Queen of His Heart

by Adrianne Byrd

  “Yeah, yeah. I was just…you know.” She waved off the producer’s concern. “I’ll do better.”

  Jalila felt a little sorry for her friend.

  “All right, Jalila, we’re going to take you over here to camera number three so you can do a few sidebars. You know, your first impression of the men and that sort of thing. After that, you just come out and mingle. Just relax and be yourself. Try your best to ignore the cameras and everything will be fine.”

  Jalila nodded as she allowed Nitara to escort her across the room. She only caught about half of what the producer was saying because she was talking a mile a minute. When the camera rolled again, Jalila did feel much more relaxed.

  The first brother to introduce himself walked and talked like a real-life wet fantasy.

  “Hello, I’m Dontrell Smith.”

  Jalila slid her delicate hand into his. “Nice to meet you.” She smiled.

  “No. Believe me the pleasure is all mine.”

  He winked and Jalila’s knees nearly knocked together. “So, Dontrell. What exactly do you do?”

  “I’m a personal trainer. I own a chain of health clubs in L.A., Atlanta and New York.”

  Jalila’s gaze raked over his impressive body. “Nice.”

  He smiled. “So if ever you’re in the mood for a really good workout, I’m your man.”

  The line was a little cheesy, but he was fine enough to pull it off. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” she told him. Belatedly, she remembered the cameras and blushed when she realized that the whole world would see and hear their sexual innuendo. She’d need to pull back before she was branded a “ho” and her parents would be forced to find a new church.

  She went back to mingling. There were a lot of charmers, though some were working too hard and some seemed to think that she needed to try to impress them.

  Another brother who had potential was Tion Johnson—mainly because of his striking resemblance to her favorite actor and fantasy Idris Elba.

  “Tion,” she repeated, sipping on her third glass of champagne. “Now that’s an interesting name.”

  “Why, thank you.”

  “And what is it that you do, Tion?”

  “I work in the governor’s office. I’m hoping to make a name for myself in politics.”

  “So you work for the Governator?”

  He chuckled. “What can I say? It’s a job.”

  For the next twenty minutes, Tion and Jalila were engaged in a deep conversation about the 2008 presidential election.

  “I don’t think we’ll have another race that exciting in our lifetime,” he concluded.

  Jalila agreed. She liked the fact that this man was not only easy on the eyes but was intelligent. Both were incredible turn-ons.

  Two hours later, the night drew to an end. It was going to be a hard decision. The crew taped Jalila and her girlfriends going off to a separate room to confer.

  “Welcome back, ladies,” Krammer said, after the men had lined up to hear Jalila’s selection. “We have all been waiting on pins and needles. Have you made your selection, Jalila?”

  “I have.” She smiled warmly at the crowd.

  “Okay, guys. When Ms. Jalila calls your name, you’ll step forward and accept this silver bracelet. On it is a heart-shaped charm with Jalila’s name on it.”

  Jalila cocked her head. The bracelets were a little cheesy, but whatever. She stepped forward. “First of all, it was a pleasure meeting all of you. I really had a great time tonight. Unfortunately, I can only choose three of you to move on to round two.” Her smile turned apologetic. This was sort of brutal—dumping people on national television.

  “With that being said, my first pick is…Dontrell Smith.”

  Dontrell stepped forward, his smile and confident stroll giving Jalila a thrill. “Dontrell, do you accept this bracelet to become my potential king?” Okay, that was cheesy, too.

  “Yes, I do.” He winked.

  Jalila leaned forward and snapped the bracelet around his wrist. “My second choice is…Tion Johnson.”

  Tion stepped forward and they performed the same ritual.

  “With the help of my girls, my last and final choice is…Evander Taylor.”

  Evander, a commercial real-estate developer, stepped forward. Handsome, smooth and a real lady-killer, if ever there was one. But most important, he knew how to make her laugh.

  “Well, there you have it, America,” Krammer said into camera number one. “Our bachelorette has made her choices. Tune in next time and watch as one of these men will go on to win the love of our Queen of Hearts.”

  “Aaaannnnnnddddd cut!”

  Chapter 13

  Keenan vowed to stay away from the Queen of Hearts set. It was a promise that was not just necessary but essential to his mental well-being. However, it didn’t stop him from wondering—no, obsessing—over how the taping was going at his place. How did the bachelors react upon seeing their potential prize? Keenan frowned. Of course he knew what their reaction would be, the same as that of any red-blooded man confronted with a beautiful woman.

  The real question was how did Jalila react to seeing them? Did she find them attractive? Did she click with any of them? Was there a spark?

  He shook the troubling thoughts from his head. What was he, a glutton for punishment? Of course she would be attracted to some of them. That was the whole point. Keenan gave himself a mental kick in the butt. The worst part of this was that he was responsible for all of it. He had decided to have this grand speed-dating party for Queen of Hearts at his house.

  His house.

  “Yes, I’m definitely a glutton for punishment.” He drew a deep breath and glanced around the room where a fabulous birthday party was being thrown for one of the senior executives at HBO. He’d forgotten which one. Keenan had only accepted the invitation as a distraction, and it wasn’t proving to be a good one at that. It had been two weeks since he’d slept with Jalila and instead of moving on, something was constantly pulling him back.

  Maybe because it was the lousy way you ended things. Keenan let the thought echo in his head while he faced that awful truth. There was no excuse for what he’d done. Fear of falling for her or not, he owed Jalila if not an apology, an explanation.

  Yet, he hadn’t been able to do it. Still couldn’t do it.

  “Are you having a good time?”

  Keenan turned and barely stopped the groan from falling from his lips. “Tenetria.”

  “Ah, so you do remember my name,” she said, somehow both smiling and looking as if she’d spent the past hour sucking on a lemon at the same time.

  “Trust me, it’s seared into my memory for the rest of my life.”

  She cocked her head. “That’s just about the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Really? I thought that was when I told you that I wanted a divorce,” he volleyed.

  “Good point. How about the second sweetest thing?”

  He smiled. “So what are you doing here?”

  “I was invited.”

  “And you never miss an opportunity to party.”

  “I needed something to cheer me up. You know, me being homeless and all.” She reached for a drink from a passing waiter.

  Keenan shook his head. He did not want to be pulled back into any drama involving his ex-wife. “If you’re truly homeless, then go back to your parents’ place.”

  “I’d rather live on the streets,” she quipped, tipping up her glass.

  “That’s your pride talking.”

  “And how much pride do you think I’m swallowing by asking to move back in with you?” she challenged. “Surely, you don’t think I’m having a good time begging you to take me back?”

  “I don’t know. You looked like you were having one hell of a time turning my office into something like the champagne room at some strip club.”

  Amusement flashed in Tenetria’s eyes. “All right. Maybe that part was fun.” She inched closer to him. “You know, my si
tuation still hasn’t changed.”

  He stepped back. “And my answer hasn’t changed. You’re a grown woman and it’s time that you start taking care of yourself.”

  He set his empty drink down on the bar and turned to leave. At the door of the posh Avalon Club, he handed his ticket to the valet. While he was waiting, his BlackBerry vibrated against his leg. “This is Keenan.”

  “The party is a wrap!” Nitara declared.

  “Great. How did it go?” he asked, not really wanting to know.

  “Fabulous! We managed to break only a few things in your house.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  “No. Everything went great. You were right. The cameras absolutely loved Jalila. And she was so relaxed and went along with everything. Her girlfriends were another story. But hey, I’m sure we can cut out a lot of their nervous twitches and wide-eyed looks in the editing room. Overall, the night was a big success. Jalila had the men eating out of the palm of her hand. Even some of the cameramen wanted to pass her their number.” She laughed.

  Keenan scowled. “Well, that’s good. I’m pleased to hear everything went so well.” He kicked at the concrete.

  “Yeah, footage is headed over to Mack Media for editing. Guess I’ll drop by after everyone clears out of here to see how it’s going.” She sighed.

  “No need.” Keenan chuckled. “I’ll swing by and take a look at it.”

  “Really? You’re sure you don’t mind?”

  Keenan smiled, holding the phone as he walked up to his car, slipped the valet a folded bill and then slid in behind the wheel. “Mind? Isn’t that the real reason you called?”

  “That transparent, huh?”

  “A little, but don’t worry about it. I guess I need to earn my paycheck every now and then. Consider it done. Go home and be a wife to your husband.”

  “Are you kidding me? As tired as I am, I’m hitting the shower and then the bed. If Martin so much as touches me, he’ll be pulling back a nub.” She laughed.

  “Hey. Stop all this black-on-black crime.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

  “Deal. Good night.” He shut off the phone and then sped out of the restaurant’s parking lot and traveled east.

  Mack Media was an editing house contracted to handle most of A.M. Production’s television projects. Editing, whether film or digital (which everything was nowadays), was a tedious job. It would take hours, days and weeks to sift through frames of footage and splice and cut them for just one forty-seven-minute cohesive segment to air to a viewing audience.

  When Keenan entered the media house, he was greeted by two men who looked like college students, Jesse and Lamar.

  “Hey, guys. What’s up?”

  “Nothing but the late hours,” Jesse, a cocky blue-eyed grunge rocker, retorted. “I see you and Nitara finally took the plunge into reality TV.”

  “We’re in the business of giving viewers what they want, right?”

  “Whatever pays the bills,” Lamar agreed.

  The men exchanged brief handshakes and then immediately got down to business. Keenan peeled out of his jacket, pressed his weight into a cheap office chair and leaned over the controls. “All right. Let’s see what we have here.”

  Jesse and Lamar uploaded a couple of digital disks and numerous pictures came up on two different thirty-inch screens. “Right, we’re first going to separate all the sidebar clips from the bachelors and the women. That’ll help us streamline, but the rest of it is going to be much harder,” said Lamar.

  Keenan nodded and then felt a punch to the gut when Jalila’s smiling face came on to the screen.

  “Wow,” Lamar said, eyes bugging. “Now, she’s a knockout!”

  “Is there any way I can pass her my phone number?” Jesse asked. “I know I’ll treat her right.”

  “I can’t believe she has any problems finding a man to tap that.”

  Keenan ground his teeth as his face heated. “Do you two mind? We’ve got a lot of work to do here tonight.”

  The editors looked at each other. “Oookay,” Lamar said under his breath. “Someone is grumpy.”

  Keenan held his tongue and then continued to stare at the screen. Was Jalila wearing a dress or red body paint? One wouldn’t have to have much imagination to know what she looked like naked.

  The image of Jalila writhing beneath him flashed in Keenan’s mind and his cock hardened instantly against his leg. He scooted his chair up so he could hide his erection underneath the control panel.

  As the footage continued to run, Keenan’s irritation quickly gave way to a fierce jealousy. He watched helplessly as Jalila smiled, winked, flirted and even kissed the cheeks of those grinning a-holes vying for her hand.

  Hell, did she have to look like she was having that much fun? “Hey, who’s that guy?” Keenan inquired, pointing to the screen closest to him.

  “Uhm, I’m not sure,” Jesse said, and then scanned the clipboard. “A Dontrell Smith. One of the guys she chose at the end of the night. According to production notes we need to make sure we keep a lot of footage of him tonight.”

  Keenan’s scowl returned. She chose him? He cocked his head to the side, thought that the man was just a’ight—nothing to write home about. He looked a little too bodybuilderish to him. Probably on steroids. Probably had a small dick.

  On the other screen, Jalila was laughing. “Hey, roll sound on this one,” Keenan ordered.

  “All righty.” Lamar cued the sound.

  “So, Dontrell. What exactly do you do?”

  “I’m a personal trainer. I own a chain of health clubs in L.A., Atlanta and New York.”

  Jalila’s gaze rakes over his body. “Nice.”

  He smiles. “So if ever you’re in the mood for a really good workout, I’m your man.”

  “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”

  “Humph.” Lamar chuckled. “I can’t believe that cheesy-ass line worked.”

  “Do you two mind?” Keenan snapped. “We’re supposed to be professionals here.”

  Jesse and Lamar sank down in their chairs. “Yes, sir.” From that moment on, they knew they were in for a long night.

  Chapter 14

  After an eventful day and night, Jalila had returned home late and collapsed on her bed, dress and all. Her only mistake was not putting Cujo outside for the night, because the sound of his barking early the next morning ensured her waking up with a head-splitting migraine. Someone somewhere was pounding on something.

  “Go away,” she moaned into her pillow.

  A bell was added to the mix.

  When the pounding, the barking and the ringing of the bell continued, she tried to bury herself under the pillows. The racket only intensified until she had no choice but to bolt out of bed with a major attitude. “I’m coming!” she shouted.

  Jalila marched out of the bedroom in last night’s dress and torn stockings to give whoever it was at her door a good piece of her mind. Reality didn’t settle in until she threw open the door and Cujo leaped at a surprised cameraman.

  “What the—” Bam! He and Cujo hit the tiled porch.

  Jalila was instantly awake. “Cujo, no!”

  Growling, with his canine teeth exposed, Cujo made it clear that he was in the mood to have the cameraman for breakfast.

  “Cujo, stop! Oh, my God.”

  The rest of the crew, including Nitara, scattered.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She grabbed Cujo’s collar and tugged. “Are you all right? Give me a second. I’m going to just put him in the backyard. I totally forgot you guys were coming.”

  She dragged Cujo, barking and slobbering like a rabid animal, through the house. Getting the dog to the backyard was harder than usual because she still had on her stockings. She seemed to slip and slide more than anything else. Once Cujo was in the backyard, she felt as if she’d had a complete workout. The camera crew still looked hesitant to come inside the house.

  “Please, c’mon
in.” She smiled reassuringly. “I swear it’s safe.”

  Nitara crept in first, her eyes darting around as if she expected the bogeyman to leap out at her. “Girl, what are you doing with something that big in here?”

  “A single girl needs protection,” Jalila joked. “C’mon. Make yourself at home, I’m just going to run up for a quick shower and I’ll be right back.” She turned and raced up the stairs, her face still burning with humiliation.

  After her shower and a quick change, the rest of the day went rather well. Cameras rolling, Jalila gave America a quick peek into her life. She led the cameras through her house, introduced her dog—through the sliding glass door since the cameraman didn’t want any more up-close-and-personal encounters with Cujo for the rest of his life.

  Next, she took the camera crew to Body by Jalila, where she introduced her employees and explained her business and her products.

  Sidebar:

  “So how is it that you got into this business?” asks the fresh-faced Jon Krammer.

  Jalila takes a deep breath. “Well, like most teenagers, I went through an acne stage. My mother and I bought practically everything that we could find to help clear up the problem. Nothing worked. In college I started going to a dermatologist who loaded me up with prescription creams and they didn’t work.” She laughs. “So, finally my grandmother heard what was going on and simply suggested that I try some old homemade remedies. You know, products that didn’t have all these chemicals in them. So we broke out the basics. Oatmeal, honey, the whole nine. Next thing I know my face started clearing up.

  “Then my girlfriends started asking me what I was using and could I make some products for them. So I did, and one thing led to another.” Jalila smiles brightly for the cameras.

  The next stop was at her parents’ place. When Jalila had told her parents about the crew coming over, she’d asked them to behave normally. However, when they opened the door, her brain couldn’t process this version of her mother, dressed like Donna Reed, replete with pearls and diamonds.