Lifting his torso, Jamal looked down at her. “What’s wrong?” he breathed.
“Nothing. Take your clothes off too.”
He removed his pants, then his boxers, letting them fall at the foot of the small bed. Standing there, he looked down at Makayla who was staring up at him with something like awe.
“You are so … beautiful,” she said.
“Who’s the sweet-talker now?”
“No, I mean it. I’ve never seen anything like you.”
“Shut up,” he said grabbing her ankles and tugging her to the edge of the bed.
“No,” Makayla said.
“No?”
“Not like that. I want …”
Jamal waited.
“I want …”
“C’mon. While we’re young. You want what?”
“To be on top,” she forced out.
Jamal grinned. “Yes ma’am.”
Lying on his back, he watched as Makayla went to retrieve a condom he told her she would find in his wallet with two others. He watched as she opened it and with trembling hands, pulled it down over him. He watched as she ran her hands up and down his length, and tried to keep his eyes open.
Then he watched as she positioned herself above him, reached down to open herself, then took his hands and put them on her to replace hers. He watched as her eyes closed when he rubbed her there in circles, and as she lowered herself onto him. The seeing and feeling together were almost too much for him. The tightness at the pit of his stomach intensified. She was so tight and so hot it was going to take a lot to hold back until she got hers.
He heard his own breathing as it intensified, and watched as Makayla grimaced, testing how much she could take. She stopped three-quarters of the way down, and opened her eyes, panting softly.
“God … you feel so good,” she said.
Jamal pressed his thumb even harder against her and felt her clenching and unclenching him in rapid spasms. She was coming again and he wasn’t even fully inside her yet. Damn. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman who was this responsive. If she ever really let go, that would be something …
With a deep, throaty breath, Makayla lowered herself completely, taking him all in, then leaned forward, her mouth on his neck.
“You feel so good,” she said again.
Jamal couldn’t speak. She felt better than good. Slowly, she began to move, and when she did, the bed creaked. The faster she moved, the louder it creaked but neither of them cared. She was climbing toward her peak once again and he was too. The whole damn world could have cracked wide open swallowing them both up, he wouldn’t give a damn. Watching her face contort, her beautiful mouth open wide, Jamal knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold on another second, so he flipped her over onto her back. The bed groaned in protest and for a minute he thought they might break it.
Slowing down, he opened his eyes and looked into hers, realizing that he hadn’t kissed her. All this time, he’d been looking at her mouth, thinking about it and moving his lips across just about every other part of her body … But now was the perfect time to kiss her, when they were in completely in sync, and communing with each other, on a level that seemed to transcend the physical. Makayla lifted her chin, reading in his eyes what he was about to do.
When their lips touched, and his tongue became entwined with hers, it was impossible to hold out any longer. Jamal felt her climax just as his hit, and that was it, he fell deep into the mindless, pleasure-filled abyss, his mouth never parting with hers.
_______________
“Jamal. Jamal, you have to wake up.”
Turning onto his side he groaned and then yawned, finally opening his eyes. Makayla was next to him, her lips were swollen, the lower one even bruised a little bit, and her locs going in a million directions. She was still naked. Reaching forward, he ran two fingers down the side of her face and she smiled.
“It’s almost six. And my Nana wakes up at six-thirty, like setting a clock. You have to go,” she whispered. “I’m sorry …”
“It’s okay,” he said, his voice hoarse. “But you’re going to need to work that out. I’m not sneaking out every time like …”
“Every time?” Makayla said. “You’d spend the night here?”
“I just did, didn’t I?”
“It’s been an hour forty minutes, maybe.”
“Okay, so next time I’ll get here at nine,” he said. “And maybe you’ll feed me first. Because I’m starving right now and from what you’re saying, breakfast just ain’t in the cards.”
“No, it’s not. So …”
Makayla made as though to sit up so he pulled her back down. Lowering a hand between them, he slid it between her legs and watched her eyes flutter shut and her lips part. She was still wet. Lifting her leg, he draped it over his thigh and moved closer.
“Jamal,” she said in quiet protest, opening her eyes again to look at him, almost pleading.
“Yeah?” He moved closer still, positioning himself so he was touching her, pushing against but not inside her.
Makayla gripped him in her hand, positioning him so he was gliding between her lips, her slickness coating him, bathing him in warmth.
“You getting the condom or am I?” he asked. “Because if you think I’m leaving here without …”
“We don’t have time for all that,” Makayla said, moving her hips up and down.
“So you better stop …”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” she said. “I know what won’t take too long.”
And before he could get another word out, she had pulled back, dived under the sheets and taken him in her mouth. Bucking upward in surprise, Jamal had to bite back the loud curse that almost escaped his lips.
Yeah, she was right. This wouldn’t take long at all.
16
“I ain’t wearing that shit!”
Devin tossed the jacket back at the stylist who had handed it to him, striding toward the exit. Makayla took a deep breath and looked at Jamal who was watching from across the studio.
“I’m telling you, Makayla, I’m not in the mood for his bullshit today. You better handle this!” Then he took off in the opposite direction, leaving her to figure out which of the men in her life she should go chasing after.
She chose Devin, grabbing his shoulder just before he opened the door.
“I’m gettin’ sick of him tellin’ you to handle me, Kay. Next time he say that, I’ma punch his ass out. He got somethin’ to say, he needs to say that shit to me!”
“Devin,” she said, keeping her voice low. “You need to …”
“And I’m gettin’ sick of you tellin’ me what I ‘need to’.”
“They’re just trying different looks. Most of these shots won’t even see the light of day. So what if you hate the jacket? If it’s not you, that’ll probably come across in the shot and they’ll move on. All you need …”
Devin looked at her warningly.
“Okay, fine. Let me go talk to Jamal. I’m sure he doesn’t care about the stupid jacket. He just wants to see you act like a participant in this thing, that’s all. So you can’t be throwing stuff around and acting like such a dick all the time.”
“Oh, I’m acting like a dick?”
“Yes. You are. Everyone has been here as long as you, some of us longer. And you’re the only one throwing tantrums.”
Devin sighed. “I’ll apologize to the stylist. But not to him. You take care of your boyfriend, and I’ll take care of the style team.”
Boyfriend. It still took a lot for her not to smile when Devin said that. Even though he meant it sarcastically, Makayla was still marveling at the fact that she was with Jamal. Like with him. Things were still discreet at work, but she’d told Devin about a week earlier, and he was predictably negative about the whole thing. She’d waited almost a month before mentioning it because part of her wanted to be sure it would … take, and not be something that disappeared after a couple hot rolls
in the sack.
But now that Devin did know, Makayla had a feeling his being difficult during the session was basically about his jealousy and not at all about the “corndog” clothes he was being asked to be photographed wearing.
For two days now, Makayla had been dreading the shoot. Devin hated to have his appearance tinkered with, and was particularly disdainful of the image-making part of the music business. So she knew he was going to be in a mood today, she just hadn’t known it would involve tossing things around on set. And to make it worse, it led to Jamal yelling at her in front of a roomful of people. Her head knew it was all about the job, but God, it hurt her heart when he was tough on her like that. Especially now that he was all the way inside her. Not part of the way, all the way.
And lately—she knew it wasn’t her imagination—he was very tough on her. In staff meetings, he was snappish, sometimes cutting her off midsentence, rejecting her ideas before she even had a chance to get them out completely. Even Harper had noticed, once asking Makayla whether she’d shot his dog or something. DeJuan noticed too, but he seemed to get some satisfaction out of it.
Once, he’d cut her so hard, Makayla felt the tears stinging at the back of her eyes. Coming from a boss, something like that would never make her cry, but from her man … It was difficult, approaching impossible to separate the two. And if it wasn’t for how they were together, when they were alone—which was nothing short of amazing—she would almost believe he regretted getting anything started with her.
She found Jamal in the office at the back of the studio, angrily punching something out on his phone, like it had offended him somehow. Just looking at his hands made her horny. Of all things, his hands. Other parts of him aroused her just as well—his lips, full and thick, the upper just as soft as the lower. The things he did with those lips.
“Hey. I need to …” He looked up from his phone, his forehead creased as he indicated the chair opposite his.
Makayla sat, waiting until he finished his thought.
“I’m sorry I shouted at you out there.”
Makayla shrugged. “It was …”
Jamal shook his head and took a breath. “Don’t say it was nothing. I don’t talk to my staff like that. If it was anyone else it never would’ve …” He took another breath and his brow wrinkled further. “I’m having a hard time with this, to be honest.”
Makayla felt her heart begin to beat faster and harder in her chest. “Hard time with …”
“I’ve been … overcompensating, I guess,” Jamal continued. “In trying to prove I don’t like you more than everyone else, I’ve been acting like I like you … less.”
Makayla nodded, letting him go on.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said again.
Then he rolled his chair closer and leaned in, kissing her on the neck. Just a light brushing of his lips against her skin and she was on fire. Turning her head, she let him nuzzle her, his nose just barely nudging hers. Makayla sighed.
“So …” Jamal pulled back a little, in business-mode once again. “What’s his deal today?”
Makayla shrugged yet again.
“He’s pissed, right? Because of you and me?”
“Maybe. Devin’s temperamental.”
“Well you’re going to have to figure out a way to get him in line. That’s what your job is right now. A lot’s riding on this.”
“I know you invested a lot of money …”
“Not just the money. There’s a lot more than that.”
“Like …”
“We’ll talk about it some other time. But for right now, I need you to get him straight. I can’t be going through this every time I suggest he do something new or different.”
“I understand.”
“Okay. Well, I’m going to take off. I think I’m all Devin’ed out for one day. Call me when the session’s done and let me know how it turned out.” He stood, so she stood with him, and then he put an arm about her waist and pulled her against him. “What’re you doing later?”
“Nothing. Tonight’s going to be an early one.”
“Come spend tomorrow night with me. I want to take you somewhere and it’ll be late when we get back.”
“I’ll see. I need to have someone with Nana.”
“I meant to talk to you about that. I know a Jamaican lady. Does home health-aide work; she’s licensed, reliable …”
“Jamal I can’t afford that,” Makayla said shaking her head.
“I’ll take care of it. You could use a night off, and I want you to spend it with me.”
He looked so serious, so … un-Jamal-like that all she could do was nod.
“Good. So tomorrow bring your stuff to work so we can leave together. And bring something nice, for a party; we’re going out.”
Once Jamal was gone, Devin seemed to grow a new cooperative spirit, and everything was running smoothly all of a sudden. He let the stylists experiment with different looks, even the ones he clearly hated. Knowing she should be grateful that her little come-to-Jesus talk had worked, Makayla instead wanted to punch him in the head. Why was it he only acted a fool long enough to make it seem to Jamal like she didn’t have things under control? If she didn’t know better, she would think he was deliberately trying to sabotage her gig. Or her new relationship.
But actually, that wasn’t too farfetched.
When she was three and he was four-years old, Devin was one of several kids from the neighborhood her grandmother looked after. Quiet and withdrawn; that was how Makayla remembered him. While all the other kids were playing or watching cartoons, he liked to sit with Nana in the kitchen, or follow her around the apartment. He had a head full of wild, curly, nappy hair, and those blue-green eyes of his were wide and large on his too-thin face. Sometimes when his mother dropped him off, his clothes were filthy; so dirty that Nana stripped him down to almost nothing and put them in the laundry in their building’s basement at her own expense.
Once in a while, he would have to wear one of Makayla’s girlie shorts or t-shirts while his clothes were being washed. The other kids made fun of him, and his eyes would fill with tears, but they never fell; he just kept blinking over and over, willing them away. Around six o’clock each evening, parents would start showing up to retrieve their kids. But Devin’s mother only sometimes did. And when she showed, it was usually well into the evening; and by then Devin would have already been fed dinner, and made to share Makayla’s bed.
Soon, his mother made no pretense of the fact that she left him there so he could eat, and be bathed and properly looked after. And Makayla grew accustomed to having him around. She woke up with Devin in her bed almost half the nights in each week. And Nana made him breakfast and dinner just about as often as she made it just for Makayla and herself. He became part of their little family.
And as for Devin’s own family? Well, it was complicated. His mother wasn’t getting high or drunk, her vice was men. The no-good variety. They beat her, they beat her kid, they stole her money; and though she did not, many of them got high and drunk. There was one man, who showed up around the time Devin was eight-years old who had had a particularly profound negative impact. His name was Cyrus, and for about four years, Cyrus was the Boogie Man—the subject of all Devin’s nightmares. Devin had survived Cyrus, but Makayla believed he had never quite recovered from him.
During all those years, being at Makayla’s and sharing her Nana, Devin became possessive. Every other friend Makayla had, he viewed as a threat, often waging all-out war against them until they grew weary of the fight and gave up. By the time she was thirteen, Makayla had come to think of Devin as part of her, inextricable and inevitable. She couldn’t give him up, no matter how it stung to have girlfriend after girlfriend (and later, boyfriends too) scared away. He was hers, and she was his.
Sometimes, now that they were adults, the word ‘co-dependent’ came to mind when Makayla thought about how she and Devin were together. But she didn’t think that word often, because
it came with certain negative connotations that she was unwilling to ascribe to the deep love and unbreakable bond they had with each other.
So maybe Devin was trying to scare Jamal away.
But that didn’t matter. She had no intention of losing either of them.
_______________
“You don’t have hamburger buns. Just regular white bread.”
“So you’re feeding us ghetto-burgers for dinner?” Makayla teased, nudging Devin in the side.
“Ghetto-burgers with cheese,” he corrected.
“That’s how I always made y’all hamburgers. What you mean ghetto-burger?”
Makayla turned. Her grandmother was standing at the door to the kitchen, looking unusually spry. Having Devin over had energized her, so much so that she’d insisted on having her evening bath early, and coming to sit at the kitchen table to eat dinner with them. Devin was doing the cooking, having made the offer as an apology for being difficult during the photo shoot. Although there was a part of her that wanted to drag out her displeasure and punish him for being an ass yet again, Makayla knew there was no way she would be able to pull it off.
Watching Devin stand at the stove, flipping over the hamburger patties with all the seriousness of Jacques Pepin preparing a gourmet meal, she felt the swell of her love for him, and a million similar memories came rushing back. He had always liked cooking for them.
When they were kids, he learned how by hanging out with Nana in the kitchen all the time. Later, when her grandmother’s health started its decline, and Makayla was exhausted from all the new responsibilities of caring for an elderly person and the marathon of doctors’ visits, she took a long time to develop a routine. During that time, Devin came over every evening for almost two weeks straight to make them dinner, help clean the apartment or just sit around and keep Nana company while Makayla took a nap. Yet, there’d never been a word of complaint. So at least in Makayla’s eyes, he’d earned some patience and understanding when he complained about the tyrannical process of being professionally groomed; especially since he had never been much of a fan of change to begin with.
The Come Up Page 19
