It's Wrong for Me to Love You, Part 3

by Krystal Armstead

  I couldn’t resist. I nodded, “Okay.”

  * * *

  I woke up the next morning, lying next to Ashton. He lay sound asleep in his Polo Boxers. He had the prettiest feet I’d ever seen on a man. Do you know how many niggas I fucked who got completely naked but kept their socks on? Ashton and I made it back from the bar the night before. We started ripping each other’s clothes off from the moment that we’d gotten in the door. He worked the shit out of my pussy, had me speaking in languages that I never knew that I even knew. His dick was something to get used to, I can say that much. His stroke was on point; he had to brace himself just to make sure he didn’t rupture anything inside of me. Missionary and doggy style hurt like a muthafucka, but I loved it. Each ring inside of my vagina pulsated as that man entered me. He fucked my pussy dry that night, and I sure as hell felt it that morning.

  I couldn’t shake the mystery of our past from my mind. I kept trying to remember a time in the past where we could have had sex. I had been to several of Misty’s parties back in 2014 when Aaron and I were dating. The last party that I’d gone to was the night before we went to Miami for our dance retreat. I damn sure didn’t remember taking any drugs that night. Come to think of it, I don’t remember anything that happened at that party. All I remember was waking up the next morning at Dana’s apartment, all packed and ready to go on our trip. Ashton told me to let it go, but I couldn’t.

  I looked over at Ashton. He looked so beautiful and so peaceful laying there asleep. I peeled myself from the sheets and got up from the bed. I grabbed his wife-beater, threw it on, then tip-toed out of the room. The help wasn’t at work yet, and I was dead sure that Lilia was in her room asleep. I wanted a nice cup of coffee before jumping in the shower. And just when I strolled into the kitchen, there Jamie was, sitting on a stool at the island in the center of my kitchen. Dude was sitting there with a cup of got-damn juice and a plate of fruit, and the radio was playing next to him like he was at home or some shit.

  I nearly jumped out of my skin. I was basically naked, no panties, no bra, just Ashton’s tank top. I knew Jamie could see everything through my shirt.

  He grinned, sitting there in a white T-shirt and blue sweat shorts. He looked like he was on his way to the gym. “What’s good, shawty? I see your nigga’s car out there in the driveway.”

  I was still in shock, holding my hand over my heart. “How the fuck did you get in here?” I exclaimed.

  “Oh, Lilia let me in a few minutes ago.” Jamie smiled, grill gleaming. “She fixed me this plate of fruit, told me to make myself at home.”

  I rolled my eyes. “That bitch is about to get fired, I swear. What do you want, Jamie? I haven’t seen you in a week, and you just decided to show the hell up out of the blue like I don’t have a fuckin’ life?”

  “Oh, I can see you have a fuckin’ life. You standing here naked and shit, and your dude’s car is in the driveway.” Jamie looked at me as I walked over and sat across from him at the Island. “Shawty, why you playin’ with that boy like this?”

  I rolled my eyes, really not feeling like hearing Jamie’s worthless change. “What are you talking about, Jamie?”

  “It’s not a good idea to sleep with this dude. He’s in love with you, and you’re not in love with him.” Jamie’s eyes searched my face.

  I looked at him. He wasn’t talking to me like a jealous baby’s daddy. He was talking to me like a friend. I sighed. “I know, Jamie. I tried to resist. I really did. But my heart . . . he needs me. He just lost Alisha. I’m trying to comfort him.”

  Jamie shook his head at me. “Well, you’re going about it the wrong way, shawty. I’m sure he’d rather have your heart than your pussy, I’m just sayin’. But it’s none of my business. So, I’ll stay out of it.”

  “Yeah, bruh, you’re right. It really is none of your business. But this is.” I reached inside of the drawer and pulled out the contract that I fucked Kent into signing the day before, and I handed it to Jamie.

  Jamie looked at me. Then started looking over the contract. You should have seen his eyes when he saw all those damn zeros. He put his fist to his mouth. “Damn, shawty!” He looked up at me.

  “Before you get all excited, it’s not final until Coach signs it, too.” I watched Jamie read over it. “Not to mention I told Kent that you were signing with a record label this week. He thinks you’re a money cow and that’s the reason he’s not letting you go. You need to sign with some record label. You have connections, fool, use ’em.”

  Jamie’s eyes searched my face. I knew he wanted to ask me what I did to get Kent to agree to renegotiate his contract for that much. “The nigga was pissed at me a few days ago. Wanted to kill my ass. And now all of a sudden after he ‘speaks’ with you, he not only wants to keep me, but he wants to pay me almost ten times more than what he was paying me at first? The fuck did you do to the nigga, Charlie, to get him to agree to this?”

  I shook my head. “Don’t worry about all that. You just need to stay the fuck away from his wife and away from Coach’s daughter. And like I said, you need to find a label to sign to.”

  Jamie shook his head at me, eyes searching my face. “Shawty, you didn’t have to do this for me.”

  “Yes, I did, boo. You worked too hard to lose this opportunity.” I crossed my legs, almost forgetting that I wasn’t wearing any panties.

  “Good morning, everyone, rise and grind!” Deejay Spinner chimed over the radio station that morning. “Word has it that Kenya Love and the Dutchess of Crunk music, Anastasia P. Jones, are hosting auditions for the new play Thug in Love! They’re looking for the male lead role! Stay tuned, because after the commercial break, we’re gonna announce the address of the first auditions! Bruthas, you don’t wanna miss this one! The lead female role is gonna be played by Baltimore’s own Ne’Vaeh Washing ton- Whitehaven! That’s right, li’l Ne’Vaeh just announced to the world that she was secretly married to Miami Heat’s Aaron Whitehaven last year! More after the break!”

  Jamie looked at me, temples twitching. He was pissed, but I was thrilled.

  My eyes widened. “Hell yeah!”

  Jamie made a ‘bitch, you crazy as fuck’ face at me. “What? Hell naw! I ain’t doin’ that shit!” He got up from the stool.

  I grabbed his arm, but he pulled from me. I sighed. “Jamie, I got you this phat-ass contract! You owe me this! I told this dude that you were a big money investment and that you were gonna bring him in a lot of revenue! Do you know what I had to do to get you this muthafuckin’ contract? You have to do this!”

  “Man, fuck this contract and whatever it is you did to get the nigga to write this shit! I ain’t gonna do this!” Jamie was furious.

  And I was starting to get heated. He was about to let his pride get in the way of his career. “Jamie, fuck your feelings right now, okay? This is the opportunity of a lifetime for you! Anastasia is all about the money, trust me. Please, baby, do this for your son. Do it for me. I did it for you!”

  Jamie looked at me, his anger subsiding a little. “She–she won’t wanna see me.”

  I looked at him. His heart wasn’t prepared to see Ne’Vaeh, but he had to go. I wasn’t going to tell him why, but he needed to go. “Baby, you need to go. This isn’t about your feelings for her. This isn’t about her feelings about you. This is about you saving your career. This is about you providing for yourself and your son.”

  Jamie was still reluctant to say he’d go. “I don’t know, shawty. I don’t know about rehearsals and shit. And having to read shit in front of muthafuckas. You know a nigga ain’t good at that shit.”

  I looked at Jamie. And I knew what else was bothering him. Jamie wasn’t a reader. Had to work mad over time to keep up with the rest of us in school. “Boo, you’ll do fine. You’re not that much of a reader, but your memory has always been better than anyone’s that I’ve ever known. I know one of the groupies who works for Anastasia will be glad to help you memorize those lines. Just go to the audition. What could it hurt?
What harm could be done that hasn’t already been done?”

  Chapter 7: She Knows

  Ne’Vaeh

  “Mmmmm . . .” I sucked on Aaron’s bottom lip that morning, running my fingers through his curls. I held onto him for a few seconds before he slid out of me. “I’m supposed to be working out this morning, Aaron.”

  “That was a workout.” Aaron laughed, easing his way out of me. “Shit, you know I want another dose. But we gotta get goin’, love.” He got up, pulling me up along with him as I quickly grabbed my panties. There we were, making love on the floor, on my yoga mat.

  Words can’t even begin to describe how wonderful it felt being married to that man. But it wasn’t easy. I didn’t want to tell anyone, but Aaron, you know he wanted to tell everybody and their mama about us. I refused to have a wedding. I was okay with wearing a nice dress before a magistrate, but I just wanted Aaron. All that other superficial shit didn’t matter. I’d seen tons of beautiful marriages that ended ugly. Aaron was all that mattered to me.

  After he proposed to me, he went to Miami, and I went back to Atlanta ready to get back to work. After a few weeks of missing Aaron, I flew to Miami the day before my birthday, and he flew me back to Paris, where we were married. You should have seen his face the day that we were married. Watching him crying had me crying. Of course, every girl dreams of getting married in a beautiful white dress, in front of her family and friends. I would have loved to do that, but I wasn’t about the drama. Aaron was everything I needed. And besides, the cheaper the wedding, shit, the more we had to spend on the honeymoon. We started our honeymoon in Paris. Then we flew to Jamaica. And then to Hawaii. I was floating on air, literally.

  Months had gone by before we told Aaron’s parents about us. It was my choice, not Aaron’s. His mother was the first person he wanted to call. I didn’t want to come between the two. I begged him not to tell her, but he told her anyway. You already know that his mother had the biggest issue with us being married. Before she could even get a word in, Aaron cursed her ass out. It was months before Aaron’s father got her to speak to him. Though Aaron’s father didn’t approve of me at first, I think he was proud that his son finally stood up to his mother about the woman that he loved. Aaron loved me, and he didn’t care who else didn’t.

  The next person I was forced to tell was the slave driver, Anastasia. When I tell you she was pissed . . . oh, yeah, she was pissed. You know she loved Aaron for coming to save me after my baby passed away, but her feelings for him soon changed when she realized that Aaron was all I was interested in those days. She just knew Aaron would get in the way of her making money. She knew that I’d spend every waking moment that I could with Aaron. And she was right. After sneaking off to Europe to get married, and after escaping to our honeymoon, I stayed in Miami with Aaron for about three weeks. I went to every basketball game, every sport’s event, and every autograph signing with him. When those three weeks were over, I was reluctant to go back to Atlanta to face Anastasia. When I got home, Anastasia worked the shit out of me. From the moment that I got back from Florida, she had me in the studio. From the moment that I got home from the studio, she had her driver waiting to take me to play rehearsal. I’d gotten the part in the play before I even auditioned. They had me on the panel, helping them choose the other actor’s in the play. So far, we had everyone we needed except for the leading male role.

  And when I wasn’t at play rehearsal, we were at photo shoots, shooting for my new videos, or making club appearances. But worst of all, I hated dance rehearsals. Dance rehearsals with Anastasia were the fuckin’ worst. Why? Because she loved having her dance rehearsals at Crunk Shakers, the strip club she used to work at years ago. She thought I could learn a “thang” or two from those skanks. Man, I knew what the fat girls in the gym felt like watching all the skinny chicks work out. I was barely a size 3, wearing barely a 34B, maybe a C on a good day. These muthafuckin’ strippers were from size 7 to size 14, with 34Ds or Fs, with asses and thighs out of this world. They had the perfect Coke-bottle figure. It was like I was in a got-damn world full of Charlene Campbells, and I hated it. I looked like a little boy compared to them, and they made sure they made me feel like it every time that I even attempted to twerk.

  “Babe, we gotta shower. Don’t you have to get to dance rehearsal?” Aaron pulled up his boxers, then held my hand, dragging me along with him toward the steps.

  I whined. I sure as hell didn’t feel like leaving him that day. I had spent damn near six months away from him. Basketball season had just ended in April, and I had just gotten my baby back. There were nights that I’d cry myself to sleep, missing him. I’d sneak off on the weekends to be with him in Miami every now and then. He’d be so happy, so surprised to see me each time. He held me each time like he was afraid to let me go. As soon as his season ended, he didn’t go to training like a lot of players did; he was on the first flight to Atlanta. The next day, we were buying our first home together.

  I didn’t tell him that I had been in and out of the hospital a few times. Breathing was getting harder by the day, but it was manageable. I was taking all my medication, I was eating well, I made it to all of my appointments, but my heart still wasn’t right. I felt physically and mentally broken. I was hoping that Aaron being with me for the next two months or so would be all that I needed to get my heartbeat back on track. Being without him was hell. I missed him. I needed him. We had just really gotten to know each other, and we needed to make up for years of lost time.

  “Ugh, I don’t feel like dealing with those bitches today, bae!” I moped, following him into the bathroom. “Aaron, you haven’t seen these big booty Judy bitches at the club. You’ll see today. They make me look like a little boy, I’m tellin’ you. They have asses, hips, thighs, titties, and shit poppin’ out everywhere!” I looked at Aaron, imagining those bitches poppin’ their asses in front of him just to piss me off. “As a matter of fact, maybe you need to stay your ass here.”

  Aaron laughed out loud as he reached into the shower to turn the water on. “Heaven, you know I’m not even checkin’ for that kinda trouble. You don’t have to question where my attention is, you know that.” He looked at me and grinned. Aaron searched my face before reaching for me, pulling me closer to him. “I’m loving this hair on you.”

  I looked at him, blushing a little. “Really? It’s not too much?” Anastasia had her hair stylist put this long-ass, past-my-booty Brazilian weave in my hair. I mean, it was cute, but it wasn’t mine.

  “Naw, it’s cute. I like it.” Aaron gently kissed my lips. “C’mon, shorty, we gotta shower before we’re late.”

  I sighed, getting into the shower. He was going to stop by my rehearsal for a little while and then he was off to a business meeting downtown. Even on his vacation, my baby was busy. I needed more time with him. Our brief encounters weren’t enough. We played phone tag the entire time that he was away. Ashton even had a hard time trying to get up with him for Alisha’s funeral as well. Aaron was a busy man. As much as he wanted me, he couldn’t really give me the time that I needed. And it hurt. I needed him, more of him.

  * * *

  “No, no, no!” Anastasia shouted at me at dance rehearsals. “This is not the way I taught you this shit, Ne’Vaeh! Vinnie, start the record over. C’mon, boo, we got a show to do in four days, and you still can’t get it right!” The deejay repeated ‘Drankin’ Patna’ over the loudspeakers. “Jackie-O, 24-K, Deep Throated, Krystal, show her how we do this shit.”

  I sighed, rolling my eyes, embarrassed even, as I backed away and stood back against the mirrors of her dance studio down at Crunk Shakers. She was driving me hard as hell that day, and I knew it was because Aaron was there. He didn’t like the way Anastasia was talking to me, but he kept his cool for that moment anyway. He sat on a stool, in the corner of the studio, watching. He’d seen enough strippers in his time. Anastasia’s hoes were bad, but not bad enough to impress him. Aaron knew how uncomfortable they made me, which is why he s
tayed as long as he did. The fact that they made me feel insecure didn’t rub him the right way. I really loved how our thoughts were always in sync.

  Niggas were lined up at the door, drooling, watching those girls pop, twerk, and drop it. Like I told my girlfriend, Laysha, back at Howard University, I wasn’t about that singing life. I tried to be, but it just wasn’t me. Anastasia promised me that no one would try and change me, but from the moment I stepped foot in Passion Productions, her image consultant was all over me. They changed my hair, changed my style of dress, changed the way I ate, changed the way I talked, even tried to change the way I laughed. They even had the nerve to suggest breast augmentation and muscle enhancer injections for my ass. Of course, when I told Aaron what they tried to do to me, he was pissed. He loves me just the way that I am and expected those muthafuckas to do the same.

  I stood there, watching the girls gyrating. My heart beat hard in my chest, and sweat beads outlined my hairline. I felt lightheaded. The room started spinning under my feet. Aaron stood from his seat as he saw me slide from the wall and onto the floor. He made his way over to me as the Anastasia signaled the deejay to stop the music. She rushed over to me, but Aaron pushed her away. She placed her hands on her hips as Aaron helped me off the floor.

  “Sweetie, are you okay?” Anastasia reached for my damp face.

  Aaron pushed her away again, security moving closer. “Hell naw, she ain’t okay! You been workin’ her like a slave all muthafuckin’ morning! How many times do you want her to do the same fuckin’ dance? She did it fine the first ten times you made her do the shit!”

  Anastasia was pissed, but she remained calm. “You need to lower your tone. This is the way we’ve been doing this shit since she moved here.” She watched as Aaron unstrapped my heels, sliding them off of my feet. “She just needs some water. Someone get Ne’Vaeh some water!”