by Noire
Barron scoffed and shook his head. “Sorry, but everybody around here knows how I feel about reality shows. I think the world has seen enough ratchet chicks get on television and fight with their baby daddies.”
“Why they gotta be ratchet just because they keep it real for America, Bump? At least they ain’t walking around with paper towel rolls stuck up they ass like some people around here!”
GiGi laughed as she took Barron by the arm and turned on her charm. “Studies have proven that the majority of television viewers are tired of scripted drama. They want spontaneity and people who have the types of problems in their lives that most women can identify with. While you may call it ‘ratchet’ lots of women call it their reality.”
Barron shrugged. “That’s cool, but what made you decide to come here? Our family isn’t that exciting and we definitely don’t have the kind of scandals that are made for television. I mean, Bunni probably has a lot of juicy lockup stories she can tell you about the trashy life she lived in New York City, but the rest of us are just regular southerners.” He chuckled. “To be honest, our lives are so boring we’d probably put your viewers to sleep and get you fired. I don’t think you wanna bother with us.”
“Well.” GiGi grinned and her smile was so sexy and gorgeous that Barron’s wood jumped up high in his pants. “I beg to differ with you Barron. I think you’re plenty interesting,” she said, cozying up close on his arm. “And handsome too. Is it possible for us to get together privately at some point so we can sit down and have a little chat?”
Barron nodded as drool damn near slid down his chin.
“I have some wine chilling in my suite right now,” he said smoothly.
“Sorry, I was just about to leave, so I’ll have to take a rain check. But tell me, what kind of wine do you prefer? Red or white?” she asked with a sexy giggle.
“White, baby,” Barron licked his lips and said hoarsely as he stared mesmerized into her smoky eyes. He leaned in close to her and whispered in her ear as his dick throbbed nice and hard, “I like it white all day and all night too, goddammit. Definitely white, baby. White . . . white . . . white.”
CHAPTER 23
It was late night inside the Dallas County Jail and the female inmates could be heard talking shit, gambling, and just being loud for no good reason. Dy-Nasty was stretched out on the top bunk reading the obscene messages scribbled on the ceiling and walls by the countless prisoners who had occupied the cell before her. The dim light that stayed on burning all night long reflected the mood of the women in lockup, which was gloomy and depressing. What made matters even worse was that Dy-Nasty’s cellie was going through heroin withdrawal. The bitch was moaning, groaning, and farting up the whole damn cell.
The entire bag was grossing Dy-Nasty out, so she pulled the thin blanket over her head and thought hard about getting up outta that hellhole as she fell into a troubled sleep.
She was up again bright and early the next morning.
“Yo, Ceee-Oooh!” Dy-Nasty sang out as she pounded on the door about thirty minutes before breakfast was due to begin. Between her dope-sick cellmate and her graphic nightmares she had barely slept at all. Even in her dreams she had been feening to get to the phone, desperate to make contact with Pat, her mother and one true friend, who she hadn’t been able to reach in a minute. On the real, Dy-Nasty was truly worried. It wasn’t like Pat to just not answer her phone, and she had a feeling something funky was going on back in Philly.
“Yo, CO!” she hollered again. “Cell two fifty-two needs to use the phone! Hurry up and crack the damn door!”
The male guard on duty had been nicknamed Shaka because of his athlete’s build and dark African features, and he had a hot jones for Dy-Nasty. He was a mean son of a bitch but he usually let Dy-Nasty get away with some things that other inmates couldn’t.
“You know it’s too early to use the phones,” Shaka said as he grinned at Dy-Nasty through her cell window. She batted her eyes and licked her luscious lips at him in return. Shaka was used to thirsty inmates tryna get at him, but he liked DyNasty’s ghetto Philly ass. “A’ight, check it,” he said, submitting. “You looking good so I’ma let you rock today.”
Shaka opened the cell door manually and let Dy-Nasty out, and she slowly switched her lovely gangsta booty past him as she gazed up at him seductively. Shaka was her early morning connection to the telephone so she needed to keep his Mandingo ass on a string. She knew there were hella cameras all around, but she also knew how to flirt on the sly and send a nigga a cheap thrill. She had a couple of hating hoes breathing down her neck because they saw how good Shaka treated her, but she wasn’t stuttin’ that shit. They could have his ass, she just needed him in her pocket for a while so she could make her little moves.
Dy-Nasty hit the phone and anxiously dialed Pat’s number again hoping that she picked up this time. To her surprise Pat picked up on the second ring.
“Hello,” she snapped after listening to the recording and accepting the call. “Who the hell is it?”
“It’s me, Mama,” Dy-Nasty said, happy to finally hear her voice. “I’m locked up down in Texas.”
“Ahhh shit!” Pat exclaimed. “What in the world happened, baby?” Pat sounded shocked but she was also excited to hear from her baby girl. “Sweetheart, I had a funny feeling something was going on with you!”
“That’s why I been trying to call you, Ma,” Dy-Nasty said as she looked over her shoulder. It was almost time to line up for breakfast so the cells began to open up and sleepy faces emerged out in the hall. “I was at the airport about to come home and them down-south bitches set me up and got me knocked! I need your help, Mama. Where the hell you been at? I was getting worried.”
“Ohhh, girl. I been going through some drama myself,” Pat said, sounding shook. “Some big mothafucka walked up on me outta nowhere and tried to kill me. I pulled my knife on him but he fucked me up and threw me in a damn Dumpster. Can you believe it? I hurt my back real bad and got my arm broke and shit, and now I keep having these real bad spasms that keep me running back and forth to the hospital. That nigga’s lucky he got the best of me though ’cause if I was a little younger I woulda cut his giant ass to pieces.”
“Damn, Mama!” Dy-Nasty said, distressed. “It’s some crazy-ass people out there! You gotta be easy walking around there on them streets. And fuck a knife, I want you to get you a burner. I’m glad you a’ight but I need you to help me now. You know it’s all Selah’s fault that I’m locked up in here. She got all stupid over that ugly engagement ring, and now I don’t know what to do!”
“You still got the money, right? That two million they was supposed to put in your account?”
Dy-Nasty sucked her teeth. “Hell, no. It’s gone. Them cheapskates closed the account and took all the money back! I don’t even have enough change for no soap or deodorant or nothing up in here.”
“Damn Indian-givers!” Pat said, sounding pissed. “They coulda let you keep that!”
“I know, Mama. But these rich people is stingy like that. I don’t know what to do! I don’t know nobody down here and I need me some help!”
“It sounds like you jammed up, baby,” Pat said, feeling real bad for Dy-Nasty. “You should try to call Selah and talk to her.”
“I been tryin’. She won’t take my calls!”
“Selfish bitch!” Pat sucked her teeth. “I guess you gonna have to bite a bullet then. Maybe eat you a slice of humble pie.”
“Huh?”
“You gonna have to go for Selah’s soft spot baby, and hit her there.”
Dy-Nasty scrunched up her face. “Where? In her eyeball?”
“No, you damn dummy!” Pat spit, “In her heart, girl. Hit her in her heart. Try to get in good with her and use whatever you can to break her down. You gonna have to come across like you remorseful and you wanna be useful and do something good for her at the same time.”
“Yeah!” Dy-Nasty said getting excited. “You right, Mama. You right! I’ma ca
ll her again right now.”
“Uh-uh!” Pat said sharply. “No, don’t call her just yet,” she explained. “You should write her old snobby-ass a couple of letters first. Make them sound real sorry and try to get on her good side. Rich uppity niggas always like their asses kissed in writing so they can read it over and over again. It might take a little while for her to act right, but you gotta be patient in order for this type of thing to work. Now, you do what you gotta do, you hear me?”
“Yes, Mama. I hear you,” Dy-Nasty said, her mind turning. “Thank you so much. I knew you would come through for me! I’ma start putting this shit together right now. I’ll call you later. I love you, Pat! Stay by the phone and wait for my next call.”
“I will, baby,” Pat said sweetly. “I love you too, baby. You just make sure you do what I said, okay, Dy-Nasty? Keep me posted.”
As soon as Dy-Nasty put the receiver down she turned around and caught some skinny Spanish chick breathing down her neck. She was standing there looking like she wanted to use the phone, but she could forget that shit.
“Bitch back the fuck up. It’s a wrap for this phone, this shit’s minez right now,” Dy-Nasty barked, blacking out on the girl for invading her space. She didn’t even have nobody else to call but she picked up the phone and started punching in random digits anyway. Sheiiit, you had to be forceful up in this joint because bitches would try to play you for a punk in a heartbeat. And Dy-Nasty was nobody’s punk. She was on a serious mission now and she was gonna have to step her game up to a whole ’nother level if she had any chance of accomplishing it!
Barron had dropped almost half of his workload at Dominion Oil in order to devote some quality time to his father’s campaign, and while he still put in a lot of hours working every day, he found time to play a little bit too.
He had a big problem with everything his father was doing to win this election and get a crack at chairing the commission, and all he could think was that the oil rig explosion had not only bumped Viceroy’s head, it had rattled his fuckin’ brains around too.
For somebody who had always been so concerned about his image, letting some gigantic black nightmare like Peaches stay at the crib and giving Bunni the green light to have a reality show was some of the last shit the family needed to be doing. But Barron had to admit that some good was coming out of it. That stunning female producer that he’d recently met was really something else. She was a bad-ass white chick, a red-headed sight for sore eyes, and Barron couldn’t stop thinking about her. He knew exactly what he could do with some of that and he couldn’t wait to get his chance.
Just this morning she had pranced up in the joint in a pair of skin-tight white jeggings that put her long curvy legs and sexy booty bump on full display. Her pert features and her beautiful green eyes had sent a lump of wood rising down in his drawers, and if his father wasn’t in the room Barron would’ve gotten his mack on right then and there.
He had jumped in line to be interviewed for her pre-assessment, and after laying that smooth black man’s charm down on her he was pretty sure she would be choosing his family for a film date.
And despite all the eye-rolling and teeth-sucking that shade-throwing Bunni had cast on him, GiGi really seemed to take to him too. In fact, she had thrown him a huge hint about hanging out together sometimes and Barron had tossed her one right back. He had told her breakfast was his favorite meal of the day and that he could eat it anytime, morning or night. She’d told him breakfast was her favorite meal too, and that when it came to pancakes her stomach didn’t have a clock on it. Barron loved that shit, and he decided that one day he was gonna put her to the test. They had agreed to meet for lunch and Barron couldn’t wait. He had spent the morning jacking off furiously in his room, stroking his dick to all kinds of vivid images of the girl of his dreams, and this time when he nutted in his palm it wasn’t Mink’s sweet pussy and high, round ass that he saw in his erotic fantasy anymore. It was GiGi’s.
It was high noon and Bunni was ready to get her munch on. Selah was sitting on a breakfast stool sipping from a cup of herbal tea. Mrs. Katie had fried Bunni and Mink up a batch of jumbo-sized prawns and whipped up some homemade tartar sauce to go with them.
The two of them were heaping mounds of steaming hot shrimp and fries on their plates when the chimes sounded near the front door of the mansion, and they heard voices laughing and talking in the parlor.
“Who dat?” Bunni looked at Mink and raised her eyebrow as she chomped down on a juicy bite of shrimp.
Mink shrugged. “I’on’t know. But it sounds just like—”
“GiGi!” Bunni leaped to her feet and hauled ass out of the kitchen hollering, “GiGi’s here! Woot-Woot! My gurl GiGi is here!”
A few moments later they rolled back in the kitchen with Bunni practically dragging the chick over to the counter while her mouth flapped a hundred miles a minute. “I thought you said you was gonna call me? If you brought your tail all the way over here then I know you got some good news, right! So what did your bosses say, huh? We in, right? Where’s the camera crew and when we gonna get to filming? We in, right? We in there, baybee!”
GiGi had a bright smile on her face as she laughed at Bunni’s excitement and greeted everyone sweetly. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Dominion. Nice to see you, Mrs. Katie. How’s it going, Mink?”
Mink paused with a fry halfway to her mouth, busting the funky groove right off the bat, but Bunni was like an over-grown puppy as she jumped up and down and damn near peed on the floor at the sight of the red-haired beauty.
“Now, Bunni,” GiGi finally turned to address her and answer her million questions. “I did tell you that you’d be seeing me soon, but I didn’t know it would be as soon as today. The executives at the station still haven’t come to a firm decision yet, although they are in the process of narrowing things down. I’m sorry I don’t have a better answer for you, but I’m hoping you’ll continue to be patient while we work things out.”
Bunni’s mouth hit the floor.
“You mean you still don’t have no answer? Well what the hell you come over here getting me all hyped up for?”
“Well, actually”—GiGi turned slightly and wiggled her fingers over her shoulder with a sugary grin—“I’m here to spend some time with Barron today. We just had lunch at the quaintest French restaurant ever, and he invited me over for a little swim.”
Bunni whirled around. If looks coulda killed then Barron’s white girl–lovin’ ass woulda been stretched out on the floor! He stood there in the doorway with a shit-eating grin on his face that all four black women in the kitchen would’ve loved to slap off.
“Barron?” Bunni snapped. “What the hell do Barron got to do with this? I keep telling you this is our thingy-thang! Barron ain’t down with none a’ this—”
“Er, Bunni, this is a personal visit,” GiGi said and placed her manicured hand on Bunni’s arm soothingly. “It has nothing to do with our business matters,” she explained.
“That’s right,” Barron said as he walked over and took GiGi by the arm and led her toward the back door. He winked at Bunni and shot her a bitch-ass look. “Chill out, Bunni. Ain’t nobody trying to get in your damn business. Believe me, this is all pleasure.”
Two days later, GiGi and Barron sat inside of a Waffle House diner having breakfast at four in the morning. GiGi hated breakfast food, but when Barron called in the middle of the night and suggested they go get some, she had hopped up and got dressed and met him there.
GiGi ordered cheesey eggs and pancakes while Barron got himself a big plate of chicken and waffles. They had been talking on the phone constantly, and while Barron was jonesing to be up under her, GiGi had him eating out of the palm of her hand as she kept him on a tight string and fed him little bits and pieces of her time.
“Thanks for meeting me here,” Barron told her as he poured syrup all over his waffles. “I couldn’t sleep and I was hungry. Not too many women would get out of their beds to come have pancakes with a frie
nd they just met.”
“Aww, Barron,” GiGi responded as she forked down some eggs. “I know it’s only been a very short time, but I feel like we’re good, good friends. And that’s what friends do.”
Barron stared at her across the table. He would much rather have been about to eat her than those damn pancakes. He had to admit to that he was feeling Miss Molinex. And on a real deep level too. The girl was just perfect. She had everything he wanted in a woman. She was beautiful, she had mad sex appeal, she had charisma, and best of all, she was intellectual and driven toward her own success.
And that’s where she had it going on over Pilar. He couldn’t stand no greedy, gold-digging chick. While Pilar was thirsty and demanding and borderline desperate to get up in his pockets and be his wife, GiGi didn’t need shit from him. She was already doing her thing without his money, and that attracted him. He was feening for her and enjoying her company, and Barron felt their instant attraction was organic.
“Well about this friends thing,” Barron said as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I’m not gonna front, GiGi. I’m feeling you like crazy and I would love to get with you on a deeper level. I think me and you could make something good happen together. And with time and a little patience, I think we could even become a power couple. I’m not trying to force anything on you, I just want you to know how I feel. Besides, since you got up out of your bed to come eat pancakes with me, then I know you must be feeling a brotha a little bit, so why not give me some play?”
Barron closed his little speech out by flashing GiGi that confident Dominion grin. Even though he was adopted, he had Viceroy’s charming magnetism down pat. GiGi had long since stopped chewing her rubbery eggs and stomach-bloating pancakes, and all she could do was smile. She waited for a few moments before she spoke, pausing for effect as she stared deeply into Barron’s eyes.
“I was wondering when that was coming,” GiGi said softly. “I feel like I’ve been waiting a million years to hear those words come out of your mouth. I really like you too, Barron. I think you’re a really handsome, funny, and cool guy. I hope you’re asking me to be your girlfriend, because I would love to have a relationship with you. A really close relationship, if you know what I mean.”