“Actually, I plan to decorate it to the point that you fall in love with it. I’m telling you it will be hard to sell once you put some work in,” she promises.
“Follow me this way,” I instruct.
Just as I had thought. Ruban didn’t know where the fuck he was heading before. Coming to the empty room with its cream-colored walls, large windows overlooking the side of the house, and gray carpet, I give Tia time to get her bearings.
“How do you feel about the flooring?” she questions.
“I’m willing to do whatever you want.”
Shit, that came out a bit too deep, too sensual. Even she turns to raise an eyebrow at me.
“Happy to hear that. Luckily, I won’t demand too much,” she replies.
Is she flirting with me? I fight to keep my eyes on her face and not to let them drop to caress her visible breasts thanks to the low cut of her outfit.
“Um, are we talking about flooring, still?” asks Ryann with a raised hand.
I roll my eyes while closing the space between Tia and I. I can’t stand Ruban hovering around her, but I can’t show my ruthless hand so soon.
“What’s your vision, Hun?” I ask in a soothing tone.
I take note of Ruban’s arched eyebrow. That’s right. Back the fuck up. You think I can’t see what your cock-eyed ass is doing. Not only that, why the fuck he’s even in front of the camera any damn way? He’s the money man, not a part of my team or a fucking adviser. I swear none of these people here want to get a taste of the straight-up motherfucker I am deep inside. Nor is it a face I want the world to see. I refuse to be the no good, downright thug that I’m painted as.
For the next thirty minutes, we look over Tia’s drawings to compare them to the actual space we’re gathered in. I gotta say, she’s talented.
“I know you have these here,” I remark while waving the pictures. “But, now you’re here, you got the vibe of the place, is there anything you would want to change to make it, you know…pop?” I wonder.
“Are you saying my idea isn’t good?”
“Hold up, I’m not stepping on your toes. You’re an artist, and you’re sensitive about your shit. I’m just opening the door for change.”
Tia crosses her arms while taking a turn around the room.
“Like what changes? You obviously want to say something?” she huffs.
I clear my throat. I can feel the pressure of the eyes and the lens on me. Jesus, I don’t want to come off as a fool, but I want to connect with Tia.
“What if you made this an accent wall? Is that what it’s called when you make a wall a bold color to pull the focus?”
“You got it, Boo,” coos Ryann. “What color?”
“Well, the house is Spanish inspired, so…mustered yellow…or a deep red. I would change out the normal white crown molding trim and do a walnut or woodsy kinda thing to make it in place with the house. Maybe even switch out the crystal chandelier for an iron one,” I shrug.
I won’t look at Tia just in case her face is saying, ‘Fool, stick to singing’.
“Hum. Hum,” Tia moans.
Fuck I was off the mark. I’m getting ready to back paddle in hopes of saving face.
“I know I’m the assistant, but-“
“Those changes are really, really good,” replies Tia, finishing Ryann’s comments. “I never thought that your house would be Spanish themed. I did all of that planning off of what I thought you would live in…but you managed to surprise me,” smirks Tia.
“Johnny, you can do the molding, flooring, and changing out the light fixtures,” beams Chana.
“Hey, he made some good suggestions, no need to stretch his abilities,” chuckles Tia.
“Shit, my boy was lead foreman for my Auntie when he lived with her in Canada. She made her money flipping houses. Johnny got skills outside of singing and producing,” explains Yosef.
Ah, that’s the look I was working for. That light of being more than what meets the eye I’m picking up in Tia’s gaze.
“I’m not doing any flooring,” I grumble as I try to downplay the whole interaction, “but I can get the other stuff down as long as the contractor does the rest.”
“Cut!!” Shouts the director.
The older man is practically doing the two-step.
“Okay, okay,” he chimes as he walks from behind the monitor that shows him everything the cameras are trained on. “Wait, wait,” he says as he switches to a different single word while his hands flap in the air. “No bullshit, you really are trained as a contractor, carpenter, or whatever the label is?”
“Yeah, I’ve done it for what, six years while working on my music,” I admit.
“Oh, my freakin’ God,” the man inhales. “The network is going to love this shit. Can you imagine, Johnny fuckin’ Thicke…sweating, tattoos glistening, ass in the air bent overbuilding shit? The fuckin’ ratings, man!” he exclaims.
“You opened your mouth. I hope you can deliver” smirks Tia.
“I can always deliver on what I promise,” I smile with a wink.
The director is watching the two of us. Giving us his back, he whispers to the woman that’s his shadow. I should watch it around these people. Slipping into your normal self is the danger of being on these kinda shows. You can’t be on guard 24/7.
“I don’t think having him working like that on the projects is a good thing,” interjects Ruban.
“Why the hell not?” snaps the director.
“Well, the other celebrities might not get the same amount of TV time as he does. That might piss them off,” answers Ruban.
“Then those camera hog assholes need to start watching fuckin’ Youtube to learn a thing or two. Plus, they were going to have to get their manicured hands dirty any damn way, which is part of the show. He can’t help that he knows what he’s doing. You’re the one that dropped that bag by not checking that box before signing him on for the season. No, we’re going to use this for sure,” says the director.
He’s already fishing out his cell to report to the powers the be at the network while Ruban follows close in hopes of changing the man’s mind.
“Oh hell, ya’ll might get a show off of this…one of those remodeling ones,” whispers Ryann.
“Tia wouldn’t want a show with me,” I tease. “I’m sorry. I’ll be careful not to take too much of the attention,” I promise.
She’s not even listening to me. Instead she’s rubbing her chin in thought as she watches the exchange going on with Ruban and the director. Suddenly she becomes animated.
“No, no, this is good….and Ryann, you might be right. I mean, I know you got your singing thing, but you can’t deny we have a bit of chemistry sparking here,” she comments. “I know how these things work. Yes, this is a good thing,” Tia beams.
I tilt my head while Chana and Yosef look at each other after hearing what she just said.
“You’re gonna use my feelings for you like that,” I tease.
“Oh, feelings?” whispers Yosef.
“Yes, the ones that start below, then travel upward,” Chana whispers back.
“Shit, I bet that down below is something else,” Ryann joins in the whispering.
I toss the three a glare that sends them off to talk about Tia and I, behind our backs.
“But really, that’s cold when you know I want you.”
“It’s called flirting, Johnny,” she says with an eye roll.
“It’s called me being dead serious about fucking you.”
“You know I’m ten years older than you?” she tosses out.
“What you are is seasoned, not dried up,” I correct. “I’ll help you, though.”
“In exchange for opening my legs,” she scoffs.
“You’re going to spread your thighs for me, no matter what, so I suggest you get all you can out of this,” pausing I step closer. “Because I’m going to get every drop from your gushy pussy…every nut, every scream, and every prayer out of you, Tia…and then some.”
CHAPTER SIX
TIA
“Mama! Mama!”
I freeze in the middle of the kitchen. I had hoped to have an hour to myself before Brit came storming my gates. I release a loud sigh, turn, and conjure up a smile on my face just in time for her and my Mom to enter the kitchen. Brit is wide-eyed with excitement while Mom is trying really hard to downplay her desire to hear about my day.
“So, tell me everything,” demands Brittany as she jerks a bar stool out from the side of the island.
“Wow, so no love,” I tease.
“Oh,” she says, jumping to her feet. She scuttles over to me to place a wet kiss and a fake hug on me before going back to her seat. “Okay…so, how was it?”
“The first day of taping was-“
“No, not that. How was being with him…Johnny Thicke,” she interjects.
“He’s all she’s been talking about,” adds Mom with a side-eye.
“You didn’t tell anyone at your school?”
“Come on, Mama,” she sighs with an eye roll. “Of course, I did.”
I bite my bottom lip to keep the stream of curses from erupting from my lips.
“Baby, I told you not to do that. It’s not going to give you the outcome you’re hoping for,” I reply, slowly.
Brit drops her gaze. My heart plunges into my stomach. I know the reason behind why she went to school and told about the show. She saw it as her ticket into the ‘It’ crowd and a remedy for the constant bullying she’s had to endure.
“They laughed and don’t’ believe me now, but once the show airs, that will all change,” she shrugs.
I give Mom a slight shake of my head to stop her from talking. There is no need for her to go into her speeches about toughening up and not caring about what others say or think. At times, Mom really shows her age with being so out of touch with what my ninth grader is going through. It didn’t matter that my nerdy daughter had a very small group of kids she talked comics, Manga, Anime, and K-Pop with. She just wanted to be accepted and the bullying to stop. In her mind, proving herself in the eyes of those bitches and hoes that ran the high school was the way.
Another day of hardship is what I know my baby has endured. Too black, too quiet, too smart, too thick around the middle is what she’s told when all I see is beauty in her flawless skin. I see intelligence in her silence when she’s weighing the words of others. I see whit in her when she comes back with a deep response. In her body, I see sexy curves that I’m sure actually pisses off those same bitchy girls because of the unwanted attention Brit gets from guys’ heated gazes.
I’ve considered moving her to another school when this private one is draining my funds didn’t seem to be working out, but the STEM program that Brittany has wanted to be a part of is only at this location. Of course, this isn’t the only school that offers it. However, you’re talking about her going to a different private school in a different county at double the tuition that I can barely pay now. I just don’t know if her dreams are worth the damage. Although I know that these bumps in her youth are to prepare her for the gut punches that are sure to come in her adult life, I also know that kids aren’t the same either. These girls are bitches, entitled little psychos, while the boys are rapist with high powered lawyers on speed dial.
Wanting to pick her spirits up, I spill the tea.
“Well, the day was awesome,” I beam.
“I can believe that. Is this what Ryann dressed you in?” questions Mom with a critical eye.
“Yes, you like it?” I ask while giving them a full 360.
“Yes. No,” The two say in unison.
“He made you look cheap. He’s always doing too much to prove he’s a woman. You’re there for a contest, not to show all your assets,” scoffs Mom.
“Ma is on TV, not some Youtube video. She needs to be at the top of her game. She can’t hide she’s pretty,” remarks Brit.
“It doesn’t need to be on display, either,” presses Mom.
“I’m not here for the fighting, but Brittany is right. How would I look if I looked thrown away? I’m a reflection of the grade of my business,” I explain.
“Oh, like that fancy car you can barely pay for or the office, and the staged photos you post? Your skills, talent is all you need.”
I grind my teeth at Mom’s comment. She can never just support me fully. She’ll give praise, but then snatches it away a second later by pointing out a flaw.
“And did he make another advancement. Parading around like that, I think you want him to,” frowns Ma as she examines me coldly from wig to painted toes.
“He? Him!” exclaims Brit. “The Johnny Thicke wants to get it on with my Mom? Oh man, you two will start dating and I’ll-“
“Your Mom doesn’t need a man,…and not one like him,” interjects Mom.
“No disrespect, Grandma, but you feel every man isn’t for Ma,” sighs Brit.
“If no disrespect, you need to stay in a child’s place,” sneers Mom.
Silence creeps into the kitchen as Brit clams up. Bullying at school and at home. My baby is never rude. Nor do I want her to fear speaking her mind, respectfully. I love Mom, but like many times before, I second guess her presence in the house. All I did was open the door, asking for her help with Brittany’s school and after school schedule. From there, she became a permanent fixture to the point that she rented out her house and moved in.
“I got to admit, Mr. Thicke really shocked me, today.”
My shift of topic lights up Brittany’s eyes.
“Really?” she sighs dreamingly.
“I got to say, I wasn’t ready. I really should have taken his calls earlier this week to be ready. So, I was there…like a fish out of water with people telling me what to do, not understanding any of it, then he walks over to lead me through it all. It was like a fog lifting,” I praise.
“Jesus Tia, you sure drunk the kool-aid.”
I ignore Mom’s grumble.
“Come to find out, he can do remodeling,” I add.
“What, like changing a light? Or like you see on TV level?” asks Brit.
“From what I heard, today…TV level. He’s going to be showing his skills on the first project,” I answer.
“Hopefully those are all the skills he shows,” grunts Mom.
Working my last nerve, I had to say something.
“Is this how it’s going to be for the next two months? If you have an issue, keep it to yourself. This is an opportunity that I’m not passing up just because you’re riding my back.”
I thank God that He’s chosen my words because I promise you, I didn’t want to be this nice. I want to give my Mom the cussing out she has coming.
“I’m really proud of you, Ma. You never gave up, and here’s your chance,” grins Brit.
“Thank you…and we’re a team, so it’s our chance,” I correct her.
I can see the look in my Mom’s eyes. I’ve seen it before. I know what it stems from even if she will never admit it.
**
“I think we’re going to win the challenge,” I whisper, leaning close to Johnny.
From the stern expression on his face, I feel he doesn’t share my confidence.
“Maybe,” he response out of the corner of his mouth.
“Maybe? Are you watching the screen over there showing the recaps of what everyone was doing? Two teams didn’t even finish, one designer clearly cheated by enlisting more help, the other celebrity was too busy looking good to help, and the last team…I don’t even know what they tried to do, but it came out all wrong. We got this,” I finish with a smile.
Turning my head back to the panel of judges ahead of us, excitement washes over me.
“All true, but one thing you didn’t calculate.”
I glance over and up to look into his face. “What I missed?”
“I fucked one of the judges, and the female hostess hates me because I didn’t fuck her.”
I must have blanked out while I try to und
erstand what he just said.
“Did I hear you rig-“
“You heard me right,” he snarls under his breath. “Fuck,” he hisses. “I knew about Cindy being a hostess, but Sabrina on the panel is new to me.”
I blink, slowly before looking forward, again. I couldn’t pick up on anything, but then again, our footage hasn’t rolled yet. The director was playing it smart by placing us last on the stage to ensure the viewers wouldn’t change channels early.
“Next up…Team Tia and R&B singer, Johnny Thicke.”
My feet won’t move. It takes Johnny placing his hand on my lower back and guiding me to our marker. Is that a nasty smirk I see flashes for a second on Judge Sabrina’s face? I didn’t think nothing of the lustful glances from Hostess Cindy. All the women and gay men did that whenever Johnny was around.
The nervousness I had cast aside was back with a vengeance. I’m too busy trying to analyze every chuckle, every frown, every expression, and seeking a deeper meaning in the tone of voices and questions that I’m at too much of a loss to answer. Thankfully, Johnny is able to answer most of the questions. It takes him elbowing me to get me to respond. My saving grace is that I’m good at what I do, which means I know how to explain it in my sleep.
“Um, I really like your design, but I have to ask…why the wainscot on the ceiling?” inquires Chip, one of the judges.
“I wanted to pull off of Johnny’s suggestions about giving the room an exposed beam look to make it more Spanish in style. Well, re-doing the entire framework is time-consuming and costly. With the wainscot, we laid it as planks, then ran beams going the opposite direction to create the look. Then with painting the right to left beams a light cream, and the spread-out planks going the length of the room a shade of walnut, it gave us the effect we wanted. In doing so, we were able to show people at home another use for the material to get a cost-effective outcome.”
A nod of satisfaction is all I get from Chip.
“Alright contestants, if you will retreat to the waiting area, the judges will make their decision. Once they’re done, one winner will be decided and one team…will be going home,” replies Cindy.
We only make it to the hallway before I swing around on him.
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