Giselle,
I don’t even know where to begin. The letter is typed for that reason. I wrote the first ones, but then edited so many times. I tore up so many sheets of paper, that I figured this was the best way. I wasn’t going to write at all. I was just going to send you the money. But I have so much to say. If you never read it, that would be your choice, of course. But I’m hoping that you do.
My life as I knew it is so over. It’s all my fault. I thought I had met the man of my dreams. That’s how he presented himself to me. He wined me and dined me. But that was up until I went against everything, I said I would, and slept with him. It happened way too soon, and just as quickly, his mood changed. He was a very different person than I had been dealing with. It wasn’t long after that, that I found out he was selling dope, had numerous women, and was abusive. I regret lying to you, but I had no choice. He was parked outside your house the day I came by. Up the street a bit, but he was there.
The night at dinner when he acted the way he did, it was on the heels of him finding out that I had an ongoing “arrangement” with Trevor. I’m ashamed for what I’m about to tell you. And some of it you might already know about. What I had with Trevor was more of a working relationship. We serviced each other. And on occasion, I would service clients of his. Please don’t side eye me even more. It’s not as bad as it sounds. When you told me about your escapade, I almost told you then. Felt you would understand. But then I realized how different the situations were. Mine was paid sex. But I enjoyed it. It gave me something else to do besides that dead-end job of mine working for narcissistic-ass white men. Dealing with their daily bullshit, and mistreatment. So, in the end, I ended up in 2 abusive relationships. One at work, and one at home. Only difference was where one was emotional abuse the other was very much physical. I couldn’t keep showing up to work with bruises. So calling in became frequent, and that job was lost. I had to rely on him and that was the worst position in all my life that I’d been in. I became the woman that I used to talk about. Dumb for a man. That was all me.
Up until Trevor identified his shooter as a white guy, I thought it was Reggie. He made so many threats. I was scared to fucking death, Giselle. Terrified of him really killing Trevor, and then doing something to me.
Anyway, I hope you can forgive me someday. For everything. Hell, I hope I can forgive myself.
I didn’t realize I was so weak. Almost desperate. I didn’t even know myself when I looked in the mirror anymore. I prided myself on having my shit together in the head. When something that unhealthy enters your space, it makes you look at yourself in a whole new way. I was faulting that man. But I have to look at myself and explain to myself how I ended up here.
I would sign, “Your friend, Kameelah”. But I’m not even sure you will ever consider me that again. Thanks for the friend that you were to me.
“It’s not your fault…” I whispered, subconsciously.
“Baby…” Zane said, calling out to me. “Is she okay?” he asked, in the softest voice I’d ever heard him speak in.
“I… I can’t tell. This letter is loaded. With a lot.” I mean, there’s so much in here.” I looked up at Zane, whose face had so much concern over it. “I’ll tell you all about it… and some other stuff… when we get home.”
“Home? Did you say, ‘home’?”
“I did.”
“Come here,” Zane said, pulling me to him in a hug that filled my heart.
He is love, and love is what created the life growing inside of me. I couldn’t wait to tell him. A single tear fell from the corner of my eye. But it was happiness. Happiness… that I’d found happiness after all the pain.
EPILOGUE
“Miss CiCi,” the voice came over the speaker system. “Sorry to bother you.”
“Never a bother, Miranda. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve just finished placement in the entertainment area. Will you be needing anything else?”
“Hmm, not that I can think of. I’ve already peeked. The salads look amazing. So do your homemade bread sticks, and sweet potato fries. I think we’re good. I’m sure there’s nothing more that needs to be done. Oh, wait! Is the wine chilled?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“What about the vodka and scotch?”
“Everything is all set with regard to the libation, Miss. And your guests are set to arrive soon.”
“Perfect.” Just like me, Cicely said to herself, as her cook disconnected the two-way conversation.
She commenced to sizing herself up in the full-length mirror inside of her walk-in closet. Staring back at her was a 63-year-old diva in a 40-year-old state of mind, body, and soul. The long auburn main coifed in a thick halo braid, took years off her smooth brown face, the color of mocha.
The daily two-mile run around her private development, and yoga twice a week kept Cicely’s physique solid, and consistently at a size 8—two sizes smaller than she had been all her life, up until about 50. She felt like Maye Musk in the Cover Girl/Olay collaborative, when she said, “They say at a certain age you just stop caring. I wonder what age that is…”
And it was a good thing her youth was on deck because with the impending arrival of a new grandbaby, she would need all her energy for babysitting. She had already put her daughter on notice: “No grandbaby of mine is going to anybody’s daycare,” she had told her. There was no way that some money-hungry facility, or bible-toting hypocrite, who didn’t really give a damn about the kids in their care, was going to be in possession of her precious grandchild for 8+ hours a day. “Not as long as I’m breathing…”
So, now it was set. Cicely was about to be a babysitting GlamMa, and she was ecstatic.
She ditched the mirror several minutes later, applied dabs of perfume to her wrists, as well as behind her ears, then stepped into a pair of 4” vinyl sandals, with a clear block heel. They paired perfectly with the sleeveless white linen dress she wore.
Although the meeting she was about to have, was all business, Cicely always dressed to impress. On the way down the corridor, Cicely stopped to glance at herself once more before answering the chiming doorbell. She smiled. Right on time.
“Come on in, gentlemen,” Cicely said, allowing her guests inside the foyer of her home. She closed the door behind them, then sized up the six-plus foot of caramel-coated muscle standing in front of her. “In the words of Johnny Gill… My, My, My.”
“So, you approve?”
“Do I approve? Trevor, honey. You made a beautiful discovery. And look at you,” she said, rubbing Trevor’s arm lovingly. “Back to normal, and looking amazing.”
“Thank you, CiCi. You know that means a lot.”
“And you eliminated the problem as well, right?”
“That’s taken care of.”
“Perfect,” she said, pinching his cheek. “We can’t have anyone fucking with one of ours.”
“Not at all.”
“Well, you gave me quite a scare. I’m so happy that you’re home and healthy.”
“I appreciate you, CiCi,” Trevor said, hugging the woman who he had come to love like a second mother.
“Who should be thanking me, is that dumb-for-the-dick bitch, Kameelah. She brought him into the fold.”
“Where is she anyway?”
“She’s where she is. Let’s just call her ‘lucky’ and leave it at that.”
“Understood.”
“So, now, enough of ignoring our guest. Lewis?” she confirmed, addressing Trevor’s newest recruit.
“Yes, ma’am.”
CiCi looked to Trevor. “Ma’am? You didn’t school this beautiful specimen before arriving? Lewis, dear… there’s no ma’am here. Madame, yes. Ma’am. Absolutely never.”
Lewis and Trevor exchanged glances, with Trevor smiling and shrugging his shoulders. “Told you,” he remarked.
“You did tell me. My bad, CiCi. It won’t happen again.”
“I trust that. Trevor has said a lot of good things about you
. Looking like a thick-ass Lucious Lyon. I like.” She scanned him top to bottom once again. “Yes, indeed. I like. I can tell you’re going to be a huge moneymaker.”
“That’s the goal,” Lewis said, with a broad smile.
“Now that we’ve gotten the pleasantries out of the way…” Cicely led the way, her guests on her heels. “Let’s sit down to some really good healthy eats, a little bit of liquor, and prepare to talk business.”
RISQUÉ 3
(Trevor’s story)
Coming December 2019
OTHER BOOKS BY PERRI FORREST
SERIES
Dario Caivano (2-book series)
In the Ring: A BWWM Love Story
Rush Cambridge (4-book series)
Rapture: A BWWM Alpha Male Romance
Gavin Brooks (2-book series)
Special Delivery
Special Delivery 2
Love’s Awakening (2-book series)
Kennedy’s Awakening
Awakened Desires
Pandora’s Box (4-book series)
The Color of Lies
What Lies Beneath the Surface
Beautiful Lies
Crooked Lies
Risqué
Book 1 (Giselle & Zane)
Book 2 (Giselle & Zane)
STANDALONE NOVELS
The 4Mula (Conscious Fiction / AA Fiction)
Sexcapade: Affair at Nightfall (IR Romance / Suspense)
The Graffiti Effect (IR Romance / Suspense)
The Gift (AA Romance)
Last Night (IR Suspense)
Family Ties (AA Fiction / Love Story)
Beautiful Vengeance (AA Fiction / Love Story)
Destined (IR Love Story)
Captivated (IR Fiction)
Isa: Gift of the Baloma (IR Fantasy / Paranormal)
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(Website) https://www.perriforrest.com
(Amazon Author Page) https://www.amazon.com/Perri-Forrest/e/B00B6TH2L4
Risqué 2 Page 15
