He sat back in the booth and ordered drink after drink. His mind trying to construct a plan to make this happen with the least amount of resistance. He couldn't kid himself, hearing Adrianna and Imani talk about Harmony Dance made the process harder. She was in trouble. Or was she? He dealt in facts, not feelings. The reality was she had managed to occupy a commercial property in the fourth largest city rent free for over six months.
He would take the weekend to kick it around. And then it hit him. He looked over at Imani and wondered if she'd say yes.
He smelled her perfume and glanced up to find Imani. He sat waiting for the opportunity to ask her to volunteer at Harmony Dance for Thanksgiving, she needed the help and he was off until next week. He'd help her out and see first hand what her studio was all about.
"For you, compliments of the women at the bar." She stepped to the side glancing over her shoulder, he did too. The women in question had their eyes trained on them.
"I hoped you were coming back to join me."
"Are you lonely?" She tossed at him.
"Maybe." He glanced up at her.
"There are two beautiful women at the bar, I'm sure they'd love to join you."
"They are beautiful, and they are buying me a drink." He reasoned.
She gave a tight nod, her smile looked painted on.
"Maybe they think I'm cute...for a white boy."
Her mouth dropped open, clearly shocked. "Maybe."
"What about you?" He liked seeing her flustered. It was how he felt when she was near.
"What about me?" Her thumbs drummed on the serving tray perched against her stomach.
"Do you think I'm cute too?"
"I think you've had too much to drink."
"Maybe." He knew how to hold his liquor. Her presence was enough to boil all the alcohol from his system, igniting a different type of intoxication and it wasn't found in a bottle.
He had no time for women but for a taste of her, he’d clear his calendar.
"Good night Imani."
"Night Mr. Clark." An elderly man shuffled past them throwing up a hand. "A regular.” She explained as they watched him walk out the door.
"Can I call a cab for you?" She placed the drink on the table and stepped back. It was after eleven o'clock. He'd decided over an hour ago she was taking him home. Now to get her to agree.
He'd sat watching and listening as she talked to most of the people in the bar. She asked about spouses and kids by name. She asked about promotions and sick parents. It made his decision easy. But something told him outright asking her wouldn't work.
“No, thank you. I'm driving." He took a long drink from the glass thankful for the ice cubes.
"That's not a good idea."
"Why not?" He sipped again looking over the glass rim.
"You've been drinking all day and its late. That's your eighth drink."
She noticed. "What do you propose?"
"I'll call a ride for you and you can get your car tomorrow. But we're closed." She suggested and retracted in the same breath.
"How about you drive me home?"
"That's awful presumptuous of you.”
"You need a ride and so do I."
"Nosey," she placed a hand on her hip, "and a stalker."
"Correction. Adrianna's voice carries and I'm using it to my advantage." He liked the way she rolled her eyes and leaned into her hip. Clearly she was trying to intimidate him. It was laughable and cute.
"Advantageous. Leading from your strengths, huh?" She quirked her eyebrow.
"Call it what you want." Damn cute.
"I call bullshit." She dropped the tray on the table and crossed her arms over her chest. "You want something spill it."
She ain't ready for what I want, not yet. He tapped his finger on the rim of the glass. He'd start with a ride. "I need a ride to my place. I'm staying at the St Regis near the Galleria."
"You can take a cab."
"I'm not leaving my car here."
"What don't you call your girl friend from earlier? She can drive you home."
He stood from the seat and stepped close enough to see the fleck of gold in her eyes. “Because I'm asking you."
Imani glanced up at him, her eyes sharp and assessing.
"I'm prepared to sweeten the deal for you."
She turned and her breast brushed his chest. The skin beneath his shirt flamed with awareness. The sparks in her eyes told him she felt it too. Standing beneath the lone overhead light gave him a perfect view of her lioness eyes.
"How so?"
"I'll pay you $500." Her eyes flashed. He knew she needed the money. She'd be a fool not to take it. The drive was less than ten minutes away. "$250 now and the rest once you drop me off. Think of it as being kind to your fellow man during this wonderful holiday season.”
…Continue Reading…
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Millions of adoring fans dream of having one night with him, but only she has access to his heart.
Born with three commas in his bank account and melodies in his veins, Marques Carter is the rising prince of R&B. But not even his family name can guarantees success.
Brione Allen is a smart woman that made a dumb decision: trusting the wrong man. He blackmailed her family and now she’s bound by a debt they knew she couldn’t pay.
A chance meeting at his concert leads to an encrypted proposal: One week, one hundred thousand dollars, one incriminating secret. But when extortion and family ties expose them to the worst of the limelight, which secrets will they keep…and which will threaten their small light of hope?
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1
The same time every week for three years and the call got no easier. Brione Allen sat on the couch and blew out a deep breath. Dial the number. Ask for Kayla. But the knot in her stomach told the utter truth. Nothing about this was easy for her.
She tapped the numbers by memory, adding it to her favorites was something she couldn’t stomach, not after all they’d done to her.
“Hello.”
“Good evening Mrs. Bradley is Kayla around?” She stopped asking to speak with her hoping to gain a sense of control in the situation, but they held her captive with a vice grip on her heart.
“Hello to you too Brione.” Her dusty voice held an air of censorship. “I’ll call for her.”
Kayla had a nanny, private school, and just about everything a little girl could want.
“Brione.” She cringed at hearing his voice.
“Stewart, I was holding for Kayla.”
“She’ll have to call you back.”
“But today is my—”
“Talk to you later.”
The line disconnected and Brione screamed. No one heard her, and no one cared. Alone in her fancy plush prison, she’d gladly trade for their freedom.
She fell back on the couch and stared at the ceiling fan and her cellphone rang. She popped up anticipating the sweet sound of Kayla’s voice. But the screen displayed another welcomed caller.
“Eliana Marshall. To what do I owe this honor?” Laughter flowed through the phone, Eliana was the only person she let close. The only person she trusted. The only person who knew the truth.
“Let’s see…I’m your best friend. So I need no reason to call other than to hear your wonderful voice.” Brione smiled. “Second, I’m flying into town, and I refuse any excuse you make for not seeing me.”
Brione gripped the phone to her ear as she toyed with the hem of her blouse. She’d rushed home from work for nothing.
“I apologized a million times. But you plan to milk it dry,” she joked pulling her stocking covered feet beneath her body and relaxed.
“I plan to milk it until it turns to powder if that will get your butt out of that condo. I will not take no for an answer.”
“Milk it dry and add in a level of guilt to the recipe.”
&
nbsp; “You got it.” They laughed. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better.” Brione looked around the room, furnished with the finest, reeking of their wealth. “You’re heading here for the weekend?”
“No, I’m heading back indefinitely. Bruce and his wife are expecting twins, and they're keeping a close watch on her. We're planning to hang out in Houston until the babies arrive. Her doctor and family are all there. So, it could be a couple of months or longer.”
“Yay!” Brione sat up, excited. “It will be nice to have you in town for a while.”
“Just know I plan to pop up on your doorstep and drag you to a party or two while I’m there.” Brione shook her head knowing they would have a battle ahead.
“How are you enjoying your job?”
Brione listened as Eliana shared her love of working for Bruce Daniels. She bounced around from Atlanta to Houston and back as his assistant.
“I can’t believe the luck I’ve had with getting this job. It is stressful but fun. I’ll be assisting Marques for a while too.”
“Who is that?” The name sounded familiar, in a fuzzy, vague way.
“What rock do you live under?”
“The law school rock.” She snickered. “I don’t have time for anything but class and studying. Well, that and my side gig.”
“Side gig?”
“Eliana, who is Marques?”
“Oh, yeah. How do you not know who he is?” Her amazement was evident by the squeak in her voice. “He’s a caramel dipped…tall, muscled…god in living color.”
Brione lifted a brow at Eliana’s description. “All that?”
“Yes, he’s the epitome of sexy. Too bad he’s my boss.” She let out a sigh. “Anyway, he’s an R&B singer from Atlanta. I guess you wouldn’t know him since he’s more underground.” She was all business. “He is the flagship artist of Rockstar Entertainment. We’re preparing to release an EP then his debut album.”
Brione tried to picture this caramel sexy god. Her failed attempt morphed into her last dalliance that turned her life upside down, inside out, and left Brione estranged from her family.
“That sounds like a lot of work.” Brione didn’t listen to the radio and rarely watched TV. Her sights were set on securing an associate's position with a major law firm. Fun took a backseat.
“It is, which is part of the reason for my call.” Eliana said.
“Oh, it wasn’t just to hear my wonderful voice?”
“Of course.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Spill it, Honey.” Brione walked to the kitchen and opened the freezer, pushing around the contents until she found the frozen lasagna.
“Do you still help with events?”
“Yes, what’s up?” She peeled back the corner of the lid and popped the plastic bowl into the microwave. Then she leaned a hip against the counter.
“Bruce’s anticipated maternity leave and Marques’ EP has opened a lot of doors for me. They’ve asked me to oversee the launch with hopes of promoting me to A&R.”
“Congrats!”
“Thanks, but hold it for now. I still need to get through this project.”
“So, basically it’s an interview.”
“Exactly.”
“How can I help?” Brione dropped her head and chuckled at the faint sounds of Eliana’s clapping. Eliana could make it happen without her, but Brione wanted to see her friend succeed. “I didn’t say yes yet.”
“But you will.” Eliana blew a kiss through the phone. “I want to host a release party in Houston, and I’d love to bring you in. It pays good, and I’m almost certain I can get you the gig.”
“Really? But I’ve never done a music event.”
“Don’t worry about that. Your work is impeccable, you’re organized, timely, and you work well under extreme pressure. Are you free Saturday?”
“Yes, how about ten?”
“That’s perfect. Get together your portfolio and let’s meet at the cafe on Saturday. I’ll try to get either Bruce or Marques there too. That way I can cross two tasks off my list at once.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“You would, Miss Planner Chic. I maintain, where you thrive. One day, I’ll grow up to be just like you.”
Brione shook her head as if Eliana could see her. “No, ma’am. Grow up to be like you, and you’ll be just fine.”
“The thought of peanut butter and honey back in business is enticing don’t you think.”
“Houston ain’t ready for us," Brione added.
Eliana’s robust laughter rang through the phone. “Girl, if only they knew! And for totally selfish reasons, it would be a lifesaver to have your help and get to spend time with you without you skipping out on me.”
They haven’t seen each other in years, for one reason or another. But Brione missed her too. “I got you. When we're done, they’re going to beg you to take that position. And I’ll be there at 9:45 ready to rock n’ roll.”
“Awesome. I’ll text you if anything changes. I gotta go, we’re about to land.” Eliana said.
“Be safe.” The microwave beeped.
“I will. Love you Peanut Butter.” Eliana giggled.
“Love you too Honey.” They disconnected, Brione stood staring at the phone for a minute considering their long friendship.
Eliana was her roommate in college, their running nicknames came when all they could afford was Ramen noodles, and peanut butter and jelly, except Eliana, liked hers with honey or syrup.
Music was Eliana’s passion like organizing events was Brione’s. However, she knew her love of centerpieces and tulle could not lead to her desired destination.
Brione gathered her hot food from the microwave and walked to the dining room, she turned into an office. She stared at the stack of textbooks. She entered law school for two reasons: money and time. The family connections between the Bradleys and her parents guaranteed her seat. But her high GPA landed her a full ride.
She cleared a space for her bowl, tonight she’d study and tomorrow she’d order pizza and work on her portfolio. She lowered into the chair in front of her laptop, placing her food aside. She opened the oversized law book and turned to the cases she needed to read and analyze for class tomorrow.
She leaned over the keyboard and forked a chunk of lasagna, she cradled her hand beneath it to keep the sauce from dripping onto her expensive textbooks. She popped it into her mouth and did a chair dance as the ricotta cheese and Italian sausage made her taste buds happy, momentarily overlooking that it almost burnt her tongue. She pushed the bowl back to let it cool and read the first legal case when her phone rang again. The little face on the screen made her heart race with joy.
“Hello, Sweet Pea.” Her voice trembled, she took a deep breath.
“Hi!” Brione could envision her chubby cheeks, full eye lashes, and radiant smile.
“I think this is the best surprise I’ve had all day.” Her giggle warmed Brione’s heart. “How was school today?”
Kayla talked about crayons and finger painting. Her new best friend and a boy pulling her pigtails. All the things Brione had to experience by phone and not in person. And as soon as the call started it ended, sending exaggerated kisses through the phone to the tune of Kayla’s sweet laughter with promises of talking with her again on Saturday.
Life wasn’t fair. That was too tall of an order.
Brione used the fork to cut into the cooler lasagna. She had stopped crying about it and questioning why long ago, instead she dealt with it, taking blow by blow and somehow managing to bounce back. But tonight she wanted to sit in it. From the sting of the scheduled phone calls to Stewart consistently dangling their freedom like cheese enticing a rat, reminding herself that she had a plan. This ache in her chest was only temporary.
One day she and Kayla would live under the same roof. Holding on to this goal kept her in one piece.
Kayla motivated Brione to work hard and she vowed not to repeat the same mistake twice. Men like the dreamy c
aramel sex god Eliana drooled over were bad news. Stewart was one of them. He walked into a room and every woman—married, single, it didn’t matter—wanted him. She’d thought herself lucky.
Brione snickered at her foolish youth. None of them cared about what she wanted in life. Her goals. Her desires. To the Bradleys, her parents, Stewart, she was their pawn, their minion, their tool. So they thought.
She couldn’t afford to crack. She ate the rest of her dinner, deciding to study first then get her portfolio together for her meeting with Eliana.
To get Kayla back, she needed money and landing the job with Eliana to organize Marques’ event could be the break she’d prayed for.
2
Walking into Coffee Confessions had a ring of a homecoming for Marques Carter. He had spent many days hanging around waiting on Bruce to finish a shift before they went to the studio. Houston saved him and got his life back on course. Now that he was back, he hoped lightning would strike again for them.
He pulled the baseball cap lower to disguise himself. The release of his first official video last week gave him more than his usual double takes. In Atlanta, he couldn’t go anywhere without people recognizing him, here offered a reprieve. But he didn’t want to take any chances, welcoming the way people bumped right past him. It added another reason he loved being back in Houston.
Marques arrived early to meet with Bruce. He scanned the room, spotting a few empty tables and made his way to the line. He lifted his head to read the menu when he felt a soft bump behind him. He turned around and had to glance down at a petite woman.
“Excuse me.” She held up a hand then reached out to stabilize a mug rocking back and forth on the shelf. “I was trying to miss the stroller and then the display and…” Her voice stalled as she finally looked up at him. Her lips parted in surprise. “Huh, sorry.”
He chuckled. “I think I’ll live.”
Yuki's Luck Page 9
