Hook'd (9 page)

"Move in closer ladies! Yes, beautiful!"

The photographer snapped shots as Cam posted before the camera with two blonde beauties beside him. He stood before the white backdrop, clad in nothing but his gold boxing trunks and mitts, showcasing his muscular physique. Following the photographer's direction, he extended his arms at his side, while the bikini dressed models wrapped their arms around him, enveloping their thighs around his manhood in a seductive manner.

He had been granted the opportunity to grace the cover of the highly publicized, sports magazine, CROWN. His PR game had been on 100. These past few months, he had been all over the media, from doing TV appearances, radio, to magazine covers, sharing his side of the story. If it was up to him, he would remain silent on the whole thing. But with such a major scandal, remaining silent would only do more damage to his career. And he couldn’t afford that. Things already seemed to be looking up for him. By the grace of God, he had been able to gain his boxing license back. Something he never thought would happen. So, although he hated all this publicity, he had to do whatever he could to clean up his reputation for the world to see, and it was going to take hard work and endless effort to do so.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, that's a wrap! Great job, everyone." The photographer announced and everyone applauded.

Relieved to be done, Cam stepped off the set. He had been here for almost 3 hours, and he was more than ready to hit the gym. The stylists began untying his boxing gloves, as the make-up artists dabbed his face with a fresh rag.

"Aye yo, Bug!"

His 21 year old, assistant, hurried to him in an instant. "Sup?"

"Any missed calls or messages?"

He scrolled through his phone. "Uh, yeah. Slick called, said he wanna meet with you later on this week. Said it was something important. And uh, the club promoter said he can’t meet with you today, but he's willing to reschedule anytime you're free. Oh, and Vance said he won't be able to make it to the party, but have fun for him."

"What about the brown skinned shorty? Any missed calls?" Cam asked.

There was no need to specify, he knew who he was referring to.

"Let me check..." He scrolled through the phone. "Uh, nah."

"None at all?"

"Nope."

"Give me the phone," Cam ordered, when his hands were finally free from the gloves. His assistant handed him the phone, and Cam searched through his history, in hopes of seeing her name but there was no trace at all.

His mood dampened.

Damn.

She was really dodging his calls. He thought after their business arrangement, they would've at least hit it off. He couldn't lie, it was a shot to his ego. He was so used to women bowing down to him. Left and right. And for her to treat him like some regular ol' Joe, even after he wined and dined her at one of the most expensive 5 star restaurants in the city, and on top of that, agreed to sponsor her measly organization, he felt played.

He should’ve just let it go. Fuck it. He had never been the one to chase a woman who didn't want to be chased. He didn't have the energy. Nor time.

But then again...there was just something about her. He wanted her.  No doubt about it. And in some deep part of him, he knew she felt the same.

That kiss.

That was all the confirmation he needed. The way she kissed him, her lips pining with desire, he knew. He definitely knew. No, matter how much she pretended she didn't feel anything. And due to his competitive nature, he wasn't about to just give up so easily. Since she wanted to play the petty game of cat and mouse, he'd gladly do so.

*

A sudden knock on the door broke Reese's concentration. She let out a sigh, frustrated. Clearly, she wasn't going to get any work done with all of these disruptions every five seconds.

"Come in."

The door opened and Naomi peaked in.

"Sorry again, for the disturbance. But you have another gift."

"Didn't I say get rid of it?" She sifted through her paperwork, not even bothering to look up.

"Yeah, but...it's anonymous."

Reese paused and looked up. Naomi slid inside the office, holding up the small decorated gift bag.

She waved her inside. "Let me see that."

Her brown skinned, afro haired, assistant walked toward her desk, as Reese stood up. She took the bag from her, staring at the nameless tag attached to it.

"Is it from a special someone?" Naomi said sweetly.

Rese gave her a stern look, and her smile faded.

"Uh, anything else I could do for you, Ms. Wilson?"

"Have you finished faxing out the paperwork I told you to do?"

"Um, not yet. I'm almost—."

"Well, finish it. And I'll call you back in when I need you, thanks."

Naomi nodded and stepped out of the office, shutting the door behind her. Reese opened the gift bag to see a small white box and a card buried under the tissue paper. With a raised brow, she took out the box and opened it, only to grow more confused. She slowly picked up the keychain, attached to two miniature boxing mitts designed with the cartoon characters, Tom and Jerry. It suddenly made sense to her.

The boxing gloves...

Of course.

She opened the envelope and read the note inside.

How much longer are we gonna keep playing this game?

She read the words over again, wondering what it all meant. She then glanced at the keychain, then the note again. When the message became clear, she blushed.

Cute.

Real...cute.

She plopped in her seat, shaking her head. Didn't he get the hint? Their deal was done, they had nothing else to discuss. Just weeks ago, his foundation had donated 2.1 million dollars to Free the Heart. And it was well appreciated it. However, that was it. They had both fulfilled their ends of the bargain. There was no need for him to continue reaching out to her.

Obviously, Mr. Lewis couldn't take no for an answer.

She picked up her cell and dialed his number.

"Oh, she finally answers. Hell must be freezing over right now."

She rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. "So, I'm guessing you didn't get the hint."

"What hint?"

"That I'm not interested."

"Ouch, damn. You hear that?"

"What?"

"My heart breaking."

She stifled another smile. "Anyway, I got your gift."

"Oh, you did huh?"

"Yeah. The whole cat and mouse thing, real cute.”

"I try."

"What do you want, Cameron?" She leaned back, gnawing the top of her pen.

"To see what's up with you. Whatchu doing later?"

"Why?"

"I got a little party at my house tonight, and I want you to come."

"A party?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm."

"What, you don't like to party?"

"I do. Just not the type of partying you're into."

She heard about Cameron's wild ways. The last thing she needed, was to step into some sex filled party with nothing but weed, naked strippers and rowdy men.

"Don't worry, it won't be nothing too crazy. Just a few friends, some drinks, food, and some music. You'll have a good time."

She twirled her pen as she stared out her window, contemplating.

"I'll think about it."

"Bruh, when I saw shorty's face the next morning, I swore I woke up to the Scream mask. I ain't slept right since."

The air filled with laughter. Cam fell over, unable to even breathe. Just hearing his good friend, Bryson, recount a funny story about a woman he met in Vegas last weekend, had him damn near in tears.

Tonight, he had thrown a get-together at his New York City penthouse with about 40 of his closest friends in attendance. No slew of celebrities, apart from the very few he was close with. Just the realest people he knew. From his entourage, some friends from his old neighborhood, and of course beautiful women. Every now and then, he threw intimate parties like these. It always felt good to be around some genuine people. They helped to keep him grounded. It was so easy to get caught up in the world of Hollywood, and even he had fallen victim many times in the past. But ever since his prison stint, he realized that there were only so very few people he could trust.

The party was held on the terrace. With the bartender serving drinks at the bar, the chef preparing exquisitely cooked food, and the DJ playing music from the booth, everyone seemed to enjoy the festivity, as they ate, drank, lounged, and conversed amongst themselves.

The warm summer night air deemed perfect for the occasion. He was posted up against the balcony, with his closest friends, Deshawn and Bryson. They had been at his side, since day one. All from the same neighborhood, they shared countless memories together, good and bad. Each playing a major staple in his life. They had supported him through his most trying times, and were the only few that kept him in check whenever he got too caught up in the lifestyle of fame.  They were his brothers. And for that, he would always be there for them. No matter what.

"That's why from now on, I tell bitches to wash their makeup off before I hit, real talk," Bryson continued.

"You can't be serious, man." Deshawn replied.

"I'm dead ass serious. Shit, you never know what a chick really looks like underneath."

"Aye, that don't sound like a bad idea." Cam laughed, taking sips of his drink.

"Speaking of which, I definitely see some bad bitches up in here though." Bryson rubbed his hands, scoping the women in the party. "Gotta give you props bruh, you always keep some A1's around you."

"It wouldn't be my party without 'em." He shrugged.

Not before long, Cam checked his phone again for the millionth time. No sign of her. With a sigh, he slipped it in his pocket. He didn't even know why he was even stressing it. He had a handful of gorgeous women here. A man's wet dream. He had no reason to even be worrying about—

The sudden buzz in his pocket halted his thoughts. He pulled out his phone and looked at his screen. His mood lightened at the sight of her name, and he read the message.

Reesezilla
:

12:30 am, 6/14/14

I'm here.

A smile lifted his lips. Just like he expected. He quickly typed his reply.

Cam:

12:30am, 6/14/14

Iight I'm on my way

*

Sexy wasn't even the word to describe her. The way her deep purple strapless dress emphasized the curvature of her frame, topped off with her black high inch stilettos that emitted her sexiness even more, he was captivated.  Her smooth bronze skin seemed to glow against her purple attire, and the way her short spiky hair brought out her beautiful features, she couldn't look more flawless even if she tried.  Her ample ass looked more than delicious through the satin material with its perfect, round shape, drawing his lustful gaze by the second. It took all the restraint in the world not to pin her up against the wall and drill her from behind. It pleased him to know she wore that tonight, just for him. Amongst all the women he invited to the party, she definitely reigned supreme.

He didn't even expect her to come out tonight. It threw him by surprise to see her standing in the main lobby waiting for him. But he was glad she did.

The sudden ding arose, as the elevator ascended to the next floor. Reese let out a deep breath, fluffing her hair through the reflection of the golden doors. He watched her, amused. She had been fidgeting since she got here.

"Nervous?"

She tucked her purse under her arm. "No, just wondering what the hell I'm getting myself into."

"Don't worry, you're gonna have a good time."

When they arrived on the 43rd level, his floor, they stepped out of the elevator and entered his foyer. She mumbled, 'wow' under her breath at the sight of his spacious home. His chest swelled with pride. The one thing he deemed an accomplishment, apart from his championship titles, was his penthouse. The 14 million dollar duplex, located in the heart of Manhattan, was a long way from the desolate projects he was used to. Now he could enjoy the luxury of his 2 bedroom home, built with a living room, open kitchen, 3 bathrooms, game room and a gym.

As her heels clicked across the black marble floor, she took notice to everything. The spiral staircase leading to the upper floor, to the white sofas in his living room, his large 50 inch plasma screen TV, his paintings, grand piano and more specifically the beautiful view of the New York City skyline, through the expansive glass windows circulating his home.

She was impressed. He could see it in her face.

"Want a tour?"

She blinked away. "It's fine."

"Well the party's this way."

He led her toward the back. They stepped onto the terrace, only to be welcomed by the upbeat sounds of rap music blaring the air. More people seemed to have loosened up now. With some dancing, others lounged around, laughing and chatting. Just what he liked to see. Reese scanned the place tentatively. He touched her lower back, grasping her attention.

"You want something to drink?" he spoke in her ear.

She nodded.

"What would you like?"

"Uh, I'll take a Rum and Coke."

"Alright, I'll be back," he told her before walking toward the bar.

"Aye, Pete," he called to his most trusted bartender.

"Si, amigo?" the dark haired, Peruvian listened, wiping the table with a rag.

"Let me get a Goose on the rocks, and a Rum and Coke."

"Sure thing, boss." He grabbed a glass and prepared the drink.

Cam leaned his back against the table, peering at the crowd. And there he found Reese at the corner, seated on the plush seat by her lonesome. She sat upright, with her hands linked around her fidgeting knees, glancing around. He shook his head. She looked so tense. He had to loosen her up somehow.

"Aye Pete, make sure you add more Rum to that Coke."

"Gotchya." He nodded, following his request.

When Pete slid him the drinks, he thanked him and left the bar. He approached her, now holding two glasses, and sat next to her.

"Here you go." He handed her the drink.

"Thanks," she said briefly, taking it from him.

He leaned back and took a sip of his drink, watching her. As she tasted hers, she scrunched her face.

"It's strong." She smelled it with a frown. "Too much rum."

"Want me to take it back?"

"No, it's fine."

He eased with relief.

"So, what made you come out tonight?"

"I have no idea." She placed her glass on the small round table. "Must be losing my mind."

"Nah, you made the right choice."

"Well, I have to admit I thought it would be worse than this."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I expected naked strippers."

"Naked strippers?" He laughed.

She nodded, sliding her hands under her thighs. A particular area he kept being drawn to.

"And why's that?"

"Because, isn't that how you usually party? Naked strippers, rowdy men throwing dollar bills—" She gasped in shock. "Oh my god."

"What?" he said, concerned.

"Is that who I think it is?"

"Who?" He followed her gaze ahead.

"Jill Scott?”

"Huh?" He took notice to his good friend, Ms. Scott, lounging at the corner, socializing with two of her friends. "Oh, yeah it is."

"I love her."

"You wanna meet her?"

She froze. "Meet her?"

"Yeah."

"Uh, I don't know. I wouldn't know what to say."

"Don't even worry about it. She's cool. C'mon." He stood up.

"Wait, I don't think I shou—"

"I promise she won't bite."

She gnawed her lip for a moment, thinking.

"Fine." She picked up her glass and gulped her whole drink down. He couldn't help but laugh.

He then led her to Jill Scott and introduced her. And Jill welcomed her with a warm hug, as Reese expressed how much of a big fan she was. While they conversed, he ordered another drink at the bar. He then made his way to Reese and handed her a glass of Pineapple Cîroc. Too enthralled with Jill's presence, she took it without question. She must've been too nervous to care. Probably, even grateful for it.

He then approached his boys, Deshawn and Bryson, who were cuddled up with four models by the balcony.

"Nigga, who is that?" Bryson asked, blowing clouds of his spliff.

"Word, where'd you find her at?" Deshawn chimed in.

"Met her through my publicist."

"She a model or something?" asked Bryson.

"Nah. Some CEO of this organization my charity is funding."

"Oh word? Damn. She's a bad one. You hittin' that?"

"Nah. Just business." He leaned against the railing, staring at her. She seemed to be much more at ease now, smiling with glee as she spoke with Jill. He couldn't even pull his eyes off of her. She had such a beautiful smile. The way it managed to just radiate her entire face, emitting such a warm light that could make even the coldest man melt to mush. He wondered why she didn't smile more often. She was so much sexier when she did.

"Nigga, yeah right."

He turned to Bryson who shot him a distrustful look.

"It's never just business with you. Be real, you tapping some CEO pussy, ain't you?"

"And is it good?" Deshawn added.

He smirked, finishing the last of his drink.

"I already told ya'll, it's just business. Anyway, I'll check ya'll in a bit," he said lastly, before walking away. He approached Reese as she and Jill parted ways.

She spun to him. "Oh my god, guess what!"

"What?" He asked, wondering why she was so jittery.

"Jill just offered to sing at the concert for my organization. I didn't even have to ask her, she just offered to do it. Just like that. Do you know what this would mean to Free The Heart if she were to sing? Gosh, that would mean everything!"

"Uh, that's good."

She bit her lip with a smile. "C'mon, let's celebrate."

She grabbed his hands before he could utter another word and dragged him to the bar. She stumbled into the table, but quickly regained her balance.

"Let me get a shot of Tequila please," she ordered then spun to Cam. "And what would you like?"

Before he could respond, she waved him off. "Actually, he'll have one too."

He gave her wary look, her behavior odd.

"Uh, you good?"

"Mhmm, couldn't be better."

When the bartender handed her the drinks, she took her shot. Gasping out a breath, she patted her chest at the strong taste.

"Whoo!" She slammed the glass down, then frowned at him. "Aren't you drinking yours?"

"Nah, I'm straight."

"Fine, I'll have it." She took his and gulped it down. "Whoo!"

He grinned, watching her. He could tell the effects of the liquor were hitting her now. He probably should've stopped her out of courtesy, but just seeing her this way entertained him.

"C'mon let's dance."

She grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor.