“Naw, she didn’t come. Hey, I’ma just cut to the chase. No sense in bullshitting. How much for me and Rourke?”
“How much for what?” I asked, with a grin on my face. Mike was a clown. I remembered that from his party, so I figured this was going to be a dig at Nolan. Like, Nolan was paying me to pretend to be his girl or something.
“To fuck,” Rourke spoke up. “When you’re done with Nole, I mean. He got you all night?”
“Naw, he been with her for a minute now. Guess he’s really enjoying her,” Mike informed him.
“I bet you expensive as hell!” Rourke damn near yelled.
“Sho’ you right! You gotta pay top dollar to even glance at the black girls from what I hear,” Mike agreed.
“What the fuck are y’all talking about?” I asked, my hands balling into fists. “You think I’m some damn hooker?!”
“I mean, you are with Nole, so…”
“I ain’t no got-damn hooker, and if I did sell pussy, I wouldn’t sell it to you two baby dick-having motherfuckers! I can’t believe this shit!”
If they had a rebuttal, I didn’t hear it because I turned on my heels and stomped back to our table and right in front of Jo and Big South, hissed, “Nolan, I’m ready to go.”
“Ready to go? The party just started, baby,” Nolan said, with a confused look on his face. “I thought you were looking forward to this.”
“Fuck it. I’ll take a Lyft,” I mumbled, as I grabbed my purse from the table.
“Bridge, what happened?” Jo asked knowingly.
“Nothing, except Nolan’s friends seem to think I’m a fucking prostitute. Two of them just tried to pay me to fuck them, to fuck both of them, at the same time, because evidently that’s how Nolan gets down.”
“What?!” Nolan, Jo, and South all shrieked at the same time.
“Who the fuck said that?!” Nolan yelled, hopping up from his seat.
“Who said you pay for pussy?” I asked. “Mike and Rourke.”
Nolan took off before I could say another word, followed by South, and I took that opportunity to make my exit with Jo on my heels.
“Bridge, wait!”
With my head in my phone, trying to secure a ride, I kept walking, only stopping once I was outside and could finally breathe again. It’d felt like steam was encasing my face, thick steam. And my heart was galloping out of control.
“Bridgette!” Jo called, finally catching up with me. “Damn, I just had a baby! You gotta slow down.” Chink was right behind her, struggling to keep up.
“I’m fine, Jo. Go back inside.”
“No, you’re not. You look like you’re about to fuck someone up. Come back inside. Let me and Everett take you home.”
“No, I’m good.”
“What’s going on?! Whose ass we need to kick?!” Sage asked, as she hurried toward us. “I saw you run up outta there like you had an appointment to whoop a bitch!”
“Nothing is going on other than Nolan got his friends thinking they can pay me for pussy,” I informed her.
“What?! Nolan? Nerdy-ass looking Nolan? I mean he fine, but them suits and slacks…Nolan?! For real?”
“Yes, Sage. Fucking Nolan! See, that’s what I get for caring about a motherfucker. I let this shit move too fast. I done damn near moved in with this asshole. Fuck me!”
“Bridgette!” That was Nolan and my cue to start walking, because fuck this and him.
As I started walking to, I don’t know, somewhere, I said, “Go fuck yourself, Nolan, fuck your whole self!”
“You just gonna run off without letting me explain? That’s fucked up!”
I kept walking. “So is having someone ask how much I charge to let them fuck! What kind of shit is that?”
“The kind of shit that got them kicked out of my club and my life and woulda got their asses kicked if Ev hadn’t stopped me.”
Shaking my head, I kept walking. “Whatever.”
“Bridgette, got-dammit, stop and let me explain this shit!”
There was that take-charge director voice again, the one that made my coochie cream, and as bad as I wanted to defy it, I couldn’t. At least not totally. I turned to face him, arched an eyebrow, and assented. “Fine, you can explain while you take me home, to my place.”
“Thank you,” he said, as he tried to cup my elbow.
I snatched away from him. “Don’t touch me.”
He sighed. “All right, baby. Just come on.”
“First, let me say I’m sorry Mike and Rourke came at you like that. They’ll be dealt with.”
I kept my eyes focused on the scene outside his windshield. We were on my complex’s parking lot, Nolan having decided to wait until we got there to begin his little explanation. I didn’t respond, because it didn’t take much for me to shut down, a side effect of my fucked-up childhood, and I was in deep shut-down mode at that moment.
“Second, I’ve never paid a woman for sex in my life.”
“Humph,” I said.
“Baby, I haven’t!”
“So they made that shit up, Nolan? Really?” Yeah, I’d turned the power back on in response to the stupid shit he was saying.
“They’re talking about The Gallery, but they got shit all twisted up. They could never get in there so they’re making assumptions about how it works.”
I twisted around in my seat and narrowed my eyes at him. “What the hell are you talking about? What damn gallery? And what does an art gallery have to do with—”
“It’s not an art gallery, it’s a club. An exclusive club where people who can afford membership go to find women.”
She stared at me, eyes wide as she shook her head. “A-a brothel?”
“No, no, not a brothel. A club, like a lodge or something like that. You pay for access to the women, but access doesn’t guarantee sex.”
“What kind of women?”
“All kinds of women. Foreign women.”
“Russian women?”
“Yes.”
“That’s how you met the women you used to date? At this club?”
“Yes.”
“You had sex with these women, right?”
“I went on dates with them, spent time with them, and yeah…I had sex with them, but I never gave money to any of them.”
“That’s how brothels work, Nolan. You pay the pimp or madam, not the hooker.”
“They’re not hookers! It’s not a brothel! It-it’s a dating service, a high-end dating service. People go there to match up with someone they can spend time with, maybe even marry.”
“But people like your asshole friends think it’s a brothel.”
“They—yeah, I guess they do.”
“Did you pass these women around to your friends or something? What made them think they could have me? They think I’m from this gallery?”
“I guess they assumed I found you there, but no…I didn’t pass anyone around. They used to ask me about some of the women I was with after I stopped seeing them, tell me how they wanted them, and I’d tell them to go for it because I didn’t care...and I didn’t, but I also knew they didn’t have the bank account to entertain them.”
“When’s the last time you were at The Gallery?”
“A couple of weeks before we started filming.”
“When’s the last time you were with a woman other than me?”
“Same amount of time, a couple of weeks before we started filming.”
We were both quiet as I guess she tried to absorb what I’d told her and I tried to figure out how to hold onto her.
Finally, I said, “Look, I’m not proud of this, Bridgette, and I’ve done a lot of fucked-up things, but I’ve never paid for pussy, at least not directly, and I never gave Mike and Rourke the impression that you were a prostitute. I care about you and I don’t want what we have to end, so say the word. Tell me what I need to do to make this right.”
Her eyes searched the windshield, then locked with mine. “Do you still belong to this…club?”<
br />
“Well, yeah. Membership dues are paid annually. I’m paid up until next January, but I’ll cancel my membership. I don’t need it anymore.”
“Take me there.”
“What?”
“Take me to The Gallery. I want to see it.”
“Uh, Bridge—”
“Can you bring guests?”
“Yeah…”
“Then let’s go. Now.”
“And do what?”
“Do you want me, Nolan?”
“You know I do.”
“Then take me there. Otherwise, I’m climbing out of this car and out of your damn life.”
I scratched my forehead. “We can’t just pop up. There are rules. I’d need to call and let them know I’m coming.”
“Then call.”
I stared at her, could see that she was serious, and then grabbed my phone from its holder on the dashboard, and made the call.
*****
Once upon a time, the familiarity of the sights, sounds, and smells of that place excited me. But this time, it felt wrong and awkward as hell to be stepping through the big metal door with Bridgette by my side.
“I have passed by this building a million times. I thought it was just some random warehouse, not…this,” Brigette said, her eyes inspecting the dark entryway.
I didn’t respond, because the only thought in my mind was of grabbing her hand and leaving, but if we left, I might lose her. Shit, if we stayed, I might lose her. I couldn’t win.
“McClain! Glad you actually made it this time. And with a lovely guest,” Heather, a tall, waifish blond, greeted me and then turned her attention to Bridgette. “I’m Heather, your hostess, and I’d better get you tagged right now before someone tries to steal you from McClain here.”
“Tagged?” Bridgette said, her eyes jumping from Heather to me. “What the hell?”
Before I could explain, Heather lifted the bright orange bracelet. “With this on your arm, everyone will know you’re a guest and not, um, available.”
“Where’s his? He ain’t available either,” Bridgette asked, a hand on her hip.
“Uh, there are no males to choose from here, baby. Only women,” I explained.
“Yes, the men are at The Exhibition. I can get you in touch with their hostess if you’re interested in a membership,” Heather directed at Bridgette.
I was just about to say, “Hell no she ain’t interested,” but Bridgette beat me to it.
“Naw, I’m good. No exhibitions for me,” she muttered, with her lips curled in a snarl.
I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t going to end up alone by the time this night was over as we followed Heather to my regular room where two armchairs, a small table, a glass of champagne, and two glasses were the only things occupying the small space other than the black-curtain covering one wall and a control panel on another wall. But my positive thoughts weren’t reaching my heart. This was bad, and I almost felt like throwing the hell up.
After we’d taken our seats and Heather had left, I asked, “You want some champagne?” because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
She gave me a look, and I mumbled, “Never mind.”
“So now what?” she queried.
I sighed. “Baby, can we please—”
“No. Now what happens?”
I closed my eyes for a second, then stood and pressed a button on the control panel. The curtains before us separated to reveal a brunette sitting on the other side of the glass at her own table, sipping her own champagne. She smiled at us and nodded.
“She can see us?” Bridgette whispered.
“Yeah, she can see us, but she can’t hear us.”
“Damn, that’s a nice dress she got on,” Bridgette said, then shook her head. “So we just sit here and stare at each other?”
“No…if-usually, like before you, if I liked what I saw and wanted to get to know her, I’d use the intercom to invite her to join me.”
Her eyes searched the room until they bumped into the intercom integrated with the control panel. “And if you didn’t want to get to know them?”
I’d hit the button and close the curtain and she’d know to leave. Then another woman would take her place. I’d wait a few minutes and open the curtains again.”
“So, you hold all the power? Men hold all the power here?”
“No, baby. You’re sitting on this side of the window, too. Right now, you got just as much power as I do.”
Her eyes were glued to me for a full three or four minutes, then she covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God, Nolan. This is just…”
“Wrong. I know. I realize that now. Nothing about this feels right anymore.”
“It’s prostitution. No matter how you try to dress it up, it’s prostitution. These women are being pimped!”
“Baby…I’m sorry, but this is my past, an embarrassing past. I don’t do this anymore.”
“You really ain’t shit, you know that? You paying to belong to this club is tantamount to you paying for pussy. You. Ain’t. Shit!” she shouted.
“I know I’m not. I’m fucked up! This is fucked up, but this is my damn truth. It’s fucking pathetic and I know it. The smartest McClain is really the dumbest McClain. I’d come here, pick a woman, mess with her for a while, and move on to the next. Always looking, searching for something I was only gonna find in you. I know that now. What I needed, what I always wanted, is you. I care about you, baby, have damn near since the day I met you. I have wanted you for just as long and-and shit, now that I got you, I don’t wanna lose you. I am sorry, Bridgette. I am. You’re right. I was basically paying for pussy, but I never told anyone I found you here. I would never do that. I respect you. I don’t wanna do anything but protect you. Hell, I think I love you. Never been in love before, but that’s gotta be what this is, because I think I might die if I lose you, and I’m not playing. My fucking heart hurts right now just from the possibility of losing you.”
We were both silent for a couple of minutes, until she said, “Close the got-damn curtain.”
Her voice told me that pouring my heart out had no impact on her, so I basically stood and shuffled over to the wall, hit the button, and when I turned around, found that Bridgette was on her feet right behind me, glaring at me.
“Baby, please—” I started, but she cut me off.
“Shut. Up,” she ordered, then dropped to a squat in front of me. The next thing I knew, she was unfastening my belt and unzipping my pants and pulling them and my underwear down and putting me in her mouth.
“Wait-what-shit!” I stammered, happy and scared and hard as a damn rock all at the same time. “Baby—”
Popping me out of her mouth, she said, “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” Then she went back to work.
“Got-damnnnn! My bad, baby!”
“One more word and I’ma stop.”
I quickly glued my mouth shut and tried not to fall, because…shit!
She slurped and sucked, swirling her tongue around me and making my damn legs vibrate. It didn’t take me thirty minutes. Shit, I don’t even think it took five minutes for me to explode, and as I stood there slumped against the wall, trying to catch my breath and waiting for the feeling to return to my legs, she hopped to her feet and swiped at her mouth.
“I don’t know what you’re gonna have to do, because it seems that all of your friends are ass wipes—Lazarus, Mike, Rourke—but better not another friend of yours call me a whore. I can stand being called a bitch before I can take being called a whore, but they better not call me a bitch, either,” she said.
I nodded, reaching down to pull my underwear back up. “It’ll never happen again. I promise.”
“And if you ever step foot in here again, it’s over between us.”
“I won’t.”
“When we leave this room, you’re cancelling your membership. Tonight.”
“No problem.”
“One last thing.”
“Anything.�
�
“Where are the black women? They don’t have any black women here?”
“Upstairs. Top floor.”
“Why didn’t you ever get with them? Didn’t you say all the women here are foreign? Why didn’t you want a foreign sister?”
“Couldn’t afford it. You gotta pay top dollar to get up there. Black and Latino women, or exotic women as they’re labeled, are the most expensive to gain access to.”
“Well, I can’t believe that, the way folks shit on us brown women.”
“That might be true outside these walls, but in here? Not so. The black women here come from famous lineages, like Zulu and Yoruban women. Women from purely African bloodlines. There are some men who are willing to pay a lot for a woman who’s purely African. I heard one guy say sleeping with one of those women was like sleeping with the cradle of the earth. To men like him, Russian women and any other white women, are a dime a dozen. That’s why she tagged you so quickly, so you wouldn’t get attacked down here and then I’d have to go to jail for fucking some of these thirsty men—or women—up.”
“So, the other club members are in rooms like these?”
“Yeah.”
“This is some sick shit.”
“I know. I…I’m ashamed as hell right now. And I just…”
“But you having all this power here and telling me I had the same power kinda turned me on, so that’s why I did what I just did.”
“Oh…”
“Nolan, listen.” She sighed, moving closer to me and leaning against my body. “You said this is your past and I believe you. Your friends blindsided me with that mess, and I just…I don’t want to be hurt or made a fool of, because I care about you, too.”
“Then believe that you’re the reason I stopped coming here and you’re the reason I’m never coming back. Trust me.”
“I do. Just don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t, baby.”
20
A week had passed since Mike and Rourke almost messed my world completely up, and I’d been spending every second I wasn’t in the editing bay with Danny Steele, an editing genius who I knew from film school, with Bridgette—holding her, laughing with her, being inside her.
Let Me Show You (McClain Brothers Book 3) Page 11
