Cameron 3

by Jade Jones

  Cameron 3

  Jade Jones

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  This novel is a work of fiction. Any reference to real people, events, establishments, or locales is intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Other names, characters, and incidents occurring in the work are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, as are those fictionalized events and events that involve real persons. Any character that happens to share the name of a person who is any acquaintance of the author, past or present, is purely coincidental and is in no way intended to be an actual account involving that person.

  Copyright © 2012

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portion thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Acknowledgments

  First, I would like to thank the Lord for blessing me with the gift of creativity and also helping me to perfect it. Of course, I can’t forget about my own group, Jade Jones Fan Group. Thank you so much for all the love and support. To all my readers and supporters, thank you. I’d like to give a special shout out to Katherine Dailey, Torika Harrison, Tasha Renee, Reggie Manning, Courtney Lawson, Untraka Pradia, Andrea Wagner-Harris, Christana Kelsey, Geraldine Grady,Taylor AC, Tyesha Banks, Jacole Laryea, Shontavia Bladen, Shawna Brim, Netta Burks Huckaby, Renee Wyckoff, Aleisha Braide Bryant, Crystal Alexis, Brandy Palmer-Smith, MsMeka, Chastity Thomas, Jewel Horace, and last but not least Miss Chyna Dahl.

  1

  Sitting on top of the closed toilet seat lid in her master bathroom, Cameron stared at the positive pregnancy test that she had taken less than five minutes ago. Her vision blurred as tears slowly formed in her almond shaped eyes.

  Sighing dejectedly, Cameron ran her fingers through her natural brown shoulder length hair and stared at the dark blue line indicating positive. It seemed as if her entire world was crashing down around her.

  Damn.

  Suddenly, Cameron’s cell phone began vibrating on the bathroom counter sink. The annoying buzzing sound interrupted her thoughts and contemplation about the dreaded future. She blew out air at the sight of the caller ID, and started not to even answer. After all, she didn’t even know what to say.

  Against Cameron’s better judgment, she answered on the fifth ring. “Hello?” she breathed into the mouthpiece.

  “Look, you ain’t gotta talk, Cameron” Marcus said. “Just listen…I know you gotta man and everything. I dig that you’re faithful and shit but I can’t get you out of my head. I’m really feelin’ you, Cameron” he admitted. “And when that nigga fuck up, I’ma be right here waitin’ on you to hopefully take a chance with me…”

  Tears formed in Cameron’s eyes at the mere mention of Jude. Five years felt like an eternity. Why is all this shit happening to me?

  Suddenly, and without warning, Cameron’s cell phone slipped from her trembling fingers and landed on the plush cream contour rug. Tears spilled over her lower lids and landed on her bare thighs. She could hear Marcus calling out to her in the distance, but she didn’t think twice about retrieving the phone.

  After all, what Cameron was feeling right now had nothing to do with him. As a matter of fact, it had nothing to do with Jude.

  It was about her.

  Slowly standing to her feet, Cameron gradually made my way over towards the bathroom’s vanity. Once she reached the mirror, she looked over her reflection. Strangely, it felt like Cameron didn’t even recognize the woman staring back at her.

  Who is this stranger?

  Who is this young girl staring back at me?

  I don’t know you.

  Minutes quickly passed as Cameron stood in the mirror watching herself cry…

  So many thoughts ran through her mind. Shit was too crazy lately and it was only getting crazier. The reality of it all was that Cameron was alone. Alone in this crazy ass world she called life.

  Slowly, she reached for the top drawer, and pulled it open. A few seconds later, Cameron brandished a pair of sharp-edged scissors. With trembling fingers, she brought the scissors unnervingly closer to her face all the while staring directly at her reflection.

  Before she could think twice about what she was doing, she began hacking off her beautiful hair…

  ***

  “Cameron? Cameron?!” Marcus called out. He pulled his Samsung Galaxy away from his face and stared at the screen for several seconds. The call’s timer was still going so it was obvious that Cameron hadn’t disconnected the call. “Yo! Cameron?!”

  Marcus had a half a mind to just drive over to Cameron’s condo and see what was up with her. Then he remembered that tonight was The Punisher’s “All White Affair Birthday Bash.” Anytime any of the dancers celebrated a birthday coupled with a unique theme, there was bound to be tons of money to be made; especially considering the few dancers who were coming from out of town in order to make special guest appearances.

  There was Satisfaction from ATL, Boy Toy from Memphis, and Warning coming all the way from Miami.

  Marcus finally disconnected the call after it was apparent that Cameron was done with the conversation. I don’t know what this chick is on, but I hope she aight, he thought to himself.

  Marcus then scanned the time on his cellphone’s home screen. It was 7:46 p.m. The doors to the show opened at 9:00 p.m., granted Marcus also needed time to briefly mingle with the crowd, prepare for his performance, and reach a certain level of high in order to feel comfortable enough to perform.

  Marcus was by no means a man with low self-esteem. With smooth dark chocolate skin, a low haircut with soft brush waves, and a neatly trimmed goatee, Marcus was often told that he resembled running back for the Miami Dolphins, Reggie Bush. He was a pretty boy with a rugged demeanor.

  “You ready to roll out?” Psyklone aka Xavier asked as he took a final pull on his tightly rolled blunt. The expression he gave Marcus pretty much said it all, but he decided to hold his thoughts back. Why is he sweating this bitch like he can’t have whatever girl he wants?

  Marcus was no fool, and didn’t miss the look in his homie’s eyes. “Lemme hit that shit real quick,” he said walking over towards Xavier who sat comfortably on Marcus’s smoky Glencrest sofa.

  Xavier handed over the blunt, stood to his feet and stretched. He was six feet three inches tall, possessed the body of a Greek God, and was considerably handsome with his chiseled facial features and smooth brown skin. His shoulder length dreadlocks were always tied back, and a mural of tattoos adorned his body from the neck down. An ex-drug dealer turned exotic dancer, Xavier was practically born with a hustler’s instinct.

  “I mean it ain’t my business but—”

  “So why you in mine?” Marcus cut Xavier off before taking an aggressive drag on the blunt.

  “Bruh, this bitch got a…” His voice immediately trailed off the minute Marcus cut his eyes at him. Instead of initiating a confrontation, Xavier decided to drop the subject…for now.

  Marcus and Xavier had been longtime friends ever since they each got involved in the male exotic dancing business. Xavier, by no means, hated on his homeboy’s feelings toward Cameron, but he just knew that Cameron also came with a load of baggage via the streets. Her ex-boyfriend, Silk had committed suicide, and her best friend Pocahontas had gotten murked by some random cat in the streets. Xavier would just hate to see his boy, Marcus fall prey to Cameron’s never-ending drama.

  ***


  Cameron stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She now looked like a cross between Britney Spears and Miley Cyrus after they hacked off their precious hair. She now felt a whole lot better, but unfortunately her appearance didn’t match the way she felt.

  Cameron’s eyes slowly wandered down towards the mess she had made in the sink. She looked at her hair, and considered it to be the past and pain she had experienced over the months.

  “What did you do girl?” she asked herself.

  Her bizarre appearance was actually kind of amusing. Now she had to think of a stylish way she would have to wear her butchered hair.

  Suddenly, and without warning, vomit shot up from the pit of her stomach. She rushed towards the porcelain toilet, and before she could kneel down in front of it, the contents of her stomach sprayed onto the toilet seat and plush contour rug beneath her feet.

  Cameron dropped to her knees, landing in the small puddle of vomit, and puked into the toilet bowl for what felt like hours until she was spitting up nothing more than yellowish stomach acid. Painful spasms followed shortly after.

  After wiping away the lengthy dribble of drool oozing off her bottom lip, Cameron gently laid her head against the rim of the toilet. She slowly closed her eyes and contemplated what she was going to do about her unexpected pregnancy. Cameron didn’t know the first thing about raising a child, and she surely didn’t sign up for the stressful position of being a single parent with Jude behind bars.

  ***

  DJ won’t you play this girl a love song…

  She really needs to hear this freakin’ love song…

  She's lookin' at me kinda hard, I can tell that things ain't right on the home front…

  What she really needs is a G like me to beat a beat, beat it, beat it…

  Peer Pressure serenaded across the stage of Pandora’s Box as he enticed the female audience with his X-Rated performance. A pair of unbuttoned, unzipped, loose fitting denim jeans hung off his waist. Oil glistened on his smooth chestnut colored skin, and his body was toned and ripped to perfection.

  Peer Pressure was the youngest male dancer employed at Pandora’s Box at only twenty-two years old, but his popularity outweighed some of the vets who had been in the business for years.

  Women hooted and hollered from the audience as if they were at a Trey Songz concert instead of a male revue birthday bash. Flashing bills in their hands, and wide grins on their faces it was obvious that everyone was there for unadulterated entertainment at its finest.

  Gotcha wanna try me…

  Homeboy can't please ya…

  On this wall in the open baby…

  You wouldn't care if the crowd was watchin' baby…

  You want it…

  I know it…

  Gotta notion to pull yo’ ass up outta here…

  Marcus aka Klimaxxx swaggered through the thick crowd of onlookers making sure to stop at every table in the club in order to greet and/or introduce himself to the guests. He wanted to make sure the women had a good look at him before he went on stage to do his thing. Mingling with the audience before his performance always ensured that he’d get tipped well.

  Marcus loved the overwhelming attention he received from the many women doing what he did. He wore a pair of high top sneakers, khakis, and a $230 designer t-shirt by Maison Martin Margiela. Marcus lifted his shirt up, and allowed women to rub and caress his rock hard six pack as they admired his toned physique.

  Any man would argue that this was the life, and Marcus honestly had no real issue with the money he earned, but he would be damned if he did this shit forever. He had long-term goals and dreams that went far beyond taking his clothes off, and shaking his dick for money. Dancing was only something temporary for him.

  “Oh my God! His abs is so freaking hard!” One of Marcus’s admirers exclaimed as she gently ran her slender fingers over his abdomen where the word: Klimaxxx was tattooed in bold Old English text.

  She looked no older than twenty-three or twenty-four years old, was brown-skinned and rather slender in frame. A pair of black Burberry eyeglasses rested on her narrow nose and she was cute in a nerdy, innocent sense.

  “This ain’t the only thing that’s hard, baby,” Marcus flirted.

  The young female’s eye shot open in disbelief after his comment. She offered a girlish giggle in response.

  Xavier suddenly walked up to Marcus and tapped him on his shoulder. “I’m up after Peer Pressure and then it’s on you,” he told him before walking off.

  Marcus nodded his head, bent down towards his nerdy admirer, and whispered something in her ear. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she nodded her head. Marcus then made his way towards the dressing room in order to prepare for his performance.

  Once inside Marcus took a seat at the vanity and pulled out his cellphone to see if Cameron had called. He was the only one inside the dressing room since all the other dancers were on the floor mingling. As expected, he received no call or text message from her.

  “Damn. What’s up with her?” Marcus ran a hand over his soft brush waves in frustration.

  It was crazy how a woman could have so much influence over his life that had done nothing even remotely significant for him. Hell, Marcus and Cameron had never even slept with one another and there he was sweating her like a nerdy teen in high school crushing on the most popular cheerleader. Marcus couldn’t get the chick off his mind, and he was far from being pressed for pussy especially considering his profession.

  Women practically threw themselves at him. Male strippers got as much love and attention as a professional athlete or popular music artist. As fucked up as it sounded women were at his disposal, so Marcus couldn’t, for the life of him figure out why he was sweating Cameron so hard.

  It’s just something about her, he continued to tell himself over and over. It’s always just been something about her.

  Even when Cameron used to date his deceased homeboy Silk, Marcus constantly found his eyes straying to Cameron’s luscious body, smooth pecan colored skin, and gorgeous smile. She was bad as hell and she knew it, and so did everyone else who laid eyes on her.

  What he was feeling most of all about Cameron was that she had goals in life. He was digging the fact that she was in college, and actually pursuing something. There was nothing worse than a bitch without goals or expectations in life.

  Marcus tried to shake Cameron from his thoughts as he refocused on the money that needed to be made tonight. Pulling out a tiny plastic baggie from his jeans pocket, he examined the colorful miniscule pills inside. This was his addiction, and seemingly he needed it just to feel comfortable enough to perform.

  Marcus abided by the same routine for the few years he had been entertaining. He quickly undressed, popped two ecstasy pills, and slowly waited for the wonderful high to come soon after. He had tried on several occasions to quit popping, but he just couldn’t kick the addiction no matter how hard he tried. After pulling on a pair of olive camo cargo shorts, and black combat boots, he topped the outfit off with a vintage army fatigue hat.

  Knock!

  Knock!

  Marcus averted his attention to the soft taps on the dressing room’s door. He knew who was on the opposite end, before the door even opened seconds after. Marcus’s nerdy admirer traipsed into the dressing room with a Cheshire cat grin on her pretty face.

  Marcus didn’t even know her name nor did he care to. He was just happy that she had actually come.

  “You wanted me to meet you back here?” she asked breathlessly. She felt a combination of nervousness and anxiousness.

  She knew she had no business being back there alone with Marcus especially since she had a man who would literally break her little ass in half if he even knew where she was. However, she had allowed her girls to peer pressure her into attending the show. She promised herself that she would at least behave herself, but the minute Marcus had whispered in her ear to meet him in the dressing room in twenty minutes, she had tossed her pr
omise out the window—as well as the fact that she had a fiancée. A few shots of Grey Goose in her system had her thinking and preparing to behave irrationally.

  Marcus grinned, and held up a small bottle of baby oil. “Rub me down real quick…” It was more a statement than an actual question.

  His nerdy admire slowly made her way over towards him. Her clit began to throb at the mouthwatering sight of Marcus. His defined, muscular torso beckoned for her hands to touch and caress him all over. She slowly took the bottle from Marcus and proceeded to oil his toned upper back. Once his back was oiled to perfection she lathered his chest and abdomen down.

  “That’s good?” she asked revealing that wide grin of hers.

  Marcus could hear Twista’s “Get It Wet” in the distance. He wondered if Xavier was up on stage by now.

  He took a seat in the chair and pulled his admirer into his lap. “You know you sexy as fuck in a librarian kinda way,” he told her.

  She giggled and looked away.

  “You gotta man?” Marcus asked.

  She looked down and nodded her head.

  Marcus didn’t give a damn as he guided her hand towards his crotch and placed her small palm over it. Her eyes instantly bulged in their sockets as she allowed him to ease her hand up and down his lengthy dick through his cargo shorts.

  This wasn’t initially part of his plan, and Marcus usually wasn’t this mannish and impulsive, but he was feeling the effects of the ecstasy he had popped. He slowly removed her eyeglasses and placed them on the vanity’s countertop.

  “You pretty as fuck,” Marcus said telling her exactly what she wanted to hear. “You gon’ tip me when I go up on stage right?” he asked.

  She nodded her head eagerly. “Of course,” she answered. “I’ma tell my girls to too.”

  That’s exactly what he wanted to hear.