Be with Me (Strickland Sisters Book 3)

by Alexandria House

  She stared at me, but she didn’t reply. I could tell she was considering what I said.

  “Baby, did you really pay attention to that picture?”

  “Yeah, I did, and I saw your stupid ass smiling at that bitch!”

  “Did you really? I was smiling at Theo. I wasn’t even looking at her.”

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Fuck! Not now! Who the hell is at the door?!

  “Y’all okay in there?!” Angie yelled through the door.

  “Yes!” Nicky and I shouted at the same time.

  “Okay!” she replied.

  With a lowered voice, I said, “Nicky, I know I messed up in the past, but I owned it. I never denied it. If I had messed up this time, if there was anything going on between me and Missy, I’d admit it and then beg for your forgiveness, but nothing happened. I don’t want her, never really did. If I’m honest about it, I was only with her because I couldn’t be with you.”

  Nicky dropped her eyes, but remained silent.

  “I can’t lose you again. My ass won’t make it this time. I can’t sleep, don’t wanna eat. I need you, baby.”

  Her eyes slowly found mine. “Why does it have to hurt so bad? I don’t like feeling like this, Damon.”

  “Then stop feeling that shit. I did nothing wrong. You’re pissed at me over Missy trying to get some revenge. She was trying to break us up and you fell for it.”

  She frowned and leaned her neck back. “Are you calling me stupid?”

  I shook my head. “No, baby. You’re anything but stupid. Hell, you’re the smartest person I know. But I think you have tunnel vision when it comes to me. You’re so convinced something is gonna happen, you jumped on Missy’s fake evidence without really thinking it through. I do not want her. I. Only. Want. You.”

  Her head dropped.

  “Please, Nicky. Don’t leave.” I moved closer to her, placing a hand on her cheek. “This is killing us both, baby. You need to believe me and let it go so we can be together again. Please.”

  She shoved me in the chest, knocking me off balance a little. I stumbled but didn’t fall. Standing there and staring at her, I prepared myself for whatever else she was going to do to me. This was Nicky, so violence was expected. Hell, she could’ve kicked my ass to a bloody pulp and I wouldn’t have cared as long as she didn’t leave me.

  With her chest heaving, she swiped at her nose, and asked, “Why did you bring Ivy to my rehearsal dinner? You had to know that would upset me.”

  Damn, that threw me for a loop. “Uh…I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Because you hurt my feelings?”

  “With Travis?”

  I opened my mouth, closed it, and nodded.

  “Damon…I’m sorry about the Travis thing. I’m sorry for taking so long to move past what happened in high school. I feel like this is my punishment, my karma, and—”

  “I lied,” I interrupted her. “Back when we were in high school and I said the reason I missed your appointment was because I was with Ivy? I lied. The truth is, I’d already broken up with her right after you told me you were pregnant. I lied because I was scared, but I didn’t want you to know I was scared. I was tired of being weak and scared around you. I’ve regretted it every day since. Ivy didn’t mean shit to me. Still doesn’t. Missy, either. It’s you. Always been you. And even if…even if you leave me, it’ll always be you.”

  She didn’t move for a full five minutes, just stood there with her eyes glued to me, and then she collapsed against my chest, her body shaking as she cried. I held her close to me, gripped her tightly, and whispered, “Thank you, baby. Thank you.”

  She wrapped her arms around me, and whimpered, “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too, and from now on, you’re traveling with me no matter what, so we can avoid shit like this. I can’t go through this again.”

  She looked up at me with wet eyes. “What if I get sick again?”

  “Then my ass is staying with you. No more being apart.”

  She nodded and leaned into me again.

  Later that night, I took a picture of us with Nicky lying asleep in my arms, being sure to angle it to hide our nakedness, and posted it on Instagram with the caption: This is my Heaven, my everything. Always has been and always will be. We know the truth and that’s all that matters. #mygirlforever #andever #andever

  By the following afternoon, Missy had deleted all the pictures from that night. There were still copies floating around the Internet, but I was glad she got the message.

  30

  One thing the whole Missy Mae picturegate taught me was that maybe I was too attached to Damon. Like, in an unhealthy, “he’s my world” type of way. It felt good to be immersed in that type of relationship when things were good, but the moment I saw that picture, I lost it, and by it, I mean everything—my identity, my mind, my desire to take care of myself. And even before then, my every waking desire was to be pasted to Damon’s side. The problem was, I’d never been in a real relationship…ever. I didn’t know the proper way to behave. I just knew I loved him, and didn’t mind getting lost in him.

  So after I recovered from our steamy reconciliation, I decided to find myself again. It wasn’t like I was going to move out, because neither of us wanted that, but I knew I needed to do a better job of taking care of myself. The first order of business was for me to hit the massage parlor, the nail salon, and the beauty shop, because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten my hair done, and pre-Damon relationship Nicky would’ve never missed a week of getting her hair laid. I went on a Saturday with Angie and Renee tagging along to the massage parlor and nail salon, and only Renee indulging at the beauty shop with me, since Angie was a natural hair guru who didn’t let anyone but Ryan touch her hair. We met back up with Angie later so we could all three have dinner together, ending a long day of pampering and sisterly bonding. We had so much fun, and I felt more like myself than I had in a long time when I returned home with my hair smelling good and laying on my back and neon orange polish glossing my fingernails. You couldn’t tell me I wasn’t looking hot!

  Although I was trying to do more than be up under Damon all the time, I was disappointed when I returned home to find it empty. No Damon. And shit, if I was real about it, I was horny as hell. Well, I was always horny, but that’s beside the point. Anyway, I sighed as I locked the door behind me and texted him: I’m home. Where r u?

  Damon: I’ll be home in about an hour. Go to the bedroom.

  I frowned. Was he trying to initiate some freaky sexting, or did he just want me waiting in the bedroom for him? Either way, I was down.

  Me: K…

  I walked into the room to find a big gift box on the bed, and on top of it, a smaller gift box.

  Damon: U in the bedroom?

  Me: Yeah. What’s this? A gift? For what?

  Damon: Damn u ask a lot of questions! Open them.

  I rolled my eyes as if he could see me and ripped into the boxes. The first held a bottle of Versace Bright Crystal perfume. The bottle was so pretty, I almost didn’t care what the perfume, which I’d never owned before, smelled like. But it smelled good, really good. In the larger box was a dress similar to one I’d seen Kim Kardashian rock the hell out of—a white, crew neck, tea length, long-sleeve bodycon dress in my favorite size, a size too small. I was going to have to grease myself to get into it, and Damon would have to peel it off of me whenever I wore it. And it wasn’t cheap. I could tell. Damn, Damon had dropped some of that Foreign Son money on me!

  Me: OMG! I love it! I love both! What’s the occasion?

  Damon: I wanna take my girl out and I want her to look sexy as hell when I do it. Wrapping up some stuff with Theo for the comic. I’ll be home by 10. Be ready to jet.

  Me: K. Thanks, baby!

  Damon: Nah, Ima be thanking u when I see u in it. Love u.

  Me: Love u 2.

  Damon: But I’m not playing. Be ready Nick!

  Me: I will! Dang!

  So…I wasn’t re
ady when he made it home, but he knew I wouldn’t be, so whatever.

  He took me to Club Trio, my favorite, most ratchet night club. It sold cheap liquor and held weekly twerking contests. You know, the type of club that allows entry for one guy for every ten girls—an intense ho’ training ground. It was the one place in Romey where you could let your hair down and flat-foot kick it without worrying about being judged, and I loved it. Back in the day, I stayed up in Club Trio. And tonight, I was in the spot with my guy, the sexiest man in the building. That was proven by the gawks he got from the overflow of women. But I told myself I wouldn’t act a fool. He was mine and he was with me, and if I didn’t know anything else, I knew he loved him some Nicole Strickland.

  We found a table, ordered drinks from a waitress in a tight black romper (I had never seen a romper so tight before in my life), and just enjoyed the atmosphere. The place was packed, and the DJ was killing it with a good mixture of old school and current hip hop. I bounced in my seat and Damon was chill, nodding to the music while nursing his beer. This wasn’t really his scene, but he knew it was mine, and he knew I hadn’t been to a club since before we got together. So I appreciated him for bringing me.

  “Wanna dance?” he asked.

  “Yeah. You wanna dance?” I asked.

  He tilted his head to the side and lifted an eyebrow. “I damn sure ain’t letting you dance with no one else.” Standing from his seat looking gorgeous in a black Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood t-shirt, jeans, black Chucks, and a vintage Oakland Raiders baseball cap, he reached for my hand. “Come on.”

  We danced to a Cardi B song. Well, I danced and Damon just stood there cool as hell, grinning and grabbing my hips from time to time, but I could tell he was enjoying the show I put on for him in that tight dress. We drank and danced a little more, and the few guys who approached our table didn’t hit on me, but rather gave Damon dap and said things like, “This you?” or “Man, she bad,” while nodding toward me. Damon would grin, nod, and say, “Yeah, all me.”

  After one of the guys left, Damon leaned across the table, and said, “I’ma tear your little sexy ass up when we get home.”

  And that’s when I realized something. While Travis didn’t like my attention-seeking behavior, Damon loved it. He liked my ho-ish way of dressing, the way I twerked on him on the dancefloor, the attention I got from other men as long as all they did was look. He accepted me for who I was, every bit of me. Hell, it turned him on for other men to want me, because he knew they could never have me. And the fact that it turned him on turned me on, made me once again feel like he saw me as a prize, and by the time he was ready to leave, I was close to overheating. After I made a quick trip to the ladies’ room, we headed to the car, and before Damon could get in the driver’s seat good, I was yanking on his belt, trying to open it, my breathing so loud I was sure I was going to fog up the windows.

  We worked together to get his pants open and down, and with much effort, I pulled my tight-ass dress up around my waist and straddled him as he let the seat back, giving me room to move freely.

  “You just determined to screw me in this car, huh?” he asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  He reached between my thighs. “No panties?”

  I leaned in and nipped his neck. “Nope.”

  “Shit,” he murmured, as he gripped my ass.

  As I took my hand to guide him inside me, he said, “You gonna get us arrested.”

  I smiled, but it quickly disappeared as I eased down onto him with a moan.

  He bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes, his brow furrowed as I grabbed the headrest, buried my face in his neck, and slid up and down his erection.

  “Damn, Nick!” He raised his head and captured my mouth, his tongue searching for mine, sending me to another plane of arousal. He used his hands to orchestrate my movements, making me ride him faster and faster, our breathing labored as we kissed, broke apart, and kissed again.

  “Oh, shit!” I yelled. “Damn, baby!” He felt indescribably good, like something from a really nasty dream.

  He tightened his grip on my butt as he thrusted upward, filling me beyond capacity and hitting my spot repeatedly until pleasure swarmed me, collected in my core, and then erupted, causing me to buck and jerk violently in his lap. “Ahhhhhh!” I screamed. “Damon!”

  His eyes were glued to me as he thrusted two more times before throwing his head back with his mouth hung open, emptying himself into me. I collapsed onto him, my head against his as his heaving breaths disturbed my hair.

  Once we’d both settled down, he said, “And I’ma still tear your little sexy ass up when we get home.”

  *****

  The place was nice. And when I say nice, I mean posh, expensive, decadent. We were at the Southside Strips launch party being held at an upscale LA club appropriately named The Launch Pad. The place was huge, gorgeous, and Karyn McNooner had reserved the entire club for the party. Champagne flowed liberally, fancy hors d’oeuvres were served, and everyone in attendance was friendly, especially Karyn McNooner, who seemed very fond of Damon. Petite, beautiful, stylish, appearing much younger than her forty-five years Karyn McNooner stayed in Damon’s face, grinning and clutching his arm as she introduced him to some of everybody. Damon never released my hand, keeping me at his side the entire evening. There was no doubt in my mind that he held no interest in her, and shit, she was technically his boss, so I didn’t trip. I’m not that big of a fool. And besides, it was Damon’s night, his and Theo’s, and they deserved to be celebrated sans drama, because Foreign Son was nothing short of genius work from both of them. I was full to the brim with pride for my man and happy to be on his arm, right where he wanted me, right where I belonged. We danced, drank, ate, kissed, even fondled a little bit, and had a wonderful time. But make no mistake, I kept my eyes on Karyn McNooner and took note of her fondness for my man.

  31

  I knew Damon was talented and quick-witted. I knew he was smart, passionate, and dedicated to whatever he put his mind to, including me. I knew if Foreign Son got the attention of the right person, it would take off. I knew, was positive even when we were kids, that he’d be successful one day. And I was right. Foreign Son, bolstered by Theo’s beautiful artwork and Damon’s compelling story about a black expat teen trying to find his footing in an unknown land, seemed to resonate with the masses. People loved it! Talks of an animated TV series materialized quickly. Requests for interviews and Comic-Con appearances multiplied. Theo and Damon were even asked to appear on The Today Show!

  In a few weeks’ time, Damon and Theo signed a contract to create another comic, one I didn’t even know he’d been developing, about the adventures of two best friends—a feisty African American girl who was smart and complex, who befriends a geeky little African American boy, quickly becoming his protector. The name of the comic was Nick and Dame. When he showed me a rough draft of the first chapter, I cried like a newborn baby. There we were, me and him as kids, immortalized in Theo’s artwork and framed by Damon’s words. And after I cried, I screwed him until both of us passed out.

  McNooner loved the premise of Nick and Dame and quickly cut Damon and Theo another check, another huge check. Shit, a huger check. I was excited and proud but not terribly surprised, because I knew his potential for greatness long before he did. What did surprise me was the fame that surrounded Damon that had nothing to do with his work. Fairly quickly, Damon went from being touted as the creative mind behind Foreign Son, to the sexy comic book guy. His social media following exploded. Interviews veered off the path with questions about his love life—which he answered truthfully by saying he was in a relationship. But that did nothing to halt the rampant thirst of the droves of women who commented on his posts and DM’d him. I got it. I mean, shit, Damon was sexy as hell, an anomaly in the world of comic lovers—tall, brown, fine, and tatted, with a smile that could make virtually any coochie cream. Hell, the thought of him alone kept me moist. Still, I’d be lying if their reaction to him
didn’t piss me off, but what could I do? There were too many of them. I couldn’t whoop all their asses. There were so many women after him, I couldn’t keep up with the DMs. So, I did something that was totally out of character for me. I ignored them and just let it go. He was mine even before he was mine. His connection to me kept him from loving another woman even when we were apart for years. We were bonded in a divine way. Hell, we couldn’t even break us apart, so I knew those women were powerless to hurt us.

  I was good. That is, as long as no one stepped to him in my presence. I couldn’t be responsible for how I’d react if a bitch tried to get to him in my face.

  Just saying.

  “Move to LA?” Nicky’s eyes were wide with some emotion I couldn’t identify—fear? Anxiety? Whatever it was, it was out of character for her. The only time she showed fear was when it involved her heart, and even then, she wasn’t that transparent about it.

  “Yeah, baby. All this traveling is messing with me, and I don’t think it’s gonna slow down anytime soon. At least I hope it doesn’t.”

  She nodded. “Uh…yeah. It’s been h-hard. The traveling, I mean. But LA? That’s a big leap from Romey. You sure you’re ready for that?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah. It’s not like all I know is Romey. I’ve been around, baby, and at least I can afford it now. Got plenty of money in the bank, and Karyn offered me a job with Southside Strips. A full-time position as a content curator or something like that.”

  “Karyn? When’d you start calling her that instead of McNooner?”