I realized I was nodding nonstop like one of those bigheaded bobble thingies on a car dashboard and settled on frowning at him to keep myself still. Umph, lookin’ like thaaat, he could ride all up on this ass. Call me Babe the got-damn Blue Ox . . .
Big chuckled, thankfully interrupting my cyclone of dirty thoughts, which were probably spinning all over my face. He made his way behind the counter and started fidgeting with some paperwork. “Girl, long story short . . .” He briefly looked up in my direction. “Yo, you okay? You look upset or something.”
Ugh, okay, don’t frown. Straight face, girl, just keep a straight face. I waved for him to continue. “Keep going, you’re . . . I’m fine. Just shocked at seeing you that’s all. It’s been crazy as hell, but that’s another story.”
“Well, somehow Rah was the only one who went in. We all got picked up and questioned, of course no one talked, and then all the charges got dropped. Sad shit, my boy took the heat for everybody. Having my life on the line like that, knowing that I could have lost everything . . . it changed me. We all had rainy-day funds; every real hustler does. This what I did with mine. I got my life right, started eating right, working out, meditating. I’ve got ten of these spots and Miami is lucky number eleven.” He waved his arms around the small, dim, jasmine-scented parlor and smiled.
“I’m proud of you. You did good, unlike some of us I guess. So you ain’t the massage person, you’re actually the owner? Why this, though? That just seems so not you.” I stared at him, confused and relieved because he could’ve been a snitch, thankfully that wasn’t the case. This was so not like the Big Baby I remembered. Then again, look at me. We were both in completely opposite directions from where we’d originally started, on some type of yin-yang self-discovery adventures. From the koi pond to the white paper lanterns and dark brown leather sofas, everything looked sophisticated and relaxing.
“Miami won’t on the radar. I thought there’d be too much competition, but a couple of investors saw how good I was doing and approached me about this area. Starting was easy; you remember Shiree? Ah man, she used to love my amateur back and ass massages.”
“Ass massages, really, what the hell kind of mess is that?” I was cracking up at that one.
“You laughing; why you think she used to fuck with me so hard back then? It wasn’t ’cause I was pretty. We both know that.” He chuckled. “But nah, your boy is handy. I knew how to do a lot of out of the ordinary shit before I even knew how to cook.”
“What the hell? I forgot all about her; where is she now?” I tried to sound nonchalant. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about her ass. Seeing as how she was Larissa’s sister, she might be someone I’d have to check in on for info about Michelle and Paris.
“Aw, I messed up bad with her, ain’t never hear from her again after I got picked up. I actually went to school, got my degree and everything because of how good she told me I was with these hands. I don’t have any staff in here yet so I’m the staff right now. But Honey . . . I mean um, Des, we were doin’ it all wrong. It’s to the point now where I don’t even use my hands for nothin’ but countin’ paper. Legit, clean, ‘ain’t gotta watch my back’ paper.”
He’d walked over and stood next to me and I couldn’t believe how big his ass was. I kept giving him the side eye. He was like Andre the Giant and all I wanted to do was wrestle. He could put me in his sleeper choke hold, million-dollar dream . . .
“You can get a massage on the house if you don’t believe me. You ain’t gotta get naked or anything like that unless you’re comfortable. Trust, I ain’t tryin’ to lose my license over no foul shit. I’ve got the hot stones for stress and tension relief. We can start you off with a rosehip oil and lavender mix. Come here see for yourself.”
Big led me to an area that smelled like a field of wonderfulness in the springtime and I was impressed. There were so many extracts and infusions, each one smelling better than the last.
“What is this one? Oh my goodness, I kind of like it.” It was like those Atomic Fireballs I used to get when I was little with vanilla and a little bit of cherry.
“I make them myself, all natural. You should try this lemongrass and mint oil one for energy. I promise it’ll be worth it.” He winked.
“Marcus Latharium Bello, oh shit,“ I whispered in an excited little voice whipping out my phone playfully. “I gotta take a picture. This nigga got a real name. Boy you don’t even know how we used to bet dollars on you. All them nights where you ran the club the goal was to see how many shots it’d take to get you to tell your real name. This is your business license right?” I laughed.
“Well, as far as you know Ms. Desivita, my name is Big or Big Baby so we’re even as far as the name game goes. Now, pick out an oil.”
His tone was reassuring as he stared down at me, his expression saying “why not.”
Ooh, why had I not done something like this sooner?
A few minutes later I was lying face down in a cozy, dim room, wearing nothing but a soft black cotton towel. My face peeked through a hole in the headrest that Big had adjusted so it cradled my cheeks perfectly. I tried to focus on the small stream that ran under the clear glass tile flooring. Just like the Ritz Hotel, there was something about the people of Miami and their fascination with putting wildlife indoors. Tiny fish darted in and out of the rocks beneath me as the lighting in the water shifted from shades of purple to blue. I’d never seen anything like it. As much as I wanted to enjoy the view, I couldn’t have forced my eyes to stay open once Big’s hands started working the tension knots in my lower back.
He wasn’t lying. If it wasn’t the size of his hands, because they were huge, then it had to be their sheer strength. Big could easily break or bruise any part of me if he wanted to but under the heat of his hands I felt myself relaxing. It’s a wonder I didn’t just slide off the massage table into a melted puddle like a crayon left outside in the middle of summer.
Paris should have crayons now, she is old enough. Those fat jumbo ones and probably some chalk, too, so we could draw on the concrete. I wonder if she can draw?
“You know you’re all knotted up right in here,” Big grunted, pressing deep into my lower back and it wiped my thoughts completely from my head.
Maybe it was the excitement of having another man touch me with hands that weren’t always cold. It might have been the peppery-woodsy smell of the cologne he was wearing that had me wanting to climb off the table and climb him. My stuff was throbbin’ and there was probably a puddle up underneath me. He hit what I’d have to call an “oh shit” spot and before I could even think to try to stop him or distract myself, it was done and I didn’t even know how the fuck he did it. I ain’t never in my life tried so hard to fight my own body.
“Ooh fuck,” escaped through my clenched teeth while I tried to hide and enjoy the small ripples running up and down my legs and through my back.
“What’s that, are you okay?” Big paused and leaned down next to my ear.
“Hmm, me? Yeah.” I was damn near out of breath. “I thought your li’l fish down there was fuckin’ or fightin’. I don’t know; it was weird. They stopped though. Whew, I’m good. Get back to rubbin’.”
He went back to work and all the while I was damn sure my nails were going to leave little half moon–shaped marks in the leather of the massage chair.
This nigga actually made me cum without dickin’ me down or even going near my pussy, what the hell? No wonder white folk fly off and get this shit every damn week.
“You got a frequent flyer card or something like that?” I asked later jokingly but serious as hell.
Big laughed, handing me a shiny gold and white card. “After your fifth massage you get a free deep tissue or a facial with a seaweed wrap. It’s up to you.”
Mmm hmm, I’ll take a free deep anything you’re offering. Realizing I was just standing there stuck in a post-climatic-daydream I snapped myself back to reality.
“So how long will you be in town? I ain
’t trying to let no strangers rub all over me.”
“I’m here for another month or so. Winter is probably slow so I’ll head back to VA and relax. Come through sometime; we need to catch up. You need to work out or look into some serious stretching. That area around your S4, S5 lower spine felt a little tight.”
We exchanged numbers; and to hell with that Big Baby foolishness, I saved his shit under Big Daddy.
Chapter 3
It’s All Fake-Believe Anyway
Shame on me for putting my phone on silent, I’d missed a million texts and calls from Angelo’s ass. He was just gonna have to learn that I wasn’t the one for that whole “text tracking” bullshit. Text tracking is when a nigga calls or texts every ten minutes and then waits to see if you reply in “ain’t fuckin’ somebody else” amount of time. No, we were not about to play that game. I had enough on my mind as it was.
I Googled S4 and S5 on the way home. Those were discs in the spine that controlled sexual function. The smile that spread across my face was damn near impossible to control from that moment forward. I walked up into our penthouse, trying to erase the smug grin off my face.
Big must have gone and enrolled himself in Game 101 while he was getting that massage degree, because he used to have zero.
Leaning up against the door, inhaling the rose oil and mint still on my skin, I closed my eyes and just stood there for a minute. He’d looked so damn good, and his hands—
“Look who finally decided to waltz in. We’ve been waiting for you.”
My eyes shot open at the sound of Don Cerzulo Campelli’s gruff voice. He was actually in our living room, propped up on our couch with a brandy snifter in his hand. I’d have known that voice anywhere. He was one of the most famous actors in the world and he was here, talking to me. Sir’Tavius would kick my ass if he ever found out I met Don Cerzulo Campelli and I didn’t have on not one piece of snaparazzi or any makeup. He was probably here to consider me for another role and here I come all sweaty, mismatched, smellin’ like straight-up wet padussy. Thanks to Big my panties were soaked, and I wasn’t about to walk all the way home like that. They had to come off, so in my jacket pocket was where they sat soppin’ wet and everything.
Suddenly feeling embarrassed and beyond self-conscious I looked down and kicked myself. Out of all the days to wear flip-flops with my polish chipped and lookin’ crazy, I’d pick this one. Smooth move, real smooth.
“Honey, I tried callin’ like I don’t know how many times.” Angelo came in from the kitchen.
“Yeah, my phone died sweety.” I emphasized that shit and gave him a funky, fake smile stare down, praying Don Cerzulo would think we were just calling each other pet names. Angelo was gonna make me take to burning his ass with cigarettes or something. Maybe the negative association would help him get my damn name right.
“Well, I’d like to introduce you to my father. He helped make all of this happen and now you know why it was easy, but not so easy.”
Don Cerzulo’s expression was unreadable as he inclined his head gradually in acknowledgment of our introduction. Angelo’s father, aka the head of the family, aka the fuckin’ Angel of Death in the flesh, was in my living room. His second name was because he stayed on some straight-up hermit shit hiding from every agency on the planet. The story Angelo had told me about his father’s name was that the only time anyone ever saw the Angel of Death . . . well, let’s just say he was the last person they saw. How he managed to hide that part of his life from the world was a mystery to me, but I guessed that’s why he was who he was.
Angelo walked over, his face furrowed up in a frown. “You shouldn’t have left the way you did. I was tryin’ to—”
“What Angelo is trying to say is money isn’t everything, but in this day and age time is our most valuable commodity and sweety, my time is money.” The Don’s fat fingers slid his suit jacket away from his watch and he tsked at it in disappointment.
“Waiting on you has cost me more than you’ll ever be worth in this lifetime.”
My throat tightened and I felt lightheaded, my stomach knotted up and that zucchini I’d fixed for dinner wanted out of my stomach but I couldn’t tell which end it wanted out of. The Angel of Death didn’t make special appearances, and Angelo was just standing quietly, looking pale and sweaty. In the time it would take me to open the door a bullet could be in my head. I ain’t escape prison to go out like this. Paris was going to see me and know my name, touch my face. I was a cornered Rottweiler ready to rip their throats out with my teeth if I had to.
“Angelo, son, get over here and be done with this. I told the family I’d see this business through and here I am. So andiamo.”
Reaching behind me slowly, I began to pull down on the the door lever. It was the only chance I had. Angelo moved closer to me as Don Cerzulo began to stand.
I twisted the handle, and had barely turned to pull the door open when it hit me like a tidal wave.
“Honey, my Desivita, will you marry me?” Angelo dropped down on one knee and stared up at me through nervous, pleading eyes.
My mind could have been playing tricks on me but I’d have sworn his hands were shaking when my eyes focused on and confirmed what was, in fact, a ring. Wide-eyed and caught off-guard, I quickly looked over at Don Cerzulo in a panic for help, or advice, or I didn’t even know.
Marry him? Marry Angelo? I can’t, we don’t even know each other that well. You’re supposed to know a person for years before you marry them. Be in the love, see stars and fireworks, and hear orchestras when you kiss.
Don Cerzulo gave me a quick, tight nod and I’d have been a damn fool if I ain’t think he wasn’t telling me to say yes or else.
What the hell could I do?
“Of course, baby.” I gave Angelo a crazy smile-grimace combo as my thoughts drifted to a man I hadn’t seen in ages, with hands that could give me goose bumps and make me moan.
“Mmm, I don’t wanna fight. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone. Il mio cuore, you have my heart.” Angelo stood and nuzzled my neck before smiling down at me, and I tried to my damndest to smile back.
“What is this on you that smell so good? You buy it today?” he asked.
Still flustered, I could barely piece together a lie. “Uh, just something I saw at one of the boutiques. It was sold out. Um, I just tried it on.”
I broke away from him, removing my jacket and setting my things on the stand by the door.
“Tell me which boutique and I’ll get it for you; nothing is sold out to us.” Angelo was following me like a puppy.
“Never mind all that.”
Don Cerzulo smoothed his silver-tipped sideburns as he came up to me. Do you know what money smells like? No, I don’t mean them dollars fresh from the bank, but real money. I’m talking about that “wipe your ass with twenty-four-karat gold leaves” kind of money. It smells like sweet cherry pipe tobacco and the Wilson’s leather jacket shop at Christmas time. It’s Arabian Wood Tom Ford, fox hunting and sky box dinners with truffle oil dressing. There was a time when that smell would have sent me into a “get money” frenzy. Angelo had paper yes, but Don Cerzulo was saturated with it. Some niggas did it on purpose and in the strip club we’d call that shit “asset advertisement”, because they got it and they wanted your ass to know.
Don Cerzulo had it unconsciously flowing off of him in waves like some kind of high frequency luxury radiation. I wanted that. My body didn’t have a price anymore. No more pullin’ the g-string to the side and fuckin’ niggas on the low during lap dances. If I played this shit at the right angle Don’s paper could easily be my paper.
Don Cerzulo spoke softly. “Just so we’s clear on a few things, I don’t feel any particular way about the death of the boy’s half siblings. His mother’s a spiteful cunt; her elevator may not go all the way to the roof.” He jabbed his finger into my temple for emphasis. “But, still spiteful. And yes, you’re protected now but she’s a ruthless bitch. Watch your front, side, back, ’cause
she don’t respe—”
“Hey now, Pop, nice to see yous two chattin’ it up. Feels good.”
Angelo walked over grinning, and I damn near screamed at his bad timing.
“Yeah, well, this old man still has to go dig in the dirt. Got a few money trees that need bodies underneath ’em to grow. Finish that drink for me, son. I’m sure you two want to celebrate.” Don Cerzulo winked at me, straightening his suit jacket.
“Ah, maybe later. Give me a ride out, Pop. I need to see a man about a horse.” Angelo took his glass and handed it to me, smiling mischievously.
Huh, this fool ain’t want no ass? What the hell kinda shit is going on up in here?
Confused, I just stood there as he gave me a quick peck on the cheek before grabbing his things and leaving. I stared down at the rock on my finger, admiring it and hating it at the same time.
How the hell did I get myself into this bullshit? I wasn’t trying to marry this fool and have his babies. There was only one nigga I thought of like that and it was Rah. Only reason I even entertained Derrick’s ass was to show the nigga that somebody else would take care of home if he didn’t. I needed a Percocet or a Vicodin, somethin’.
My cell rang on the stand by the door. “Yeah,” I answered without looking.
“Are we meeting or not, my dear?” a woman cooed seductively in my ear.
Confused I pulled the phone from my ear. Of course, the number was unavailable.
“Meeting? I ain’t meetin’ nobody. I think you got the wrong number,” I snapped into the phone.
I scrolled through my contact list looking for Big’s number. I for real needed to talk to someone about all this marriage foolishness; maybe he could give me some kind of advice.
Pssssht. Whatever, you know yo’ ass just want that nigga to give you a reason to run away or creep on Angelo. All he gotta do is say the words.
Baby Momma 3 Page 4
