Love UnCharted (Love's Improbable Possibility) (8 page)

“I think we should all go and see who comes back with the most numbers,” Mark’s eyes were just as big as his damn belly in excitement. “Shit! This could be fun like old times, only Jacobs, you won’t win so easily with that thick Brooklyn accent. We have Alpha brothers coming from all over the country and with all types of swag. So, you won’t have the advantage.”

“Fuck! I’d beat all your asses out. I’ve been known to rack up AKAs. You know NaTasha’s one.” Eric raised his eyebrows.

“I ain’t fucking with y’all, man,” I muttered, much under my breath. “Why in the hell does everything end up with wagered bets between us?” I protested.

“Yeah, Jacobs, like when we bet you that you could slam Kristen Johnson, the transfer from Yale, and we watched from the closet when you had her head hitting the hard ass headboard in the dorm. That shit was awesome!” Eric reminisced at my expense.

“Oh, yeah! Remember when we walked in on Jacobs banging the shit out of two Deltas at the same time in the shower,” Mark shrieked, walking up on me while adjusting the glasses on his face. “Do you still get pussy like that?” Eric stopped taking shots on the pool table to wait on an answer.

“Man, fuck y’all.” I laughed hysterically. “I am thirty fuckin’ seven years old. I don’t need pussy like I did when I was nineteen. I’m good with quality over quantity.” My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. I saw it was Rayna calling. As I answered, I informed the guys, “I gotta take this,” and walked towards the stairs.

Eric whispered, “Is Rayna quality because she can keep up with your energizer bunny ass or does she have platinum between her legs?”

I flipped him the bird while walking up the steps.

“A.D. Jacobs. How may I help you?”

“Thanks for the iPad, A.D.” Rayna’s voice was calm, a little seductive even.

I grabbed my suitcase from the foyer and made my way up to the second floor in search of a  vacant room. I was impressed with the house and having Rayna in my ear put me in the mood to go house shopping.

“No problem. Did you see the inscription?”

“
Ms. Rayna Brimm, property of A.D. Jacobs
,” she read from the back of the iPad. “I like that,” she hummed into the phone.

“Oh, yeah? What about it?”

“Oh, you know…”

“Ummm…no, I don’t. Do tell,” I urged.

“My vagina being considered your property. That’s the only thing you can be talking about because last I checked, nothing else about me had an owner.”

“Fair enough, but you do know wherever your vagina is so are you, right?”

“Correct you are,” she quipped.

“So, I can get a two for one’er on that?”

“Hmmmmm…we’ll see. You can’t barter deals from so far away.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t read your eyes. I need to see them; they’re the entryway into your soul.”

“Hence the iPad. We could always Facetime from your phone, but the iPad will give you a better view.”

“Ohhh!” I could tell she caught on to the idea. “Well, let me fire this baby up for a test run. How does ten tonight, my time sound to you? You think you’ll be up for a little Facetiming?” she asked with a hint of promise in her voice.

“Bring it,” I egged her on just before checking the time to be sure I’ll be ready.

“Okay. I’m going to warm up dinner and feed Azna. I’ll hit you up once I’m showered and ready.”

“Girl, don’t start nothing I can’t finish,” I groaned.

“Oh. If you need, I’ll coach you into finishing.”

“Indeed.”

“Later.”

~~~~~~~~~~

I ended up at the Stamford Plaza Hotel about an hour later with Mark and Eric. The gazebo was nicely lit with heavy energy adding to the ambiance. The early autumn weather was fair, but I kept my blazer on. Fine ass black women of all shades, sizes, hair lengths, and textures wearing green and pink were all over the place. In many ways it felt like a candy shop.

The Alpha men were not as uniformed as the women. I’ve always appreciate seeing dignified African Americans gathered. I offered to order a round of drinks for me and the fellows, but Mark intercepted, insisting on treating everyone for the evening. I had a keen suspicion that he was still hoping for us to implement that bet of getting the most telephone numbers. Even by the way he attempted to buffer the bet by saying I could simply discard them at the end of the night, but I ain’t with that kiddie shit. I just figured I’d come out to extend my time with my friends.

Black women age so gracefully so it was difficult to tell who was of what graduating class. I started out making rounds with Eric and Mark and being introduced to their frat brothers and some of their sorors as well. I couldn’t take Mark’s salivating at every woman he encountered and Eric’s perverse whispering in every chick’s ear thinking it was appealing. I discreetly backed out of their company and played the bar. I was feeling a little buzzed and didn’t want to blow up their spot and embarrass them by clowning them.

As I checked the e-mails on my blackberry, the bartender called out to a guy near me, telling him that his drink was ready. The guy couldn’t hear him over the music and was walking off, so I pivoted quickly, trying to tap him to get his attention, only I accidentally elbowed a short stocky woman who cursed under her breath. When she turned to catch a glimpse of the perpetrator, as luck would have it, her eyes softened.

“I am so sorry about that. I wasn’t aware that you were right behind me. Let me buy you another drink,” I offered. She stood there motionless, batting her lashes. Then I noticed the woman across from her, frantically wiping the spilled drink from her shoes.
Shit!

“I’m sorry about your shoes as well. Your next drink is on me,” I announced. The second woman was tall, light, and had long shoulder length hair. She seemed more concerned about her shoes to even acknowledge my apology or offer, but the first shortie had begun smiling from ear to ear.

“Thank you.” She was all breaths and teeth under dark red lipstick. “Are you here alone?” she asked flirtatiously, looking around me.

“No,” spilled out of my mouth without a thought. Her smiled turned upside down and to my relief. It was at that moment that I had mentally decided to get out of there.

My phone rang, giving me the perfect escape from my short-lived conversation with
short and stubby
. I pulled it out, turned back over to the bartender and threw him a fifty spot for their drinks as I answered. It was Rayna, asking technical questions about setting up her e-mail to go to her iPad. I could tell she’d started acquainting herself with the gadget. I couldn’t wait to get her ass naked on my screen. I gave her the instructions and we got off. I took a final swig of my drink and decided to text Mark and Eric to tell them that I was out when I felt a tap at my shoulders.

Bracing myself for another round with
short and stubby,
I was shocked as hell when I saw Dawn Taylor, standing before me, looking extremely tall with a fitted, hues of pink sweater mini dress and open toe sling back suede emerald Giuseppe’s, giving her at least five inches. Her slender chocolate legs were bare, shiny, and toned. Her hair was in its usual untamed curls and she wore pink lipstick on her puckered lips.

Dawn Taylor was a bad bitch and she knew it. She had been coming for me and hard, but I’d been ignoring her advances for obvious reasons related to my current relationship status. And also because she and her girl, Shayna Bacote, who had just launched their new PR firm were actually talented prospects.

I’d been on the market for a PR team for a couple of years to help me out with my brand. I’ve hired a few freelancers, but no one impressed me enough to lock into a contract. These girls came with fresh and cutting edge marketing ideas for Cobalt, the rec, and even my corporation. They had connections, but needed viable clients to build their repertoire and as an entrepreneur, I understood that. However, even if I was single, I wouldn’t risk a solid business relationship by fucking an associate. That shit never worked. But I’d be damned if I lied and said she wasn’t tempting.

“Ms. Taylor, yet another surprise,” I admitted, not so jolly as I am one drink past tipsy.

She slanted her eyes with a sexy smile, “I like when you call me that.”

“Call you what?”

“Ms. Taylor.”

“Do you now?”

“Yes.” She giggled. “It makes me feel sophisticated.” She removed a tendril from her eye. I watched as her face went from seductive to pensive. “Are you here alone?”

“Yes and no.”

As soon as those words left my mouth, Mark and Eric’s slightly drunk asses came my way. I chuckled to myself as I saw they were holding each other up with Mark being damn near a foot shorter than Eric. They were certainly a pair.

“Yo, yo, yooooo, Jacobs!” Eric sang as they approached me. Dawn backed up, startled by their outburst. “Do you know what this prick just did?”

“Easy. Don’t you see a lady in our presence,” I calmly scolded.

I didn’t want them to say anything about either one of them trying to score some ass and embarrassing the hell out of me any further. I loved my dudes, but they were definitely a different breed.

“Oh, my! We’ll excuse me, my scrumptious chocolate drop. I hope you didn’t feel the slightest bit of disrespect. There is no way that common men such as ourselves could ever feel worthy of being in the presence of your exquisite beauty. Are you a soror of ours?” Eric said before reciting their Greek chant. Mark followed behind him.

Dawn was cool about it and returned her sorority intone. She turned to look at me, I had assumed, for answers.

“My escorts. Eric Garrity and Mark Richardson,” I introduced. She greeted them and then turned back to me with big eyes and lungs filled with air. I cut her off, “Oh. And no. I’m not Greek. Not my thing.”

She released the air and seductively twisted her neck, “Well, what is your thing? I’ve been trying to figure that out for a while now.”

In my peripheral, I could see Mark nudging Eric and Eric’s mouth swinging open. My phone rang again. This time it was Brett calling with important information about my travel. I knew he wouldn’t be available for long that evening so I had to take the call.

I answered the phone, “Brett? Yeah, hang on.”

I looked over to Dawn and answered her question, “Merging and acquiring at the moment.” Her brows furrowed as she chewed on my words.

Then I peered over to Mark and Eric, “I was just about to tell you that I’m gonna head back over to the house. I have a few contracts to read over and an important call from the West Coast that I have to take soon. I’ll have the car come back and collect you whenever you’re ready.” I gave them dap. “Thanks for inviting me out, my dudes.” I guess, sensing my sudden flux, they didn’t say much outside of agreeing to my plan.

Dawn looked greatly disappointed. I knew better than to keep blowing her off and that very soon I would have to give her an ultimatum, but I was hoping to consider their offer and see which way the wind blew me first. I reached over to her and gave her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek before taking my call and walking back out to the car.    

Back at the house, I quickly showered and set up my control center in the television room so that I could get some work done. I was tired, but anxious to knock out a few pertinent action items before Rayna’s called. I’d poured myself a glass of brandy to help me relax. If there was anything that could unwind me it was work, and if there were an abundance of anything in my life
it was work
.

Once I was done renewing contracts with a few of my vendors, I pulled out
Bacote & Taylor’s Planning and Public Relations Corp
. proposal. This preliminary contract was to launch the re-opening of Cobalt. The earnings of the club were declining. We were riding the initial high wave of the novelty of being a new and trendy club on Santa Monica Blvd, but three other clubs in the vicinity had opened since us and clientele is finicky. People are typically with the hype and if you aren’t new or innovative, you aren’t hype. I wanted to launch with fresh ideas and mainstay themes.

Taylor and Bacote were very promising. Much of the proposal read as their verbal pitch did, just more in detail. They even introduced suggestions for minor cosmetic upgrades to the bathrooms and bar. They have record label connections that were similar to mine, only they were driving hard at adding live performances to our identity by having someone there weekly. I hadn’t thought of that. I needed to know if it would increase my liability and therefore change my premiums. I made my notes with my infamous green pen, that denoted money, when the doorbell rang. I thought it was strange that the guys didn’t have their keys, but figured they were too drunk to even know.

I swung the door open, prepared to cuss their asses out when I found the radiant Dawn Taylor shivering and rubbing her hands against her arms.

I jolted. “Come in. What are you doing here?” I asked as I moved aside to let her through the door.

“Trying to make sure you’re a man of your word. I want to walk you through the proposal and take any questions you may have on the spot. That’s door-to-door treatment for ya.” Her lips were quivering, making it difficult to focus on anything else.