Deception (Tamia Luke)

by Naomi Chase

  “That may be so,” Addison countered, “but the perception is that ever since she started dating you, she’s gotten comfortable. She seems more interested in having lunch with you than scheduling meetings with her clients. It’s almost as if she assumes that she’s got it made because you’re her boyfriend, and now that you’re an equity partner, your vote will sway the others into making her partner next summer.”

  Brandon laughed, shaking his head at Addison. “So that’s the meme that’s going around.”

  She frowned at him. “What are you talking about? What meme?”

  “The talking points everyone will recite to discredit Cynthia when she makes partner. You guys will say she was chosen because she’s dating me. Just like I supposedly benefited from who my parents are.”

  Addison stared at him, a slow flush crawling up her neck to spread over her face. “Are you pulling the race card, Brandon?”

  He met her gaze directly. “Are you?”

  She looked affronted. “First of all, no one in their right mind would say you didn’t deserve to be made partner. If you hadn’t been chosen, I would have started a riot. Not only are you a kick-ass trial attorney, but you bring more revenue and prestige to this firm than most of the senior partners! You know how to network and schmooze with clients like nobody’s business. And, like it or not, it doesn’t hurt that your father will probably be the next governor, and Beyoncé—BEYONCÉ!—personally calls you up to have lunch whenever she’s in town. Are you kidding me, Brandon? The partners would have been crazy not to promote you, and whether they admit it or not, everyone knows that!”

  By the time Addison had finished speaking, her face was beet red.

  Brandon gave her a long, assessing look.

  After a prolonged silence, a small, crooked smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “I guess you told me.”

  Addison gaped at him for a moment, then burst out laughing.

  Brandon chuckled. Addison might be Cynthia’s worst enemy, but one thing he’d always appreciated about her was that she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. He always knew where he stood with her, which was more than he could say about most of the other sharks he worked with.

  As her laughter subsided, Addison sighed and shook her head at Brandon. “Seriously though, Chambers. I know you may think your girlfriend is being unfairly persecuted, but I’ve heard grumblings even from people who happen to be huge fans of hers. If my colleagues believed I was slacking, I’d want to know. So at the very least, I think you should give Cynthia a heads-up.”

  Brandon inclined his head. “Maybe I will. Thanks.”

  “Any time.” Addison grinned. “You know, Kessler was wrong about you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, he said once you made partner, you’d start acting like you were better than the rest of us.”

  Brandon scowled. “Fuck Kessler.”

  Addison snorted. “Not even if you paid me.”

  They both laughed.

  Brandon’s cell phone rang. Seeing his best friend’s number on the caller ID, he plucked the phone off his desk and answered, “Wassup.”

  “Yo,” Dre greeted him. “I’m about five minutes away.”

  “Cool. I’ll meet you downstairs at Stogie’s. Justin and Cornel are running late—as usual.”

  Dre said slyly, “So I’ll have you all to myself for a while?”

  “Man, chill with that down-low shit before I tell Leah.”

  As Brandon hung up on Dre’s raucous laughter, Addison snapped her fingers. “Damn. I was hoping you didn’t have any plans tonight so I could talk you into having drinks with me.”

  Brandon sent her a wry smile. “Come on now,” he drawled.

  “What?” she asked, rising from the sofa.

  “You know you and I are never gonna have drinks together.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because around here, ‘having drinks together’ is code for fucking. And no offense, Addison, but I’m not interested.”

  Her green eyes glinted wickedly. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  She sighed. “Can’t blame a girl for trying,” she quipped before sashaying from the office.

  Five minutes later, Brandon had just boarded the elevator to head downstairs when Addison called out breathlessly, “Wait up!”

  He instinctively stuck his hand between the sliding brass doors to prevent them from closing as Addison raced inside, a leather briefcase in one hand and a small gym bag slung over her shoulder.

  “Thanks,” she panted with a throaty laugh. “I ran as fast as I could to catch you before you got away. With the elevator, I mean.”

  “No problem.” Brandon pressed the buttons for the lobby and the underground parking level.

  As soon as the doors slid closed, Addison began peeling off her skintight jeans.

  Brandon stared at her. “What the hell—”

  She laughed as she nearly lost her balance and had to lean against him for support to finish removing her pants. She quickly stuffed them inside her bag, then reached for the hem of her T-shirt.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Brandon demanded.

  “Relax, handsome.” Her amused voice was muffled as she tugged off her shirt to reveal pale, melon-sized breasts barely contained by a skimpy lace bra. “I’m meeting some friends at the club, and I forgot to change before I left the office.”

  “Likely story,” Brandon muttered, averting his eyes to stare up at the electronic monitor above the doors. But he was aware of Addison shimmying into a strapless black tube dress and stiletto heels, her sensual gaze willing him to watch her in the polished brass of the doors.

  After what seemed an eternity, the elevator reached the lobby.

  As Brandon stepped off, Addison said, “Oh, wait, I forgot to ask you something.”

  He glanced back at her.

  Pressing the button to keep the doors open, she grinned at him. “Aren’t you impressed by my perfect timing?”

  “Sure,” Brandon said drolly. “You must have a lot of practice undressing in elevators.”

  She laughed, combing her fingers through her tousled dark hair. “Not exactly. I just know how to multitask.” And she gave him a look meant to make him wonder how many other things she could do at once.

  “What did you want to ask me?” he prompted, impatience edging his voice.

  But she was suddenly staring across the lobby.

  Following the direction of her gaze, Brandon saw Dre striding through the double glass doors and heading toward the entrance to Stogie’s.

  “Isn’t that your friend Deondre?” Addison asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow, he looks great. Not all black guys can pull off a baldie like he can. And he looks really buff, too. Has he been working out a lot?”

  Before Brandon could shoot off some smart-ass remark, Dre glanced over and saw Brandon and Addison standing at the elevator. When Addison smiled and waved at him, Dre looked her up and down before raising his brows at Brandon.

  Addison snapped her fingers. “Damn. Just that quick, I forgot what I wanted to ask you.”

  “Then it probably wasn’t that important,” Brandon said wryly.

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Addison grinned coyly at him. “If it comes to me tomorrow, I’ll give you a call.”

  At the look Brandon shot her, she laughed. “Just kidding. Have a good time with your friends tonight.”

  “Thanks. You too.” He sauntered off without a backward glance.

  When he reached the other side of the lobby, Dre grinned slyly at him. “What was that about?”

  “What?”

  “You and your girl Addison, coming downstairs together on a Saturday night.” A suggestive gleam filled Dre’s dark eyes. “Were you up there tappin’ her off?”

  Brandon scowled. “Hell, nah. You know I ain’t down with no swirl action.”

  Dre chuckled. “Just checking, bruh. Even from a distance, I could see the way she wa
s looking at you, like she wanted you to fuck the shit outta her. And I can’t really say I’d blame you,” he added, casting another glance toward the elevators as if Addison were still there. “Shorty was looking sexy as hell tonight.”

  Brandon made no comment as they entered the dim interior of Stogie’s.

  Boasting mahogany-paneled walls, plush leather upholstery, and a bar stocked with top-shelf liquor, the swanky establishment had the look and feel of a gentlemen’s cigar club—which, technically, it still was. Though membership had been opened to women more than thirty years ago, females rarely ventured into the bastion of masculinity that was Stogie’s. The exception was on Saturday nights, when guys wanting to impress their dates brought them to the upscale restaurant.

  After greeting Brandon and asking about his father’s gubernatorial campaign, the maître d’ escorted him and Dre to the circular leather booth Brandon had reserved for the evening. A solicitous waiter appeared with their humidors and took their drink orders—a neat scotch for Brandon and cognac for Dre.

  As the waiter moved off, the two friends cut the caps off their vintage cigars and lit up.

  “So,” Dre began conversationally, grinning at Brandon across the glossy mahogany table, “how many times has wifey called you tonight?”

  Brandon puffed on his cigar, savoring the taste and aroma of the smoke before slowly exhaling through his nose. “What’re you talking about?”

  Dre laughed. “Nice try. You know damn well what I’m talking about. How many times has Cynthia called you while she’s been at the shower? And don’t say she hasn’t called, ’cause I know better.”

  Brandon shrugged, lounging against the plush leather cushions. “I’ve only heard from her once.”

  Dre eyed him knowingly. “Does that count text messages?”

  “Man, shut up.”

  Again Dre laughed, shaking his smooth bald head. “I knew she couldn’t go an entire night without checking up on you.”

  Brandon frowned. “She just wanted to say hello and see how my evening was going. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing.” Dre puffed on his cigar, eyes glinting with amusement behind a veil of smoke. “Remember how we used to tease her about being one of those independent, career-obsessed, don’t-need-a-man sisters?”

  Brandon nodded.

  “Well, that was before you started tapping that ass. Now you got her so wide open, she’d probably forfeit her law degree if you asked her to.”

  Brandon was silent as Addison’s words echoed through his mind. She seems more interested in having lunch with you than scheduling meetings with her clients.

  He couldn’t pretend that the remark hadn’t bothered him. When he and Cynthia first began dating, he’d worried that their relationship would interfere with their jobs. But Cynthia had assured him that she could successfully balance the demands of both, and he’d had no reason to doubt her. But now, in light of his conversation with Addison, he had to wonder whether he’d become a distraction to Cynthia. The last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize her chances of making partner after she’d worked so hard to achieve that goal.

  The waiter returned with Brandon and Dre’s drinks and asked them if they wanted to wait for the other members of their party before placing their dinner orders.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Brandon said, overriding Dre’s protestations of being hungry.

  After the waiter departed, Dre downed some cognac before grumbling, “I wish those niggas would learn to show up on time for once.”

  Brandon chuckled. “Come on, now. We’ve known Justin and Cornel since high school. Have they ever been on time for anything?”

  Dre grunted. “Good point.”

  Brandon sipped his scotch, then took a lazy drag on his cigar. “So how are things going with Leah?”

  “Man.” Dre pushed out a deep, weary breath. “It’s been rough.”

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  Dre glanced around the restaurant before confiding in a low voice, “Leah’s work schedule is taking a serious toll on our bedroom action.”

  Brandon’s lips twitched. “How serious?”

  “Let’s just say if I don’t run up in some pussy soon, my dick’s gonna shrivel up and fall the fuck off.”

  “Damn, bruh,” Brandon commiserated. “That is serious.”

  Dre glared at him. “So why the hell are you grinning?”

  “My bad.” Brandon covered his mouth, but the laughter escaped anyway.

  “You think this shit is funny?”

  “Nah,” Brandon rasped, laughing so hard that his words came out in fragments. “Believe me ... I understand what ... you’re going through.”

  “Nigga, please,” Dre scoffed. “Don’t patronize me. I know Cynthia be giving up the pussy on the regular. Not only do you two live together, but then you see each other all day at work. I still remember that time she was sitting on your phone while you were tappin’ her off on your desk, and the phone accidentally dialed my number. Man, I coulda killed your ass for rubbing your sexcapades in my face like that.”

  “Sorry,” Brandon said, using his free hand to wipe tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes. “For the last time, bruh, we didn’t know she was sitting on the phone.”

  “That’s even worse, ’cause that means the shit was so good, your girl didn’t even notice a hard object poking her in the ass.”

  Brandon grinned wickedly. “The only ‘hard object’ she cared about—”

  Dre groaned loudly, holding up his hand. “Don’t say it. Please don’t say it. Damn. I walked right into that one.”

  Brandon laughed. “You sure did.”

  Dre shook his head, scrubbing both hands over his face. “I’m telling you, man. I’m so damn horny I’ve even caught myself checking out Fiona, and you know how I feel about her motherfucking ass.”

  “Dayuum,” Brandon exclaimed, torn between amusement and incredulity. “You are in bad shape.”

  “Tell me about it. I’ve lost my damn mind, lusting after an ex-con who also happens to be one of our employees.” Dre scowled at Brandon. “I blame you and your damn brother for hiring her in the first place.”

  Brandon grinned, blowing out a thick curl of smoke.

  Last year, after resigning from his job at a corporate law firm, Beau Chambers had approached Brandon and Dre about partnering with him to form a sports management agency. He’d envisioned a one-stop-shop facility that would house the contract management offices, a barber shop, and a wellness center that could be overseen by Dre, who had a Ph.D. in sports medicine and worked as an athletic trainer for the Houston Texans.

  Brandon and Dre had been so impressed with the scope of Beau’s vision that they’d agreed to pool their financial resources to become his business partners. One year later, Pinnacle Sports Group represented several professional and collegiate athletes, and the wellness center had become so popular that Dre planned to leave the NFL after this season to devote more time to the center’s clients.

  Unlike Brandon, who functioned as a silent partner, Dre was very involved in the agency’s daily operations, which included making personnel decisions. When Tamia’s sister, Fiona, lost her booth at the hair salon where she’d worked for years, she’d come to Brandon for help. Remembering the great haircut she’d once given him when his regular barber was out of town, Brandon had called a meeting with Beau and Dre to recommend that they hire Fiona.

  Dre had been adamantly opposed to the idea, although his objections had more to do with who her sister was than Fiona’s criminal record. He hadn’t forgiven Tamia for the way she’d betrayed Brandon, so he considered Fiona guilty by association. But Brandon and Beau felt differently, and because they outnumbered Dre, Fiona had been hired.

  Dre bitched about their decision every chance he got, but his complaints fell on deaf ears. Fiona was one of the shop’s best barbers, and the clients enjoyed having a beautiful woman around. So she wasn’t going anywhere.

  Pointing his cigar at Dre, Bra
ndon warned, “Don’t even think about pushing up on that girl.”

  Dre shot him a look of disgust. “Nigga, please. I’m not that desperate. Shorty may be fine, but she’s young and hood as hell. And I’m not even sure she’s playing with a full deck,” he added, tapping a finger against his temple.

  Brandon grimaced. “She strikes me as more naive than anything else. I mean, yeah, she’s rough around the edges. But she has this childlike innocence about her, you know? It’s like she’s a little girl trapped inside a woman’s body.”

  Dre snorted derisively. “Yeah, and you should see the way she flaunts that body in front of the customers.”

  Brandon grinned. “I don’t hear anyone else complaining, bruh. So methinks you doth protest too much.”

  Dre sucked his teeth. “Whatever.”

  Brandon chuckled, sipping his scotch. “Anyway, cut Fiona some slack. She’s been through a lot and she’s trying to turn her life around, so I don’t mind helping her.”

  Dre eyed him knowingly. “Like you helped her sister?”

  “Sure.”

  “So that means you’re gonna hook Fiona up with a luxury apartment, too?”

  Brandon went still, staring at his best friend. “What’re you talking about?”

  Dre barked out a laugh. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. You’ve got Tamia staying over at One Park Place.”

  Shit, Brandon thought grimly. “How do you know about that?”

  “I overheard you and Lou making the arrangements a few weeks ago. And before you accuse me of ear hustling, it wasn’t even like that. Remember the night I met you at your office so we could ride to the Rockets game together?”

  Brandon nodded tightly.

  “Well, you had me waiting in the reception area for so long that I decided to head back to your office to see what was the holdup. You were on the phone with your back to the door, and that’s when I overheard your conversation with Lou. I didn’t say anything to you ’cause I figured if you wanted me to know about your plans, you would have told me.” Dre frowned, shaking his head at Brandon. “What the hell were you thinking, putting Tamia up in an apartment?”