by Eros, Marata
His hands loosen from my hair, and I slide away, falling back.
He goes with me, soft and spent.
“What you do to me...”
He moves into the cradle of my body and kisses the mouth where his seed just went.
“I don't know how I'll leave you.”
I meet his eyes. “Don't go.”
“I have to.” He groans and rolls over.
“Why?” I can't help my tone. I just found out the biggest news of my life, and I want to revel in it all weekend. I want to pretend everything’s awesome and perfect, but if Mick leaves, I'll have time to think.
And I don't want to.
Mick holds me against him, looking down at my face.
“I've got this acquisition I'm working on.”
I remain sullen.
Mick leans over and kisses me.
Again and again, so deeply I can't draw breath.
I shake as his finger breaches my entrance. He pumps me, and I relent, spreading my legs.
“I'm going to start up more Black Rose clubs—east coast.”
Oh, that's good. For his sister.
He buries his fingers more deeply as my eyelids flutter. I’m so close to coming again that I forget about him leaving and only feel him fucking me with his finger.
“Cum for me, Faren.” He slides three fingers, like a tight triangle, inside me, and his thumb lands on my clit.
My hips buck as my orgasm pulses around his hand.
I gasp, and he catches my hoarse exhalation inside his mouth.
I gradually float down, and his fingers leave me.
His wet fingertips trail my arousal to my ankles and he grips them, easing off the bed.
“Better?” His eyebrows lift.
I nod.
Mick makes his way to the shower.
I admire his profile, the lean muscle perfectly highlighted in the light from the bathroom.
“Besides, I've been playing phone tag with this guy since we began negotiations.” He shrugs. “I hear he's an asshole. At least, I hear that name more than his real one.”
My heart speeds up again. I don't know why. Maybe women's intuition.
“Nothing worse than leaving you to meet Jay Hightower.”
Mick whips a towel off an embedded granite peg in the tile of the bathroom wall.
“Cagey fucker,” he mutters as the water turns on inside the shower.
He doesn't turn and see my expression.
I could never explain the shock.
~ 3 ~
None of my stuff looks right in Mick's place.
I put a heavy glass globe on a beautiful, glossy walnut shelf. Snow swirls around the St. Louis arch.
“You've put that in the same spot twenty times,” Kiki says.
I nod. “It just looks so wrong there.”
She moves behind me. “Faren.”
I don't turn. I know what she's going to say.
“You've got to tell him. I mean... fuck me.”
Her clothes rustle as she paces away. “I was all for pulling the wool over Mick's eyes when I thought it was a virginity toss, but now—you've got a bun in the oven, you're pickin' out drapes…”
“I'm dying.”
Silence.
“Yeah,” she says.
I face her. The gray of Puget Sound is my backdrop. I'm framed by the acres of glass that showcase the sea beyond and below us.
Kiki puts her hands on her hips. “Listen to me, girlfriend—he loves you. He didn't kick your hot ass out when you told him you were PG so I think you're in the clear.”
My hands knot and I shake my head.
“Why didn't Ludwig tell him you're terminal?”
“I don't think they administered the tests that would give those answers.”
Kiki rolls her eyes and flips her long hair behind her shoulder. “Just tell him the truth. You've come clean about why you ditched your clothes for dudes, and it was okay.” Her eyebrows hike to her hairline.
“Yeah,” I say slowly. Though it would never really be okay, I think I've reconciled the why of it.
She gestures at my belly. “And he's cool with your breeder status.”
I burst out laughing.
Kiki forges ahead. “He still humping your socks off?”
I press both hands to my face to cover my blush.
She shakes her head at my obvious embarrassment. “How you ever lap danced is anyone's guess.”
You do what you must.
My hands fall.
“So drop the next bomb and when he's recovered, go have lunch in Paris or something.”
I really laugh then, bending over and holding my ribs. “What?”
“Moneybags is gonna have to make up for his faux pas of going to meet with that turd bird, Jay.”
That sobers me.
He finds out your pregnant, then takes off when a pretty offer comes his way? Not cool.”
My lips turn up. “I think that's 'pretty face.'”
She shrugs. “Whatever.
Kiki arrows her gaze at me. “So what's the peckerwood's story?”
I sigh. “I think he's putting me on notice.”
Kiki scowls. “Oh, gotcha. He thinks he'll force the relationship with you?”
“Yes.”
“You're pregnant with a billionaire's spawn.”
I grin. “Yes, I'm aware.”
“Well, thank Christ. Doesn't that make his little agenda go away?” She glances at her nails and picks the scarlet polish. A glittering flake falls to the glass table top.
The doorbell rings.
I turn, feeling my eyebrows cinch.
Who is it? I walk toward the door.
“Who's that?” Kiki asks, following me.
I shake my head. “I don't know... Probably Thorn.”
The bell sounds again—insistent.
“Hold up, dumb ass,” Kiki mutters.
I tap the code and unlock the door to Mick's condo before I swing it open.
Jay Hightower fills the doorway.
He's so much bigger when he's not beneath me in a chair.
*
“Well, hi, Faren.”
I step back when I should slam the door in his face.
I never texted him back after the pregnancy news.
Kiki looks at my expression and turns to Jay. “Who the fuck are you?”
He gives Kiki a head-to-toe perusal of such comprehensive dismissal that she falters.
Jay doesn't answer her, giving me his attention instead.
“What…” I clear my throat. “Are you doing here?”
Jay says nothing. He looks around the condo, taking in the small touches from my apartment. The dog-eared paperbacks and the jade plant I've had since I was ten stand out.
The snow globe sits high and behind me.
I wish I could hide inside it, far away from the Jays and Ronnies of the world.
“I sent McKenna on a little goose chase with the promise of ten new flesh clubs for him. He's already where he needs to be with my assistant. It buys me time.”
I feel less bad about Mick kicking his ass.
If they met, how well would that go? I'm certain Mick would recognize Jay. I notice his healing bruises are faded to vague yellow tinged smears.
“I think you need to get your rich behind out of here right now,” Kiki says.
He curls his lips into a parody of her smile. It looks like a snarl.
I can't believe I thought Jay was the best lap.
He seems so bad now.
“Tell your black whore her commentary isn't needed.”
Kiki's jaw drops, and I gasp, bracing for the worst.
She moves into his personal space like an exotic ebony leopard. “Your thoughts don't define me. Neither do your insults, your maneuvering, or your pompous prick bullshit. You're just a little man who wants to bully Faren for some fucked up agenda.”
Oh shit.
I step forward. When Kiki gets mad, tact takes a back seat.
Of course, Jay isn't much for diplomacy. I wedge myself between Kiki and Jay as they glare at each other.
“Please, just go.” I put my hand on Jay's expensive suit. His cufflinks remind me so much of Mick, it makes my mouth dry.
“Not until I have assurance that we’ll continue our arrangement.”
“What arrangement?” Kiki turns to me.
“He's blackmailing you?”
Kiki pushes me aside with a well-placed hip. “Listen you, lap. There's an assload of pussy out there that'd love whatever screwed-up shit you're selling, so go round up a bunch of hos and get while the getting's good.”
Oh god.
Jay's chin kicks up as his eyes become slits. “I don't want willing pussy.”
Kiki folds her arms, her chin jutting out. “So you're a rapist?”
Okay.
I walk to the door to show him out. Things have gotten way out of hand.
His strong arm snaps around my waist, and I cry out.
I'm afraid for the little bean inside me.
Jay grunts as Kiki works her magic. He releases me and turns on Kiki, his hand raised.
“You touch her, and I don't care what happens. I'll do nothing you want,” I say in a low voice.
His fist freezes like an asteroid bent on landing.
Kiki's gaze stays on him. “Fuck him. If he wants to beat on women, let him. He can leave a mark, and then he's Right. Where. I. Want. Him.”
His hand drops and stays clenched by his side.
Their chests heave as Kiki dares him.
Jay struggles with a restraint he clearly doesn't possess.
Finally he straightens. Jay's hazel eyes latch onto my face before moving down my body and back up. “I wasn't going to hurt you.”
Right. I'm not convinced. “Following me around, coming to Mick’s place—”
“Luring him away, you creeping stalker,” Kiki says.
“I can be creative, stripper,” he says.
“I've worked for what I have. I don't get all unnatural and infatuated with my clients. You're the pathetic one.”
Enough.
“I'm pregnant.” I drop the statement like the bomb I intend it to be.
I fold my arms.
The silence is so profound it has it's own zip code.
Jay Hightower stares at me.
Say something.
“See?” Kiki says. “Buzz off, ya parasite. Faren's already got a rich stud.”
He steps closer, and I go to move away. His hand wraps around my wrist like a flesh-covered manacle.
“You don't have to be,” he whispers.
“Let me go!” I say with real feeling. Warmth fueled by anger and fear rushes through my body.
“Okay!” Kiki says loudly. “I try to be reasonable, I try to be subtle.”
Huh? It takes me a second to randomly acknowledge the impossibility of subtlety for Kiki.
Suddenly I’m coughing and choking. Jay's hand falls away, and I back up to avoid the brunt. My eyes water without mercy from only the residual as my hands cover my face.
“Sorry, baby,” Kiki says, her index finger depressing her pepper spray. I'm lucky, it misses me directly by a millimeter. We're both coughing.
“Argh!” Jay screams like a pirate, clawing at his eyes.
“That's right, pal,” Kiki says, advancing on Jay. The pepper spray is a constant hiss in the otherwise quiet condo. “Don't go away mad, just go away.”
Mewling sounds crawl from his throat as his arms hit the walls.
Kiki lands a palm on his chest as he gets close to the threshold, and she shoves him through the doorway.
His puffy red eyes try to open, and slits of hazel hate us back.
Kiki slams the door and locks it.
“I'm calling the cops, numbnuts!” she promises loudly through the door.
I hear some shuffling and a low curse.
The distant chime of the elevator sounds.
Kiki places the cap on her spray and slides it into her huge handbag. She runs to every window, jerking them open as fresh air floods the condo.
I park my butt on the bench by the entrance, placing a hand over my belly.
Kiki snaps her purse closed and sets it down on a table. She sweeps a loose strand of hair behind her ear, swiping at her eyes as even the fresh air is barely enough to combat the spray.
“Wow... too many freaks, not enough circuses.”
I laugh, and it comes out like an aborted hiccup.
“It's okay.”
I cry.
I'm not sad, but terror makes me react strangely. I hug Kiki hard, and she strokes my back.
She pulls away. “I think he's a problem.”
Yeah.
“Don't give me that look, Faren. It seems to me that you need to chat with Billionaire Boy, eh?”
“Mick,” I say forlornly.
“Yeah. Tell Mick that this prick is stalking you and using the new strip club franchise deal to force you into doing him.”
I shudder. I don't want to be with Jay. I can still feel my sticky dress from the last lap. I shudder.
The slimy memory coats the inside of my skull. Mick's face as he sees me betray him will be forever etched inside my brain.
I shake my head. “I can't let him lose that deal.”
Kiki steps back, getting on her game face. “Ah, yeah. Ya can. That dodo bird might have more money than God, but he's cut from the same cloth as Ronnie was.” Kiki squeezes my hand. “Y'know I love ya, but I have to say—you seem to attract the weirdos.”
“Except for Mick.”
“Yeah, I’ll give you that.”
We sit in silence for a few moments.
“I think Jay's going to skulk around licking his wounds for a while,” Kiki brightens at the thought.
“And Mick will hightail it back here to give you some more action.” Kiki swings her hips back and forth, and a shaky laugh slips out of me.
She bites her lip so hard a drop of blood blooms on her mouth like a ruby, and she licks it away. “Then you tell him that you're not long for this world. He’ll hire his team of… everyone to deal with Jay, the press, and all the other clowns who want to give my bestie hell.”
“And my baby,” I say, my hand still on my stomach.
“Hell, yeah!”
Kiki jerks the strap of her purse over her shoulder.
“Now let's blow this popsicle stand and visit your mom.”
She pulls me to my feet, our hands clasped together.
I have my mom.
I have Kiki.
I have a job where I give hope to the hopeless.
That silver lining is all I allow.
The storm cloud... I ignore.
~ 4 ~
“Come here, Kandace,” Tannin Mitchell says.
Kiki moves out of the shadows until her thighs press against my mom's bed.
She takes my mom's free hand. “Hi, Tannin.” Her skin is so dark against my mom's sun-starved flesh.
Mom clears her throat, and I release her hand to bring a cup of water with a bendy straw to her lips. Her clear gray eyes, just like my own, meet mine over the top of the cup.
“Thank you, baby.”
She leans back against the pillows.
I look around her new room and sigh. It's beautiful and large.
Mom has her own private nurse and a physical therapist who sees only her.
It's all from Mick. He's a force of nature. He wouldn't say no, back down, or listen to any of my excuses. He can afford to take care of my mom, and he loves me. Therefore, it's my new reality.
Except sometimes it feels as though it's someone else's, and I can't say why.
“So what are you up to, Kandace?”
Kiki's smile lights up her face. “I'm a senior at the university.”
Mom groans, slowly putting her forearm over her eyes. It’s a monumental task for someone who woke from a coma a week ago.
“This is so hard.”
Tears w
ell. “Mom... don't,” I say.
Her arm sort of slides off her forehead. “I remember when Kandace was barely eighteen.”
I roll my eyes. “Me too.” I try to keep the sarcasm away, but thinking about Kiki at seventeen is too much.
“Hey! Shut your pie hole,” Kiki says. “If it wasn't for me, you'd still be in your turtle shell.”
Boy, am I not hiding anymore.
My mom knots her fingers in the million-thread-count sheets. “I guess there's a lot for me to catch up on.”
Kiki's eyes meet mine over the bed.
“What's going on?” Mom looks from one to the other of us.
I've visited Mom every day since she woke, and I’ve managed not to tell her the worst news.
I won’t start now.
“You know that Mick and I are dating?” I ask.
Kiki's eyes bulge, but Mom doesn't notice because she's looking at me.
“Yes, I know who Mr. McKenna is,” she says. She's heard all the stories about the wealthy playboy who owns strips clubs.
I take her hand again, and she gives mine a squeeze. The sun catches the strands of silver hair like tinsel around her face. I tuck a tendril behind her ear.
“Thank you,” she says.
Silence beats us into the confession I begin to make.
“I love him.”
Mom exhales deeply and says nothing.
She releases Kiki's hand and takes both of mine. “That's fine that you're in love”—she glances at Kiki—“and that Kandace is almost done with college. It's all perfect.”
I hear a but coming. My forehead screws up in a frown I feel to my toes.
“But I just woke up, Faren.” Her eyes search mine, trying to pound home a point she's yet to make. “Yesterday you were a senior in high school that my second husband disabled before he tried to beat me to death.”
Hot tears brim and fall from my eyes onto the blanket. My breath hitches, and Kiki leans over the bed to squeeze my shoulder. She makes comforting clucking noises like a mother hen.
Mom lets me cry. “I wake up, and my daughter is all grown up, has a job mending those who are broken, and is dating a renowned player who owns strip clubs. Regardless of what he's done for me, he must be held accountable for his exploitation of you.”
“What? No, Mom, he's not like that.”
Mom shakes her head. “Yes, yes, he very much is. I can read, you know. The papers tell me exactly what he is. Assault charges? You've been a stripper?” Her voice holds the disgust I felt when I did what I had to do.
