“I needed to get your garbage,” she said.
“Sure, I’m sorry,” Madison said as she moved out of the way.
The little lady entered the room and began removing the filled bag of garbage and bringing it to her cleaning cart outside Madison’s door. As she did what she needed to do, Polytics looked around the room at all the platinum-and gold-record plaques hanging on the wall addressed to Madison Cassell of WDRD. He read each one, checking out all the details.
“Do all the artists send you a platinum record?” he asked.
“Not all, but most. The ones whose music I have played.”
“Well, I’ll be sure to send you my platinum record next month.”
Madison giggled.
The woman had replaced the garbage bag with an empty one and finished what she was doing. Madison waited and began to close the door behind her after saying good night.
“How are you so sure you’re going to go platinum?” she asked.
“I just do. My album is hot, and my singles have been the biggest club songs all month.”
“Well, I’m happy that you’re so confident and so excited, but it’s happened before.”
“What has happened before?”
“An artist looks so promising, and then their career flopped.”
“Oh, no—that won’t be me.”
“OK. Well, if you are so sure of yourself and your career, why do you have me up here late at night to get feedback?”
“Because I wanted you up here late at night,” Polytics said as he moved toward her in one movement.
Madison was thrown completely off guard, but before she could try to gather her thoughts, Polytics’s strong hands had the back of her head, and his tongue was roaming around in her mouth. She felt his other hand stroking her back, and though her mind was telling her one thing, her body was enjoying every second of it. Madison couldn’t remember the last time she had been kissed so passionately, if ever at all.
She finally placed her hand between herself and Polytics to make some room between them. As soon as he backed up enough to look her in her eyes, he reached back in with his mouth. This time while he kissed her he picked her up and walked toward the wall behind her. She could feel her body release endorphins; she seemed to just get weaker and weaker. Madison knew this was all wrong, but there was no doubt that it felt all right. He had her pinned against the wall, kissing every bare part of her body he could reveal as he removed her shirt and pulled her bra strap down. Madison just gasped for air as she took huge breaths, her body reacting to the shock and euphoria. It seemed that it happened in one action, that Polytics had removed her jeans and had her legs wrapped around his waist, thrusting her. Madison knew it hadn’t been one motion, but it was happening so fast she couldn’t find the time to think. She wanted to stop because she knew there was no turning back, but the heated moment was so unbelievable she didn’t want to stop it and ruin everything it could be.
His shirt came off, and Madison ran her fingers all over his sculpted body as she grabbed, pulled, and scratched for more. He was so built and so large she couldn’t believe that all of him was wrapped around all of her. He was surely good at what he did because there was no time for Madison to think—it was as if he had put her in a trance. She had gone from his waist to pinned against the wall to bent over her desk chair to the edge of her desk and back to his waist. By the time they were done, twenty-eight minutes had gone by, and Polytics was just finishing what he’d started. They were both breathing heavily, and Madison couldn’t look him in the eye. It was like waking up from a dream—not wanting it to be over but in shock that it had even happened.
Madison had changed clothes in her office before, but after all the years of working there, she had never been in that office stark naked until now. She began to pick up her clothes and slowly put them back on. Polytics began to get himself dressed as well. Neither of them said a word as they caught their breath and dressed themselves. It was as though they had silently agreed somewhere along the way that this was going to happen, so there was nothing to discuss. The longer the silence settled in, the more Madison realized what she had just done was so risky and crazy she was in disbelief that she had let it happen. She began to wish it really had been a dream and it wasn’t an actual reality that she had just finished having sex with a rapper—a rapper whose song she played on the radio constantly. She was well aware what kind of implications and drama could come from that reality. If only she were dreaming, it could’ve been the best dream ever, with no consequences to pay. This was looking like the real reality here: she had just had sex with Polytics. It was real good sex, but it was definitely something that could ruin her career, so as mind-blowing as the experience had been, it was beginning to lose its excitement.
“This stays between me and you,” Madison said as she put her shoes on.
“Of course.”
“I don’t normally do this,” she said.
“Right, so it was just something special about me?” he asked.
She just looked at him. “I guess you can say that.”
“Well, that makes me feel awfully special,” he said.
She was trying to remain composed and not let him see how uneasy she was. Although she was trying to speak calmly and appear unruffled, she could tell her mannerisms and fidgeting fingers were giving away just how frazzled she was.
“This is so embarrassing to ask now, but what is your real name?”
He chuckled. “Clarence.”
“Nice to officially meet you, Clarence,” she said.
Madison found it in her to find the humor in the situation. She had to admit, regardless of how unethical or tacky the sex was, it was worth every 1,680 seconds. She didn’t feel right critiquing his album after that; she just wanted to wrap this night up before anyone knocked on the door or saw them leaving together.
“I guess it would be best if we listened to your album some other time,” she said.
“That’s fine, it is getting late,” he said.
“Besides, you’re going platinum either way. You don’t need me.”
“Of course I need you.”
Madison turned back to see that Polytics looked serious. She had only been kidding, but maybe he hadn’t seen her smile. Instead of acknowledging his tone, she checked to make sure they were both fully dressed and presentable and opened the office door to leave. She grabbed her purse off the door and turned off the lights. Polytics walked out behind her and closed the door.
“It will lock automatically?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“I’m going to need the key to your office—one of the privileges of being your favorite rapper,” he said.
Madison caught the humor, but she couldn’t laugh. She was almost hoping they could just walk and not talk and pretend he hadn’t just had his penis inside her and his tongue down her throat. Hearing him speak of it only made her more uncomfortable—it made all the voices inside her head speak louder and louder. So she tried to ignore them, and she ignored him.
Chapter 13
Sereeta lived in a quaint little apartment in the heart of Harlem. She loved her apartment, but it wasn’t until she began making the salary that Corey was paying her that she was able to really hook it up. She had been to IKEA, Target, and Bed Bath & Beyond once every weekend for the past month. She didn’t even know that buying stuff for a living room and kitchen could be just as much fun as clothes shopping. She had finally realized she was becoming addicted to decorating and interior designing; she was wondering if she should make it a side hustle.
Corey had left town for the day and had let her know she wouldn’t have to work for two days. She was so relieved to get a break; she could just stay home and reorganize her closet and install this wardrobe organizer she had purchased last weekend. She knew it was a bit pathetic to have days off with no one to share them with, but she was becoming content with the lifestyle she had. She had a few guys in her phone book who she was intim
ate with from time to time, but one or two had a girlfriend, and the others were only looking for fun and nothing serious. Most times she could call them when she was in need of a good time as well, but she had long ago gotten tired of the games. She didn’t like the feeling of being used, so she didn’t answer their calls or hang out with them unless she wanted them. It was easier to feel like she was using them than face that they were using her. So, on most occasions, she didn’t have anyone to go on dates with or spend days off with.
She had been up and at ’em for about two hours when Reyna called. She let Sereeta know she was coming over and would be there soon. Sereeta didn’t mind, because Reyna was one of the few people she would allow in her apartment when it wasn’t clean. She had a thing for keeping a presentable home; she was very organized and meticulous. Her attention to detail was one of her strengths as Corey’s assistant. She began to change into something a bit more presentable—instead of the underwear and wife beater she had slept in the night before. She threw on a pair of green leggings and a T-shirt. She had no plans on leaving the house today, so there was no need to look fabulous. She even left her head scarf on—she figured she would rather her wrap be fresh for when she was going somewhere.
It was about one o’clock when Reyna showed up. The doorbell rang two times consecutively, and Sereeta jumped off the couch to open the door. When she opened it, Reyna was standing there looking like a sad puppy.
“What’s wrong?” Sereeta asked.
Reyna stomped over to the couch. She plopped down on the brown microfiber love seat.
“What’s wrong?” Sereeta repeated, following behind her.
“I hate my job, Michael and I are fighting, I need to lose, like, ten pounds, and I am miserable,” Reyna blurted out.
“Someone sounds like they’re experiencing PMS,” Sereeta said.
“You sound just like Michael. Oh, my gosh.”
Sereeta laughed as she pulled a couch pillow into her chest and scooted back in her seat.
“Don’t brush off all my problems just because I have my period,” Reyna said.
“I am not, but you just tend to dwell on—and create—the negative when you are going through this time of the month. I am trying to tell you not to be so hard on yourself. It’s just hormones.”
“It’s not just hormones. Our fighting is real.”
“Chances are you are fighting because you are being hormonal,” Sereeta said, laughing.
“No, I am mad at him because he is going away with all his friends next month, and he and I haven’t been away in years.”
“So plan a trip with him for later this year; then that issue is resolved.”
“No, he won’t have that many more vacation days left to fit in another weeklong vacation, so we would have to go for a long weekend, and why do I have to get the short vacation and his boys the long one?”
“It’s not as if you have been asking to go away with him, and you guys did go to Hawaii before.”
“I did mention it once or twice, but he always said, ‘We will look into it,’ and ‘we’ never did. And we went to Hawaii, like, three years ago. Besides, the real problem is that he didn’t want to go with me, or he would’ve planned something. But he is all excited about going away with his boooys,” Reyna said.
Sereeta started to giggle. “I understand your point, but no need to fight over it. Plan a trip for the top of next year that is a week long and look forward to it and let this be over with.”
“I want me and you to go away together next month,” Reyna said.
“Next month?”
“Why? So when he goes away you can go away, too? Don’t be so petty and obvious.”
“No, so that when he is away I won’t be home pissed off. Instead I can be on vacation, too, having a good old time.”
“If you are serious or still feel this way when your period is over, let me know,” Sereeta said.
Reyna picked up a toss pillow and threw it across the room.
“Stop that. I’m just irritable and have cramps. I’m not having an out-of-body experience,” Reyna said.
“What did you have in mind, Reyna?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Vegas for just an extended weekend.”
“OK, I have to speak with Corey about it and let you know.”
“You sound like he’s your man,” Reyna said.
“No, I mean I have to see about getting off and all that,” Sereeta said.
“For a weekend?”
“I work weekends, too, remember. There are no set days that I do or don’t work.”
“That sucks.”
“Well, it’s not that bad. I usually get two days off, separate or together, and some weeks I can get three or so off if he has an away game and doesn’t ask me to come or do anything back home.”
“You have to travel with him to away games?” Reyna asked.
“No, just once so far, but he needed me to arrange a meeting while he was in LA, and he wanted me to purchase some things from Rodeo Drive and be at the meeting with him.”
“Well, what about vacation days?”
“I’m not sure how they work yet. That’s why I have to talk to him about it.”
“It’s a very unorthodox job,” Reyna said.
“Indeed,” Sereeta replied.
“So how do you get paid?” Reyna asked.
“His accountant deposits my check in my account every two weeks, so I get direct deposits just like you.”
“Oh, OK. That’s cool, at least.”
“What do you mean, ‘at least’? I love my job,” Sereeta said.
“Because you get to flirt with a bunch of rich black men—who wouldn’t love that?”
Sereeta laughed. “It’s nothing like that. It’s just free and flexible. Even when I’m working, sometimes I feel like I’m off—I don’t have a boss over my shoulder watching me most of the time. I can always fit my errands in throughout the day. He gives me pocket money, which I guess is called petty cash, to run the errands and stuff and pay for things—he always tells me I can keep what’s left over, so a lot of days lunch is on him, and I come home with extra money,” Sereeta said.
“Sounds nice, but is it challenging? What do you do on most days?”
“Whatever he needs—errands mainly, but he also has me make and return calls for him, arrange meetings, keep his locker at the stadium organized and kept up,” she said.
“They don’t have staff that does that?”
“They do, but he likes me to bring certain things from his house on some days. Like, he wants to wear certain things after the game if he’s going somewhere, so he will have me bring it to the locker beforehand if he isn’t leaving from home. Stuff like that.”
“Boy, is he spoiled,” Reyna said.
“He’s just rich, that’s all.”
“Aw, look at you defending your man.”
“Knock it off. He is not my man. I wish my man had it like him.”
“You don’t have a man,” Reyna said.
Sereeta started laughing, and so did Reyna.
“You know what, this is why you and Michael are fighting now—because you are an evil bitch when you are bleeding,” she said.
“Whatever. I am just saying stop playing around. He is single, and clearly you are the lady in his life,” Reyna said. “You don’t have a man, so why not?”
“I am the assistant in his life, Reyna, that’s it. Why not? Because I work for him, and I need my job.”
“When you become his girl, you won’t need a job, ’cause then your man will be balling,” Reyna said. She had lifted her arm in the air and pretended to make a basketball shot.
“You are such a nut, and I hope you know that,” Sereeta said. “There won’t be any of that going on. I am not trying to lose my job for the groupie seat and be assed out—literally.”
“If he hasn’t made a move on you yet, he likely doesn’t see you as a groupie. He respects you. See where it goes—maybe this can be a little love story.
Usher married his stylist,” Reyna said.
Sereeta got off the couch. “I’ll be back. I’m going to fix something to drink.”
“Oh, did the conversation get to you? You are in denial that you have a crush on your boss!” Reyna yelled after her.
“Not at all!” Sereeta yelled back. “I’m just thirsty!”
In the kitchen, Sereeta poured herself a glass of AriZona iced tea. She stood there and then took a step, absorbing the conversation she was having with Reyna—which she wanted to stop. She didn’t even want to put those thoughts in the air. It was hard enough remaining totally professional with a man who oozed confidence and was rich as hell and could buy her anything her heart desired. Hell, yeah, he was a catch. Still, she knew her chances of being with him were almost impossible, and she didn’t need any girlie emotional feelings clouding her judgment. She couldn’t afford to lose her job, and she knew that if she started flirting with him, he might get turned off and fire her. So unless Corey proposed or something, she was going to continue to act like he was a seventy-five-year-old, broke, hideous creature, and that he was the last thing on her mind.
Chapter 14
“I’ll murda dem, I’ll murda dem” blared through the speakers in the office. The CD in the stereo belonged to Random—he was a new artist on the label. Naomi had heard one or two of his mix-tape songs in the past, but this was her first time hearing this new song. He had been signed to their label for more than two years now, and they were finally dropping his album. He was a major project for the label because they had put a lot of money behind him, and they were hoping for big sales when his album dropped. There were a lot of people hoping to prove themselves with this project—a lot of marketing and promotions people, that is. Although Naomi was the new girl in marketing, it was even obvious to her who was trying to cut whose throat and who was trying to prove to the bosses that they were next in line to shine.
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