by Jayha Leigh
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to offend Atlanta’s second-best friend because she has so few of them.” She laughed.
“True, although the ones she does have are quite impressive,” Ianikut said as he slowly looked her over.
“So, since ‘Imax’ isn’t an insult, how did she come to peg you thusly?”
“Because the many syllables in my legal name make it difficult for her to cuss me out, so she shortened it for her convenience.”
“Well?”
Thinking that perhaps he had missed part of her question, Ianikut asked, “Well, what?”
“What’s your legal name?” She went on when he didn’t answer her fast enough. “Dude, what does your mother call you when you’re in trouble?”
“I was never in trouble. I was and continue to be a perfect son ‑‑ the paradigm for all sons everywhere.”
“And apparently I selected the ‘I’ll take complete bullshit for a thousand, Alex’ category,” Aloha returned. “Seriously, you have a Y-chromosome; therefore, you were constantly in trouble, so get over yourself and tell me your full name.”
Laughing he answered, “Ianikut Maksim Aleksandrovich. If you would like, you may simply refer to me as Max.”
“Definitely a lot of syllables, but it sounds impressive. Since you’re the man wearing such a name, it must mean something. What?”
“Ianikut is translated as ‘unconquered,’ and Maksim is translated as ‘great.’”
“Hmm, unconquered and great. Wait until you meet the right woman.” She smiled.
“What happens then?”
He watched Aloha blow an errant braid out of her face before she answered, “She’ll conquer you, of course.”
“Probably so that she can have access to all of my greatness.”
Raising a single brow, she laughed. “You’re modest too. It’s still nice to meet you, Ianikut Maksim Aleksandrovich.”
“I assure you that the pleasure is all mine, Aloha Carrington.”
“Well, of course it is.” She winked. “By the way, Ianikut is too beautiful a name to be nicked. Therefore that’s what I’ll be calling you.”
Ianikut’s already hard body went harder upon hearing her wrap her voice around his name. “Thank you, Aloha. That’s very kind of you.”
“I didn’t say it to be kind. I said it because it’s true. When you have a daughter, you can name her Iani.”
Is that what we’re going to name our daughter? he wondered. Telling his subconscious to shut the hell up was futile. She didn’t seem to require a response to her proclamation, which was a good thing because it took everything he had to keep his body in check. It was only his ironclad will that allowed him to maintain control when she mentioned him having a daughter. Although he had never considered having children with a particular woman, he had no trouble imagining begetting a daughter with her. Visions of planting his seed within her almost caused him to lose his grip on his tight control. He ran his tongue over his eyeteeth and looked upon the Carolina blue color scheme that decorated the house in an effort to prevent his fangs from descending.
Aloha interrupted his train of thought. “Come with me, please,” she prompted, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the hall. Though he was curious as to what the petite woman was up to, he didn’t miss the warning look Iain directed his way. Aloha led him to a bedroom and pushed him onto the bed.
“Ah,” he protested. His control was already tenuous, so she didn’t need to be near him when they were in the vicinity of a bed.
“Ianikut, be quiet. I’m not about to have my wicked way with you.”
No, but all you have to do is ask.
“Geesh,” she said as she disappeared into a closet and threw out a handful of T-shirts. “Try these.”
“What?”
“Ianikut, try on these shirts.”
“But I already have on a shirt.”
She blew out a breath before responding. “Yeah, and that’s the problem. It sucks and is totally inappropriate for throwing down at a tailgate party.”
Looking at her rather petite form, he remarked, “I don’t believe we’re the same size.”
“You’re right. You’re nowhere near as stacked as I am, but I have this under control. They’re all 3XL, so they should fit.”
She must have noticed his silence because she paused and asked, “Okay? You’ve gone quiet on me. Is it shyness, or do you need help?”
Dammit, he wasn’t shy, but he was on the verge of…jealousy? Anger? Whose shirts did she just hand him? Noticing the rhythmic foot-tapping and guessing it was from agitation, he answered her. “I don’t need help, but I have no desire to wear some other man’s clothing.”
“Ianikut, did you just go into mom mode on me?”
“And if I did?”
“Well, if you knew anything about me, you’d know going mom on me was futile. After a while, even my mom learned that. Now had you gone grandmom mode on me, I might’ve been scared. You just need to settle down, pal, being that you’re just a man and I’m a grown woman.”
Ianikut harrumphed at her assertion. He glanced at her scant form before lifting a brow and asking, “Really?”
“Yeah, really, and I’m not a tramp. I wouldn’t bring a man to my room if I was involved with another man. Now think of a suitable way to apologize to me and put on a decent shirt.”
“Whose shirts are these?”
“Being that this is my room and this is my closet, logic would suggest they’re my shirts.”
“And why do you have shirts that big?”
“Are you, like, lead interrogator for the Men in Black? I have these shirts because they completely rock and they’re kickass colors.”
He supposed that made some kind of sense, being that she was friends with Atlanta. “Do you have any shirts in colors other than neon?”
“Yeah, but why would you want to wear something not in neon?”
“It’s a little hard on the eyes.”
“Oh, so am I hard on your eyes?”
Knowing he was dangerously close to walking into a trap, he considered his words and then quickly realized that, regardless of his answer, she had neatly trapped him. Sighing like a martyr, he responded. “No, you’re not hard on the eyes; however, your shirt can stop traffic at fifty yards.”
“I’m impressed you’re being straight up, even after you realized you walked into a trap. But you know I can’t let you get away with dissing my wardrobe.”
“Why not? Aren’t you dissing mine?”
“I’m definitely dissing yours because you don’t rock business casual wear at a tailgate party. And just so you know, it’s not my shirt that can stop traffic at fifty yards ‑‑ it’s what’s in the shirt,” she replied with a wink before venturing back into her closet and triumphantly reemerging waving a Carolina blue shirt. “It’s only a 2XL, though.”
“But it’s a Carolina shirt,” he whined.
“And the problem would be?” she asked, clearly affronted.
“The problem would be that I’m a Duke alumnus.”
“Eww, gross. My throat just filled with bile. I can’t believe that Atlanta associates with you. Did you disclose this information before she became friends with you?” she asked with an expression that said that if there was a can of bug spray or a bottle of disinfectant around, she would’ve zapped him with it.
“Yes, and she has spent virtually all of our acquaintance trying to reform me.”
“I’ll have Indy pray for you.” She tsk-tsked while shaking her head. “Although I’m not sure holding a masters in both theology and divinity are enough credentials to accomplish much on that front, considering the severity of your affliction.”
“Being a Duke alum is not an affliction,” Ianikut huffed.
“Being a Duke grad gives you the allele for the affliction. However, you’re also a Duke fan, and that is definitely, inarguably, without a doubt, an affliction. Case argued and won ‑‑ mostly in intercollegiate play.”
&nb
sp; Ianikut sighed at her warped logic. “You’re…”
“Intelligent?”
“Delusional,” he corrected.
“Whatever, dude. The first step is to admit you have a problem,” she finished. “Now, go change into a decent shirt.”
Ianikut took the shirt and went into the adjoining bath to change. He thought the shirt was a bit tight, and his suspicions were confirmed when he walked out.
Aloha swallowed several times before she could get a proper sentence out, but she quickly recovered. “Wow. You’re kind of hot ‑‑ for a Duke fan. Come on, before we miss kickoff.”
Before he could muster a suitable reply, she grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the room.
As soon as he stepped foot in the dining room, Silana immediately put him to work.
Noticing that neither Aloha nor Atlanta helped, Ianikut felt compelled to ask, “Why aren’t you two helping?”
“We already did our part. We got the ice for today’s shindig.”
“And the napkins,” Atlanta threw in.
“That’s right.” Aloha clapped her hands and instructed, “Now get to work.”
“Did you just demote me to staff?” Ianikut asked disbelievingly.
“Like you were ever above the rankings of staff,” Atlanta threw in.
“Yeah, what she said.” Aloha punctuated this by sticking her tongue out at him.
After carrying in what seemed to be hundreds of platters of food, they finally sat and awaited grace. As soon as Indy said “Amen,” the women began loading up their plates as if they were gearing up for hibernation through an ice age or three.
“You guys, Ianikut’s a Duke fan,” Aloha shared.
Victorious let out a sigh of disgust and resignation. “What is it with the men we know? It’s bad enough that Iain is a Virginia alum, and now this?”
“Yeah, but at least Iain isn’t a Duke alum,” Aloha defended. She liked Iain in spite of his unfortunate choice of universities.
“Gross, and she let him in the house?” Zuri said.
“She lets you in the house,” Reign said.
“I might be a Duke alum but I’m not a Duke fan. Attending Carolina as an undergrad not only means that I’m already house-trained; it means that my blood is the same Carolina blue as yours. Besides, she knows where my loyalty lies,” Zuri said.
“True that. Zuri definitely isn’t picky about where she lies,” Atlanta said.
“As long as he has all the proper accoutrements,” Victorious said.
“Which means that he has to be loaded,” Aloha said.
“And packing,” Reign said sotto voce, while all of the women smiled and threw suggestive leers at Ianikut.
“So, Ianikut,” Silana said. “You’re a man who looks like he can withstand a lot of punishment, so why haven’t you hooked up with Atlanta?”
Atlanta choked, while the rest of the Posse simply laughed at the look of horror that crossed his face. Ianikut saw more than his share of disgusting things in his life and as yet had never vomited, but the thought of a romantic liaison with Atlanta made him shudder. “Because. That’s. Quite. Sickening,” he choked out. “No offense.”
“None taken. Did the rest of y’all forget the ‘no talking about disgusting things at the dinner table’ rule?”
“Aloha’s the one that brought up the topic of Duke,” Silana threw in.
“Is it because he’s white?” Iain asked.
“Are you kidding me? It’s because he’s practically my freaking brother and because he actually thinks golf is a real sport.”
“But golf is a sport. It meets all three of the criteria. Nike makes shoes for it. It’s featured on ESPN. They serve liquor at the event,” Iain joked. “So it would be okay if you wanted to date him.”
“Excuse me. I’m going to be sick,” Atlanta said as she ran from the table.
“See, that’s why you shouldn’t have married a man that went to school somewhere other than Carolina.” Zuri shook her head at Victorious.
“At least I stayed within the conference, so shut up and stop ogling my man. Ogle Imax…that’s what he’s here for.”
“I’m not a piece of meat,” he protested.
“That’s right. Because if you were, you’d be marinating in barbeque sauce and roasting slowly on the grill,” Jack threw in.
“Why do I get the feeling that I shouldn’t even bother trying to get in a word?”
“Oh, don’t be that way, Imax. You can give your opinion. We’ll mock it, tear it to shreds, and bring it up pretty much forever, but feel free to offer your opinion,” Silana said sweetly.
“Imax, I like you, so I’m going to give you this piece of advice. Just let it go, brother. It’s so much less painful,” Iain said.
“But, what if ‑‑” he began.
“Imax, Imax, Imax. Just concede defeat now, and we might let you keep your dignity.” Silana smiled.
“But just to show you how nice we can be, I’ll throw a few compliments your way every now and then,” Zuri promised.
Chapter Two
Ianikut officially suffered from an overdose of sports, food, and trash talking. Not only were the women who composed the Posse all lunatics; they were all Southern to the bone, meaning that they didn’t believe a person was full the first five times they claimed such. You weren’t done eating until you had to unbutton or unzip something, and that meant you had just enough room for dessert. He didn’t understand how they managed to keep those fine forms. Even Jack, the mostly silent woman who wore intimidation like a second skin had a nice shape, not that he’d ever mention it unless he wanted to discover the joys of peeing blood.
At some point, Aloha sweet-talked him into holding a control pad while she executed a series of finishing moves from a new video game that she had purchased. Per the bylaws of the South, she enjoyed sports, but her passion was reserved for video games. Her love of video games became even more apparent when she proceeded to engage the game and completely forgot all about his presence.
He sat quietly holding the control pad and once again wondered how he had gotten roped into yet another ridiculous scenario. While everyone else was sitting in the living room watching sports highlights, he was in the den watching Aloha. Oh, yeah, it was her mouth. It was a good thing that Aloha only expected him to sit quietly and hold the pad, because his mind was occupied with fantasies of her. She was a petite woman, perhaps only five-three, but she looked like she was a handful under that too-large, hideously colored shirt. Her hair was just as odd as her wardrobe. She had masses of braids that were tied up in little balls and accented with blue. Though odd, it only served to accentuate how pretty she was. Though she wasn’t beautiful in the traditional sense, she possessed a vibrant beauty that had nothing to do with her clothes. Aloha was unlike any other woman that he had met, and having met the strange collection of women that comprised the Posse, that said a lot.
Ianikut was intrigued. He enjoyed hearing his name come from her kissable mouth. Perhaps his intrigue was due to the fact that Aloha seemed to be immune to him. Perhaps it was because he was white, or maybe it really was because he was a Duke fan. Either way, she had successfully blocked out his presence, which was a new experience for him. Men tended to mark his presence because he exuded danger; women tended to mark his presence because he exuded wealth and sexuality.
Aloha finally noticed him when he stifled another yawn.
“You’re tired already?” she asked disbelievingly before mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like weak-ass rich boy.
“Yes, my internal clock is still set to a different time zone.”
“Oh, well, I’ll get Atlanta to drive you home.”
“I can drive myself home, though I appreciate the offer.”
“Ianikut, Atlanta isn’t going to let you drive home when you’ve been drinking, so you might as well concede defeat now,” she stated and then yelled for Atlanta.
Shivering at the thought of the dangerous Atlanta driving him
anywhere, he tried to persuade the ladies that he was okay to drive home. That didn’t work. Silana noted his argument, and then Jack took his keys away. He was left with three options, only one of which was palatable. He could have Atlanta drive him home, or he could spend the night at Aloha’s house, which was, according to her, two hops, a skip, and three-quarters of a jump away. Then there was that third option, which Jack had offered him ‑‑ he could have his ass whipped and spend the rest of the night unconscious and in an undignified heap on the floor. He opted for spending the night with Aloha, since it looked like Atlanta already had a full house. He considered putting his foot down, but something in him wanted to spend more time with Aloha. Being that Aloha and Atlanta were best friends, he was sure that Aloha wouldn’t listen to a damned thing he said either.
* * * * *
After receiving a verbal caveat from Iain, a warning look from Jack, and a wink from Zuri, Ianikut found himself unceremoniously shoved in the direction of the garage, where Aloha directed him to a candy-apple red convertible Ferrari 550 Barchetta that was hidden behind the monstrosity that Atlanta referred to as a vehicle. When he commented on her car, Aloha merely rubbed her hands together in glee before petting the powerful machine with obvious joy for the lengthy five-mile trip to her digs. An admonition to buckle up was the only warning that he received before Aloha opened her up and tore ass down the street. If he had been drunk, the combination of Aloha belting out “Where the party at?” along with Jermaine Dupree and the zero to sixty in under five seconds would’ve sobered him right up. Who knew it was possible to hit a speed of sixty miles an hour before reaching the end of the driveway?
Aloha gave him the two-second tour, which consisted of standing in what she referred to as the control room and pointing out the location of the kitchen and the bathroom. He couldn’t help but smile as he looked around the room. It was appropriately named considering the sheer volume of electronics in the room. Walking into Aloha’s house was like walking into a high-end electronics store. Her home theater boasted a sixty-five-inch LCD television for viewing, another one that had the latest video game console hooked up to it, and a mother lode of high-definition components. The only furniture in the room was a plush leather chair at the computer workstation and a full-size trampoline covered with throw pillows. If anyone other than Aloha inhabited the house, the trampoline would’ve been overkill, but it was Aloha, so it fit right in.