Let Me Free You (McClain Brothers Book 4)

by Alexandria House

  “I love you so much. Just thought you should know.”

  I looked up at her and smiled. “I love you too, but you know what else I love?”

  “Uh, what?”

  “When you sleep in a tank top and I wake up in the middle of the night and one or both of your titties is hanging out of your top.”

  “Wooooooow.”

  28

  Sage glanced back at me. “You didn’t have to come, baby. I promise I can handle this by myself, or I could’ve hired someone to help me.”

  I adjusted the box I was carrying and shook my head. “Naw, I wanna help. Didn’t make sense for you to pay someone to assist you when I wasn’t doing anything today. Plus, you said this was a black event? Shiiidddd, I’m in here, baby.”

  “I figured that was what this was really about.”

  “Yeah, an exhibition hall full of black folks sounds like a good time to me.”

  “Mm-hmm, but this is a beauty convention, so it’s mostly black women, and I really don’t appreciate you wearing that.”

  “I had this t-shirt made special for this occasion. You don’t like it?”

  She glanced back at me as we navigated the maze of booths. “I love the shirt, Neil, but those pants?”

  I was wearing a red t-shirt with The Beatdown by Sage McClain printed on it in cursive black letters and figured red jogging pants would look good with it. And I was supposed to be working her booth with her, so I wanted to be comfortable.

  I explained that to her, and in response, she rolled her eyes. “Comfortable while showing folks my penis.”

  I gave her a lopsided grin. “Is that what’s responsible for your attitude? Shit, Superdick likes to be comfortable, too. The more relaxed he is, the better he can work you.”

  We’d finally made it to her booth, and as she sat the bags she’d been carrying on the table, she said, “But I don’t want other women looking at Superdick.”

  After setting my box on the table, I grabbed my wife and pulled her to me, kissing her neck and pressing my lips to her ear. “You want some Superdick before we start setting up? We can find a dark corner or a bathroom, and I can get rid of that attitude real quick.”

  She looked up at me with those almond eyes, grabbed the back of my head, and pulled it down to hers, kissing me while sliding her hand to my ass and squeezing it.

  I was exactly a tenth of a second from screwing her right there on top of that table when someone cleared their throat and Sage snatched her body from mine.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Akeemah, one of the organizers,” the short sister with a wild Afro said.

  “Oh, hi! I’m Sage McClain,” Sage said, shaking the woman’s hand. She’d switched it up from braids to a short cut she’d dyed blond, and in a little pink dress and sandals, my baby looked good enough to eat showing those thick thighs. Damn, I loved her!

  “And this is my husband, Neil,” Sage added.

  The woman offered me her hand, and as I shook it, she said, “So nice to meet you,” while letting her eyes drag over my body. Then she turned back to Sage. “Um, I just wanted to introduce myself and tell you how happy we are to have you as a vendor.”

  Sage moved a little closer to me, her eyes on the hand Akeemah was still gripping. “Uh-huh…can my husband have his hand back now?”

  “Oh!” Akeemah shrieked. “I forgot it was there. Well, let me get back to work.”

  “Yeah, good idea,” Sage muttered.

  After Akeemah left, I said, “Baby—”

  “I’ma have to deal with this shit all day. The curse of having a fine husband. Help me set everything up.”

  I chuckled as I started unpacking her equipment.

  Things were hectic but fun with Neil by my side. I was doing discounted makeovers—fifty dollars for a basic beat with foundation, mascara, and lip gloss. One-fifty for a full-on glamour beat—and it seemed everybody who passed by wanted me to work my magic on them. Neil took the payments and helped me keep my tools organized, and I was glad to have his help even though those women were testing every ounce of my patience by ogling him and flirting with him. The man was fine, but really? I mean, I was convinced the line forming at my booth was more for him than me, but hell, money was money and I wasn’t one to turn a dollar down.

  When there was finally a lull, I collapsed into the chair my customers had been taking turns occupying and closed my eyes. “Whew!” I breathed.

  “You good, baby? You gotta be tired; you been working nonstop since this thing started,” Neil said, scooting his chair closer to mine.

  “Yeah, I’m tired as hell, and my feet are killing me. I wore these shoes tryna be cute. Bad mistake.”

  He gave me a smile and patted his lap. “Let me see those feet.”

  “Don’t you need to scoot back some?”

  “For your short-ass legs? No.”

  “I ain’t that damn short, Neil.”

  “You’re short as hell. You’re the one who needed help climbing on a bar stool and shit.”

  “Why did I even tell you that? I was pre-drunk, Neil!”

  “Whatever. You’re short, and I love it. Now, let me see your feet.”

  I lifted my feet, placed them in his lap, and watched as he removed my sandals and began massaging my barking dogs. It felt so good that I threw my head back, and said, “Damn, that feels wonderful! Almost as wonderful as Superdick feels.”

  Neil chuckled. “Uh, thank you?”

  With my head still hanging over the back of my shoulders, I said, “You’re welcome. Hey, how much have we made so far?”

  “Uh, almost seven thousand dollars.”

  “In four hours?!” I shrieked, lifting my head to look at him.

  “Yeah, baby. You been running through these folks. Shit, you need to do stuff like this every weekend.”

  “For real, I do. Welp, I made that five hundred I paid for the booth back. Dang, that’s crazy!”

  “No, you’re crazy talented, and fast.”

  I shrugged. “Been doing makeup since I was in high school. Once I match the foundation up good, the rest is easy.”

  “That don’t look like you’re doing makeup.”

  I looked up to see that that quip came from Bridgette. Jo was standing next to her, and Oba stood behind both of them.

  “Girl, my husband is tryna save my feet. Y’all came to check things out?” I replied.

  “Yep, and I need my face beat. Ev is taking me out to dinner later,” Jo said. “Oh! I see you’re using the Mrs. South lip glosses! Represent, sis!”

  “You know it!” I hopped up and pointed to my chair. “Come on, girl. Let me hook you up.”

  I was halfway done with her face when I said, “Damn, your nose is wider. The last time that happened, you were pregnant—Jo! Are you pregnant?!”

  “What?!” Bridgette screamed. She was in Neil’s chair while he went to find me something to eat.

  “Huh?” Jo said, looking all crazy in the eyes.

  “Bitch, are you knocked again?!” Bridgette yelled. Oba’s eyes widened as he shifted on his feet where he stood right in front of the booth.

  “Uh…yeah?”

  “What?!” Bridgette and I shouted.

  “When were you gonna tell us?!” I added.

  Now people were slowing down or stopping, pointing fingers and cell phones at Jo. A couple of people tried to approach her, but Oba blocked them, pulled out his phone and typed something, and a few seconds later, Chink’s huge ass was standing beside him. I guess our little commotion was drawing attention to her.

  “Can y’all stop yelling? I just found out for sure yesterday. Four months.”

  Me and Bridgette pounced on her, hugging her and gushing our congratulations.

  Neil returned to the booth with two trays in his hand, and after I gave him the good news, he said, “Congrats, sis-in-law. Damn, I’m jealous. I want a baby, but Sage ain’t cooperating.”

  As I went back to work on Jo’s face, I rolle
d my eyes. “We just got married, Neil.”

  “No, it’s been eight months,” he countered.

  “Still too soon to be making babies, baby.”

  “Man, whatever. Since you got company, I’ma check some of the other booths out. I got us some vegan soul food.”

  “All right, thanks.”

  “He really wants a baby, huh?” Bridgette asked, after he left again.

  “Yeah, but I really don’t think I can do it right now. I’ma need my mama to get through that,” I responded.

  “Girl, stop. You got us, and as bad as that man wants a baby, you know he’s gonna be there for you,” Jo said.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’ma think about it,” I said.

  Neil was still AWOL when Jo and Bridgette finally left my booth, and his extended absence made me wonder if he was really mad about this baby stuff. So I texted him: Where you at?

  Superdick: Taking a dump. That damn chili dog I ate for breakfast fucked me up.

  Giggling, I replied: Your vegan ass shouldn’t have eaten it. I told you it didn’t make sense for you to eat a chili dog that early in the morning, but you were on that, “my body told me to eat a chili dog” shit.

  Superdick: I’m a pussytarian. Not a vegan. I told you that.

  Me: Whatever. I thought you were mad at me or something.

  Superdick: About what?

  Me: The baby thing.

  Superdick: How I’ma be mad about that? If you ain’t ready, you ain’t ready.

  Me: You sure?

  Superdick: Yeah.

  Me: Okay. Hurry and come back. I miss you.

  Superdick: Shit, I’m trying.

  Shaking my head, I shifted my attention to the action around me. There was a good turnout, and the place was noisy, but I liked the atmosphere, loved seeing all those fierce black women filling the space.

  Superdick: If I don’t make it off this toilet, I want you to know I love you.

  Snickering, I replied: Ummmmm, I love you too?

  “Sage McClain?”

  I looked up and almost fell out of my chair, but instead, hopped up and with wide eyes, said, “4C Angie?!” Okay, so I yelled it, but I couldn’t help it! I’d met her before, but that was one of those events where I had to stand in line just to say hello to her. Not this! Not her approaching my booth, because I didn’t even have a booth at that event.

  “Yes! Look, so many gorgeous women have been showing up at my booth telling me you did their makeup that I had to come meet you! Do you have a YouTube channel? How have I never heard of you?!”

  “Uh, um…no. No YouTube channel. I just…I have a salon where I do makeup—The Beatdown, that’s the name of my place, and I can’t believe you’re here talking to me! I mean, we met once at another expo, but I know you don’t remember that because there were tons of folks in line to meet you that day. God, I love you so much! I’m a HUGE fan! OMG!!” I rambled.

  “Shoot, I’m a fan of your work! You are so talented! I’m sorry I don’t remember our first meeting, but I’m glad to get to really meet you now. Hey, Ryan and I will be in town for a few more days. Do you live here?”

  I nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “Let’s get together, shoot a video. Let me give you my number…”

  Minutes later, I was furiously texting a still-shitting Neil what had transpired between me and 4C Angie when I heard a voice say, “The Beatdown by Sage McClain…so you took his name, I see.”

  Emery.

  Her eyes were on the banner that hung on the front of the table.

  It was a beauty expo, so I should’ve expected her to be there since she was a hairdresser. But still…

  Bitch.

  Setting my phone down on the table amidst neatly situated brushes, palettes, primers, lipsticks, lip glosses, foundations, and highlighters, I said, “Well, he’s my husband, so…”

  Her eyes narrowed. I guess she didn’t like that.

  Good.

  “About that. Can I speak to you candidly for a moment?”

  “I have no idea what we could possibly have to talk about. My husband? I don’t discuss him with people, so you can take your thirsty ass on.”

  “Thirsty?” she scoffed.

  “Mm-hmm. You didn’t want him, but now that you see he’s happy with me, you wanna change teams again. Nope. Not happening. That man loves me, and I love him, so you can move right along. Bye.”

  “He might love you, but I know he loves our child more.”

  29

  Sage was different when I made it back to her booth—quiet, almost sullen. Sure, she’d chat with the customers, still did a phenomenal job doing their makeup, would respond when I talked to her, but something just wasn’t right, and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. Shit, she didn’t even seem excited about the ten thousand dollars she made in one damn day. She’d said that was her first time vending at an event of that size as opposed to being an attendee, and as incredible as the results were, she kind of just shrugged when I gave her the total take after I added up the cash and credit card transactions.

  The same applied to her when we got home. She was even quiet during sex, and later that night, I woke up to the sound of her crying.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, pulling her to me.

  She sniffled, burying her face in my chest. “You ever know you had to do something, that it was the right thing to do, but that your heart would break if you did it?”

  “What are you talking about, baby?”

  “Nothing. I just…I love you so much.”

  “You know I love you, too.”

  “I really do know that. I feel it. I feel your love for me every day. Thank you for loving me, Neil. You are so much more to me than you’ll ever know.”

  “I feel the same way about you, baby.”

  “I want you to be a father. I know how important that is to you.”

  “It’s important to me, but I can wait. I told you that. When you’re ready, I’ll be ready. Is that what you’re upset about?”

  “I just…I wanna do the right thing.”

  “You’re doing the right thing by loving me. That’s all I need from you. We ain’t never got to have a baby. I just need you. Okay?”

  She nodded and hugged me tightly.

  I held her for a few minutes, then shifted her onto her back and rolled over on top of her, settling between her legs. Her eyes were glued to me as I kissed her, reaching between us and finding her clit. She flinched when I squeezed and rubbed it, gasped when I eased inside her, and whimpered as I loved her until we were both damn near boneless.

  And then I fell into the sweetest sleep with her in my arms.

  *****

  The next couple of days she was still quiet, melancholy, and I didn’t know what to do about it. I hadn’t meant to make her feel pressured about the baby thing. Shit, I was fucking this thing up like I fucked everything else in my life up, and no matter how I tried to reassure her, my words didn’t seem to penetrate.

  Four days after the expo, she left early in the morning to film a makeup tutorial in her salon with her shero, 4C Angie. So to celebrate, I bought her dinner from her favorite soul food restaurant, lit some candles, put on some romantic Big South music, and waited for her to come home where I was going to feed her and then show her my love with my whole damn body, but she didn’t come home that night, or the next night.

  I was about to lose my mind. I couldn’t figure this shit out. It’d been three days since Sage left for work and didn’t come home. She hadn’t been to her salon, either. I knew that, because I’d been stalking the hell out of it. Jo and Bridgette hadn’t heard from her or seen her. I’d even been to their houses, hoping maybe they were hiding her for some reason. I was acting so damn crazy, both Nolan and Everett separately threatened to have me committed but calmed down when they realized my damn wife was missing.

  Missing.

  Shit.

  On the fourth day, Jo was finally able to get in touch with her and found out she w
as okay, but when she asked her where she was and why she’d disappeared on me, Sage told her she was doing what was best and that no one needed to know her location.

  Doing what was best? Best for who? How was us being apart best for anybody?

  I didn’t understand what was going on. I was confused as hell, my fucking head hurt, and my heart felt like someone had shoved their hand into my chest and was tying that motherfucker up in knots. I needed my wife or I was going to fuck something up, do some crazy shit like climb out of my truck and walk in the liquor store I was sitting in front of and get pissy drunk.

  Bourbon was my poison of choice. I loved it so much, I even drank bourbon-infused coffee when I was at my lowest. Bourbon was my best friend, my only friend for a time. Shit, if I closed my eyes, I could smell it, taste it, let it warm me and numb me, because being numb was better than this. So I did that. I closed my eyes, imagined I had a bottle of Jim Bean or Evan Williams or Hahn. Imagined I was drowning my sorrows, diluting my pain, and washing away the fucking tears I was crying.

  One bottle. That was all I needed. One bottle would knock my ass out quick since I’d been sober all these months. It would knock me out, make me forget how much I loved Sage, how much I missed her, how much I needed her.

  Just as I said fuck it and decided to get me that one bottle, because getting drunk couldn’t fuck me up any more than I already was without my damn rib, my phone rang. I snatched it off the passenger seat and checked the screen, hoping, wishing it was Sage, but it was Leland, whose calls I’d been ignoring like I’d been ignoring everyone else’s calls. But something told me to pick it up. Leland was the one brother who always checked on me no matter how bad I was messing up.

  “Hello?” I mumbled into the phone.

  “Hey, man…you good?” he asked. I could hear Little Leland talking in the background. He was talking good to not even be three yet.

  “No, I definitely ain’t good, man.”

  “Yeah, I know. Ev told me about your wifey. Still haven’t found her?”

  “Naw, man. She don’t wanna be found, and I wish I knew why because I miss the shit out of her.”