Let Me Love You (McClain Brothers Book 1)

by Alexandria House

  So then, I had to carry my ass back to Koreatown to get the damn bulgogi, and this time, they got it right. After I looked at it, I could see the difference and promised myself I’d check Google for a pic of whatever he had me pick up from then on.

  After all that Peter Park bullshit, it was two in the afternoon before I was able to text Everett so that Tommy could pick me up, and I was half-starved, tired as hell, and pissed. Totally pissed. But my mood instantly lifted after I followed Tommy into a building, down a hall, and into the studio to see Everett sitting at the humongous mixing board. The bright smile that adorned his face had me smiling right back at him.

  No sooner than I’d crossed the threshold, he had crossed the room and was in my face, pulling me to him. “Damn, it’s good to see you,” he whispered in my ear.

  I grinned as I leaned into his big, broad body. “You just saw me yesterday.”

  “More than twenty-four hours. Too long.” He leaned in, planted a kiss on my lips, and grabbed my hand, kissing it, too.

  Damn, this man is too good to be true!

  My eyes roamed the room, noting Dunn sitting on a sofa on the opposite wall from the door and another man occupying a chair at the mixing board.

  “You know Dunn, and this is Heath, the sound engineer. We were just wrapping up.”

  “Aw, man. I was hoping I’d get to watch you work. You’re done?” I said.

  He nodded. “Wanna hear what we got?”

  “Yeah. Is this something for another album? You just released one, right?”

  He led me to his seat and leaned over the board, pushing some buttons. “Yeah, got a tour coming up in a couple of weeks. But this is just a feature I’m doing for another artist.”

  As I settled in the chair, I said, “Oh, okay. So…someone else is going to come in here and do their part?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m just sending my part to the producer and he’ll put everything together.”

  “Okay.” I knew a little bit about the music business but not much. It was interesting, though. “What’s the song supposed to be about?”

  As a track began to play, he said, “Uh, just some braggadocios shit. Me and Bugz are supposed to be dropping verses about some girl that’s hard to get, telling her what she’s missing out on.”

  “Oh…so the other artist is Bugz-NYC? I didn’t know you two were that tight.”

  “We’re not. We’re label mates. I honestly don’t think our styles are compatible, but the label pushed for this collabo, so here we go…”

  Everett’s voice began to pour through the speakers, the rhythm and cadence familiar. He spoke with a slight southern accent in everyday conversation but amplified it when he rapped. He sounded good, but I’d heard him sound better, and I told him so after his portion of the track ended.

  “What? I mean, you don’t like it?” he asked incredulously.

  “I did. It was cool, but like…is that all you got?” I asked.

  His mouth hung open as Heath murmured, “Damn…”

  “Is that all I got? What the hell you mean? That shit was lit!”

  “I’m just saying, if you’re supposed to be impressing a woman, that did nothing for me. And I’m definitely a woman.”

  “Jo, are you serious right now?”

  “Yeah…I mean, you used better lines on me, and I’m here, aren’t I? You need to be real with it. Bugz-NYC is raw. Have you heard his verses yet? I bet he’s yelling and growling and making all those crazy noises, being his own hype man like he always does. Your verses are going to sound weak compared to all that. I know you have a different style. You’re more of a story-teller and all of your words are intelligible, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make folks feel you. You know? You need to take a more visceral approach to this, find your edge again.”

  “Shit,” Heath mumbled.

  “Would you shut up with the damn commentary, man?” Everett shot at him.

  Heath, a short, brown-skinned brother, raised his hands and scooted back from the board a little. “I’m just saying, man. She does have a point. Shit, a few points.”

  “Damn, man! You agree with her?” Everett asked.

  Heath shrugged in response.

  I glanced over at Dunn, who had his face in his phone, then shifted my gaze back to Everett. “You wanted my honest opinion, right? That’s what I’m giving you.”

  He stood there next to me, his eyes on mine for a good three or four minutes before saying, “Run it back, Heath,” and then opening a door and heading into the booth.

  I can’t lie, I felt an adrenaline rush when I saw him put the headphones on and begin bobbing his head to the beat. I was about to see the Big South in action! And when he opened his mouth and words began flying out, delivered with such force that I could feel them in my chest, I was left speechless.

  You say you ain’t got no time for a nigga

  But the way you looking at me got me asking, “How you figure?”

  Shit, you know who I am, what I’m known to do

  I bring the heat, don’t need no muthafuckin’ crew

  You told me “Stop and Frisk” was your shit and how you used to vibe to it

  I bet you touched yourself the first time you heard me spit

  I know you laid in your bed at night wishing I would hit

  I know you wet right now just thinking about some Big

  I’ll make you cream, baby girl, with just one swipe at your clit

  Make you feel every inch of me before I even take out my shit

  I know you like what you see…South got your ass hungry

  I’ll have you climbing the walls, screaming from A to Z

  You might be fine as hell, slim thick with them juicy-ass lips

  You might have a nigga sprung just from the way you wiggle them hips

  Big ass afro, nice little ass, perfect titties…shit!

  Open them thighs, lil’ mama…let me see if I fit

  I might want you bad. Fuck it, I might even beg.

  But I’ll have your bow-legged ass yelling, “Daaaaamn, Big South!” once I get you in my bed.

  They don’t call me Big 12 for nothing, baby.

  That last line ended with his signature chuckle that could be heard on many of his songs.

  He pulled the headphones off, strode out of the booth, and stood beside me. “How was that?”

  I squeezed my thighs together and swallowed. “Uh…better.”

  He gave me a smirk. “Uh-huh.” Looking down at his phone, he said, “Tommy just made it back with our food. You hungry?”

  I nodded. “Starving.”

  “We done in here, South?” Heath asked.

  Everett turned to me with raised eyebrows. “Am I done, Jo?”

  Licking my lips, I said, “Uh, yeah. I would say so.”

  “You heard the lady.”

  12

  We had a good lunch together, and that evening, we talked on the phone until the wee hours of the night, then met again the next day so I could show him the mock-ups. He was impressed with all of them but chose my favorite design—a capital E for Ella with a butterfly wing attached to the leg of the E. I told him it would take me a while to complete it since this was my first time creating a piece, and he told me to take my time.

  I didn’t see him face to face again before he left town that Sunday morning, but he called every day and right before he boarded the plane. As he ran down his busy promo schedule with me and promised to call as much as he could, I already began to miss him. I’d only been getting to know him for a short period of time, but Everett was growing on me something bad, so bad that I spent that Sunday morning enveloped in sadness, the familiarity of the loneliness I’d endured since my divorce lurking in every corner of my home again. But when you have a child, you can’t afford to lie around in a depressed stupor. So I dragged myself out of bed, went grocery shopping, and as I pulled back into my driveway, saw a red Bentley Continental GT sitting there.

  I parked beside it, sighed, clos
ed my eyes, and then looked back at Nat in her car seat. “Your daddy’s here, Nat.”

  She kind of just looked at me as if to say, “Who?”

  A tapping at my window made me snatch my head around. There he stood in all his asshole glory wearing a track suit and too much jewelry, looking like an adult male version of my only child. I opened the door, climbed out the car, and said, “Sid…didn’t know you were coming by.”

  Without answering me, he climbed inside the front seat and reached into the back, freeing Nat from her car seat. Lifting out of the car with her in his arms, he smiled at her, and said, “Hey, baby.”

  Nat’s little eyes shifted from him to me as if she was trying to see if this was okay with me. I smiled at her, and said, “Say hi to Daddy, Nat-Nat.”

  “Hi,” she said with uncertainty.

  “You want your mama, huh?” he asked, displaying an unusual amount of common sense.

  I was relieved when he handed her to me. I hated that I had to explain who the hell he was to her whenever he decided to come around. It’d been six months since he last saw her. Poor Nat had no idea who the hell he was. But I wanted her to know him, because I’d never known my father. I just wanted better for Nat, and as stupid as Sid was, I believed he could be a decent father if he tried. He was never abusive toward me, just selfish as hell.

  Balancing Nat on my hip, I nodded toward the front door. “You wanna come in for a minute?” I was thinking maybe if he spent more than two seconds around her, Nat would become more familiar with him.

  He seemed to think about that for a moment. “Yeah.”

  As he followed me inside, I said, “Let me set her up at the table with a snack. You can have a seat if you want. Or you can check out her room. I finally finished decorating it.”

  “Damn, who died?” was his response.

  I sat Nat in her booster seat at the table. “What?”

  “You got all these flowers. Who died?”

  I’d forgotten about the millions of roses Everett sent me that I’d had to find room for even in this spacious house. He really went overboard, but I loved it. “No one,” I answered.

  “Then what you doing with all these flowers?”

  I glanced up to see him staring at the coral bouquet, the one with the card in it. I hurriedly opened a snack-sized container of applesauce for Nat and handed her a spoon before heading into the living room to try and get the card before he saw it.

  I was a second too slow.

  “Who is Everett?”

  I snatched the card from him. “None of your business.”

  He glanced toward the kitchen and lowered his voice. “You fucking him?”

  I frowned. “That’s even less of your business.”

  He shook his head. “You better not be fucking another nigga in my house, Jo. That ain’t what I pay you for. I pay you to take care of my baby, not fuck niggas.”

  “Pay me? I’m not your damn babysitter,” I hissed softly. “I am Natalie’s mother. You are her father. You pay for the support of your child, you fucktard! And this ain’t your house. I got it in the divorce; hence, it’s mine!”

  “You need to watch that damn name-calling, Jo,” he rumbled, barely above a whisper. “All I know is I told your ass when I left not to be fucking a lot of dudes. You ain’t fucking none of my friends, are you? I might want your ass back one day and that shit can’t happen if you been fucking my friends.”

  “Okay, so you can get the fuck out,” I whisper-shouted.

  “So I can’t see my little girl, now? You gon’ keep her from me? That’s what you doing, Jo?”

  “You didn’t come here to see her. You came here to aggravate me and try to exercise some control you do not possess. What I do and who I do it with is none of your business.”

  “You fucking him in my bed?” he rasped.

  “Leave, Sid. Now. Go on home to the woman your I-don’t-want-to-be-married-anymore ass married after you left me. Ain’t she pregnant? Don’t you need to go rub her big-ass feet or something? Or do what you do best, go sell some crack?”

  “I don’t do that shit no more and you know it. And Sonya ain’t got shit to do with this.”

  “Just like you ain’t got shit to do with me…and I’m tired of whisper-arguing with you. Go!”

  “A’ight. I’ma leave, but I’m not playing with your ass. Keep your nigga out my house.”

  After I’d shut the door behind him, I took a deep breath and almost, but not quite, yelled, “Ugh!”

  Nat giggled and yelled, “Rawr!” Applesauce marred her little cheeks as she grinned at me, showing me all her tiny white teeth. Nat had a thing for lions and would roar at any moment.

  I couldn’t help but laugh and think to myself, I need to move out of this damn house since this fool doesn’t understand that it’s no longer his. Then I headed outside to get my groceries out of my trunk.

  13

  “What you doing?!” Bridgette’s voice blared through my phone, piercing my ear as she shouted over the shaking bass line of some song.

  “Shit, what are you doing? Where you at?” I asked.

  “At Vault with Sage, where your ass needs to be!” she hollered.

  I pulled the phone from my ear, put her on speakerphone, and lowered the volume. “Y’all crazy. I am never going back in there. It’s too tiny and the cover charge is so cheap, it’s always full of broke, touchy-feely niggas. No, thanks.”

  “Shiiiit, ain’t nobody fucking with me and Sage! We’ll tag team an ass-whooping on ‘em! Hell!” Bridgette yelled.

  “You damn right!” Sage screamed in agreement.

  Yeah, they were both drunk, which would explain why they were calling me from a loud-ass club.

  “I hope neither of you drunk fools is planning to drive home. Be done killed someone.”

  “Naw, girl. We rode with Viv.”

  “Viv? Since when you start hanging with her again? I thought she was mad at you about something. Didn’t you promise to cover her shift and then bail on her?”

  “Girl, she stay high so much, she don’t even remember that shit.”

  “So you letting her drive and she’s high?”

  “No, she’s not high right now…I don’t think. Anyway, you didn’t answer me. What you doing? Watching Iron Chef or something?”

  “No. Best Baker in America.”

  “That’s just damn sad. You are a healthy young woman with a sexy, rich-as-hell boyfriend and you laying up at home watching fucking Gordon Ramsey?!” Damn, I’d turned the phone down and she was steady getting louder, about to bust the speakers on the thing.

  “First of all, Gordon Ramsey is not on this show, or at least I don’t think he is. Second, Everett is not my boyfriend. Third, what’s he got to do with anything?”

  “Well, he may as well be your boyfriend. And he’s got everything to do with everything. Shit, instead of you laying up there watching folks bake cookies, you need to be getting your cardio in on this dancefloor so you’ll be ready when that man gets back.”

  I sighed. “Be ready for what, Bridgette?”

  “That dick! He been taking it slow, but it’s only a matter of time. Shoot, I’da been done gave him some by now!”

  “Shiiiiiit, I woulda fucked him on sight!” Sage interjected.

  “I know that’s right!” Bridgette shrieked. “He’d have to peel me off that thang!”

  I could almost see them sloppily high-fiving each other.

  “Whatever, y’all. We’re nowhere near that. We’re just getting to know each other. I mean, I just met him a few weeks ago.”

  “Uh-huh. Make sure to eat plenty of yogurt and pineapples so your coochie’ll taste scrumptious to him when he decides to eat it, ‘cause I know he gon’ slurp it up!” Bridgette shouted. “He looks like a damn cunnilinguist!”

  I shook my head as I stared open-mouthed at the phone. This girl... “You need help, Bridge. Like, therapy.”

  “Your ass better listen to me. Look, I’ma leave you to your cake watchi
ng. It’s lit up in here!”

  “Okay—wait! Uh…do the pineapples need to be fresh? I already have some pineapple fruit cups. Will that work?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be fine…you freak. Bye!”

  “Bye, nut.”

  No sooner than I’d hung up with Bridgette, my phone lit up again and Everett’s name popped up on the screen. I was grinning like a fool as I accepted the call. “Hello?”

  “Jo…” I loved the way he said my name, like seeing me or hearing my voice made his day.

  “Hey…how’s it going?”

  “Good, tiring. I miss you.”

  I closed my eyes and sighed internally. He just made me feel so good. “Already? You’ve only been gone a few days.”

  “I missed you the moment I stepped on the plane. Hey, I didn’t wake you, did I? Or your little girl?”

  “No, I was up watching TV. Just got off the phone with Bridgette’s crazy ass. Nat’s still sleep or else she’d be in here by now.”