by Falon Gold
You knew this wasn’t going to be a pleasant stay, Amari. Just be numb, and you can walk into this cage. It’s as easy as placing one foot in front of the other when you feel nothing.
“You okay, Amari?”
No. Jealousy is riding me like a backwards cowgirl, and I despise him for it. Again. But that loathing is going to save me from him again, as long as I let him do him.
“I’m fine.”
He points toward the double-front doors. I precede him, consider plotting a course in any direction but forward, which is futile. The black wrought-iron gate surrounding the property is unsurmountable at ten feet without a ladder. I’m no climber. Nor will the women inside the house not condemn me as a competitor for Camron. They’ll soon learn that he is theirs to do with as they want. There’s no fixing him for me, and he’ll damn sure have to be reprogrammed when it comes to needing other women around.
He unlocks one door, places a hand on the small of my back, and ushers me inside the white onyx foyer… into a ring of crystal vases with long-stemmed red roses. The bouquets follow the curves of the walls, out of a small opening at the backside of the entry. It expands into the central part of the first level where a massive chandelier is suspended from an oval skylight.
I’d follow the path the bouquets are generating up a spiral staircase to my left if Camron wasn’t guiding me out of them to the immediate right, into the diva’s domain. When their chatter floats to us over hardwood floors, I freeze in my tracks. The repulsive odor of cattiness pumps out of the opened tearoom draped in women wearing bikinis.
So, there’s a pool here. If not, I’m coloring each and every one of these wenches as pathetic for waiting for him to come home in swimwear.
Camron strolls pass me. “Come on, Amari. I want you to meet your guests before you start tracking the flowers you’re so passionate about like they’re bread crumbs.”
“My guests! Those people are your guests, and I’ll pass.”
He comes back for me and murmurs low enough for only me to hear, “Are you refusing me?”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to, Camron. Packing a bunch of ovaries in one room with only two testicles is worse than adding gasoline to a forest fire. Something or someone is bound to get blown to smithereens. That won’t be you… or me.” I thumb over my shoulder. “Because I’m going that way to track the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
“Amari, you can do that later because it’ll take you a while. There are two arrangements for every birthday of yours that I missed, which is all of them. I also have a spare contract in my office that states you’ll be here for half a year instead of a fourth of it if you don’t do as I ask. Now, make me use it.”
Fifty-four vases of red roses for me—a small fortune spent on my birthdays past. Stunned, I can’t even speak to thank him. The shock doesn’t last long though. There’s something worse than everything I’ve gone through at his hands: the doubling of my sentence here. That trumps the astonishing thought he put into the gifts. It had to be him—what woman in his life would go through this much trouble for me unless he put her up to it?
A soft rumbling emanates from my nostrils. “Thank you for the flowers. No one has ever done something like for me, but if I was a bear with claws right now—”
“You’re welcome, and violence will not be tolerated here, Amari.”
“You can’t outlaw violence with this many vaginas in your house while threatening to make me stay here longer than I already agreed. I sure as hell didn’t agree to stay here with them.”
“I can outlaw violence because you are above it. Now follow me, or I will activate the new agreement.” I’m so not above it.
He walks off. Behind him, I vibrate with contradicting emotions, animosity and wanting to kiss him senseless for the flowers. A stupid romantic at heart maybe, but I’m not stupid. Distance between us at all times is the best tactic I can employ until I get to move out. For now, we invade the threshold of the extra-large entryway into the tearoom, the women instantly quieting down.
“Ladies, I want you to meet Amari Spencer, the woman I had you all moving heaven and earth for yesterday and today. Introduce yourselves, girls.”
A vibe that can be only be labeled as cliquish swamps the atmosphere. I’m out before they even let me in their clique. That’s cool with me. I didn’t want in it.
“How long is flower-girl going to be here?” A dark, exotic beauty with an accent indigenous to Jamaica inquires from under a mop of tight spiral curls cascading over plump breasts that are overflowing shiny, gold triangles.
Her shapely legs cross on a slim body that is sunk into a chaise lounge. I can’t tell if she has on bottoms or not. Don’t want to be here when she gets up. She begins to eye Camron as if we’re in a drought and he’s the last drop of water for miles around.
“As long as I say, Sasha,” Camron replies coolly, as if he’s bored already.
“But Camron,” a pale, too thin Barbie doll complains in a Texan twang with a pretty pout of her glossy lips. Golden-haired, blue eyed, and a curvaceous whiner.
Camron twirls his neck, a sure sign of his irritation. “What, Layla?”
“I still want the room across from yours.” She bats her eyelash extensions.
I wonder does that actually work for her when she wants something, or someone.
“You know it’s Amari’s room, Layla. Why even ask?” he drones.
I decide it’ll be a bad move to get between her and Camron’s bedroom door, and that I’m not going to. “Layla, is it? Hi, you can have the room. I can bunk down here on the couch. Have no luggage anyway. Don’t need much space.”
Camron’s jaw locks.
Layla screws up her face as if she smells something vile. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
I point my forehead toward the vaulted ceiling, and silently pray for heavenly strength and patience. I’ve already run out of the earthly kind. “Ladies, you’re welcomed to pretend I don’t exist. I won’t be getting in your way.”
“Oh, honey, you’re not a threat to anyone in that getup. Ever heard of Prada, Louis, Manolos?” The third woman speaks up at last, her intonation mirroring Camron’s Italian lilt.
“Oh honey,” I mimic her. “Even if you were wearing all three designer labels, you would still be classless.” But maybe not. She’s just as attractive as Sasha and Layla, with a flawless skin tone symbolic of mixed black and white heritage, in a white swimsuit trimmed in gold and a mass of tight brown and blonde tendrils.
“That’s enough, ladies,” Camron referees. “You all know why you’re here.”
She who has yet to be named clambers to the edge of the loveseat, slams a bottle of the bubbly down on the white surface of an egg-shaped table with a fish aquarium in the base, and yells, “Camron, are you going to let that bitch talk to us like that while we’re visiting you?” Volatile. Much more venomous than the others. I even go so far as to dub her territorial. Must be the leader of the crew. Great. I’m living with the mean girls.
“That’s. Enough. Everyone,” he growls. Is that all he has to say?
Looks like I’m on my own here then. Fine.
“Is ‘bitch’ the best insult you can come up with for me with all that head you’re carrying on those linebacker shoulders? Must’ve inherited them from your father. You could make a lot of money with those playing professional football, you know? I’m sure money is what you’re all about anyway, gold digger.”
She hops to her feet in a huff. I envision drawing an imaginary line in the floor with the tip of my shoe, daring the snobbish socialite to cross it. Right now, I need something to exorcise the stress creeping up my spine and neck. She never progresses further than the immediate circle of furniture and her friends though. It’s disappointing to me, even though I’m not your everyday brawler. Maybe I should be glad she’s talking smack from a distance. She does have backup that I don’t.
“Bailey,” Camron says dryly, “her name is Amari, and she’s talking to you in th
e same way you’re talking to her. As you can see, she’s very skilled at throwing rail for rail, even when no one’s thrown the first rail. If you can’t take it…” I tune him out.
So, this is Bailey, who’s pointing an accusing finger at me with her lips moving under matted, black lipstick soundlessly. She stops talking, tilts her head to the side, to give Camron a onceover that lasts for… well, she’s still looking. The tip of her tongue peeks out the corner of her mouth like she’s suddenly hungry and Camron is to be her next meal. Damn trollop.
When he looks down at me, I reset the sound barrier.
“…and you’re not helping, Amari.” He’s chastising me, when it’s the witch squad who started the lip battling without knowing me from a turkey sandwich.
I should’ve left him on mute. “And neither were you helping, Camron, when you bought me here with the octopuses ready to tentacle my eyes out for a man not worth all of this trouble. No man is, and you don’t put women in the same room as the man they’ve all slept with or want to sleep with. You sure as hell don’t offer them all accommodations at the same time. But you know what’s worse, I never understood why women attack the woman being unknowingly added to the chaos but not the man who’s doing the adding. I guess this makes me the peanut butter selection of your 31 ice cream flavors. How many women are you actually sleeping with right now, by the way? I’m sure we all want to know.”
“I said that’s enough, Amari.”
“You’re right, and I’m out of here.” I rotate around.
Have no clue where I’m going. If I end up in a closet, it’ll be better than being in this one.
“Dammit! Get back here, Amari.”
I pitch my middle finger over my shoulder as farewell. Someone squeaks in outrage.
“Six months!” he bellows.
Ninety more days here isn’t an alternative, so I stop.
“Turn around and come back now, Amari.”
I retrace my steps to his side, and inspect a spot on the bare wall behind the women.
“She obviously doesn’t want to be here, Camron, so why is she?” Scorn mars Bailey’s face like bacteria on rotten meat, and it’s in her voice. On her shoulders that’s hiked up to her ears, which are really big too for such a slender woman.
If the intense dislike for me swamping her features is any indication, she’ll make my time here a complete agony, but only if I don’t forge an exit out of the Faustian pact with the devil soon.
“Again, she’s here because I want her here, Bailey,” Camron retorts. “Just like you all are, but you’re all welcomed to leave.”
I raise a finger in the air and bow my head in gratitude. “That’s my cue.”
Camron’s head slants downward like a whip in my direction. “Not you, Amari.”
You tried it even when you knew better.
“Why don’t I have the same privileges as them?” If he won’t enlighten them about the reason for my staycation here, I will surely hint at it. Fending off attacks from these women isn’t my idea of a good time.
“That’s enough, Amari,” he hisses.
You’re cutting it close to the terms of the deal.
But not close enough.
“Camron, do you see the identical look on their faces? That’s pure disdain for the new girl that is absolutely baseless. Tell them the facts. You aren’t catnip for every feline in heat.” That excludes the four women in this house, but what they don’t know about me won’t hurt anyone.
“So you’ve said, Amari. Now follow me to your room.”
“I’m fine right here. I can wait for the… ladies to retire to their bedrooms. Layla is still welcome to mine. The sofa looks absolutely comfortable enough. Plush and clean.” Vacant of asses.
“Fol-low. Me.” he repeats slowly, as if he’s talking to a foreigner.
I’m still a pet that must perform tricks. Nothing’s changed there at least.
“Alright, Camron, but you should stop gritting your teeth like that. You’ll have nubs by the time you’re fifty.”
“Stop giving me reasons to, Amari.”
“Hey, I’m not your problem,” I chirp back under the chandelier. “Cruella and the two Dalmatians in the tearoom are.”
He whirls around on me. I nearly crash into his chest, rocking backwards on my heels to prevent the collision. We clash enough as is.
By lassoing my shoulders with both hands, he stabilizes me. “Amari, the only woman I’ve slept with in here is you.” Then why are they here?
That’s not your business, Amari. Getting out of the contract is.
“You don’t have to limit yourself for me, Camron. All it’ll do is cramp your style during my prison term.”
“You’re not listening again.”
“Oh, I heard you, and you’re very much welcome to sleep with any of them for the first time while I’m here and after I’ve gotten out for good behavior.” My midsection begins doing its usual acrobatics when imagining him with others.
“What does that mean?”
“Just what it sounds like, Camron.”
“There is no getting out for good behavior, Amari.”
“Sure there is, if I have anything to do with it. Do you know what kind of pit you’ve dragged me into with those women here? A viper pit.”
He has the grace to look apologetic. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“Are you telling me you can’t recognize when a woman wants you? All three are so open with their attraction to you, a blind man could see it.”
Four.
Shut up.
“I’m sorry, Amari. Shit! I’m always apologizing to you. Look, I should’ve gave you the option of their company before we got here. Bailey Rossi’s a longtime family friend from Italy. She’s like family to me. Layla Jensen and Sasha Higgins are her friends from NYU. I thought you’d welcome the company when I’m gone. I thought they’d embrace you with open arms. That’s the impression Bailey gave me when she was helping me get ready for your stay.”
How many things did he do in the name of ‘thinking of me’ before I got here tonight? If he makes that a habit, I’m done for.
“Thanks, Camron, but no thanks to the company. I’m a big girl. Don’t be sorry. Just let me go home.”
“No. I can’t.” His thumbs skim over my collar bones. “I want to but I can’t.”
I shiver. “You can, but you won’t.”
“Yes. I’ll send them home.”
Good. Perfect setup to christen every inch of this house with no onlookers.
Oh no, we won’t.
“Don’t send them away, Camron.” They’ll keep me alert, judgment sound. “You wanted them here for a reason. They can keep you company when you’re here.” And out of my bed.
Sleeping with him is like quicksand. Will suck me into him until I don’t want a way out. Have to refrain from that at all costs, even if I have to cope with claws and minor skirmishes with the in-house wildlife in lipstick and hair extensions.
I feel icky just thinking about it. “You can show me where my room is now if you don’t mind. I need a bath… and a computer of some kind. I don’t have a change of clothes and need to order some.”
“No, there’s…” A loud bang at the front of the house interrupts him.
Linking his hand with mine, he tugs me along to the doors. “I think that’s Blake and Astrid.”
“Allies. I need a few of those at the moment. How long are they staying?”
“They’re not staying, and I am your ally, Amari.”
“You’re not, Camron. I’ve made an enemy of you just as I did those women in there, but I wished I’d told you the truth about the necklace. Maybe things would’ve have turned out differently if we’d both been straight with each other.”
At the door, his chin drops into his chest, as if he’s dog-tired. Then he blows his breath out. “We’ll talk about it later, Amari. There’s too damn many people here right now and I need to play host.” He wrenches open a door to Blake and Astrid. �
�Hey, guys.”
Once inside, Astrid crushes me against her sheriff’s uniform. “The flowers are so beautiful. They must be for you, and happy belated birthday.”
“Thank you.” I hug her one-armed, appreciating her so much for the friendliness. The beasties in the other room are probably going to be my only contact with civilization, and there’s nothing civilized about them.
Blake rocks baby BJ behind her, frowning as if someone peed in his cereal this morning. “Hey guys right back to you two. I need to speak with you in private, Camron. A.S.A.P.!”
“We can do it here, Blake. I’m not hiding anything else from Amari, and I know what you’re pissed about.”
“Oh, you do? Then why is there a meat market in your damn tearoom while Amari is here too? I told you to keep your women away from her.”
Has Camron been going to Blake for advice? Did Camron stop dating for me?
I think you know the answers already.
I look at him from an unfamiliar perspective, as someone I can trust with my heart.
“They’re not meat I’ve been with, Blake,” Camron defends with a stranglehold on my hand. “They’re company for Amari when I’m gone on business trips and at work. This house is big and it’ll be lonely for her until she’s comfortable here alone.”
Sounds like I’m never moving back out if he has his way.
Would that be so bad?
I no longer know.
Astrid releases me to relieve Blake of the sailor short-suited baby who’s gnawing on his miniature fist beneath a slick crop of jet black hair. “Blake, before you two start, Amari and I are—”
“We’re not staying long enough to need to fix the baby a bottle, Astrid.” Blake collars the nape of her neck with a huge hand. “And neither is Amari. I’m not letting any of you be tainted any further by the stupid shit Camron’s done.”
Without all the facts, I think Blake might just fireman-carry me out of here. He’s a sweet, overprotective loose cannon that may unload on all the Spencers with friendly fire if I don’t speak up.