Let Me Show You (McClain Brothers Book 3)

by Alexandria House

  “Damn, Bridgette! Do I look like a snitch?” Everett yelled.

  “No! Shit! I just didn’t want anyone to know!” Bridgette said, then her face folded and my fucking heart fell to pieces in my chest.

  “I’m sorry, Bridgette. Ev won’t tell anyone. You know he won’t,” I said.

  She wasn’t crying. I could tell she needed to but was fighting it hard. And it took everything in me not to grab her and hold her and rub her damn hair. But it didn’t feel like the right time for that since she was just almost raped.

  “I ain’t telling shit you don’t want told. You can tell Jo when you’re ready. I don’t need her damn emotions any more fucked up than they already are,” Everett assured her.

  “What about Neil?” she asked softly.

  Neil stepped forward and in a gentle voice, said, “I would never spread your business, sister. I promise you that.”

  “Aye, Neil, man…back that up, okay?” I said.

  “Why?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “Oh, shit! So you actually like her? You giving up the milk now? Shit, I thought you hated black women.”

  I stepped closer to my twin. “I ain’t never said I hate black women, nigga!”

  “You ain’t have to say it!”

  “Neil, just shut the fuck up!”

  “Make me!”

  “Would you two stop this shit?!” Everett thundered. “Y’all the fightingest motherfuckers in the world. The fuck is wrong with y’all?!”

  “He started it. He’s always starting shit!” I yelled, knowing I sounded like a kid, but Neil knew how to get under my skin better than anyone else.

  “Look, if you don’t want this to get out, it won’t get out. Neil ain’t gonna say shit unless he wants to deal with me. A’ight, Bridgette?” Everett said.

  Bridgette nodded, then her eyes rounded the foyer, landing on the little table beside the door. “Is that my purse?”

  I nodded. “And your keys. I had Jesse bring your car from the club, too.”

  She flinched.

  “You okay? Hurting?”

  Shaking her head, she said, “South, can you take me home?”

  I almost started panicking, but kept my cool, and said, “You don’t have to go. You shouldn’t be alone right now, should you?”

  “I’ll be fine. I just…I wanna go home.”

  Everett looked from her to me and back. “Yeah, I got you. Neil can drive your car for you.”

  I wanted to beg her to stay, but I just kept quiet, realizing that it was best to let her go. So instead, I grabbed her shoes from my bedroom and helped her to Everett’s SUV where Chink was sitting behind the wheel.

  “Aye, I’ma call you later so we can figure out what to do about getting another director.”

  I nodded, but I already had that covered. Like I said, I didn’t play about business, always had a contingency plan. I wished I had the same skills and awareness when it came to what I was feeling for Bridgette.

  10

  Filming on Floetic Lustice was suspended for a week as McClain Films—i.e. Nolan And South—searched for another director to replace Lazarus Holmes’ sexual predator ass. Imagine my surprise when I received an email informing me that Nolan would be taking over as director. I’d heard he had a filmmaking degree but was skeptical of his ability to helm this project. Then again, Nolan was a very smart man, a thinker. He wore those qualities for the world to see, so it shouldn’t have surprised me that he was actually good at this job that was new to him—decisive, concise with his direction, clear on his vision for what the film should be. Firm, but kind.

  I can’t lie; I was feeling Nolan McClain, really feeling him now that I knew he was feeling me. He’d kicked Lazarus’ ass and then fired him for me. For me! No man had ever done anything like that before. Not even my father, and he was the one somebody that I knew loved me despite his crippling drug addiction. If he could’ve stayed out of jail, he would’ve protected me from that house of horrors the county took me from.

  But back to Nolan; he even made sure I was okay with being in the club after that debacle with Lazarus Holmes, pulling me to the side and very discreetly asking me if I needed some time off when we first resumed filming. I assured him I was fine. I wasn’t made of paper; otherwise, I would’ve disintegrated long ago. So anyway, Nolan was truly a good guy, he liked me, and I hadn’t seen him with any Russian chicks in a while. He was nice on the eyes, a younger, shorter version of South. He had a great house, a nice car, and he cared about me, but I was too deep in my own shit to do anything about it, to reciprocate what he was offering. The death of my grandmother—an event that should have been a celebratory one for me—had plunged me into a dark place I’d worked hard to stay away from, had undergone years of therapy to cope with, and took a daily dose of Prozac just to function in spite of. But now, all I could do was remember what I’d structured my whole life around forgetting, and that was why I couldn’t fully appreciate the fact that Nolan liked me.

  Now, engrossed in his new duties, he was too busy to mention the whole Lazarus thing or anything else we discussed that day in his house, and that was a relief. As I sat at an empty table in Second Avenue with a chicken salad sandwich and a little plate of pineapple chunks I’d swiped from the craft services table and watched him talk to Nyles Adams, the male lead in the film, I thought about the blessing of this job, how at least while I was on set, I usually didn’t think about my past. I also let myself think about a possible future where my mind was clear and I had something real with Nolan. Wouldn’t that be nice?

  He’d ended his conversation with Nyles and was heading in my direction. My first thought was to leave, because I was just fucking embarrassed about everything, but he provided such a nice view, I stayed put. His walk, so full of confidence. Nolan knew he was handsome and smart and that self-awareness turned me on.

  Damn, he was fine.

  My eyes followed him as he pulled up the chair next to mine at the small, round table, placed his plate before him, and took a bite of his sandwich. When he looked up at me, he gave me a wink and then went in for another bite. In response, I smiled at him and took a bite of my own sandwich. We sat there and ate in silence until break time was over, and it was the nicest meal I’d had in a long time.

  *****

  “Let’s go out tonight,” Sage nearly screamed into the phone. This girl had always had an issue with controlling the volume of her voice, but since I was perpetually on edge because of the current shitty state of my life, the volume seemed amplified.

  So I replied with, “Why are you yelling?”

  “Aw, shit, what’s wrong with you? You don’t start messing with me about how I talk until you’re in a bad mood. Who did it?”

  “I’m not in a bad mood. You’re about to bust my damn ear drums!”

  “Whatever. So are we going out or what?”

  “Sage, I’ve been spending all my time in a club lately, working on this film. I don’t really feel like being in one when I’m off.”

  “Oh, shit! I forgot to ask you how that’s going! You met that fine-ass Nyles Adams, yet? Girl, I don’t even like poetry, but I’d pay top dollar just to sit in the audience and stare at that man! You know I got a thing for men with cornrows.”

  “Yeah, I did a scene with him today. It was a scene where my character threatens him over her BFF. I had to basically threaten to cut his balls off if he hurt her.”

  “Oh, so you’re playing yourself?”

  “I ain’t never done nothing like that!”

  “You offered to do something like that to Sid for Jo.”

  “That was warranted, though.”

  “True. Anyway, sounds good! I can’t wait to hit the red carpet for the premiere. How’s the makeup artist on set?”

  “Good, I guess.”

  “They could’ve hired me. I’d kill to do Honey’s makeup!”

  “Bitch, you were the one who committed to doing the makeup for that off-off-off-off-off Broadway
play. That was your bad!”

  “They could’ve worked around that!”

  “Naw, Nolan ain’t the ‘work around that’ type. He doesn’t play when it comes to schedules and timeliness and stuff like that.”

  “You act like that’s your man or something, like you really know him.”

  I rolled my eyes. “So why are you trying to go out? Trouble with Gavin?”

  “Why does there have to be trouble with him for me to want to go out?”

  “Because I know you.”

  “Well, it’s not Gavin.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “Shit, life.”

  “Is life what had you crying at Jo’s shower?”

  I could hear her sigh. “Yeah…”

  “I feel you. I really do, but girl, I don’t feel like going out to—wait a sec. Let me see who’s calling me.” My stomach dropped when I saw the now-familiar Alabama number on my phone’s screen. My grandmother’s funeral had passed weeks ago. Why the hell was this woman calling me?

  “Who is it? You need to hang up with me?” Sage asked.

  “Uh, nobody. Hey, you know what? I do want to go out tonight, but not to Vault.”

  “Okay. The Launch Pad?”

  “Yeah, or Second Avenue.”

  “Ooooh, Second Avenue! And you know we can get in there free since the bouncer knows we’re Jo’s friends. Let me get ready. You’re gonna pick me up, right?”

  “Yeah, I got you.”

  11

  “So you’re really doing it? You proposed?” I asked, probably sounding just as skeptical as I felt.

  “Yeah! It’s time, man. We’re getting old. Shit, I want at least one son and I ain’t tryna be out at the baseball park in a wheelchair, talking ‘bout, ‘Way to go, Junior!’” Mike replied.

  “Wow.”

  “Wow, what?”

  I shrugged as I looked up at one of my best friends, another guy I’d known since college. “I mean, weren’t you the one who said marriage was nothing but a piece of paper and that it was an unbeneficial trap for men? Plus, you just started seeing this girl a few months ago. Seems like things are moving pretty fast, man.”

  “Damn, man…I said that shit a long time ago!”

  “Last year is a long time ago?”

  “That wasn’t no damn last year.”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  He waved me off. “You tripping, and I’ve known her long enough to know I want to spend the rest of my life with her. If you held on to a woman for longer than a week, you would understand what I’m talking about.”

  I already do. “If you say so.”

  “Man—”

  What I knew to be Jesse’s signature knock cut Mike off. “Yeah!” I shouted through the door, even though he probably couldn’t hear me over the music that was absent in my sound-proof office.

  A second or two later, he opened the door and peeked his head inside. “Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to let you know I put Jo’s friends in VIP.”

  I frowned. “Who?”

  “Your sister-in-law’s friends. You know, the one who’s in the movie and the short one.”

  Bridgette is here?

  Before I knew it, I was on my feet and heading out the door, having forgotten Mike was in my office or that we were in the middle of a conversation. And when he shouted, “I guess I’ll catch you later. Don’t forget about the party,” I just yelled back, “Yeah!”

  I took the staff elevator up to VIP, because it would’ve taken too long to wade through the crowd and I needed to get up there ASAP, because…shit, I don’t know. To make sure there were no dudes with them, like I could do shit about it if there were? Hell, she wasn’t my woman, and since I kicked a man’s whole ass over her like she was my woman, she most likely would never want me in that way.

  But I still wanted the shit out of her.

  I almost passed her, thinking Jesse had put them in the room, not one of the roped-off areas, but there they sat on one of the couches, drinks in hand, laughing at something. From that angle, I had a perfect view of her—long legs exposed in a short skirt, high heels on, perfection. Taking a deep breath and willing myself not to act dumb in front of her as I usually did, I approached them, and said, “Here all day and still not sick of this place?”

  My eyes shot up to him, taking him in from head to toe. He looked nice and put-together, as usual, in black or maybe navy-blue slacks and a blue and white striped shirt with a white collar and cuffs. He was smiling down at us, and I couldn’t help but to smile back.

  “Hey, Nolan!” Sage chirped in that enthusiastic way that belonged strictly to her.

  “Hey, Sage, Bridgette.”

  “Hi,” I said, feeling something bubbling up inside of me that I couldn’t quite name. Excitement? Or relief, like maybe I’d suggested we come here on the off-chance that I’d run into this man? But I didn’t do stuff like that…did I?

  “Join us!” Sage suggested, and Nolan’s eyes shifted from her to me, as if silently seeking my approval. I quickly gave it to him by way of a tiny nod.

  He sat on the sofa across from ours, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees, his eyes never leaving me. “So, are you ladies enjoying your night here so far?”

  “Oh, yeah! We always have a good time here! Y’all always take good care of us!” Sage said.

  With my eyes glued to Nolan, I agreed, “Yeah, you really do.” I hoped he got the full meaning of my words.

  “Good to know,” Nolan said, with a smile.

  “Oh, this is my song!” Sage yelled, springing to her feet. “I’ma go hit the floor. You coming?”

  Without looking up at her, I shook my head. “No, you go ahead.”

  After she left, Nolan and I kind of just sat there staring at each other until he said, “You look nice.”

  “Thank you. So do you. But then again, you always do.”

  “Really?” he said, with a huge grin brightening his face. “Thank you. I haven’t ever seen you slacking, either.”

  “Well, thanks again.”

  More silence, then Nolan said, “Bridgette, do you mind dancing with me?”

  “Do I mind? Not at all.”

  Nolan stood and reached for my hand, licking his lips when I got to my feet in front of him. “Yeah, you definitely look nice.”

  Why did that make me feel all giddy inside?

  With my hand in his, I followed him through VIP, down the stairs, and to the dancefloor in time to catch the end of Sage’s song—The Internet’s Dontcha. I was bummed we’d missed the song, because I liked the beat and was prepared to gently back it up on Nolan. Then Boo’d Up began to play and the whole damn crowd started singing along with it.

  Nolan grinned at me. “Man, this is my song right here!”

  “Sounds like it’s everybody’s song!” I replied.

  We both laughed and he released my hand, opening his arms to me. “Shall we?”

  Stepping into his embrace, I swear I heard him breathe a satisfying sigh as I wrapped my arms around the solid body that was hidden under his clothes and he rested his hands on my back, holding me close. We swayed to the song, chest to chest. Well, I was actually a little taller than him in my heels, but it still felt nice to be in his strong arms, to feel him holding me, to be enveloped by the warmth of his body.

  “You feel nice, too,” he whispered in my ear, the vibrations of his baritone voice traveling all the way to my core and making me feel nervous as hell.

  “S-so do you.” Yeah, being in his arms was messing with me, had me stuttering and shit.

  We danced through the entire song, and by the time it got to that little spoken part Ella Mai does at the end, my yoni had transformed into a flowing river of estrogen and I knew without a doubt that if Nolan McClain asked for some, I would’ve bent over right there on that dancefloor and thrown it back for him.

  As The Carters’ Ape Shit began to fill the club—a horrible segue on the part of the DJ—Nolan released me, looked me in the eye, a
nd was only able to say, “Bridgette,” when someone, a member of the club’s staff, tapped him on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear.

  Giving me a regretful look, he said, “I’ve got to take care of this. I’ll catch you later?”

  I nodded and watched him leave the dancefloor, standing there through half the song before hitting the bar and rejoining Sage in VIP. I didn’t see Nolan again that night.

  12

  We were filming in Nolan’s home, which through un-drugged eyes, proved to be a literal showcase of luxury, a beautiful house in a masculine-without-being-dark-and-heavy way. Wood floors, huge windows, filled with shades of tan and blue. I loved it!

  The scene was of a house party located at a fictional Hollywood bigwig’s home where Jazz and Brother—Nyles Adams’ character—would bump into each other. Jazz was to serve as the party’s DJ, and as her BFF, I was there for moral support. I only had a couple of lines but had delivered them with my signature attitude and finesse and was now observing Honey and Nyles in action. When I first heard Honey was playing the lead, I rolled my eyes, figuring this was yet another colorist casting, but she actually had acting chops and was a super sweet person. I watched them banter back and forth, and then the smooth as silk Brother went in for a kiss and my heart melted like I didn’t know they were acting. Cutting my eyes to the left, I noticed Trevia Adams, Nyles’ wife and our costume designer, observing the scene, too, with a crazy look in her eyes. I’d heard she didn’t play about her man and hoped Honey was safe. But she’d been cool thus far, and her clothing design skills were ridiculous! I was tempted to steal the outfits she’d been dressing me in.

  Nolan yelled, “Cut!” and the crew broke out in applause, including me, because that scene was excellent! I truly believed that with the right promo and distribution, we had a hit on our hands.