by Tyla Walker
Honest Man
A BWWM Romance
Tyla Walker
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Contents
Description
Also by Tyla Walker
1. John
2. Charlene
3. John
4. Charlene
5. John
6. Charlene
7. John
8. Charlene
9. John
10. Charlene
11. John
12. Charlene
13. John
14. Charlene
15. John
16. Charlene
17. John
18. Charlene
19. John
20. Charlene
Also by Tyla Walker
Description
Charlene Jamieson has a good life selling designer dresses and taking care of her daughter. It’s hard, but as a black woman, she figures things could be worse. But then her best friend, John, comes over to her store one day.
And says he wants to marry her.
These white boys are crazy, right? Always getting into fake marriages and stuff. Charlene is about to say no forget it, but then she realizes that he won’t stop. Besides, she’s read enough romances to know she has to say yes.
But romance book hero’s are nothing like John.
Sure. He’s fine as hell. He’s got bedroom eyes and a smile that will melt everything off. But he’s a total ladies man. A playboy. And he’s not looking to quit anytime. That’s great and all, but there’s something else wrong.
Charlene is in love with John.
Will it be enough to get John off his crazy womanizing ways? Will Charlene still love him? Or will he burn them both?
Find out in this sizzling BWWM romance!
Also by Tyla Walker
The Texas Property Billionaire’s Nanny
The Oil Tycoon’s Surrogate
Fake Forever
Wife Arrangement
Fake Wedding
Not That White Boy
Hate To Love You
Fake Marriage
Love After A Cheater
Always Been You
The Billionaire Professor’s Curvy Student
The Billionaire President’s Love Bunny
The Texas Bad Boy Billionaire’s Forbidden Love
Starlet For the Single Dad
Having the Ex-Military Billionaire’s Baby
A Good Woman
Blending a New Family
Pretend Wife
A Single Mom’s True Love
Marriage of Convenience
The Texas CEO’s Nanny
Time For Family
My Crazy White Boy
One
John
“So, you doing anything tonight?” I ask while trying to see her nametag, “Suzy? That’s a lovely name.”
Her eyes dart away to the floor, but her flushed cheeks tell me all that I need to know, “Mr. Jackson, what did you have in mind tonight?” She pretends to type away in her computer, but I can clearly see that either she’s typing gibberish, or trying to summon Cthulhu from the internet.
I sit on the edge of her desk and lean closer to her, “I’d tell you, but I can’t say it right here. It’s a company secret. How about we step inside the closet for a bit?”
She giggles but nods. Jackpot.
But the intercom from the side of her desk suddenly speaks up, “John, stop flirting with my secretary and get your ass inside…now!”
I jump off the desk and immediately fix myself up. I scan around the room to find a camera in the upper corner of the room. I smile and wave at it, “Yes, father.”
“See ya later, Suzy,” I say as I discretely slide her my calling card. Out of the corner, I can see her slip it inside her bra as I step inside the President’s office.
My father’s room is as exquisite as I last saw it. The spacious room is a clear reflection of his frighteningly precise efficiency. Besides a few sofas for the guests, my father’s desk and laptop are the only things in his hallowed office.
“Hey, you called for me?” I greet. He is unfazed as he continues to type on his laptop.
“Sit,” he commands.
It doesn’t take me a few seconds to walk up to the chair in front of his chair and sit. The sooner this is done, the sooner I can get back to Suzy.
He finally closes his laptop and looks at me, “John, whatever you’re thinking about doing to Suzy, I want it to stop. She’s the fourth secretary I’ve lost this month alone. You’re giving HR too much of a headache.”
I feign surprise, “Me? How could you blame your only beautiful son, father? I would never///“
He snaps his fingers. A huge monitor slides down from the ceiling behind him. “Angel, play zero-one-twelve-nineteen.”
The monitor behind him pings to life and shows a video of me getting it on with Lilet, father’s previous secretary. The next video shows my exciting tryst with Angie, Lilet’s sister, inside the executive boardroom.
“Okay…so maybe I’ve been getting a little out of hand. But I swear Angie was the last one…”
He interrupts me by raising his index finger at me, “Oh, I’m not done yet,” he comments.
The next video shows me naked on dad’s desk getting ridden on by Amanda, this Scandinavian model I met last night. Huh, guess it wasn’t that long since I was back here in his office.
“Oh, you’ll love this. Amanda here said I was a load of crap when I said that I knew Hugh Jackson. She said that there’s no way that the owner of the most successful jewelry franchise in the world would be related to a jerk like me. Can you imagine?”
“John!” he yells. “Do you know how much bleach I had the cleaning crew use all over my office? I looked like I was trying to cover up a murder!”
Damn. But I must admit, there was a lot of fluid that was exchanged that evening. Great times.
“John,” he says as he finally calms down, “You don’t know how much I’ve had to struggle to make Stacy’s as one of the most recognizable jewelry brands because you were just a kid back then. But all my hard work is finally starting to pay off. And I need your help for us to benefit from this.”
There he goes again about how hard he worked for his company. Boring.
“Look, it’s not like I respect you as a businessman. You’ve certainly done well for yourself opening that dealership that only sells rare, antique cars, along with a few high-end luxury cars.”
“That dealership has a name, Dad.”
“I’m not saying it.”
“Oh, you think ‘Stacy’s’ was such a great name when you first started out? You sound like a fucking rip-off of a department store.”
“Fine, I respect you for making…ergh… ‘Johnny’s Baller-Ass Rides’ into quite the successful enterprise that it is today.”
“Holla!” I yell.
“Enough. You may have earned my respect, but you have not yet earned my approval. I still own the majority shares of your company. If I wanted to, I could kick you out of there before you can even leave the office.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, I will, John. Unless you help me. Do this one last thing for me. And I’ll leave you and your cute little company alone for the rest of your life. What do you say?”
“It’s not like I have a choice,” I say
.
“Good,” he says as he claps his hand, and the monitor behind him shows the face of a familiar tycoon.
“What the hell, Dad? What’s up with all these gadgets? You’re a freaking jeweler. Are you some kind of Bond villain now too?” I comment.
He ignores me, “Mr. Saneki here is…you could say my Japanese counterpart. He is just as successful as I am in the world of precious stones, John. And he is interested in Stacy’s.”
“Dad, you’re not saying…”
“But I am saying it, my boy. I want Saneki-san to purchase Stacy’s. And he’s willing to buy it at 10 cents on the dollar more than its price on the market. But he wants to do it with someone he trusts. And as you know, the Japanese are conservative people. He can’t trust someone with a son who’s slept with every skirt in town. So, get your act together and get married, John. Before the month is over. That will be all.”
“But I haven’t even agreed to…”
“I said that will be all,” he dismisses.
“I won’t let you down,” I say before I leave his room.
Fuck. How the hell am I supposed to get married in a month? And it has to be a girl that can impress an old Japanese tycoon.
But in my darkest moment, one face comes to mind.
My best friend, Charlene.
Two
Charlene
Ahh, there’s nothing better than the smell of vintage clothing in the afternoon. I must have done these walks thousands of times, but I can never get enough of it. Who would have guessed that a little black girl from Queens would one day be able to grow up and get to be able to open up her own antique cloth shop, designing unique pieces and period pieces?
Surrounded by my own successful dresses, drinking the perfect cup of tea, and not a worry in the world.
“Nothing can ruin this day!” I say to myself.
“Charlene!” screams someone from the window behind me.
I scream and drop the cup of tea on the floor. Good thing I wasn’t standing near any dresses.
The door opens, and in comes the devil himself, John Jackson, my best friend.
“John, you shouldn’t have,” I say, forcing myself to grin.
“What do you mean?” he asks as he gives me a hug, “I didn’t bring you anything,” he says.
“Well, I mean, you shouldn’t have…whatever it is that brought you here. You shouldn’t have,” I joked.
He laughs, “Don’t ever change, Charlene.”
“Well, that makes one of us, John. To what do I owe this…visit today?” I ask. In the corner of my eye, at least two of my customers are already eyeing John. I can’t say I blame them. He is, in fact, quite the brown-haired blue-eyed specimen. Can you ladies please not drool over my Arabian rug, please?
“How’s it going?” John asks.
“Just perfect. Well, almost perfect. You lookin’ for a dress, perhaps?”
“Nah,” he replies, “Though I’m not to turn away from ladies who look sexy in them.”
One of the ladies gasp. John flashes one of his famous, sexy smiles.
“Yeah, don’t ever change, John,” I say sarcastically. “Can you at least convince them to buy a dress before sleeping with them?”
“Silly, Charlene. Listen, I’m sorry that I just popped out of the blue, but as my best friend, I believe that you have the first right to help your favorite best friend in the whole world.”
“You do know that being the best friend already makes you the favorite friend, right?”
John smirks, “Psht, of course, I do. I just figured that on account of how amazing of a person you are that you’d have a bazillion best friends, and it goes without saying that I am your favorite of them all.”
This time I can no longer contain my laughter. The sheer confidence and self-entitlement of this man is utterly mind-boggling.
“So, what’s new?” I ask.
For the first time in a very long time, I watch John’s face metamorph from the carefree slacker that I’ve always known since we were young, into an anxious mess. I keep forgetting that deep down inside, John is a serious individual who treats his father with the utmost respect.
“It’s my Dad, again. You know how he gets a kick out of messing with me? Well, this time, he just brought out the big guns. He says he’s going to kick me out of Johnny’s Baller Rides if I don’t show him that I’m a changed man.”
I still can’t believe that he has a straight face when he says his company’s name. Johnny’s Baller-Ass Rides? Though I have to hand it to him, the name clearly reflects the personality of the owner, a white, rich kid who thinks he from the projects.
“Your father wants to kick you out of JBR because you slept with some European girl on his own desk? Overreacting much, right?”
“I know! Wait. How did you know about that?” he asks.
“Because you video chatted me while you were doing it, John. How drunk were you last night?”
“Oh, wow. Really? Sorry about all that. If it’s any consolation, it’s actually a compliment that I’m still thinking of you when I’m drunk bestie,” he says as he playfully punches me on the arm.
“Yeah, well, next time, keep your thoughts to yourself,” I say jokingly.
“Anyways,” John continues, “Dad wants to sell the company to some old geezer from Japan. But the old geezer probably won’t push through with the deal if he checks and finds that I’ve been ‘sleeping around.’”
“So, just stop sleeping around,” I suggest.
“That’s what I wanted to say! But he just cut me off and said that I should get married and in a hurry too.”
God have mercy on that unlucky girl’s soul.
“Which brings me here…”
“No,” I quickly answer.
“Why does everyone always cut me off today? You haven’t even heard…”
“No. Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen,” I quickly interrupt him. “I’ve read enough romance books to know what you’re gonna ask me for and the answer is NO!”
John brings out his puppy eyes.
Sigh.
I do admit, I do owe Mr. Jackson a lot for lending me the capital to open up my shop. He won’t even let me pay the interest on the loan. The guy is a saint. How the man ended up fathering John is a miracle, although I’m not sure if it’s from God or something else entirely who made the miracle possible.
I give him a shy nod. I don’t want to make him think that I actually want to do it. John almost jumps for joy.
“Fuck yeah!” he celebrates, his shout resonating around the shop.
“Uncle Johnny!” shouts my four-year-old daughter, Brittany, somewhere behind me.
I give John a mad look for cursing near my daughter. I can only hope that she didn’t hear him say it.
Brittany runs into his arms, “Uncle Johnny!” she once again squealed.
“There’s my little angel!” greets John as he carries Brittany in his arms.
Even my girl can’t resist his charm. The charm that sends girls flying to his bed. And now he wants to try and pretend that he’s not that kind of guy?
I may have bitten off more than I can chew here.
But I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing this for Mr. Jackson. It’s the least I can do after everything that he’s done for me.
My heart feels lighter as I see Brittany beaming in John’s arms. But can only watch in horror as she speaks to John.
“What does fuck yeah mean, Uncle Johnny?”
Three
John
First of all, let’s give it up for Charlene. Like a round of applause. I mean it. Get up and get those damn hands together. Alright, alright. Too dramatic. This is my way of showing how much I respect my best friend.
I’m a dick when it comes to women. They love it, in fact. My 10-incher. Because my dick, and my moves, can make them multiple orgasm over and over again until they get sore. Until they can’t take no more.
And even when they’re already sore, they don’t let me stop
. They still want me to bang and crush their pussy, fuck them nonstop. It’s just what I do. After, I leave them be. What did I tell you? I’m a dick and I ain’t embarrassed by it.
When it comes to Charlene, though. Things are different. I treat her differently. We’ve been friends for so long and I’ve seen how she raised little Brittany on her own ever since her late husband passed away in a car crash.
Sudden turn of events in my narration, right? From fucking to death? Yeah. Well, the latter wasn’t amusing at all. It was difficult for her. For her, most of all. Plus, the thing was that everybody felt sympathetic but they didn’t give a shit about helping her out.
She did it on her own and didn’t complain about it. I, along with my fam, and her fam of course, were the only ones there at her side to help her though it. Not that she needed it.
So if she’s going to be my fake-wife, there’s no one else better who can fill the position but her. Also, there’s no other woman I can stand for so long but her. If we’re going to do this right, we’d have to play our roles well.
That means sticking to it for as long as we can, until my shares in the business are given to me instead of being sold to some motherfucking goon who won’t have even half the creativity which I carry in my balls
If those shares are sold off, they’ll probably be merged, or worse, acquired by some other company. They won’t be concerned about our business brand and name. They’ll only be concerned about making more money.
