Just Can't Let Go

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Just Can't Let Go Page 9

by Mary B. Morrison

I nodded. “But you know how I feel about it.”

  “I can’t help that, Dev. How we gon’ set a date and we can’t . . . besides, you know my business is about to take off with Ebony. I appreciate your holding me down, but let me be a man and take care of you. Let me make you comfortable in and out of this bedroom.”

  “Don’t change the focus. Marriage is about taking care of one another.”

  “You know I just took her on as my client,” he said proudly. “And—”

  “And she works for me. I pay her! So indirectly I pay you. Don’t act like you got her the role on your own. What does your taking on my main celebrity have to do with our setting a wedding date? First, it was business was slow. Then, you weren’t making enough money to pay for the wedding. Then you needed time to redo the business plan I’ve never seen so you could get a loan. I told you to talk to my mom. She’s the president of a bank that services customers all over the world. But no. You don’t want her counting your coins.” I wanted to say, what coins? “Being on my set twelve plus hours a day, starting today, I’ll be busier than you. Now is the time, Phoenix. It’s not like I’m asking you to go on vacation. This is our wedding I’m trying to set a damn date for.”

  After everything I’d said, he countered, “I’m not spending six figures for one day of making other people happy.”

  “I’m not other people! I’m your fiancée!”

  “I just need a few more months. After filming we should be financially prepared to discuss a date. I’m not letting you foot the bill by yourself.”

  “You said that six—”

  “I’m tired of arguing about this shit, Dev!”

  “Fine. Fine!” I wanted to give him an ultimatum, but I loved this man and didn’t want to lose him.

  I felt as though I was starting to become an embarrassment to my colleagues, casts, friends, and family. What was a reasonable amount of time? This ring had been on my finger for three years. The only time I’d taken it off was to shower. The money didn’t matter more to me than my man or my status. I’d pay for the entire ceremony if it meant being Mrs. Devereaux Crystal-Watson.

  He got out of bed.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have an early-morning appointment with Ebony. Have to prep her on the shoot today. Make sure we get all the shots we need for my promoting her. I’ll see you on set.”

  “She’s my star. Not yours.”

  He smirked. “Everything is going to be all right. The most important thing is, we love each other.”

  He gave me a real sweet tongue kiss. That would have to do for now. He headed toward the door.

  “We’ll see you later, babe. I love you.”

  I thought but didn’t say, I love you too.

  Looking over my shoulder, I watched Phoenix until he entered his bathroom.

  I couldn’t let his not committing to a date consume me. I had a long day. First the shoot, then a late dinner with Mercedes at Ocean Prime restaurant.

  CHAPTER 11

  Ebony

  #mynewlife #nextchapter #SophisticatedSideChicksATL #SSCATL #iamebonywaterhouse

  Videotaping strawberries, banana, blueberries, protein powder, and unsweetened almond milk blending in my Magic Bullet, I posted it on Instagram, then poured twelve ounces of ice-cold aloe vera gel in a squeeze bottle, added a small tube of Neosporin, and shook it up. Flipping over my Bullet, I unscrewed the top, filled a tall glass, and then carried my breakfast and beauty treatment out back. Inhaling the fresh morning air, I placed both items on a round table, then covered the lawn chair with two beach towels.

  I was young, not foolish. After marrying Buster, moving into his house in Conyers, I’d kept my home in Brookhaven. BK was a quiet community adjacent to Buckhead. Houses here were close enough to call the people next door my neighbors. Immediately after closing escrow three years ago, my sponsor had a ten-foot brick wall built to deter anything with two or four legs from crossing onto my property. There was a gun in every room. Never had to, but wouldn’t hesitate to use any of them.

  A call came in from Buster. I answered, “Morning,” with a smile.

  “Sounds like you’re ready for this day.”

  “Getting there,” I told him.

  “I believe in you, Goldie. Your fans are going to love you almost as much as I do. Don’t tarnish my last name. Keep all our business personal.”

  Crossing my fingers, I said, “Promise.”

  I heard a male in the background ask, “Buster, should I wear the light or dark blue briefs?”

  “Sweetheart, I’ll call you tonight. Bye.”

  Placing my cell on the table, I reclined, sipped my smoothie.

  Older men weren’t rude. They were set in their ways. Thinking about my ex-man, the one before Buster, I’d met him online where all types of people were seeking a plethora of arrangements. Couldn’t vouch for other pussies, but my Colombian pussy was more beautiful than the sun rising. Lots of men with money flew me all over the world, bought me expensive jewelry, clothes, cars, in exchange for dates. Some wanted sex; others simply needed me to listen to their problems, or Facetime and talk dirty while they jacked off. What I wanted most was U.S. citizenship and financial security. In that order.

  A few times I ventured outside of my sexual comfort zone and masturbated during Skype sessions to get a quick five to ten grand. I wasn’t trying to be labeled a porn star. The best part of meeting men on the site was most of them were upfront about what they wanted and what they’d invest to get punany. Occasionally, thousands of dollars still posted to my account. Dining at five-star restaurants in exchange for the pleasure of my company was how I’d first met Buster. No woman should be broke. Coochie coupons were recyclable. If I could only have one, I’d rather sex an old rich man than fuck a young broke dude.

  Sunshine beamed on my body. I spread my thighs. It was time to get my money flowing. This was the most important morning of my career thus far. I’d filmed the pilot with Devereaux, but today signified day one of working with her for nine straight weeks. I rubbed the icy aloe and ointment all over my face and naked body to soften and tighten my skin. I sipped my smoothie waiting for the moisture to absorb into my pores.

  Buster was a seasoned romantic freak. He loved for us to watch the sun rise and set every chance we had, which wasn’t often. My backyard faced north. Looking to my left, orange hues slowly blanketed white scattered clouds. My husband also enjoyed stroking himself while watching a young black man with a big dick and sexy ass fuck me. Phoenix didn’t know that I was married to a bisexual seventy-one-year-old man or that I had a home in Conyers. Most women talked too damn much. There was a lot men never revealed. Where they lived. Whom they lived with. If they had a woman, wife. Hell, I’d been the side believing I was the main.

  Juggling men at an early age taught me that no man needed to know everything about me, not even my husband. Starring in a role on #SSCATL was #mylife.

  I covered my hair with a large pink plastic cap, turned on the outdoor shower, rinsed with warm water. Lathering an exfoliate cloth, I scrubbed all over. I squeezed jojoba oil into my palms, massaged my body, changed the water to cold, then shut it off.

  I heard Phoenix call out, “My babe, where are you?”

  “I’m out here, my babe.”

  Joining me on the patio, he said, “Damn, you look hot.”

  “I am. Go take off your shit. Come get this sweet pussy.”

  Phoenix went inside. Two minutes later he came out undressed. I restarted the water, braced my palms against the wall, and spread my legs. Soon as he put the head in I started cuming. Our chemistry was incredible. The deeper he penetrated me, a small orgasm led to a bigger one. By the time he was all the way in, not caring who heard, I screamed with pleasure.

  He pumped faster until he announced, long and loud, “I’m cuming!”

  Looking over my shoulder, I told him, “Cum for me, daddy.”

  Phoenix pulled out. “Damn, she really was hot, wet, and ready for me.” />
  There was no time to bask in the moment. Turning off the water, I said, “We have to get to set. We shouldn’t show up at the same time. I have to get hair and makeup done, then wardrobe, so you arrive about thirty minutes after I get there. I’ll text you.”

  “Let me taste you,” he said. Sticking out his tongue, he knelt before me.

  His mouth on my clit made me wet. I wanted to have another orgasm, but I was not going to be late behind letting a man who thought I was going to pay him to lick my pussy make me climax. Again.

  “That’s enough for now. Meet me back here after we’re done. I wanna ride my dick tonight.” Galloping, I touched his chopper.

  Instantly, he got hard. “Why you teasing him like this?”

  There was no time for that conversation. “Don’t stand over me on set. Don’t give me direction. That’s the photographer’s job. Did you remember to bring your iPad?”

  “Yes, it’s in the car,” he said. “We need to discuss compensation. I was thinking ten grand a month plus ten percent of what I get you in endorsements and sponsorships.”

  Ten what? Phoenix was straight tripping if he thought he was going to get monetarily compensated. Every check would be payable to Goldie Jackson, and his return was open access to my home and my good pussy.

  That five thousand I’d gotten from my husband to give to Phoenix to find me a gig had finally paid off. Damn, it took him three years. Phoenix couldn’t rep me. Outside of Devereaux he did not have any viable contacts.

  The day we met, he approached me all professional talking about how he could make me famous. His pitch was strong. Two months after we’d met I let him hit this ’cause I could tell from his mannerisms he had serious bedroom skills. He wouldn’t have gotten paid if we’d had sex first.

  I didn’t want him managing me. That was his idea. He could quit right now. Nothing in my life would change, unless he became vindictive. Confessed our affair to Devereaux to get me fired. I might have to rethink my plan.

  “Have your lawyer send me the contract, babe.”

  “So you agree to what I’m asking for?” he asked, all surprised.

  “I’ve got to get ready. Let’s discuss this later.”

  I knew if he were the big star he’d expect me to respect his obligation. Hated when men were inconsiderate. “Don’t break with me. Break with Devereaux or stay to yourself.”

  “Dang, what’s up with the long list?” Phoenix said. Following me upstairs to my bathroom, he stood in the doorway.

  Walking past him, I turned on the shower. “You can’t give her a reason to suspect us. This is day one of nine straight weeks for me.”

  “But I told Dev I was meeting with you this morning. Won’t it look odd if we show up separate?”

  “Stop! Telling her every damn thing. She doesn’t need to know every time we meet. Oh, I need you to figure out how to get away for the weekend. And do not tell her you’re going to be with me. We’re taking a mini vacation.”

  “How am I supposed to do—”

  “We leave Saturday, be back Sunday. It’s a surprise. You always lie about being with the boys, one more lie isn’t going to matter.”

  “Yeah, but not overnight. She does come home.”

  “Figure it out,” I told him, stepping into the shower.

  Recalling the changes to the script for the first episode, my pussy was on fire. My scene with West-Léon was what made me wet now. West-Léon was getting a cool four hundred grand. Not bad. He was so fine I prayed I did not have an orgasm while filming.

  I was glad Phoenix was gone when I walked into my bedroom.

  #bossbitch #photoshoot #today #SSCATL #iamebonywaterhouse

  CHAPTER 12

  Alexis

  “You want to go to Stone Mountain with me?” Spencer asked. “Chick, this time of the morning?” I said. I knew the attraction park opened at ten thirty during the summer, but man. I checked my phone, then told him, “It’s nine o’clock.”

  “Your mom is tripping. Worse than kicking a bruh out, she left my naked ass stroking my shit on her couch, told me to let myself out,” he said.

  Cracking up! I almost fell on the floor.

  My mom was like most females. Considering ending the best relationship she’d probably had in years over her dude cheating. I knew her. Although Spencer left my place an hour after she had last night, Blake was wondering if Spencer had dipped his dick inside of Chanel. Wouldn’t be surprised if she believed he’d fucked me too. When would she learn, chicks couldn’t police good dick.

  “Wait, don’t laugh. That’s not all. She told me to go fuck my sister and Chanel.”

  I sat up in my bed. Smirked. Nodded. A burst of laughter escaped, causing me to hold my stomach.

  He paused, I guessed waiting for me to stop hollering. It was cool that he could share details with me of his personal situation with my mom. Blake had no concept of how people my age got down. Sex wasn’t sacred. Cuming was recreational. We did not have sexual hang-ups. That was for people her age.

  Spencer’s firm tone was filled with annoyance when he asked, “You done?”

  Smothering my last few chuckles, I told him, “I know you put the D in her real deep when you got home. You did go straight home right? Or did you detour to Charlotte’s?” I cracked up.

  Silence came before, “I went to Blake’s, man, but all that backlash kept my shit flaccid. What you gon’ do besides ridicule?”

  “Hold on. You woke me up with this hilarious stand-up. What did you expect?”

  “Then I probably shouldn’t tell you Max stared me down like he was the man and my black ass had better not be home when he got back.”

  That was it. I let loose and couldn’t reel in for damn near a whole minute. “Yeah, you need to release some tension. Come get me in an hour. I might not get on the rides, though. Gotta take it easy after those blows to my stomach from your gurl.”

  “Chill,” he said, ending the call as though he hadn’t heard my last comment.

  I needed to get out of bed anyway. Ordinarily I’d hit the gym and get down with Kanye’s workout plan station on Pandora. I amped up “Do Ya,” a single by DaBoyDame. He was my generation’s P. Diddy and Jay Z doing collabs with artists we loved like Ty Dolla $ign. I showered to the beat. Washed every nook and cranny. Layered sunblock all over my hourglass figure.

  Everybody needed something or someone to love. Billy Blackstone had no idea how much joy he’d brought my mom by giving her King MaxB. Blake had a fit anytime anyone called her pedigree a dog. Sandara’s kids adored Max. He had that laid-back attitude I’d want my pet to have. Maybe I should get tropical fish.

  Scanning my halter minidresses, my selection was more about what color I was feeling. Purple stood out. Money green four-inch stilets. Any heel shorter was for the conservatives. Not certain of what part of the three thousand plus acres park we were going to stomp on, I put a pair of mint leather flat sandals in my purse.

  The only breathing animal I needed to love me was me. Wasn’t sure I did the best job of taking care of my emotions, but for sure I had no problem keeping myself first. Unlike a lot of these females in Atlanta trying to keep GPS on their dude, I’d never chase pussy or dick.

  My cell rang. Hopefully, that was Spencer calling to say he was on his way. I didn’t mind people waiting on me, but I hated being the one sitting around.

  I looked at the caller ID. It was my sperm donor. Hopefully he was calling to make good on his offer to financially support me. Knowing there was no baby in my belly, I’d take every penny he offered and call it restitution.

  Still couldn’t call him dad, I answered, “Hey, Conner.”

  “Alexis, this is not Conner,” she said.

  Well, that was obvious. “How can I help you?”

  “This is the nurse at Grady. Your father told us that you’re the only living relative he wants to see. He’s in ICU. He may not have much time. You need to come to the hospital right away.”

  My heart thumped in my chest. �
�What happened? I just saw him yesterday. He was fine.”

  “Honey, he was shot several times early this morning. You need to hurry,” she said.

  Shot? Frowning, I became speechless. I’d only known Conner a few months. Didn’t care much for or about him. But his offer to help me yesterday had softened my exterior.

  Only living relative he wants to see?

  “Are you there?” she asked. “I have to go. Hurry. Please.”

  “Yes, I’m on my way.”

  Before Spencer knocked, I opened my door to gasp fresh air.

  “You look nice, as always. You ready?” Spencer asked, then paused. “Oh, no. What’s wrong?”

  Covering my mouth, with wide eyes I stared at him. There were no tears to shed for Conner. Didn’t know him that well. Wasn’t going to visit him without Spencer.

  “Let me get my purse.” I removed my gun. Placed my forty on the kitchen counter.

  “Now I know something is wrong. Sis,” he said, holding my biceps. “Tell me.”

  Afraid he’d bail on me if I told him the truth, I said, “It’s a beautiful morning. I don’t want to ruin it.” Then insisted, “I’ll drive.”

  The stop we had to make, I knew Spencer wouldn’t agree to if he were behind the wheel. I headed south on Interstate 75. We didn’t have far to go to get to the hospital.

  “James really bought you this ride?” he asked, reclining his seat.

  I was glad he’d asked something that eased my concerns about our father. In a few minutes, Spencer was going to be pissed. I replied, “I earned this bitch.”

  “Cash? Is that how he paid?”

  I went from being alone in my bed, cool with hanging out with my brother, to traveling into the unknown. My immediate future was scary. I didn’t want Conner to die.

  “Did he pay cash?”

  “Oh, I guess. All I made sure of was that my name was the only one on the title.”

  “So why you cheating on the dude?”

  “The question is why not? You guys do it all the time. James has a white girlfriend in Los Angeles. What you call that?”

  Spencer sucked his teeth. “Females always suspect, but y’all constantly suspecting. And you know she’s white and she’s his woman . . . because?”

 

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