Show and Tell

by Niobia Bryant

  I have to admit that the bastard looks good.

  He eyes me with open hostility before he picks the papers up.

  “I want to suggest . . . that we sit down, just you and me, and work out a joint custody agreement. I never wanted to take Tiffany from you. Never. It’s you that wants to completely wipe a mother from a child’s life.” I lick my lips as I sit back in my chair and watch him. “I don’t want any child support as long as you continue what you’re already doing on your own.”

  His face is so angry but that look on his face just empowers me. I have him by the nuts and if I wasn’t a child of God working on being an even better child of God I wouldn’t be so gracious to offer joint custody.

  “You full of shit, bitch,” he yells as he flings the papers across the room. “This is a bunch of lies.”

  I calmly rise from my seat and pick up each one. “I don’t know if they are or not. I haven’t seen you in almost a year and I’m not an insider to your camp or one of your reps that’s reported in this article. All I do know is that I am mother fighting for her child and I have to give my lawyer any evidence that shows that you are unfit.”

  He puts his hands on his hips as the bright sun of spring shines through the window and makes his diamonds glisten as if they are wet. “If you believe that trash then why would you offer joint custody then, Moët?”

  I bang my fist on the table as the fire fills my eyes. “Because . . . I . . . have . . . never . . . WANTED TIFFANY OUT OF YOUR LIFE YOU ASSHOLE!”

  I bite my lip to stop any more of a tirade as I point and look heavenward. “Forgive me Lord. I’m trying. You know I’m trying.”

  The door opens and the attorneys both rush in. I calmly smooth my white pencil skirt over my hips as I reclaim my seat and look down at the covers of the magazines in front of me.

  Bones pulls his attorney to the other side of the room while Helen whispers to me, “I didn’t leave you two alone to fight, Latoya,” she reprimands me.

  I don’t even respond to her because I am too busy thanking God as I look down at the tabloid headlines: “MULTIPLATINUM RAPPER MILLION DOLLAR CRACK HABIT” and “THE FREAKY (AND WEIRD) SEXUAL FETISHES OF RAPPER BONES” and “GUESS WHO IS THE LATEST GAY RAPPER? (THAT’S RIGHT RAP STAR . . . BONES)!!!”

  All of it is enough for the judge to take a closer look at his lifestyle and I know for a fact that he blazes more trees than twelve Snoop Dogg’s and the last thing his ass wants to do in the next thirty days is piss in a damn cup.

  These tabloids just evened the scales for me and I look at it (no matter how unorthodox) as a blessing.

  “Taquan, can I ask you something?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I know you’re a virgin but have you ever cum before?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you masturbate?”

  “Latoya.”

  “I’m just curious.”

  “Yes, I’ve masturbated before.”

  “So masturbation is not considered fornication. Right?”

  “Technically? No, it’s not.”

  “Good. Open your front door.” I snap my cell phone closed and loosen the tie on my trench coat.

  As soon as the front door to his apartment opens, I step inside with my tote bag swinging from my hand. He looks at me nervous as hell about my intentions.

  I reach up and lightly kiss his lips. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to try and seduce you again.”

  He visibly relaxes. “What’s in the bag?” he asks, looking way too tempting in his wifebeater and red basketball shorts. He must put all that pent-up sex drive into working out because the deacon’s body is ripped.

  I sit down on his leather sectional and reach for the remote to turn off the game on the big screen television. I kick off my shoes and reach down into my bag of tricks as Taquan comes over to sit in front of me on the oversized coffee table in front of the sofa.

  “How did the meeting go today?” he asks as he looks down at me rummaging through the bag.

  “They asked for a continuance,” I tell him as my hand closes around just what I’m looking for.

  “You seem okay with it?”

  “I have a feeling I finally have Bones right where I want him.”

  Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

  “What is that?” he asks.

  I smile as I look over at him. “I’m not Scarface but let me introduce you to my little friend.”

  His eyes get wide as I rub my vibrating ten-inch dildo from my knee to my inner thigh as I look at him from hooded eyes and lick my lips. “This is called the middle ground between what you want and what’s right. This is my compromise,” I tell him in a husky, soft, and sexy voice as I turn the dildo off and sit forward to caress the side of his face. “I don’t want you to make love to me but I want you to touch me and kiss me and hold me. I want you to watch me play with this and if you feel the need to do you, then I want to watch you too. You feel me?”

  He sits forward and grabs my face with his hands and kisses me like I am the best thing since sliced bread. “Latoya,” he moans against my lips before he licks them lightly.

  As he kisses my lips a dozen times I keep my eyes open and on him. “I’m not trying to make you be something you don’t want to be or make you do anything you don’t want to do. This is something we do anyway . . . so why not do it together and share something natural . . . together.”

  I stand up and open the trench. He makes a face that looks painful but I know is all about pleasure as he takes in all my naked glory. I bend over with my round caramel ass high in the air as I lick and kiss his mouth. “The choice is yours, baby,” I whisper against his lips before I pick up my dildo and walk away to head to his bedroom.

  I lay across his bed with my legs spread wide as I run my hands from my soft thighs to the aching nipples of my breasts. I lick my lips at the pleasure I give myself. Knowing I’m in his bed and he’s in the next room excites me even more.

  Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

  I open my eyes to see Taquan standing at the foot of the bed, naked with his own hard dick in one hand and my vibrating dildo in the other.

  I moan in anticipation. “This is about releasing that pressure until the time we can be together. Release me, Taquan. Release me.”

  As he climbs on the bed beside me, I know that I really want all of him and even though I won’t have that of him tonight, for now . . . this will do.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Cristal

  Inever thought Mohammed would cheat. Maybe it is because I think highly of myself and I just assumed he did too or maybe it was because I truly never cheated on him and I just felt like he should trust me not to do the same thing to him that I did to Sahad . . . with him.

  The girls told me what they saw. I confronted him and he didn’t deny it. He said they were just friends. She was in town visiting and they were just chilling. And then he challenges me to believe him just like I always challenge him to believe me when I dip to hang out in NYC with Carolyn.

  Funny thing is we had some of the best sex ever that night. I think we both were trying to prove something to each other.

  Me: My pussy is so much better than hers.

  Him: You should be here to take care of this good-ass dick.

  But a part of me is hurting to think of Mohammed and his ex still dealing. A part of me is hurting real bad.

  I wish my girls were here with me or I was with them. They would understand. They would know what to say. Carolyn will just wave her hand like she is shooing a fly and say good riddance.

  I look around at the celebrities, the wannabes, and the gonnabes of New York’s Butter restaurant. I miss Mohammed and his realness.

  I lean in close to Carolyn as we sit on the banquette. “Carolyn, I think I’m going to head on home,” I tell her as I pick up my clutch from the table.

  “But our food hasn’t even arrived yet,” she tells me, looking quite pretty in all white with bold gold jewelry.

  “I’m not fe
eling well,” I lie.

  “Well, you’ve had quite a bit to drink.” She pats my hand. “Take my car. I’ll just give Marc your regrets.”

  Fuck Marc. Fuck this star studded place. I just want to be in Mohammed’s arms. “Thanks, Carolyn,” I tell her, air kissing her cheeks before I rise to my feet.

  “I’ll call you.”

  Carolyn has become that surrogate mother I always dreamed of. Although she agreed with Alizé that another day spa is the last thing New York needs, she still will back my business . . . once I decide on one.

  “Look-a-here, look-a-here.”

  I just stepped outside the restaurant when Sahad steps right in my path. Nothing about him had changed. Not his raw sex appeal or the rich quality of his clothes on his tall frame or that handsome, angular face. He raises his hand and the lights from the restaurant make his ring truly “bling” as he removes his shades. There is nothing but hate in his eyes as he looks at me.

  “Who knew your little Rasta handyman could afford to treat you to such a fine establishment,” he says snidely in a voice that is way too loud.

  I am immediately filled with anger. “Just go inside and enjoy your evening, Sahad.” I try to push past him to get to the valet stand but he steps to the left in my path.

  “You know I feel sorry for Mr. Lover Lover because he can’t afford a money-hungry bitch like you and soon someone with deeper pockets is gonna bum rush his coconut-loving ass right out of your life.”

  “The way he bum rushed your ghetto fabulous ass right out of mine,” I shoot back as the lights of the paparazzi’s cameras flash like crazy.

  “Dayum,” he says in an exaggerated fashion as he looks down at me with eyes colder than every bit of diamond Chris Aire jewelry that he is wearing. “Truth hurts, huh?”

  Yes, it does. I think of Marc and all the gifts I have accepted from a man I do not know. Still, none of this is any of his business.

  I step close to him and look up into his face without enough anger of my own in my eyes. “Leave me the fuck alone and get the fuck on with your life and stop letting the fact that a man with smaller pockets and a bigger dick took me from you.”

  He grabs my wrist and I do not break a sweat.

  “A nice little civil suit is just what a golddigger like me wants . . . especially with all these witnesses.”

  He lets me go with a quickness. “Man, fuck you.”

  I push past him. “No, fuck you,” I tell him over my shoulder before I walk away.

  I do not relax until I am in the back of Carolyn’s limo headed out the city to New Jersey and back on the Garden State Parkway.

  As soon as I walk into the house I strip and make my way to the bedroom to climb into the bed beside Mohammed and wrap my arms and legs around his strong, muscular frame. And tonight as he stirs in his sleep there are no questions. No who, what, when, where, or how. He just presses a loving kiss to my forehead and wraps his arms around me to pull me even closer to his warmth before we fall asleep.

  The steady buzzing of something vibrating awakens me the next morning. My cell phone. I lift my head from the bed as I lay on my belly. I am disappointed to find the bed empty. I had plans to wake before him and give him just the lip service needed to awaken him.

  With a small stretch, I roll over in bed, tangling my legs in the covers, as I reach down into my purse on the nightstand. I frown at the sight of Alizé’s mother’s house phone. Oh God, did something happen to Ze?

  I jerk the phone open. “Ms. Winters?”

  “Girl, this me. This ain’t my mama,” Alizé snaps playfully.

  “What are you doing there?” I ask as I sit up in bed exposing my breasts as the sheet falls to my waist.

  “If you’d call a bitch or return a bitch’s phone call your scandalous ass would know I moved back home.”

  “Girl it is too early for that much at-ti-tude,” I tell her as I wipe sleep from my eyes.

  “Well, is it too early for some celebrity gossip?”

  “Can you call me back—”

  “About you and Sahad,” she slides in with way too much ease.

  “What? What do you mean? What are you saying? What are you talking about?” I ask her, all the words coming out of me in a rush as my eyes dart around the room.

  “You know I have to get me some E! in the morning while I’m getting ready for work. Well, news of your reconciliation with Sahad and the lovers’ spat you guys had last night is all over the news. Hot 97. WBLS. The Steve Harvey Morning Show. Girl, DeeDee got y’all business all up on the Doug Banks Show. Bitch, ya’ll everywhere.” “Oh . . . my . . . God!” I gasp as I feel like I am going to hyperventilate.

  “Why you ain’t tell me you was back fucking that Negro?”

  “Because it is not true. Oh, I cannot let Mohammed get a whiff of this shit. He will never believe . . .”

  My words fade as my man walks into the bedroom carrying a bag of groceries. His face, his handsome face, is so cold as he looks at me. “I went out for some things to make us breakfast and instead I get that plus some bullshit about my damn woman and her ex . . . or current . . . or whatever the fuck Sahad is now.”

  Oh God, Mohammed LOVES listening to Steve Harvey in the morning.

  I kick the covers from my legs and damn near trip my naked behind over myself as I get over to him as fast as I can. “That is not true. That is not what happened, Mohammed!”

  I touch his chest and he brushes my hands away so hard that I stumble to the left. I watch as he flings the entire bag of groceries. Eggs splatter to the floor. A jar of orange juice crashes against the wall. A pack of bacon flies like a damn Frisbee.

  I scream out at his unusual show of violence. I have not seen him this mad since the night he fought Sahad. “Mohammed, don’t do this. You better believe me. I would never cheat on you. I promise. I swear,” I plead with him as tears run down my face and my heart aches at how fucked-up fate can be.

  He starts pacing, causing his dreads to swing across his back. “I can’t do this shit, Danielle. Get out. Just get your shit and get the fuck out!”

  I point at him. “No, Mohammed. No! No! No!”

  He stops pacing to look at me and the pain in his eyes tears me up. “I don’t want to feel like this no more. I don’t want you no more.”

  My eyes widen as he walks around the room jerking up everything that is mine. He turns and flings it all at me. “Just get the fuck out, Danielle,” he says in this voice that is way worse than screaming. It is the voice of a man who is truly fed up.

  “I am not leaving this house,” I tell him in a determined voice. “I am not leaving you and this relationship. I will not do it, Mohammed—”

  He walks out of the room. “Don’t be here when I get back, Danielle,” he throws over his shoulder. Moments later I hear the front door open and then slam closed so hard that the house literally shakes.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Alizé

  Now that my focus is back on work and not on Cameron, I have gotten my shit together and it’s all about school and this internship for me. Over the last few weeks it’s paid off. My supervisor just offered me the chance to return for the summer internship program. This will give me over a total of one year’s experience here. With that type of relationship, I plan to work here once my MBA is in my hand in another year.

  Oh, a bitch is back on the grind for my MBA (yup, it’s still MORE BANKING OF ASSETS as far as I’m concerned).

  My cell phone flashes and I pick it up from my desk. I roll my eyes at the sight of Dr. Locke’s cell phone number. Maybe it’s because my mom and I are working out our issues or because I’m resigned to the fact that Cameron and I will not be together or that my internship is in a great place, but I have been calling on my therapeutic dick less and less. In fact, the last time I gave him some of my goodies was last week and he has been blowing up my phone ever since.

  That’s why you can’t put that pussy on some men like that. They ass can’t take it when you shut of
f the supply. I laugh as I rise from the desk and start gathering my things.

  I didn’t even realize it’s after seven already. I was so busy working on the paper describing my internship for my advisor. It’s way past time to get my ass to the crib.

  Before I leave my cubicle that is worse than the small office I had in Cameron’s department, I know my ass is more determined than ever to leave this shit behind and get my fine ass in one of those toplevel executive suites.

  With a little smile I clutch my briefcase tighter and turn on my Via Spaga heels to stroll to the elevator. Most of the staff in the finance department are already gone for the day. Unlike the other departments there isn’t much burning the candle at both ends kind of nights. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if Cameron is still working hard for the money upstairs in his office.

  My heart double pumps at the thought of him. Yes, I ain’t no better than my mommy because I am still so in love with a man who don’t love me.

  The elevator doors open and I step forward. I pause as my eyes travel from polished Gucci loafers up to the face of that very same man.

  “Cameron,” I say softly.

  “Hi, Monica.”

  I can see in his eyes that he is just as surprised to run into me. I give him a fake ass smile and step onto the elevator. I turn and our arms are almost touching. It’s hot. I step to the left away from him.

  The doors close and the tension between us feels like it is closing in. Lord, why does it have to be ten stories before we can get off this motherfucker?

  I keep my eyes straight ahead and try to keep my face neutral even though my stomach is filled with all the emotions this man stirs inside of me. All the anger, the love, the lust, the pain, the regret . . . the hope.

  I glance over at him just in time to see him quickly look away from me. I just bite back a smile—

  A loud, grinding noise causes my heart to leap in my chest just before the elevator comes to a sudden stop. I fall my ass right off my heels and face forward into the steel doors.