by Jerilee Kaye
“Every time my friends ask me what you do, I don’t know what to say. I mean, I can’t really tell them you go around Manhattan fast foods and bars, and write essays to get paid per word.”
“Mom, I’m not being paid per word. I’m actually doing fine. I think I’m one of the highest paid magazine writers in the world!” She rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure if that was true though. But she was paid quite well and she loved her job, even with Jada being her boss. Unfortunately, her family didn’t see it that way.
“And what’s this I heard about you buying an apartment? Kimmy said you got something located in a high-end street? What were you thinking? Do you think you can pay off the mortgage being paid per word for it? Your career’s not stable. You’re not even working for a top newspaper. You have to pray that enough vain women stay in Manhattan so you could keep your job. That’s not something I’d be proud to talk about with Troy’s mom.”
A tear rolled down Adrienne’s cheek.
“Mom,” she swallowed hard, trying her best to calm her voice, like she wasn’t affected by what her mother just said. “I’m running late for a meeting. But it was nice talking to you.”
“All right, dear. Call Kimmy one of these days. Congratulate her. I’m sure Troy will get into a good hospital as well since he’s spending time with Kimberly. She’ll give him a lot of pointers. Okay, bye.”
It was pointless to fight back the tears as soon as she hung up the phone. She’s had tried her whole life to win the love and respect of her mother. But no matter what she said or did, Kimberly was all she saw. She didn’t want to compete with her sister. But was it too much to ask for just a little bit of approval from the woman, who should have counted as her biggest fan?
She dialed Troy’s number.
“Hi, Yen. Have you heard the news? Kimberly just got into Massachusetts General. That’s so wonderful! I’m so proud of her.”
“Yeah, I heard.”
“My parents seemed so surprised. They didn’t know how smart she really was until now. They kept telling me what a lucky guy her boyfriend was going to be.”
Adrienne took a sharp breath. She felt like it was a mistake to call Troy. Now, she felt even smaller than she did a minute ago.
“Troy, do you wish that she was your girlfriend instead of me?” She couldn’t help asking. After all, her mother introduced Troy to Kim first, hoping they would hit it off.
Troy didn’t answer right away.
Ooopppsss! That wasn’t a good time to take a deep breath and think, was it, Troy?
Finally, he asked, “What are you talking about, Adrienne? Are you jealous of Kimberly? Is it because she’s getting a lot of attention and you’re not? Well, don’t let it out on me. It’s not my fault your sister’s doing great and that her future’s going to be brighter than yours.”
“Fuck, Troy! I was just asking. I just don’t particularly feel that you see the best in me! You don’t make me feel like you appreciate me. News flash! That’s what boyfriends do!”
“I love you, Yen. But if you want my honest opinion, yes, I’m not particularly proud of your chosen career. I think you could do better. All right? Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Adrienne couldn’t respond even if she wanted to. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She expected him to apologize and take back what he said. But instead, he said, “Let’s talk when you’re in the proper frame of mind!”
Then he hung up.
Adrienne stood in the middle of her living room, speechless. She felt the need to throw stuff across the floor, starting with the cordless phone.
Nobody appreciated her, and yet she had done nothing but please them. She had always been a goody-two-shoes because she thought that would make her mother proud.
She dated Troy because it made her mother happy. Now, she began to ask herself, did she really agree to go out with Troy because she found him interesting? Did she really fancy herself in love with him? Or was she in love with the idea of being in love with a guy that her mother totally approved of? Was Troy her boyfriend because he fitted the whole make-your-mama-proud charade she’d staged for over a decade?
Has she ever done anything to make herself happy? Or had she wasted away years of her life trying to please the people around her, who had no idea who she was and didn’t care at all about what would make her happy?
She looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes appeared swollen and she had tear marks on her cheeks. She still wore a pair of skintight jeans and a white Sabrina blouse.
Jacob arranged for an outfit for her to wear to the Gypsys opening but she hadn’t even opened the bag he gave her.
She replayed the conversations she had with Troy and her mother. She thought she felt sad, but more and more, she found herself angry.
She was angry at her mother for not treating her fairly. She was angry at her father for not standing up for her. She was angry at Kimberly for competing with her all the time. She was angry at Troy for not being supportive, for not seeing the good in what she was and what she did.
She was mad at herself for tolerating all of them…for letting herself down…for putting up with this crap for more than half her life.
When will I start putting up a fight?
She closed her eyes for a moment.
Enough!
She clenched her fists and thought, I’ve had enough!
She stripped off her pants and blouse right there in the middle of the living room. Then she opened the bag that Jacob gave her. She took out the pair of white Armani pants and the red halter top that Jacob prepared for her. The jeans hugged her hips to perfection and the top clung to her body snugly, yet comfortably. The back of the halter top was made of crisscross strings, giving a teasing hint of her bare back. The blouse didn’t allow for a bra, but the material was thick enough to make her feel comfortable. Finally, she wore a pair of red high-heeled sandals.
She stared at herself in the mirror. She looked different. She had to admit that Jacob had flair.
She got rid of her pony tail and combed her long straight hair. She put on black eye shadow and mascara and then accented her high cheekbones with a rosy pink blush and put on red lipstick. She wore the gold hoop earrings, glittery bracelet and matching necklace that Jacob arranged to compliment the outfit.
Once finished, she smiled at herself. She looked like a she-devil out on a hunt for blood. She realized that she could be hot if she chose to.
She took a cab to Gypsys. She decided that she didn’t care anymore. She tried her best and so far, her mother and Troy never looked at her differently. She would never be as great as Kimberly, and they would never respect her as much, so why die trying?
For now, she wanted to feel free. She wanted to do something adventurous for herself. She remembered that when she was younger, she carried this angst-ridden, haunted spirit within her. Her mother quickly dampened down any fire within her. Now, she wanted that spirit inside to come out. Even for just one night.
Just for tonight, she didn’t want to be the prim, proper, boring Adrienne her mother created. She wanted to explore. Be free, be wild! She would unleash that spirit that was screaming to come out.
Just for tonight, she would live in a way as farthest from Kimberly as possible. Because tonight, she would exist as her own woman. And she was hot enough, great enough being just herself.
She went to Gypsys on a mission. She silently thanked Jada for insisting that she come here and wear something daring. She wanted to kiss Jacob for having the perfect timing and the perfect outfit for her little rebellion.
She secured a place on the bar. Then she danced and drank. She didn’t care that she was alone. She felt free. She felt beautiful. She no longer acted just for the sake of writing an article about Gypsys. She did this for herself. And she didn’t care about what other people would say or think.
She ordered another shot of tequila.
“That drink is on me,” she heard somebody beside her say to the bartender.
&
nbsp; “I can pay for my own drink, chief,” she responded in an annoyed voice, looking up at the guy beside her.
Suddenly, the world stood still.
The guy looked down at her with the most mesmerizing pair of crystal blue eyes that she’d ever seen.
“I know. But still, that won’t stop me from buying you a drink,” he asserted confidently.
She didn’t reply. She just sat there and…stared.
He grinned at her, “You don’t look like the tequila type.”
She shook herself back to reality. “I’m not really. Besides, who are you to care?” She turned away from him and pretended not to know him.
His lips curved into a crooked smile. He extended his hand to her. “Justin Adams.”
She just stared at his extended hand. “Nice to meet you, Justin Adams.” She turned away to drink her tequila straight up. The world shook, but she held herself together. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of the City’s most eligible bachelor.
He pulled back his hand and motioned the waiter to get him a beer. Amusement seemed written all over his face. Then he asked, “Aren’t you going to tell me your name?”
Would she? More importantly, was he going to remember it? Guys like Justin Adams often pretended to be interested in a girl only to get into their pants. She felt a hundred percent sure he would never remember her or her name in the morning. So, it didn’t really matter what name she gave him.
“Jamila McBride,” she said. “You can call me… Jam.”
She was laughing at her own personal joke. He stared at her for a moment and then he smiled.
“It’s nice to meet you, Beautiful,” he said.
“What?”
“Jamila. It means beautiful in Arabic.”
“Whatever. Like I said, I prefer Jam, which means trouble or chaos in English.” She took another tequila shot straight up.
He raised a brow at her in amusement. She could see that his eyes practically danced with laughter. He must have realized that she had become a bit drunk.
He took one gulp of his beer. Then he asked, “Wanna dance?”
First, he introduced himself to her and now, he just asked her to dance. Any ordinary day, she would fan-girl scream, even if she didn’t want to. But she would die first before she admitted to him or herself that she was interested in him after all.
Without replying, she stood up from her seat and went to the dance floor.
He followed her. She thought that her night of freedom couldn’t be more exciting. What could provide a better addition to her rebellion than flirting with the City’s most eligible and sought-after bachelor?
She swayed her body to the music and let the beat take over. She didn’t touch him, she didn’t even look at him. It was as if she couldn’t care less that he existed even as he danced beside her.
When she turned around and faced him, she noted that he was staring at her intensely. Slowly, he put his hands on her hips and gently pulled her to him. The dance became sexier. They lost all need for words. Before she knew it, she had her arms around his neck and her body close to him the way it has never been close to any stranger before.
She was drunk and feeling rebellious. She didn’t care when he put his hands on her almost naked back. The minute his skin touched hers, she could barely contain the electrifying thrill that radiated from his fingertips to her spine.
How could I feel like this?
She’d never felt anything like this with Troy. She made out with him, they’d hugged a hundred times, but she never felt this electrifying intensity before. Not even once.
Before she could make a fool of herself, she pulled away from him and walked back to the bar, leaving him on the dance floor. She motioned for the bartender to give her another shot.
Justin appeared beside her and ordered another beer. She drank her tequila without taking her eyes off him. He took a gulp of his beer staring at her like she was his latest prey.
Now, she realized why her friends had told her that flirting was a mind game. They sat there staring at each other. Their eyes held out unspoken challenges.
He reached out for her hand and gently pulled her to him. She stood up from her seat and stood between his legs as he sat on the bar stool. He put his hands on her waist and pulled her even closer. She put her arms around his neck. Her world seemed to be reeling. He leaned his face towards hers and stopped to see if she would meet him halfway.
Oh, what the hell!
She would have her night of fun, her night of assuming an identity that wasn’t hers. The fact that Justin Adams began flirting with her on the night that she decided to explore other territories unknown to her made everything perfect.
So she met him halfway.
He kissed her gently. She wasn’t expecting that. He was a rogue. A playboy. He wasn’t known to be gentle. But his lips were soft against hers. For the first time that night, he took her by surprise. When he pulled away from her, he looked deep into her eyes, drowning her in those blue depths, while his hands gently caressed her spine.
Before she could fully burn, she pulled away from him and went back to the dance floor without looking back at him. He was hot on her heels like a predator stalking his latest prey.
This time, he made sure she danced with him. His arms encircled her and he would give her neck and shoulders butterfly kisses.
Adrienne never did anything like this before in her entire life. But she allowed him to flirt with her on the dance floor. She came alone, but now, there was no doubt about it. She couldn’t call herself alone anymore.
“I need to go to the ladies’ room,” she said to him and then she strode away, leaving him on the dance floor again. She walked away without a backward glance. She didn’t want him to feel that she had become eager for his attention. She didn’t want him to think that she was one of those girls pining for his attention.
She stared back at herself on the mirror. Her eyes were glittering. Her lips were red and her cheeks seemed to have acquired a permanent blush. She didn’t recognize the girl staring back at her, but she liked her a lot. She’s hot! And Justin Adams just kissed her.
For the first time in her life, she felt sexy, like she had unleased her spirits and colors. She glowed and she found herself capable of catching Justin Adams’s attention.
When she left the bathroom, she discovered Justin standing outside. He was leaning on the wall, with his arms crossed on his chest.
“What are you doing?” she asked him.
“Waiting for you,” he replied.
“Why?”
“Just wanna make sure you make it back.” He smiled almost innocently.
“To the bar? I got here by myself, chief. Of course I can make it back!” she barked in the haughtiest tone she could manage.
He shrugged and said, “Then I wanna make sure you make your way back to me.”
Major flirt!
But when she turned away from him, she couldn’t help the smile on her face. She was a novice in this game. But nevertheless, she could even win this.
They went back to the dance floor. This time, they were hugging and kissing more than dancing.
He brushed his lips to hers, provoking…teasing. Then finally, she gave in and he gave her one deep kiss.
All night, she didn’t think about her mother or Troy. She began to relax in his company. There was something about him that made her feel like it was okay to lose herself in him, that she could trust him. And she felt glad she decided to let go, even if it was for just one night. Someday, she’ll remember this, and it would always put a smile on her face.
She had eight shots of tequila. Eight shots of insanity. She felt she had accomplished a great deal for herself in just one night. She couldn’t remember having more fun than she did then. She felt like she wore a mask, lived someone else’s life, stole someone else’s identity.
“Thanks for the drinks,” she told him when he led her to the exit. She walked towards the line of cabs. She
didn’t wait for him to ask her for her number.
Fat chance!
Guys like Justin Adams engage in flirtations for one moment and forget about the girl the next.
She preferred that he thought she was immune to his charms. She didn’t expect more than a sexy dance, or a hot kiss. She wanted to dump him before he got the chance to dump her.
“Hey,” he called her. “Need a lift?”
She stared at him and lifted a brow. “In what?”
He pointed at his Ducati motorcycle.
“No thanks! I’m not too drunk. And besides, aren’t you drunk?”
“Compared to you, I’m perfectly sober,” he teased. She glared at him. Then he added, “I stopped drinking two hours ago. And I only had three light beers tonight. I think I’m way below the DUI limit.”
“I might be drunk. But I’m not crazy.”
“Come on. It’s not like Mommy’s going to see you or something.” His voice taunted her.
It was the right joke to get her to do anything!
God, could he read minds?
He sounded like he knew exactly which buttons to push.
Does this guy have any flaw at all?
She grabbed the helmet from his hand. He mounted his bike and grabbed her hand to guide her in climbing behind him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and braced herself for the ride. He started the engine and before he drove off, he took her hands and placed them around his abdomen.
“It’s safer this way, okay?” he said.
“Where-where are we going?”
She suddenly panicked. She cannot let him take her to her apartment. He will realize that they live in the same building! And she gave him a fake name. Tomorrow, Jamila McBride will cease to exist.
“Um…maybe we can get a cup of coffee in my apartment first,” he said.
Coffee? Or sex?
In any case, her heart hammered wildly in her ribcage and no matter how loud her brain screamed at her not to go, she heard herself saying, “Oh…okay.”
They drove fast. She felt nervous. It forced her to hold on to him tighter as she rested her head on his back. Being close to him like this made her feel thrilled yet safe. Crashing was the least of her worries.
