by Anna Black
Chi-Town Bosses & The Women That Love Em 3
Anna Black
Contents
Chi-Town Bosses & The
Mailing List
1. Grace (Gracie) Jackson
2. Michael (Malice) Wilkerson
3. Grace
4. Malice
5. Gracie
6. Malice
7. Gabby
8. Gutta
9. Grace
10. Trina
11. Malice
12. Grace
13. Sylvester (Silky) Parker
14. Chas
15. Trina
16. Grace
17. Malice
18. Grace
19. Gracie
20. Malice
21. Grace
22. Malice
23. Malice
24. Gabby
25. Grace
26. Malice
27. Gabby
Chi-Town Bosses & The
Women Who Love 'Em
BOOK 3
MALICE & GRACE
By
ANNA BLACK
CHI-TOWN BOSSES & THE WOMEN THAT LOVE’EM 3
Copyright © 2019 by Anna Black
LOVE IN FOCUS and HEART ONE
Copyright © 2010 by Nakia R. Laushaul
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1
Grace (Gracie) Jackson
He opened the door for me, and I slid into the buttery leather charcoal seat. I took several deep breaths as he walked around to the other side of his GMC Yukon. It was super clean, and the smell of coconut penetrated my nose. When he got in, I asked. “This is a nice truck. Did you just get it?” I had only seen him in his security van a couple of times before, so I had no idea what he drove.
“Nah, not brand new, I’ve had it like a little over a year now,” he said and then pushed the button to start the engine.
“Well, it looks like you just drove it off the lot.”
“Thanks to Royal. I get it detailed often because I have them pick it up and bring it back to me, so it’s nothing to keep it clean.”
“Your brother’s detailing company does pick-ups too?” I asked.
“For certain clients and family, of course.”
“Can a sista get added to your friends and family list,” I joked. I was always so nervous around him, but somehow, I was starting to warm up to Malice. He just made it easy.
“It all depends,” he said, pulling out of the salon’s parking lot.
“Oh, really. On what?”
“How long you keep me around.”
I blushed. “Me?” I said, pointing to my chest. “Me, keep you around,” I countered. Did this chocolate masterpiece just say those words like the choice was all mine? Hell, I’d keep him around until the end of damn time. Michael was a taller, stockier version of his brothers Gutta, Rel, and Royal. They all resembled each other with the same low fade, full shaped to perfection beard, deep-set eyes, sleek brows, and gorgeous smile. Gutta, Royal, and Malice all had beautiful chocolate skin tones, but Rel was honey brown, and I knew he had inherited their mother's complexion when I met their parents at Gutta and Gabby’s wedding.
Splitting image of their father Samson, Malice was the largest. He was damn near six-five, and his physical makeup just was more abundant. When I initially met him, I was intimidated. He looked as if he could bench press me easily, and I was a whopping size eighteen, or a sixteen on my good days. I was the heavier sister but still looked like my mother and sisters. I was the lightest like my father and had inherited his hazel colored eyes. At first glance, you’d know I was Gloria Jean’s daughter because her features dominated our father’s in all three of us. My hair was long and hung past my shoulders, and it was crazy how some didn’t believe me when I’d say I didn’t have extensions. Like it was impossible for a black woman to grow their hair longer than their shoulders.
Although Gabby wore a natural curly fro, her hair hung past her shoulders and Gemma’s hair would be just as long, but she liked to keep it short. All and all, I wondered the same thing about him.
How long would he keep me around? I hadn’t been out on many dates or even had a serious relationship, to be honest, so if he were my first shot at love, romance, and sex, I would gladly take him.
“Yes, I mean, I see you always trying to be in the background and not say much, but I know you are a catch and I’m sure there is some competition out there trying to be your man.”
I giggled. “That is so far from the truth,” I said, being honest.
We stopped at the red light, and he looked over at me. “Somehow, I don’t believe that shit, babe.”
“Well believe it. I don’t get double-takes like Gab and Gem. Most of the time, I feel invisible when I’m out with the girls.”
“Really? Well, you shouldn’t feel that way. All of you, ladies are beautiful, and you stood out to me. Damn sure not invisible; no way a man could miss all that juiciness.”
I looked down at my handbag that rested on my lap. The way Malice spoke to me was too much, and he turned me on more than I wanted to admit. His words were always sweet and sensual, and I wanted to tell myself that he was bullshitting me, but from the very first night that we met, he was a gentleman and was the first and only man that always went out of his way to speak to me.
The first night that I laid eyes on him was at Passions. He and his brothers came in, and they did a quick introduction, but they didn’t join us. They all nodded a hello, then Gutta disappeared with them for an hour or so, and when he came back to VIP, his brothers didn’t return with him. The next time I saw him, he walked in for Chas’ party. When he handed my sister a gift for the birthday girl, I thought for sure he was interested in Chas.
He took a seat on the other side of Royal instead of the space that separated Royal and me. By that time Mari came back with the bottles. He and Royal went for the glasses, and when he scooped the ice and dropped the cubes i
nto the glass, he looked at me. “What are you drinking, Gabby’s light-skinned twin?”
I laughed. “My name is Grace, and I’ll take vodka and pineapple.”
He smiled a half-smile. “A girly drink as I figured,” he teased and cracked open the Cîroc.
“Oh, what is a woman drink?”
“I don’t know, maybe a Whiskey Sour or Apple Jack.”
“Oh, so white liquor is for girls and dark liquor is for women?”
“Would you like to exchange seats, because I don’t want to sit in between y’all convo,” Royal said. “I mean damn Mal, you could have taken a seat by her,” he said standing.
“Must you always behave like a toddler?” Malice questioned, and I giggled.
“Whatever. Slide yo’ ass over so I can crack open this Patron,” Royal said and went around to sit on the other side of Malice. Malice took his little brother’s advice and slid closer to me.
“Forgive my brother, his brain hasn’t caught up with his body,” he said. Royal waved a hand to dismiss what he said, but I smiled.
“You two sound like Gemma and me.”
“Gemma, Gemma, where have I heard that name before?”
“She is my baby sister. She wasn’t feeling well this evening, so she didn’t come out.”
“That sucks,” he said and poured the Cîroc over the ice cubes. “I don’t see pineapple juice, beautiful, but if that’s what you prefer, I can get some sent over here.”
I eyed the table, and my eyes landed on a carafe with red liquid. “I’m sure that’s cranberry juice, so cranberry will do just fine. You don’t have to send for anything.”
“Are you sure, because I’d go get it myself if that’s what it will take to see that beautiful smile of yours.”
Royal burst into laughter. “Man, you old heads crack me the fuck up. Y’all game lame as fuck!”
“Royal, go take a long walk around the club,” Gutta’s voice thundered, and we looked up to see Gutta standing over him. He and Gabby were over in the VIP next to ours fooling around with balloons a second ago. I had no idea they were back in our booth.
Royal stood like the order came from his father and just shook his head and vacated the VIP. My sister sat on the other side of me, and then Gutta sat next to her. They made drinks, and we chatted a little. Malice kept looking at me when he spoke like Gutta and Gabby wasn’t in our conversation. It made me really uncomfortable at first because I wasn’t used to that type of attention. I exhaled when Chas walked in, putting the focus on her. Gabby and I got up to dance with the birthday girl, and before I could take a seat, Malice asked me to dance.
“Who, me?” I asked like an idiot, and I wanted to punch myself.
He playfully looked around me and over my head. “Yes, you,” he teased. I laughed lightly and took his hand, then we went out to the dance floor. I knew how to get my boogie on, but I mostly did that in my living room mirror with my Corgi, Bistro, or in a group with my sisters and girls. With a man, though? Not in a long ass time.
When we got on the floor, we stepped, and I didn’t know why I was so nervous. I thought I’d trip, fall, step on his foot, or anything that would cause embarrassment, but thank God none of the above happened.
After two songs, the DJ quickly changed up the music to a slow song, and I was about to walk away.
“Where are you going?” he asked, stopping me in my tracks.
“Oh, you wanna slow dance?”
“Why not, do you have a man?”
I swallowed hard. “No, no, I don’t.”
“Well, dance with me,” Malice said with an extended hand. I put my hand in his and let him pull me in close. Our first slow dance was to Say So, by P.J. Morton and JoJo. I had only heard that song a couple of times before, and I liked it. I also liked the way he pulled me into his strong arms. He towered my five-foot-four body, but I rested my head on his lower chest area. I felt a tingle in my center and wondered if he was just a gentleman or if he really found me attractive. After that song, Jazmine Sullivan’s Let it Burn followed, and I stayed out there with him. We parted a little and moved side-to-side and two-stepped a little, and when he turned my body and pulled my backside into him, he felt so damn good. When he wrapped his strong arms around my voluptuous body, I thought I’d melt. When the party music started to play, and the DJ announced the birthday celebration for our girl Chas, the entire crew came out on the floor, and we all danced as I watched Chas drop it low like she was an exotic dancer. I hadn’t been able to drop it that low for that long, since never, but I still grooved with Malice and was happy to see his eyes were on me and not the show Chas was putting on.
After that song ended, Malice and I headed back to VIP, and I grabbed my handbag and went for my fan. I was warm and a little sweaty, so I grabbed a napkin to dab my forehead.
“You want another drink?” he offered.
“Yes, and thank you,” I smiled at him.
He gave me a smile back, and I thought he was a gentle giant. If he asked me to go to the moon, I’d go. He was kind enough to keep me company for the rest of the evening, and we danced, conversed and drank. When the night was coming to an end, I wanted him to ask me for my number, but he didn’t. I left with my sister and Gutta and didn’t see Malice until two weeks later.
2
Michael (Malice) Wilkerson
By the time we made it to the restaurant, I had Grace laughing. After she told me that she didn’t have brothers lined up to get with her, I could sense that she still wasn’t very confident and that was crazy. She was gorgeous: a juicy, plump sister with curves and I’ll admit a bit of gut, but I wasn’t afraid of that at all.
When I first laid eyes on her, I was like damn she looks so much like Gabby, but a tad bit lighter and them damn cat-like eyes she owned had me drawn in. I mean they had the same slant or almond shape as Gabby’s, but the light brown color with a mixture of black made them look straight up like cat eyes, and they were mesmerizing.
I could see she was plus-sized from where she sat, but I loved women, and weight never detoured me. When she smiled, I was like fuck, she is beautiful. Her hair was fluffy with wavy curls framing her face, and her hairline looked so natural, I couldn’t decipher if it were hers, sewn in or a damn wig, but I knew her eyes were hers because as I peered into them, I didn’t see that line that you’d see if you looked closely into someone’s eyes. She was very soft-spoken, and I liked her. I mean instantly I really liked her, but I didn’t want to come across as anxious or make her think for one second that I was a thirsty ass nigga, just trying to fuck. So, after we had a fun-filled night, I left without asking her for a number. I figured I’d see her again, so I played it cool.
Two weeks later, we all met up at Passions, and when I laid eyes on her, she was radiant. Her hair wasn’t all fluffed out like it had been during our last encounter. It was flat and straight, and it hung past her breasts. I wanted to do a scalp check, but I didn’t dare touch her head. I just eventually asked when we were alone. “Don’t cuss me out, but I have a question?”
“Okay?”
“Is all of this your real hair?” I quizzed. She spit some of her drink out in my face when she laughed and on my damn Ralph Lauren button-down.
“I’m so, so, so sorry,” she said, grabbing napkins to help clean me up. “I swear I didn’t mean to do that,” she continued to wipe at my face and shirt.
“It’s all good Grace, babe, relax, it’s okay,” I said wiping the corners of my eyes. I was shocked that she spit all over me, but at the same time, I thought it was funny, so I chuckled.
“I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be, I’m good, beautiful.”
“Again, thank you. I haven’t heard the word beautiful from any other man other than my father, so when you say it, it sounds almost believable.”
“Because you are.” She looked down, and I lifted her head by her chin. “I don’t know why no other man has noticed you enough to tell you so, but you are,” I affirmed.
> “Thank you, and to answer your question, this is all mine. No weave, no extensions. This is my hair.”
Still not convinced, I said, “Not store-bought or ordered online; therefore, I paid for it, so it’s mine.”
“Malice, it’s my hair, no weaves or store purchases. Chas straightened it for me earlier.”
“Okay, I want to believe you, but I must do a scalp check,” I said, and she burst into a fit of laughter.
“If you must, go ahead,” she said between laughs. I went all the way in and damn near massaged her damn scalp. She wasn’t lying; it was all hers.
“And your eyes.”
“Are you serious? I have my dad’s eyes, and no, you can’t poke me in my damn eye to verify.” She went into her handbag and pulled out her phone. She toggled to her pictures and then showed me the screen. “This is my father and my mom. I have Gloria Jean’s face and long hair, and my father Boris' eyes and complexion. My maternal grandmother on my dad side was white with gray eyes, and my granddad was black with light brown eyes, so my father and I got this cat-like color. In different lighting, people see different colors, but my eye color is natural. However, I do wear contacts to see with, but not to enhance or change the color of my eyes. Gab has brown eyes like my mom, and the next time you see Gemma, you will see her eyes are hazel, too. Not cat-like, but her eyes are light.”
