by Love Belvin
Pinch me. Please.
Actors, athletes, singers, television hosts… The gamut of black power in one small section of a club in Philadelphia. I had to get used to this, I knew. My husband—as down to earth and everyday as he may have been—was not your ordinary man. Yes, he was from Camden, New Jersey, arguably one of the poorest cities in the country, but he’d been a NFL’er all of his adult life. He may have spoken the tongue of the downtrodden metropolitan, but he earned the king’s ransom in his short life. These were his peers.
“You’s a groupie. A cute one with a fat ass and tits, but just a groupie. So when he get tired of ya head game, the clothes, pocketbooks, and shoes gone stop.”
My stomach toiled with anxiety and head spun with doubt. Quickly, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the floor bumping beneath me.
“Jade?” I glanced up to an oncoming beauty in a gray cat-suit and high-heeled booties. Her face was impeccably made up with smoky eyes and cherry red glossy lips. “Hey, girl.” She greeted me with a warm embrace.
Cole…
She stepped back, smiling down on me familiarly. I noted the cosmo in her hand. I couldn’t help but gawk at her compellingly fit shape. A shape I couldn’t recall seeing before tonight. Cole’s body was envious: curvy and bountiful, but not overly ample and scandalous in the one-piece.
“He-heey!” I stammered, unable to peel my eyes from her. I don’t know why I was so surprised by her presence. I’d been accustomed to seeing Cole dressed professionally—and even femininely—but this… Cole had always been about business. She was the woman I was not, but admired because of her ambition, accomplishments, and confidence in a male-dominated industry.
She turned, sashaying during her journey as she giggled sexily. “Does it meet with your approval?”
“My approval?” I asked, stunned. As if she needed that. “You’re effortlessly flawless!” I breathed. “Who knew you were packing all that?”
Her shoulders lifted with innocent bashfulness. “That means a lot coming from you.”
Though she meant that in all sincerity and good nature, it stung. Cole had the total package. We were in different leagues. And while I could only aspire to reach her status, the only thing she could compliment me on was my bootyliciousness, which had me feeling inferior. But that was nothing new. I was still working on me.
“Jade, stop!” she shrieked with a broad smile, grabbing my shoulder. “You’re going to have me wear this to my Monday staff meeting,” she joked. “You really like?” She waved her hand beneath her chin, referencing her makeup.
Cole was proud of her sultry look. And I was… Damn impressed.
“If you wear this for the rest of the night, you’re going to be knocked up before the meeting!” My dazed expression wouldn’t fade as I ogled her.
Cole giggled more—genuinely. She’d been nothing but warm and welcoming to me since our first encounter when I thought she was a bourgeois groupie at Trent’s condo in Connecticut last fall. Imagine my embarrassment when I learned not only was she in management, but she was the love interest of Jordan Johnson, one of Trent’s closest friends—and his absolute best bud on the CK roster.
Cole’s eyes suddenly grew big as saucers when she glanced over my shoulder. Then I felt a clutch at my waist. “Hey, TB,” she playfully greeted him.
“The soon to be Mrs. Johnson,” he returned while bending over me to greet her with a cheek embrace. “What’s good?”
“I’m sooo glad to see you here!” she announced over the music with a closed fist, squeezed lids, and all teeth. “I bet you haven’t heard I’ve been reassigned.”
Over my head, Trent’s face tightened. My eyes followed his line of sight.
Cole giggled again, unable to contain herself, it seemed.
“I’m your new Assistant Director of Player Success!” she cheered.
That’s when I noticed the slant in her eyes. Cole was tipsy. I fell into a giggle myself. No. She was niceeeee. I had no idea what an Assistant Director of Player Success was, but could clearly see it meant these two would be working together. The idea thrilled me. I trusted Cole. And with few did I trust Trent.
“That’s what’s up, Cole.” Trent smiled. “Guess that means you gotta say goodbye to the dimpled freak, huhn?”
“Yup.” Cole nodded with pursed lips and high cheeks. “But it’s all good. I see enough of that gorgeous mug as it is. Cutting conflict wouldn’t hurt at all.” She smiled. “But it’s good to stay on a winning team.” She affectionately punched him in the arm. Then her eyes passed between Trent and me. “Anything you need—anything—let me know. Speaking of which: salary negotiations are happening in a couple of weeks. I’ll be reaching out to Chesney and his team to get a seat at the table for what they’re expecting.”
And here she was…
Cole and Elle were two of the baddest bitches when it came to business. No amount of alcohol could change that; neither could a sexy jumpsuit detract from it. Elle proved that every day. Cole, here, was confirming it.
“Could you cut that shit for a night?” another Mediterranean deep tenor in approach requested. “My file ain’t halfway out your office and you’ve moved on already.” Jordan flashed that dangerously killer dimpled smile. He simply couldn’t help it—even wearing a sling, reminding me of his collarbone injury. “Always about that work.” She was under his arm in the next moment.
Cole tried rolling her eyes and hiding a cheesy smile. “Don’t be jealous. I was just telling TB I’ll be sending over that Harry&David goodie basket soon.” She threw a tight faux smile to him. Jordan’s head tossed back and he laughed. Cole was working her magic.
The next thing I knew, the big teddy bear was nearing me. JJ pulled me from my big ogre’s heavy arm and lifted me to my toes with his healthy arm to bestow an affectionate bear hug, and kiss my cheek.
“The world’s light weight champion of the world! Who you lay out recently, Jade?” Jordan teased.
With all of a child’s innocence I could muster, I argued, “I’m not about that life anymore. I swear!”
“Yeah. A’ight!” Jordan returned.
The tips of my shoes scraped the floor in his hold as he released a hearty laugh. I’d grown used to this greeting from Jordan. Usually, I’d be in the air with my feet dangling from the floor. It was now our thing. But tonight, he was healing. I could hear Trent behind me laughing, too.
“Hey! Did you forget about your collarbone, fool?” Cole cried from not too far away. “I know she’s tiny, but take it easy!”
Jordan didn’t respond, but I knew as well as he, this ride would be over soon or else Cole would cut off his balls and minced them.
When my heels felt the floor again, I turned to issue Trent an indignant scowl.
“Hey to you, too, JJ. You smell like everything!”
“Well…” He pretended to pop a collar. “It’s what I do, Ms. J.”
He and Trent burst into laughter again. I rolled my eyes, unable to hide my smile. Cole’s expression wasn’t too off from mine.
“Oh, looka here!” Another tenor rang out over the music, this one milder. “These niggas finally came through?” Alton Alston made his way into our cypher, wearing a slick grin. Stenton’s lanky frame appeared on the other side, widening our circle. “Yo, man,” Alton peered directly at JJ. “…peep this. You come all the way down from Connecticut and could get here on time. These two Jesus fucks right here, up the damn road and had to make a fuckin’ fashionably late entrance, bro!”
Stenton shook his head, a smirk playing at his lips.
“Nah. For real. Both these niggas right in Alpine, and getting here after midnight. That’s some diva shit. Straight up, yo.” His eyes rolled over to Trent. “I know StentRo slow as a bitch. What’s your excuse? You had to clean the church after ya pastor sent the people home and bounced with the collection plate?”
The group laughed, even if annoyed or thunderstruck by his crudeness. I was still getting used to Alton. Cole didn’t seem as offende
d as me, and Zoey was immune to his devices.
“Huhn, pussy boy,” Alston continued, now turning toward Trent, ready for the kill. “Let me find out Jada here, with her cute ass, holding ya dick and got ya big crying ass—”
Something exploded in my throat.
“Hold!” My hand shot up in Alton’s face. “The only person crying from his cock is me. Unless yours is his size or larger—and seeing how your whole body’s only inches taller than his resting size, you can’t be—take that down, please!”
“Jade!” I heard over my head in its usual thwarted timbre, letting me know he didn’t approve. “It’s just Alton. Alton!” he barked just as I was lifted inches off the ground, once again tonight, and this time, pivoted to leave the cypher. I caught the explosive gasps and gut-bursting laughter from the group as we grew a distance.
Alton stood dumbfounded, wearing a half a grin. “Damn. I was just fuckin’ with ‘em.” He appeared wounded. But it was too late. I was fired up.
“It’s Jade for the millionth time!” I shouted back at him while in motion. “Not Jada!”
Trent traveled us over to orange leather sofas. “Sit ya lil ass right here.” He tossed himself on the couch next to me. It was clear to me he was annoyed. I’d gone too far. Again. “You need to chill. It’s only clown ass Alton,” the angry ogre spewed down to me.
I closed my eyes, trying to catch my breath. I thought I could handle Alton at this point. He’d been by the house a handful of times, and had always maintained that brashness. I guess seeing it out in public against Trent was problematic for me.
“You been on one since you spoke to ole boy. Either you kick it with me about it or let it go. But don’t do that shit again, J,” he growled in my ear.
My face remained toward my cropped tuxedo pants. I was angry myself, and disappointed. Someone passed in front of me, but I didn’t peer up to see who it was. I had to get my breathing under control first.
Trent shoved a tumbler my way. “This should help.”
I accepted it, knowing it was a shot of Patron. I didn’t want it; I’d had enough at the Rogers’, and even there, I didn’t overdo it.
Within minutes, people approached Trent to greet him. Some people he introduced me to, others he kept their talks short. He never left my side. Trent enjoyed the party from his seat, and I’d loosened up enough to scoot closer. I hated fighting with him.
After a while, Alton took to the stage and began thanking people for coming out.
“I ‘on’t know where Nisha’s ass at.” His eyes scoured the place. “I ain’t seen her since Brielle left.”
My eyes shot over to Trent, who either refused to look at me, or had no reaction at all to his former—super-duper-star—lover’s name.
“Anyway,” Alton shook his head. “She gone be looking for a nigga when we gotta shoot in the morning.”
The crowd went up.
I hadn’t been keeping up with Tynisha Lang’s reality show, Taking Tips from Tynisha, in a while, but knew it was still in production. What I didn’t know was she and Brielle were so tight until after I learned about Brielle and Trent’s secret affair. Since then I’d been hyper-aware of her presence. Being in the dark about Trent’s relationship with that woman still burned me.
“But the show must go on, right?” Alton asked. “With that being said: it’s time to bring out my special guest for the night. We got lots of stars in the building, but this one is more lit because sometimes the public wanna stir up shit between two successful black men. So to give ‘em a big fat”—he tossed his middle finger in the air—“fuck you, bring out the lyrical god and my Jersey brethren!”
The music track began. An anticipatory, heavy bass beat, a familiar tune, but just like almost everyone in the place, I was frozen with impatient curiosity.
Who’s coming out?
A hype man entered the stage. “Philly! Y’all fuckin’ with Silk City tonight?” He lifted his microphone in the air for their response. And boy, was it boisterous. “Fuck with us!”
The drums and horns grew impatient with a compelling rhythm. Where do I know this song from? Not even seconds later, a tall golden frame entered the stage, ramping up the clamorous shouts. Within the first few bars of lyrics, it was clear who he was.
“Is he doing her…
Is she doing him?
Do his life reflect what he puttin’ in?
Is he rich?
Is he poor?
Is he frontin’ for some more?
Did he really live that life of crime and sin?”
The words to that intro were elementary, at best, but add in the energy, heavy bass, and all the talk and speculation of exploding rap star, Young Lord, from Paterson, New Jersey, and you couldn’t help but lend your passion when singing along. Even Trent, to my left, stood and rapped along with Young, using his hands while he bounced rhythmically.
Lord’s career had taken off, making him a regular “hot topic” on television shows, blogs, in barbershops, and salons alike. Either they discussed his popular lyrics, his blooming producing role as a musician, or his personal life that he revealed in measure. We knew few things about Young Lord: he was from the slums of Paterson, he’s a father of three, he survived a life of crime without incarceration, and his bed had been graced by some of the most recognizable names of modern day society.
In fact, one of those women was runway model, Jessica Black. She had been photographed and noted to be one of Young’s lovers for close to a year, a while ago. From that short-lived romp, she seemed to be on every talk show. The common thread of questions always involved Young Lord, the mysterious yet influential rapper and powerful music producer. Oddly, enough, by the time she graced the television to promote a new fragrance she’d recently launched, Jessica and Young were no longer together. Allegedly, they’d broken up because he’d caught wind of her affair with Alton Alston.
For weeks, the blogs sounded off about that fiasco. Jessica spent countless interviews proclaiming her regret and sharing how the affair had cost her, her friendship with the famed rapper. Alton made a comment about it during a post-game interview.
“I did not have sexual relations with that woman.”
But the pictures expressed otherwise. He and Jessica were captured embracing at a resort in British Columbia, Canada. The images were suggestive with groping, licking, and assumed fondling. I didn’t know how they could attempt to talk their way out of that. Even Tynisha’s PR team released a statement of their marriage being tested, but they were determined to get through the scandal.
The only person not commenting on it was Young Lord. I’d never read a response to the situation from him. But I had learned of him moving on to a string musician, Ameerah. A cute hippy girl from L.A. Those two made a sex tape Ameerah had to run around the country to do clean up on. Again, Young Lord never spoke on it. I followed him because he shared the same public relations firm as Trent. Elle represented him, too.
The latest rumor on the rapper was that he was in yet another relationship. But this time, he was married. To his college sweetheart. There was no way I’d believe that. Young Lord appeared to be smart and exceptional in his field, but considering his testimonial lyrics, why would I ever believe a guy like him ever applied for college, much less got in? No. Young had the type of education unteachable on a college campus. Either way, he apparently moved on from Jessica. Tonight was evidence of that.
He’s performing at Alton’s birthday party!
Suddenly, I felt eyes on me. When I glanced up, Trent was next to me swaying rhythmically while tossing me an “I told you so” expression. That’s when I remembered his comment about Young not being exclusive to Jessica. That thought led me to realize the PR push in Young’s performance tonight. It was to show there was no beef between the two. Only Jessica appeared as the scandalous member of this trio now.
Old boys club, I tell ya…
I stood next to the big guy, enjoying the show. Excitement bristled all over me when Young perfo
rmed one of my favorite songs of his, Sun Showers. That brought a sensual shiver coursing my spine. It was also the only song I could listen to with Brielle’s vocals that didn’t turn me flaming red with anger. I still hated her. Young Lord’s slick lyrics made me forget she was there. People thought Young was simply rapping about good sex. I knew—thanks to Lashawn—he was talking about sex with a damn squirter.
“Your mouth open, tongue pushing between your teeth…
My lips moving to your cave, the button underneath.
Tight, growin’, and swollen…
Flick-flick-flick BOOM!
Showers of your pleasure sproutin’ from my hairline, drippin’ down my chin.
Your thighs don’t stop shakin’ anytime soon.
Showers for days…
Tongue swiping through the liquid haze.
My lips stained from your nectar…
Baby, from here it only gets better…”
By this time, I was in front of Trent, grinding on his inflating crotch. God, I loved that song! It brought out the freak in me.
I wasn’t the only one strung into a lascivious web hearing this track. I so happened to glance to my left and caught heels in the air. My neck popped to send my head completely that way. Outside of the lower level view, against the wall, Cole was on all fours over Jordan, whose lanky body was sprawled out on a long chaise. She twerked over his pelvis, body jiggling indecently as Jordan, with a scowl-like expression, swept his intoxicated eyes over her inviting frame. Cole’s spine was arched perfectly and chin was near his legs as her rear cheeks entertained him above her head.
“Stop staring,” I heard graveled in my ear thickly.
My shoulders dropped as I realized my whole body had steeled at some point, being nosy. If I could respect Cole any more, I did in that moment. In that instance, I recognized our parallel. Cole was going to lengths, pleasing her man. It was something I lived by. I’d go the distance just for the approval and contentment of one Trenton Bailey. He and Kyree were the only two beings inspiring me to breathe each day.
That visual stuck with me. It was what caused me to finally toss back that shot Trent had served me more than a half an hour ago. Just as I gulped the bottom of the glass, he took the tumbler while biting then sucking into my neck. Heat rushed down to my toes and my spine arched against him. Trent did this to me with little effort.