Hot Girlz: Hot Boyz Sequel

by Monteilh, Marissa

  “So why’s he trying to be your best friend again?” She took a final sip of her cocktail.

  “He needed to give me the one-up. If you ask me, I think it’s messing him up, messing with his ego. I mean, like you said there he is raising a boy with his name. Then the mother comes up with a scheme to get back-child support from her ex-boyfriend, claiming he’s the father, wanting to change the name to the ex’s name. Any man would snap after that. I’m surprised he’s kept his cool this long.”

  “Damn,” Sequoia said, looking bothered. “And she has the nerve to try and take you to court when she’s got all that going on? She can’t possibly think she’d be awarded custody and get child support.”

  “That’s why Kyle and I talked. He’s ready to leave but wants to keep an eye on Kyle Jr.” Torino dipped his bread into the last of the cream sauce left on his plate.

  “You really think she’d hurt Kyle Jr.?”

  “He thinks so.”

  “And?”

  “And, honestly, he told me flat-out he thinks Kyle Jr. is my son. Just like she was saying when she got pregnant, and then she changed her tune.”

  “Oh wow. Well, even if you are, Kyle still deserves custody, don’t you think?”

  Torino bit into the bread and shook his head, chewing.

  “He doesn’t want custody?” Sequoia asked. “How could he not? He’s been raising him all this time.”

  Torino said, “He said he wants to do what he can to make sure I, uh, you and I, get Kyle Jr.”

  “But why? And what makes him think we’d want him?”

  “He asked me if we did. I told him I couldn’t answer that. Told him I’d talk to you.”

  Sequoia shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I just think he’d regret that. Leaving her ass or not, that is his son. Blood or not.”

  “He’d be involved, he said. What he wants to do is get Kyle away from her first, and as soon as possible.”

  “How?”

  “We came up with a way to do it, if you’re cool. Are you down with the possibility of raising Kyle Jr.? Living our lives with him and TJ under the same roof as brothers?” He ate his last bite of bread and then sipped his water, tossing his lap napkin onto his empty plate.

  “I don’t know. Like I said, I’m not sure Kyle can just walk away like he thinks he can. Plus, it would be a lot harder on us to have him full-time, and her or him not sharing custody or having visitation rights. Plus, you think she’s crazy now? She’d flip out even more if that happened. Our lives would be a living hell. And, Torino, the question still remains, is he your son?”

  “As far as that, what Kyle and I talked about was I wouldn’t take the DNA test.”

  “And why not?”

  He leaned forward, placing his arms along the table. “Because, what I can do right away is just change my answer to her summons from contested to uncontested. I can stop denying I’m the father and that way, there would be no paternity test. Admitting that I’m the father moves it right into the custody phase, and that’s when her issues will come into play with proof that the police came to their house. Also with the restraining order Kyle’s going to file today, there’s no way the judge would grant her full custody.”

  Sequoia put her fork down. “I don’t know. You two sound like you’ve got it all figured out, but you can’t be so sure Kyle could really handle this. And you can’t be too sure the judge would allow you to not take the DNA test that he’s already ordered, and also, that he wouldn’t award her custody and back-child support. It’s her word against his as to who’s hitting who.”

  “I say it’s worth a try.”

  “I say you should go ahead and do the test. You have to want to know, right?”

  “I do.”

  “Plus, I think all this should be on Kyle, not you. He’s been with her this long. He can’t come running to you now. He got himself into this.”

  “True. But again, what if I am the father and he’s just been playing dad?”

  She said, “First of all, didn’t he sign the declaration on the birth certificate when Kyle was born?”

  “He said he didn’t.”

  “Damn.”

  “I know this is complicated. A lot of what-ifs.”

  “Torino, I hear what you’re saying. But as far as the paternity of that child, you may not want to know, but I sure as hell do.”

  “Then we’ll find out on our own once all of this is done. We’ll take a test on our own. First things first. I’m not gonna fight her right now.”

  “Have you thought about the fact that maybe her sneaky ass put him up to this to keep you from doing the DNA test on time, and he never ends up filing a restraining order? That they made this whole thing up about her being abusive? How can you trust him after what he did, out of your life for this long, and now he’s suddenly in your corner? You need to be careful, Torino. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “I thought about that. But what I think we need to do is wait for Kyle to file his complaint today. He said he’d email me copies of the paperwork, including the police reports. In the meantime, I’ll talk to Attorney Phillips, okay?” He examined her face. He pulled her eyes to his. “Just tell me you’re with me.”

  She blinked fast. “It just sounds way too messy. But, you got into this, you get this handled.” She gave him a stern look. “And I’m telling you, I want to know if he’s your child, Kyle’s child, Bobby Brown’s child, somebody’s kid. I’m not playing on that.”

  “You will. Thanks.”

  Sequoia scooped up her last bite of potatoes. “You and Kyle talking again. Ain’t that a trip?” She ate it and looked away.

  “That’s life. You just never know.”

  Sequoia rolled her eyes. “Oh, I know. It’s some out and out bullshit is what it is.”

  13

  Mercedes

  “Ten minutes later he was gone.”

  That following day was a Saturday.

  Lucinda was home with Mattie while Mercedes decided to simply ride around, just driving, not concerned about a destination or the high price of gas. Just driving.

  A call came in from Venus. And she ignored it.

  A call came in from Sequoia. And she ignored it.

  A call came in from her assistant. And she ignored it.

  Unless she saw the name Lucinda or Mason on her caller I.D., the calls would go to voicemail. And it was okay.

  After driving north on 405, to the 5, and straight up the 14 Freeway almost to Palmdale, she exited and got back on, and then drove back south for miles and miles, past the Centinela exit and down toward the bay area, driving, even without the radio or iPod. She didn’t want to play Brian McKnight, or Joe, or Mary J., for fear that some old love song would come on and encourage her tears to reappear. The tears that accompanied her until she finally fell asleep the night before.

  All she did was drive and think.

  And then she exited once again and got back on the freeway, headed northbound again. Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, she let out a scream so piercing that it made her ears ring. She shook her head and banged on the steering wheel, hollering repeatedly, “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

  It was at that moment when she pressed the button and said, “Call Mason.”

  She could hear the phone dialing and ringing once, twice, three times, and a voice, her missing husband’s voice that said, “Hello?”

  “Mason.” She struggled to make her verbal tone the complete opposite of her mental state.

  “Yeah.”

  “Just checking to see if you want to come home and barbeque Monday, Labor Day.”

  “No.”

  “Okay. Well, it was good seeing you the other day. The night you came by because Mamma had the scare with her breathing.”

  “Just glad Mom is okay.”

  “And I’m glad you got to spend a little time with Rashaad before he left.”

  “What’s up?” His tone was as though he would rather stick needles in his eyes than talk to her.


  “Why are you sounding like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re so rushed.”

  “I’ve got a meeting.”

  “Where?”

  “What’s up?” he asked again.

  “I need to talk to you. We need you here, Mamma and I. And the kids need to know we’re cool. Come home.”

  “Those kids are grown. They’ll live.”

  “I know they’re grown, but still. And by the way, to top it off, Star’s avoiding all my calls.”

  His voice was a bit kinder. “You haven’t talked to her?”

  “I’ve tried. Haven’t heard back. I left a message and a couple of emails.”

  “Are you ready to tell her what happened?”

  “I’m more interested in telling you what happened.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “You snuck off and got caught up in your attraction to another man. What more do I need to know?”

  “You need to know the truth. Not what you only imagine happened, or what you suspect happened. I need to talk to you. Please. Make time for this. For us. This is important.”

  He skipped over her sentence. “I’m trying to work it out so that Mom can be with me. Both her and Lucinda.”

  “What? Her and Lucinda. Mamma’s fine here. And you’re not over there permanently, you’re just getting some space.”

  “I didn’t tell you that.”

  “Maybe I assumed since you won’t talk to me.” She geared up. “How can you be so cruel as to leave and then say you’re gonna cut me off from Mamma, too? I dealt with everything when I found out you were sleeping with the red-headed woman, repeatedly. And not because you told me, but because I had to play detective after seeing her hair everywhere and realizing you were cheating on me. You two even had phone sex. Come on. I know you’re not serious about not coming home.”

  “See, when all of that happened you went through your pain, eventually saying if it ever happened again you’d take the kids and leave. And now when I have to deal with the reality of what you did, you act like I owe you a free cheating ticket. Well, I don’t.”

  “I didn’t cheat. I need you to hear me. Please, Mason.”

  “Go ahead.” He waited like she should spit it out.

  “No. Not while you’re rushing off to a meeting, and not over the phone. Meet me later at our spot at the beach in Palisades about six. Say yes because I’m telling you I can’t live like this.”

  “If you’re one minute late, I’m pulling off.”

  “I’ll be there. Love you. Thanks.”

  Click.

  ~~

  It was 5:30 and Mercedes pulled up perpendicular to the lifeguard tower in the parking lot along Pacific Coast Highway near Temescal Canyon Road.

  She sat, making sure her words were together, making sure to keep it real, making sure not to stumble or seem deceitful when really the night in question was a blur. She had practiced how to say it. Say what happened that one night in Vegas. The city that never sleeps where what happens is suppose to stay there. Only being that the world is so small, a young girl named Trinity who knew another young girl named Star spread the word and so it was. Mercedes found herself in Mason’s shoes wishing things had not gotten out, because suddenly the whole notion of what you don’t know won’t hurt you made complete and total sense.

  At 5:59 Mason drove up in his 2010 red Corvette with darker than legal tinted windows. He pulled up beside her and turned off the ignition. He stayed inside, and she could barely make out his face. She got out of her SUV and walked to his passenger side, opened the door and got in. His dashboard resembled a cockpit. His flashy sports car told on his mid-life crisis, showing the world that he no longer had small kids whom he needed a backseat for.

  The skin on the back of Mercedes’s heated thighs pressed again the coolness of the tan leather seats. Her heart thumped so hard she swore he could hear it.

  He smelled like the cedar and orange zest of his regular I Am King cologne by Sean John. It was so him. She was addicted to the scent. She was hormonally bonded.

  She inhaled him and sighed big, saying, “Thanks for coming.”

  “Talk.” Wearing all black, he leaned his elbow against the middle console and rested his hand under his chin. He leaned his seat back and looked out toward the vastness of the ocean.

  Mercedes, wearing all white, just went for it. “Sequoia and I checked into the Planet Hollywood Towers just after one o’clock. The fashion show I did for the designer, Armani, was at eight that evening at The Cosmopolitan.

  “By the time we got our room keys and walked through the casino, I called you and left you a message. I knew you were writing. I think Sequoia and I had played slots for a minute, maybe some blackjack . . .”

  “Get to it.”

  Mercedes spoke to the side of his face. “The first time I saw him was when I was checking in all of the male models. I knew we had celebrity models but honestly, I’d never heard of him before. I sent him over to wardrobe. He tried to flirt and I knew it. I wanted him to know it wasn’t cool. That was after he tried to hold my hand, I think. I think I told him to never touch me again.”

  “LOL.”

  “So, anyway, a few people and Sequoia and I went to this bar called Jet. It was maybe eleven or twelve that night. He came up to us and asked me to dance. At first I told him no, but then a song came on, I can’t even remember what it was. I just said yes, thinking one dance was okay.”

  “Slow song or fast?”

  “Slow.”

  He finally looked to his right, eyes meeting hers. “And you don’t remember the song?”

  “I don’t. I promise you. I was a little buzzed . . . ”

  “Next.” He looked straight ahead again.

  “About halfway through the song I told him I was going back to the bar where my sister-in-law was, and we stopped dancing. He walked me back. I told him goodbye and he continued to talk. I had a quick conversation with him, showing him my wedding ring and telling him I was married, and that I wasn’t interested. He said he meant no disrespect.”

  Mason cleared his throat.

  “He walked away and then sent some champagne over to me and Sequoia.”

  He gave a quick laugh. “And you drank it?”

  She answered, “We both did. I only saw him maybe two more times dancing or standing around and then we left. Me and Sequoia.”

  “And?”

  “And we took a cab from the club back to the tower at Planet Hollywood. Went up to the 24th floor where our rooms were. I think it was maybe one in the morning by then and our flight left that morning. Sequoia went on down the hall to her room, and I went in my room. I called you. You do remember when we talked? I did that because I saw that I had a message on the hotel room phone. At first I thought it was you, but you said you didn’t call. After we talked I checked it. It was him.”

  “How did he know where you were staying?” Mason asked in a monotone voice.

  “I don’t know. Most of my staff stayed at the same hotel.”

  “And he knew your name?”

  “From the show, I’m sure.”

  “Get to it.”

  “The message was, This is Ryan. Hope you don’t mind that I called. Just making sure you got back okay. If you can’t sleep give me a call. I’m at the Venetian, and he gave his room number. Said he wasn’t ready to call it a night. I just, before I knew it, well I just called him and he offered me coffee, and I’d say within thirty minutes he was at my door.” She took a breath and swallowed hard.

  “Coffee. At one in the morning?”

  “Mason, I know it makes no sense, but my head was spinning and I just opened the door and then he came in, and then handed me the coffee and then he sat on the sofa. Then I sat on the other end. I never drank the coffee.”

  Mason took his shades from the sunglass holder near the visor. He put them on and slumped down further in his seat.

  “I think I was flattered. He
was younger. Honestly, I’d felt like my days of ever turning heads was over. I knew it was wrong having him there. I at least felt I kind of knew him from the show, as opposed to someone on the street. I know that makes no sense. I know none of this does.”

  “You need to nail the ending in three sentences or less.” He started up the car, looking like his ego was holding its breath.

  “We talked. He sat closer to me, and he kissed me. A few minutes later he was gone. Nothing else happened.”

  “That was four.” Mason paused. Then it was like his words escaped him. After a few breaths he sat up. “Get the fuck out of my car before I come around and yank your ass out.”

  Mercedes made a move toward touching his arm. “Mason.”

  He grabbed his door knob and pulled on it, appearing ready to step out.

  Mercedes beat him to it, opening the passenger door and hopping to a stance. Before she could close the door all the way he backed up and sped off, leaving her standing there in her own insecure, unfaithful wonder.

  The truth had been told, yet she felt like a murderer more than a cheater.

  She felt like she had just admitted to killing their twenty four year-old marriage with one simple kiss.

  14

  Venus

  “. . . with her fit body and strong legs.”

  Seven o’clock in the evening.

  A warm, slightly windy night in Laguna Hills, part of the land known as Rancho Niguel in Orange County proper.

  The lush hills, breathtaking beaches and rich vegetation, as well as the Spanish and traditional architecture, make Laguna Hills a great place to live.

  Claude Wilson had seized the opportunity to lease an office building on Los Alisos Boulevard. It was located in a strip mall with enough space to accommodate twelve realtors.

  It was the first day of business for Wilson Realty of Orange County, September 17th, a Friday.