Innuendos (It Had 2 B U Book 1)

by V. Kelly

  I smile down at her. “Do you disagree?”

  “No, of course not. You’d be the perfect man if you weren’t such a man-whore.”

  Shit. Seriously? She just had to bring up the man-whore thing, didn’t she? Here I am, making sure she’s feeling good, and she has to bring up my bordello of barflies again. When I’m quiet for a little too long, she looks up at me.

  “Are you okay?” she asks. “It was a joke, Max.”

  “I know,” I reply quickly. This is the closest that I’ve ever been to revealing why I’m such a man-whore. I want to tell her. I wish I could just blurt out that I’m in love with her, but the thought of losing her is too much to bear.

  “Max? Why do you look like you’re in pain right now?” She gently cups my face and uses the tips of her fingers to play with my facial scruff. I didn’t get a chance to shave this morning, so it’s quite pokey at the moment. Without thinking, my head careens into her hand and I nuzzle her palm.

  “I was thinking about some things. Don’t worry about it,” I tell her, removing her hand from my face. “What do you say about us going out tonight? Just you, me, and a lot of alcohol.”

  “You know I don’t like to drink that much.” She scrunches her nose at me.

  “I know, but sometimes having a little fun after a break-up is the only way to get over the pain.”

  She is quiet for a few seconds and then smiles. “Will you take me swing dancing instead?”

  “You know I don’t dance.”

  “I know, but I really want to dance. Last night was fun, and I want to keep that good feeling going. Will you take me dancing?”

  “Fine, but I’m calling for back up. I’m not going to be the only uncoordinated white man on that dance floor.”

  “Ugh, does it have to be Tony?”

  “He is my wing man, but I guess if he comes tonight, he’ll be more like my swing man, huh?” I grin until I realize what I said could be taken entirely out of context. Breezy also notices it, because she’s giggling.

  “Why, Max, I didn’t know you swung that way.”

  “Shut up, you. You know I’m not gay.”

  “Actually, I’ve never experienced it firsthand. For all I know, you could be playing patty-cake in there.”

  “The only patting I do in the bedroom is across a woman’s ass. If you need a demonstration, bend over. I’ll be sure this baker’s man bakes your cake as fast as he can.” I raise a suggestive eyebrow, and she punches my shoulder.

  “Stop it, Max. You’re doing it again.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Flirting with me. You get that crazy twinkle in your eye; then you say something provocative to rile me up.”

  “I like it when you get riled, Breezy. Your cheeks flush pink and your freckles pop out more.” I touch her nose.

  “Well, stop it. It’s that kind of thing that makes people get the wrong idea about us.”

  “Let them think what they want. Both you and I know what’s going on here.” I say it with confidence, but inside I’m in utter turmoil. I can’t stop flirting with Breezy—it’s impossible.

  “Yeah, you’re taking me swing dancing. Why don’t you invite that Maggie chick? She seemed like a nice girl. You actually made her breakfast the next day, too. You never do that.”

  “I was making breakfast for you. She just happened to still be here. Besides, she’s been getting close to Dashawn.”

  She looks up at me in shock. “Wait, she’s dating that ginormous Ebony God who works in your gym?”

  I laugh. “Yes, she is. It seems he has a sweet tooth for white, chubby, women who have a sense of humor.”

  “Man, you definitely need to invite her now.”

  “Why, so you can drool over Dashawn all night?”

  “The more man candy, the better. I need some distracting, Max—anything that can help me keep my mind off of Travis. Besides, you said I need some girl “friends”. She seemed really sweet. I’d love to get to know her better. Please, Max, can we go?” she whines.

  I groan and push her onto the floor. Her butt hits the ground with a large thump, and she glares at me.

  “What was that for?”

  “Motivation for me to go.” I get up from the couch. “I wanted you to feel the ground at least one time tonight. I sure as hell know I will be since I can’t dance.”

  She jumps to her feet and hugs me. “Thank you, Max! You’re the best!” She scampers off to her bedroom and leaves me on the couch.

  Did I mention I absolutely despise swing dancing? I think I did. If not, I loathe it. It’s right up there with chicks that have dicks and Spam. The only reason I even agreed to go is because that’s what my Breezy wants, and whatever Breezy wants, she’s going to get.

  Chapter Eleven

  Breezy

  Max kept true to his promise. He called his friends, and everyone agreed to meet at the House of Swing, a small swing dance club that’s nestled right in the heart of Miami.

  Around seven, I come skipping out of my bedroom dressed to impress. My brown hair is done up like a fifties pin-up lady. I’m wearing a short red and white polka dot dress, cute red flats, and white gloves. I even painted myself to look the part as well: skin, finely powered and shining like porcelain, green eyeshadow so bright it might as well be a flashing like a neon sign on the Las Vegas strip, and pink rouge, and ruby red lipstick that perfectly shade my two favorite features.

  I really hope Max likes what I’m wearing.

  The minute I get into the living room, my heart stops. There stands Max in a black and white zoot suit and matching hat. Fitting him perfectly, the suit hugs his shoulders enough to show off the form of his muscles but not enough to be constricting. His outfit is accented with a white shirt, black tie, and suspenders attached to pin-striped black slacks. He tips his hat to me when I stop in front of him and grins.

  “You’re wearing a suit!” I exclaim.

  “I felt it was time to dust off the old zoot suit. It’s been awhile.”

  “You haven’t worn that since my cousin Greta’s wedding! That was like two years ago.” I’m not sure why, but for some reason my entire body has heated up at least ten degrees. Max marches over to me and extends his arm. The minute I hook my arm within his, I’m hit by the sexiest cologne I’ve ever smelled in my life. Instantly, my senses are going crazy. My vagina is fanning herself between my legs, and my mouth is watering like I’m staring at a plate full of prime rib and haven’t eaten in days. Max always looks good, but tonight—holy fuck he looks hot!

  “You look absolutely stunning,” he tells me, grabbing a coat from the closet.

  “Why, thank you. You’re not so bad yourself, hot stuff. Just remember you’re my date tonight. No barflies.”

  “Is this a date?” He turns towards me with questions in his eyes.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Does that mean I get a goodnight kiss?” The intensity in the room has sky rocketed to new heights. Max just asked me to kiss him—my Max. With the way he’s looking at me right now, he could be serious, but knowing Max, he’s not.

  I push him playfully. “Only if you’re lucky,” I say with a wink.

  “I will be on my best behavior then. Whatever that is?”

  Once we get to the club, Maggie is standing outside with Dashawn. He’s wearing slacks and a button up teal shirt; she’s wearing a cute little, teal, floral dress. Dashawn has his arm around her waist, grinning like an idiot.

  “Hi Max,” Maggie squeals when she sees us. “Breeanne, you look amazing! Like you just time traveled from the fifties.”

  “Thank you!” I chirp. “You look beautiful as well; love the color coordinating teal.”

  “That was by accident. This is the only dress that looks flattering on me. Dashawn had no idea what I was going to wear.” She looks up at Dashawn, who kisses her chubby cheek. They are beyond cute together.

  “Hey guys, did we miss anything?” Tony is walking up the sidewalk with a hot, big-breasted, blonde. When h
e settles in front of us, Max and Tony indulge in their secret handshake.

  “You guys are idiots,” I remark smiling.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t the lovely Breeanne. Might I say, you’re looking ravishing tonight.” Tony’s smooth ego invades my personal space. He grabs my hand and kisses the back of it. Ugh, he’s so disgusting.

  “Lay off, Tony,” Max barks.

  Tony lets me go and chuckles. “Yes, I know. She’s all yours, Max.” I give Max a sideways glance, but all he’s doing is glaring at Tony.

  “Shall we swing?” I ask gleefully.

  “Yes, I’m more than open to swinging with you,” Tony exclaims delightfully.

  Tony cries like a bitch when Max smacks him behind his head. I stifle my giggle.

  “Asshole, lay off my date.”

  “Date? Are you two finally together?” Tony grins.

  “No, he’s just helping me get over a bad breakup. I wanted to dance, and now we’re here. So come on; let’s boogie.”

  I tug Max behind me, pulling him through the doors. Immediately, we’re assaulted by gyrating bodies, flipping and dancing across the dance floor. Jump Jive and Wail is playing loudly, and the bar is crowded with people. If my smile could get any bigger, it probably would be permanently plastered to my face. I’m addicted to swing dancing. My ex-boyfriend, Damian showed me how to do it, and since then I’ve been bitten by the swing bug. Getting my new boyfriends to go with me is almost impossible, so I have to rely on my good ole’ buddy Max to take me when I start getting the twitchy dance foot. I can’t wait to get out there. Not hesitating for even a second, I practically have to carry Max onto the dance floor. He really hates this stuff.

  “Come on, Max; don’t sulk. This will be fun.”

  “Says the girl who can actually swing dance. I think you forget that I was born with two left feet and chronic white boy disease.”

  “That’s okay; you know the drill.”

  He sighs. “Yeah, I do. Come on sexy, let’s dance.” Somehow Max is able to speak exactly like Kevin Bacon in Footloose. It makes me giggle. I wish he was more like the Bacon and less like Willard when it comes to dancing, though.

  Once on the dance floor, I spin around. Max stands there like a statue. He won’t even attempt to move to the beat. This is going to be very boring if I can’t get his ass in gear and start throwing me around like I want to be.

  “Now Max, what use are all those sexy muscles if you can’t swing me around the room and pick me up?”

  “Oh, I can pick you up just fine, only it would be to pin you up against the wall and find out what you’re hiding underneath that dress.”

  I hit his shoulder and laugh. “Stop it, Max, now grab my arms and spin me out and back in.” He grabs my wrists and spins me out. I roll back into him, slamming my ass right up into his crotch.

  “Oohmph,” he groans.

  Because I can, I grind my ass against him. His grip tightens on my arms, and I think I hear him moan. Or maybe not, it’s pretty loud in here. I notice that Maggie has dragged Dashawn out onto the dance floor. Neither one of them knows how to swing dance, but they look like they’re having fun anyway. Tony and his date Emma are sitting at the bar drinking. Actually, they are making out in between drinks.

  Max twirls me and whips me around so I’m facing him. His hand fingers my hair. For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. For some reason, I want him to. I move my lips so close to his that they’re almost touching. Max looks at me curiously, and I see him close his eyes.

  This is going to happen! Max is going to kiss me.

  Max’s hands come around my waist; I feel my feet lift off the ground. He lifts me high in the air, when he does I kick out my legs. My dress comes up and smacks Max in the head. He laughs and puts me back on the floor. He can stand there and throw me around all night if he wants to. I love the exhilaration of being tossed around and lifted into the air. It makes me feel like Baby from Dirty Dancing. A little part of me wishes he would’ve kissed me, though.

  Once the song is over, Max and I head over to the bar. Tony salutes Max with his beer, and hands him a drink before putting his arm around Emma. She eyes me and Max questioningly.

  “Are you dating each other?” Emma asks.

  “Nope, he’s my best friend,” I tell her smiling. Max hands me my favorite drink: a frozen strawberry margarita, minus the salt on the rim, and extra shots of tequila. The moment I take a swig, my face scrunches.

  Holy crap! That’s a lot of tequila.

  “I told him to give you an extra shot or two. Figured you would need it,” Max whispers in my ear. I flash him a toothy grin and lay my head on his shoulder. Max is so good to me. He knows exactly what I need when I need it.

  I murmur my thanks, and suck it down. Emma and Tony stare at me in amazement. I’m lucky the drink didn’t give me a damn brain freeze. Once it’s gone, I motion for the bartender and order another drink. That last one tasted amazing. Maggie and Dashawn have joined us now, and I hand Maggie a mimosa.

  “Thanks girl, I’m parched. My Chocolate God over here likes to give me a workout.” Dashawn wraps his arm around her and kisses her head.

  I almost spit out my drink. “Chocolate God? Classic! I’m totally in love with that expression. He’s definitely one giant Hershey bar of fineness.” What’s wrong with my mouth? I can’t be drunk already. I hope Maggie doesn’t think I’m hitting on her boyfriend.

  “I like to think of him more as Hershey Dark, but yes, he definitely cures my sweet tooth.”

  I’ve already drunk my second margarita. I didn’t even realize I was sucking the second one as fast as the first. Now I’m feeling a little lightheaded and giggling over nothing. “Is it true what they say? Are black men really hung to the point of never wanting white chocolate ever again?”

  “I’m a chocolate lover, any kind of chocolate will satisfy me, Breeanne.” She motions for me to come closer. “Yes, they really are hung.”

  I chuckle and find myself zeroed in on the front of Dashawn’s pants. I’m wondering what he’s packing under all that clothing. Maggie must see my line of vision because she covers my eyes with her hands and laughs.

  “Eyes off my chocolate. Find your own, drunk girl.”

  “Meso not runk.” I ramble. “It’s only been an hour, or a million.” I’m giggling again.

  “Okay, Breezy, how about I take you home now?” Max asks.

  “No!” I shout. “I wanna dance suuuumore,” I slur, combining my words.

  Max gives me a fatherly look and sighs. “Fine, let’s go dance.”

  We’re out on the dance floor for a few minutes. I’m starting to get annoyed because Max is barely moving. I want him to have fun, but instead, he’s acting like he’d rather be anywhere than with me.

  “Dance, Max,” I instruct.

  “Breezy, I just want to go home. We’ve been here for two hours. My feet hurt, and I really suck at this.” Frowning, he crosses his arms.

  “If you don’t want to be here, you can leave. I’m sure I can find a better dance partner. I came here to dance, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” I snap at him. “When did you become such a buzzkill anyway?”

  “You’re kinda a bitch when you drink. You know that?”

  “Well, you’re an asshole who can’t dance,” I quip.

  Wow, I am being a total bitch right now. Why am I being so mean to Max?

  He grabs my hand and tries to drag me off the dance floor. “Max, stop. I don’t want to leave!”

  “Breezy, you’re drunk, being a total bitch right now, and it’s time to go home. Let’s go before we both say something we’re going to regret.”

  “The only thing I regret is coming here with someone who doesn’t like to dance. Go home, Max. I don’t need you; all you do is ruin things.”

  He looks wounded. Dropping the hold he has on me, he throws up his hands. “Fine, whatever. Do what you want Breezy, but don’t take your fucked up feelings out on me. I’m not the one who d
umped your ass.”

  He turns away from me and stomps towards the bar. I watch him talk animatedly to Tony and Emma. They both look over at me and then back at him. Max plops down onto a bar stool, hanging his head. Tony pats him on the back and sits next to him. When Max looks over his shoulder and makes eye contact with me, I pretend to be having a good time dancing by myself, but really I’m pissed off. I hate that I’m treating Max like such crap. He doesn’t deserve what I said to him. He brought me here out of the goodness of his heart, and here I am acting like a complete bitch.

  What the hell is wrong with me tonight?

  Chapter Twelve

  Max

  I don’t like drunk Breezy. Not one bit. She’s not nice; she’s completely out of line. I swear to god if she doesn’t shut her mouth, I may just have to give her a piece of my mind. I’ve held my tongue about Numbers man, but if she wants to continue her Bitchfest, I’m gonna tell her exactly how much of a tool bag he really is. I look over to the dance floor and see Breezy dancing by herself. She’s pretending to have good time, but I know her better. She’s upset; whether at herself or me, she’s definitely unhappy right now. I take a swig of my beer bottle, ready to go pick her up off the dance floor and carry her home, when I feel someone put their arms around my shoulder.

  Some blonde bitch saddles up next to me. Her nails curl into my shoulder, and she leans into me.

  “I’m Mitsy.”

  “Max,” I take another drink. “Do you mind? You’re kinda invading my personal bubble.”

  “Oh, I’m going to be doing more than invading your bubble tonight, sexy. I’m gonna straight up pop it.”

  What the fuck? I feel her mouth attach to my neck.

  “Seriously, back the fuck up,” I growl.

  Mitsy holds up her hands and laughs. “You sound like you’re having a bad day. I bet I can make you feel better. How about meeting me outside in twenty minutes?” She asks.

  “Sure, sounds like a plan,” I lie. My eyes shoot over to Breezy who’s now sandwiched between two tall twins. Fuck, now I have to save her. How can I stay mad at her when she’s always in need of saving? One of the twins reaches down and smacks her ass. She pushes him away, but he does it again.