"Yeah…‘cause honestly, I had a long flight, and I'm tired as fuck. I’d rather just lay on the couch and just chill for the night.”
She stood there in disbelief. He had to be joking.
He walked toward the kitchen and opened the fridge.
She followed after him. "So, you mean to tell me you brought me over here, giving me the impression that we were gonna have sex, only to tell me that you wanna...chill?"
He shrugged, opening his can of beer.
"So, you just wasted my time."
"Nah, you could kick back and relax. We could watch a movie or talk. Whatever you want." He took a sip.
She scoffed. "Talk?"
"Yeah."
"About what?"
"Anything."
"We have nothing to talk about, Cameron."
"Yeah, we do. Let's start with you first. What'd you do today?"
The sudden thought of that TMZ article rushed to her mind and she tensed, aggravated.
"You know what? How about I ask you that? What did you do today? No, actually what did you do this weekend? We should start with that," her harsh response even surprised herself.
Taken aback, Cam said nothing.
Noticing her rapid breaths, she exhaled, forcing herself to calm down.
He scratched his temple. "Uh, well I finalized my endorsement deal. Hit up some clubs, hung out with some friends, then came back home."
She laughed, turning around. "Right. I'm sure that's all you did."
"What?"
"Nothing." She plopped on the couch. "Nothing at all."
"Yo, is something wrong?" He entered the living room with a frown. "’Cause it sure seems like it."
"You wanna know what's wrong? Not telling me you went back to your little model girlfriend. That's what's wrong."
"What?" His head jerked.
She promised she wouldn't bring it up. But damnit, he pushed her to it.
"The hell are you talking about?"
"Oh, you don't know what I'm talking about? How about we pull up TMZ then." She pulled out her phone and went to the website. She read the title of the article, "’Heavyweight boxer, Cameron Lewis and high fashion model, Farah Hedges rekindle their love.’"
"Wow." He looked up at the ceiling. "So, that's what this is about."
She folded her arms, waiting for a response.
"First of all, if you would've just asked me, I would've told you that that's a lie. Me and Farah have nothing going on. She's just a friend. Second, even if we did hook up, that ain't none of ya business. It ain't like we together. Shit, we ain't even dating. So, you have no reason to be jealous."
She laughed. "Jealous? Please. I'm far from jealous, honey."
"So, why ya ass 'been acting salty all night, then?"
"Because, I don't have time for the games. If we're going to be sexually involved, I need you to be honest with me. That means if you wanna go screw your little anorexic model bitch, then at least give me a heads up, so I know to keep my distance."
He gave her a bewildered look. "What?"
Reese glared at him without a word.
"So, let me get this straight. This whole time you made it clear that all you want from this is sex. But the moment you assume that I'm messing with somebody else, now you wanna act like you give a fuck? That's some flawed ass logic, sweetheart."
"Please, I could care less about where you wanna stick your penis in. It's the lack of respect I have a problem with."
"The lack of respect? The fuck are you talking about?"
"You know what? Forget it. I'm done." She threw her phone into her bag, ready to leave. She didn't even want to be near him right now.
"Nah, you brought it up. So let's talk about it." He sat on the couch.
"I said I'm done."
"Oh, now you don't wanna talk. See, that's ya problem. You always got something to say about everybody else. But the moment the spotlight's on you, you don't say shit."
She sat there, taken aback.
He shook his head. "You wanna know why I brought you here in the first place? To get to know you. To see what's hiding behind that cold ass shell of yours."
"Oh, please. You wanna get to know me? Let's not fool ourselves, Cameron. We both know what you really want."
"What, sex? Let me tell you something, sweetheart." He folded his hands, staring at her. "Pussy, comes a dime a dozen for me. I could fuck any bitch I want, whenever I want. It's nothing for me. So, if you really think I'm pressed for that, you're wrong. Maybe if your head wasn't stuck so far up your ass, you'd see that."
Shocked, she fell silent.
He scoffed and walked into the kitchen. On impulse, she followed after him.
"Why?" she asked.
"Why? What?"
"Why, me?"
He spun around. "Because, in some fucked up twisted way, I actually like you. That's why."
Her heart bolted to her throat.
"You barely even know me," she said lowly.
"And I wonder why.”
She didn't even know what to say. He actually wanted to get to know her? Why? There was nothing special about her. Didn't he know she was damaged goods? He would be a fool to get involved with someone like her.
"Look, Cameron," she sighed. "If you really want to get to know me, you're only going to be wasting your time. Believe me when I tell you, it's just best that we don't take that next step. So unless our relationship is purely sexual, then there's no reason for us to keep in contact with each other. Period." She turned away and left.
Chapter 22
"Years ago, I was just like ya'll. I was right here at this center, a young kid from the projects. I didn't have a lot of money, or any family. But I had a dream. And my dream was to be a professional boxer," he announced on the mic, as he stood before the crowd of young children and teens seated on the bleachers.
"I used to look up to the greats. Tyson, Frasier, Sugar Ray, Ali. I wanted to be just like them. And you know what I did? I practiced every day. For hours. I'd be right here at the boxing gym, working on my craft. Sometimes Coach G would even have to run me out. Remember that?" he joked, head nodding his past boxing coach across the room, as the basketball gym filled with laughter.
"But, I loved the sport so much. And I believed in my heart that I would make it. So, if you got a dream, hold unto it. No matter what. And I promise you, you could achieve anything you want. Anything. As long as you believe in yourself."
When he finished his speech, cheers echoed the gym.
"Everyone show some love to Cameron Lewis!" Vance, the president of Brookfield community center, approached him. With a smile, Cam gave him daps. "It's an honor to have him here and show love to the community. That's what it's all about. Giving back. So, we wanna thank him for being generous enough to donate one million dollars to the center."
Everyone cheered louder, as the board members entered the gym holding a large check scribbled with his signature.
To donate to the center was truly an honor. And especially after hearing the center would be closing down soon, he did what he could to show his appreciation. Kids from all ages, as well as adults had attended the event to support. He signed autographs and took pictures. During the event, Yasmine stood by the sidelines, recording the whole thing on her tablet. For his PR team, this was another great ploy to clean up his image. But for him, he didn't care about any of that. He never did this for the shine. Or his reputation. He did it because he wanted to give back to the same community that helped shaped him into the man he was today.
Later on that evening, Cam relaxed on Vance's porch, drinking and sharing a few laughs. He lived with his girlfriend, Zara, in a moderate 2 bedroom home in a quiet neighborhood of Queens. Cam had only been here a few times due to his busy schedule, but tonight, he made it his duty to stop by and hang out with his longtime friend.
"I'm just saying, if that was my wife, she wouldn't be on stage dressing like that. Straight up," Vance voiced.
"So, ho
w else is she supposed to dress? She's an entertainer, Vance," Zara argued, who was seated on his lap.
"And? That don't mean nothing. She's a wife and a mother."
"So, what should she do? Dress like Mother Teresa on stage?"
"Yup! And keep all that lingerie in the bedroom for me."
Zara rolled her eyes. "You don’t make no damn sense.”
Cam couldn't help but laugh. For a good 15 minutes, they had been bickering back and forth about Beyoncé and her performance on the MTV awards show. Her scanty attire and seductive performance had caused a stir within the media, with critics arguing about whether or not it was an appropriate move on her part. How the topic of Beyoncé even came up, he had no clue.
"Cam, what do you think? If you were Jay Z, what would you do?" Zara asked.
"I wouldn't give a fuck, personally." He shrugged.
"Thank you!" She slapped her lap.
"You deadass, bruh?" Vance shook his head.
"Nigga, she's Beyoncé. She could get butt ass naked on stage, it wouldn't matter."
"Nah, man. Ain't happening."
"So, me as a dancer, you'd have a problem with me dressing like that on stage?" Zara questioned him.
"We're not even gonna get into that right now." Vance took a pull of his cigarette.
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
Vance head nodded him. "You see what I gotta deal with bruh?"
Cam laughed, amused. They couldn't be more of a right fit. Zara’s feistiness was just perfect for Vance's usually controlled nature. He really locked himself a bad one. With those long dreads, smooth honey toned skin, bold exotic features, and curvaceous body adorned in tattoos, Zara was a dime for sure.
"Yeah, and you love it." She kissed his lips. When they began to make out, Cam grimaced.
"Uh, I could leave if ya'll want..."
They pulled away, chuckling.
"No, I'll leave. I'll let ya'll two have ya’ll little moment." Zara stood up and walked toward Cam. "It was good seeing you again, Cam."
"You too. Take care," he said as they shared a hug.
When she left, Cam slouched in his chair, taking a sip of his beer.
"So, what sup? You ready for that fight?" Vance asked.
"Shit, couldn't be more ready."
He had already been training vigorously. Although the fight was 7 months away, it was never too early to prepare.
"Well, I already started making bets. And I ain't tryna lose no money, nigga."
Cam laughed. "Aye, if you betting on me, you already know what time it is. I'm gonna come with it."
He nodded. "Yeah, I know."
Cam took a sip of his beer, staring at the quieted neighborhood, amidst the warm breeze that brushed along his skin.
"You and Zara happy?"
"If we're happy?" Vance swung his gaze to him and Cam nodded. "Yeah, we are."
"That's whatsup." He stared at his bottle.
"Why?"
"Nothing, just wondering." He took another gulp of his beer. "You don't hear that too often."
"What?"
"People being happy in relationships."
"Yeah..." Vance took a pull of his cigarette, staring ahead. "The shit we 'been through, man, It's crazy we was able to even reach this far. I made some fucked up mistakes in the past. Some I’ll always regret. But after everything, I realized you can't take things for granted. Especially love. When you got somebody who truly loves you, by your side...ain't no feeling like it man."
His words resonating with him, Cam grew quiet.
"So, what about you? You happy?"
"Huh?" He blinked away, meeting Vance's gaze. He forced out a chuckle. "Is that even a question? Of course, I'm happy. You see how many hoes I got, nigga?"
Vance cracked a smile. "Yeah, I feel you."
Cam finished the last of his beer then stood up. "Anyway, I'm a head out. Gotta early work out tomorrow."
"Alright, bruh. It was good seeing you again," Vance gave him a brotherly hug. "And thanks for everything, man. 'Preciate what you did for the center. You know it means a lot."
"Any time, man."
After their goodbyes, they parted ways and Cameron headed home.
Chapter 23
She vowed that she wouldn't do it. But here she was, stalking his Instagram page once again. Pictures upon pictures of himself posted on a yacht, with gorgeous women dressed in bikinis, huddled around him like he was some sort of king. So, that was why he couldn't return her calls. Because he was busy frolicking his wannabe Hugh Hefner ass all over Brazil with his trashy sluts. Repulsive.
"Reese!"
She snapped out of her thoughts. "Huh?"
"What are you looking at?" Yasmine asked.
"Nothing. Just this..." She closed the page. "Email."
"Why? Something wrong?"
"No, it's nothing. But anyway, what were you saying?"
"I was asking, what do you think of the purple?"
Reese glanced at her acrylic tips, coated in the blended purple hue. She had chosen a particular nail polish that supposedly changed colors according to her mood. And with her fair skin tone, the color fit her well.
"I like it. It fits you," she approved.
"It does right? Yeah, I figured I'd like this one better than the blue. It goes with my dress, anyway."
Tonight was Yasmine's 5 year anniversary dinner party for her PR agency. As the CEO, she wanted to celebrate the agency's tremendous growth over the recent years by throwing a festivity in appreciation of her business partners, associates, and clients.
She had also invited her closest friends, and as Yasmine's number one supporter, Reese would be going as well.
They spent the afternoon getting their eyebrows, nails, and hair done. However, the whole time Reese couldn't get Cameron out of her mind. They hadn't seen or spoken to each other since their argument a couple weeks ago. And it bothered her. He didn't even have the decency to return her calls. If he was mad at her, he sure had an immature way of showing it. But what could he possibly be mad about anyway? Did he really expect for them to go any further than where they were now? It would never work out between them. They lived in two totally different worlds. And plus, she couldn't risk her reputation being seen with Cameron. She had already put herself on the line even allowing him to be affiliated with her organization.
But he obviously couldn't understand that.
She snapped to reality, realizing she had drifted into another trance again. She focused on Yasmine who had been busy telling her about Mandigo.
"I slept with Cameron," Reese blurted out.
Yasmine's mouth clamped shut.
Reese drifted her gaze to her hand as the clerk filed her nail, dreading her next response.
"You what?!?"
"I said I slept with Cameron Lewis, the box—"
"Shhh!" Yasmine glanced around the salon. "You can't just be saying that shit out loud in public. You don't know who’s listening."
"Don't be dramatic. There's no one here."
Apart from another woman getting a pedicure across the room, they were the only customers there. And she doubted that woman heard a word she said.
"Shit, they asses probably heard you." She flicked her hand toward the clerks doing their nails. "And don't be fooled just 'cause they speak that Chinese rah rah shit."
"Whatever."
"Bitch, if my nails wasn't wet, I would smack the hell outta you. You out of your damn mind? Why would you even—Ugh! I can't even look at you right now." Yasmine turned away.
"I know, I know. It was stupid."
"For how long? And I know it was more than once."
"Why would you think it's more than once?"
"Because your dry ass ain't got none in years. So, how long?"
Reese shot her a glare at her comment. Bitch.
"About two months," she admitted.
"Two months?" Her eyes widened.
Reese nodded shamefully.
"And you're just now telli
ng me this?"
"I just didn't want to deal with your reaction, or your judgements."
"Well too bad, you're gonna have to deal with it. Didn't I say to stay away from him? Why would you even allow yourself to get caught up with his hoe ass? You know that nigga was just in Brazil, hoing it up with them—"
"I know, I know," she cut her off. She didn't even want to think about it.
"How did this all start?"
"I don't even know."
"Uh-oh..."
"What?" She met her gaze. Yasmine shook her head, staring at her.
"He got you..."
"Got me what?" she said, concerned.
"Strung off that D."
"Oh please." Reese rolled her eyes.
"Yup. Look at you, I could see it in your eyes. No wonder your ass 'been so dazed out this whole day, probably thinking about him the entire time. Matter of fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you were busy texting his ass too. Yup, definitely dickmatized."
"For your information, I haven't been texting him. So, you're wrong about that. And no, I'm not...dickmatized, or whatever you call it."
"You could deny it all you want. But I know that look."
"Whatever."
Yasmine scoffed. "I can't believe you. So, all this time, you were busy getting on me for Mandigo. And look at you. Doing the same exact thing."
"No, I only got on you for Mandigo because he's a bum. And a loser."
"And I thought Mr. You-Know-Who was a rapist. Yet, you're laid up with him," she shot back.
Reese fell silent. She got her there.
"See, this is why your high and mighty ass needs to stop throwing stones. 'Cause, look at you. Being a damn hypocrite."
"Alright, Yasmine. God."
She was so damn sick of her.
"Lucky for you, nobody knows. But for your sake, you seriously need to stay away from him. No matter how good the D is. Trust me, it's not worth the headache. And I'm telling you this as a friend."
"Well, we haven't spoken in weeks, so..."
"Good. Keep it that way."
Reese sighed, staring at her brown painted nails.
"You know, he's coming tonight."
She cringed. Great.
"Are you gonna be okay with that?" Yasmine asked on.
"I'll be more than okay."
Hook'd Page 14
