“Yeah, well, I might have gotten my ass kicked a couple of times, but I had sense enough to leave men alone a long time ago. I haven’t had a boyfriend in years. And your ass shoulda been taking notes on how not to get your ass kicked instead of running head first into any fool who liked to kick ass.”
“Gotta go, Ma.”
“Still can’t stand hearing the truth, huh? Boogie told me you tryna date again. You better not. You know every man you even look at kicks your ass. Some fool be done killed you and that’d kill that boy because as sorry a mother as you are, he still loves you. You heard about that girl in East St. Louis, didn’t you? Her boyfriend shot her. You don’t—”
Time to hang up before I curse this woman completely out. “I said I gotta go!”
I hung up and blew out a breath. So they were still talking about me behind my back? I blamed my mom for establishing that kind of relationship with him when he was little and treating me like I was Armand’s sister instead of his mother. That mess had stuck despite the effort I put forth to be a good mother to him after we moved out of her house. He respected me as his mother in some ways but not in others. It irked the shit out of me.
And my mother’s lack of respect for me? Well, I was sadly used to that.
A knock came at my office door, and since my mother’s call had intensified my sour mood, I groaned, took a deep breath, released it, and yelled, “Come in!”
It opened to reveal a woman I mildly recognized—short, wearing a microscopic red dress, her hair in a flowing weave, her makeup flawless. With a slight frown on my face, I asked, “May I help you?”
Her eyes rounded my office before settling on me. “You Ms. Hampton, right?”
I straightened my posture and nodded. “Yes, and you are?”
“Sheila Townsend, Shemar’s mom.”
My stomach dropped a little as I remembered the encounter at her house, an encounter that reminded me too much of my past life. “Oh, um…have a seat.”
She did, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. She looked nice, pretty without the blood and bruises on her face.
“How are you? Shemar?” I asked.
“We good. A lot better since Domo is locked up.”
Good, she hadn’t tried to get him out. Leland would be glad to hear that. He’d been worried about Shemar. “That’s great. So what can I help you with today?”
She dug in her purse and pulled out a piece of paper. “I was wondering if you could give this to Leland McClain?”
I reached across my desk and took the slip of paper. On it was her name and a phone number. “Um, why?” was all I could think to say.
“So he can check on Shemar. I know they kind of bonded and stuff, and since my mom helped me get my phone back on, I wanted him to have my number.” She smiled at me, and that’s when I realized what was going on. She was tryna get with my damn man. She’d mistaken his concern and help for him wanting her. She had probably dolled herself up hoping to run into him here. I’d be damned if I gave him that number. Screw that.
So I said, “Um, Ms. Townsend, Mr. McClain doesn’t work here. He was just a volunteer, and as you know, the program he was helping out with has ended.”
“Yeah, but you know how to reach him, right?” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I’m just tryna shoot my shot, you know? We’re like the same age and stuff. I think he might like me. Hook a sister up.”
Hellllll, no!
I stared down at the paper then handed it back across my desk to her. “I’m not in the business of hooking sisters up, Ms. Townsend. If you need the help of the center in an official capacity, I’ll gladly assist you, but I can’t help you with this.”
She snatched the paper from me and huffed her way out of my office while mumbling, “Stuck-up bitch.”
I’ll be that before I give my man your number, ho’.
I closed my eyes and shook my head. What kind of day is this?
I got the official answer of “a day from hell” when I received a text from my cousin, Shelby, three seconds after Sheila Townsend stormed out of my office. It read: U seen this shit, cuz? Sorry motherfucker.
With it, was a link, a link to a picture on the fucking Tea Steepers website, a picture of Leland—my damn Leland—with his hand on pop singer Honey Combs’ back, obviously leading her somewhere. Short, so light-skinned she was damn near racially ambiguous, big fake-breasted, highly over-rated, no-singing-ass Honey Combs of the group Confections, which she was a member of along with her sisters Sugar and Candy. The caption read:
Looks like Honey bagged Leland “Fastlane” McClain. The two were spotted entering Leland’s LA nightclub, Second Avenue. Get your life, Honey!
The picture was posted that morning.
“Corny name-having bitch,” I muttered. “Sorry cheating-ass nigga,” I added.
I closed the Google Chrome app and told myself this was probably my fault for making him keep us a secret. Then I told myself he’d said he was okay with it. Then I fully realized that the text had come from Shelby, who I hadn’t told about Leland, which meant Zabrina had told her, which meant her supposed-to-be-keeping-a-secret ass had probably told other people, which meant my damn son was going to find out only to see this man out with another woman, reinforcing his theory that men weren’t shit and that I had no business dating. Then he’d tell his BFF, my mom, who’d throw this shit in my face like she did everything else. So after I text-cursed Zabrina out, I grabbed my purse and car keys and left, went home, and collapsed into my bed. By some miracle, I managed to fall right to sleep. When I woke up to a missed call from Leland’s ass and a text from him informing me that he was back in town earlier than expected, I rolled my eyes and decided I needed a damn drink.
*****
Around ten that evening, I found myself at Plush. I had ignored any calls I received from Zabrina’s broken refrigerator ass, so I sat at the bar alone. When a guy asked me to dance, I obliged him and actually enjoyed stepping to 24K Magic with him. We ended up dancing through two more songs, including a slow one, before he offered to buy me another drink. He sat with me at the bar, and I was laughing at a moderately funny joke he’d just told me when I decided to check my phone. For what, I don’t know. Maybe an apology from Zabrina? I actually did have a text, but it wasn’t from her. It was from Leland: Who the fuck is that nigga all up in ur face?
I frowned, then turned my head. The club wasn’t crowded since it was the middle of the week, so I quickly spotted his tall ass sitting at a table near the dancefloor. How in the world had I missed him? My ass must’ve been drunk.
Me: What are you doing here?
DLS: My woman’s been ignoring me so I accepted my friend’s invitation to check this place out. Who the fuck is that nigga trying to get his ass kicked? And what the fuck u got on?
Me: What friend? Honey Combs?
DLS: U saw the picture? Is that why u tryna get that nigga killed?
Me: Yeah, I saw it. What the hell was that?
DLS: Some fabricated shit. Meet me in VIP and I’ll explain.
“Important message?” the guy asked. I think his name was Vincent, but since I was at least forty-percent drunk, I can’t be sure. Hell, I couldn’t even remember what fake name I gave him. I had a whole list of them I used when I went to the club.
“Yeah, sorry about this. Give me a second,” I replied.
“No worries, pretty lady.”
I smiled up at him.
DLS: What that nigga just say? I will fuck him completely up!
Me: None of your business and stop texting me. I’m busy right now.
I tucked my phone in my purse and resumed my conversation with Vincent. Five minutes later, Leland appeared at the bar, right next to me. I knew that because I smelled him, but I didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, I pretended to be interested in whatever Vincent was saying. However, Vincent quickly lost interest in me.
“Leland McClain? I can’t believe this!” he gushed.
I involuntarily rolled my
eyes.
“Yeah,” Leland responded to the guy, his voice caustic. Then he leaned in close to me. “Let me holla at you real quick.”
Oblivious to the fact that Leland was not trying to converse with him and was three seconds from beating his ass, Vincent said, “Man, it’s great to meet you! Can’t wait for you and the Cyclones to hit the court this season! I got season tickets.”
“Uh, excuse me,” I said, grabbing my purse and leaving the two men behind.
I was almost to the restroom when I felt a hand on my bare arm and tried unsuccessfully to snatch away. Turning to face him with a frown on my face, I hissed, “Let me go!”
Leland leaned in close, and said, “Nope. Bring your ass up to VIP or I’ma tell the whole damn world we fucking. Matter of fact, I’ll fly my ass down to Miami and tell your son in person.”
“I-I need to pee,” was all I could come up with, but it was the truth. That liquor was running right through me.
“Then pee. I’ll be waiting for you up there. I’m not playing with you, Kim. Let me see you talking to that nigga again, and I’ma turn this motherfucker out.”
So after I peed, I carried my ass to the stairs that led to VIP, where the big burly man who was guarding them gave me a smile and moved aside to allow me access to them. Plush’s VIP was a series of roped-off areas, some with varying-sized tables and others with couches. The entire VIP section was empty except for Leland, who I found sitting on a sofa.
“Where is your friend, the one who invited you here?” I asked, as I approached him.
“He left,” Leland replied, without looking up at me.
“Who was it?”
“Drayveon Walker.”
Drayveon was another member of the Cyclones. But instead of acknowledging that, I said, “Oh, I thought maybe you were here with Honey Combs or one of her sisters. Or shit, maybe you’re messing with all three of them.”
“Sit down, Kim,” was his response.
“I don’t want to sit down.”
He finally looked up at me with lifted brows. “Sit down, Kim.”
Remembering that he was blackmailing me, I plopped down on the couch, scooting away from him, but he slid close to me, crowding me into the arm of the sofa.
“I don’t know what makes you think you can play with me like this, but you got me fucked up. You gonna make me catch a charge up in here,” he said.
“You’re gonna kick your fan’s ass? Really, Leland?”
“You think I won’t? I will go down there and dot that nigga’s eye right now!”
“I think you’re a cheating asshole who has the nerve to be upset about me talking to another man when you had your hand all on that no-singing trick’s back and shit. I got you fucked up? Naw, you got me fucked up! I don’t care if we’re a secret! That was disrespectful as hell! I ain’t no Khloe Kardashian!”
“And I ain’t no got-damn, Tristan Thompson! That shit he did don’t make no sense. Hell, if a nigga wanna fuck around, why get in a relationship?”
“You tell me!” He tried to kiss me, but I pushed him away. “We’re in public. Someone could see us!”
“I don’t care!”
“I do!”
“Ain’t nobody coming up here, Kim! Damn!”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I paid for the whole floor after I spotted you!”
“Oh…”
“Yeah.” He backed away from me a little and shook his head. “I’m not messing with Honey’s young ass, Kim.”
“She’s your age, Leland.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Look, I’m not messing with anyone but you. I don’t want anyone but you. I saw her when I was heading into my club, we spoke to each other, and I escorted her inside. Then we went our separate ways. That’s it.”
“Why’d you have to touch her, though?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know…it’s a habit, I guess.”
“Well, you need to break it.”
“I know. My bad, baby. But damn, we grown. You supposed to confront me about this shit, curse me out, slap me or something, not ignore me. That shit gave me a headache. Then I come here, and you got a nigga all in your face while you’re wearing that little-ass dress. The fuck, Kim?”
“I’m sorry. The men in my past were the types you just have to cut all contact with for them to get the point.”
“Well, I ain’t them and I ain’t done what they did to you. Damn, can you at least put me in the right category? Shit!”
“I said I’m sorry! Give me a break. I had a bad day. Then I saw that picture and it just sent me over the edge.”
Concern filled his eyes. “What happened today? You all right?”
“Shemar’s mom came to see me. She and Shemar are fine. Her man is still in jail, but she wanted me to give you her number so y’all can hook up. When I refused, she basically cursed me out. Then my evil mother called to throw my past into my face like she always does. I haven’t been sleeping. And—”
“Wait, why you ain’t been sleeping?”
“Chronic insomnia. Been dealing with it for a while now.”
“But you always sleep when you spend the night with me.”
“That’s the only time I sleep, but you weren’t here.”
He stared at me, then kissed me, then pulled me onto his lap so that I was straddling him and my little-ass dress was up over my hips. “Come with me next time.”
“Leland—”
He leaned in and kissed my neck. “Don’t argue with me, just say yes, baby.”
As he gripped my ass with both of his big hands, I muttered, “Okay. Yes.”
“I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
“Hey, why you ain’t never danced for me like you did for that dude downstairs?”
“I wasn’t dancing for him, I was dancing with him, Leland.”
“Same thing. And that damn dress…”
“You really hate this dress, huh?”
“Naw, I love it.”
“Good, I pulled it from the back of my ho’ closet just for this occasion.”
“Ho’ closet, huh?”
“Yeah. Not that I’m a ho’; I just like to dress like one sometimes. I firmly believe that every woman should have a ho’ closet.”
“Well, you gon’ have to rename yours the Leland closet, because you can only wear stuff like this for me now.”
“Is that right?”
“It’s damn right.”
“Hmm…are you jealous of that guy, the one I was dancing with?”
“Hell, yeah!”
“Because I danced with him?”
“Yeah.”
“You want me to dance for you?”
He licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah.”
I grinned at him and lifted from his lap. As Migos’ Stir Fry blasted through the club, I bent over and shook my ass in his face, felt him smack my left butt cheek, then turned around and rolled my hips for him while mouthing what I knew of the lyrics. I moved to turn my back to him again and back it up on him, but he grabbed me and pulled me into his lap, tilted his head to the side, and with heavy eyelids, said, “Come here,” before kissing me so passionately I almost fell off his lap.
When we broke apart, we were both out of breath.
Gripping my butt, he said, “Raise up a little.”
I did and watched with rapt attention as he unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants, felt my yoni begin to deliquesce from the mere idea of doing it with him in semi-public, and after he lifted up to pull his pants down, I slid my own panties to the side and sank down on his erection. He pulled the top of my off-the-shoulder dress down and glanced up at me when he found that I was wearing no bra. The look in his eyes was a combination of anger and desire as he lowered his head, taking my nipple into his mouth.
I gripped his shoulders, threw my head back, and moaned loudly as I slid up and down his shaft, and Leland murmur
ed against my breast, “Shit, I think I love you.”
16
“What-up-there-now, Nephew?!”
“What up, Unc?”
Sitting up on the side of the bed, I watched Kim as she ducked into the bathroom. I’d finally moved into my place in her building, two floors above her condo, which I’d still never set foot in, because even though her son hadn’t been in town since July, nearly two months ago, she was afraid he might show up and catch me there. What was really crazy was that he didn’t even have a key to the place, so it really wasn’t like he could just pop in there on us. Nevertheless, us spending time together there was out of the question. I couldn’t lie; the whole secrecy thing was getting old and irritating the shit out of me. I was a grown-ass man who’d only ever messed with grown-ass, Mary J Blige, Just Fine and Jill Scott, Golden women. The types of women who did what they wanted with whom they wanted when they wanted, and that was probably what attracted me to them—their freedom. But Kim? Shit, being with her felt like I was a grown man sneaking around with a chick who was still in high school and had a fucking curfew.
Free, she was not.
I really cared about her and wanted to share what we had with the world, but to keep from losing her, I just went along with this crazy shit for the time being. Because I definitely didn’t want to lose her even with the hassle of hiding it from her son. Her son, not her husband. This shit was ridiculous. I mean, we could do nothing outside the four walls of my place.
“Yeah…give me three of those. Uh, I want four of those. Two of those…and fuck it, give me one of those, too.”
“You talking to me, Unc?”
“Naw, talking to the lady at this gas station—hold on. How much I got left?”
I frowned. What the hell was Uncle Lee doing? Then I heard a muffled voice say, “You got twenty dollars left, sir.”
“A’ight, give me four of them Set for Lifes. Thank you.” A pause, then I heard a scratching sound.
“Unc!”
“Shit, I forgot you was on here, Nephew.”
“The fuck you doing, Unc?”
“I messed around and won five hundred dollars playing tunk last night so I’m getting me some scratch-offs.”
Let Me Hold You (McClain Brothers Book 2) Page 11