Bad and Bougie (Feeling Some Type of Way Book 2)

by Vera Roberts

  My body exploded into a frenzied panic as I rode to an orgasm, followed by Ian. I collapsed on against his chest as he patted my hair and kissed my neck. “Good girl,” he moaned, “we officially christened your car. Mine’s next.”

  “Deal,” I nod. I’m still on top of Ian and I don’t want to move. I don’t know if I can, honestly. It feels too good. “I’m totally taking you to Red Lobster.”

  “Red Lobster?” He chuckles. “Why there?”

  “Because Beyoncé,” I nod.

  Ian rubs my back and softly kisses my neck. “I don’t follow.”

  “How is that you know a part of “Formation” but you don’t know the rest of the song?”

  “What part of “Formation?” He questions.

  “The haters? Illuminati?” I softly explain.

  “Oh, that was Beyoncé?” He replies.

  “Shh…” I shake my head. “I’ll explain Lemonade later.”

  ~~~~~~

  I think my definition of muted and Ian’s are completely different.

  The last two birthdays of his, he was rather quiet about it. The first year, I didn’t know about it until after the fact, which I quickly got him a gift card to Caffeinated. This past year, he had a quiet dinner with family and I was invited as a special guest.

  This year, however, Ian decided he’s throwing himself a party. Not just any party, mind you. An extravagant masquerade party at 3121.

  The party started at seven but most guests began arriving around seven-thirty. It was a definite Who’s Who in A-listers, B-listers, and other rich and not-really famous friends of Ian. Everyone was decked out in the finest designer wear and had the obligatory mask on per his request.

  When we went shopping earlier, he picked out a Jovani backless, halter cocktail dress. I honestly didn’t know they made them in my size but they did. I was also rather surprised I was able to easily fit one without looking like a stuffed sausage.

  I paired it with my white Tom Ford heels and gifted jewelry from Ian. Looking at myself in the mirror, I have to say I was rather damn impressed with myself. I looked good. Of course, Ian looked incredible as ever in navy-blue business suit with white open collar

  When we arrived at the restaurant, the bright lights of the paparazzi damn near blinded me as I stepped out of the Maybach. Ian grabbed my hand and we posed on the red carpet for everyone to see. He wrapped his arm around my waist and kissed my temple (yes, the no-kiss-on-the-lips-before-pictures-rule even applies here) as I giggled.

  “Ready?” He asks.

  “Very,” I smile and he whisks me inside.

  This function is a little different from the numerous galas we attended over the years. The vibe at the galas is always so stuffy and pretentious. It’s clear people are there to show off and they truly don’t care about the cause they’re supporting.

  For Ian’s birthday, however, the vibe is much more laidback. Ian is definitely smiling a lot more and the choice in music – let me go ahead and pat myself on the back here for just a second – reflects a lively and more youthful tone.

  I guess when your girl plays enough trap, hip-hop, and R&B music, eventually it’ll grow on you, huh?

  ~~~~~

  “If I dance to one more song, my feet are going to remove themselves from my body and walk home.” I ease myself into the special VIP booth at 3121.

  Mariana laughs as she joins me. “I’ve been dancing since I’ve been here. I think I’m good for the next six years.”

  I kick off my heels and a server immediately comes to our table. “Did you want anything, Miss Kimbrough?”

  “Can I have a water with lime and a strawberry daiquiri?” I ask and the server nods. “Also, is there any more cheesecake? I would love a slice.”

  “We have some saved just for you!” He turns to Mariana. “Did you want anything, Ms. Harlow?”

  “Actually, I’ll have what she’s having!” Mariana nods. “That sounds great!”

  “Coming right up!” The server quickly leaves.

  “Wow,” Mariana is impressed, “I guess being Ian’s girlfriend does have its benefits.”

  “I’m still getting used to them,” I woefully admit. It’s weird to know all of your life you had to do things on your own, to realizing you could have someone do them at the drop of a hat. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to it, honestly. “This is way beyond a different lifestyle; I’m in a completely different tax bracket. Like I’m permanently in the area with the good seats, you know?”

  “Well, once you go from affording the nose-bleeds to being front row, it’s a big adjustment.” Mariana adds. “When you’re born into wealth, it’s not something you would think about. And why would you? Some cooks your food, buys your clothes, handles all of your small details, and all you have to do is breathe?”

  “For real,” I nod and our server comes by with our food and drinks. I begin to leave a tip for him, but he brushes it off.

  “It’s already covered, Miss. Mr. Ferguson took care of everyone tonight.” He smiles, then leaves.

  I’m not sure who was more impressed by that – me or Mariana. I’m still mind-blown by Ian’s generosity to his employees. I often heard some billionaires treat their employees like crap, not caring if they’ve been with the company for ten years, they’ll still get treated like the person who’s been there for ten minutes.

  Ian, however, values all of them. I bet he probably knows their names and little details about them.

  “I was wondering where you were,” Ian slides into the booth with me as Scott joins Mariana on the other side. We’re also joined by Gerald and Emma.

  “Giving my feet a break,” I chuckle, “I danced to too many songs tonight.” I turn to him. “How are you doing, Birthday Boy?”

  “I’m having a great time!” He beams and I see his dimples come through. “Everyone is enjoying themselves and I’m having a fabulous night.” He turns to his brother. “Even this one is having fun.”

  Emma leans on Gerald, who looks like he’s had a couple of drinks. His collar is loose, the mask is sitting on his forehead, and he actually looks relaxed. Hell, if this is what it takes to get Gerald into a relaxed mood, I think Ian should throw a party every day of the year. “It’s a great party, big brother. What can I say? You throw the best parties.”

  “I just love celebrating with people who I cherish and love,” he turns to me and kisses my nose, “nothing is more important than that.”

  “Or that,” Emma points to the dance floor and we all watch in amazement of Anthony and his fourth wife, Jennifer, getting down on the dance floor. I should mention Jennifer is just a tad bit older than me. And when I say tad, I mean only a few months. Anthony is almost 40 years her senior.

  I know I’m not one to talk given the age difference between me and Ian, but what in the hell does a twenty-year-old have in common with a man who’s damn near 60? Not only that, but…old balls?

  Ian raises an eyebrow before he sips his drink. “He’s having fun.”

  “Old man can still get down,” Gerald raises his glass to toast their father, “how about that?”

  “Yes,” Ian raises his glass in another toast, “how about that?”

  “So, Dominique,” Mariana begins, “I heard you were a pole dancer. Do you have your own studio yet?”

  “No, not yet. I’m working on it, though. I just have to get the final okay from a certain someone,” I turn to Ian, who shrugs.

  “I told you if you wanted it that day, to go ahead with it and I’ll take care of the details.” He insists.

  “I wanted your opinion since it’s your money.” I reply. “You know more about real estate than I do.”

  “I trust your judgment,” he nods, “and you trust mine? You did like the Bentley, yes?”

  “Wait a minute…” Mariana gives me a curious expression. I can’t tell if she truly doesn’t believe Ian just bought me a Bentley or she’s questioning why she doesn’t have one since her boyfriend is also rich. “…you have a Bent
ley?”

  “A Bentayga Mulliner to be exact,” Ian beams, “top of the line.” He smiles at me. “Only the best for my angel.”

  “And you two have only been dating a few months?” Mariana presses and we both nod. She turns to Scott. “Hear that, honey? Her boyfriend got her a Bentley after they’ve been dating for a few months!”

  “Good,” Scott nurses his whiskey, “she probably earned it.”

  “Whatever my angel wants she shall receive. Money is not an issue. I just want her to be happy and healthy regardless of what’s going on.” Ian kisses my forehead. “I’ll spend it all to please her.”

  “Well, not all,” Gerald buts in and Emma elbows him in the gut. Thank you for that, Emma. I owe you one, girl.

  “When you’re happy, you’ll realize what makes life worth living.” Ian’s staring deep into my eyes and I feel his words into my soul. “Having all the fame and fortune isn’t worth anything if I don’t have anyone to share it with.”

  I don’t want to read too much into what Ian has said. I don’t know if he’s just being polite because he’s slightly drunk or what he says has some true meaning. It doesn’t matter. This is huge for Ian because this is the first time he’s declared his love for me publicly other than his IG post today.

  He took a picture of the Bentley with the caption, ‘I hope she likes this’ and promptly tagged me in it. Ian’s not a typical PDA type of guy so that was a huge deal for him. And for us.

  Still, I can’t help but to wonder if Ian’s public declaration was the sign of many wonderful things to come.

  I can only hope.

  Nine

  It’s never a good thing to be a trending topic.

  As I woke up from my peaceful slumber, my phone was lit. Twenty text messages, ten phone calls, and my email notifications had an insane number.

  When I went on IG, I found out one of the reasons: Ian had tagged my name to a picture of the Bentley he’d purchased. Okay, I have a new fan club of followers. Wonderful.

  It was the other reason that made me shooketh: Helen’s video of me pole dancing went viral.

  V-I-R-A-L.

  Those two events coincidentally happened on the same day but this was some promotion I really wasn’t expecting.

  Now everybody and they mama knows I’m a pole dancer. Specifically, I’m Ian’s pole dancer.

  This cannot be good.

  I shot up in bed as I watched the video and how it steadily climbed to almost a million views and it wasn’t even 10 AM yet. Crap. I went on Twitter and I was officially coined #PoleBae. Really? Out of all the names, #PoleBae was the one people chose?

  And of course, the comments…

  I wish I was that flexible!

  Wow, she’s missing no meals.

  No wonder she’s with a Ferguson.

  So, is this what we’re teaching our little girls now? It’s okay to be on the pole? (This came from a man.)

  Shit, after seeing that split move she did, I would’ve bought the bitch a Bentley too! (That came from a woman.)

  I turned off my phone and turned off my life. I can’t even imagine what’s going through Ian’s mind. He must be embarrassed as shit now. Oh, being the boyfriend is all fun and games until the entire freakin’ world knows about it.

  I need to fix this and fast.

  I get out of bed and search for Ian. As long as we can talk about this face-to-face, it’ll smooth over all hard feelings. I found him upstairs in his gym, working out with his trainer, Gabe. Gabe is an older black man with one of the smoothest fades I’ve ever seen on a brotha and just as smooth personality. They were in the middle of a kickboxing session.

  Kings of Leon serenade me as I enter the gym. The music is hard, fast, and bone-shattering intense. The room smells like raw masculinity. The type of masculinity from a man that would chop down a tree, hunt dinner, and will go home to break you off. Damn, I stay horny.

  “Break,” Ian called out and both men stopped. Gabe helped Ian take off his gloves and he went to get a swig of water before he approached me through the ropes. “Angel.”

  I kissed Ian’s sweaty lips and felt a few drops of his sweat hit my face. I wipe them off and lightly suck on my fingers, causing a raised eyebrow from Ian. “Baby.”

  “What’s up?” He sat down in the ring. “Your face looks urgent.”

  Well, you’re about to dump my ass so… “I’m famous now.”

  Ian raised another eyebrow. “Are you?”

  “The video Helen took of me at Michelle’s bridal shower. It went viral.” I hand him my phone and Gabe comes over to watch the video.

  “You have spectacular moves, Domi.” Gabe complimented.

  “Isn’t she great?” Ian smiled like a proud boyfriend. Wait. He’s happy?

  “You’re not trippin’ nuts about this?” I prod. “Most guys would be upset about this.”

  “I already watched the video, angel.” Ian looks up at me. “A few times, actually.”

  The way Ian said it implied he also did something as he watched the videos. I imagined him and every other man across the globe busted their nuts at the same time. I’m not sure how I feel about that. “So, this means you’re okay?”

  “You keep asking that question as if you want me to have an issue with it,” Ian begins, “I’m not sure if this is your polite way of telling me GTFO.”

  I think I’m more shocked that Ian knows what GTFO stood for than what he said. “I just want to make sure you’re okay with all of this. That’s all. I’m not trying to get rid of you, baby.” And I damn sure ain’t trying to give back that Bentley.

  Ian kisses me again. “Good. Start.” He calls to Gabe, who stands by the handle bars and waits for Ian. Ian walks over and jumps on the bars, lifting himself up to a series of push-ups. I could watch my man work out all damn day. “We’re almost finished here, angel. I’ll come get you in a short while so we can have breakfast.”

  “Okay, have fun.” I walk out of the gym and back downstairs. I finally decided to answer some texts from various friends and family about it. I learned from Ian to keep my answers succinct and not to give too much away. I never knew exactly who was going to go to the press.

  My voicemails were the same thing. I left voicemails to those I couldn’t reach and confirmed it was me on the video and that I was opening my dance studio soon. Then I received two interesting voicemails.

  One voicemail was from rapper Dolce Gabbana. The best way to describe him is if Logic and Chance the Rapper got together and had a kid and Tyler, the Creator and Kanye West got together and had a kid, and then those two kids hooked up, that would be Dolce. Totally out of this world but crazy talented.

  “Yo, I hope this is the right number. Anyway, I’m Dolce Gabbana. I got your number from my brother-in-law, Nicky. I want to see if you’re able to talk about your video. Girl, you got some moves and I would like to see what your business rates are for a possible video shoot. You can reach me back at this number. This is my direct line. Peace.”

  OMFG. Dolce Gabbana reached out to me! Maybe this viral thing isn’t so bad after all.

  I was already on Cloud 9 when I checked the last voicemail and I really shouldn’t have. It was from my father, Sam.

  “You need to give me a call right away. This is complete bullshit, Sister. Candy and I didn’t raise you to be some goddamn pole dancer! Do you know how I found out? My friends told me about your video. You and your faggot brother have brought shame to my family! I want that video taken down now! And lose some weight! You’re too big to be on a pole anyway!”

  There were so many things wrong with what my father said. One, Candy damn sure didn’t raise me so he can get that shit out of his head. Two, he still hasn’t accepted Adrienne (not that he ever will). Three, he left me to find my way which why he stopped supporting me my senior year of college.

  Had he not done that, maybe I wouldn’t have been on the pole?

  I let my father’s words affect me more than they should’ve. Ian was going
to finish his workout and make me breakfast but suddenly I didn’t feel hungry anymore. I retreated to my closet and stood in front of the full-length mirror. I took off my clothes and just stood in my bra and panties.

  I have a small tummy. I have thick thighs. I have full breasts. I have a big ass. I have cellulite. My arms and legs are toned because of various exercises. I work out numerous times a week, including yoga and a bit of weight training. I’m just naturally bigger.

  I never had any body image issues growing up. I accepted my size and was happy with it. It was always other people who had an issue with it, with Sam being the most vocal. Even when I went clubbin’ with Helen and Michelle, I was still bigger than them even though I was fit.

  Now, Sam and a few online strangers made me ashamed of my body.

  I’m sure there were comments that couldn’t believe Ian was with me and honestly, sometimes I still can’t. But he never shamed me. Even when I wanted French fries, Ian humored me. He never told me to lose weight or to slim down.

  He accepted me as is.

  I thought about my pole dancing class. Are women really going to go to it and take advice from Big Girl? Would they be too distracted by my size to focus on the lesson? What if this is an absolute fail?

  I put on an oversized shirt and crawl back into bed. I don’t know what I’m going to do.

  ~~~~~

  “Angel…”

  Ian’s lips and hands wake me from my slumber. I must’ve been so emotional I went back to sleep. I feel him pressed against me and he wrapped his arms around me. I feel safe and all is right with the world now. “Baby…”

  “Is everything okay? I went to check on you after the workout and you were passed out asleep. I guess this morning was a bit emotional for you.”

  You got that right. “Just overwhelmed, that’s all.”

  “In a few days, another scandal will happen and everyone will forget about this. You just have to weather the storm.” He assures me. “Did you want to talk about it?”

  I turned around to face him. Gosh, his beauty could make a grown man cry. Yes, I said that right. A grown-ass man. “It’s not just the video. My dad is officially ashamed of me. He berated me over the voicemail about it.”