Determining Possession (Connecticut Kings Book 3)

by Christina C Jones

  I was done.

  “Excuse me?” Sarita asked, drawing her head back.

  “You heard exactly what I said.” I stood up and grabbed my purse, leaving the new contract there on the table. “I’ve worked my ass off my entire time here, and that won’t change now. I’ll be back on time for tonight’s show, and every other day that’s necessary to fulfill my current contract. Because I’m a professional, and that is all I’ve ever been for this network. But I will not sign that.”

  Sarita sat back, crossing her arms. “Don’t bother coming back for a filming tonight – we’re showing a re-run. That decision was already made before you walked in here, and your cohost has been notified. But I tell you this – if you walk out of here without taking that contract with you, you will not be offered another one. And I promise you, nobody is going to be lining up to offer you another position. I mean… unless your father is going to write another check for you, it’s a scary world out there girl.”

  I smirked. “That’s what part of this is about, isn’t it? I’ve seen how some of these people hop, skip, and jump around here for you, but not me. Not ever, because I’m not scared. You can levy your little veiled threats of blackballing me, try to discount my talent by saying my daddy has to pay my way around all you want to. But Sarita… I’m not afraid of you.”

  “If you want a career in media, maybe you should be.”

  I let my smirk spread into a smile. “Maybe so. But you want to know the most important investment my mother and father ever made in me? They didn’t raise a coward.”

  I didn’t wait around for Connie to try to calm me down, didn’t give Sarita a chance for another snide remark. I left, with my head held high, just like my mother taught me. My chest was tight, eyes burning, head swimming with what just happened.

  I pushed out a deep breath once I made it back to the safe confines of my car. Pulling my cell from my bag, I turned the screen on. The first thing I saw was a text from Ramsey.

  “Just left workout. I don’t feel good about it though…. I feel FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC! I really think this is happening! – R. Bishop.”

  I was happy as hell for him, but the reality of my own situation hit me at the same time. I’d already lost my man, lost my home as a byproduct, and now, apparently, I didn’t even have a job. What the hell was I doing?

  Instead of dwelling there, I shook my head. I couldn’t let myself slip back into the low place I was just starting to feel that I’d made it out of.

  “You killed it didn’t you?” I texted Ramsey back. “I knew you would! Dinner on me? Unless you have plans?”

  “Nah, I’m all yours. I want to tell you about it. – R. Bishop.”

  We went back and forth a little about the place and time, and then I started my car, anxious to get away from the building. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I knew hanging around here wasn’t the best use of my time.

  Not that it mattered.

  Without a job, time was something I’d have plenty of.

  “So you were just going to let me ramble on and on all night about a damn workout, and not tell me about this?”

  Instead of answering my question, Wil averted her gaze as she took a long sip of water, trying to stall. I’d been so high on my own excitement, even when I picked her up, that it took me all the way through dinner, into dessert, to notice that she wasn’t shining at her normal wattage. When I did, it took some pressure to get her to tell me.

  “Don’t you dare,” I said, quickly reaching across the table to slide her plate of cheesecake away before she could use another mouthful as an excuse not to talk. “You’re telling me they hired my replacement, without saying shit to me? And they’re taking money from your salary to do it?”

  “I’m telling you that’s the impression I had. What did they say when they called to tell you we weren’t filming today?”

  I shook my head. “They left a message, made it seem like there were some technical issues or something. Which was bullshit, obviously.”

  “The whole thing is bullshit,” she agreed, doing a not at all good job of sneaking her fork across the table to snag some of the cheesecake. “Sarita has always been a bitch, but this is something else going on. Something… I don’t know. As pissed as I am about what happened, I really can’t help but feel like we both dodged a bullet.”

  “That gut feeling is everything, Champ.”

  She gave me an absent nod in response, then reached for her dessert plate. All night, she’d been fully engaged in me, asking questions about the workout, getting excited. But knowing that she’d been busy celebrating my shit just a few hours after what sounded like the meeting from hell… I felt bad for even having her out tonight. The least I could do was give her a moment with the cheesecake she raved about every time we hit this spot.

  While she ate, I observed. She was so deep in her own thoughts that she didn’t notice – or didn’t care – that I was staring at her like I was seeing her for the first time. She had her hair pulled back, showcasing her pretty ass face, but her expression was so somber – so unlike her – that it pissed me off.

  “Hey,” I said, reaching across the table for the hand she wasn’t maneuvering her fork with. “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay. Cause apparently I’m jobless too now. This is probably the last date I’ll be able to get for a while. Can’t impress the ladies without a job.”

  “Oh please,” she laughed, which was exactly what I was trying to do. Her cheekbones lifted as her lips stayed spread into a smile, and that cute little gap of hers appeared.

  Soft ass lips.

  “You know damn well you wouldn’t have a single problem getting a woman, job or not. I can probably find you a sugar mama somewhere in here.”

  I shook my head. “Nah. Under six feet and no job? I may as well hang it up.”

  “Stop,” she giggled, and I squeezed her hand, which seemed to remind her I was still holding it. She looked down at our entwined fingers with this expression of… wonder, or something like that. The same look was still on her face when she lifted her eyes to mine, and staring at me in the same way I’d been staring at her a few seconds ago.

  Like I was a phenomenon.

  But then she dropped her gaze, and cleared her throat, gently sliding her hands back to place them in her lap. “Don’t look now,” she started. “But they’re kinda giving us the stink eye over there.”

  “Who?” I asked, looking even though she’d said not to. Sure enough, we were getting the please leave so we can clean your table and go home look from our server and the hostess, both of whom quickly looked away when they realized I saw them. Chuckling, I brushed off my lap and stood up, fishing my wallet from my pocket. I put two hundred-dollar bills on the table – enough to cover our meal, drinks, and a generous tip – then held out a hand to help Wil up from her seat.

  She accepted the hand, and then I motioned for her to lead, a move that was purely habit. I wasn’t trying to get a peek at her ass, but she was wearing this thin little dress that was hugging and clinging and just… good God.

  Get it together, Ram.

  Our chosen dinner spot for the night was in Stamford, so it didn’t take much time to get her home. Instead of talking, we’d cranked up the radio and sang along, so when I pulled around to her apartment, it went without question that I would be walking her to the door, to say goodbye.

  “So what’s your next step?” she asked, as we approached the door. The motion light popped on, bathing the entire porch in a golden glow that made her look damn near angelic as she put her back to the door, leaning into it.

  “Next step for…?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Becoming the Kings’ star running back, and leading them to that Super Bowl win that slipped away last year, duh. We got interrupted by you insisting on listening to me complain.”

  “Okay so you can kill that noise,” I said. “But as far as joining the team, it’s really just a waiting game now. They’ll call when they call.
If they want to call.”

  “They want to call,” she insisted. “They might make you sweat a little first, but they would be idiots not to call. They need you.”

  I shook my head as I stepped closer to her, off pure compulsion. “You sure do know how to pump a man’s head up, Champ.”

  She shrugged. “All I’m doing is telling the truth. Same as you’re always doing for me.”

  “Not the same thing.”

  She crossed her arms. “How so?”

  “Cause you’re… I don’t know. You’re you.”

  “And you’re you,” she shot back. “What, you don’t think you’re worthy or something?”

  Heh.

  She didn’t know how accurate that was. Or rather, used to be, even though the shit still cropped up sometimes. Sure, I talked, dressed, lived a certain way now, but that wasn’t always the case, growing up with virtually nothing no matter how hard my mother tried. For a lot of people – for a lot of men – the shit was hard to admit, and it certainly wasn’t about to come out of my mouth, but having people look at you a certain way for so long, then have it suddenly change… you didn’t always just shake that shit off.

  I wasn’t so far removed from having nothing that I didn’t remember what it felt like. The shit was vivid, so much that it woke me up from my sleep sometimes. But once I signed that NFL contract, once I got that first check, I made a vow – I was never going back to that.

  That was barely eight years ago.

  Back in college, the girls… they saw it. The athletic scholarship may have taken the boy out of the hood, but the hood was very much still in the boy, and they didn’t want shit to do with it. Lena was an exception, in a way that I didn’t realize until much later wasn’t healthy. She was one of the rich, bougie chicks, and she considered herself elevating me. She would bring me into her world, but wanted nothing to do with mine, never meeting halfway.

  And honestly speaking… Wil was one of those chicks too. Made inaccessible by culture and class – on the surface, at least. But once I knew her, I saw different. Wil would go to the hood and talk to the mothers of budding young players– the ones watching their sons, and the ones watching their children’s fathers – who congregated on raggedy metal bleachers outside in the heat of summer, to get their voice for an interview.

  She never hesitated to go to the roughest of neighborhoods to get to a good chicken spots for wings. Never saw someone on the streets she wouldn’t slip a few dollars to if she had it on her – something I’d had to beg her to stop doing when she was by herself. But the point was, Wil didn’t think she was better than anybody.

  There was no ulterior motive to her praise, no emotional manipulation, just… genuine admiration. I wondered if she understood how refreshing that was, in our world? How damned sexy her authenticity was. In that moment, I got consumed with the thought of kissing her, but then her gaze dropped as she let out a sigh.

  “So…” she sighed again, before she lifted her eyes back to mine. “I’ve gotta say thank you.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Thank you for what?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve been… a lot over the last month or so, and please don’t try to make me feel better by saying “no, no, you’re not”, because… yeah. I kinda have. My life is a complete clusterfuck right now, and I really don’t know what I would do without my parents, Naima, Soriyah when I can get her ass on the phone, and really, really importantly… you. So just… thank you for being my friend. And not ignoring my calls so you don’t have to listen to me whine, and taking me to eat whatever I want,” she laughed, and then her expression shifted, and her cheeks visibly heated. “And… for not holding that kiss against me.” Her nose wrinkled up as she frowned. “Not really my proudest moment, you know? Giving you the “money shot” as you called it.”

  I chuckled as I took a step back, very glad I hadn’t acted on that urge to kiss her a second ago. “Why would that be something I held against you?”

  “Because, you didn’t want me putting my lips on you!” she answered, with such certainty that I couldn’t help what came out of my mouth next, as she giggled.

  “You sure about that?” The giggle died on her lips, and her eyes went wide as I stepped into her again, closer than before. “I’m gonna go ahead and get out of here,” I told her, pushing my hands into my pockets. “But for the record, I could never hold that kiss against you.” I leaned in a little more, speaking into her ear. “I kissed you back. Good night,” I said, then placed a soft kiss against her temple and headed to the truck.

  I was halfway there when I turned to see her still standing there, unmoving, and I chuckled. “Go in the house!”

  Those words seemed to remind her she was outside, and she flinched, then dug her keys from her bag. Shaking my head, I climbed into the truck and sat down, watching until she tossed her hand up to wave before she closed the door and went inside.

  I started the truck but didn’t immediately pull off. I had a strange sense of déjà vu, from just a few days ago after the wedding. After that kiss.

  Something had shifted now, and I wondered if she felt it like I did? I hadn’t intended to say what I said, but it was out now.

  I wasn’t sure which one of us had more to think about.

  Six

  Why was everything going nuts at once?

  No man – because he was a cheating liar.

  No house – because the cheating liar was there.

  No job – apparently, since a certified letter had arrived this morning, informing me that I was essentially banned from the studio, which… whatever.

  And then, on top of everything… had the man I considered one of my best friends just… shot his shot?

  I think he shot his shot!

  But… no.

  No, that’s not what that was.

  Ramsey wasn’t a man of… subtlety. He was a man of strong opinions, firm decisions, going after what he wanted. If he was trying to get with me romantically, he wouldn’t leave me wondering, I didn’t think. With a man like Ramsey, I would be very, very sure.

  I think.

  “I’m so damned confused,” I whined, gently leaning onto Naima’s shoulder as she sat at her kitchen counter, peeling apples.

  “You say that like it’s news.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be mean to me Mimi, I’m serious. I need you to be a good cousin, and tell me what to doooo.”

  “Ashley already told you what to do,” Naima insisted, shrugging me off of her so she could take the apples to the sink to rinse them off.

  From the other side of the kitchen, perched on the counter, Ashley took a break from the selfie she was taking to nod. “I sure did.”

  My head made a soft thud sound as I dropped it onto the counter. “Screwing Ramsey is not the answer.”

  “Why the hell not?” I looked up as Cole bustled into the kitchen, a bottle of wine in both hands. “He’s not your coworker anymore, so you’re golden now. I say take advantage of the opportunity.”

  “He is my friend,” I said, for what felt like the hundredth time, and the girls rolled their eyes for the hundred-and-first.

  From the sink, Naima called, “I’m telling you – it’s bound to happen anyway, sooner or later. You may as well get it over with. You need a good orgasm.”

  “I’ve had orgasms,” I argued. “I’ve had plenty now that I’m not depending on Darius for it. I had one this morning, as a matter of fact, so nah.”

  Naima laughed. “Good for you cousin, but I’m talking about the type only another warm body can give you.” She turned the water off, then faced me, resting back against the sink. “Indulge me – and yourself – for a few minutes. What do you think he’s like in bed?”

  I gasped. “Oh my God, I haven’t thought about that!”

  “Liar,” they all said, in unison, and I folded my arms across my chest.

  “I…I just… ugh. Okay. I’ve thought about it. Briefly. Maybe… once… or twice… or eleven times today. I don’t k
now, am I supposed to be a machine who counts how many times I think about screwing my bestie?!”

  Naima’s eyebrows went up as she looked to Ashley, then Cole, then back to me. “Girl… cut the weird shit and just answer the question.”

  I huffed. “Fine. I… I think he would be… really… gentlemanly. He’s so easy going, so laid back, you know? He would definitely make sure I came first, and he would have no issue giving the kitty the oral attention she deserves. And… kissing. Lots of kissing.”

  Once I stopped talking, it was quiet for a second, and then all three women burst out laughing.

  “Bitch, wow,” Naima giggled. “You really have thought about this!”

  “Probably because he’s been thirst-trappin’ all over Instagram lately,” Cole said, standing up to retrieve a corkscrew. “Is that what has you ready Wil?”

  “I’m not ready, I’m just… she asked a question, and I answered. And what are you talking about with the thirst traps? I’ve been ignoring social media, for my sanity.”

  “Oh wow,” Ashley said, then laughed at something on her phone. “I see what she’s talking about. That thing damn near poked me in the eye through the screen.”

  My eyes went wide. “Wait a minute, what?”

  Ashley hopped down from her perch on the counter and came to me, putting her phone down in front of me. She’d pulled up Ramsey’s Instagram page – specifically, a video he’d posted a few hours ago.

  In the video, the camera was below him as he utilized an overhead bar for pull-ups. He was shirtless, sure, but he was shirtless in a lot of his videos when he worked out. I didn’t understand what was so provocative about this one, and was about to say so when Ramsey hopped down from the bar, and…

  “Oh my God!” I yelped, clapping a hand over my mouth.

  Beside me, Naima shook her head. “Uh-uh. There’s no way that’s his dick. He’s got like… something in his pocket.”