The Lies We Tell for Love (The Love, Lies & Lust Series)

by Mz. Robinson

  Chapter 18

  Octavia

  I made myself a pledge that if Damon’s Atlanta office kept giving him problems, I was going to jump in my whip and make the four-hour drive my damn self and start regulating and kicking asses! After we finished making unbelievable love in Memphis, he sprung on me that he would be out of town for the weekend. I was not feeling my man being gone again, but at the same time, I had to respect his hustle.

  Mama and Daddy called requesting to spend the weekend with Jasmine, so Contessa decided to go to Tennessee for the weekend to visit her son Jay, which meant I had nothing to do with my time. After cleaning my already dust-free home, thanks to Contessa Pledging every square inch and corner every chance she got, I took a shower and stretched across mine and Damon’s bed. After staring at the vaulted ceiling for well over ten minutes, I decided to give my bestie a call to see how things were going on her escapade around the world.

  “Everything is going well,” Shontay said.

  I could tell she was beaming on the other end of the phone.

  “The people here are so beautiful, Tavia.”

  I listened as Shontay went on and on about her adventures in Africa and the jungle.

  “Savoy and I actually went on a safari. The animals were so close to the vehicle that we could almost reach out and touch them.” She continued, “You have got to come see this place for yourself. It’s just…amazing.”

  “What the hell?” I asked. “Tay, I barely get close to wild animals in the zoo. There is no way I’m riding through their turf close enough for them to reach out and take a bite out of me or kill me with one of their claws.” She erupted in laughter, but I was more than serious. If God intended for us to ride alongside wild animals, He would have named Damon and me Tarzan and Jane, and the last time I checked, I wasn’t living in a tree house with a chimpanzee for a pet.

  “Well, my adventure will be coming to an end in a couple of weeks,” Shontay said, disheartened.

  “You’re coming back to the States?” I asked excitedly. I was happy that my girl was having the time of her life, but I missed having my sister around.

  “Yes.” She sighed. “But I have a major dilemma.”

  “Which is?”

  “Savoy wants me to move to Atlanta, but my home is there.”

  “If I remember correctly, you sold your home,” I reminded her. “So you’re homeless, right? Rich, but homeless.”

  It was true. Shontay had put her home on the market when Kenny had refused to grant her a divorce and move out. Before Shontay’s mother, Josephine, had passed, there was a span of several years when the two of them were not on speaking terms. During that time, Josephine had managed to score a winning lottery ticket. She had attempted to contact Shontay, but Kenny’s trifling ass had blocked her number. Not only that, but he also hid all the letters she wrote to Shontay, and he stole several thousand dollars out of them—gifts intended for Shontay. After Josephine passed away, Shontay discovered the truth about why her mother wasn’t able to contact her and that Kenny had known about her inheritance all along. Shontay finally made up her mind that she was done with Kenny and asked him for a divorce. Kenny agreed, on the condition that Shontay pay him half of everything she owned. Even though the home the two of them shared at the time had been somewhat of a family heirloom, given to Shontay by her grandmother, he refused to leave. The only agreement the two of them could come to was that the house would go on the market and they would split the profits from its sale. The house sold, but Kenny never received his half of the money; he was dead before the check was cut.

  “You have a point.” Shontay giggled. “But if I remember correctly, I have a nice studio apartment—better known as your guesthouse—waiting for me.”

  “Well, you had one,” I teased.

  “What do you mean had?”

  “One of our employees is residing there.”

  “You gave my apartment to the hired help?” Shontay asked, laughing lightly. “Tell that broad she has to get her shit out of my place.”

  “I’ll relay the message, but the broad is a dude,” I said, “and I’m only joking—sort of. He’s just staying there temporarily. In fact, this will be his last week.”

  “Who is he?” Shontay asked. “And what is so damn special about him that he gets to sleep in my bed?”

  I took a few minutes to bring Shontay up to speed on Contessa and Kelly. I also enlightened her on the night I’d caught Kelly naked in the hot tub.

  “So what is he working with?” Shontay asked, point blank.

  “What do you mean?”

  “C’mon, girl! His body. Is it banging? Is his dick hanging, swinging, or just barely leaning?”

  I laughed, thinking back to the time when my best friend was too timid to discuss menstrual cramps, let alone the size of a man’s penis. She had changed over the years, and her confidence was now off the Richter Scale. I was going to tell her that I hadn’t noticed, but she cut me off.

  “And don’t tell me you didn’t notice, because we both know otherwise.”

  “I really didn’t get to see his man,” I said, “but the rest of his body is nicely developed.”

  “Nicely developed? What the hell does that science textbook shit mean?”

  “I could tell he takes care of himself,” I said.

  “Is he fine?” she asked loudly. “Can you tell me if the man is fine?”

  “Why are you concerned? You’re with the second-finest man I’ve ever seen.”

  “Just because I’m with Savoy doesn’t mean I’m canceling all other men out of the equation.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means Savoy and I have an open relationship. Although we’re together, we will not rule out the fact that there might be someone with whom we may be more compatible.”

  “So you guys agreed to see other people?” I concluded.

  “Right now, we’re only seeing each other, but we’ve agreed to leave our options open.”

  I heard what she was saying, but it all sounded like a load of bullshit to me. If you have a strong connection with someone and love them, why leave the door open? Doesn’t that just invite problems or complications? “Well, if you two like it, I love it,” I said.

  “Besides, we don’t know what’s going to happen when we return to the States,” Shontay added. “After being with Kenny and being unhappy for so long, I think it’s best that I take my time with my next commitment.”

  “I agree with you on that,” I said.

  “So what’s up with you for tonight?”

  “Well, Damon’s in Georgia on business,” I said, “and your goddaughter is with Mama and Daddy.” I rolled over on my stomach and paused before saying, “So I guess I got nothing going on.”

  “Why don’t you go out, Tavia?” Shontay asked. “I remember a time when you used to tear the club up.”

  “I don’t know,” I whined. “I guess marriage has changed me.”

  “Well, it should in some ways,” Shontay said, “but it shouldn’t stop you from being you. You just have to compromise on a few things and learn how to balance, but you still need your own identity and space,” she continued. “Even lovers need a break.”

  ***

  After Shontay and I hung up, I decided to get my ass up and take it out for some shaking. Before leaving the house, I called Damon to check in, but the call went straight to voicemail. I concluded that he must have been in a bad coverage area, so I left him a message and was on my way.

  I stepped into Club Hydro with my hair hanging straight over my shoulders, wearing a fitted one-shoulder, red, above-the-knee dress and red four-inch peep-toe stilettos. To accentuate the dress, I threw on a wide gold belt and a pair of long gold chandelier earrings. I looked ultra hot and felt super sexy. The only thing missing was my bestie.

  Club Hydro was one of Shontay’s and my favorite spots when we wanted to get our dance on. It had been well over a year since I had stepped foot in the place, and it seemed q
uite a few things had changed since then. The club was now strictly for ages twenty-five and older, and no athletic gear, baggy pants, or tennis shoes were allowed. One thing that hadn’t changed was that they still played the best hip hop and R&B, and the bartender—a short, dark chocolate, chubby brother named James—made the best concoctions in the history of mixed drinks.

  I sat at the bar sipping on one of my favorite drinks, something called a panty-dropper. I was trying hard to relax and enjoy the atmosphere, but all I could seem to think about were my husband and daughter. I decided I would have one more drink and then call it night. Sipping on my drink slowly, I sang along to Rick Ross’s “Aston Martin Music” pumping through the club speakers.

  “I don’t take you for the wallflower type,” I heard someone say from behind me.

  “Kelly?!” I smiled, facing him.

  He stood behind the stool where I was sitting, wearing an emerald-green button-down and jeans that were creased to perfection. Around his neck was a small platinum cross. He looked good. Slowly climbing on the stool next to me, he motioned for the bartender. “Double-shot of Hennessey please,” he ordered, “and another…what are you having?”

  “Um, it’s called a panty-dropper,” I said, slightly embarrassed, “but I was just leaving.”

  “Why?” Kelly asked, looking disappointed. “Have you been here long?”

  “No, but I’m just not feeling it,” I confessed. “I’m used to having my home girl with me.”

  “Why didn’t you bring her?”

  “She’s in West Africa.”

  “Damn.” Kelly laughed lightly. “That’s a good excuse—the best I’ve heard yet.”

  “It’s not an excuse,” I said, smiling. “She’s really in Africa.”

  “Well, where’s Damon?” he asked, tossing his shot back.

  “In Atlanta,” I sighed.

  “He’s on the go a lot, huh?”

  “Normally not back to back like he has been lately,” I said, “but business called, and he had to handle it.”

  “So you’re here all alone,” Kelly said, shaking his head, “looking like that?” The expression on his face was unreadable.

  “Like what?” I asked, playing dumb.

  “Nothing,” he said quickly. “Well, I’m here alone too. If you like, we can keep each other company.”

  I pondered his offer in silence.

  Kelly looked at me with raised eyebrows then finally motioned for James to come over. “Another panty-dropper,” he told him.

  I shrugged my shoulders then smiled. There was no use thinking about it anymore; it was obvious Kelly had made my decision for me.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, Kelly and I were on the dance floor, moving to Esther Dean’s “Drop it Low.” I giggled and laughed at him the entire time we were moving because he had no rhythm whatsoever, but there was no shame in his game. Kelly held his head high and smiled like he was the shit on the dance floor. When Jamie Foxx’s “Fall for Your Type” came on, I exhaled then turned to exit the dance floor.

  “Where you goin’?” Kelly asked, gently grabbing my arm and pulling me toward him.

  “To sit down,” I told him. “You are not going to stomp all over my toes,” I teased.

  “I may have two left feet when it comes to dropping it like it’s hot,” he said, “but please believe I can slow-drag like a pro.”

  “Mm-hmm.” I laughed.

  “Trust me,” he said, giving me a cocky smile. “I got you. Besides, you know I’m still on the mend. That’s the only reason why my two-step was more of a flop.”

  “Hurt my toes, and I will dock your pay for a month,” I said, slipping my arms up around his neck.

  Placing his hands on my hips, Kelly smiled. “They’re far too pretty for that,” he said nonchalantly.

  “True,” I said, agreeing with him.

  The two of us moved to the sounds of Jamie, and Kelly wasn’t lying when he said he could slow dance. He was actually coordinated when it came down to slow tempos.

  “So how did the two of you meet?” he asked.

  “Who?”

  “You and Damon.”

  The mere mention of how I met my husband made me smile ridiculously, like some silly schoolgirl embarrassed by a puppy-love crush. “I was sitting on my mother’s porch one day, and he pulled up asking for directions,” I said. “I was blown away when I saw him, so much so that I offered to lead him where he needed to go—and then some, because we ended up going out that night.” I continued, “From there, things just seem to fall into place.” Of course I conveniently left out the part about me screwing the dope dealer/killer by the name of Beau and all the strange occurrences that followed after Damon and I met and how Beau almost killed both us but Damon ended up killing him. I figured all those details would take away from our storybook romance a little.

  “Almost seems too good to be true,” Kelly said, staring at me.

  “Don’t get me wrong. We have our issues and problems, but the good outweighs the bad.”

  “Is that all that matters?” he asked. “The good outweighing the bad?”

  “I think so.”

  “Or does it depend on the magnitude of the bad? What if things were really, really good all the time, but then one really, really bad thing happened?”

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I guess it depends on what that one thing is.”

  “Well, hopefully the two of you will never have to go through that,” he said quickly.

  “I sure hope not,” I said, thinking of Damon. “I really hope not.”

  Kelly and I shared one more dance before we came to a mutual agreement that it was time for both of us to go.

  “Have you had dinner?” Kelly asked as we approached my car.

  “No…and I’m starving,” I confessed.

  “You wanna grab a bite?” he asked. “There’s this little spot over in Providence that has the best pizza.”

  “Mellow Mushrooms!” I said, as I was familiar with the Italian spot since Damon had taken me there a couple of times. I absolutely loved the place.

  “Yep, that’s the place.” Kelly smiled, rubbing his stomach. “I could go for their meatball appetizer.”

  It sounded so good, and my stomach was on red alert, growling like I hadn’t eaten in days. The only problem was that I had a light buzz from the three panty-droppers I’d guzzled down, and all I really wanted to do was go home, throw on some shorts and a cami, and watch a good movie while talking to Damon. “I think I’m going to pass this time,” I said.

  Kelly looked disappointed that I had turned down his invitation. “I understand,” he said. “It’s just that I hate eating alone in public on Saturday nights.” He gave me a sad puppy dog look that made me want to pat his head and call him a good boy.

  I laughed lightly then remembered I had over 4,500 square feet of loneliness waiting for me; my immaculate home that I usually shared with my daughter and husband was empty. Bearing that in mind, I decided to offer a compromise. “I’ll tell you what,” I said. “I make a mean, straight-from-scratch pizza pie and some of the best cheesy bread you can sink your teeth into.”

  “Say no more.” Kelly smiled and threw his hands up in the air like a suspect who’d been caught. “I’m sold.”

  I gave him a subtle smile as I pulled out my cell phone. Looking at the screen, I frowned: no missed calls or messages. Whatever had my hubby in Atlanta had him completely tied up. Too damn tied up, I thought, frowning even more.

  ***

  “Where did you learn to cook like that?” Kelly asked, licking his lips.

  The two of us sat at my kitchen island, finishing off our glasses of Moscato. After taking a quick shower and changing my clothes, I had made us a stuffed-crust meat pizza and garlic cheese sticks. I could barely finish half a slice; Kelly, on the other hand, had the appetite of a man who hadn’t eaten in days. He gobbled down two whole slices without taking a breath in between. “My mama is a great cook,” I to
ld him. “I learned my way around the kitchen at an early age because of her.”

  “Do you ever cook in your own restaurant?”

  “From time to time,” I said proudly. “In fact, I take the time to teach each and every one of my cooks my own personal recipes.”

  Kelly nodded his head and smiled. “So the almost-as-good-as-sex cheesecake is one of your recipes?”

  “Better-than-sex cheesecake,” I said, correcting him.

  “Well, as good as that dessert is, I beg to differ,” he said, lowering his eyes at me. The way he was staring at me caused my stomach to flutter.

  “Well, you have a right to your own opinion,” I said, “no matter how wrong it is.”

  “Come on now,” Kelly said, reclining in his chair. “Can you really compare cheesecake to sex? And I’m talking good sex,” he continued, “the kind of sex that leaves your legs shaking and your mouth dry because you’ve been moaning all night.” He paused and continued staring at me.

  I didn’t know if it was my alcohol high or what, but the way he was eyeing me seemed overtly sexual.

  “The way your body warms slowly from the inside out because he’s hitting it just right, and then when he hits that one special spot and he stays there pushing on your G-spot, making you wetter than you’ve ever been before and hotter than a summer day in Alabama…”

  He stopped there, but the flutters in my stomach continued, sending waves of excitement further down, to my most delicate region. Yes, looking at Kelly and listening to his words had made my pussy wet. Clearing my throat, I tried to concentrate on the fact that he was my employee, the hired help, and the entire conversation crossed far too many lines. It was completely and utterly inappropriate. “Well, when you put it that way…” I said, climbing off my chair. I made my way over to the kitchen sink with my empty plate in one hand and his in the other.

  “So you agree?” Kelly asked, joining me at the sink. He leaned against the counter, facing me. The two of us were close—close enough for me to smell the faint scent of Gucci Envy on his skin; close enough for his forearm to touch mine and send the fine hairs on my skin standing straight at attention like miniature soldiers; close enough that I could feel his warm breath, slightly tainted with alcohol from the Hennessey he had consumed earlier. We were so close that my nipples grew hard from his nearness, and in that moment, I knew we were too damn close!