I'll Be Good to You

by Christine Gray

Being a pro at her job, she fits me with a tiny mic. “Testing, testing,” she speaks into the hidden object while looking over to the side. A man with headphones gives her the thumbs up.

  “So, why have the big ones over head?” I wonder.

  “Because these catch all the whispers that those don’t, so be mindful of the fact that someone is always watching and listening,” she warns.

  “Thank you,” I smile.

  “Alright, places. Guys, have a seat,” says Ruban with a wave of his hand.

  I stroll over to the table. The others all plop down, which left me the empty seat next to Johnny.

  “Just focus on the important people,” he whispers in my ear while making a circle of all of us at the table. “Let all of them fade into the background.”

  Licking my lips, I smile.

  “You look fine as hell. You’re sexy, too. Don’t worry about that. This is just another meeting with your client,” he remarks before pulling away.

  Funny thing about reality TV is that it’s the furthest thing from being real. Behind the scenes, the people are given cues, then left alone to improvise.

  “Okay, so you all are meeting in the private area to introduce the members of the team to each other. Drinks will be brought in, and you will talk about the property, your vision, blah, blah, blah. Nothing too heavy, okay?”

  “Yeah.” “Okay.” “Got it,” rings out from the table in response to Ruban.

  With nothing left to be said, it’s go time.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JOHNNY

  Here I am coaching Tia when my mind is elsewhere.

  “Lighting check.”

  Ruban gives me a few minutes to get over being so close to Tia. When I say she’s looking like a snack, I mean that shit. I can’t keep my eyes from dropping to her breasts to eye the deep cleavage in her pants outfit. Her slightest move rewards me with enough side boob to cause a distraction.

  “Right, this is it. One…two…and action.”

  Well, damn. That’s all we get. No lead-in, nothing.

  “Thank you for coming in, guys,” I start. “I think you all know me.”

  “Yeah, I think so,” laughs Chana.

  “I didn’t mean to brag,” I frown.

  “No, of course not,” my sister teases.

  “Anyway, I’m kinda out of my depth here,” I admit, sheepishly. “Standing behind a mic is easy, but this here is all new to me…and decorating,” I trail off into a mumble. “Why couldn’t you have signed me up for a cooking show?”

  “Oh, you would have lost that one on the first round,” jokes Yosef.

  “Fuc-“

  “Family show,” interjects Tia.

  I give Yosef a stare before going on. “Everyone, our ace in the hole, Tia Jefferies.”

  “Hi,” she smiles. “This is my assistant, Ryann.”

  “My sister and manager, Channa, and I’m sure you know, Jay-Roc,” I introduce. “This is the reason why Tia is here.”

  Leaning to my side, I produce a portfolio.

  “I think you have what it takes to bring home the crown and earn me the title,” I smile at her while laying the book on the table for Chana and Jay-Roc to take a peek.

  I can see the surprise on Tia's face. If she had spoken to me before today, she would have been prepared, and I wouldn’t have had to print shit off IG to make the book. No matter what, I’m going to make sure this show is the start of great things in her life.

  “Well, we have competition, so I won’t get too big-headed,” she warns. “So, can you show me? Tell Ryann and I about your estate.”

  She’s doing great not acknowledging all the equipment and lights around us.

  “Yeah, Chana took pictures of the inside of the house.” On cue, she presents them. “The place is over 10,400 square feet and built in the Pueblo Style.”

  “Wow, nice, oh, I like this room,” remarks Tia as she passes the pictures to Ryann to examine. “I can do a lot with this,” she promises.

  “Well, what’s your ideas for the first challenge?” I ask.

  We were already given what it was to be. The scene of us getting the information, along with Tia and Ryann’s brainstorming session will be edited into the show, later.

  “Okay,” Tia announces as she taps Ryann to bring out the drawings.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see movement in the doorway to our private area. None of us glance up because we’re so focused on Tia.

  “Since the challenge is to showcase my strengths, I was thinking-“

  “What the fuck is this shit?”

  I still don’t look up. If I had heat vision, the drawing Tia had created would be up in flames.

  “I thought those were our drinks,” whispers Ryann.

  “Johnny, Johnny,” grunts Chana.

  “Who told him we were here?” I growl with my head down.

  “Look, that’s your homeboy, not mine,” snarls Yosef.

  “I guess I’ll get my own chair, then,” comes the voice.

  Tia grips my arm, “Who is this?” she hisses.

  “A constant hemorrhoid,” I grumble.

  Rubbing the bridge of my nose, me counting to five does nothing for my mounting temper. The cameras are rolling, and this is just the bullshit they want to catch on film. I can already mentally hear the awful music shows like this mix into scenes like this to add to the tension.

  “I’m ready for my close up.”

  I lift my head, slowly to glare at Rafael. As if his loud mouth wasn’t enough, he had to make sure he stood out even more. His 6 diamond chains, rings on every finger on his right hand, and with a bright, blinding yellow shirt that looked as if he was filling in for a deacon in a black church finishes his clown getup.

  “I’ll overlook the mistake of not including me at this meeting, but now that I’m here, we can really get started,” declares Rafael.

  He reaches across the table to grab the end of Tia’s sheet. Her hand moves like quicksilver to plaster the paper down to the table.

  “Who are you supposed to be?” She frowns.

  Rafael returns her look with a scowl of his own. “I’m Johnny’s right hand. You need to check your attitude,” he warns.

  With a tug, he snatches the paper away. His face transforms into an expression of disgust.

  “What the hell is this? I know this isn’t what you’re bringing to the team because this ain’t it at all. How the hell you even got in the door,” he remarks, rudely. To stress his point, he crumbles the paper and tosses it onto the table.

  The whole exchange takes only three minutes, but it seems like a lifetime. I open my mouth only for the voice speaking to sound like Tia.

  “Motherfucker, if you don’t-“

  My hand shoots out to drag her back into her seat.

  “You rat-faced, pus-“

  “Ryann, sit down. Hold up,” demands Yosef while he leans across the table to restrain Ryann from leaping at Rafael.

  My chair falls back to bounce on the floor with the speed I get to my feet.

  “You need to leave.”

  Finally, I get Rafael’s attention.

  “Did I hear you right? You telling me to leave?” he questions in disbelief, not moving a muscle.

  “Get up, now,” I fume while rounding the table to his side.

  “I’ll kick his fucking ass,” promises Tia. “Who the fuck is he? Was this planned?”

  “Gurl, you know every show need a Tamar Braxton,” grumbles Ryann.

  “I didn’t sign on to be railroaded. I won’t be played like this,” shouts Tia.

  Standing up, she begins to snatch at her mic.

  “Sit your ass down,” I growl.

  “Oh, now you think to-“

  “Sit your ass down,” I command with an open palm to her chest. Snapping my head to Rafael, “Get the fuck up, fucker.”

  I don’t let him decide. I march over, haul him to his feet, and drag him towards the entrance of the room.

  “Hold up! So, you gon
na treat me like this?”

  I let him jerk his arm from my grasp.

  “You need to go, okay.”

  I’m trying to control the volume of my voice while I’m still mic up. Dumb huh? I’m not thinking clearly at the moment. All I’m doing is trying to keep from smashing Rafael in the face.

  “Wow, it’s gonna be like that?” he tosses back.

  “It’s gonna be you choking on your teeth once I punch you in the face if you don’t shut up and leave,” I warn.

  “But why they get to stay? Why Jay gets to be in all of this and not me?”

  I grind my teeth. A fucking baby. A bratty ass kid is what he sounds like.

  “He won’t be on the show the whole time,” I say.

  “But he’s getting camera time, and not me. That ain’t fair. I’m your boy. I should be at that table….and that designer? I would have picked one better. You won’t win with her,” he spats.

  “Listen, I’m trying to help you save face, man. Get the fuck gone, because I’m getting tired of telling you to step the fuck off.”

  I don’t yell or even growl, but the way I’m glaring and the tension in my body lets him know I’m about to raise my fists.

  “Fuck you. Fuck all ya’ll!” he yells. “You wanna cut me out, alright, but just know…you fuckin’ need me. That bitch in there don’t know shit. When you come back to me, I’m charging you double.”

  I take a step in his direction, which causes him to stumble back, catch his footing, then make it for the main door. Taking a moment, I lower my head to rub my face. Never in a million years did I want shit to go down like this.

  “That’s not your fault.”

  I peek through my fingers to find Richey big self standing by me. Always on the job, he was no doubt lurking nearby to pull me off of Rafael if I couldn’t stop kicking his ass.

  “That was a string that should’ve been cut a long time ago,” he goes on.

  Pointing to the tiny mic, I roll my eyes.

  “Hey, you tried to be nice,” he shrugs.

  “I know,” I mumble. Shaking it off, “Where’s our drinks?” I shout before going back to the room. “I’m sorry for that,” I remark.

  I’m greeted with chaos.

  “Cut! Cut!” shouts the director.

  Not following my orders, Tia leaps to her feet. “Get this off. I want this off’.”

  Stage hands surround Tia in hopes of stopping her from destroying network property in her frenzy to remove the equipment. I stroll over to Yosef and Ruban.

  “It was bad, huh?” I whisper.

  “Yeah, but great footage,” beams Ruban

  “You set that up,” accuses Yosef.

  Ruban tosses up his hands. “How could I? Rafael doesn’t even give me the time of day. The man’s not in my contact list.”

  “No, I know it wasn’t you,” I ensure them both.

  Ruban maneuvers to put his back to Tia and the others. “You got to get her back on board.”

  Without responding, I head for the storm.

  “I warned you that there would be drama, and you said you would be fine,” Chana reminds her.

  “Yeah, within the competition. It’s a contest, but who… what the fuck was that” points Tia.

  “That was a so-call friend of mine. He has nothing to do with the show,” I explain.

  “Then why was he here?”

  Invading her personal space, I grip her by the arm. “You need to calm the hell down,” I snarl into her face.

  All of this drama is getting to me. I get she was thrown for a loop, but she’s doing way too much. Not caring about the eyes on us, I drag her into a side room. Slamming the door, I turn around to glare at her.

  “Get your fuckin’ shit together,” I demand. “All he did was trash your designs. He didn’t call your mama a hoe. Are you playing up to the cameras?” I wonder.

  “What? No, no, I…”

  She trails off. She takes a breath. “I thought you were setting me up. You and the network, that this is all a ploy to make me look like a clown.”

  Slowly, I press my back to the wall. I meet her searching gaze head-on.

  “I am setting you up, Tia, but not for that reason. I don’t like when people try to pull my strings, so I don’t do it to others. Well, most of the times I don’t, but this isn’t one of them,” I correct. “Listen, Rafael, the guy, we have a long history, and he can’t see the writing on the wall. All you need to understand is this wasn’t me. I’m not saying that the network won’t play games for ratings. This here was a freebie, but it’s something that I don’t tend to continue to freely hand over to them. This,” I twirl my finger in the air, “is all new to me, too. I’ve never done anything like this. Now,” I say while pushing off the door to approach her. “I’m going to lay it out for you. I have millions. I’m not saying that to be a jerk, but to help you refocus. You need this. Are you going to let some knock-kneed motherfucker fuck up your chances?”

  Tia inhales, then exhales. “No. No, I am not,” she replies firmly.

  “Good. Save all that anger for later when I start to get under your skin,” I wink.

  “Oh, I have no problems putting you in your place,” she smirks when she comes to a stop in front of the door.

  My hand hovers over the doorknob. I shouldn’t have, but knowing we were alone in the room was all the excuse I needed. My free hand moves to rub her plump ass. “My favorite place is from behind. You can put me there anytime,” I moan.

  As quick as I made my move, I swing the door open to leave her to her reaction to my brazen come on. Tia hasn’t seen nothing yet.

  **

  TIA

  I’m motionless and stun. The only thing that’s still acting as it should is the millions of butterflies in my stomach beating me to death, and the sharp tingling concentrated in my pussy. Suddenly, Ryann his at the doorway to stick his head in the room.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I ask.

  He takes another sniff of the air. “Trying to catch that fishy smell. He ain’t get his fingers wet?”

  I blink. “Boy, get the hell out of the way,” I snap as I shove him to the side.

  “Oh, come on, Boo. You wouldn’t let him fuck you with those long, strong, tattooed fingers?” he finishes in a deep moan as he fakes a shiver.

  My heated glare is both a warning and my answer.

  “Go on and be the dumb bitch,” he grumbles. Rolling his eyes, he shuts up.

  “Are you able to continue?”

  Smile in place, I nod my head at Ruban.

  “Wonderful, um,” he says louder. “The van is outside. We’re heading to the property. The designs you were going to show at the table have been printed out. So, we’ll make it so you will show your ideas for the room in the actual room, at the house instead of here, in the restaurant.” He pauses to drop his voice to a whisper. “I’m really sorry about that, but in this kind of work, many people are rude, crazy, and cutthroat, but we…Chana, Yosef, Richey, Johnny we’re not like that.”

  “Thank you,” I smile.

  Tapping him on the arm, Ruban gives me a beaming grin. He might look like an average guy in the midst of male runway hunks, but his inward glow gives him an odd sexiness that I’m sure many pretty girls tend to overlook.

  **

  The drive over to the house was a short one filled with cracking jokes. No matter how much I try to keep my professional mask on, I’m always pulled into the stupidness. I might only know Yosef and Ryann, but there is a weird ease that develops quickly between me and the rest. A man with a small handheld camera captures it all. Whenever I get lost in the weeds, Ruban offers to explain the reason behind the low jabs being thrown that makes everyone laugh.

  Every now and then, I allow my gaze to wonder over to Johnny only to find him staring openly at me. I mean, he isn’t even trying to hide it from the others or the camera.

  “Wow,” I breathe as I crane my head back to take in the massive home looming in front of me.

&
nbsp; Taking a turn, I look out among the manicured grounds as the others step out of the van.

  “That’s what I’m saying, but stupid wants to sell it,” grumbles Chana.

  “I know I shouldn’t say it, but the taxes on this house is way too much.”

  “Get rid of that ugly house an hour from here and bam,” suggests Chana.

  “How many houses do you have?” I ask.

  “Four.”

  “Six,” Chana corrects in a yell from inside the house.

  “I know it’s called reality TV, but you don’t have to put it all out there, Chana,” he teases.

  Johnny places his lower hand on my back to encourage me to walk forward. Why am I dragging my feet? It can’t be because I want to walk slow enough to not break the contact.

  “Tia.”

  I turn to find Ruban at my other side.

  “I want to show you the room,” he says.

  “Okay,” I reply.

  Not Johnny’s hand but Ruban’s now guides me into the house. My body doesn’t respond with the same intense jolt. Instead of heat, I experience a soothing feeling that calms me.

  **

  JOHNNY

  My gaze narrows on where Ruban’s hand is resting on Tia. I don’t give two shits that I was just doing the same fuckin’ thing. The sight of seeing his pale arm covered in black hair makes it very hard not to become enraged. Normally, I would find it funny that he was trying to shoot his shot. Normally, if he managed to make a mark, I would shrug it off. In this town and tax bracket, there’s always pussy in the sea. No need to have a falling out over trivial bullshit.

  “It’s the quiet ones,” comments Yosef.

  I stare at Ryann and Yosef daring them to say something else.

  “Oh, chile,” chuckles Ryann as he twists his ass up the steps.

  “I’m just wondering how he’s giving a tour of my home, that’s all.”

  The lie stabs me in the throat coming up but passes smoothly through my gums.

  “Hum,” smirks Yosef.

  Inside the house has been cleaned. Nothing but open space, I’ve never got around to decorating it.

  “Welcome to one of my houses,” I call out, teasing Chana. “I’ve made no major changes. Hopefully, you’ll help me put a personal stamp on it to drive up the selling price,” I explain.