Authors: Rochelle Alers
“I
’ve got a bone to pick with you,” Electra whispered sotto voce when she slipped into the rear of the town car next to Seneca.
“What are you talking about?” Seneca whispered back.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were dating Phillip Kingston?”
Seneca glanced at the man who was about to become her ex-husband. When they’d stopped to pick up Electra and her boyfriend, within a minute of introducing Phillip to the couple Jayson had launched into an in-depth discussion of basketball.
“I wanted to surprise you.”
Electra pushed out her lower lip. “Well, you did. How is he?”
“How is he how?”
Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, Electra didn’t want to believe her roommate was so gauche. She was dating one of the most beautiful men on the planet; meanwhile she acted
as if he was nothing more than the young college student who bagged groceries at their local supermarket. As much as she wanted to break into the movies as a serious actress, she would give it all up for the man known as King Phillip of the hardwood.
“Fuhgeddaboudit,” she drawled in her best Brooklyn dialect.
Seneca laughed. “We’ll talk later.” She closed her eyes, feigning sleep while listening to the conversations going on around her. Mixed emotions assailed her when she realized this weekend would signal the end of her relationship with Phillip, although they’d promised to remain friends. A friend she’d married; a friend with whom she’d shared the most incredible sex.
And she’d been forthcoming when she’d told Phillip that sex wasn’t enough to save their marriage. There had never been a time when she hadn’t enjoyed making love with him, but she wanted and needed more than multiple orgasms. She needed him to love her, trust her and above all else support her enough to help her realize her dreams.
The smooth motion of the car lulled her into a state of total relaxation, and she temporarily shut out everything going on around her, including the expression of pain in Phillip’s eyes whenever their gazes met.
Booth Gordon’s summer rental was magnificent. The six-bedroom, six-bathroom farmhouse was built on a rise overlooking the ocean. A household staff of four was on hand to see to the needs of Booth’s guests.
Rhys had arrived, and he and the woman who looked young enough to be his daughter were assigned the bedroom next to the one where Seneca would stay with Phillip. Electra and Jayson were across the hall, and Luis and Mitchell, who’d
come unaccompanied, were in bedrooms at the rear of the house. Seneca looked around for the young woman who’d looked so forlorn at Booth’s dinner party. When she got the opportunity to ask Mitchell, the photographer said he’d heard that Booth had given the needy woman her walking papers.
Mitchell, resplendent in white linen, leaned in close to her. “Be careful, Seneca. Even though I know you’re involved with Phillip, that doesn’t preclude Booth from trying to hit on you.”
Seneca met his resolute gaze before he slipped on a pair of sunglasses. “Phillip and I are just friends.”
“Either you’re a better actress than I’d imagined you to be or you’re an incredible liar.” Mitchell ran a finger along the curve of her delicate jaw. “The camera doesn’t lie, beautiful. You and your baller were on fire during that shoot.”
“It’s called acting, Mitchell.”
“Don’t try and shit me, Butterfly,” he drawled. “You don’t have to worry. Your secret is safe with me.”
Seneca spied their host as he walked out onto the patio where a small crowd had gathered. Booth was hosting an afternoon soirée for his guests and several neighbors, and later that evening everyone would drive a short distance to attend the birthday celebration for the movie director whose films were viewed in the industry as innovative, revolutionary and avant-garde in the same breath. It was the reason why she’d wanted to invite Electra and Jayson. Meeting the director would offer them an opportunity to talk to the quixotic film-maker about their projects.
She signaled to Booth, smiling as he closed the distance between them. Like his guests, he wore lightweight loose-fitting attire and sandals. A light breeze off the ocean ruffled his shirt and slacks.
Slipping her hand in his, Seneca squeezed his fingers. “I need to talk to you where no one can overhear what I want to tell you.”
Booth blanched under his deep summer tan. “Please don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”
Seneca gave him an incredulous look. “Of course I’m not.”
“Come with me.” Booth steered her away from the rear of the house to a side door that led directly into a room off the kitchen that doubled as a pantry and laundry room. He flicked on a light and locked the door behind them. “What’s going on?”
Leaning her hip against a table, Seneca told Booth every thing, from leaving his condo, going with Phillip to his hotel suite, their going to Vegas to marry before the shoot, and the reason why she wanted to annul their short-lived marriage.
Booth rolled his eyes. “If you’d told me this I wouldn’t have put you in the same room with him.”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
A savage curse escaped the agent’s compressed lips. “I thought Kingston was smarter than that.”
“Don’t blame him,” Seneca in defense of her husband. “We never should’ve married. If I was thinking beyond the next orgasm I would’ve rejected his proposal—at least until I’d gotten to know him better.”
Flashing a sardonic smile, Booth shook his head. “That’s no guarantee, baby. I’ve been married twice, and each time I thought I knew my ex-wives, but something would jump off where we were unable to work through it, so it was the lawyers who made out like bandits when they charged me through the nose to get rid of them.” He sobered. “Did you have a prenup?”
“No. It doesn’t matter, because I don’t want Phillip’s money.”
Booth’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. “The man’s a fool. He could’ve had it all—a beautiful wife, half a billion in endorsements and a multimillion dollar basketball contract—yet his fuckin’ insecurities had to blow it.”
It was Seneca’s turn to lift her eyebrows. “We’ve decided to remain friends.”
“No, Seneca. That’s not going to happen. The man has confessed to being obsessed with you, so you continuing to see him will just feed into his sick shit. He’s one of those guys who believe if they can’t have you, then no one will. You will cut the ties after this weekend. And I’ll talk to Kingston and let him know the deal.”
“What makes you think he’ll listen to you?”
The blue-green eyes hardened like stones. “He’ll listen to me. I’ve saved his ass more than a few times when he got a little too rough with several of his girlfriends.”
“What do you mean about
too rough?
”
“Either that or Kingston doesn’t know his own strength, because some of them wound up with some pretty nasty bruises.”
Seneca’s mouth opened, and she wasn’t able to utter a word, recalling the two times she’d had to warn Phillip about grabbing and holding her too tightly. She would be hard-pressed to explain the bruises if she were to do a shoot.
“Okay, Booth. I’ll stop seeing him.”
“Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“You’re not lying to me, are you, Seneca?”
The seconds ticked as they stared at each other. “No.”
Booth gave her a thin-lipped smile. “After the Super Bowl
ad airs I’m certain you’ll get tons of offers to appear with him again, but that decision will have to be yours.”
“Do you think it would be wise to work with him again?”
“You’re going to have to learn to separate business from personal. If you’re going to feel uncomfortable working with him, then I’d say don’t do it. But, if not, then go for it.”
“I need you to answer one question for me, Booth.”
“What is it?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Phillip’s proclivity for roughing up women?”
“I don’t involve myself in my clients’ private lives until they involve me. I’ve been in this business long enough to see how young men become victims to their own hype. Either they come from a single-parent family or from one where their parents are struggling to make ends meet, then suddenly they’re being bombarded with offers from people for more money than they could ever hope to earn in ten lifetimes.
“There are the cars, jewelry, drugs, mansions, and let’s not forget the women. Women who would never give them a second look if not for their multimillion-dollar contracts. It doesn’t matter if they come from the projects or the trailer park, it’s just too much for them to digest. I picked up Phillip because he was different. He comes from a good family, he’s intelligent and without peer when it comes to making three-pointers. But unfortunately, he feels the need to hurt women every once in a while, and mark my words, there
is
going to come a time when I’m not going to be able to cover for him. You’re a young, beautiful woman, Seneca, and I’d hate for you to have to give up your career because some man decided to rearrange your face.”
Seneca couldn’t stop the audible gasp when she processed what her agent had just revealed. “He hit them in the face?”
Booth nodded. “Not only did he have to pay their medical bills but he agreed to pay them for pain and suffering to the tune of millions. He had to give one ten million. His only consolation is that the money is paid out over twenty years—half a mil for each year. If she decides to get diarrhea of the tongue, then she’s cut off and legally must repay what he’s given her.”
“Why don’t you turn him in?”
“You have to remember that he’s not beating my ass. It’s up to the women to press charges.”
Seneca recalled the first time when Phillip grabbed her and she’d threatened to sue him if he’d bruised her. Little had she known that other women
had
sued him. She said a silent prayer of thanks that she’d gotten out unscathed.
Looping her arms around Booth’s neck, she pressed a kiss to his smooth jaw. “Thank you for telling me.”
Booth’s hands went to her waist, and he resisted pulling her closer. “You and Phillip are my clients, but morally, it’s my responsibility to protect you from him. When you told me you’d married him I freaked. That’s why I cautioned you about telling anyone. You say he didn’t hit you, and that leads me to believe that hopefully he’s learned his lesson.” He kissed her forehead. “Let’s get back to the others before tongues start wagging about us sleeping together.”
Seneca sucked her teeth loudly. “That’s never going to happen,” she said confidently. She walked out into the bright sunlight, leaving Booth to follow a minute later.
Talking with the agent was enlightening
and
frightening, only because she’d been unaware that the man she’d been sleeping with and had married was an abuser. She forced a brittle smile when she returned to the large tent that had been set up to protect everyone from the harmful rays of the hot summer sun.
Seneca sidled up to Phillip when he stood in line waiting for the bartender to take his beverage request. “I know everything,” she said in a quiet voice.
Phillip angled his head, staring at his soon-to-be ex-wife as if she were a stranger. “What?”
“Booth told me about the other women,” she continued sotto voce. “After this weekend I think it best if we do not see each other again. Get some help, Phillip, or you can kiss your dreams of becoming a doctor bye-bye.”
Phillip, who’d decided it was better not to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about, nodded. “I’m seeing a therapist.”
Seneca placed a hand on his back in a comforting gesture. “Good for you.”
“I was going to tell you—”
“Don’t, Phillip. It’s okay.”
“The first time I saw you,” Phillip continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “I knew I wanted to marry you. All I thought about was you having our children and our growing old together.”
Turning on her heel, Seneca walked away from him. She’d heard enough. His obsession was frightening, and she feared what he could possibly do to her. There was no way she was going to share a bedroom with him ever again.
Thankfully, she’d packed the clothes she’d left at his hotel suite and her luggage was stored in the trunk of the limo that would take her back to Manhattan. She bumped into Luis, who caught her before she lost her balance.
“¿Cómo estás, Mariposa?”
“Do you mind sharing your bedroom with me?”
“What’s up?”
“Answer the question, Luis.”
“Of course you can.”
She grabbed his hand. “Come and help me move my things.”
Luis’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on, Seneca?”
“I just don’t want to share a room with Phillip Kingston.”
Luis recognized fear in the eyes of the woman who’d become the inspiration for most of his creations. “Okay. I’ll help you move your things.”
Seneca chewed her lower lip, praying not to break down. “Thank you, Luis.” The skirt of the ankle-length tank dress swirled around her long legs as she and Luis returned to the house.
Phillip watched his wife and the designer through narrow eyes until they disappeared from his line of vision.
“Now is the time to let her go,” said a familiar voice next to him. He turned to see his agent standing only a few feet away.
“What if I don’t want to let her go?”
A feral smile twisted the agent’s face. “You will let her go, Kingston, or you’re done with a capital D.”
“Don’t worry, Gordon. I’m not going to hurt her.”
“I know you’re not, because if anyone’s going to get hurt it’s you. I’m tired of cleaning up your messes, Kingston. And I blame myself for letting you go after Butterfly.”
“Butterfly?” he spat out. “You’re nothing but a greedy bastard, Gordon. This is not about Seneca.”
“You tell me what it’s about, Kingston.”
“It’s the money. Everyone who signs with BGM is nothing more than a dollar sign to you.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Booth rocked back on his heels. “Listen and listen well, my
boy.
I didn’t sign a document stating I wouldn’t divulge the details of your physical
altercations with several women who will remain nameless. Fuck with me and I’ll not only drop you, but I’ll also make an anonymous phone call to a friend who works for a newspaper that thrives on salacious gossip. I told you before. Even if you were my one and only client, I’m not going to stand by and let you hit another woman. What is it going to be, Kingston? Are you going to stay away from her?”