by Love Belvin
“Oh, wow! Really?” I more or less stated rather than asked.
Clearly, Trent Bailey was without beard. He’d cut it two seasons ago only to grow it right back.
“Yup.” Jade licked her lips and took a swig of her liquor. “And he’s been in the dog house since.”
“A dog house you creep into errrr night,” Trent joked and I spit out a cackle.
His brawny arm circled her tiny waist and he kissed her neck. “I’m just messing with you.”
“Mmmmhmmm…” She playfully rolled her eyes again.
From my peripheral, I could sense heavy eyes on me. I glanced toward my left and saw a guy that had been ogling me since I walked in, gaping again with a clever smile.
“So, how long are you keeping it off this time, TB?”
He sat back on the sofa with a hard sigh. His hand went to scratch again. “I ‘on’t know. Been thinking about it.”
“What?” Jade whipped her neck his way. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
Ignoring her invitation to battle, Trent began to rub her back while staring ahead. “There’s nothing wrong with change. I’m just switching it up.”
“And you can switch right back to the beard,” Jade pushed.
“So you’re a lifetime member of the beard gang fan club?” I asked her, teasing.
“No. Just of this guy’s. When I met him, he had a wild beard, trying to hide from the world. I managed to break down walls no one else could, so I have a special affinity to his facial mask. It makes him look handsomely mysterious. And sensual.” Jade’s eyes rolled to the back of her head while her lips were parted. “God, this man had me wound so tight until he finally broke!” Her head swung around and back for dramatic affect.
My head fell back as I howled. These two were more colorful outside of church. I’d hung out with them a couple of times before and each time I learned something new about their relationship.
“Jade…” Trent warned as he covered his face.
Jade grabbed her glass again and tossed back what was left. “What? It’s true. I was sick with need and you knew it.”
Trent’s affected grin was the most adorable. I could tell two things in that moment: he was uncomfortable and he dared not refute her claim.
“Hey, guys!” That chirp caught my attention. Mel, Eli Richardson’s wife, stood holding a tray with one arm. Her smile was as charming as ever. “I was trying to make it over here before they were clear gone, but I guess you guys are going to have to wait for the next batch of Richardson Punch to be made.”
“What’s that?” Trent asked.
“My cocktail.” Mel lifted a brow and one side of her mouth. “It ain’t for the faint of heart so don’t sleep on it thinking it’s a girlie drink.”
Trent kicked out his leg and sighed playfully. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
I swallowed the last of my wine. “I don’t know about that, Trent. Looks like my girl, Jade, here would be the better judge.” I winked.
Trent and Jade laughed as I stood.
“Mel, could you show me to the restroom?”
“Sure, but I thought you were standing to help out with the next round.” Mel had a saucy sense of humor.
She didn’t come into the front office often, but when she did, her energy was always on ten. It made me wonder if that was her “wife of the boss” face or her natural vibe.
I smiled. “Bathroom first. Bartender right after.”
She snickered at that. “Come on, girl. I’ll be back, Baileys!”
Mel led me out of the festive sunroom where some had gathered, but there were folks all over. I couldn’t begin to estimate how many people were here at Eli’s “Welcome to the Season” bash. Bodies spilled from the back of the mansion out to the deck that was heated by tiki torches. There was a deejay out there spinning records that bled from the speakers all throughout the rear interior of the place. Red jacket servers made rounds with all types of food. Traveling through the house behind the host allowed me to appreciate the size and plush décor of the place.
“Here you go!” Mel swung her arm to the ajar door along the dark mahogany raised panel wall. “I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done. That’s straight ahead to your right, the first door on your right there.” She pointed before taking off.
I stepped into the bathroom to handle my business. I was on my second glass of wine and my bladder had grown sensitive at this point. After washing my hands and checking my makeup, I sent Mandee a text to check in. Stepping into the hall, I hit send and bumped into a plank of muscles. My phone fumbled in my hand then fell to the floor.
“Shit…” I heard mumbled over me as I reached for my cell.
Quickly examining it, I was relieved to see it uncracked and still lighting properly.
“My bad, baby girl. I hope it’s okay,” that voice sounded again, pricking my nerves.
Finally, I peered up and found those eyes that had been practically drilling me since I entered the Richardsons’ gates. There was a perceptible flip in his pupils. His expression turned hooded, but not with natural propensity. It was forced. Practiced.
That’s when I realized the derivation of my anxiety from being here. I hadn’t been out socially in years—three to be exact. And the last time I was among people of this caliber, at an event, it was with Jimmy. I had no idea who I was anymore. Was I single? Engaged? Spoken for? I knew what my heart said but what was the label hanging from my forehead for guys like this one to see?
“Yeah.” I blinked excessively, mentally stuck. “It’s fine. Thanks.” I turned to leave, but he grabbed me by the wrist.
“Hey…that’s not all I want.”
“Huhn?”
“I came looking for you to introduce myself.” He proffered his palm. “I’m Terrance. Grant, that is.” His smile was corny but his teeth straight and white. “I’m a wide receiver.”
The blinking wouldn’t stop. This time it was because my brain began to think. I’d heard of Terrance Grant. He’d been having a time with a few guys on the team last season. I didn’t know the details behind it, but it had spilled into the media and the big wigs didn’t like it. And to think, it had been him checking me out all this time.
“Nice to meet you, Terrance.” I nodded like dork. “I’m Parker.”
This was awkward already. Mel was waiting on me and I was ready to go.
“Well, Ms. Parker, I think you’re beautiful.” His smile wouldn’t fade. “And if it isn’t too much, I’d like to call you sometimes. Maybe even send you ‘Women Crush Wednesday’ pix throughout the week.”
My forehead lifted. “Of who?”
He chuckled, eyes swiping the area behind me as he switched stances. “If I’m sending WCW pix, it would only be of the one I’m crushing on. The woman I’m sending them to.”
My eyes fell as I snorted. I didn’t have a lot of time. I had to quickly decide if I would give him my number or use more time to come up with a polite reason as to why I couldn’t.
I unlocked my phone and tapped my way to the contacts app. “I’ll exchange numbers if you agree to me sending you my ‘Man Crush Mondays.’ And you can’t get offended if they aren’t always photos of you.”
The gleam in his eyes faded as they locked on me for countless seconds but his grin remained. His lips pouted then eyes fell as he looked down to take my phone.
“Alright. But I have to warn you, it’ll be my sole mission to be your only MCM on every day.”
“How old are you?” I quizzed.
His focused remained on my phone. “Twenty-nine.”
“You have a girlfriend, wife, fiancée or baby’s mother you kiss goodnight?” I mean…those were the appropriate questions.
He handed me back the phone when done. “I haven’t had the fortune of kissing my kids goodnight in three years so ain’t no way I’m kissing their mother. No wife, girlfriend or fiancée either. Just on the hunt for a WCW.”
For the first time, I smiled with Terrance.
“See you around.” I turned to head toward the kitchen.
Hopefully he would stop making me the object of his gaping now that he at least had my number. Just as I was nearing the door Mel directed me to, she appeared. Her steps were halted immediately when we met eyes.
“Oh!” She laughed. “I thought you got lost. Come on. I got everything laid out for us.”
And she did. Stretched over a mile long island in the center of her lavish kitchen were dozens of coupe cut martini glasses with the Kings’ logo engraved into them. The style was subtle, even with the colored logo, yet elegant. What a fine touch by the missus. Next to them were bottles of citrus-forward gin, sliced cucumbers and limes, fresh chopped basil, and purple peppercorn.
“Hey, Nate!” I greeted my boss, Eli Richardson’s, son.
Nate was also an executive in the front office and brother of Cole Richardson, Jordan Johnson’s fiancée. I saw him often at work and even covered for his assistant several times over the years. He was lining up the last of the chic martini glasses.
He smiled, greeting me in return then whispered, “Don’t let her work you too much.”
I snickered as he finished his task and took off quietly and speedily.
The kitchen was hyperactive with serving staff running in and out with foods, and cooks going between the stove and fridge. Alongside Mel and one her girlfriends, I grinded, mixed, pureed, and splashed until we filled sixty glasses and loaded them onto festive trays to be served to guests.
“I think this is the fanciest martini I’ve ever made,” I marveled out loud.
“Wait till you taste it.” Mel filled a glass with the leftovers from one of the many pitchers and pushed it my way.
I swallowed back one gulp then another. My god, the concoction was light and burst with hidden flavors on my tongue.
“Good god, this is the bomb!” I could hardly breath while declaring.
The girls laughed from across the counter. From my peripheral, I could see Eli strolling toward them. His arm immediately went around Mel’s waist and he kissed her affectionately as Trent did Jade earlier.
“Be careful, Parker. That’s how she got a proposal from me and a baby in my advanced age,” Eli warned with flirtatious humor as his nose grazed the side of her face.
If I were light enough, the busy kitchen would see my blush. My boss had effectively stunned me into silence. Mel was able to wiggle from Eli’s hold and we each grabbed trays topped with martini glasses. I was last in line to file out of the kitchen, thankful I chose a crossbody purse to wear tonight. We passed through the vibrant sunroom first and while Mel ventured left, her girlfriend remained straight ahead for outside. I decided to go right. The place was huge and folks were grabbing drinks from my tray almost right away.
I was threading through the sea of bodies, feeling the alcohol hit my blood stream and giggling with light delirium when my feet stopped. My lungs filled and nostrils flared at the sight ahead. Sherry. Why was she here? Her presence was just as jarring as the guy she was speaking to.
He stood against the wall, one big hand holding an unlit cigar and a brandy glass. But his posture didn’t fit the accessories. His stance was built with confidence and extremely relaxed. One leg, clad in denim, was hiked behind him while the other foot rested on the floor. He was a warm hue of russet with a red undertone and…defined shoulders expansive in distance and globular. His waist was narrow and hidden under a Rubber Soles -shirt. His chin was toward his chest as his eyes peered under the rim of the Connecticut Kings baseball cap sitting low on his head, but I could catch those eyes. They weren’t on Sherry, who practically stood in our line of sight. His attention wasn’t on her as he held a phone to his ear while the other held the glass and cigar. Was he on a call?
His mouth moved intermittently. His lips… Goddamn, they were full and perverse…wicked. I couldn’t explain how I knew this, but in that fleeting moment, I couldn’t be convinced otherwise. This… This! It was now clear to me why I didn’t get out much. It had taken years, but it happened. I’d come across a man I found grossly attractive. This wasn’t good. Neither was his inconspicuous gaze on me. It was entrancing.
One of those eyes winked at me.
I felt my bottom lip hanging.
Goddamn sinful.
~Three
I saw her before she saw me. She could be no more than five feet tall with cinnamon brown skin that looked like it was baked to the perfect shade.
And the weirdest shit happened. As she pranced around the room in sexy ass booted heels with her black toenails out—a long fitted green skirt draping around her hips and exposing her right thigh when she put that one forward, a black tank that laid out the contour of her fucking tits, and a short blue jean jacket revealing her dope ass, baby-making shape—I’d been watching. She wore a tweed newsboy cap that gave her a little swag. Jeremy was in my ear, going on and on about two store openings and some old, corny ass broad was in my face, yapping about fundraising. But beyond all that—no lie—I slipped into some kind of trance where I saw…us. Me and this girl smiling as she strutted with a tray full of drinks.
In the first vision I caught, we were on a private plane kissing, tonguing each other down. Then we were on an exotic island, holding hands as we jumped from a ledge into serene blue waters. Next we were on a helicopter with me wrapped around her, starring down the black mouth of a volcano. A volcano! I ain’t never been to see no goddamn volcano. In another flash, we were on a glossy cobblestone road in France. I was bent down on one knee, fixing the buckle of one of her high heeled shoes. Seconds later, in the next vision we were on our backs in the St. Anton am Arlberg snow, laughing our asses off about the fall we’d just taken together. The last was us at Madame Tussauds London, posing next to the newly added wax figure of Ameerah, the black cellist.
“I can give you my number, but I think if you give me yours it would be better. I can make sure you get the information right away,” the lady in front of me with the dark ass penciled in eyebrows pushed.
The fuck?
I’d been to Paris once, about a year ago, but I only knew about the Austrian village in the Tyrolean Alps since last week when StentRo posted a pic of him and his wife on IG. That aside, why the hell did I just take that head trip like that? That had never happened to me. I felt a little dazed.
“Rut,” Jeremy called into my ear. “You there, Rut?”
My eyes blinked away the fog, but I didn’t lose sight of her. She stopped in her tracks, gripping the tray with her tiny fingers. Why? She stood there, eyes bouncing between me and the lady smiling in my face.
“Yeah, Jeremy,” I finally answered after what I knew was an eternity. “Make the deal. And make sure that nigga cut the check for no less than three hun’ned K.” I kept my voice low and eyes on the deer ahead of me caught in my headlights. “They may be coming to the underdogs, something unprecedented, but a lot of the appeal is they ain’t paying us what they would a major. Don’t get shit twisted.”
When her eyes rolled down from my head to the one foot I stood on and rolled back up to my mouth, I winked at her. She liked what she saw and that was cute. That’s when her jaw dropped and she looked like she’d seen a damn ghost. Right after that, she took off.
“Alright,” Jeremy was finally ready to drop the call. “Don’t forget to call me first thing in the morning.”
“You got it, playa.” I was ready to hang up.
And I did, dropping my phone in my pocket right after.
“Maybe we can find a private room to speak freely,” the broad in front of me, who had to be close forty suggested, licking her lips.
When my eyes fell to her, she giggled…hard. Her chest lifted and hand brushed against it. I peeped the wedding band on her left hand she kept low. That quickly, I was irritated. She needed to go away.
Trouble…
Something I didn’t need. I came tonight to show my face and nothing more.
I pushed from the wall. “I’m signed to Love In A
ction. You can hit them up for everything you need.”
I walked off, not giving a fuck about her feelings. Females could be trifling as fuck. Nobody was beat for a thirsty one like her. She didn’t even have game.
“Rut!” I heard call from behind me.
When I turned over my shoulder and recognized him, I forced a smile.
“Eli!” I turned completely to face him. “How are you, sir?”
This was it. This was why I came. Now Fats wouldn’t be the only person telling Divine I came to this “work” event.
“Sir?” He scoffed, chin snapping back before he gave me dap. “Don’t remind me of my age in my own home,” he joked.
I did the laughing thing with him, just not too hard.
“Thanks for the invite.” My eyes circled around the room. “This shit is proper.”
“The soiree or my home?”
My tone was calm when I answered, “Both.”
I didn’t really know Eli but didn’t want to give the impression I was a sucker, so I kept the humor to a minimum.
“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it. It’s my way of welcoming in new family like yourself and greeting the ones returning for the season. Last season was exceptional and my expectation is no less for this one.”
It was a silent warning. Nothing out of pocket, but definitely a clear one.
“It’s my plan to be a part of that.” I offered my hand to close this awkward conversation. “I have a lot to prove to the organization. Looking forward to doing it.”
His face loosened as he shook my hand. I gave a bow, wrapping up this chat before stepping off. I’d be damned if I didn’t lose the chick holding the tray. Not that I was pressed. Like I said, this was just a business function.
“Anybody see Parker?” Eli’s wife came out of nowhere looking to be in a rush as she held a tray in one hand and cell in the other. “I think this is her phone. She left it in the kitchen earlier when she helped me with the last round of drinks.”
“I think I saw her headed out to the balcony a few minutes ago.” Eli pointed in the direction I was going.
My quick thinking never failed me. “Shawtie with the tweed newsboy cap?” My brain coughed. “Parker?” I added the name she just gave for familiarity.
