by Elle Wright
I parked in my garage and hopped out of the car. Once inside my house, I headed to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. A moment later, my phone buzzed. I eyed the display and answered. “What are you doing?”
“Girl, working,” Demi said. “I’ve been preparing this complaint for hours. Have to get it just right.”
I stretched my legs and arms and leaned against the counter. “Wait ‘til I tell you about dinner.”
“You know I want to know. I miss Maya. Wish I could’ve been there.”
“I needed you there. Before I start, though…did you do what you said you would do?”
“He’s not here right now. But his shit is outside. That’s a start, right?”
I shrugged. “As long as he doesn’t bring that suitcase back in the house with his patented sob story about his childhood.” I peeled a banana. “I have so much shit to do. I’m supposed to help Blake with her housewarming party this weekend, and I still haven’t been to the grocery store. I’m in charge of drinks.”
“Uh-oh,” she grumbled.
Frowning, I bit into my banana. “What’s wrong? Is he home?”
“No, but you have bigger things to worry about than drinks. Get your laptop.”
Dread filled my gut. “Why?”
“Just do it.”
I set the banana down and walked over to my desk. I wiggled the mouse and it powered up. Then, I entered the password and sat down. “What am I looking for?”
“Kimball Payne.”
Oh, no. I tapped the keyboard with my thumb. “Before I do this… Is he dead?”
“No. But you might kill him when you see what happened.”
I typed in his name and my heart sunk. “Fuck.”
“You have to call Skye, because you’re going to need a PR person. Now.”
My best friend wasn’t wrong. She was one hundred percent right. Kimball wasn’t the only name trending. Mine was too. I scrolled through pages of commentary about me and the status of my relationship with my ex. Pictures of us together littered the internet, memes created of the scene outside of the restaurant earlier. Instead of attorney Dallas Young, I was now Kimball Payne’s side chick and the homewrecker trying to ruin his marriage. Shit.
Three miles in sweltering hot temperatures was the perfect way to start my day, but it did nothing to ease my mind. The last couple of days had been a nightmare filled with retweets about my relationship with Kimball, nasty emails from fans of his wife, interview requests from reporters, YouTube vloggers spouting unsubstantiated rumors, and calls from concerned family and friends. Dex had nearly kicked a photographer’s ass yesterday because he’d harassed me all the way into the office. Even my father had had to tell some dude off for camping out near the gate of my parents’ home.
I wasn’t one to let anyone see me sweat, but I’d had my share of meltdowns in the privacy of my home since the news had broken. Nothing was how it should’ve been. I should’ve been on cloud nine, preparing to charm the board of Color of Law and negotiating cases for my clients. But I’d been inundated with mess.
After my run, I pulled up the weeds in my yard, mowed the lawn, and turned on the sprinklers. On my way into the house, I noticed a small envelope on the porch. Picking it up, I checked for a return address on the front and back. Nothing.
I walked into the house, dropped my towel on the floor near the door, and opened the envelope. Fury laced through my veins as I read the fancy script:
you are cordially invited to the wedding of
dallas young
and
her ho-ish ways.
I hope you’re happy! leave married men alone.
Hours later, I was still angry. So pissed that I didn’t bother to comb my hair or make sure my clothes matched. I just showered, then hopped in my car and drove to my sister’s house.
By the time I arrived at Blake’s new home, I was shaking with rage. Without knocking, I barged into the house, ignoring the stunned looks of my siblings.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dex asked, concern in his brown eyes.
“Good question,” my little brother, Asa, murmured.
I must’ve looked crazier than I thought, because Blake asked, “Dallas, what’s up with your outfit? And that hair? Girl, why are you looking like this?”
Letting out a frustrated sigh and a terse curse, I stalked over to Blake and smacked that stupid, fucking pseudo-invitation onto the counter. “Here.”
She picked up the piece of paper and read it. Her eyes widened. “I’m so confused.”
“I’m getting married.” I closed my palm over her mouth. “No questions. I don’t want to talk about it.” I scanned the worried faces of my family and fought back tears. “I mean it,” I croaked. “Not a word.”
A knock on the door drew my attention there just as my parents entered the house. And I knew I had to get out of there before the dam broke and I turned into a blubbering fool. I heard Blake call my name, but I didn’t have it in me to answer any questions. So I told her I needed her to get me together, and I headed straight for her bedroom.
“Sissy?”
I glanced at Blake, who’d been working in silence, fixing my hair and putting light makeup on my face. She’d given me an outfit. Well, it was really my outfit that she’d borrowed months ago, but still… And she’d waited for me to talk.
She hugged me. “It’s going to be okay.”
I snorted. “You’re so sappy now.”
I’m not,” she argued. “I love you.”
“Oh God, stop.” Blake had met Professor Lennox Cole right around the time Bliss had given birth to my niece. Then, she’d fallen in love with him and had bought a freakin’ house. We were the most alike, even though she and Bliss were twins. While I was extremely close to all of my sisters, I spent the most time with Blake. “First, you turned all soft on me. Now, you’re hugging me and telling me you love me.”
She shrugged. “It’s true.”
My eyes burned with unshed tears. “I’m just angry. I’ve spent my whole life flying under the radar, laser-focused on my career. And this fool ruined everything with one unwelcome visit. I want to fuck him up.”
“Dallas, you can’t see this now because you’re so angry. But you’re not ruined. It’s one setback. You’ll fix it like you fix everything else, because that’s what you do. You’re the fixer.”
I rested my head on her shoulder. “And you’re the fighter.”
“Damn right. Say the word, and I’ll kick Kimball’s big ass, weak ass, no-touchdown-getting ass, heart-emoji-sending ass up and down Woodward Avenue.”
I laughed. “I can’t with you.”
“I’m so serious. And that invitation? Let me find out who sent it.” She smacked her right fist against her left palm. “They can get beat down too. On sight. Nobody calls my sissy a ho.”
“You called me a ho before.”
“That’s because you broke the leg off my brand-new Barbie doll. I loved that thing.”
Blake had been begging for that doll for months. It’d been an accident, but she’d hated me for a few days after that. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m sorry for that?”
“Until you mean that shit.”
“I’m sorry.”
She bumped my shoulder. “It’s okay. You’ve paid me back in lots of clothes since then.”
“And shoes,” I added.
I let out a huge sigh. “I have to get myself together.”
Blake stood. “I’ll leave you to it. But when you come out this room, you’d better be ready to party. We’ll tackle Kimball and the hot mess he created later.”
After she left, I sat with my thoughts for a moment. The anger subsided a little and I jotted down a list of things to do first thing on Monday, starting with a plan of action and ending with a conversation with Maya. It was time to take control and fix my life.
Chapter Two
All Falls Down
Preston
Ending the day with fu
ll lips wrapped around my dick was just what the doctor ordered. The only problem was I couldn’t concentrate on my nut, because my phone wouldn’t stop ringing. I set my phone down next to me, rested the back of my head on the couch, and tried to get my head back in the game.
“Baby, are you okay?”
Baby? I glanced down at the beautiful woman, perched on her knees in front of me. Tabatha was her name. I couldn’t remember her last name, though. Byrd…no, Burks. I ran my fingers through her hair. “I’m fine. Just work.”
The call from my construction manager earlier in the day had set me off. Instead of finishing up an important project, we’d had to extend our timeline several months because of material shortages and flooding due to a week of severe weather. As if the day couldn’t get any worse, one of our clients lost their funding on a future project, and the City of Detroit hadn’t approved the contract for the new affordable condominium community. Since then, things had steadily declined and would probably be worse tomorrow.
“Well—” she leaned up and kissed me softly, “—maybe I can help? I’m a good listener.”
She was sweet. Really. We’d met a week ago at the casino. After we’d played Blackjack, I’d taken her fine ass to the hotel. So, when she’d called and asked me to meet her at Greektown tonight, I’d assumed it’d be more of the same. Not sure how we’d graduated to terms of endearment. And talking about my life, my business? Not gonna happen.
“Preston?” she called, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Want to talk about it?”
Tabatha had said the magic word again. Talk. Still bothered by how comfortable she was and how uncomfortable I felt, I stared at her. For the first time since I’d arrived at her place, I wondered why I was there. She wasn’t my first random hookup, but real talk…I’d grown tired of the same ol’ shit. Different woman, different day. Fuck now, question everything later. I’d done my fair share of that in my twenties and now that I was pushing on forty’s door, that behavior wasn’t as satisfying as it once was. My life was about business, building my empire, making moves. Not this.
“Or I could always keep your mind off work?” she suggested with a wink, squeezing my dick.
My phone buzzed, breaking through the do-not-disturb setting, which more than likely meant something was wrong. Before I could pick it up, the phone vibrated again. Shit. I snatched the device and fired off a quick Give me a minute text.
“Are you okay?” she asked again.
I flashed a quick smile before I stood, pulled my boxers and my jeans up, and picked up my phone. “Not really.” I scowled at the message I’d received. “I should probably get outta here, though.”
The soft, concerned look in her eyes transformed to an annoyed and angry glare. “Hell nah,” she shouted, standing to her feet and kicking a throw pillow. “What you not gone do is come in my house, let me suck your dick, and—”
“You didn’t suck my dick,” I clarified.
She rolled her eyes and flipped me off. “Whatever, muthafucka. You’re not going to bounce on me like this. I don’t know who the fuck you think I am.”
I stepped back, surprised by the outburst. Up until now, Tabatha had portrayed herself as a mild-mannered good girl. Granted, I hadn’t known her long, but she’d made it a point to tell me that first night that she didn’t “do this often,” which had given me pause because it’d seemed a little disingenuous. Especially since she was the one who’d asked to come back to my place. She’d also mentioned she didn’t cuss because of her dead grandmother. And, supposedly, she abhorred violence. In less than a minute, she’d proven she was full of shit. Which made my decision to walk out the best one and reaffirmed I should always follow my instincts.
Tabatha snapped her fingers in my face. “Hey, you. Did you hear what I said?”
I let out a slow, deep breath and walked to the door. She followed me, calling me every type of punk, asshole, and muthafucka in the book. “Have a good night.”
“This is some bullshit,” she growled. “I told my homegirl you wasn’t shit.”
Turning to her, I shrugged. “In that case, it’s a good thing I’m leaving. Right?”
“Straight up? Lose my fuckin’ number.”
On a normal day, I considered myself to be a patient man. But she’d definitely tried my patience today. To avoid saying something I’d regret—because I wasn’t really an asshole—I opened the door. “Done.”
“Wait?” Her tone changed, turned desperate. She grabbed my arm. “Please don’t go. Can we talk about it? Finish what we started?”
Not only was Tabatha a liar, she was crazy as hell. Or a narcissist. Or both. “Let’s not do this,” I said, keeping my voice even.
Once again, she switched up. Now, she was baring teeth. “Fuck you,” she yelled, smacking the wall with her palm. “Punk-ass b—”
A door opened behind me, and I wasn’t surprised that Tabatha’s rage-filled rant had drawn the attention of a neighbor or two. An older man poked his head out. “Is everything alright out here?”
Before I could answer, a flip-flop whizzed by my head, nearly hitting me. “Fine.” I ducked when the other shoe flew over my head.
“Go back in your apartment, Daddy. I’m handling this.”
Daddy?
“You better handle it, because I have to get up to go to work in the morning,” the man said. “I told you about having male company, anyway. I’m paying for you to live there.”
“Please!” she shouted, pointing at his door. “I’ll come see you in a few minutes.”
“Bring some food.” The man slammed his door.
There was so much wrong with this situation, but I didn’t have it in me to ask any questions. Whether the man was her biological father or her sugar daddy, I’d never know.
“Preston?” she called.
I stared at the closed door of her neighbor, then back at her. Without another word, I left her standing there, fury in her eyes.
My phone buzzed yet again when I finally made it to my truck. “What’s up, bruh?” I answered.
“Work,” Cooper said. “What’s the word?”
“Shit. You all packed?” Cooper and I owned Prescott-Hayes Construction. We’d been in business for years and had amassed a small fortune and earned a stellar reputation in Southeast Michigan. Recently, he’d decided to move to his hometown of Rosewood Heights, South Carolina to help run his family company and be with the woman he loved. While it wasn’t an optimal choice, considering our business was busier than ever, I understood his decision. For the first time since I’d known Coop, he was happy. And I was happy for him.
“Almost. Did you see the email from the city? They sent it a few minutes ago.”
After I started my car and it connected to Bluetooth, I checked my work account. The approval email was a welcome surprise after the day I’d had. We’d finally received the approval for the condominiums. Construction would start soon. “Just read it,” I told him. “Good news.”
“Definitely,” Coop agreed. “I figure I’ll fly back before we break ground.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I finally pulled out of my parking spot and headed toward I-94. “Remember that woman you met in that bar in Thailand?”
He groaned. “Hell yeah. I still wonder how I got out of that unscathed and injury-free.”
I laughed, grateful for the calm before the upcoming storm. “Barely.”
Joining the Marine Corps saved my life in many ways. Aside from the occasional field trip or family reunion, my world had pretty much consisted of my block, my school, and my job. While I hadn’t been thrilled about enlisting, I’d done it to escape the environment that had once—and sometimes still did—felt like a chokehold around my neck. Spending my late teenage years overseas had changed everything for me.
Building a strong brotherhood had played a major role in my transformation from boy to man. Cooper and I had met while we’d both been stationed in Germany. Our backgrounds weren’t that similar. He’d grown up the second old
est son of the richest black family in his hometown, and I was the only child of a father who’d died too soon and a mother who’d…lived. But we had one thing in common: anger. Him at his father, and me at mostly everything. Over the years, we’d shared a lot about our lives, from childhood crises to busted relationships. I’d even taken a bullet for him. But he’d saved my life on more than one occasion.
“I just told Angel about that a couple of weeks ago,” Coop said.
“I hope you told her the whole truth.”
“Every fucked-up part, man. Had her cracking up. Why you thinking about that shit?”
Tabatha’s outburst earlier had immediately made me think back to Thailand. Until he’d met Angel and her son Mehki, Coop had consistently made bad choices in women. But LaLa had been the worst. She’d terrorized him from the time we’d landed in Nam Phong to the time we’d departed. “Let’s just say, I could’ve suffered the same fate,” I confessed.
“Whoa, bruh. I don’t wish that on anyone. I’m telling you…run.”
“You know I’m not playin’ no games. Had to get the hell up out of her apartment.”
He barked out a laugh. “I’m not even gonna lie. I’m glad those days are behind me.”
“Me too. Hopefully, your bar fight days are behind you too. Angel is not about that bail money life.”
“Damn, you’re right about that. I can’t even imagine having to explain that to Mehki.”
My phone beeped, and I peered at the SYNC display before declining the call. “Shit,” I muttered.
“What’s up? She chasing you?”
“Nah.”
“You might want to take an alternate route. Don’t want her to follow your ass home.”
I peered out the rearview mirror, his words echoing in my mind. The last thing I needed was a stalker. “I’m good. She’s probably fucking her daddy right about now.”
“What the hell?”
I shook my head. “You don’t want to know,” I murmured.
