“And where the hell is Kendu?” Jaise whispered to Vera as they grooved lightly to the music.
“I was wondering the same thing.” She pointed to Milan who was working her way around the room, making light conversation. “Milan is clearly upset.”
“Maybe I should ask her.”
“Leave it alone,” Vera said. “I’m sure she feels bad enough.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Nine thirty, Milan thought as one of Kendu’s friends, Terrance, walked over to her. “Where’s Kendu?”
Milan hesitated. “He had some business to finish up at ESPN. You know he starts tomorrow night.” She forced herself to smile. “I’m so proud.”
“Yeah,” Terrance said awkwardly.
“Milan.” Emory walked over to her. “Where’s Kendu?”
“He’ll be here soon.” She walked away swiftly. She had to, otherwise the next person who asked her where Kendu was, was sure to get cussed out. Especially since if she knew where the hell he was, she would find his ass and kill him.
Tears filled Milan’s eyes as she walked directly into Chaunci. “Are you okay?” Chaunci asked.
“I just need a minute.”
“You still haven’t heard from him?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to send everyone home?”
“I don’t give a fuck what they do,” Milan said as the bell rang. She walked swiftly toward the door and snatched it open. Finally, it was Kendu.
“Where the hell have you been?” Milan spat as she stood at her apartment door, staring at Kendu. His eyes were red and he had a slanted smirk on his face. “Are you drunk? Seriously, you not only show up here hours late but you’re drunk? Where’ve you been, Kendu?”
“Milan, don’t start.”
“What do you mean, don’t start?” She closed the door behind her, and they stood in the hallway.
“I’m not drunk. I had a couple of beers—”
“You smell like you had a damn case.”
“Look, I’m sorry okay? I overslept and now I’m here.” He reached for the doorknob and she knocked his hand away.
“It’s not okay. I’ve been standing here for hours looking stupid and making up one excuse after the other for you and all along you were at home drunk?”
“I’m not drunk!”
“You need to stop saying that. Really you do, because if I feel for one minute that you were sober and this is the shit you pulled then someone will have to call the cops to get me off of you!” She opened the apartment door and announced. “Look who I found.”
Everyone cheered and clapped. “Now the real party can begin,” Milan said with no sincerity.
“Karma is a bitch,” Jaise said to Vera as they stood and sipped their drinks. “I’m sure Evan’s somewhere laughing her ass off.”
“Let’s go and say congratulations,” Vera insisted. “And be nice.”
“I will,” Jaise said as they walked over to Kendu and Milan.
“Jaise,” Kendu said as she approached. He hugged her. “I feel like it’s been a million years since I last saw you.”
“It has been,” she said. “How’s my godchild?”
“She’s fine.” Kendu smiled. “She’s spending the summer with my father and stepmother in Florida.”
“Nice,” Jaise said.
“Have you met Vera?” Milan asked Kendu, trying her best to sound chipper.
“No.” His grin slid to the side of his mouth.
“This is Kendu,” Milan said.
“Congratulations on your engagement.” Vera smiled. She looked at Milan. “Well, listen, we’re going to get going. But it was nice meeting you, Kendu, and thanks for having us, Milan.”
“Yes, everything was really nice,” Jaise said. “Except for your little girlfriend who pretended to be busy all night so she didn’t have to speak to us, but it’s fine, cause I don’t give a damn.”
“Goodnight,” Vera said, locking arms with Jaise and pulling her toward the door.
“Why is everyone leaving?” Kendu asked as Jaise and Vera closed the door behind themselves.
“Because they’ve been here all fuckin’ night,” Milan snapped and then walked away.
As Jaise and Vera stepped onto the elevator they looked at each other and said simultaneously, “His ass was drunk as hell.”
One by one their guests left and by the time an hour had passed, the only one left was Chaunci. “I’ma leave now, okay?” Chaunci said to Milan. She quickly looked at Kendu and rolled her eyes. “Stop by tomorrow, Milan. And I’ll treat you to lunch, okay?”
“Alright, girl.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
“What you think is going to happen to her Chaunci?” Kendu said pissed.
“Won’t shit be happening to her, Kendu. Or I’ll be fucking your ass up.” Chaunci kissed Milan on the cheek, stormed out the door, and slammed it behind her.
“Milan—” Kendu said.
“Don’t say shit to me,” Milan growled.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you want to call the wedding off?” Milan asked. The words ached her mouth as she spoke.
“Why would you say something like that?”
“Why do you think I asked you that? Maybe you not showing up until the last minute for our engagement party and then you’re fuckin’ drunk to top it off.”
“Milan, listen to me,” Kendu said, reaching for her hands. “I’m sorry. I am. I overslept. And I’m an ass for that. Forgive me?” He kissed her gently. “Please. I’m sorry. I fucked up and I promise it’ll never happen again.”
She stared at him. A million thoughts of how she needed to put his ass out flooded her mind. “One day sorry won’t be good enough.” She turned toward the bedroom door and left him standing there.
Chaunci
Chaunci felt awkward as she stepped out of the building and spotted Emory walking up the block toward his black Escalade. She thought about approaching him, but quickly shook off the feeling.
Should I?
No, he’s too arrogant.
He apologized.
They all apologize.
Fuck it. She walked to the corner and hailed a cab. A few seconds later one pulled up to the curb. She opened the door and glanced one last time at Emory in the distance. Shit. “Go on,” she said to the cab driver. “I forgot something.” She slammed the door and hustled up the block behind Emory.
As he opened his driver’s-side door and slid in, Chaunci rushed toward the passenger side and tapped on the window.
Emory jumped. He blinked and rolled the window down. “Where in the hell did you come from?”
“Let me just say this to you,” she said quickly. “I resent you saying that I have a stick up my ass.”
“I just called it how I saw it.”
“Well that’s not it. It’s just that I don’t have time for bullshit. I added a no-tolerance clause to my constitution a few months back.”
“Sounds like we adopted the same clause.”
“And maybe I could’ve,” she paused. “I should’ve handled things differently and been a little more receptive and sensitive to what you had to say, but I was pissed off.”
“And I wasn’t?”
“You weren’t as pissed as me.”
“So is that why you followed me to my truck? To tell me you were more pissed off than me?”
“You know that’s not why I followed you.”
“How would I know that?” Emory said getting out of his truck and walking over to Chaunci. He leaned against the back door and gently pulled her by her belt loop in front of him. “I can’t read your mind.”
Chaunci swallowed. Just say it. “I followed you to say that I owe you an apology too. We got off on the wrong foot and I would like to … ummm …”
“Umm what?”
“Start again.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, really.” Chaunci smiled.
“So where do we start?”
Emory’s eyes roamed all over Chaunci and his smile lit up the night. “Let’s go,” he said.
“All right, let’s go. But one thing,” Chaunci said as she boldly cupped his face between her soft palms. “I’ve been wanting to do this since I laid eyes on you.” And daringly she kissed him and he kissed her back. A long, passionate, and soul stirring kiss.
“Damn,” Emory said, as their kiss ended. “Looks like we’re off to a great start.”
“Seems so,” Chaunci said, as they walked hand in hand toward the restaurant.
Milan
“Milan.” Someone called her name as she stood back and watched Bridget gather china and platinum silverware in Bloomingdales that would impress the camera and would add up to a ridiculously high mock total at the register. She turned her head toward the sound of her name being called again. “Milan.” It was Samir.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m lost. I’m looking for the women’s department.”
Milan squinted. “Women’s department? You know what they say about football players,” she joked.
“Yeah ai’ight,” he said seriously. “Don’t play with me. I’m here to give my personal shopper a list of things my mother likes. Tomorrow’s her birthday.”
“Nice. Be sure to tell her I said happy birthday.”
“Why don’t you come with me to tell her? She’s having a small get-together.” His eyes drifted to her left hand.
Damn. She shook her head. I forgot my ring.
“No. I can’t, really. I have a … ummm … few things to do. Like getting married. I’m meeting Kendu here to do our registry.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “But let me ask you something: What happened to your ring?”
“Why? I left it home.”
“Well if you were engaged to me and you didn’t have on my ring I’d be pissed off.”
“And if she was engaged to you, I’d be pissed off,” Kendu announced as he walked up behind Milan. “This is the second time I’ve seen your friend.” He spat. “Something you two wanna talk to me about?”
“What?” Milan was completely embarrassed.
“Listen, no harm, no foul, man,” Samir said.
“Knott,” Milan spat as Samir walked away. “What the hell was that?”
“You tell me.”
“I know you don’t think anything of that.”
“I don’t know what the hell to think. I’m just ready to go.”
“Are you serious? We’re supposed to be registering.”
He didn’t answer. Instead he walked out the door.
Chaunci
WBLS’ Quiet Storm played softly as thunderous rain slid down Chaunci’s wall of windows. She lay on the chaise in her bedroom looking up at the vaulted ceiling and wondering if she should keep her date with Emory or stand him up. They’d been seeing each other practically every day since Milan’s engagement party a month ago. And up until this morning when she rolled over in bed and the first person on her mind was Emory—she felt frightened; as if she were losing control and needed to turn away.
You need to go. You told the man you’d meet him.
I’m not going.
She lay in a black spaghetti-strap minidress with a deep V cut at the neckline. The dress hugged every one of her curves and showcased her tight thighs as she held her cell phone to her chest.
Maybe …
You’re choosing to be miserable.
Maybe …
Just go …
———
Uncontrollable heat hit Chaunci in the face as soon as she walked into Limin’s, a small and tight reggae club in the heart of Flatbush in Brooklyn. Limin’s wasn’t a spot that Chaunci would have chosen for a date, but hell …
Tanya Stephens’s Gangsta Blues blasted through the club’s sound system as Chaunci walked over to the bar and ordered a drink. A few minutes into sipping her daiquiri and nodding her head to the music she spotted Emory and froze. He sat on the other side of the room, laughing, sipping a beer, and moving to the music.
Damn. Even in the dim lights of the club, he was fine.
“Looking for me?” She walked over and stood in front of him.
“When I woke up this morning,” he said as they embraced. “And you were the first person on my mind. I realized that I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”
Chaunci blushed and he looked her over, his eyes fucking her every step of the way.
Chaunci’s hair spilled over her shoulders like water. The lip gloss she wore lit up her face. Boldly, Emory took the tip of his index finger and slid it from the center of her lips to her cleavage.
“What are you thinking?” Emory asked.
“You first,” Chaunci said nervously. She hated that she was out of her comfort zone of being calm, collected, and in control, mostly because she knew feeling butterflies led to taking blind leaps of faith in shit like love and commitment and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. And not because she’d tried true love once and had been hurt by it, but because not until she’d met Emory did she realize she’d never tried true love at all.
“I’m wondering if you’re scared.”
“A little,” she admitted.
“Why?”
“Because how do I know where this will lead. I don’t want to be hurt.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, I want to love you. Are you willing to let me do that?”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I want to see you exclusively.”
“Exclusively?” she said surprised.
“I’m selfish. I want you to myself.”
“Interesting.”
“Interesting?” He couldn’t help but smile. “Aren’t you selfish?”
“I’m torn.”
“On what?”
“If I should stay or leave.”
He pulled her close to him. “Choose one.”
“I think I should leave.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” She paused. “And I think you should come with me.”
Chaunci walked into his apartment and, as forward as she usually was when it came to making love, she felt nervous, like an innocent schoolgirl with Emory.
What the hell is wrong with me? He flipped on his radio to the sound of Mint Condition’s “Someone To Love” and the electric-blue equalizer lit up the room. Chaunci grabbed Emory’s hand, locked his fingers between hers, and they began to dance.
“Just let go,” Emory whispered in her ear as he unzipped her dress. “And let me take the lead.”
They danced slowly and his hands roamed her body as he undressed her. He pushed the straps of her dress off her shoulders one at a time and placed kisses on them, softly moving his tongue up her neck to her bottom lip. “What are you thinking?”
“Is this for real?” She stroked the seat of his pants. His inches creased the side of his thigh.
“It’s real, baby.” They kissed passionately.
Chills ran through Chaunci’s body as the firmness of her clit became liquid in his hands.
“Emory …” she moaned as they lay on the floor beneath the skylight. Slowly he sucked one nipple and then the other. The wet warmth of his lips sent her to another dimension.
He kissed her nipples as if he’d wanted to taste them all his life. He sucked the side of her neck as if her skin were candy. Then he kissed a trail down the center of her body to her pussy lips, where he opened her with his mouth.
Chaunci had never felt like this. She could swear she’d melted at least a hundred times. Never in all her years did she know that her clit could have convulsions.
After coming twice Chaunci rolled on top of him and licked the outline of his tattoos, including the one on his hand. Then she bit his nipples and kissed him all over his stomach, moving up slowly, lifting his smooth chest
hairs with her tongue. Then she pressed her forehead against his and looked into his eyes.
“Let it go, babe.” He turned her over and she lay in the missionary position. His dick had to be at least eleven inches, because she’d never felt anything like it. She could swear he’d gone into her stomach, causing her to rake her nails down his back and cry out his name.
“What’s the problem?” He stroked her with all he had. The pleasure he provided confused her. She didn’t know if she was coming or going.
“Wait,” she panted, as he threw her legs to one side of his shoulder, “slow down.”
“Oh, hell, no. I know you’re not running from the dick.” He pounded.
“N-no,” she stuttered. “It’s just so big.”
“Get used to it, because after tonight this is my pussy.”
“Emory!” she squealed, barely able to breathe. Their bodies danced, sweated, and soared. Chaunci clutched his back as she felt her dam preparing to explode.
He bit into one shoulder. The sting of his bite broke the dam and the river flowed.
“Don’t fuck around,” he said as he lined her sugar walls with pearls. “And fall in love with me.”
Action
Vera
Today was the day and this was the moment Vera decided she could have it all. And anything she didn’t have was simply because she didn’t want it—or didn’t need it.
She’d just returned from Florida, and she strutted through JFK airport wearing a black power suit, a white camisole, and five-inch Jimmy Choos. Her Gucci aviators crowned her face. She was on a mission. A takeover. HSN had not only offered her a distribution deal but also a live weekly segment to show the world why everyone needed Volume.
She did a slight two-step as she walked into the lobby. People were everywhere, running, crying, jumping into one another’s arms, chauffeurs holding cardboard signs with clients’ names on them. Vera spotted Carl with his camera as she walked toward the exit, hoping to see Taj.
“Yes!” She pumped her fist as she looked into the camera.
“Tell the camera why you’re so excited,” Carl greeted her.
“Because,” she said with confidence, “I am living proof that a mother, a wife, and a hard-working woman can have it all.”
Money Never Sleeps Page 17
