Power Couple

by Allison Hobbs

  I was super excited about the trip. By day, Michelangelo and I would pose for pictures on a private beach, and I’d be able to feast my eyes on his magnificent physique for hours at a time. But our evenings would be even steamier. Staying at the same hotel, we’d have complete freedom to slip in and out of each other’s hotel suite and no one would be the wiser. I got goosebumps imagining his large hands awakening my skin—his mouth and skillful tongue teasing me to near madness.

  My personal involvement with Michelangelo made me feel less agitated about Maverick’s sexual shenanigans. For once, I wasn’t the least bit concerned about what he was up to. Had I known that having a sidepiece could be so emotionally healing—so soothing to the soul—I would have gotten one a long time ago. I suppose it took the right person to make me aware that life didn’t have to revolve around my husband.

  Remarkably, Josh’s anger over my breach of contract subsided and he became somewhat friendly. I was initially baffled by his pleasantness, but his unexpected civility made perfect sense after Ellie informed me that she learned from Josh’s assistant that the network executives had seen the dailies of my show. They loved my sassy one-liners and the way I had interacted with the contestants so much, they were eager to pick up Cookin’ with Cori for a third season.

  With a stable marriage, a successful career, and a sizzling new love affair, my life was fabulous! My only complaint was the relentless phone calls from Sophia. What a pest! While in Hawaii, I’d be able to get some well-deserved respite from her constant bitching and lamenting. In case of emergency, I’d advise her to contact Maverick during my absence. Maybe she’d shut the fuck up if he stopped by her place and tightened up that pussy for her.

  • • •

  I engaged the incline feature of my treadmill and powered uphill as intense workout music blasted from my headset. In beast mode, I huffed and puffed, sweating like crazy as I got in some last-minute cardio along with a little thigh and butt-toning before my trip to Hawaii with Michelangelo.

  The beach shoot was all about displaying my food and showing off Michelangelo’s abs. I planned to wear a cover-up in the photos, so I wasn’t worried about my body looking perfect in a swimsuit; I simply wanted to be as toned as possible when my boo stripped off my clothes.

  I rarely pushed myself when working out, but today I was going to extremes, alternating between running and steep-hill climbing. In a zone, all I could think about was heating up the sheets in Hawaii.

  In the midst of fantasizing about sex on the beach, Maverick suddenly came hurtling through the door of our home gym. He was holding up his phone, waving it, and yelling something that I couldn’t hear with loud music pumping in my ears.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, yanking off my headset.

  “What is this shit?” Phone in hand, his arm was outstretched as he stomped toward me.

  Confused as to why Maverick was acting the damn fool and interrupting my workout, I turned off the treadmill. He thrust the phone in my hand and when I gazed at the screen, my vision blurred. In freeze-frame mode was an image of Michelangelo and me, kissing passionately. I was so totally unprepared to see photographic proof of my indiscretion that my legs went wobbly. I had to hold on to the handle bars in order to remain steady on my feet.

  “Hit ‘Play,’” Maverick demanded with a look of rage in his eyes.

  Having no desire whatsoever to witness the video, I blinked rapidly as if I had been slapped across the face. I was in such a panic, I was close to jumping off the treadmill and haul-assing out of the workout room. But where would I hide? Mechanically, I obeyed my husband’s command and tapped the screen. In a state of shock, I stood on the treadmill and watched a video recording of Michelangelo and me outside the warehouse on the night of the finale. I stared at the footage with my eyes wide and my mouth wide open. We were fucking like two animals in heat, and it wasn’t easy to stand there and observe myself behaving like a savage. Suddenly parched, I grabbed my water bottle from the side compartment of the treadmill and took a desperate gulp. Dazed, I needed to lie down, and so I got off the treadmill and handed Maverick his phone. With my mind in a fog, I thought my feet were heading for the doorway, but having lost all sense of direction, I found myself pacing in a circle.

  “What are you doing? Stop walking in circles like a freakin’ lunatic,” Maverick bellowed. He gave me a look of such intense hatred, I stopped moving and physically recoiled.

  “How’d you get this?” I asked in a monotone.

  “What the hell does it matter how I got it? What the hell possessed you to smash dude from your show—in public—like a dirty ho?”

  Being called a “dirty ho” made me flinch, but being curious about who had taken the video and sent it to my husband’s phone, my mind wandered. Then it hit me—Josh! There’d probably been hidden security cameras outside the warehouse and that devious queen had gotten hold of the perfect weapon to destroy me. No wonder he’d been acting so sickeningly sweet lately. He knew he was going to stab me in the back the entire time he’d been grinning in my face.

  “How am I supposed to show my face around town with that filthy sex tape of my wife breaking the Internet?” Maverick looked down at the footage and then angrily hurled his phone, smashing it against the wall. Then, as if in anguish, he held his head with both hands and hollered. It was a long and loud, plaintive wail.

  Seeing Maverick becoming unglued influenced me to pull myself together. “Get a grip, Mav. We have a powerful PR machine. They’ll do damage control.”

  “Nobody can fix this. It’s over; we’re both done. I used to kill myself on the football field to ensure we had a good life. And after football, I continued to grind. Those endorsements that help us maintain our lifestyle didn’t simply land in my lap; I busted my butt to get them. And now your dumb ass has destroyed everything I’ve worked so hard for.”

  “You’re upset, honey. I understand, but we aren’t a hundred percent certain that the video has been posted online,” I said in a rational tone.

  “Someone sent it to me, so I assume it’s everywhere.” He yelled out every word and punctuated his tirade by kicking the treadmill.

  “Who sent it?” I asked quietly, hoping my calmness would encourage him to take it down a few notches.

  “I don’t know; the sender was private.” He was still livid, speaking through clenched teeth, but at least he’d stopped yelling.

  I went into action and used my phone to check gossip blogs, social media sites, and entertainment news. I couldn’t find the video or any mention of it, thank God!

  “It’s not online, Mav. But I have a good idea who’s behind this.”

  “Who?”

  “Josh. He’s using the tape to blackmail me into giving in to his demands.”

  “Josh is gay; why would he demand sex from you?”

  “It’s not about sex. It’s about the show.”

  Maverick stared at me inquiringly. “Why would Josh put something out there that could destroy the show?”

  “We’ve been having creative differences, and I think he wants to replace me with Azaria Fierro.”

  No longer composed, Maverick punched the wall. “Do you realize that if this shit gets out, I could lose my endorsement deals as well as my position at the network? What the hell were you thinking, fucking around with that kid?”

  “He’s not a kid. Michelangelo is a grown man.”

  Maverick grimaced. “I hate that stupid-ass, pretentious-sounding name. Ugh. Michelangelo.” He spat out the name as if it were a violation to his very soul. “How much is that motherfucker worth, Cori?” Maverick looked upward as if mentally calculating. “Let’s see…he won the competition, so at least he has a few bucks in his pocket,” he said sarcastically. “You got yourself a hundred-thousand-dollar man. Wow. That’s a hell of a downgrade, Cori. I hope the dick was worth it.”

  I took a deep breath and
closed my eyes. And I kept them closed as if the way out of this nightmare was written on the insides of my lids.

  “I don’t get it. Don’t you get all the dick you need from me?”

  I opened my eyes. “Maybe I need more than a hard dick, Maverick.”

  He shot me a look of disgust. “You could have fooled me. The way you came out of your pants and let them drag in the dirt, it looked to me like you were starving for some dick.”

  “With all your whoring around, you can’t talk,” I clapped back.

  “The big difference is that I’m discreet. And I’ve always been honest with you. You’re always reminding me about discretion and then you turn around and get with your boy toy out in the open. Letting him raw dog you up against a rundown building—like two vagrants who can’t afford a hotel room.”

  “I’m sorry, Mav. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Shut up with that lame excuse. You’re well aware of the morality clause in my contract. Our brand—Mavcor—is a symbol of wholesomeness and your slutty conduct reflects on me, as well as you. This is so fucked up,” he lamented, rubbing his forehead circularly.

  “You don’t understand how lonely I get being married to you.”

  “How the hell are you lonely? I take a boys’ vacation to Brazil once a year, and I travel sometimes for work, but other than that, I come home to your ungrateful ass every single night.”

  I laughed bitterly. “You come home, all right. And you bring sluts and whores home with you and fuck them in our bed, and expect me to accept the disrespect with a smile.”

  “We agreed on an open marriage a long time ago, so don’t start complaining about it now.”

  “I never agreed to an open marriage. I only agreed to your having a sexual encounter once a year on your birthday. You took it upon yourself to take it further with the whores in Brazil. I didn’t like it, but since you were doing your dirt outside the country, I dealt with it. But your obsession with prostitutes has gotten out of hand, leaving me feeling inadequate and lonely. Everyone envies us, but we both know there’s nothing to envy about our bogus marriage.”

  “Don’t give me that sob story. If you had been honest with me, you could have been with your amateur cook on the up and up, but you made the decision to be a deceitful bitch. If your sex tape gets out, and I’m sure it will, I’m not going down with you. I’m distancing myself from you and your lewd behavior as of right the fuck now.”

  “Mav! What are you saying?”

  “You heard me. I’m packing my shit and leaving. My spokes-person will be making a statement later today about our imminent divorce.”

  “You can’t divorce me. What about our baby?”

  “You mean my baby. I knocked up the hooker, so it’s my child, and not yours. I’ll raise my son on my own.”

  The tale I’d woven about the ripped condom and Sophia getting pregnant by Maverick had come back to haunt me. “That baby belongs to both of us, Mav. Sophia didn’t get pregnant by you.”

  “What?”

  “You wouldn’t go along with the surrogate birth, so I tricked you into believing the condom broke the night you were with Sophia. Sophia’s not a prostitute; she’s our surrogate, and she’s carrying our child. I set it all up, and convinced her to pretend to be a whore. I’m sorry for tricking you, but you gave me no choice. I was desperate to have a child and you wouldn’t cooperate.”

  “You’re a piece of work, Cori. I never realized I was married to such a lying, conniving bitch.”

  I started to speak, but couldn’t think of anything to say in my defense. I gazed at him, hoping to see a glimmer of compassion in his eyes. But his eyes were filled with such loathing, I quickly glanced away.

  “That sex tape speaks volumes about your character. No court of law would give custody of an innocent child to an indecent piece of scum like you. Thanks for hoodwinking me into fatherhood,” he said, gloating. “But I’m going to be a great father. Being a hands-on single dad will be the key to winning back public approval. I can rebuild my brand and make it even bigger than it already is when I start pushing baby products like disposable diapers and baby food. Maybe I’ll write a book about the joys of single fatherhood.” He gave a burst of evil laughter. “Mo’ money, mo’ money,” he taunted.

  Maverick had been the ultimate dog, fucking anything that moved. I’d only cheated with one person, and yet my entire world was collapsing.

  The unfairness of the situation pushed me to the edge. “I won’t let you take my child,” I screamed as loud as I could. “I’ll fight you for my son. And I’ll fight dirty if I have to. I’ll tell the world about your whores and how you like to bite them. Sophia hates you, and she’ll testify on my behalf. She’ll reveal that you bit up her thighs, leaving deep teeth marks, like a rabid dog.”

  He waved me off, unaffected by my threats. “Do what you gotta do, baby. It’ll be your word against mine…and after your sex tape goes viral, your word won’t be worth shit.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Maverick sauntered out of the workout room and I was left with an awful feeling of doom. Not knowing what to do or whom to call, I gave a strangled, hopeless cry. My husband and I were represented by the same PR firm, and with him being the bigger star and the person responsible for paying their exorbitant fee, it was pointless for me to turn to our PR team for support.

  That stupid prenup I’d signed when I was young and dumb would prevent me from getting half his money or any spousal support. I wouldn’t get child support either if he won custody of our child. Oh, Lord…my life sucked!

  But I couldn’t give up. Maybe I could convince Josh not to go public with the video. I’d offer to bow out gracefully from the show if that’s what he wanted. My finger was poised to press Josh’s number when my phone suddenly rang.

  I noticed that the call was from a private number, and I swallowed in fear. Josh was about to make his demands, but I found it weird that he would bother to block his number. With a bad feeling swelling in the pit of my stomach, I swiped the screen, and accepted the call.

  “Hello?” My voice came out in a tiny, frightened tone.

  “Hi, Cori,” said a voice that sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t accurately identify.

  “Who is this?”

  “You forgot me, already? Aw, my feelings are hurt.”

  Trying to make out the voice, I wrinkled my brow. “Who the fuck is this?” I shouted insistently.

  “No reason to get ghetto on me. I thought you were too polished and dignified to go there. Oops, that’s right, there’s nothing dignified about you. You get down and dirty, with your pants down and your leg hitched up, fucking in public, for all eyes to see. Good thing I had my phone camera handy. Your adoring fans need to know about your fraudulent, fake-ass self.”

  Suddenly, I became aware of who was behind the attempt to destroy my image and my good name…and it wasn’t Josh. “What do you want from me, you malicious little viper,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “Temper, temper,” Ralphie said mockingly.

  “How dare you try to blackmail me after all I did for you and your family—”

  “You didn’t do anything out of the kindness of your heart. You bought my mom some dentures and tried to give her a makeover because you didn’t want to be embarrassed by her. You considered her a hood rat and a disgrace to the race. But you fucked up when you played me. My food was perfect and you and those judges conspired together and got me kicked off the show.”

  “That’s not true, Ralphie. I didn’t have anything to do with your elimination.”

  “I heard the words ‘goodbye, Ralphie,’ come straight out of your mouth.”

  “I don’t pick the winners—”

  “That’s a lie,” he hissed, cutting me off. “I saw Preacher Yancy’s name printed on the card you left behind in your dressing room the night of the finale, but you didn
’t announce it that way. You gave the win to your boyfriend. Obviously, your show isn’t about the best cook. It’s about who’s laying the best pipe in you.”

  “Michelangelo is not my boyfriend,” I said, but didn’t sound convincing.

  “You could have fooled me. Why did I catch the two of you about to smash on the couch several weeks before the finale? I was the only cook who could beat Michelangelo, and I bet you planned to get rid of me way back then.”

  “What happened between Michelangelo and me was wrong…it was a mistake. But there was no conspiracy against you, Ralphie. I swear.”

  “Why don’t we let the public be the judge of that after they see the tape? I’m not going to release it until after the finale airs. Then, while Michelangelo is making his rounds and doing TV appearances, I’ll be doing the same thing—going on talk shows and discussing what I filmed.”

  Never in a million years would I have believed that such a seemingly sweet and harmless soul like Ralphie would have the power to blow up my life. His capacity for vengeance was chilling. But I couldn’t let a little nobody punk like him publicly humiliate me. I was shrewder than he was. I could outthink him. Despite how upset and shaken I was, I had to pull myself together and outmaneuver that lowlife, orphaned, motherfucking black-acting, white-ass, street urchin.

  “Ralphie,” I said in the soothing tone of a negotiator speaking to a terrorist in the midst of a hostage situation. “Listen, I can help you with your career.”

  “What career? Oh, do you mean you can help me get a promotion from the stockroom at Target to a cashier’s position? No, thanks, I don’t enjoy dealing with the public.”

  “I’m serious, Ralphie. I know lots of influential people and I can help get you started in the culinary field. I have ways to get you an apprenticeship with some of the most prestigious chefs in the industry. In fact, I’m tight with the owner of one of the top soul food restaurants in Harlem. A place called Bay Leaf that I used to own. I could get you a job as a sous chef. You don’t have to worry about housing; I’ll set you up in a nice apartment near the restaurant.”