She nodded at Chancelor, then looked at Heavenly, gave him a half smile.
They had a blast traveling the Abaco Islands. Lots of sunshine, swimming in the ocean, sipping on cool, refreshing cocktails, massages on the beach. The only site she adamantly refused to visit was Piggyville. But now it was back to her reality until they left for Vegas.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Jordan was on the center aisle with her back to Victoria.
Victoria reached into her pocket. Those closest to her gasped. Leaned in Chancelor’s direction.
“That’s impressive, you guys. Truly,” Victoria said.
She left the small glass bottle hidden. In or outside of the church, if she’d learn that a particular person or persons were involved in any kind of way with what was rumored to have happened to Kingston, she’d cast her “I’ve fallen and can’t get up” spell. Then she’d throw away the remains so it would never be broken. Like the spell with Heavenly.
Victoria was side by side with Jordan, facing the altar. Chancelor was behind her. Tracy stood beside Chancelor. Never had Victoria believed she’d see a day where Tracy was solo and serving the Lord.
Walking along the aisle as she approached Heavenly, he reached out and touched her hand. For a brief moment, Victoria held on.
Continuing walking toward Pastor Baloney, Victoria again looked at Brother William Copeland’s empty seat. The members had dedicated the space to honor him.
When they all reached the altar, Victoria continued walking. She strolled until she arrived at Brother Copeland’s seat.
“Lord Jesus. Why didn’t You give me a sign?” she cried.
Falling on her knees, she leaned into his seat and wept uncontrollably. She placed her head on the bench. Hugged the empty space. She cried and cried and cried.
Two members of the congregation knelt beside her, rubbed her back.
“Let her be,” Pastor Baloney said. “Sister Victoria and a lot of people hold on to their grief. Believing they can move forward in their daily lives as long as they do something different. Just keep busy. Or love someone new. But true love can never be denied.”
Blessing the offering, Pastor Baloney opened the doors to the church. “If there is anyone who would like to give their life to God, please come now. Brother Copeland was saved. Can you say the same thing?”
Victoria found the strength to sit in Willy Copeland’s seat. Pastor Baloney’s arms were spread wide, palms up. He preached, “Don’t wait. For the time to be saved is right here. Right now.”
Monet stood, walked to the front of the church, then knelt at the altar. Tracy followed in her footsteps.
“This is the last call. Much like the one when you are at the bar. If you’re fortunate to make it back, there’ll be another. For you do not know when you walk out the door”—he pointed—“what is on the other side. If you are not saved, you’ll never know what Heaven is like.”
Heavenly stood, approached the altar, knelt next to Tracy.
Victoria watched the two of them, thinking Heavenly did deserve a younger woman. One closer to his age. Not Tracy, but someone he could grow with.
She’d spilled the love potion when she had gotten the news about Willy. Silently she prayed, Dear Lord Jesus, if this man is mine, let it be of his own will. If You should have him be with someone else, including Tracy, I won’t complain. Amen.
Soon as service ended, Victoria was glad it was time to head to Bar Purgatory for a bottle of wine.
In transit she asked Heavenly, “Do you really want to be with me? And before you respond, please know there is no wrong answer.”
Caressing her inner thigh, he said, “I love you, and, yes, I want to be with you.”
She wasn’t sure if it was the potion speaking on his behalf or if that was how he truly felt. But in that very moment, Victoria realized she needed Heavenly more than he needed her . . . and that was okay.
CHAPTER 54
Chancelor
“Thanks, Chancelor. The movie was okay, but the cinema was amazing! Where I go, there are seats and snacks. I’ve never been to a theater where you can order a steak, vegan burger, truffle fries, chicken and waffles, and popcorn, plus cocktails.” Shanita inhaled. “The guava margarita was so delicious, I can still taste it.”
Chancelor touched the driver’s-side handle to unlock the doors, then sat behind the wheel. He would’ve opened the door for Tracy and Elite, but Shanita wasn’t that type of showgirl.
Shanita was different in an intriguing kind of way so he took her out again. She was the girl he’d fuck, but not fuck with. Too many parts of her personality weren’t ladylike.
“Would you like to go to my house?” he asked, pressing the button to start the engine. “Or I can take you home.”
Chancelor had a lot of work to do on his new contract, but he also wanted to reap the benefits of his generosity. He envisioned Shanita’s mouth on his dick. She was probably a great rider.
“Are you kidding me? Of course, I’d love to go to your house. I don’t have a clean pair of underwear, so I’ma wash the ones I’m wearing by hand, then put them in your dryer tonight. I need to be home by six in the morning.” She turned up the music without asking.
Chancelor lowered it. What good was a conversation if he had to talk over the songs? Why was Shanita planning on staying, without an overnight invite? Chancelor sensed that Shanita hadn’t been treated well in her past relationships. Maybe that was true. Maybe not. Some girls just weren’t accustomed to getting much, so everything excited them.
He drove from CinéBistro in Brookhaven to Phipps Plaza in Atlanta. A short two-mile drive and they were at the mall.
“I thought we were going to your house?” Shanita asked.
“We are. Let’s go inside for a minute.” Getting out of his car, Chancelor led the way to the entrance.
“Wow! This place is over-the-top.” Her eyes roamed up, down, side to side. She stopped. “Look at those shoes in the window. Oh, my goodness. I’ve never seen so many sparkles on designer tennis shoes. Wow!” Her expression was like that of a kid looking into a candy store.
“Let’s go inside,” Chancelor casually suggested.
Shanita’s mouth was wide open, and then she said, “The backpacks! Oh, my gosh. I’d love to have one of these for school, but I’d have to spend a whole year trying to pay for it. I don’t have rich people’s money.”
Chancelor told her, “Pick out whatever one you want and a pair of shoes. I got it.”
“Oh, no, I can’t let you spend that much money on me. You paid for the date. And we’re not even in a relationship.” Was Shanita talking to him or the backpack?
Chancelor told the salesperson, “Give her whatever she’d like.”
After paying for a backpack, a pair of tennis shoes, and a watch, Chancelor and Shanita walked through the mall. He had one more stop to make for her. They entered the lingerie store.
Again, Chancelor told her, “Pick out whatever you’d like.”
He’d never say that to Tracy or Elite. Shanita placed her bag on the floor. He left it there.
“All of these things are pretty, but it’s not the freaky kind of lingerie. Where’re the animal prints? This looks like stuff for rich white people.”
Chancelor eyed the salesperson, shook his head.
Picking up a set, Shanita stumbled over her bag. “A thousand dollars for a bra and panties. This is ridiculous. People actually pay this price?”
“Excuse me, miss. The thousand dollars is for the bra only,” the salesperson explained. “The panty is an additional eight hundred—”
Chancelor interrupted, “Pick out whatever you like.” He was ready to leave.
“I’ll have the purple set. That’s my favorite color. But I have to tell you,” Shanita told him, “I’m never going to wear it. This is my good stuff.”
The hell she wasn’t! Chancelor laughed. She was putting that on in approximately one hour. “Let’s go.”
Parking in his garage
, they entered his home, into the kitchen.
“Oh. Wow! Give me a tour of your mansion,” Shanita requested immediately as she circled the island. “Your burners are over here. Where’s the stove?” She glided her hand along the countertop.
Good, Chancelor thought. Shanita had left her bags inside his trunk. That way, in case they had to leave abruptly, all he needed was for her to hop in the passenger seat.
“Oh, shit!” Chancelor said.
“What?” Shanita asked, lifting her hand. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Nothing. Have a seat in the living room. Better yet, make us a cocktail. There’s champagne in the refrigerator and a wet bar in the theater room.”
Chancelor entered the master bedroom. Vanessa was sitting up in the bed with one knee bent, holding a book. He hadn’t thought of where to store her when he had company. Placing his hand behind her back, and the other under her knees, he picked her up.
“I forgot to ask what do you like in . . .” Shanita froze.
The book fell on the floor. “Get out of my room,” he demanded.
Shanita moved closer to him and his doll. “What is that? And why is she in your bed?”
There was no way Chancelor could lie his way out of this situation. He decided to tell the truth. Sitting Vanessa at the foot of the bed, he explained, “This is my sexbot. Women nowadays come with a lot of drama. I wanted to see what it would be like to come home to something unique.” He was lying, and he added another lie, “I bought her before I met you.”
Rubbing Vanessa’s leg, Shanita asked, “How much did she cost?”
“Vanessa was twenty grand,” Chancelor said, moving Shanita’s hand.
“Twenty what! I can get a new car for that price.” Shanita felt Vanessa’s breasts. “These things feel real. If I’m going to be around, she has to go.”
“She’s not going anywhere, because you, like the rest, will probably find away to use me, too.” Chancelor removed Shanita’s hands from Vanessa’s areolas.
“Does she have a real pussy?” Shanita poked her fingers in Vanessa’s vagina before Chancelor could block her hand. “Oh, my gosh! She has a G-spot. Can she squirt?” she asked, jabbing repeatedly.
“Stop it!” Fed up with Shanita, Chancelor commanded, “Vanessa, tell Shanita not to touch you again.”
Vanessa stared at Shanita. “Shanita, do not touch me again.”
“This bitch on some Alexa shit!” Slap! Shanita smacked Vanessa in the face. “I’m not going to have a bot-bitch telling me what the fuck to do or not to do.”
Chancelor quickly stood between Vanessa and Shanita. Defending Vanessa, he said, “Keep your hands off of her.”
Staring at Chancelor, Shanita reached around him and punched Vanessa on the ear. Vanessa fell sideways onto the mattress.
“I’ll fight a bot-bitch.”
Chancelor stepped aside, then said, “Vanessa, slap Shanita.”
The doll sat up, swung, hitting Shanita in the face.
Shanita snatched off her earrings, hopped on top of Vanessa, and started punching—left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right—until Chancelor pulled her away from his doll.
Shanita kicked the air. “I don’t hear that bitch talking now.”
He carried Shanita into the kitchen and out the door. They were both quiet on the drive to her home. Parking in front of her house, he released the trunk.
“Get your things,” he said, then asked, “You want to go to a concert tomorrow?”
“All right,” Shanita said. “Tell Vanessa if I see her tomorrow, I’ma beat her ass again.”
Chancelor returned to his house, went to his bedroom. “Vanessa, sorry about what happened. How are you, honey?”
She replied, “I am great. How are you, my love?”
“Horny,” he said.
What Shanita had done had actually turned him on. Two women fighting over him was a first.
“I am here to take care of your every need. What would you like me to do?” Vanessa asked.
Removing his clothes, Chancelor left them in a pile on the floor next to the bed. Propping his doll on her knees in the middle of the bed, he slid underneath her, bowed her head to his privates, then penetrated her mouth.
“I’d like a blow job,” Chancelor requested.
Vanessa tightened her mouth around his shaft. Moving as though she were blowing up a balloon, then swallowing all of the air, she repeated the motion.
“Stop,” Chancelor commanded. “Your mouth is dry. I need lubrication.”
“You can get your own or I can make my mouth wet, which would you prefer?” she asked.
“Make your mouth wet, bitch.” Leaning back on the pillow, with his hands behind his head, Chancelor smiled.
He wasn’t sure where the lubrication came from, but her mouth now felt like a moist vagina. And Vanessa tirelessly bobbed and sucked Chancelor into paradise. He began to moan, pretending she was real.
“I’m about to cum,” he said. “Cum with me, Vanessa.”
The doll continued sucking. The more she bobbed, the harder his dick became.
“Stop. I want to cum on your face.” Pulling out of her mouth, Chancelor stroked himself. “Cum with me, Vanessa,” he said again.
“Okay, I am cumming,” she replied.
Releasing himself on the doll’s face, Chancelor questioned whether this should be his permanent sexual companion.
Getting out of bed, he bent her legs, then laid her flat on her back. Fingering her pussy, he saw that she was wet.
Chancelor went to the other bedroom, returned with the special cleaning solution, then dampened the cloth. He thoroughly wiped the inside of Vanessa’s mouth and her face. Spreading her legs, he used the brush to clean her vagina.
Chancelor picked up Vanessa. Struggling to put her back in the box after several attempts, he tossed in the towel, brush, solution, and the reviving powder, taped the box, then stored her in the garage.
“At least a real bitch can wipe her own ass,” he said, slamming the kitchen door.
Chancelor texted Shanita, Get dressed. I’m on my way to pick you up.
He was actually starting to like Shanita. He realized that with her, he didn’t have to try to be someone he wasn’t in order to impress her.
Shanita messaged, When I get to your house, that bitch best be gone, and she’d better not be wearing my earrings.
CHAPTER 55
Jordan
Jordan stared at her cell: either Langston was stupid or he thought she was dumb.
Leaning back in her swivel chair, Jordan’s desk was covered with legal documents. The highest stack was for Donovan. Another for Mr. Ealy. Pile three through nine for cases coming up later in the week.
Deciding to answer, she said, “You know I know, right?”
“Hey, sorry for blocking your number. I called to apologize for standing you up a couple of weeks ago, but I had an emergency situation,” Langston said.
“Emergency?” Opening her bottom drawer, she removed the framed photo of Langston, tossed it in the trash can. “Like human trafficking?” Hearing his voice made Jordan cringe. “Apology not accepted.”
“Baby, some shit went down that wasn’t kosher. I had to get ghost. But I’m back in town. Whatever you heard on the news, I can explain the mix-up. There’s this dude that looks exactly like me using my identity. He’s my fucking twin damn near. And the worst part is, my fucking partner, Theodore Ramsey, he was in on that trafficking shit with setting up Kingston. The police is working to catch the right guy. That’s why I’m out. Let me make it up to you,” Langston begged. “I’ll come to your place. That way we won’t chance any misunderstandings or illegal interruptions. What’s a good time?”
Really? Did he believe his fast-talking would overrule her judgment of him? Or she’d be a fool and trust him again? How disrespectful of her law degree. For goodness’ sake, she was an attorney. He had to have known that she knew he was arrested for and charged with human trafficking. “
I don’t understand why Judge Goodwin set bail, when bail for you should’ve been denied.”
Retrieving the framed photo from the trash, Jordan removed Langston’s picture, shredded it, then tossed the frame in the bottom drawer. He wasn’t worth losing the $400 she’d paid for the crystal.
“Exactly. She gave me bail because I’m innocent,” he insisted. “Soon as the cops find my identical, the case against me will be dropped.”
Well, if this was the game Langston wanted to play, game on! Jordan replied, “I’m getting ready to leave the courthouse. Let me call you back when I get home.”
Abruptly Langston said, “Jordan.”
“Yes” was all she’d replied.
“Don’t call the police on me. It’ll put the spotlight on you. Let the authorities do their job. Give me a chance to explain my side,” he pleaded, sounding desperate.
Jordan had already spoken with the police. She wasn’t a person of interest anymore. “That’s fair,” Jordan told him. “I’ll text you a time to come over. See you then.” She ended their conversation. No way was she meeting with Langston without notifying the police.
Langston Derby could step foot into her residence under one condition. More infuriated than with his self-invitation, Jordan was livid that he intended to involve her further.
An incoming phone call from Donovan registered. “Greetings, Mr. Bradley.”
“I’m glad we’re back on track. What’re you wearing?” he asked, then laughed.
All too familiar with his jokingly sexist statements, she didn’t flirt with his humor. Jordan firmly stated, “I was never off track, Mr. Bradley.”
He hacked. Cleared his throat. “Hey, how’s the case coming along?”
“We’re in a good position. I need you to come to my office tomorrow so the team can give you an overview and answer any questions you may have. We’re working on having Anne Whitehall fired from the department. That would put us in excellent position for the lawsuit. Hold on. Actually, let me take this call.”
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