Erotic City

by Pynk

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  Tamiko shook her head to chase away the voice that kept trying to get her attention.

  He kissed her cleavage and reached under her to unsnap her bra and release her twins. He kissed one and then the other, sucking both, back and forth, giving equal time, tracing the circle of her areola with his tongue.

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  He said nothing.

  Tamiko couldn’t help but wonder if his phone was in his pants pocket on the floor or what. She glanced in that direction, over toward the foot of the bed.

  He continued to suck her breasts, palming each tittie and squeezing them together.

  “You smell good,” he said, inhaling the essence of her familiar God-given scent that he’d craved. With his right hand, he rubbed her between her lower lips and got a sample of her excessive soaking. “Damn, you are ready aren’t you?”

  “I am. And I need your dick inside of me.”

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  Tamiko exhaled. Her rumbling mind insisted that she ask, “Do you need to get that?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want to turn it off?” Her voice showed stress.

  A single tone sounded.

  “It’s a message. It’s cool.”

  Jarod slowly lowered himself. His mouth traveled down from her tits, to her belly, to her baldness, and then to the point of her candied clitoris.

  Tamiko’s eyes were wide. She did not blink. She did not move. Her only inclination was to pinch herself, but she thought if she did, she might wake up.

  She could feel Jarod open his mouth. He was breathing on her split. His breath was hot. He had his palms on her tits while he went . . . down there. He took a whiff.

  He stuck the tip of his tongue inside of her tender opening and kissed her glossy vagina loudly.

  She jumped and her eyes bugged. Oh my goodness, she said under her breath. No he’s not.

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  She yelled out, “Jarod.”

  He spoke from down below. “It’s okay.”

  Tamiko closed her eyes only for a second. His new trick made her nervous. She could not believe that he was trying to go fishing. She looked down at him, seeing those lips that were once upon Nancy, now upon her. She exhaled and lifted herself up, moving back away from his face. She sat up and put her hands to her face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She avoided looking at him. “You need to go.”

  “Why?”

  She waved her hand and stood. “I can’t.”

  He rolled over and lay upon his back. “Tamiko. Let’s talk. I understand we haven’t talked in person.”

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  “The only person you need to be talking to is whoever that is blowing up your phone at four in the morning.”

  “Tamiko.”

  She grabbed her peach-colored robe from the door hook. “Good-bye Jarod.”

  He sat up. “I need you to listen. I’ve been trying to think of a way to make this better and get back what we had.”

  “Jarod, who is that trying to reach you?” Her tone was angry and bossy.

  “I don’t know.”

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  She pointed at the floor. “Well, check it. It’s obviously important.”

  He bent down and reached into his pocket to grab his phone. He looked down at the display and then picked up his clothes. With a long face, he stepped into his jeans and buttoned his shirt.

  “It’s Nancy, isn’t it?” She slid her arms through the sleeves and pulled her robe closed.

  “Yes.”

  “Good-bye.”

  “Tamiko, we’re not . . .”

  She used her hand as a stop sign. “Don’t say it. Obviously somebody is. And next time, put your phone on silent, like all good players do.”

  Jarod’s face gave away the fact that he wanted to say more. He put on his shoes and followed her to her front door. She held it open. He shook his head and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. She turned the other way as he stepped out. She closed the door.

  Tamiko’s tears began to flow while she leaned her back against the door and melted down to the floor.

  “I still love him. I miss him. I want to forgive him. He’s such a jerk. He’s a greedy, dirty dog. Would it be so bad to have him back?”

  There was a knock at the door. “It’s me. Please let me in. I left something.”

  “What?”

  “Let me in,” his voice begged up against the door.

  She braced herself upon her knees and crawled to a stance, unlocking the door and pulling it open before her. “What?” Her sigh was impatient and she wiped her cheek.

  “I left you before. This time, I’m not leaving.”

  She let his sentence saturate her brain over and over and she looked at him sideways. Her words jumped. “Good-bye, Jarod. Go home to Nancy.” Tamiko slammed the door in his face.

  She stood with her face to the door when she heard Jarod’s footsteps just after one-half ring of his cell. “Stop fucking calling me, damnit. Grow the fuck up. I don’t have any money. No. I can’t come by.” Each word got more faint in equal measure to the disappearing sound of his departing footsteps.

  43

  “Seven Whole Days”

  Thursday, June 5, 2008

  10:40 a.m.

  Milan awoke alone on a Thursday morning, lying in bed nude, feeling Lavender’s absence. It had only been their three off days, though it actually felt like seven days of missing Lavender. She reached over to her cordless and dialed.

  He greeted her as though energized. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning. Lavender, are you coming to the club tonight?”

  “Of course I am.”

  She replied fast, “Of course? I thought I might need to ask. What’s going on with you anyway?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Lavender, something’s up. Are you trying to get ghost on me?”

  “I thought you needed space.”

  “I did. But something’s up with you. You said you weren’t going anywhere.”

  “I haven’t gone anywhere. Actually, the only thing I’ve been trying to do is line up a meeting with one of the investment guys Jed told me about. I want to talk to him about putting some money into me opening a regular nightclub.”

  “You opening a nightclub? Since when did you decide to do that?”

  “Since I talked to Angel and Sharon, those women who were in the club when Tamiko was there the other night. One of them, Angel, is a Realtor and she told me about this spot in Stone Mountain on Hairston that would be perfect. It’s been in my head for while. I think it’s a good location for a nightclub.”

  “You never mentioned that to me.”

  “Milan, it’s just a thought.”

  “So why’d you call the guy if it’s just a thought?”

  “I got his number from Jed and called. I left a message. I’m waiting for him to call me back.”

  She lay on her back as she spoke. “I don’t know. It just seems funny that you ask me to include you in what goes on with the court case, and then you don’t even bother keeping me in the loop before you start exploring opening a club of your own. Is that how things are between us now? Now I guess it’s yours and mine, not ours. All because I told you I’m at my wit’s end?”

  “You didn’t do that when you made that deal with the WET TV Network.”

  “Oh, so you see me making things happen with the show, being focused on business, and you suddenly decide to move ahead with new plans of your own?”

  Lavender gave a nasally chuckle. “Are you trying to say I’m jealous?”

  “I didn’t, but are you?”

  “See, I always support you and now, when the shoe’s on the other foot, you blame me for wanting to line up my own projects. This is not about you. And be responsible for the fact that you all but pushed me away, and now you want me to act like you’re my wife. So much for you being happy for me.”

&nbs
p; His sarcasm caused her to blink a mile a minute. “Lavender, do you want me to buy you out of the club?”

  “No. Erotic City is an investment for me.”

  “We’ve both made good money with the club, so whenever you’re ready to see the books, or have someone come in and look at them, you’re more than welcome to.” Her edge was razor sharp.

  “I know that.” He sounded exhausted with the topic.

  “And if you do open your own club, wouldn’t that affect Erotic City?”

  “We’d work it out, just like we’d do if we expanded. We’d hire people.”

  “Okay. But you must admit that the only time we see each other lately is at work? That must make Ramada pretty happy.”

  “What?” Annoyance coated his one word.

  She spoke louder. “Or whoever’s pleasing you in the bed nowadays. Because it’s surely not me.” Milan turned to her side and readjusted her pillow.

  “Like I said, you’re the one who asked for space. It’s only been a few days.”

  She was one inch from yelling. “For you to not get fucked every night isn’t like you either. You were over here every day before I got serious about my concerns about her.”

  They both paused.

  She took a deep breath and said, “Don’t you see what’s happening to us?”

  “You just need to relax. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t act fine.”

  She could hear him exhale.

  “Lavender, we’re not the same as before and you act like you can’t even see it. Why is that?” She turned onto her back again, looking straight up.

  He said, “Then maybe you were right. Maybe we both need space. Maybe we need to take a break.”

  She quickly switched the phone to her right ear and spoke fast. “One minute you say you’re not going anywhere, and then you’re the one suggesting a break. Seems to me you’re ready to test the waters with your new Angel or Sharon or whoever.”

  His tone was calm. “You’ve got it all wrong.”

  “No, I think I’ve got it right.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “It seems to me this is exactly what you want. You ask me to listen to the song ‘All This Love,’ and then you run right back into player-hood like before.”

  “Milan, hold on.” There was a rustling sound of him moving the phone. “Wait, let me call you right back.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve got a call.”

  She spoke louder. “From who. Who is so important at this moment?”

  “It’s from Ramada. Good-bye. I’ll call you right back.” Lavender clicked over in spite of Milan’s tone.

  Milan sat straight up yoga style. She stared at the display to see if indeed the call had ended. “What the? Foolish chick must have gotten the news of that order being filed. I can’t believe he just clicked over like that.” Her anger and confusion were written all over her face. A call came in. “Hello,” she said with an edge.

  “Milan. It’s Jarod.”

  “What?” She accentuated the last letter, pulling the covers over her legs. To herself she said, Oh Lord.

  The sound of a Kenny G tune was behind his voice. “I’ve been debating whether or not to call you.”

  “And I see that your better judgment lost out. What?” she asked again, making it obvious she was in no mood.

  “I’m headed home. I’ve been going through a lot. And first of all I want to apologize. I lost the best woman I’ve ever had in your sister, and that’s one hell of a price to pay.”

  “I agree.”

  “Nancy’s been showing up unannounced. She’s been desperate and, the truth is, I’m a little worried about her.”

  “That’s between the two of you. You ran off with your MILF preference. You made that bed. You fuck in it.”

  “Milan, I don’t blame you.”

  “I wish I could say that to you. Jarod, I know you didn’t expect me to not be pissed off. Now other than you being worried about Nancy, who you probably hurt as well, what else do you want? Because I’m about to hang up.”

  “I totally understand your anger. I deserve that.” He waited. “What I did cost me a job I wasn’t ready to leave.”

  “You must have been.” She shook her hair and tossed it back.

  “I wasn’t. I enjoyed working there. I appreciated you for hiring me.”

  “Yeah well. Your upper head won out. Are you done?” Milan’s frown was deep set.

  “What I wanted to tell you was, and it might be nothing at all. But, I was at the airport today, picking up a client, and I saw Ramada, Lavender’s ex. The one who came in that night?”

  She gave a long blink and sighed. “So?”

  “Well, she was with Big Mack. And they were obviously together, if you know what I mean.”

  “Ramada and Big Mack?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe they just ended up on the same flight. But when was this? She just called Lavender.”

  “Then she must have just called him from the plane because they were just headed out of town not long ago. To Las Vegas. And believe me, Milan. They were very, very together.”

  Milan just sat, wondering what the hell Ramada was up to now. And how Ramada could actually be involved with the very man she accused of forcing himself on her at knifepoint. It was just another sign that Ramada Hart was off her rocker.

  Milan hung up and then called Lavender, but it went straight to voice mail. She didn’t leave a message.

  44

  “Try a Little Tenderness”

  Thursday, June 5, 2008

  4:12 p.m.

  Milan sat at the desk in her home office after opening the envelope that contained her second check from the WET TV Network. She opened the document on her computer and read over the completed copy of the premiere episode that she’d turned in. She reread a portion of her script called “Adrenaline Rush.”

  We, he and I, needed it. It was an adrenaline rush for my boyfriend and me. Adrenaline is a funny thing. It’s defined as a hormone released into the bloodstream that initiates bodily responses. It can affect the heart rate and blood pressure. Is that what that was when a strange man would stick his dick up my ass while my boyfriend fucked a girl in her ass at the same time? Was that what that thump, thump, thump was in my chest? A response to the fear factor? The fear of engaging in the forbidden? Fucking people we’d just met was hot as hell. Little did I know that one day, he’d take the road of the straight and narrow, the road of the cloth, and leave me here, still swinging from limb to limb, dick to dick, all fucked up from an adrenaline rush bonding. All in the name of, as he now calls it, sinning. For now, though, I have a new fear factor. And that’s my man’s ex-girlfriend. She must have adrenaline rushes twenty-four-seven. Because she is one crazy broad.

  Just as she took a deep breath and exhaled, preparing to take a break, her phone rang. A 404 number appeared.

  “Hello.”

  A female voice said, “Milan Kennedy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ms. Kennedy, this is Grady Memorial Hospital. We’re calling about Nancy Clark Kennedy. Your mother.”

  “Yes. I mean no. Well she’s my stepmother. What’s going on?”

  “Nancy is here. You’ve been identified as next of kin. I’m sorry but you might want to come here right away. Nancy has been raped.”

  Milan stood from her chair. “Raped? What happened?”

  “She was found screaming in the backseat of her car. She has injuries to her back, arms, legs, and neck.”

  Milan plopped back in her chair. “Oh my goodness. How is she?”

  “She’s in stable but serious condition.”

  “What happened? I mean where was she?”

  “Someone passing by on the street near Cascade Road saw her in the backseat yelling for help. She told them that when she was sleeping, some man attacked her. Ms. Kennedy, is she living in her car?”

  “No. Not that I know of.”

  “And I need to tell y
ou that, she lost her baby as well.”

  Milan leaned forward. “Her baby?”

  “Yes. She was only about six or seven weeks along. She had a miscarriage. And it may have been due to trauma, or due to her age, we’re not sure. I’m sorry. If you’d like to come and see her, she’s here.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “And a Jarod Hamilton is here as well. He’s the one who gave us your information as next of kin.”

  “Jarod is there?”

  “Yes. Apparently, he was the baby’s father.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Within ten minutes, Milan was in her car, headed downtown toward the hospital. She drove faster than she thought she would. She felt anxious. She felt worried. And she was surprised that she wasn’t actually mad. It really wasn’t anger that she felt. It was confusion from a ton of questions rattling about in her head.

  Does this woman even deserve my time? Should I show up like this when she hurt my father and threatened to sue us? Especially after she got with Tamiko’s man? Even when she got pregnant by him.

  Again she felt anxious. The instinctual answer to her questions was no. She then wondered, What was she doing sleeping in the backseat of her car anyway?

  She kept driving. Fast. She thought about her own mother and how Nancy had stabbed her in the back by playing the other woman.

  “I feel like a traitor,” she said out loud. “Am I doing the right thing?”

  She inserted the Jill Scott CD into the player but fumbled with it. She pushed one button and the radio played loudly. Just as she turned it down, a song began to play. It was the song that made her father famous. “Try a Little Tenderness.”

  Milan turned it back up, lowered her hand, and listened to the words. You know she’s waiting, anticipating, for the things she’ll never possess. She felt the heat rush over her body and she swallowed hard to make room for her breathing. She sang, “Try a little tenderness.” She sang the line twice.

  She slowed down a bit.

  She calmed herself and answered her phone when she was less than a mile away from the off ramp on 85. “Hello, Lavender.”

  He said, “Hey. I have Taj with me. I just wanted you to know.”