Nude Awakening II

by Victor L. Martin

  Entering her office, he was instantly drawn to her stunning looks. If Keri Hilson had a clone, it would be Janelle. Today she wore a green mesh blouse with an elegant pearl necklace. Her long natural hair was set in a spiral of large bouncy curls that framed her round face. Smiling, she motioned him to sit. “You’re looking better than the news that comes before you.”

  “Talkin’ ‘bout my issue with LaToria?”

  Janelle nodded. “I talked to Jurnee, and as shocking as it may be. It’s life, Trevon.”

  “I’m learning that.”

  Janelle drummed her glossy fingernails on the desk. “Mentally, are you okay? Do you need to take some time off?”

  “That’s the last thing I need,” he said, sliding to the edge of the chair. “I want to move forward. Yeah, I’m hurt over losing LaToria, but I ain’t gonna let it drag me down. Ai’ight, you signed me because you really believe I can be a star, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, I think I need to do more than five more films. I want this to be my life. I want to be the best! And Jurnee can be my manager.”

  Janelle could hear the new determination in his voice. If his mind was set on his career and not love, then it was a change she would welcome. Her opinion of him and Jurnee fucking wasn’t a big surprise. She had known the urge was on Jurnee’s shoulders when she told her about the oral threesome. Janelle also knew how Jurnee could draw the line between business and pleasure. Making up her mind, she leaned forward, making direct eye contact with Trevon. “If you’re ready to make a career of doing porn I’ll back you one hundred percent.”

  Trevon thought about his future. He wanted his own shit, his own money, plus the freedom to do what pleased him. Things that he wanted most—true love and a family—he would have to store it away. Besides, didn’t LaToria just prove that love was just a mere word? Moving off the hurt he still felt toward his loss, he told Janelle he was ready to be a star. Keeping Jurnee’s suggestion of a future threesome film in mind, he also shared her ideas with Janelle. She said she would give the idea some thought. Several minutes later, Ruby interrupted the meeting causing Janelle to instantly frown.

  “Ms. Babin, please forgive me. But there’s an issue going on down in the lobby on the first floor!” Ruby’s voice emitted from the intercom by Janelle’s wrist.

  “What type of issue? Isn’t security on post?”

  “Yes. But I feel you need to be made aware of who it is.”

  Janelle waited for Ruby to continue. “Who is it?”

  “It’s the CEO of Bigg Dog Records, D-Hot. He’s down there with his crew trying to force his way up. I heard he’s looking for Brooke Vee. It don’t look good. Our security is really outnumbered.”

  “I don’t need this shit!” Janelle muttered. “Listen, call the police and get Brooke Vee in my office ASAP!”

  “I’m on it.”

  Janelle rubbed her temple as Trevon stood. “Where are you going?”

  “Down to the first floor. Sounds like your boys need some help.”

  “Trevon, no—”

  “Chill,” he said, moving for the door. “Let me handle this.”

  Janelle did something she rarely did. She stayed quiet, going against her better judgment.

  ***

  “Just tell that ‘ho to bring me my fucking chain!” D-Hot shouted in the lobby with his ten man crew backing him up. He stood chest to chest with three AEF security guards that were trying to end the tension peacefully.

  “Sir,” the middle guard said, holding his palms up as he spoke. “Please lower your voice and explain what—”

  “The bitch stole—I mean, she stole my muthafucking chain!” D-Hot shouted even louder. “Now, somebody gonna bring that bitch down with my chain, or I’ma go up and find ’er my damn self!”

  “How and when was it stolen, sir?” the guard asked.

  D-Hot balled up his fist. “Muthafucka, I ain’t come here to file no gotdamn report! I came here to get my shit! I know that stealin’ ass bitch is here because her ride is out back! Right now, I ain’t the one to be foolin’ wit’!” D-Hot grilled the evenly height white security guard. “Oh yeah.” He sneered. “My crew got guns too, and I know you ain’t trying to go there. Last chance. Get that bitch down—”

  All heads turned to the elevator when it pinged. D-Hot started to rush ahead, but he paused when Trevon stepped out.

  D-Hot remembered Trevon easily. “Where Brooke Vee!” D-Hot bassed.

  “She around,” Trevon said, walking up to D-Hot and his crew.

  D-Hot shook his head. “Oh, you must be fucking that ‘ho since you coming down here on some captain save-a-ho shit!”

  “Nah, I’m just trying to see what’s up. This is a place of business.” Trevon crossed his large arms, staring at D-Hot’s chubby face.

  “Nigga, that He-Man shit don’t hold no weight wit’ me!”

  “It must do somethin’ for you to notice.”

  D-Hot glanced back at his crew. “Y’all see this nigga here?” He turned back to Trevon and then lowered his voice, so only Trevon could hear him. “Nigga, I ain’t come here to play no games. Yeah, I heard ‘bout cha. But know this. I ain’t that lame ass nigga Swagga or his goofball Yaffa that you laid down. Now, that bitch gonna bring her ass down here, or there gone be some major problems.”

  “Bruh, I couldn’t understand you ‘cause I’m used to only females whispering in my ear.”

  D-Hot’s nostrils flared. “Oh, you one of them smart mouth niggas!”

  “Just trying to settle this shit, bruh,” Trevon said, chancing that D-Hot was bluffing. A man of his status wouldn’t risk the chance of a bullshit charge over a chain. Trevon stood his ground with the three security guards confronting D-Hot. Trevon was fully aware of the egos that had to keep their rank. D-Hot had to be the man. Trevon could feel it. He came down on the strength of Janelle, not Brooke Vee. Tension bounced back and forth, filling the lobby with the stench of bad vibes. Trevon uncrossed his arms. He would never underestimate the next man when it came to beef. Trevon remained unflappable as he stood showing no fear, keeping his temper in check.

  “Yeah.” D-Hot sneered, again grilling Trevon. “This a place of biz, my nig. But we both know that ‘ho can’t hide fo’ever. Now, since you wanna jump in this shit. Don’t holler when it starts to stink.”

  Trevon was done exchanging mere words. His entire body was ready to spring at the slightest provocation from D-Hot. One of the guards on Trevon’s left laid a hand on his shoulder, giving him a concerned look.

  D-Hot saw the exchange. “Yeah, you don’t want no problems, son.” D-Hot eyed Trevon up and down. “But be sure to tell that bitch that I’ll catch her around. And you can keep that in mind too, playboy.” D-Hot sucked his teeth, backing away from Trevon and the three guards. When he was sure he had Trevon’s attention, he lifted the hem of his large multi-colored Versace shirt revealing the butt of a gun.

  ***

  Trevon later sat alone in Janelle’s office while she was down on the first floor talking with the police. D-Hot and his team sped off a mere two minutes prior to the cops’ arrival in a caravan of three Toyota Land Cruisers. Janelle didn’t want Trevon to even be questioned by the police. On her call, she also made it clear to the guards that they weren’t to mention anything about D-Hot having a gun. She didn’t want any bad publicity raining on her company. Trevon was slumped deep into the chair staring aimlessly at the olive green wall. D-Hot had him unstable by flashing his heat in his face. He could feel his mind-set edging back toward his I-don’t-give-a-fuck mode. Day by day, he was quickly learning the ropes of how unpredictable life could be. Things were faster, and the risk ran deeper than his time spent in prison. The taste of being helpless was sour over him. D-Hot could have taken things to a level that Trevon very well knew he wasn’t prepared to handle.

  “Never again,” he whispered with conviction. Sighing, he rose and went to take a seat on the sofa to his left. He was preparing to make a call to Jurnee
when Janelle pushed the door open.

  “I can’t believe D-Hot did this shit today!” She stood with her hands on her hips. “I knew I shouldn’t have allowed . . . I mean . . . fuck!” She stomped.

  “Now it’s my turn to tell you to sit down and relax,” Trevon told her.

  Janelle sat down on the edge of her desk crossing her arms. “That was crazy what you did down there.”

  He shrugged his big shoulders.

  “From what I was told, you had a lot to say to D-Hot.”

  “I was just trying to make things calm,” he said with a deadpan expression.

  She cleared her throat. “Next time, let’s let the security do their job.”

  “I feel you.”

  Janelle slid off the desk and then sat down beside Trevon, turning slightly to face him. “Don’t get yourself caught up in no bullshit, Trevon. I can only imagine how you’re keeping it all together up here.” She tapped her head. “But you gotta do what’s right for Trevon from here on out. Now, about you and Kandi . . . I’ll leave that alone. Because from what Jurnee told me, I’m just at a loss of words on that. But anyway, you came here to speak on your future with Amatory, and like I said before, I’ll back you. Now as for Jurnee being your manager, that’s an excellent idea.”

  “Ai’ight.” He nodded.

  “So you’re really serious about this, huh?”

  “My choices are limited right now.”

  “Well, the ones you have in front of you are good ones. Trust me.” She smiled. “Everything will work out for you.”

  Trevon had mad love for Janelle. She was one of the rare females he could count on without the topic of sex being in the mix. Staying true to her always-on-the-grind mission, she had to bring her meeting with Trevon to a close. Grabbing her iPad, iPhone, and car keys, she explained about an out of state business meeting with Wahida Clark.

  “What do y’all two have going?” Trevon asked as he followed Janelle out of her office.

  “A movie deal,” Janelle told him. “If I can reach a deal with WCP, AEF will turn a WCP sex-driven novel into a movie.”

  Trevon raised his left eyebrow. “Be sure to keep me in mind for a part.”

  CHAPTER

  Fourteen

  Having the Last Words

  Trevon steered his XJL behind Janelle’s Lamborghini Aventador until she turned off Biscayne. The sun was still holding claim overhead, making the scene fit for a postcard. Trevon’s attention was focused. D-Hot was back on his mind, and Trevon was set on keeping his word. Instead of heading home, he made a left off Biscayne Boulevard when he reached 62nd Street. Inching all four windows to his eye-level, he turned the system on with “Everyday Struggle” by BIG ringing his ears. He was in his element behind the wheel, in control. He drove by the same bus stops along 62nd Street that he used to sit and wait for the bus with his mom and sis. Those days were over, but truth be told, he missed them. Nearing Liberty City, he saw it was still the same. Black people were living the very song he was blasting. Only their everyday struggle was life, not a verse in a rap.

  Reaching his old stomping grounds of the Pork and Beans projects, he whipped his sedan to a known trap house that sat on a corner. Trevon’s XJL stuck out like oil in water amongst the fleet of Donks and candy-painted four-door Chevy’s parked up and down the block. A tall hustler with a mouth full of gold teeth slid off the hood of a pea-green ’74 Caprice Vert sitting on 28’s. Squinting hard at the XJL, he broke out into a crooked grin.

  “If it ain’t my muthafuckin’ ace boon coon, Trev!” Twank shouted.

  Trevon was all smiles at seeing his old schoolmate from Brownsville Junior High.

  “Damn, bruh. You look old as fuck!” Trevon joked, giving Twank a thug hug.

  “Shit. You just look young ‘cause the pen kept yo’ ass on ice. But damn, it’s good to see you. I heard you was out, and I see you eatin’ good, my nig.” Twank nodded at the Jag parked under a mango tree.

  “I got a little gig going,” Trevon replied without saying much else.

  Twank rubbed his hands together. “You know we go way back. So if you want some weight I—”

  “Naw, bruh.” Trevon shook his head. “I need something else if you can help me?”

  “Holla.”

  “I need a burner.”

  Spending $100 cash, he now owned a chrome and matte black finished Smith and Wesson fifteen shot .40. Twank assured him it was clean and fresh out of the box.

  Trevon was taking a major risk with his freedom. Pushing his XJL at the posted speed limit, he now felt weary about being pulled over by the police for some bullshit. Driving with the system off, he suddenly had an idea. LaToria was back on his mind. Knowing his iPhone number was blocked from LaToria’s cell phone, he wondered if she did the same for the second number he used for the Bluetooth system. Steering with his left hand, leaning slightly to the right, he switched lanes to pass a city bus.

  “Call LaToria,” he said, turning the hands-free system on. A second later, a small picture of LaToria’s smiling face appeared on the central display screen along with her phone number. Willing the call to go through, he was startled when it started to ring. Gripping the steering wheel, his heart began to race after the third ring that sounded from the small hidden speakers inside the cabin. Slowing for a red light behind a white late model Honda Accord, he swerved a bit when she answered unexpectedly.

  “Hey, Trevon,” LaToria’s voice rang into his ears. “I know it’s you because you’re real funny acting about letting people drive your car.”

  Trevon had a million things to ask and a millions things to say, but the moment was too awkward to compose himself. “What’s up with you? You gonna explain to me what’s going on with us?”

  She sighed. “It just wasn’t working out for us.”

  “And you came up with that feeling overnight? What about the baby? Is it true you’re going to have an abortion?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, so it’s just fuck me and on to the next nigga, huh?”

  “It’s a lot of shit you don’t understand, okay?”

  “Yeah, I bet it is. But guess what? It don’t even matter to me no more. All I care about is the baby.”

  “It’s not like that, Trevon.”

  “You told me that before.”

  “Do you hate me?”

  He frowned, staring at the picture of her face. “Are you serious? You act like what we had wasn’t shit. You dip out on me for another nigga wit’ bread and now—”

  “Jurnee tell you that?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Is she with you now?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe y’all need to stop assuming shit ‘bout me and—”

  “Ain’t nobody assuming shit ‘bout you! We speaking off the bullshit you doing.”

  “And you can’t say much since you didn’t waste a damn second to fuck Jurnee.”

  “Well, least you know who I’m fucking!”

  “Fuck you!”

  Trevon’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “You know, I don’t even know why I’m wasting my time talking to you.”

  “That makes two of us then!”

  Silence. Any second now he was waiting for her to end the call. Fuming, he stayed silent as the line remained connected. He couldn’t find the resolve to end the call himself.

  “Shit is crazy,” he heard her mutter.

  “I guess you’re just doing what makes you happy.”

  “You ain’t answer my question. Do you hate me?”

  Trevon rubbed his forehead with the light still red.

  “You gonna answer me, Trevon?”

  “Why does it matter how the fuck I feel? Your ass didn’t have that in mind when you left with Martin!”

  “Martellus.”

  “Martin, Martellus. Fuck him!” Trevon shouted.

  Silence.

  “I can’t make you understand.”

  “Ain’t shit to understand, okay? You been cheating o
n me, so fuck it. It is what the fuck it is, and trust me. You don’t need to make me understand.”

  “It’s not really like that,” she tried to explain. “Please don’t judge me.”

  “Whatever, yo,” he said, glancing at the rearview mirror. His heart skipped a beat at the site of a Metro-Dade police cruiser two cars back.

  “Trevon, I know what I did was wrong. But I—”

  “It don’t matter to me no more, ai’ight.”

  “I have to go, okay? But you can’t call me at this number no more.”

  “Like that’s a surprise.”

  “I’ll call you later on in the week with a new number, okay?”

  Trevon, with all the hurt he held inside matched it against the love he still carried for her. Frowning, he refused to be boyfriend number two.

  “Nah, I’m good. Wouldn’t want to make your man mad, so keep that new number to yourself. Or give it to somebody that wanna hear that bullshit you talking. I’m done.” Pressing a button on the steering wheel, he ended the call. Six seconds later, the light turned green.

  ***

  Jurnee was chatting with her new friend Tahkiyah when she heard Trevon coming through the front door. Excusing herself, she asked Tahkiyah to relax a second while she got up to speak to Trevon.

  “How did things work out with Janelle?” she asked Trevon as he entered the code to turn the alarm system back on.

  “Good and bad,” he replied.

  “What happened?”

  “Just some crazy shit with D-Hot,” he said, turning to face her.

  “D-Hot?”

  “Yeah. But it didn’t have nothing to do with me talking to Janelle. It’s all good on that subject, and she’s down with you being my manager.”

  “Cool!”

  “You ummm, got company. I see that BMW out front. Do I know ’im?”

  “Yes, I got company.” She smiled. “But you don’t know her.”

  “Oh, my bad.” He grinned.

  “Hell, I just met her today.” She glanced over her shoulder.

  “Who is she?”

  Jurnee quickly explained that Tahkiyah was in the neighborhood to view the house across the street that was up for sale. Wanting to know how the neighborhood was, Tahkiyah was just being friendly.