His chest tightened. This woman really knew how to get to him.
“Thanks. Once NARAS sends the official award to management with my name on it, I’ll bring it by next time I come over so you and the kids can see it.”
“Why bother? You seen one Grammy, you’ve seen them all,” Charisse said airily.
Terrence laughed. “I’m bringing it anyway, and you’re gonna love it.”
He glanced back at Bo, who stood with his arms crossed, legs spread apart. He raised his eyebrows at Terrence.
“I better go. Bo looks like he wants to fire me even though I’m his boss.”
“Isn’t that the way it’s always been? He has to keep you in line. Have fun and stay out of trouble. Good night, T-Murder,” she said softly.
Terrence closed his eyes and absorbed the sweetness of her voice. He firmed his lips as regret soured in his chest. If only he could turn back the clock, he’d do so many things differently.
“Good night, sweetheart.” He disconnected the call and stared at the blank screen for several seconds. Then he took a deep breath and trudged toward his friend with extra swagger in his walk. He stepped over to where one of the women—amber-skinned with curly blonde locks and gray eyes that looked seductively into his—stood waiting. He recognized her as one of the performers’ backup dancers. She looked about twenty-four, the same age Charisse had been when he married her.
“Never seen one of those. Can I touch it?” the woman asked.
“I don’t even know your name,” he said.
She blushed shyly. “Kimberly, but I go by Kim.”
“Well Kim, you can touch it—if you give me a kiss on the cheek first.”
She blushed again but obliged, pressing soft lips against his jaw. She smelled good, and his male brain shifted gears and paid closer attention. She was perfect. She looked nothing like Charisse, who had dark skin, dark eyes, and thick coily hair she ran to the hairdresser to straighten every two to three months.
Maybe he’d take Kim home tonight. Maybe not. He’d see how the evening unfolded.
He handed her the award and her eyes widened. “It’s heavier than I expected. Is it real gold?”
“Gold plated,” Terrence replied.
“Can we go now?” Bo asked.
“Go ahead, man, you lead the way.”
“That’s what I’m talking ’bout.”
Bo took off with the other woman and Terrence flung an arm around Kim’s shoulders and pulled up the rear.
“What are you doing after the party?” he asked.
She glanced up at him with a coquettish smile. “Whatever you’re doing.” Not so shy after all.
“I don’t know if you can hang with us. We go hard,” he warned. The NARAS party was not the place to cut loose, but he and Bo would definitely hit a club or two afterward. They’d get drunk off top-shelf liquor, and if they were lucky, get high on some good weed.
“I may surprise you. Maybe I don’t know if you can hang with me.”
Well, damn.
Terrence grinned, certain she’d help him forget the woman he really wanted to be with tonight. The woman he met fourteen years ago, married two years later, and who changed his life. The woman whose name he tattooed over his heart on their four-year anniversary to prove his love after too many fuck ups—and never removed it, even after they split.
Yeah, Kim should help him forget Charisse.
At least, he hoped so. If only for a few hours.
3
Terrence and Bo sat in a booth at Darn Good, a locally owned restaurant off Candler Road in existence for over thirty years. The menu hadn’t changed in all that time.
From the outside, the place looked like a hole in the wall, but they served delicious meals—simple but hearty breakfasts and simple but hearty lunches that consisted of one meat and two vegetables. Terrence had been coming here for years, and he and the owner, Miss Margaret, were good friends. In the early days when cash was low, he could always stop by and Miss Margaret would fill his arms with leftovers so he could feed his wife and adopted son. In appreciation of her kindness, he shouted out Darn Good in a couple of songs when he became famous. The free publicity made the little restaurant popular and its owner a minor celebrity.
Stopping in from time to time did more than feed his belly. The visits satisfied his appetite for nostalgia and reminded him of where he came from. Still bleary-eyed after flying back from New York after a promotional gig and time spent in the studio doing a feature for one of the record company’s popular R&B artists, he and Bo remained inconspicuous in thick jackets and skull caps pulled low on their foreheads.
Terrence checked messages on his phone while Bo wolfed down grits with sugar sprinkled on them—full-on blasphemy in a place like this—and shoveled eggs and toast into his mouth. When he finally took a break, he asked, “What are you working on?”
“I asked Kamisha to check on vacation spots for this summer’s trip,” Terrence said, referring to his other assistant. Kamisha handled travel arrangements, organized his calendar, and worked from the office. Bo was a jack-of-all-trades who traveled with him and acted as a go-between for any and all issues he didn’t want to address directly.
“You taking Charisse and the kids on a trip this summer, too?”
He glanced up at his friend, who studied him from across the table. “Yes.”
Bo knew the answer to the question before he asked. Terrence and Charisse had been divorced for five years, but the past two summers, he took her and the kids on a two-week vacation and made it plain that would be their annual ritual for years to come. This year he was thinking about the Galapagos Islands, since Charisse and Ennis liked to snorkel.
Of course, he knew why Bo asked. He thought it was weird Terrence vacationed with his ex.
Bo wiped his mouth and dropped the crumpled napkin on the table. “Yo, I still don’t get it. I think Charisse is a sweetheart, and God knows she put up with a lot of shit from your ass, but she’s your ex.”
Terrence sighed and set down the phone. “What’s the big deal? She’s the mother of my children, and we’re still friends. We get along. There’s nothing wrong with us spending time together with the kids. It’s good for them to see us getting along.”
Bo eyed him skeptically. “So the only reason you plan these vacations is to present a united front for the kids?”
That wasn’t the only reason he arranged these trips. During those two weeks, he experienced their family life again, as if they weren’t divorced and living apart. They ate together, went sightseeing, and because they were five people with five different opinions, they argued about what they wanted to do from day to day. And he loved every minute of it.
He also loved to watch his ex. She was a darn good mother who played with the kids, kissing on them even in the middle of an intense water volleyball match. Half the time he didn’t join in. Under the pretense of working, he sat on the side of the private pool and watched behind dark sunglasses. Watched Charisse. She was beautiful and sexy in a one-piece bathing suit that she thought was more modest but made his imagination run wild.
Charisse still turned him on, and if she turned him on, she turned on other men—which he could barely stand to think about. Thank goodness she kept her relationships low-key. In all these years he’d never actually seen her with another man. He liked to think there was no one else, because he couldn’t tolerate the thought of another man touching her. Quite ironic, considering his track record. Before the blow up that ended their marriage, he never flaunted his extramarital hookups, but there had been plenty of questionable photos, rumor, and innuendo—some true, some false—and she’d have to be blind and deaf not to know what he’d been up to.
“Of course I’m organizing these vacations for the kids,” Terrence said.
“Come on, dawg, it’s me.”
Terrence chuckled. “I’m serious.”
Bo drummed thick fingers on the table as Terrence resumed scrolling through emails, pretending n
ot to notice.
“I think it’s great you and Charisse have such a solid relationship, but how do you think your new woman is going to handle the fact that you’re vacationing with your ex?”
Terrence continued scrolling. “I don’t have a new woman.”
“When you do, you think she’s gon’ like you hanging out on the beach or whatever with your ex-wife? Any woman with half a brain would be threatened by that. Come on, man, you’re looking for trouble.”
Terrence put down the phone and glared at Bo. He firmed his voice to make it clear the conversation should come to an end. “My ex-wife and my kids are part of my life. Whoever enters my life now will simply have to deal.”
“And the shorty from the Grammys? You been seeing her for a couple of weeks now.”
He didn’t normally take the number of one-night stands, but he’d liked Kim and flew her out to see him a few times. He didn’t know where this relationship was going, but for now she filled a void.
“Like I said, she’ll have to deal. If she has a problem with Charisse, that’s her problem. She can simply move on. We ain’t in love.”
“Cool, cool.” Bo nodded his head. “I just wanted to check, man. I’d hate to see anyone get hurt.”
“Ain’t nobody getting hurt. Kim’s grown. I’m grown. We’re having fun, that’s all.” Terrence tucked the phone into his pocket. “I’m going to take a leak. Finish your food and when I get back, let’s bounce. We have a meeting at eleven and I don’t want to be late.”
“A’ight man.”
Terrence slid from the booth and walked toward the restrooms in the back of the restaurant.
Bo and Grandma Esther were the only two people to warn him that he should change his ways or risk losing his wife. He didn’t listen to either of them. He listened to his own lust and the people who encouraged the bad behavior. And quite frankly, he enjoyed himself.
His penis hadn’t been the only thing getting stroked during that period. His oversized ego had been, too. Being a celebrity was a drug all its own, and so was having women fawn all over you—screaming your name, slipping you their number, and willing to do anything for a night in your arms.
Those days used to be fun, but he didn’t go out as much as he used to anymore. Most nights he stayed his ass at home. He figured out too late there was nothing out there for him.
4
Charisse examined her reflection in the gold standing mirror in a corner of her bedroom. Her daughter, Chelsea, sat cross-legged on the high four-poster bed watching her primp and prepare for her date with Austin, a marketing consultant she met at the grocery store, of all places.
They’d been seeing each other for over a month, and she liked him a lot. He was polite and funny, and they definitely had some chemistry. Sure, it wasn’t the explosive chemistry she used to have with Terrence, but none of the men she dated since they split managed to curl her toes and make her heart race the way her ex-husband did. She learned to accept that and enjoy their company nonetheless.
She turned and faced her daughter and placed her hands on her hips. “How do I look?”
“Pretty.”
“You’re not saying that because I’m your mother?”
Chelsea shook her head vigorously, her braids swinging around her head. “You look very pretty, Mommy. You always look pretty.”
“And you are my little angel.”
“Princess,” Chelsea corrected.
“Oh yes, how could I forget. My princess.”
Charisse took one more look at her reflection. She liked dressing up, and tonight she looked sexy in an electric-blue dress, gold pumps, and heavy makeup that contoured her cheeks and elongated her lashes.
“All right, let’s go. Grandma will be here any minute, and then I need to leave.”
Because she planned to stay out the entire night, she asked her mother to sleep over. She hadn’t shared her decision to spend the night with Austin, in case she changed her mind over the course of the evening. They’d made love before, but she never spent the night, though he made it clear she was welcome to do so.
Normally, Ennis watched his younger siblings when she went out, but since she would be gone overnight, she wanted an adult in the house.
She grabbed her purse and she and Chelsea exited the bedroom. Down the hall, she rapped twice on her eldest son’s door and poked her head in. He and Junior sat on the floor, staring up at the TV screen, playing a video game.
“I’m on my way out. You guys be good.”
“Bye, Mom,” Junior said over his shoulder without taking his gaze from the screen.
Ennis glanced back and did a double take. “Wow, you look pretty, Mom.”
“Thank you, honey.”
As she and Chelsea walked down the hallway, she heard the front door open. “Mom, is that you?”
“It’s me,” her mother called back.
Chelsea ran ahead and as Martha came into view, flung herself into her grandmother’s arms. “Grandma, doesn’t Mommy look pretty?”
Her mother wore an auburn wig and looked relaxed in a pair of dark jeans and tennis shoes. The lines at the corners of her eyes crinkled when she nodded and grinned. “Very pretty. I think you’re in for a really good night tonight,” she said with a wink.
“And I appreciate you doing this for me.” Her mother encouraged her to date again after she and Terrence initially split. It took a year to get back on the dating scene, but as the saying goes, the best way to get over someone was to get under a new someone. Once she started spending time with other men, the loneliness didn’t hit as hard and she didn’t have much time to feel sorry for herself.
“I’ll head out now so I’m not late. I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Thanks again, Mom.”
“Have fun!” her mother called.
“Name?”
“Ross,” Austin answered. “Austin Ross.”
Arm in arm, Charisse and Austin stood at the host stand of Notte, a large Italian restaurant with an intimate ambiance thanks to the dark wood walls, dimmed lights, and votive candles flickering on each table. Charisse had saved her appetite, and the scent of basil and marinara sauce made her anxious to eat.
“There you are.” The host checked off Austin’s name. “Follow me, please.”
Tonight Austin wore a long-sleeved dress shirt under a blue sweater vest and tie. The glasses on his face gave him a distinguished look along with the neat, close-cropped hair with gray coming in at the edges above his ears.
He held onto her hand as they followed the host through the maze of tables, but as they were walking, her gaze fell on a face she never expected to see. Terrence snapped a selfie with a couple of fans and then flung an arm around the neck of the young woman by his side. He did it in a negligent way, as if he’d done it many times before.
They looked good together. Terrence in black jeans and a black turtleneck because of the cool March evening, and the young woman pretty in a long-sleeved but short, skintight black dress and the type of killer heels Charisse gave up wearing a few years ago.
She swallowed hard as hurt bloomed in the pit of her stomach. She felt a little sick, the same way she used to feel when Terrence’s nameless, faceless girlfriends developed names and faces on Instagram or gossip blogs. It was so much easier when she couldn’t see them and could pretend they didn’t exist.
Her left hand tightened fractionally around Austin’s, and then the host stopped beside a table and waved his hand. “Will this work?” he asked.
“Yes, this works,” Austin answered.
But Charisse wasn’t paying attention. She kept her eyes trained on Terrence and his latest squeeze, laughing and talking with the patrons. As they were saying goodbye, he saw her, and the smile died on his face. His gaze dropped to where her hand was still enveloped in Austin’s.
She smiled and glanced away, allowing Austin to help her into the chair and off her suddenly unsteady feet. The host handed them both menus and promised the waiter would arrive soon.
&n
bsp; “You’re okay with this table, right?” Austin asked.
Perhaps he thought her silence meant disapproval, but little did he know she had experienced a shock.
“It’s perfect,” she replied. She looked at the menu.
“Hi, Charisse,” a deep voice said to her right.
Tension filled her shoulders. She should have known he would stop by the table, but she hoped that he would leave to avoid a confrontation. With all the dirt he did during their marriage, one thing remained constant, and that was Terrence’s jealous streak. She kept her post-marital relationships low-key for that very reason.
He was particularly sensitive about the men who worked in music with him, and whenever they attended industry events, he made sure to stick close, as if worried someone would take her away from him. One time he ended up in a scuffle with another rapper over a song. “Bomb Pussy” was a raunchy rap Terrence wrote about the pleasure he received from being inside his woman and from performing cunnilingus on her. Everyone knew the song was about Charisse, though he never openly admitted it. When the rapper in question recited the vulgar lyrics backstage at a show while looking right at Charisse, Terrence flew into a rage and swung on him. If it weren’t for security, one or both men would have ended up in the hospital.
She used to believe his jealousy proved that he loved her, despite his affairs. God, she’d been so foolish.
“Hi, Terrence.”
“Kids at home?” he asked, eyes boring into hers.
“Yes, as a matter of fact they are. My mother’s there to make sure they don’t burn the house down.” She smiled tightly and glanced at the woman with him. She looked uncomfortable, shifting from one leg to the other. Up close she appeared younger than Charisse initially thought. She looked about twenty-four, around fifteen years younger than her ex. So typical.
“This is Kim Jones. Kim, this is my ex-wife, Charisse Burrell.” Terrence looked at her date. “Hi, I’m the ex-husband. I’m sure you’ve heard of me, Terrence T-Murder Burrell.”
Without You (Quicksand Book 2) Page 2