn’t know how we’d gotten around to this birth control thing.
A few seconds later, Trent came back to the bed with a warm wet cloth for me. This time, he took it upon himself to clean me up while kissing my left kneecap. His dark e
yes were lazy as they penetrated me. Trent touched me with ownership. God, he could be so affectionate.
I hated when he stood from the bed. It was over. He gaited sexily back to the bathroom.
“Where’s Ky?” he asked from in there.
“Um…” I licked my lips then swallowed the residue of lust. “Uh… With Jordan. I bartered a deal with Zo to keep him and drop him off to school in the morning.”
Trent stopped at the bed, his steps interrupted by that information. One eyebrow hiked in the air. “You sure you don’t wanna reach out to your moms for Ky’s sake? I hate you having to do all that to creep up here just to see me.”
“Am I not welcome?”
“C’mon, Jade. Here you go with that bull.”
Wanting to quickly switch gears, I blurted, “I got a job.”
Trent had one knee in the air, on his way back into the bed. His movements halted once again. After a few seconds of staring at me dazed, he joined me on the mattress.
“A job? Doing what?”
“Bossing you around.”
“Quit with the games, J.”
I sucked in air. “I’m not playing games. Remember that meeting with Elle this week?”
“Yeah.”
“That was yesterday. She offered me a job—more or less asked me to take a responsibility off her desk.”
“And what’s that?”
“Apparently, L.I.A. just got an endorsement deal by Gucci and—get this—Ase Garb!” I peered into his chocolate orbs for excitement. Nothing. “Anyway. It requires specifications she doesn’t have the capacity to take on.”
“Like what?”
“Being sure the L.I.A. clients selected are wearing the designers’ apparel properly, the correct amounts, to the appropriate events, and in their correct sizes.” I shrugged.
“You gotta dress people up, Jade? How many?”
“There are four of you. And kinda. I think she’s asking me to go that extra mile. It sounds like a lot of work, though.”
“But it’s right up your alley.”
My head shifted over to him. “She said something like that. You think so, too?”
