I'll Be Good to You

by Christine Gray

  “So, every time was an accident,” I mumble as I nod my head. “And those, the screens are hooked up to the cameras throughout the campus. Did you follow up to see if the girls were lying…or did you just take their words?”

  Oh, I got you son of a bitch.

  “Let me motivate you to get off your asses,” I state ready to bring this to a close. With a crook of my finger, Cohen produces the paper I had him draw up. “I’ll leave this here,” I say, placing the stapled papers on Larry’s desk. “Please explain,” I order my attorney.

  “Ms. Brittany is now under my services, thanks to Mr. Thicke. In the document, you will find a list of demands being requested on my client’s behalf. Bullying is a serious offense that has led to suicides, mass shootings, and other preventable tragedies. We are sure that you wouldn’t want to taint this school’s reputation…nor would neither of you fine educators want civil suits brought against you due to lack of action.”

  See, that’s why I like Cohen. He has a way of threatening a person in such a refine and sophisticated way.

  “I’ll say it a little louder for the people in the back,” I remark, getting to my feet. “IF Brittany has any more drama and nothing is done to nip it in the bud, I’m going to use all my pull to fuck this school up. I don’t care who those uppity little shits parents are, you better pump the brakes on what’s been going on before I bring every goddamn thing crashing down.”

  Going to the door, I open it but stop short of leaving the room.

  “Donuts are in the break room. Have a good day.”

  **

  TIA

  Well, last night was an eventful one full of me trying to keep Mom out of my business. I made sure to hit the mall to give Brit and I the opportunity to talk freely without ears listening around the corner or through the doors. Even still, she wanted to know what happened after I picked Brit up after she pretended to be busy. Fuck that shit. Brit felt the same way. Although, I’m sure she continued her prying on her drive to drop Brit off to school, today, but I know my baby was tight-lipped about it all. No doubt that will earn us a few days of Mom giving us her ass to kiss. Whatever.

  Half of me wants to call off today’s work, while the other half is secretly excited to be seeing Johnny later. I just pray he doesn’t give me pity. I can’t take being treated with kid gloves like I’m weak or something. I’m not. In spite of everything, I’ve done really well for myself. I’m determined. I’m strong.

  I’m prepared for the shift, the change in our friendship. Yes, that’s all that we’ve ever been, friends…and I use that word loosely. Co-worker is a better term. He’s someone you see on a daily bases that you are civil too but can care less to know what’s going on with them. Then once the day ends, you clock out to leave without a second thought of that person. I look at myself in the full-length mirror in my room. I recite all the warnings about Johnny. I remind myself that this is my big break. I tell myself that if there is a problem, the problem is with him, not me. I promise myself to stick to the plan and don’t let personal longings get in the way. Shit, his dick isn’t the only one. Turning to the side, I admire my profile. I’m still a knockout. Yes, I know I can get sex if the mood hits me.

  Tossing the locs of my wig over my shoulder, I give my reflection a kiss. Hearing my cell ring, I already know who’s calling.

  “I’m on the way, Ryann.”

  “Gurl, the office can burn down for all I care. Have you been on IG this morning?”

  With a frown, I open the app. After strolling the feed, I give up.

  “Why? Who died?” I wonder as I turn off the light in my room to start walking down the hallway to get out of here.

  “Shit,” he hisses. “Are you friends with The Shaderoom?”

  “Who?”

  “Balleralert? Damn woman,” he snaps.

  “Calm down, I’ll search for Shaderoom.”

  “Hurry up…The…then Shaderoom is all one word. You got it?”

  “Yes, I have…”

  “Hello! Hello! Don’t tell me this girl just hung up on me. HELLO!!”

  “That’s me…and-“

  “Yass, kitty!” he screams in my ear.

  I’m too shell shocked to even notice.

  “How is this…what they are saying isn’t true,” I insist.

  “Baby, you keep telling yourself that, but a picture is a thousand words. Look at you…all glowing for the camera. Oh, and that look of lust in his eyes. How was it being held close to all that sex and man? Your fish got all wet and shit, didn’t it?”

  “Shut up,” I snarl. “I told Brit not to post that picture,” I complain.

  “Wow, you trying to keep the good news from me, I see,” he grumbles.

  “There is nothing to keep,” I hiss. “It’s just a silly picture. He and I aren’t together.”

  “Well, the World thinks so, and that’s all that matters, hun.”

  “Fuck,” I cry. “I have to disconnect my IG.”

  “Why?”

  “You really think I want to be dragged.”

  “Dragged? Honey, these people are all for it. Read the comments. ‘Oh, Johnny likes his women seasoned.’ ‘She fine ass fuck.’ ‘Shit, I’ll tap that.’ ‘That’s why he be coming up with all those lyrics.’ ‘I bet she be helping him hit those high notes.’ ‘Just proves he’s one of us.’ He reads off.

  “Seasoned?” I mumble.

  “Tia, are stuck on stupid, or you just don’t want to hear what I’m saying? You got a few haters, but overall, it’s nothing but love. Shit, Johnny had already been picked up by us in the race draft. Now, he’s just got a lifetime pass to all the cookouts. I say, let it play out. You don’t have to come out the gate swinging to stump out a flicker that could become a flame if you’ll get the hell out of the way. But I’ll mind my own business. See you in a few.”

  He hangs up before I can even respond to his mouth full still ringing in my ear. One thing is for sure, I see the difference the second I walk out the door. Hell, how could I not when there are reporters camped out in the street before my brownstone condo. A stream of questions, shouts for me to stop to allow them to get a good picture causes me to act like a deer caught in headlights.

  “Come on.”

  A hand arrests me by the arm to forcibly drag me down the stairs to the sidewalk. Out of normal reaction, I try but fail to get free.

  “Stop.”

  This time, his face is close enough to mine for it to register who it is.

  “Richey,” I sigh in relief.

  “Yeah, Johnny knew it was going to be like this.”

  “Hold up,” I jerk back. “My car is over there,” I say as I point down the lane.

  Being the pro that he is, Richey keeps us moving while pushing back all the people that want to get a piece of me.

  “We’re taking this,” he informs me.

  Just as I was about to protest, the back door of the blackout limo opens and out steps Johnny. Instantly, the focus is off me as the reporters make a beeline to him. I marvel at the fact that he seems completely unfazed by the lens, mics, and the crush of bodies all fighting for a picture or a comment.

  “Move back,” he demands as he stretches out his hand for me.

  A shove in the back from Richey gets me in arm’s length for him to tug me towards the open door.

  “I have my own car.”

  “Do you want one of these dip shits to cause you to flip your car all for a damn picture.”

  I close my mouth while the images of Princess Diana come to my mind. I want to refuse, but I want to live. Knowing he has won; he steps to the side for me to slip inside with him following.

  “You need to do something about this-“

  He places a finger in my face to signal for me to shut up. It’s then that I notice the cell in his hand.

  “I’m listening,” he speaks into the receiver.

  I have no clue what’s being said, but it must be some heavy shit from the dark expression that settles on his face.
I’ve gotten under Johnny’s skin, but I never want to piss him off to this degree I’m seeing for the first time.

  “Don’t open the fucking door,” he growls before he hangs up. “Go to the studio,” is all he says.

  I watch his side profile for a few minutes while I debate breaking the silence to complain. Then again, I’m not wanting a piece of the ass-kicking that he’s barely containing. Nah, I’ll just pick this battle for a better time.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JOHNNY

  I clench my hand into a fist. I make sure it’s the hand by the door to hide what I’m doing. Richey knows the signs. I want to punch, break bones, and this limo isn’t moving fast enough to get me there. Son of a bitch! Then again, I consider as I tilt my head, this could be what I need. By the time we roll up, there is a crowd. Of course, there would be one. The motherfucker couldn’t shit without having someone present to watch him wipe.

  “Is it alright to talk?”

  “Are you gonna be a bitch? Yes. Then no, don’t talk,” I reply in a rush.

  The driver meets Tia’s reflection in the rearview mirror to warn her to take my advice. All morning long, I’ve been imagining how it was going to be when I saw Tia since the picture of the three of us hit the internet, only for my excitement to be snatched by this bullshit. I glare through the tinted window at the scene, going on a few yards away. Waiting doesn’t help me calm down. The raised voices serve to cause me to get even angrier.

  Slowly, I shake out of my suit jacket. Next, I roll up my sleeves and loosen my tie. I open the door, get out, and all eyes are on me.

  “Johnny!” a shout rings out. “All your asses are going to get the boot, now.”

  “Rafael, Whatcha doing here?” I ask. I slide my hands into my pants to keep from pimp slapping him.

  “What you mean? I always come by the studio. Why you acting funny?”

  I suck my bottom lip into my mouth.

  “I told you a while back the studio isn’t a hang out for your groupies. Are any of ya’ll signed? Are you or you coming to record a track?” I question as I look the lazy fucks standing around Rafael in the eyes. “They aren’t here to work. God knows you aren’t here to work, so why the fuck you trying to get in?” I stress.

  Rafael takes a step closer and drops his voice. “Why, why you making me look bad? You changed the codes on the door and told the girls not to let me in…what the fuck?”

  “What the fuck is you’re messing with my goddamn money,” I growl, not whispering. “You post up with your fuck boys, and the artists don’t want that shit. They pay damn good for the hour. This ain’t a goddamn VIP at the club. You got a house. You need to stop coming and trying to take over my shit,” I fume.

  “Your shit!?” Rafael spats as he cranes his head back to examine me from head to toe. “When did this happen, huh!? When you started taking ownership!?”

  “Nig,” I exhale slowly as I force my fist to un-ball. “When was it never mine? What the hell have you brought to the table other than a bill? Get the fuck out of here,” I order with a wave of my hand.

  His broke down crew exchange looks as if they are trying to determine if I’m serious. My security knows I am. They move from their spot to start moving in.

  “You don’t want no smoke blowing, Johnny. You know I know people,” threatens Rafael.

  I swear his beat down is long coming. I mug the motherfucker in the face, which causes him to stumble back. Shock is clear on his face, then it switches to anger. I smirk. I want his froggy ass to leap. I wave one of the guards back. There won’t be no trash talking later that if someone hadn’t jumped in, he would have kicked my ass.

  Oh yeah, he gotta throw hands now. I give him the first punch, but not another. I’m no worried. He and I have been here in the past. Nothing has changed to make the outcome different. My fists smash into his face with no mercy. In seconds, I have him on the asphalt. It’s been years since I’ve gotten down like this, but the body knows.

  “Johnny! Johnny! Is somebody going to stop this!?”

  Tia’s screams didn’t stop my attack. The sound of a clip being pulled damn sure did. I freeze with my fist hovering over Rafael’s bruised and bloody face. A hand grabs him from under his arms to haul him from under me and onto his feet. Slowly, I straighten up. The sight is nothing new. I’m not even fazed at seeing guns pulled. Actually, it smacks of old times. Yet, there is visible fear on Rafael’s face.

  “So, this is how you rolling now?” I fume. “You playing in the wrong back yard, buddy. Sooner or later, these bulldogs are going to turn on you.”

  “Motherfucker, fuck you!” he yells.

  No doubt having some metal backing him has made him brave. I watch his eyes pan to the side. Instantly, a deep, nasty frown twists his face.

  “It’s always about pussy,” he spits. “I hope she fucks better than she looks. I’ll just have to take a ride and see for myself.”

  In a flash, my hand snatches the gun from one of my men. Without hesitation, I level it at Rafael’s forehead.

  “You’re trespassing,” I snarl.

  He narrows his eye on the barrel, glances at me, then they shift on last time towards Tia before he chuckles and backs away. I follow him and his weak army of wannabes pile into the car that I fucking bought for him to speed away.

  “Move the studio to the warehouse and triple the security,” I order as I hand the gun back over. “Let’s go.”

  I’m in no mood for Tia to put up a fight. My fingers press into her arm as I grab her to speed walk her back to the limo.

  “Next time something jumps off, you stay out of the goddamn way,” I snap once I’m in the backseat next to her. “What the hell you getting out of the car for? We’re you going to fight?”

  “I’m not fighting a man, woman, or child over your ass….and there won’t be a next time,” she promises, hotly.

  “None of that was my fault. You can’t blame me for that shit.”

  “Toad the Wet Sprocket could be the blame for all I care. It doesn’t matter. You can play at being a homeboy, thug, or whatever boys trying to be men games you want.”

  “You need to stop having a conversation with yourself about me when I’m not in the room,” I suggest.

  “Take me to my car,” she demands. “If it isn’t reality show related, I don’t want nothing to do with it or you. Oh, and you need to Twitter, post, send up a goddamn smoke signal saying we aren’t fucking or dating, too.”

  I pin her with an angry gaze that she’s fighting really hard not to crumble under. Suddenly, I push the button to raise the soundproof partition.

  “W-why you doing that?” she asks as she attempts to push my hand off the button.

  “I’m doing it, so they don’t have to hear me when I curse your silly ass out,” I hiss. Leaning over into her face, “I’m sick of you thinking you know me. I’m tired of trying to prove to your cock-eyed ass I’m not the jit you say I am.”

  “You son of a bi-“

  “I’ll give you that assessment because you are so right about my old lady.”

  Tia blinks, not knowing what to say for a moment.

  “You aren’t going to the press?” she pants as her frustration elevates.

  “I’ve never responded to anything they have said about me before,” I shrug. “Something wrong with your eyes, because you looking at me like you wanna do something.”

  “You’re a nasty asshole,” she snarls.

  I roll my eyes. “I’m also not making a statement because you’re going to give me a shot. Oh, there goes the eyes, again. I have a doctor that can fix that.”

  “You’ve been smelling your own musk again, huh?”

  No warning. No asking for permission or setting the stage. My hand captures Tia by the neck and jaw to give it a squeeze. I swear that’s all I intended to do to release some of my frustration. So, why are my lips on her? Why am I pressing her back against the door while I lean into her body? Why am I fighting to part her lips with my tongue? C
hanging my tactic, I suck hard on her bottom lip. I smirk when her reaction is as I had hoped. She gasps from the pain of my roughness. Opening her mouth just enough, I recapture her mouth. This time, I won’t be denied.

  I slip passed her teeth to enter. Everything hits my sense at once. Her taste, the softness of her lips, the heat of her body, the rapid beat of her pulse under my fingertips, the feel of her tongue when she joins the fun of kissing me back. Shit! Tia is kissing me back. Jesus, the woman can kiss. The way she teases, how she uses just the tip to caress me, then retreats to allow me to deep throat her. Fuck, that sucking on my tongue is-

  My eyes open, then roll back in my head when her hand seeks and grips my dick. Suddenly, space and air are coming between us. Neither one of us can speak. Wide-eyed, we stare at each other as we fight to regain our breath and wits. She attempts to push me off, but I tighten my grip on her neck. Wanting more, I go back in. If the treatment of my hand around her neck is rough, the way I’m making love to her mouth is the complete opposite.

  “I’m going to get my shot, Tia.”

  I lean back enough to read her face and for her to see mine. A light flicker in her dark eyes then it’s gone.

  “We can fuck and get it over with.”

  Instead of giving in to the urge to strangle the bitch out of Tia, my hand loosens. I smirk. Licking my lips, I lean back to sit upright.

  “Nah,” I shake my head. “I change my mind. I think you misunderstand me,” I say when I notice a flash of embarrassment creep into her expression. “I want more than a fuck. I want to fuck your mind…your heart. I’m going to own your soul, Tia, and the best part of it all is you’re going to give it all to me. Know why? Because you’ve just shown me in the space of five minutes that you see me as a man…and not the boy you claim. A man, you’ll find yourself trusting. A man, you’ll find yourself falling for,” pausing, I caress the side of her face with the back of my inked hand. “This time….”

  I don’t finish my sentence. Tia might have the qualities of another, but I’m to not blind to see she’s so much more.

  **

  TIA