by Nikki Rashan
I’d told Vee from the get-go I don’t mind a little lesbo action here and there, but I love . . . Wait, let me rephrase that. I needs me a good, solid-testosterone, sweat-pouring, make-it-hurt dick down and, no, not that fake plastic piece of crap strap-on. Vee, like all studs, thought she could change my mind and my heart, and worst of all Mrs. Smuckers. You know what they say, “It has to be good.” Yes, my punani is good, as I’d been told so on numerous occasions, but there would be no changing her mind; she definitely appreciated the D.
Sometimes the sex with Vee was so insatiable. She’d be staring at herself in our bedroom mirror doing the Dougie behind me, making kissy faces. I was pretty sure I could have propped up a couple of pillows and as long as she could slide in and out without losing momentum, the change would have gone unnoticed. I blame my Facebook slip-up on my ass being in heat. I was not of sound mind or sound pussy, and now I needed to find myself a new mark or at least a temporary live-in fuck buddy.
I had one number saved in my phone under DNA: do not answer. City Boi or C.B. was one of the grimiest industry niggas in the area. There were all kinds of horror stories about girls who would go in business with him and wind up strung out, missing, or pregnant by some anonymous dude. But, truth was he could make things happen if he wanted to. I’d tried to work with him once on a video shoot when a bunch of rappers were in town.
These dudes were as legit as they came. I’d never seen so many bottles of champagne and diamond chains, but to be the legitimate moneymakers they were you’d think they’d never heard of a bank. Not one of them was without a book bag, fanny pack, or some kind of duffle bag full of money. C.B. had me going for a minute until he hit all the girls with this “hang around after hours and entertain the squad ‘Ho Chi Minh Ho’ style.” That’s when I got pissed off and carried my ass. I was not about that life.
My mistake back then was running with too many females who were known for that type of foolishness. I didn’t separate from myself from the pack and I was mistaken for one of the sheep.
“Yo, this City, who this?” His raspy voice gave me instant chills of both foreboding and expectation.
“Um, hey, you. Thi . . . this is Tia.” I waited.
“Who the hell is Tia?”
“You know Tia . . . Tia. From out Oakmont Tia. I used to chill with your girl Rica and, uh, Shonique.”
Rica used to be my best friend. She was one of the only girls I knew of who actually made it from her connection with C.B. She got picked up to do a couple of King and XXL magazines, moved to Atlanta, and then she got brand new, erasing all of us and Virginia from her vocabulary all together.
“Oh yeah, li’l mixed breed with the pretty eyes. Long time no hear. I’ma be up in Venue 112 tonight, got a couple of tables, we popping bottles. You should come through.”
That was all the work I needed to do. Once he saw me the rest would take care of itself. Everyone always said with my features that I should or could model. It didn’t make any sense to just keep letting this face and this body go to waste. I was twenty-four with no kids, no real family ties, and I didn’t do the college thing for real because I hated school. The only reason I’d tried to go was to get a refund check, but you can’t do a damn deferment or forbearance on those loans forever so school was out. This was my first and last chance to make a good impression on this dude to let him know that I meant business this time.
It didn’t take me long to get dressed. Despite the temperature only being in the low fifties I still wore as little clothing as possible. I put on a pair of super-tight leggings I’d gotten from Olive Ole and a long-sleeve see-through black Dolce Vita pheasant-print shirt that tied up in the front. Spinning around several times, I made sure no tags or panty lines were showing through my tights. Shoni always said that as long as your top spoke high fashion and your shoes were on point you could always get away with a decent pair of jeans or tights if the pockets or the label weren’t showing. My hair always hung in black wavy curls down my back because I was too lazy to spend the four hours it took to straighten it out or style it any other way. I sprayed some Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue behind my ears and in my hair, and I was ready to go.
The club was packed, just as I’d expected, and the line to get in was around the building. I called C.B. to let him know I was outside. A couple of security guys came to the front door and let me in, no ID check, no cover charge, nothing. I liked this shit already.
“Damn you look better than I remember.” He stood up and gave me a tight hug. “Smell good, too.”
I returned his embrace and tried my best not to look nervous or uncomfortable. His entourage was small tonight, just another guy I didn’t recognize and his girlfriend, I guessed. City was a short, muscular, light-skinned dude with a full beard and his edge up was always razor sharp, like his barber used a ruler to make the lines. He reminded me of one of the husbands from The Real Housewives of Atlanta. I couldn’t remember the guy’s name. Vee let the cable get cut off before I could ever really get into the show. He was stupid sexy; yes, he could definitely get the goodies.
“You smell damn good yourself, sir.”
I gave him a shy smile and took the seat next to his. I was immediately happy I’d worn leggings instead of a skirt, as his hand instantly slid up in between my legs.
“So you want me to make you a star, love?”
I thought about Vee and our run-down house, the fact that I didn’t have a job or even a damn checking account. I lived off of her and my first cousin, who dropped me some money every now and again. Closing my eyes as if the darkness would make the shame of my situation go away, I silently nodded my head yes to his question.
“Good!” City replied eagerly. “First we celebrate because a star you already are; I can look at you and tell. Later we’ll go to my place and relax.”
I had a momentary break as he ordered two more bottles of champagne. When the server brought him his change he handed me a one hundred dollar bill out of it. My heart pounded in excitement and I quickly squirreled the money away into my clutch next to my phone before he changed his mind.
“So, Tia, you see all these men up in here looking at you?”
Glancing around I noted a few stank stares from some hoodish-looking girls nearby, and some men sitting at a table next to us were looking me up and down like wolves. The attention made me uncomfortable and I quickly averted my eyes. People often stared or looked at me but men did that naturally; it was in their nature.
“I’ve never really paid much attention to men.” I took a sip of my champagne to cover up my obvious unease at the change in topic.
He didn’t notice, and continued without missing a beat. “Those are what I call money glances. Imagine if we put you on a magazine or in a video. They would all willingly pay for the same glances they’re sneaking at you right now for free, love.”
He put his arm around my shoulder as we laughed and toasted to “money glances.” Two bottles later I was feeling extra nice, and I didn’t know how it came up or when I’d even told him that I liked women or was bisexual or any of that shit, but I wish I never had.
“So you be out there pulling chicks? Really? Have you ever been with a man? How long ago was it? You strap up or you get strapped? Could you pull a chick right now?”
He had a barrage of questions. Before I could answer one he hit me with another one. He pulled out a band of fifty dollar bills. “This is two thousand. I’m a gambling man. I bet you can’t get a girl to come chill with us at the house later.”
His homeboy chuckled and I looked at him like he’d grown a second and a third head. His emphasis on the word “chill” made it all too clear he wasn’t trying to sip Moscato and watch TV. Now, I wasn’t saying that my ass was the player type or conceited or anything like that, but hell, all women in my mind were inherently lesbian. The most I’d ever had to do was give a woman a few drinks, smile real sly while saying that I like women, and they were usually nothing but spaghetti girls: straight until you ge
t them wet. I smirked. Something was suspect about his little bet and I wanted to know exactly what it was.
“You gonna give me two thousand dollars for something you can have any given day of the week? What’s the catch, C?”
“Any given day of the week it hasn’t been with you, and the catch is I get to pick the girl. And she just walked through the door.”
Following his gaze my mouth dropped open slightly, and it was as if a million butterflies had been released in my chest all at once. Her back was turned to us, but I’d have known Shoni anywhere in this life or the next one over. We hadn’t spoken in over a year, not after I fell in love with her only to find out she’d been married the entire time. Her reasoning was that it was only for the money but that didn’t matter to me. I was devastated nonetheless.
She stood at the bar now, the explicit center of all the money glances. Even now I admired the full thickness of her hips. There was something about that woman’s body that made her look exactly like that—a woman. Gold pumps laced up around her ankles; a deep brown and gold dress that belted loosely around the waist further accenting her big old booty. She turned to walk toward the bar and my breath caught. I almost fainted, fell out my chair, and pointed like the village idiot mouth hanging open and all. No, not because she was gorgeous; she was beyond that. Her skin was a golden brown hue; her high cheekbones were a bright rosy pink from the cold air outside. Even from this distance I could see the deep dimples in them as she politely excused herself past people, smiling at the quick compliments the men were throwing her way as she passed. There was no way I could go through with this.
I just began shaking my head back and forth. “Anyone but her.”
“Ha, she thiiiiiiick. Gorgeous isn’t she? Makes you nervous just looking at her. Well, we don’t have a bet then.”
He started to tuck the money back in his pocket and mentally I cursed myself out. $2,000 could go a long way. I could get a place to stay for a few days, pay my cell phone bill up for a couple of months. Not have to ask for anyone’s help. I needed that money. Me and my damn luck. Figure the odds, out of all the places to go and all the people in the world to choose from. That definitely was not Shoni. This fool would just so happen to casually scan a crowd and pick out the same damn cop who only hours ago had just arrested my girlfriend.
Chapter 10
All’s Well If Al Is Well
The few close friends I had in my life were either married or socially awkward. Besides, I already knew how they were about a last minute girls’ night out. Somebody wouldn’t be able to find a babysitter, somebody’s boo wouldn’t like it, and somebody’s money wouldn’t be right. The social no-goers were always like “Club? Why do you wanna go to a boring-ass club? Let’s stay in the house and order takeout.” Or they’d say, “Let’s go out to eat.” Lord knows I didn’t need anything else to eat right now. But, it happened every single time without fail. This night was going to be me all by myself, and I was okay with that. Besides, Davin and I had stopped having sex long before he was murdered and now that I knew why we’d stopped, it was time for me to find myself an extracurricular plaything.
I needed to get out the house and away from jail and the other cops and laws. Most people didn’t recognize me out of my uniform anyway, especially with the weight I’d put back on. Add that to the fact that I’d worn makeup and let my natural shoulder-length twists hang loose, the odds of anyone recognizing me were slim to none. I slid the valet ticket into my back pocket and reminded myself to get cash to tip the guy on my way out. Davin was probably rolling over in his grave at the sight of me driving his car, let alone clubbing in it. That car was one of the few things I had. I made sure I drove it everywhere completely out of spite.
“So, um, are you allowed to come and party with us common folk?” someone said from behind me.
I was standing facing the bar when a small body pressed up against my back, sliding a champagne flute onto the bar in front of me.
“My friend wants you to come have drinks with us, and I owe you a thank-you as well.”
I looked down at the glass, wondering who exactly was thanking me. Contemplating the situation I leaned my head to the side, casually sliding a test strip from the department’s lab from my bracelet and dipping it into the glass without anyone seeing. Yeah, being a cop makes you stupid paranoid about stuff like roofies. Five, four, three . . . I counted silently, and without turning around I addressed my visitor over my shoulder. “Hmm, free champagne and invitations. Might this be my lucky night?”
The strip didn’t change color indicating any GHB, Rohypnol, or ketamine; it was clean. I lifted it to my lips and took a sip, turning to face whoever she was. I immediately choked and sputtered on the bittersweet bubbles as they slid down my throat.
“T . . . Tia? Right?” I stammered at her in complete shock.
“Yes, um, Offi—”
“Alicia, just call me Alicia. I guess you’re okay? I’m, um, sorry about your friend.”
“Oh, it’s fine. That situation was over with anyway. Besides I have new friends and they’d love to meet you. I’m modeling now. This is kind of a little celebration thing.”
She smiled and waved toward a table in the VIP section, I bit my lower lip at the light-complected bit of goodness who waved and smiled back. All I needed was for him to say he could pick up or bench press 190 to 200 and we’d be best friends.
“Okay, Tia, but just don’t say anything about what I do for a living and we are fine.”
She winked a silent promise and I winked back before following her past the “no-fly zone.” That’s where all the hating-ass chicks who ain’t fly enough to get in stood and hated on everybody else in the VIP area.
This was against all of the precinct’s rules. I should have turned and left as soon as she recognized me, but to hell with caution. I needed an adventure. I needed to live again. Life was so boring, especially after only dealing with Davin and all his stuffy friends and our married friends. Martinis at Ruby Tuesday was definitely not my idea of getting out of the house or living. After his death, this was the closest I’d been to human interaction outside of the station.
At the table Tia introduced me to City Boi, aka my future “Thunder Buddy.” There was another guy who reminded me of the version of Shaggy from Scooby-Doo; his name was Nova and his girlfriend was Portia. I took a seat in between Tia and City Boi and finished my glass of champagne. My phone buzzed in my back pocket and I quickly ignored a text from Lo asking if I was okay or needed anything. What I needed was sitting right here beside me smelling like Yves Saint Laurent For Him and looking even better.
“Sweetie? Um, City Sir? I’m not calling a grown man anything like that. What did your mother name you?” I smiled politely but I was dead-ass serious. I would not be yelling out, “Ooh, Ci . . .” I couldn’t even think it without smiling to myself.
“I don’t usually do this. But since you asked so seductively, you can call me Chason. Kind of like, don’t be chasing me after I finish tasting you.” He winked.
The only reason I didn’t put him on blast for that cornball line was because he was fine as hell. I flashed him a pretty smile and replied, “I asked like I was inquiring, and I don’t chase, nor do I give out tastes. This is a meal fit for a king, not boys.” I winked back and took a sip of my champagne. The table broke out into laughter.
“Oh. I think I just fell in love and lust!”
We exchanged small talk. Chason owned a successful model management company. He’d placed girls in several major magazines and videos. I honestly couldn’t care less. I listened just to be polite but my mind was doing all sorts of impolite things to this man’s body. Tia seemed to be a ball of fidgety nervous energy beside me, double-dutching in and out of our conversation.
It wasn’t until I leaned back to laugh at something Mr. Sexy Everything said that I noticed her sitting a little too close to me. The warmth from her breath brushed against my ear. It was when I noticed that I could damn near count
each of her lashes if I wanted to that I needed to address the personal space issue.
“Um, Tia? You okay, sweetie?” I asked her peculiarly.
“Mmmm hmmm. Are you okay?” Her reply implied so much more as she swooped her eyes seductively up and down my body from head to toe.
Shockwaves swept over me. It was like yin and yang. Chason’s thick, warm, masculine hand encircled the back of my neck and he gently massaged my shoulders as Tia’s long, slender, warm fingers . . . .
Oh the hell no, she was not. Had I been in uniform I’d have twisted her wrist and taken her to the ground without a second thought. I inhaled sharply to cover my mental gasp of shock at the fact that this woman’s hand was slowly gliding somewhere it definitely did not need to be going.
“Let’s excuse ourselves to the ladies’ room right quick.” My tone was sharp as I cut my eyes at her, daring her to tell me no.
I grabbed her by the hand I’d just considered breaking before she could respond and marched toward the restroom. The line was ridiculous, as it always was, with women lined up chatting, doing the potty dance; and some were too drunk to even stand on their own. A male came out of the men’s room and I jumped in, pulling Tia with me.
“Girl, are you that drunk? I know I didn’t imagine—”
“Ugh. You didn’t imagine it. I’m sorry; please don’t get mad. City bet me two grand that I couldn’t get a girl back to his place for a threesome. I said okay; he picked you randomly out of the crowd. I really need the money. I’m leaving Vee because we did something insane and stupid, like took these har—” Someone banged loudly on the door.
“Occupied,” we both shouted in unison.
We were both standing in a pissy men’s room, trying to diffuse a situation that actually felt like the most fun I’d had in forever. The giggling started out of nowhere and I couldn’t help it. The entire situation was hilarious when I thought about it. Tia just stared at me like I was crazy.