Let Me Show You (McClain Brothers Book 3)

by Alexandria House

  “It’s a lot, I know. Having second thoughts about me moving in?” I hadn’t noticed she’d stopped organizing her makeup on the counter and was looking at me.

  “Bridge, you moved in months ago, right after Montana. Did you forget about that?”

  “You know what I mean. Before, if anything went wrong, you could kick me out knowing I had an apartment to go back to. Now that I’ve given my apartment up and made this my official address, seems like things are—I don’t know—heavy, serious.”

  “So, you weren’t serious about us before now?”

  “You know I was. I’m just…I know this is a lot of shit, okay? You probably want me to get rid of some of it. Hell, I need to get rid of some of it…”

  “Naw, it’s fine, baby. If you need it, keep it. Shit, if you want it, keep it. Whatever makes you happy.”

  “Thanks, Nole,” she said, stepping over a box to give me a kiss.

  While she organized what looked like a thousand tubes of lipstick, I tilted my head to the side, inspecting the contents of a box sitting on the floor. “I didn’t know you collected eggs.”

  “I don’t,” she said, without turning around.

  I picked up a green one. It was cool to the touch, made of some kind of stone. “Well, you got like ten of them in this box, different sizes, too.”

  She finally turned to look at me. “Oh, those! Those are yoni eggs. I don’t collect them. I use them. I need to find a special place for those in here.”

  “Use them for what?”

  “To strengthen the muscles in my…yoni.”

  I frowned, setting the green one down and picking up the pink one. “How?”

  “By putting it inside me.”

  “You put these…this some kind of little dildo or something?”

  “No, you see that long, wand-shaped stone? It’s called a yoni wand and it’s a sort of dildo or can be used as one, at least. I just told you the eggs are used to strengthen the yoni muscles and they have other benefits, too.”

  “Really? Like what?”

  “Uh…” She reached over and took the pink egg from me. “They help increase lubrication—make that thang real juicy—they heighten sexual desire, make orgasms more intense, help you to be better able to have vaginal orgasms, tighten the vajayjay—”

  “Got damn, that explains it! That motherfucker is like a vice grip!”

  “Wow, okay.”

  “No, really! Haven’t you noticed I can only go like twenty-five minutes now? That’s why!”

  “Yeah, I actually did notice that…”

  “How often do you use these?” I asked.

  “Not that often since we’ve been together. You won’t give my poor vagina a long enough break for me to use them.”

  “Shit, I can’t. Hey, why do they come in different sizes?”

  “Um, the goal with the yoni eggs is for you to use your muscles down there to hold the egg in place. The smaller the egg you’re able to hold, the stronger the muscles.”

  “And the tighter the pussy?”

  “Well, yeah, you could say that.”

  “I bet your ass can hold a damn microscopic one.”

  “I don’t know now that you been stretching me the hell out.”

  I grinned. “So, what do you do with these little rocks? You put them in you, too?”

  “No, baby, and they’re crystals, not rocks. They’re for coochie weight-lifting.”

  “Um, what?”

  She giggled. “Okay, you see this little hole that’s been drilled into the end of the egg?”

  I nodded.

  “I loop a string through it and tie a pouch to the end of the string, then I put the egg inside me, leave the pouch dangling outside of me, and put the crystals in it. I squeeze my muscles down there to hold the egg in place with the added weight of the crystals and then release it. I do some reps for like fifteen minutes and then take it out.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah, I know it’s weird, but it works. It amplifies what the yoni egg does alone.”

  “No, I know it works. I meant shit, that turns me on. Let’s fuck.”

  “How you gonna say, ‘let’s fuck,’ like I’m some THOT off the street?”

  “My bad, baby. I just…”

  “Take your damn clothes off and lay your ass down so I can be on top and we can be done in time for me to get ready for dinner,” she said, leaving the bathroom.

  As I followed her to the bed, I said, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And don’t forget to smack my thighs while I’m riding you.”

  “When do I ever forget to do that?”

  I couldn’t believe I’d agreed to doing this. It was guaranteed to be a disaster, but I’d let Bridgette talk me into it, because shit, she could talk me into just about anything.

  “It’s gonna be okay. You know that, right?” she asked, resting her hand on my knee.

  I shifted on the sofa and nodded. “Yeah.” Letting my eyes inspect her, I asked, “Why you wearing that?”

  She frowned as she looked down at the little black dress she had on. “What’s wrong with this?”

  “It’s short, and you got on heels.”

  “You like for me to wear short dresses and heels. I’m tryna look nice for you.”

  “And Neil?”

  “No, for you, but do you want me to look raggedy in front of your brother? I would think you’d want me to look good.”

  “Not that good. He’s just coming over for dinner, not a damn cocktail party.”

  “You’re trippin’. What do you think is gonna happen? You think I’ma trade you in for Neil after what you just put on me?”

  “I did put it on you, didn’t I?”

  “Wow.”

  I shrugged. “Am I lying?”

  “Anyhow, you think I want him because he’s your twin or something?”

  I tilted my head to the side, taking her in, and then said, “Never mind. You’re way outta his league. He couldn’t handle you even if I gave his ass instructions.”

  “Um, thank you, I guess?”

  “You’re welcome. Look, I just don’t want him looking at you and shit. This?” I swept my finger up and down the front of her body. “All of this? It’s mine.”

  “Uh, I know that.”

  “Just making sure.”

  Rolling her eyes, she asked, “You want me to change, Nole? Would that make you feel better? I’ll change before I let you treat your brother like shit because you think he’s looking at me. I’m serious about wanting things to improve between you two.”

  I closed my eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry, baby. This whole dinner with Neil thing is fucking with me. Shit, I can’t believe he agreed to come when I asked.”

  “You told him you wanted the two of you to do better with each other, right?”

  “Yeah, but still, this is weird. Hell, I was shocked he answered my call at all.”

  “Well, maybe he wants to reconnect and mend things, too. Maybe all that needed to happen was for you to make the first move.”

  As she scooted closer to me and leaned against me, I wrapped an arm around her, and said, “Yeah, maybe.”

  “So, do you like working with South? I love working for Jo,” Bridgette said, carrying the conversation with Neil like she had been since we sat down to eat the Indian food she’d had delivered. He hadn’t had much to say and neither had I. I guess we were both feeling awkward being in the same space without tearing each other down.

  Neil shrugged. “It’s a’ight, I guess. Not exactly my dream job, but Ev ain’t gonna let me off the hook, so I gotta do what I gotta do.”

  “Yeah, Ev thinks he’s everybody’s daddy,” I chimed in, finally getting used to Neil being there, and seeing as he was my damn twin, it was pitiful that I had to adjust to his presence. Bridgette was right about the state of our relationship being sad.

  “And shit, we go along with it, because he was our daddy for so long,” Neil pointed out.

  “True, true. Remember tha
t time he tried to spank Leland for breaking a glass while Mama was at work?”

  Neil smiled. “Yeah, and Leland’s little ass took off running before Ev could even get his hands on a belt. Ev ran after him but ended up tripping over something in the front yard and hurting his ankle. Then he was really mad!”

  “But Leland was so damn fast! Ev still couldn’t catch him! Leland was Fastlane McClain even back then. What was he? Like four or five?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Ev kept our asses in line, though. Kept us out of trouble.”

  “Yeah, he did. Man, those were some good times. Shit was simple back then, you know?”

  “It sure was,” I agreed. “But life is good now. I ain’t got no complaints.” I reached across the table and grasped Bridgette’s hand as she smiled at me.

  “Aye, man…I know I was talking shit at the hospital, but I’m happy for you. I can tell she’s good for you,” Neil said, and I damn near fainted.

  “He’s good for me, too,” Bridgette said.

  “Y’all hold on to that. Ain’t nothing like having someone you love who loves you back. That shit is rare. Most of us never get it,” Neil shared, his eyes on his plate.

  “Man, if I could get and keep her? Your one is out there. Believe that,” I said.

  Neil shook his head. “I don’t know, man.”

  “She is, Neil. You just gotta be ready for her, be ready to be the man she needs. You know?”

  He looked up at me and gave me a slow nod. “Yeah, I see what you’re saying.”

  We finished dinner, had coffee instead of drinks since Neil had that little issue with alcohol, sat in the living room and chopped it up about everything from music to movies, and when he left a little before midnight, we shared a hug. While Bridgette and I stood in the front doorway and watched Neil back out of my driveway, I said, “Thank you for tonight, baby.”

  She kissed my cheek, and replied, “This was all you, Nole, and I’m so proud of you.”

  I slid my arm around her waist and squeezed her to me, closing my eyes and thanking God for creating this woman for me.

  24

  I had been interviewed so many times, I was just about interviewed out. The Floetic Lustice press junket was jam-packed, hectic, and demanding. I was tired, exhausted, but I wouldn’t have gotten off that ride if someone paid me a million dollars to. I loved every minute of being in makeup chairs and greenrooms. I loved doing cast interviews and solo interviews. I loved being on morning shows and web shows and radio shows. I loved the compliments about my performance and the offers that were pouring in for more movie roles, starring movie roles. But most of all, I loved that Nolan was there with me every step of the way. As the director, he was a part of some interviews, and the ones he wasn’t a part of, he still accompanied me to, hanging out in the greenroom or dressing room until I was done.

  Everything was falling into place in my life—my career was taking off so fast, I could barely keep up with it. For the first time in my life, I could see myself becoming someone’s wife, because if Nolan popped the question, I was going to scream YES! It didn’t matter to me that we’d only been together a few months. He loved me, and I loved him. I’d never known what that felt like until Nolan.

  Until now.

  And I never wanted to lose that feeling. I never wanted to lose him.

  *****

  My foot wouldn’t stop tapping in my Gucci pumps as I sat on the couch in the greenroom, staring at the selfie I’d posted on IG minutes earlier. Cocking my head to the side, I asked, “You think I need to get a boob job?”

  My eyes shifted to Nolan sitting beside me, who looked up from his own phone, and said, “What?”

  “A boob job. You think I need one?”

  “What, like implants?”

  I nodded.

  “Naw, baby. You’re perfect.”

  Grinning, I leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I’m glad you think so, but I think it would help me fill out my clothes better. I’m a solid C-cup, but I think my frame could handle some Ds.”

  Setting his phone down, he fixed his eyes on me. “Where is this coming from? I’ve never known you to be self-conscious about your body. You’ve gotta be the most confident woman I’ve ever known.”

  “I have issues with my booty, too.”

  “Now I know something’s wrong, because I have never seen anything as remarkable as your ass.”

  Now he really had me cheesing. “Really, Nole?”

  “Hell, yeah! What’s going on, baby? What’s wrong? You nervous about this interview?”

  I sighed and lowered my eyes to my lap. “Yeah, I am.”

  “Why? You’ve been on some big-time shows already. This show doesn’t even have as big an audience as some of the web shows you’ve been on.”

  “Yeah, but this show’s audience is known for roasting the guests. Have you ever read the comments on the Loretha Halter Show IG page, or the ones under the show snippets they post on YouTube? They’re brutal!”

  “Then don’t read the damn comments. Shit, fuck those trolls. I know you’re not going to let them make you miss out on an opportunity to get your shine on.”

  “Plus this show is known for showing horrible old pictures of the guests. I don’t know if I can take the embarrassment,” I continued, not responding to his encouragement.

  “Baby, look at me,” he said.

  I did.

  “You’re Bridgette-Motherfucking-Turner. You got this.”

  Reaching up and resting my hand on his cheek, I smiled. “I love you, you know that?”

  “I love you, too.”

  “I wish you were going out there with me.”

  “I can. Want me to talk to the producers?”

  I shook my head. “I’m on in a few minutes. I’ll be okay.”

  “I know you will.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting on Loretha’s orange couch, legs crossed, looking fierce in a mixed-print, floral and black, cold-shoulder Louis Vuitton dress and those Gucci heels, my shoulder-length hair up in a bun, and a ridiculous beat on my face courtesy of Sage. Yeah, I was finally able to track her down. Loretha was funny and friendly—as I knew she’d be—and I quickly relaxed in front of her and her studio audience as I fielded her questions about the movie, working with Honey Combs, and how fine Nyles Adams was in person.

  Then she turned to her audience, and said, “You know how we love surprises on this show, right?”

  The audience cheered and hooted in response.

  “What y’all know?” she responded, uttering her signature catchphrase with the crowd quickly answering her with, “Oh, we know!” as they always did.

  “Okay,” she continued, “We have a special guest who can’t wait to share the couch with Bridgette here. You ready, Bridgette?”

  With wide eyes, I shrugged and smiled. “I guess I better be.” I turned to watch as Nolan stepped onto the stage looking like four gourmet meals in his tan slacks and dark brown sweater, only it wasn’t Nolan being escorted onstage by one of the producers.

  It was my mother.

  25

  I leaned forward, my eyes on the monitor in the greenroom. Bridgette was killing this interview, just like she did all the others. She was a natural in front of any camera, and while I had to agree that the Loretha Halter Show was a little on the ratchet side, like it was the Love and Hip Hop of talk shows, all press was good press as far as I was concerned. And as far as the trolls that loved the show so much? Hell, Bridgette was the most articulate woman I knew. She knew how to put on whatever character she needed to put on to get the job done. She wasn’t giving them any fuel to use against her.

  My phone buzzed in my hand, and my eyes widened when I looked down to see Neil’s name on the screen. “Hello?” I answered, hoping he wasn’t into some shit. Then I felt like shit for that being my first reaction to him calling me.

  “Hey, Nolan?”

  “Yeah, what’s going on?”

  “Uh, I just wante
d to call, and…shit. I don’t want nothing, but I was just thinking about how when we were kids, we would stay up late talking and shit, You remember that?”

  “Yeah, yeah. We’d talk about everything and nothing at all, kid shit that we thought was important at the time,” I said, through a chuckle.

  “Man, I miss that, having someone I can talk to about anything. I mean, I know I done kinda burnt my bridges and everything with this bullshit I been on, but still…”

  I nodded. “I hear you. Hey, man…if you need to talk, I’m here for you. We still twins, no matter what’s gone down.”

  “For real, Nole?”

  “Yeah, and I apologize for being so distant with you.”

  “And for being an arrogant asshole?”

  “Damn, okay…that, too.”

  “Well, I’m sorry for fucking with you for dating all those colonizers.”

  “Uh, okay…it’s all good. Hey, man—”

  Bridgette burst through the greenroom door, and my eyes shot to the monitor where I could see Loretha Halter standing from her ugly-ass yellow chair, talking to the audience, and an older woman sitting on the orange couch, inches from where Bridgette was supposed to be sitting.

  I shot to my feet, mumbled, “Neil, I gotta go,” into the phone, and ended the call. “Bridge, what’s going on?”

  She was shaking all over, visibly shaking, as her eyes wandered the room, not focusing on anything. She didn’t respond to my question, and I wondered if she’d heard me.

  “Bridge?” I said softly. “What’s wrong?”

  A knock came at the door, and one of the producers, a petite brunette woman, peeked her head in, headset still in place. Before she could speak, I shifted my attention from Bridgette to her and asked, “What’s going on? What happened?”

  “They ambushed me, that’s what happened. They invited my-my-my mother on the show! My fucking mother is out there, and no one told me she’d be here! That’s what happened!” Bridgette shrieked. The shaking had grown worse, her eyes wilder. I knew if I didn’t get her out of there, she was going to have a full melt-down, and I was afraid of just what that might look like.