by Drea Riley
Table of Contents
Part ONE. Mother May I?
Part TWO. Crack the Whip
Drea and Laura
It’s All Fun and Games
Until Someone Falls in
Love
Drea Riley and Laura Guevara
www.beautifultroublepublishing.com
It’s All Fun and Games
until Someone Falls in Love
Dréa Riley and Laura Guevara
Copyright © 2009 by Laura Guevara and Dréa Riley
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including but not limited to: printing, photocopying, faxing, or electronic transmission, without prior written permission from the authors.
This book is a work of fiction. References may be made to locations and historical events; however, names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the authors’ imaginations and/or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), businesses, events or locales is either used fictitiously or coincidental.
Published by
Beautiful Trouble Publishing, LLC
PO Box 61
Colfax, NC 27235
www.beautifultroublepublishing.com
Cover Art: Savannah J. Frierson
Editor/Proofreader: Stephanie Parent/Camille Anthony
Formatter: Savannah J. Frierson
E-book Conversion: http://www.jimandzetta.com/
ISBN: 978-1-936271-76-4 (eBook)
First of all Laura and Drea want to thank their big sisters The Jeanie and Jayha. Yes, Jayha, you told us so. Thank you for pressuring us, we know that it had to be the most confounding thing to wait on us. Thank you for your love and support. And yes, we know, RESTRICTION! THE JEANIE—We got caught. AGAIN. And we are on restriction. AGAIN. Can we come to your corner and play?
To Stephanie Parent: editor extraordinaire. Of course at the time of this dedication we’ve just met, but if Jayha says you are the bomb, then it’s Gospel. Thank you for polishing us and making us great.
Thanks to the ladies of the MFP Posse for your undying support. Thanks to the men of the MFPP for hanging in there and being who you are. Thanks to our families for understanding the tied phone lines and reclusiveness.
Also, thanks to our dogs DEE OH GEE AND NAPO. Together you two are one big CLAYMORE, fierce and strong, even if you only weigh 10 whole lbs together, soaking wet.
Thanks to CWB for being the best husband and big brother there is.
Thanks also to our parents. Thank you for giving so freely of yourselves that we could become the women we are and tell the stories we tell.
To Laura’s Papi. We love you! You remind us of what it is to be loved by a man and cherished as a daughter. To Drea’s Mami. We love you too! YOU remind us that mothers are women first. You are spicy and funky and DIVA!
We pray that GOD keeps you in good health for many more years. You are our rocks and our inspiration.
To us! GO DREA GO LAURA GO! GO! GO! GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Yes, Jayha, we know: “Go to the corner without the scooters.” SIGH!!!)
—Love and Chaos, Dréa and Laura!!!
Note about eBooks
eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement.
Caveat
This work of erotica contains adult language and sexually explicit scenes, which are smoking hot. This book is intended only for adults, as it is defined by the laws of the country in which the purchase is made. Keep this book out of the hands of under-aged readers.
Part ONE.
Mother May I?
I was sitting at my desk, listening to the hum of the busy leasing office from my open doorway. Leaning back and stretching my neck, I took a moment to study one of the three pictures on my desk. The one that captured me along with my mother, Mami, and my sister Rachel. Rachel Gonsalves is my ace. My road dawg. My sister. We started this job together in college. Who knew that ten years later, Rachel would be the lead agent at a posh apartment community, and I’d be in the back in a cozy office “running thangs”? HA!! We did. After six weeks, we had decided that the two of us were going to be in charge. And we systematically worked our way up.
We started off in house cleaning…which was so not cute. Neither one of us had ever cleaned anything in our lives. Not a bedroom nor a dish. I am a firm believer in paper plates and dishwashers. And Rachel, well, that chick didn’t know she had a kitchen in her house until she accidently set the microwave on fire last year. Anyway, we learned real fast how to clean an apartment in order for someone to move in. A lot of our time was spent hanging out waiting for the maintenance crew to do their thing first. Needless to say, we learned a lot. The older guys took us under their wing and taught us how to fix just about anything. Air conditioners…check. Garbage disposal…check. Toilets…if you pay me triple in cash up front and can personally clean said toilet with a whole lot of bleach before I work on it, check. We even learned how to work on vehicles. The only reason I pay the guys down at the shop to change my oil is because I don’t like shit under my nails. Being that neither of us have fathers or brothers, the whole crew adopted us. Hell, I’m auntie to five or six little budding terrors right now. Most of the original crew is still here, albeit aging, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. We got a couple of new knuckleheads on staff, but they’re a’ight.
Working closely with the support crew brought us into contact with residents and residents’ friends. We made it a point to learn something about everyone. We remembered about their birthdays and the pool parties they threw, as well as issues they’d had with their apartments. Before long we were meeting their friends and hanging out. It only took that first year before the manager took us aside and asked us if we wanted to move in. Jerry is your typical southern man. Hardworking, smart and a gentleman farmer. He has some serious cowboy up in him too. He’ll work hard, but if he can get around it, he will. He had the good sense to know Rachel and I had the personality and people skills to do a bang-up job as leasing agents. He was also banking on us doing things our way and wanting to learn. And the more we learned, the less he actually had to do. In six months’ time, I’d taken over all the move-out dispositions and worked directly with the investment owners and collections department as well as the maintenance crew, and Rachel was leading the leasing and marketing team. We switched majors to real estate management
and never looked back.
I think Rachel has her eye on the new maintenance man we hired. He’s not only really handy with any maintenance issues, but the man knows his way around a garden. So he’s going to oversee the landscaping crew. I already have his background check on my desk from his hire package. But best believe I have been googling like crazy. I’m not saying the man ain’t fine, but you never know. He’s on sabbatical from the university and is a writer. I wonder what Rachel will say when she finds out he is a published author whose characters know more about kink than she does.
My phone rang. Looking over at the multiline system, I could tell the call was coming from Rachel’s office. “This is Jonica,” I answered the phone. It’s the way I always do. Day in, day out…at home or at work. I don’t have time to remember what time it is. Good morning…not hardly. Good afternoon…since when? Good evening… hey, can you tell me when we go from afternoon to evening, ‘cause I need to be sure I roll out right before
that time? Good night…yeah, I’d like to answer the phone with that. Good night click.
“Hell, I know it’s you. I called your extension. What, you got someone back there to answer the phone for you now, Mis
s Manager?”
I rolled my eyes before speaking quickly.
“Now why would I hire someone else to answer the phone for me when you do it so beautifully, Miss Assistant Manager?”
“Pinche...you know what...never mind, your mom is on the phone.”
My mom is always on the phone. The girls in the front office
spend hours passing the phone around. Each one of them getting a little bit of her sunshine in their gloomy little worlds. She calls to talk about nothing specific and everything in general.
Rachel is my girl from way back. We grew up together ripping, running and getting into things. Anyway, after a moment more of chitchat with Rachel, whose desk is literally on the other side of the wall from me, I pushed the button to bring my mom on the line
“Hola, Mami, que pasa?”
I always greet my mother this way. Even though the woman doesn’t speak a lick of Spanish. She made sure I learned, though. Something about honoring my late father. I asked her once how he died and she said, “Who, Pablo? That fool ain’t dead, I ran him lost.” A few weeks later, when I met Pablo for the first time, I understood why she did. He and Mami are too much alike. First of all, they’re both stubborn, and secondly, they both like being the center of attention. Don’t get me wrong, it helped when I was learning about fashion and all of that, but it was odd having two divas trying to raise me. Pablo is what they call “metro”—hell, he may have invented it—but don’t get it twisted, there isn’t an ounce of gay in him. Men have gone missing for making that mistake. Think about the pimp from those movies with Ice Cube. You know that scene with the vice grips…yeah, I think Pablo sold that idea and got paid.
“Hi, babygirl, how are you?” Mami didn’t give me time to answer—she never did. “Can you come get me?”
“I’m fine, Mami. Come get you from where, Mami?”
“Across the street from your job,”
my mom whispered. I was just leaning back in my chair, about to place my feet on the desk so I could admire my new pedicure. My mind began to race. WTF? Across the street from my job. What the hell is…? Understanding and confusion met like a train wreck in my brain.
“Mom.” I shorten her moniker whenever I get pissed. “You do know the hospital is across the street from my job, right”
“Well duh, I know that. That’s why you need to come get me. I’m at the hospital.”
Oh no she didn’t. Did my mom just “duh” me? Really, is she getting attitude with me when I am at work? I need this job. If I lose my cool with her…. Wait. Focus, Jonica.
“Mother—”
I could hear her deep sigh and knew that chick was rolling her eyes at me. “Mami” is for every day. “Mamma” is when I am sick. “Mom” lets her know I’m feeling all grown up and ballsy, but when I say “Mother” that means I mean business, which also means she’s about to school me on how I’m not grown enough at twenty-eight to be “Mothering” her.
“Why are you across the street at the hospital?”
“Why are you asking questions instead of doing what I asked…no, what I told you to do? Ain’t I your mamma? Cuz I mean last time I checked, I had you! Not the other way around.”
Okay, we’re fixing to go there. We are so about to go there. She’s the one playing cute on the phone. In the hospital…wait…focus, Jonica.
By this time, I’d jumped out of my seat and knocked a penholder off my desk. Either Rachel must have been eavesdropping again or I was talking loudly, as I tend to do when Mom upsets me. Searching frantically for a pen, and my purse, my keys…anything I might need, I argued with Mom about how I needed to know exactly where in the hospital she was if she wanted me to come get her. Then I held up my hand in the just wait motion. I wasn’t getting any information from Mom, and Rachel was loud-talking in my left ear. Meanwhile, Mom was laying on the guilt trip in my right.
“What’s going on? Did you just say your mom’s in the hospital? What happened? Is she okay?”
“I don’t know why you are acting all huffy. Why can’t you just come get me? How long is it gonna take you to get over here? This is why I didn’t call you when they admitted me
Monday.”
Hold the fuck on. Did my mom just say to me that she has been in the hospital since MONDAY?!
I thrust my hand against Rachel’s mouth
and shoved all the stuff off my desk. With my eyes glued to the oversized calendar that was now visible, I scanned the days. Today is Thursday…no wait, today is Friday, because I’m off tomorrow.
“Oh my GOD!!! Mother, you’ve called me every day this week. AND YOU HAVE BEEN IN THE HOSPITAL EVERY DAY THIS WEEK!!! What the hell kinda bullshit is that?”
Rachel’s eyes grew round, and she made that “ooooooooo” that little kids make when you say something that’s about to get your ass beat. Like the first time your cousins trick you into saying something stupid like, “yo mamma.”
“Jonica Farran Dominquez! You must have lost your whole damn mind talking to me. Who do you think you are speaking to? I am YO MAMMA. I am not that pansy ass punk your daddy ran off from your house last year, and I am not one of your home girls. You bettah check ya’ self before I check up outta this muthafucka and check you outta this world.”
How dare she be laid up in the hospital with God knows what wrong and not tell me? Why does she insist on calling that boy toy of hers my daddy...hell, he ain’t that much older than I am. Well, I mean he is that much older than me, but he doesn’t act like it, and he is so not my daddy.
Wait till I tell Pablo she is tryna get me to call another man daddy. What if she had….what if she had? I am not even going there, not today. She is fine because she’s still cussin’. What is she talking about they are tryna kill her?
Mom continued to hem and haw about how children had no respect these days. She mumbled more to herself than anything. I knew it wouldn’t be the last I heard on the subject, but I was still heated my damn self.
“Mamma.” I tried to backpedal a bit. “I didn’t mean to upset you. You are in the hospital, so obviously you don’t need to be getting heated right now…. No, Mamma, I am not angry, just a little upset that you didn’t tell me you were in the hospital. What if something had happened? I mean something did happen, and no one knew. You coulda…you know, met ‘Lizabeth, and no one would know until after the science people had cut you up and sent us back your ashes and stuff.”
Mom chuckled then. I knew there was no way to keep her from turning the situation back onto my cussin’, but that would be later on. After I figured out why the hell she was in the hospital in the first damn place.
“Mamma, you want to tell me why you are in the hospital?”
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Joni…just come get me.”
“Mamma…Mami…MOM…MOTHER….” She hung up on me. NO, she didn’t just hang up on me. How the hell am I supposed to go get her when I don’t know where exactly the fuck she is? I mean is she in ICU…? Wait, she wouldn’t be able to call from there. Damn It! I need Rachel.
“Rachel!!!!” I screamed.
“Bitch, I’m not your mamma, but you can’t be hollerin’ my damn name like that. I know that damn much!”
Rachel had her finger in her ear. I hadn’t meant to scream in it. I’d honestly forgotten she was standing there.
“My bad, girl—Mom hung up on me. I gotta get to the hospital,” I said as I skirted around both my desk and Rachel.
I didn’t stop to so much as blink, let alone give a “hey, I’ll be right back” to any of the agents working up front. The door dinged as I shoved it open and headed down the block for the stoplight. I pushed the button a million times in two seconds waiting for the light to change.
What the fuck. Change already!!!! C’mon!! GREEN! DAMN THING!
“ARRRGG,” I growled in frustration. I looked at the traffic zipping by. If I time this just right, I can run….
Beep beep!!!
“Listen, I know you’re upset, b
ut throwing yourself into lunch-hour traffic ain’t gonna do nuthin’ but get your black ass on the ten o’clock news. They won’t even do a whole segment. They’ll just mention you in passing.”
I looked over at the car at the curb. Rachel’s
metallic blue Mini Cooper was humming like a windup toy. She was right though. I needed to calm down and get to my mom. If I was dead…well, the way I figured it, if I was dead I’d be all knowing so I would find out what happened, but that whole being dead thing was gonna suck ass.
I quickly stuffed myself into Rachel’s clown car and sat staring forward, waiting for her to pull away from the curb. The light turned green, but Rach didn’t move.
I looked over at her, and she was looking back at me.
“What?”
“Buckle up.”
“Rachel, we are going three blocks through a protected intersection. Besides, I cannot buckle all of me into this little motherfucker. There isn’t enough seatbelt to go around.”
“Fine. Get out!”
“Are you kidding me, Rach?! STOP playing. My mom is in the hospital. She could be dying right now, and you are playing with me. OMG, I could be over there right now, but no, you just had to get me to stuff my ass in this freaking micro machine, and now you want me to…”
I looked over at Rachel and saw the tears building in her eyes. Make no mistake, my girl was not crying even though her chin was trembling.
“You have some nerve! Laugh…go ahead, bitch, laugh! Let me outta this lil’ mutha fucka….”
I tried to shove the door open, but Rachel had me locked in. After tiring myself out threatening to kill Rachel and have her Mini Cooper melted down to make earrings, I grabbed the seatbelt and pulled it across my ample chest. I didn’t even pretend to try to buckle it. Just held it there. Rachel pulled away from the curb and up to the stoplight.
