Mine

by Kenya Wright

  I snapped out of my thoughts. “Sorry.”

  “What the hell?” he asked. “Do you need a break?”

  “No.”

  “You’ve got your period?”

  “No.”

  “Boyfriend or girlfriend broke up with you?” he asked.

  “I’m not dating anybody.”

  “Depressed or something?”

  “A little.”

  He waved my confession away. “Snap out of it. The people need this cover.”

  The People? Really?

  “This cover is going to be the rave of September. There are women whose only joy in life is picking up that new edition of Livid magazine and finding out the best seasons outfits to grab.”

  Yippee! Now I’m all cheery again. My life has so much purpose.

  The photographer snapped another picture and then sighed. “I give up. You’ve lost the sparkle.”

  Two people helped me off the zebra.

  I muttered, “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Be better. There’s thousands of girls that would be happy to sit their pretty asses on a zebra all day.”

  Fair enough.

  He gestured at a blonde model in a yellow beaded bikini. “Come on, Tara.”

  Yellow? What animal will you be sitting on?

  A violent roar sounded in the distance. The photographer rolled his eyes. “What’s up with the lions? Are they coming or not?”

  His assistant hurried over with a notepad. “Sorry. They were feeding them first—”

  “I don’t care. Get them out here now, before we lose sun.”

  Maybe, you should make sure the lions are fed though. I’m just saying.

  I walked off set, barely making it in those silver-tipped shoes.

  Where’s Rico?

  My bodyguard usually stood right on set. I hadn’t seen him leave.

  Now’s not the time to be disappearing, Rico.

  Panic hit me. My best friend, CiCi met me and kept my pace. She was a gorgeous woman with red hair and pale skin. Freckles brushed her cheeks. “Are you okay, Zola?”

  “Yes. Now that you’re here.” I breathed a sigh of relief. At least someone could walk me back to the dressing room. I’d felt like such a punk these days, scared to be on my own.

  “Don’t let this sicko get to you.” CiCi offered me her bottle of water.

  I shook my head. “Thanks. I’ll grab something in the dressing room.”

  She scanned the area around us. “Where’s your bodyguard Rico?”

  I checked over my shoulder. “He must be in the dressing room.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back. No one’s bothering you on my watch.”

  “Thanks, CiCi. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

  She snapped her fingers twice. “I’m freaking awesome.”

  Giggling, I admitted, “You are.”

  Over the years, we’d been there for each other. Friends. Confidantes. Allies. We’d dealt with rejections and successes in the modeling game. Long-term friendships were rare in this world. Somehow, CiCi and I had beat the odds.

  “Let’s just get you to your dressing room.” CiCi whistled at the people walking by. “Damn, Z. This is a good gig. I wish I could’ve been hired. But black is in. No one wants to see my white ass right now.”

  I flinched a little, but let it go. Ever since several top grossing movies featuring all black casts dominated Hollywood, every other entertainment industry had gone Pro-Black. Suddenly, the darker, the better. The more African features, the more the person was needed. Cringe-worthy concept or not, the Pro-Black mania kept me booked.

  Therefore, CiCi’s comment had some truth to it.

  But I also believed I’d worked my butt off to get this gig. For years, I’d taken the fashion designers others wouldn’t wear. All indie and on the rise. Now those indie designers were top ones, and CiCi and others realized they’d made a mistake.

  “Are you doing Trigger’s album release tonight?” CiCi asked.

  “Yeah. I have to.”

  We just broke up, and now I have to be at his album release. That won’t be uncomfortable.

  CiCi grinned. “Oh yeah. I forgot. You grabbed the Natural Health cigarettes deal. Is it okay if I come with you?”

  I nodded, close to limping in the shoes. It would’ve been rude to take them off and walk barefoot. The designer was there, and artists were very sensitive people.

  I glanced over my shoulder. The designer watched with pride. Smiling, I waved goodbye to him.

  CiCi stopped at the door. “Since Rico isn’t here do you need any help with—”

  “Oh no. I’m fine.” I yawned. “I just need to find Rico, get a quick nap back at home, and then head to the event tonight.”

  “Cool. My agent is here for one of the other girls. I’m going to talk to him.” She bit her bottom lip. “Could I ask a favor about the event?”

  “Sure.”

  “My budget is low. Could I use your makeup team?”

  I knew York would bitch about the higher bill that would come from helping CiCi out, but that was fine. “Sure. We can meet tonight.”

  “Thanks.” She hugged me. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay.” I watched her rush off, almost asking her to stay. The walk to the dressing room had relaxed me, but now that I was alone, my shaky nerves kicked in.

  Still hurrying, CiCi called over her shoulder. “Oh, and if I find Rico, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks.” I turned back to my dressing room.

  Where are you Rico?

  When I opened the door, I froze in terror.

  Rico wasn’t there, but somebody else was.

  3

  Muscled Ass Memories

  Zola

  A man stood in my dressing room towering over everything.

  He had his back to me.

  His black suit jacket was tight against his broad shoulders. I directed my gaze to his muscled ass. Once I went there, I couldn’t help to roam down his thick legs. Even though the finely tailored suit hugged him, muscle pushed against the fabric and probably roped every inch of his body.

  Where’s Rico? Is this my stalker? No, it couldn’t be.

  He turned. Dark eyes met mine. And then, I drank in his gorgeous face. My body reacted. Old memories of a long-time crush curled around my heart.

  Hunter? How the hell did I not recognize him?

  At this point, I should’ve had that muscled ass memorized. I’d spent a good part of my years drooling over him from behind.

  Hunter Jasper was seven feet of muscle and anger. Handsome. Olive complexion. Dark, wavy hair. Even when he frowned, he dazzled women—old or young, teachers and old church ladies. He had my mom wrapped around his big fingers, but that was because he was an absolute sweetheart. It was hard not to love him.

  My voice came out shaky. “Hunter?”

  The fact that I was capable of speech amazed me. My knees went weak, and those silver-tipped high heels weren’t helping. I leaned back in the doorway to balance myself.

  Memories, erratic and disjointed, played in my mind.

  A designer black suit adorned him. The rock-hard bulge of biceps and man pressed against the expensive fabric. As usual, Hunter was large, lethal, and just as dark as I remembered him. Although he was white, his scowl was black. His gaze too. And the gun in the holster under his heavy muscled arm was black as well.

  Darkness. All black and shadowed. Sometimes, I yearned to hide in it. Be warm from it. Find solace in it.

  Currently, I wondered if the gun was as cold as that silent stare that he had directed my way.

  Deeper down, in the naughtier parts of my mind, I wondered how he looked under that shirt. Under those pants. Was he as hard as he looked? Cut muscle? Big, bulging arms and thighs? Washboard abs?

  Then, for a few seconds, but I wasn’t sure, I could’ve sworn he drank my half-clothed body in. Maybe, for a short minute, Hunter’s gaze roamed over my body. I tensed, realizing that I onl
y wore the zebra printed bikini. His jaw tightened when his gaze hit my tiny bottoms.

  “Hunter?” I whispered.

  That deep voice vibrated through me. “Hey, Zola.”

  He grabbed the robe on my chair, walked over, and handed it to me.

  It took me a few seconds to catch my breath. I cleared my throat and took the robe, putting it on between words. “Why are you here?”

  “Your brother told me you had a stalker.”

  Jesus, York. I also told you I had it handled and that everything would be okay.

  I put the robe on. “York must be pretty scared.”

  Hunter turned around as if to give me privacy. “Why do you think York is pretty scared?”

  “Because he called you.” I tied the belt, stepped inside my dressing room, and closed the door. “York basically brought a bazooka to a water fight.”

  Hunter turned around. “I like bazookas.”

  “It’s still special coming from you.”

  He pulled out my chair for me. “You should take the stalker seriously.”

  “Of course, I am. It’s just you’re one of the big guys. You guard world leaders. I’m a model trying to get to supermodel status one picture at a time.”

  “You’re already a supermodel to me. You’re just as important as my past clients. Even more. You know what I would do for you.”

  “I do.” I swallowed.

  An old high school memory flashed in my head.

  I had no idea that Hunter would be coming to my high school’s cafeteria during lunch. Soothing a little broken heart, I’d been staring at my plate and making circles with noodles and red sauce.

  The females in the cafeteria were the ones to alert me of Hunter’s entrance. Whispers rose. Someone whistled.

  I looked up and saw Hunter stomping toward me. “Hunter?”

  And then he passed my way as if he hadn’t seen me at all.

  “Hunter?” I rose and followed him, realizing that Hunter had not been going my way. He’d been heading for the football table.

  “Oh shit!” I hurried. “No! Hunter, please don’t.”

  Hunter grabbed Justin, the school quarterback and my cheating ex-boyfriend. In a blur, Hunter punched him. Justin fell to the floor.

  The cafeteria went crazy. Kids jumped on top of tables. Football players, who would have usually joined in a fight, slipped out of the area as Hunter slammed Justin against the brick wall.

  Hunter growled. “Tell Zola you’re sorry.”

  Spit fell from Justin’s lips. His shirt was ripped at the collar, and a large bump had already formed on his bottom lip. “I-I’m sorry. Z-zola.”

  Hunter growled again. “That was her friend you kissed.”

  Someone yelled out, “Oh shit! Justin cheated on Zola.”

  A girl shook her head on my right and snapped her fingers. “I knew he wasn’t shit.”

  I thought Hunter would let Justin go, but he slung Justin to the ground and kicked him in the stomach again and again. The crowd roared. A few girls shrieked.

  Screaming, I ran to Hunter and grabbed his waist, trying to pull him back. “Please! He’s sorry! He’s sorry!”

  Blood spilled from Justin’s mouth. He wagged his arms back and forth, but it didn’t appear like he knew where he was or what was going on.

  Hunter opened his mouth in shock as if he’d left his head and had just returned. “Fuck.”

  My hands shook, but I wouldn’t let go of his waist. “He’s sorry, Hunter. He really is.”

  “You still care for him?”

  “Not anymore, and you’ve got to get out of here!”

  “I will.” He walked off.

  I grabbed my books and followed. For one, I didn’t want to be in school that day anyway. Second, once Mom got off work, she would kill us both. We might as well enjoy the day while we could.

  Hunter headed to the parking lot and glanced over his shoulder at me.

  I shrugged. “I’m going with you.”

  “Fine.”

  “Mom’s going to go crazy when—”

  “She won’t. Who do you think told me? I had to rush here before she did.” He pulled out Mom’s car keys and waved them at me. “I took her keys, so she wouldn’t go anywhere.”

  “How the hell did she find out?”

  “York read some email from your computer.”

  “Jesus. All of you are crazy!”

  “Just understand this.” He opened the door for me and scowled. “Be goddamn careful who you give your heart to.”

  I widened my eyes.

  “Because the next guy that hurts you, I’ll kill him.” He shut the door.

  And that was the end of conversation.

  I gazed at the new Hunter that stood in front of me.

  He was not like most men—he took no orders or suggestions, unless they were from Mom. Other than that, he ruled his own world with an iron fist, never letting anybody too close.

  His beauty wielded power. Hunter’s face opened doors when people should’ve locked them. It said angel, instead of demon. Love, instead of hate. Fixed, instead of broken. His gorgeousness hid the darkness inside him. It was all a mirage in many ways. An illusion. His face was everything and nothing at all.

  Basically, he knew how to dominate a room and disappear in the same space within seconds.

  “So…” I tried to gather my thoughts. “How are you?”

  You barely respond to my texts, and we haven’t talked in years. Are you not going to say something about it?!

  Ignoring the question, Hunter sat in the other chair. “I fired your bodyguard, Rico.”

  “What?”

  “He’s a garbage bodyguard.”

  I held out my hands. “Yeah. Probably next to you, but—”

  “Did you know he had three ex-girlfriends put a restraining order on him?”

  “What?” I blinked. “How do you know that?”

  “My friend, Stark is looking into all the people who work around you.”

  “You think Rico was my stalker? He was there when the guy came up to me—”

  “No, I talked to Rico.”

  Something about the way Hunter said it didn’t seem like it was a light discussion.

  “Rico is clear.” Hunter gestured to the corner of the room. “He has nothing to do with the stalker.”

  I turned, shrieked, and jumped out of the chair.

  Rico sat in the corner tied up by rope. Duct tape kept his mouth shut. A dark wet spot stained his jeans. Embarrassment covered his face.

  “Oh my God.” I searched for scissors to release him. “Rico, are you okay? Come on, Hunter. You didn’t have to do this.”

  Hunter handed me a hooked gold knife with a rainbow handle. He’d simply pulled it out of his pocket like it was no big deal. Had it not been such a shocking moment, I would’ve asked if he’d bought the multicolored weapon from a friendly fairy.

  With a bored tone, he said, “A stalker is after you, and Rico lets himself get tied up by anybody?”

  “You’re not just anybody.” I grabbed the heavy knife and cut at the rope, doing a piss-poor job.

  Hunter took the knife and freed the guard himself. “Stop giving this guy excuses. He’s getting paid to protect you, not be your best friend.”

  Once Rico was free, he stood. Anger blazed from him. I stepped in between them and reached out to undo his duct tape. Rico backed away and yanked it off himself as he walked off.

  Hunter said from behind me, “If you have to protect Rico from me, then he sucks at his job.”

  I turned around. The door slammed shut. Rico must’ve fled.

  The last time I’d seen Hunter flashed in my head. It had been five years ago, our last Christmas together. I hadn’t seen him since.

  I stood in the middle of my mom’s doorway begging him, “Please don’t go.”

  My voice cracked.

  I hated when Hunter ran away. Everything about him screamed strength and power. But then these moments came when something t
riggered him to flee.

  “Please, don’t leave, Hunter.”

  “I’m sorry.” He cupped my chin with his big hands. “Don’t cry, Zola, don’t. I’m so sorry.”

  I leaned into his hands, trying to inhale him.

  He brushed a tear away with his thumb.

  “I don’t understand,” I whispered. “Did I do something?”

  “No.”

  It sounded like a lie slipping off his tongue. He wasn’t telling me all the truth. Deep in my gut, I knew that it was more.

  “The holidays are hard for me.” Loneliness flashed in those icy eyes. “I’m sorry…”

  I shook the moment out of my mind.

  “Are you okay?” Hunter asked, bringing me back to this new odd reality—him here right in front of me after five years.

  Why did you leave? Why are you back?

  Unable to process everything so fast, I asked, “So, you’re giving me a new guard?”

  Hunter appeared unfazed. “No, I’m taking your guard’s place.”

  I gulped at the news. I thought it would be years before I saw Hunter again. York and Mom updated me from time to time, but overall, I’d tried to push him out of my mind. If he wouldn’t text or email me back, then I wouldn’t send them. If he couldn’t answer the phone, then I wouldn’t pick it up to call him.

  Resentment wrapped around my heart even though a large part of me was happy to see him again. And now he stood there explaining he would be my guard, protecting me every day from dawn to dusk and even later.

  I cleared my throat. “For how long?”

  “Until your stalker is gone, and then I’ll assign one of my men to you fulltime.”

  “Your men are scary.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  I kicked off the heels that had been causing my feet to ache. Even with the heels and being six feet, I didn’t meet him eye level.

  Hunter watched my movement. “Thoughts?”

  “I’m glad you’re taking over.” I walked over and sat back down in the chair. “I have no doubt you’ll…do something about it. I just don’t want anybody being…”

  “You don’t want me to kill him?”

  “Yes.”

  He sat down too. “Let’s consider this.”

  Oh, here we go.

  I tried not to stare at him. I did my best to not look his way, but I did. I studied the changes in his face and body since I’d seen him last. He’d gotten bigger—more muscular. And his face had gone from young god to fallen angel—carved angles and sculpted lines.