Nobody Can Love You Like Them Roughnecks Do 4

by Shvonne Latrice

Chuckling and making my way over to him, I stood between his legs. His hands glided up and down my hips slowly as he salaciously surveyed my body.

  “Can you just be okay with it this one time? You know it’s been hard for me to feel like myself, and this will be good for me.”

  “Let me come.”

  “No. No, you can’t come. The photographer is a gay man anyway.”

  “How you know he gay? You saw him sucking dick?”

  Laughing, I replied, “No, but he’s well known, and everyone knows he’s gay.”

  “I don’t know that the muthafucka is gay. He look straight to me.”

  “You’ve seen him?” I furrowed my brows, looking down at Belly.

  “Nah, but I’m sure the muthafucka ain’t gay. I’m a nigga, Blaise, and I know muthafuckas lie about shit like that so they can feel all up on you and shit. So I’m gon’ be there.”

  “Whatever.”

  I wasn’t gonna tell him the shoot time, so his ass was not gonna be anywhere! It was early anyway, so I was sure he would be knocked out. If he didn’t have to wake up to run, he usually slept until about 10 a.m.

  My phone buzzed, letting me know the car Belly called to drive me around in was here. It was late, and he didn’t want me riding by myself. It was either this or he’d pick me up, and I didn’t want the latter because I feared he would fuck someone up because he thought they were looking at me. It was sexy, how crazy he was, but this party was too important.

  “Bye, baby.” I kissed Belly, who was sitting on the bed with the two baby monitor cameras we had in Island and Cortez’s rooms. I then left to go check on my sleeping kids, before rushing out.

  The party was pretty far, because even with no traffic, it took forty-five minutes.

  “Would you like me to wait outside or drive around?” the driver asked as he helped me out of the truck.

  “You can drive around. I won’t make you wait. I will call when I am ready to go.”

  “Yes, ma’am, and I will be sure to stick close by.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Enjoy the party, Mrs. Khalil.”

  I smirked, hearing him call me that.

  Taking a deep breath, I tread up to the door where a big bouncer was, holding a clipboard.

  “Good evening. My name is—”

  “Blaise. Go ahead.” The bouncer smiled then marked it off on his clipboard. It felt good to not have to explain who I was.

  I slipped inside of the party, bobbing my head to the music. It was that pop song “Gold” by Kiiara.

  The mansion was beautiful with chandeliers everywhere. It was full in here, so I couldn’t see anyone I knew right away.

  Taking my phone from my clutch purse, I texted Ivory.

  Me: I don’t know anyone!

  Ivory: Look for Vanessa Mario.

  Ivory: Did you wear the Balmain dress? Versace didn’t send anything from the new season, so I hope you don’t have that on.

  Me: Okay and yes I did.

  I put my phone back up and then tread through the party, taking a champagne flute from the tray; one wouldn’t hurt.

  Finally, seated on one of the white couches in a pretty red dress with a high split, was Vanessa Mario. She was a Cuban actress who’d been in everything from classic Black films, to action movies with aliens and everything. She had so many awards it was ridiculous. I remembered wanting to be just like her when I was a freshman in high school.

  “I don’t mean to intrude, but I wanted to come and say hello. Also, thank you for inviting me to this party.” I walked up with my hand out.

  Vanessa had stopped laughing at whatever was funny, and then looked at my hand before standing up. Her dark complexion was even prettier in person.

  “Welcome…”

  “Blaise. Blaise Cansino.”

  “Right, yes. Sorry, I meet so many people.” She placed her empty glass down and said, “Anyway, I hug, I don’t shake hands.”

  She embraced me and then let go before grabbing a newly filled champagne flute.

  “So—”

  “Let’s walk around the party, shall we?”

  “Absolutely.” I followed her, giving a light wave to everyone else who’d been sitting with her. They looked peeved, but what the fuck was I supposed to do?

  “So you’re gonna be acting with me in Worst Case Scenario, huh?”

  “Yes, I am. I’m so excited. I’ve been watching you for the longest, so this is like a dream come true.”

  “You make me feel old. How old are you?”

  “I’m twenty-four. I will be twenty-five in the fall.”

  “Wow. I remember being that young. I was single, wild, and rich!”

  Together, we laughed as we continued to strut through the party.

  “Yes, well I’m not single or wild really, I guess. My money is very nice though, and my fiancé’s is even nicer.”

  “You had charges brought against you for assault; you are not all peaches and cream, sweetheart. You’re wild too.”

  That was embarrassing. Thankfully, no one knew I punched Tiana Strauss, Nichole, or all of Belly’s harem except Megyn. Damn, I wanted to whoop her ass, but she had me at the wrong time, and I felt like me flirting with Elias did enough to her fragile ego.

  “I guess I am.” I followed her up the winding stairs.

  “Your fiancé is that handsome boxer? The one who killed Mason.”

  “Umm, yes, he’s the handsome boxer. I don’t really like using the latter as a description for him though.”

  “I think it’s pretty bad ass.” She shrugged. “Also how he seems to not be bothered by the hate he got for it. I love a rebel.”

  “Yeah, he’s a pretty tough man.” I looked around the hallway we were walking down. “Your house is beautiful. Thanks for showing me around.”

  “I only throw parties here. I wouldn’t dare let these people know where I lived.” She entered a bedroom, and I paused. “Come on. I want to show you the view.”

  I entered with her and saw a man laid out on the bed in a tuxedo.

  “Oh, I’m sorry—”

  “No, Blaise, it’s fine. This is the director of the film, Bruce. Bruce, you know Blaise.” Vanessa pointed to me.

  “Nice to finally meet you.” I grinned at him. He licked his lips as his eyes cascaded down my body.

  “Wow, I cannot wait to work with you. You know, I have another limited series I’m doing, and you’d be perfect.” Bruce got off of the bed.

  “What’s it about?” I quizzed.

  “A very beautiful girl.” He circled me. “I could get you a lot of work. Yes, a lot. You are downright perfect.”

  “He really can, Blaise.” Vanessa came from looking out of the large window that took place of the wall. “You stick with us, and you will make a lot of money.”

  “Right. Well let me know when the auditions are.” I nodded, feeling uncomfortable but trying to remain professional.

  “Right now.” Bruce backed up. “It’s pretty easy. All you have to do is kiss your co-star.” He gestured toward Vanessa.

  “No, then I’m fine.”

  “Not into lesbian roles?” Vanessa raised a brow.

  “I’m fine with them, I just don’t want to audition such a thing in a non-professional setting.”

  “How isn’t it professional? I’m the director, and it’s just a little kiss.”

  “Yeah, nothing too much.” Vanessa rubbed down the side of my hip, but I pushed her hand away.

  “I’m going to go.” I set the glass of champagne that I’d never even sipped, down.

  “Come on—”

  WHAM!

  I hit Vanessa right in the mouth when she tried to grab my face and kiss me.

  “Get the fuck out!” Bruce hollered as Vanessa cried. “You will not be in the series! Not this one and not the one you’re already booked for! Get out!”

  WHAM!

  When he tried to force me, I punched him too, then quickly left the party. I was shitting my fucking pants wonder
ing if they’d sue me. I knew I’d lost the role, but I wasn’t about to sleep with them to keep it. Vanessa had ruined my view of her. And because I admired her so much, I wished I’d never met her.

  6 a.m.… morning of the Exposed shoot…

  I’d crept out of bed an hour and a half ago to head downstairs for my shower. I didn’t want to use the bathroom within the room, because it would wake Belly up. And if he woke up, he would try to come with me to the photo shoot.

  I had my baby boy, and Island was with her paternal grandmother, so I was good to go as I tiptoed out of the house. I giggled to myself because I knew how angry Belly would be that he couldn’t come.

  “You’re just such a cutie!” I cooed at Cortez as I buckled his car seat in the back seat. He was knocked out.

  I tossed my bag into the trunk and then rushed to the driver’s side of my Range Rover to hurry and get the hell out of here.

  As I jammed to my music, keeping it low so it wouldn’t bother my baby, I happily drove to the location. It didn’t take long for me to arrive, which I was thankful for.

  Getting my bag and my baby, I headed up inside to greet everyone.

  “Blaise, perfect timing. Alli will show you to your dressing room.” The assistant of the photographer Vicky greeted me.

  I noticed the photographer was looking strangely, like he was either bothered or afraid. I waved to him, and he just smiled softly.

  After Alli and the assistant cooed over my son, Alli led me away.

  “Just go ahead and change in there. It’s a bathroom and a closet you can put your belongings in. Also, a couch, plus a vanity where the makeup artist will come do your makeup.” Alli explained everything, then twisted the knob before walking away.

  I put my baby’s carrier down along with my purse then took a few things from my duffel bag. Walking over to the closet, I opened it so I could put the duffel up.

  “Ah! Cortez, what the fuck!” I jumped back as he slowly emerged from behind some robes hanging in the closet, like a serial killer.

  “I told yo’ hardheaded ass I was supposed to be here. But I knew you was gon’ try and sneak the fuck out.” He stepped out of the closet.

  “How did you even know the location?”

  “I hit that muthafuckin’ photographer up and told his ass if he ain’t drop them details, I would find out on my own, light this bitch up, and wouldn’t give a fuck if you was in here too.”

  “Ugh! I hate you!” I stomped my foot.

  “Watch yo’ fucking mouth.” He backed me into the wall then leaned down to peck me.

  We kissed for a moment, and then I pushed him off of me, slipping around him just as he went to check on our son.

  “You are just insane, you know that?” I dug through my purse.

  “Go insane in that pussy too.” He came up behind, pressing his dick against me.

  Laughing, I nudged him away. No wonder that damn photographer was acting like he’d seen a ghost.

  Belly

  “Be nice, Cortez. I don’t like her either, because I told you she was talking nonsense when we had lunch, but you have to remember she’s not all there,” Blaise tried to explain to me as we walked up to my mama’s door.

  Her ass called me crying and shit, because of course, my pops had gone ghost on her ass again. I knew once he returned, she’d be on her bullshit, so I ain’t even want to come over here, especially with my son.

  “She only claiming she’s different because that nigga ain’t fucking with her. I don’t want her stupid ass seeing me or my fucking kid until she gets her shit straight for real.”

  “I know, but sometimes horrible moms are good grandmothers. My mama is a phenomenal grandparent, but as a parent, she definitely could have used a lot of work over the years.” Blaise rubbed up and down my bicep. “She’s just really attached to your father, Cortez, and it’s hard to leave him behind.”

  “Whatever. Let’s hurry this shit the fuck up.”

  We walked up to my mom’s door, and I let Blaise knock since I was holding our son’s carrier.

  “Come in! Come in! Thank you for showing up!” My mama beamed.

  “Sure. Thanks for the invite. I hope this time won’t be like the last.” Blaise walked in and I followed, not saying shit.

  “No. I want to say I’m sorry. I was just upset that my husband was doing God knows what.” My mom was apologizing to Blaise but staring at me for sympathy.

  “We don’t give a fuck.” I sat down.

  “Typical Sagittarius men.” My mom laughed. “Hard for them to commit and hard for them to care.”

  “Cortez has no problem with either.” Blaise touched my leg as soon as I sat down on the couch where she was.

  “Right. Sorry. Can I see the baby?”

  “You can look, but don’t touch him,” I let her ass know.

  Nodding, she moved closer to look down at my son before a big smile covered her face.

  “He’s so beautiful. He’s surely a mixture of you two. That little brown complexion is to die for!” The way her hands moved, I could tell she wanted to pick him up, but she hadn’t earned that shit yet. “Hey, so maybe this can be a weekly thing or a bi-weekly thing? You guys can come over with the baby, I can make lunch, or—”

  “Nah, we ain’t doing that shit. You’ll see him when we want you to, and only when you ain’t dizzy as fuck over that husband of yours.”

  “Of course.”

  “Aight, I’m ready to bounce. Come on, Blaise.” I rose up.

  “Already?” My mom’s voice trembled.

  “Yeah, already. Me and my non-GED having ass got shit to do.” I opened the door for Blaise, and my mother stood there.

  “Baby, I didn’t mean that. You’re smarter than—”

  “Save it. What you say don’t mean shit to me. Keep ya tears for the nigga you care about.”

  Blaise slipped out of the door, and I followed behind, the baby carrier in my hand.

  “At least she saw him.”

  “Yep.” I opened the passenger door of the car for Blaise then proceeded to buckle my son in the back. “Appreciate you coming. I thought you had a table reading today?”

  “No, no. I’m not in that in anymore.”

  I finished buckling Cortez in then closed the door so I could see Blaise better.

  “Why?”

  “Just a change of plans.”

  “Fuck is you talking about? Shit like that don’t just change.”

  “The director doesn’t want me in the series anymore because I wouldn’t kiss Vanessa at the party. He emailed my manager/agent and told her I was still too fat, which is a lie.”

  “Oh, okay.” I nodded for Blaise to put her feet into the car so I could close the door.

  The next afternoon…

  I walked into the Beverly Hills hotel, checking the piece of paper I’d written shit down on. Once I verified the hotel room number, I tread to the elevator, hopping on. Shoving the paper into my slacks pocket, I stepped off once the elevator dinged and allowed its doors to part. I read the room number indicator, then made a left, walking to the end of the hall. Knocking, I waited for the muthafucka to answer.

  “Yes?” Some bald head Black nigga answered the door. He had a black eye, which made me smirk because I knew my baby had done that.

  “Bruce Jackson?”

  “That’s me. Did you need something? Who are you?” He ran off with questions as I walked into his room like it was mine. “Wait, wait!” He hollered when I snatched his ass up and slammed him into the wall. “Cortez Khalil?”

  “Or I can be yo’ worst fucking nightmare if you don’t put my wife back in that fucking series yo’ ass is shooting. Now a lot of shit doesn’t bother me, but fucking with my girl ain’t one of them. When I drop you, I want you to get yo’ crusty lipped ass on that muthafuckin’ computer and send every email you need to, or I will splatter yo’ insides on these fucking walls. You catching what the fuck I’m throwing?”

  “Y-yes, sir.”

&nbs
p; I let him fall, and he tripped trying to run to his laptop. Once he sat down, he lifted the top, but froze when he saw me strategically adjust my shirt to expose my heat. I removed the safety so he could hear it nice and fucking clearly, then watched as he got to typing while I read every word.

  “It was nice doing business with you, Bruce.” I covered my gun up once he was finished.

  “Right. You tell Blaise Cansino that we’re having another table read soon. I’ve already emailed her manager.”

  “Cool.” I started to walk off, but then got back in his space, watching him tremble like a leaf on a tree. “If you suggest anything sexual for my wife to do that ain’t being recorded on set, I will murder you. I’m talking Black Dahlia murder yo’ ass, to where muthafuckas won’t even know who did it, but you’ll be mutilated as fuck for the public to see.”

  Bruce nodded repeatedly.

  “No, sir. That won’t happen.”

  “Smart man.”

  WHAM!

  “Urgghh.” He held his face as he fell back onto the couch. He was about to have two black eyes.

  “That’s for trying to make her kiss that granny ass Cuban bitch.”

  I laughed on my way out after seeing his eyes widen from me standing over him.

  Just an hour and a half later…

  “Ah! What are you doing here?” Sylvia, my therapist covered herself as she sat in a bathtub full of bubbles. Thank God none of that sloppy Joe ass body was showing.

  “Sign me off so I can fight.”

  “You need to book a session. If you wait until I get out of the tub, we can—”

  “No, you just gon’ sign the shit.”

  I wanted a new fucking therapist, which I would get, but since Sylvia’s ass did my final session before the Mason fight, she had to be the one to sign off for me to fight again.

  “Okay.” She smirked, standing up and showing her naked frame. She thought she looked good as she stepped out of the tub, slowly grabbing a towel so I could see her body for longer.

  “Gravity got the best of you, huh?” I asked coolly, making her pause from being shocked. Bitch was shaped like a Time Warner remote, just with long ass cheeks.