Quentin eyeballed him dubiously. “Broke? What the hell were you doing?”
“Uh, none of your damn business, cuz. I done told you that your old-school moves can’t keep up.”
“Junior, stop all that noise. All you toddlers out here think y’all invented sex. How in the hell do you think y’all got here? Plus, I’m not that much older than you.”
Jeremy smirked because age jokes always got under Quentin’s skin.
“Anyway, a real professional playa’s condoms don’t break.”
“Look, just because you got all that extra room in your condoms, don’t be hatin’ on us snug-fit brothas. Hell, I hear some chicks think that nice things come in small packages.”
“You’re not funny.”
Jeremy’s laugh deepened and then rumbled the rest of the way to The Dollhouse.
“Get the hell up out of my car,” Q barked, throwing the car into Park and then exiting the vehicle in almost the same fluid motion.
“C’mon, Quentin,” Jeremy continued laughing as he climbed out of the car. “You know I got nothing but love for you, baby.”
Quentin tossed up his middle finger while he strolled faster toward the back door, where he quickly produced a key and jetted inside.
Jeremy just barely caught the door before it slammed shut in his face. “Aww. Did I hurt somebody’s itty-bitty feelings?”
“There you are, Jeremy,” said Thomas, the club’s head chef, glancing up from his inventory accounting. “We’ve been wondering where you’ve been.” His expression twisted. “What the hell happened to your face?”
“Everybody, meet the Naked Malibu Burglar—fresh outta the joint!” Quentin barked bitterly.
Jeremy’s jaw dropped open as he chased after his cousin. “Yo, man. You don’t broadcast something like that in a place of business. Like I said, the whole thing is just a misunderstanding.” He puffed up his chest
Q stopped in the middle of the main club. “Yeah. Let me make sure I got this straight. Your imaginary future baby momma broke you two into a house, sexed you up, scrammed and then left you in a trashed bedroom where you then got up and paraded around naked until Malibu Barbie started screaming her head off and a sumo wrestler raced in and knocked you unconscious before calling the police. Did I get all of that straight?”
Jeremy blinked. “Well…I admit that it sounds a bit far-fetched when you say it like that.”
“Then how would you like for me to say it?” Quentin folded his arms and waited.
“Look, I don’t know why the girl broke into the place, but I swear I thought she lived there.”
“…Because she was sooo forthcoming with her name?”
Jeremy ground his teeth. “Fine. Maybe it was a little lapse in judgment—a little one—because I can’t say that I’m at all sorry for hooking up with Baby Girl. I mean…” He shook his head as erotic memories scrolled through his head.
“Damn, are you going to start drooling now? You take thinking with the wrong head to a whole new level.” Q rolled his eyes and resumed his march toward the offices on the other side of the club.
“Whatever,” Jeremy said, rolling his eyes behind Q’s back. “You need to climb off your high horse. It’s not like you’ve never been led astray by a big butt and a smile.”
Quentin held up a pointed finger and opened his mouth to rebut the charge, but then clearly thought better of whatever lie he was about to tell and admitted, “We’re not talking about me. What’s with you Kings always flipping the script?”
Jeremy smirked. “Stop preaching and there won’t be a problem.”
“The only problem we have right now is your mouth,” Q said, charging into Jeremy’s office. “We’re going to put an end to this right now.” He started jerking and slamming desk drawers.
“Mind if I ask what the hell you’re doing?” Jeremy closed the door, and then folded his arms.
Q ignored him for about a full minute until he found what he was looking for. “Ah! I found it.” He jerked out a ruler. “How about we put some money where your lying mouth is?” Before Jeremy could answer, Q started unbuttoning his pants.
“What the hell?”
“Hundred dollars says I’m bigger than you.” He unzipped his pants.
Jeremy’s laughter exploded in the room, but just as quickly, he had to clutch his throbbing jaw. “Man, don’t make me laugh. I don’t want to take your money. It’ll be like taking candy from a baby.”
“Scared?” Q’s confident smile stretched wider. “Two hundred.”
“Q, man—”
“Cluck, cluck, cluck.”
“You’re clucking?” His face twisted. “Man, you sound like a chicken on crack.”
“C’mon, big boy. There’s two hundred dollars on the table. Put up or shut up.”
Jeremy caught the greedy gleam in his cousin’s eyes. “You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
“A’ight. Bet.” Jeremy unbuttoned and unzipped his pants as he moved closer to the desk. “Time to shut you down.”
“On the count of three,” Quentin said. “One, two…three!”
The cousins whipped out their cocks at the same moment Delilah burst through the door. “Jeremy, I heard that— What the hell!” She turned her head away.
Jeremy and Quentin quickly crammed themselves back into their pants.
“Uh, sorry about that, Dee,” Jeremy said sheepishly, as his face burned with embarrassment.
Delilah peeked back over her shoulder to make sure that the coast was clear. She turned around with her hands on her hips. “Let me guess—another bet?”
“Hell, while you’re in here, maybe you can just be the judge,” Quentin suggested, reaching for his zipper again.
“Uh-uh-uh. Don’t you dare,” Delilah warned before Q whipped it out again. “What the hell is wrong with you two? Does everything have to be a damn competition?”
“It’ll just take a second,” Quentin said, unmoved by her outrage.
“No!”
Jeremy laughed. “I guess it would be considered unprofessional.”
“You think?” Delilah shook her head and then finally took a good look at her boss’s face. “Ohmigod! What happened?” She rushed over to Jeremy and grabbed the sides of his face so that she could take a good look.
“Ssss.” Jeremy winced. “Careful. I’m not sure my jaw isn’t broken.”
“Then why aren’t you at the hospital or something?”
“Because Q thought it was much more important for us to measure his dick.”
Quentin rolled his eyes. “Whatever, cuz. You owe me two hundred dollars—plus your bail money.”
“Bail?” Delilah said, astonished.
“Are you crazy?” Jeremy’s chest puffed out indigently. “You didn’t win.”
“I most certainly didn’t lose.”
“Oh, my God. You two are giving me a headache. Why is it every time you two get together you start acting like children?”
“Because he always starts it,” Jeremy said, pointing.
“Nuh-uh. You started it,” Quentin countered.
“Geez Louise.” Delilah rolled her eyes. “Just shut up before I put you both in a time out.”
They both clamped their mouths shut and exchanged heated glares.
“Now tell me what the hell happened to your face?” she instructed.
“Yeah, Jeremy.” Quentin leaned a hip against the corner of the desk. “Tell good ol’ Delilah how half your face caved in.”
Jeremy knocked Q’s hip off the desk and threw his head back in a hearty laugh when his cousin went tumbling to the floor.
Delilah counted to ten. “I swear you two need constant supervision.”
Quentin pulled himself off the floor. “That’s all right. Chuckle it up. Next time you need to be bailed out of jail, call one of your Boy Scout brothers so you can get the tongue lashing you deserve.”
“I’m still waiting to hear the story,” Delilah reminded Jeremy.
“There was just this misunderstanding yesterday morning.” He shrugged, but saw that his mother-hen employee was going to need more than that if he wanted to get her off his back.
“What sort of misunderstanding?” Q prompted as he settled his elbows on the desk, cupped his face in his hands and proceeded to give him the innocent puppy-dog look.
Jeremy was beginning to think that he would’ve been better off if he had just called someone else in the family—anyone else.
“There was this woman,” Jeremy started.
“I figured that much,” Delilah said. “The question is, did she or her man give you that shiner?”
“Oooh. Good question,” Quentin leaned in closer—until Jeremy gave him a look that made it clear that he was in danger of receiving a matching black eye.
Jeremy quickly gave Delilah the abridged version of what happened at Dylan Freedman’s bachelor party. However, every time he referred to Baby Girl, a smile kept spreading across his face. When he finished, Delilah was laughing and Quentin looked horror-struck.
“Why are you smiling like that?” Q asked, his brows dipped toward his nose.
“Smiling like what?”
Quentin jumped up onto his feet and started waving his finger. “Don’t play stupid with me. I know that look. That look is trouble. Have you forgotten our deal? No more weddings.”
“What? No. Who said anything about weddings? I’m just saying that I had a nice time with the girl.”
“Wait a minute,” Delilah interrupted. “You two have a deal about not getting married?”
Quentin bobbed his head. “Yep. And I even got it in writing.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a crumpled-up piece of paper.
Jeremy frowned. “You carry that thing around with you?”
“Are you kidding me? It’s my American Express card. I never leave home without it.”
“You have issues.”
“Whatever.” He slapped the paper down on the desk and pointed. “See? It’s right here in black and white. I…you…‘Jeremy Jorell King, do solemnly swear that I will not get married or sell my shares in The Dollhouse Enterprise.’ That is your signature, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Jeremy acknowledged, rolling his eyes. “Now will you please put that away? I’m not getting married.”
Q’s eyes narrowed as he carefully studied his cousin’s face.
“I’m serious. It was just a wild fling. We met. We had fun. No big deal.” He laughed. “Hell, chances are that I’ll never see Baby Girl again.”
Chapter 6
“I was a bad girl this weekend,” Leigh confessed. She’d kept her secret from her best friend for two days. In her mind, that just had to be some kind of record.
Ariel snatched out one of her iPod earplugs without stumbling during their run through Torry Pine State Park. “Who was bad?”
“I was,” Leigh repeated as a rush of heat coursed through her entire body.
“Bad how?” Ariel asked, dubious about her friend’s confession.
The corners of Leigh’s mouth felt as though they were just inches from touching each other in the back of her head her smile was so wide. “I had a one-night stand.”
Ariel finally slowed down as doubt gave way to shock. “Get the hell out of here.”
Leigh bobbed her head. “I know. I know. I can hardly believe it myself. But I did it and I don’t feel the slightest bit guilty about it. I don’t.” She shook her head and accelerated past her friend.
It took Ariel a few seconds to process that Leigh was serious. She rushed to catch up with her again. “But what about DeShawn?”
“What about him?”
“Uh, is he cool with your suddenly liberated take on your relationship?”
“Screw DeShawn. We are soooo through.”
“Again?” Ariel laughed. “What did he do this time?”
“What does he always do? He cheated on me—again.”
Ariel’s amusement didn’t falter. “What, with another groupie or some miscellaneous ho?” her friend continued. “C’mon, Leigh. You knew what the deal was when you hooked up with a pro basketball player. These trifling women out here are no joke. You’re expecting a lot from a man—especially a man in his position—to resist that kind of temptation 24/7.”
“Gee, thanks. Silly me, I thought that you were supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side! DeShawn is a good man. And faults aside, he’s crazy about you. A blind person can see that.”
“Well if he loved me, he’d keep his damn pants zipped,” Leigh shot back as she slowed her pace. “I can’t believe you think I’m being unreasonable because I expect my man to be faithful to me.”
Ariel shook her head. “Look, if he was Joe Schmo with a regular 9-to-5, then yeah. I feel you,” Ariel said. “But any guy who’s a celebrity has women conniving and scheming to get them into bed around the clock. And most of these men are in the prime of their sex lives. Their testosterone is through the roof and they’re on the road all the time. Sure they’re going to slip up. It’s the law of averages.”
“Then he can just go and find him some other woman that’s gonna give him a pass with these skanks. I’m not putting up with it anymore. I’m tired of every time I call and he doesn’t pick up the phone I’m thinking that he’s screwing some trick. I’m tired of seeing lipstick on his collar or smelling perfume on his skin. That’s no way to live.”
“What’s different now than the past five years?”
“The difference is I’m tired of it—sick and tired of it, as a matter of fact,” Leigh said, picking up the pace.
Ariel pulled up beside her. “Leigh—”
“Look, if you’re going to defend DeShawn, then I don’t want to hear it. I’ve already heard a million excuses from him. I didn’t expect to hear them from my best friend.”
Ariel kept quiet for about five seconds. “I just think that you’re making a big mistake.”
Leigh huffed and rolled her eyes.
After another five seconds, Ariel said, “Sooo…you don’t love him anymore?”
“I didn’t say that I don’t love him.” Leigh sighed. “I just don’t know if I’m in love with him. There’s a difference.” From the corner of her eye, she could see her best friend shaking her head. “You just don’t understand.”
“You’re damn right I don’t understand,” Ariel said. “Do you know how hard it is to find a good man out here? DeShawn is a nice guy. He’s funny, charming, handsome and rich. Hell, I’d settle for one out of four on that list. The last date I had, the brother rolled my ass through the drive-thru at Taco Bell and caught a serious attitude because I wanted extra cheese on my taco.”
Leigh snickered.
“Laugh if you want to. But if you jump out here, you’re going to find out quick, fast and in a hurry that the difference between mangy dogs and dogs is that you can potty train dogs. Trust me. I’ve been out here longer than you have. When you finish picking off all the fleas and ticks, you’re going to be pissed that DeShawn’s next chick is rockin’ a Maybach and VVS stones. And I’m going to be on the sidelines with a big-ass sign that reads I Told You So.”
Leigh stopped running and bent over to catch her breath.
Ariel stopped and glanced back at her.
“Are you through?” Leigh said.
“Look, I’m just keeping it real—and trying to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life.”
“I was never with DeShawn for the money,” Leigh countered. “Everything I floss, I bought and paid for myself.”
“All right, Ms. Independent. There’re still plenty of little boys out here looking for a good sugar momma, too. And when you get tired of letting them always borrow your car, eat your food and run up your credit card, you come holler at me.”
“Damn, Ariel!”
“What? You can’t handle the truth? Or are you one of these women who thinks Sex and the City represents what the single life is really like out here? It’s rough. Ju
st because you had one one-night stand with a brother that put a smile on your face doesn’t mean that you’ve found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”
Leigh shook her head, still not wanting to buy what her friend was selling.
“Just promise me that you’ll think about it some more before you go out and have too many one-night stands.”
Leigh was on the verge of telling her that she was through thinking about it. She and DeShawn had been riding the same roller-coaster ride for five years. When do you just toss in the towel and say enough is enough?
“Leigh?”
“Fine,” she said defensively. “I’ll think about it.”
Ariel smiled. “Good. That’s all I ask.”
Leigh straightened up and then forced herself to resume their five-mile run. Gone were her good mood and the instant replays in her head of her one steamy night with a handsome stranger that did more than just put a smile on her face.
An hour later, Leigh returned to her West Hollywood condo feeling more confused than ever. Was she throwing a good thing away? Were her expectations too high in this day and age of sexual liberation? It pained her to admit it, but Ariel was right. Women threw themselves at DeShawn nonstop—a lot of times right when she was hooked on his arm. What was it Ariel said about the law of averages?
After slamming her front door and kicking off her Nikes with her toes, the blinking red light on the answering machine drew Leigh’s eyes. As she peeled out of her sweaty tank top, she walked over and hit Play.
“You have twenty messages.” Beep!
“What?” She glanced down at her watch. She’d only been gone two hours.
“Hey, Leigh, it’s DeShawn.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I was just calling to see…you know, if you’ve calmed down a bit so we can actually talk about this situation. I know—I know that I screwed up. But, baby, I said I was sorry, and I meant it. Now, surely you’re not about to just throw away these past five years. I mean, call me crazy, but I think this relationship is worth fighting for….”
“Then you should have fought a little harder to keep your pants zipped,” Leigh argued aloud at the answering machine.
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