Chapter Twenty-Six
Alizé
T
his
is the last thing I need right now.
I feel like every eye is locked on me as I walk towards Cameron's office like my ass is going to war. I wish the paper balled up in my fist was his damn neck.
“Good morning, Monica,” Delaney says as I breeze right on past her desk. “You can't go in. He's on a phoneâ”
I turn the knobs to the massive double doors leading to his office and they swing open like I have super powers. Humph. Just call me Angry Woman because I am pissed off.
Cameron looks up at me and his face becomes surprised. “Let me call you right back,” he says to whatever insignificant person he's on the phone with.
“How could you, Cameron?” I ask him accusingly as I toss the crumpled paper at his face.
He swats it away and rises quickly to walk around the desk and towards the open doors to close them. I watch his every movement as I turn. He storms right up to me until we are standing face to face. “How could you tell
my wife
that you plan to fuck me and then send me home for her to suck your juices off my dick?” he asks in a crude voice.
I tilt my chin up as I meet his eyes. “Why did you tell the bitchâ”
“Monica,” he interrupts sternly.
I give him a “say what” look. “Why did you tell
that bitch
that I tried to stop the wedding?”
Cameron threw his hands up in the air. “First off, I didn't tell my wife that another woman came to me before our wedding to stop it but if I did why would you care. Hell, it's the fucking truth!”
If he said “my wife” one more damn time, I'm gone to really flip the fuck out. “You transferring me out of the department is fucking with my career. I had every intention of leaving you and your wife alone, she came into my office.”
“You are messing up your own career, Monica, by sexually soliciting your supervisor, arguing with your supervisor's wife, and basically acting unprofessional.” Cameron walks past me and back around his desk to reclaim his seat. “You're lucky you are just getting transferred and not fired from this internship.”
I begin to bite down on my bottom lip as my chest heaves with emotion. I hate to admit it but he's right. This scheme to win him back is not a part of my master plan. And frankly, I'm tired of Cameron making it clear as hell that he loves his wife and not me. Monica “Alizé” Winters doesn't chase any damn man. Fuck the dumb shit.
He's staring at me with this look that is way too caring but I don't even let it get to me. Enough is enough. Serena Lemons-Steele can have her husband.
Without another word or look in his direction, I turn and walk away.
“Monica,” he calls out.
I don't even stop or turn or nothing. Fuck him.
As soon as I park the car outside of Dr. Locke's brownstone, I lift my hips to take off my panties. The summer breeze feels good against my thighs as I climb out of the car in a silk print wrap dress. Nipples hard. Stomach flat. Just the right amount of leg peeking through the split. Luckily for me, the winds didn't send my skirts up and expose my ass to any Tom, Dick, or Harry walking or driving by.
I climb the stairs of the brick duplex. I'm just reaching the top step when the front door opens and Dr. Locke walks out onto the front stoop. I smile and lick my lips as I start to pull the flap of my dress up my thigh. “Hungryâ”
“Hello, Miss Winters. Did we have an appointment that I forgot?” he asks in that professional voice that is nothing like the way he sounds when he is begging me to spank him before I fuck the hell out of him.
My eyes shift past him to a round as hell, short woman with grayish short hair walking out behind him. The sight of her makes me ease that dress right back down. Plus, the crazy look on his face and his lie gives a sistah like me the distinct feeling that I am face to face with Mrs. Locke. “Yes, my parents and I thought our meeting was today. They're on the way actually,” I lie as I cross my arms over my hard as hell nipples pressing through the thin material of my dress. I threw in the parents just in case she's wondering what the hell a sexy bitch like me is doing showing up to her husband's office unexpectedly.
“Actually, my wife and I were just headed out and I don't have any appointments for the rest of the day.”
She gives me this smile that reminds me of my grammie and I feel a tiny twinge of guilt because I am fucking the hell out of her husband like I'm on a damn mission.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Locke,” I say, keeping one arm folded over my chest as I reach with the other to offer her my hand.
She takes it. It's soft like the type of hand you want to comfort you when you're crying or hurt or lonely. It's that special touch only a grandmother has. “Nice to meet you too,” she says softly. “Hunt, I'll wait for you in the car.”
And like that she walks down the steps leaving us alone momentarily. She trusts her husband.
“I have to go but you look amazing,” he tells me low in his throat for my ears only, standing there with his hands in his pockets with that blasé psychiatrist look on his face.
I remove my other arm and his eyes instantly drop to my nipples. I see that look come into his eyes and right now I could care less about anything but having him. “Can we reschedule another appointment and then I can call my parents and tell them not to come?” I ask loudly.
He looks at his watch (fronting like a motherfucker). “My scheduling book is inside,” he says, pretending to sound reluctant before he holds up his hand to his wife. “I'll just be a minute, baby.”
With my back safely to her, I roll my eyes as he turns, unlocks the door, and leads me inside. As soon as he closes the solid wood door and locks it behind us I bunk my ass up right there on the bottom of the steps that lead to the second level where he holds group sessions. I wiggle my ass as I politely toss my skirt up exposing my ass.
He slaps it with one hand but motions for me to turn. “You know I cum faster when you ride.”
He drops his pants and takes a seat on the step. I climb right on that dick and began working my hips like I'm trying to win a damn hoola hoop contest. Sweat pops on the top of his bald head and steam covers his glasses as I enjoy the feel of his hands on my ass, his lips on my hard nipples, and his hard dick pressing against my clit.
In no time at all we both are kissing each other to keep from hollering out too loud as we cum together. Even though we rushing I don't stand up until I work my pussy walls and squeeze all the hardness and cum from his dick. Humph. It's good to the very last drop. Fuck Folgers.
I don't say another word to him while I straighten my skirt over my hips and push my titties back inside my bra. I got what I wanted. Wet ass and all, I strut right out that hallway and give his wife a friendly smile and a wave before I hop in my ride and haul ass with a squeal of my tires.
Girl Talk
A
lizé, Dom, and Moët were enjoying the warmth of the end of spring in New York as they walked up Fifth Avenue doing more sightseeing than shopping. As they walked up to Saks a cab pulled up to the curb and a young man hopped out followed by a five-year-old boy they assumed was his son. They watched as he bent down to pick the boy up into his arms.
He looked up at them with a smile as he crossed their path to walk inside the store. All three of the ladies smiled in return and each of their smiles was melancholy.
“I wish my father had taken me out for a daddy-daughter day,” Moët said, as they continued up the busy New York avenue. “I hope that Bones takes advantage of having his daughter and builds a relationship with her like that, you know?”
“Well, my daddy and I had plenty of that âquality time,' ” Alizé added as she reached into her Ferragamo tote for her shades. “But I swear I could do with a little less daddy-daughter time these days 'cause I am sick of his lumpy-ass couch and being an ear witness to his freak show with his fiancée. Can we say thicker doors, Daddy?”
Dom and Moët stopped walking to look over at Alizé and say, “Eew.”
Alizé slipped on her shades. “Eew is right.”
Dom ran her long acrylic fingernails over her short spiky hair as she bit her bottom lip and let the troubles that she felt fill her eyes. “I would take either one of your daddy problems compared to my shit. I mean what's fuckin' worse: growin' up without a father at all because he cracked out or findin' out that he off livin' a wonderful new life with a new family?”
“Dom, you really should talk to him and hear his side of the story,” Alizé offered as they stopped at the corner.
Dom reached inside her khaki military-style shirt for her soft pack of Newports. “I know I do but first I got somethin' else to take care of.”
“Whatever you decide just make sure it's right for you,” Moët added.
Dom nodded as she let out a stream of smoke. “Good, 'cause this might be the hardest shit I ever had to face, y'all.”
Both Moët and Alizé lock their arms through hers as they all crossed the street. It was their way of letting their friend know that they had her back.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dom
“U
hm . . . uhm . . . uhm. Look what the cat done drug back home.”
I'm standing there lookin' at my mother and feelin' like it's a damn shame that I don't miss her even though I ain't laid eyes on her since last year. And being here, back in this wild-ass project, surrounded by shit I'm runnin' from is so fuckin' hard for me. But I don't have no choice.
“Can I come in?” I ask, noticin' that the entire Baby Phat outfit she wearin' is mine. When I moved out I left more clothes than I took.
Diane is forty goin' on damn twenty. She never felt like a momma. She was more like a big sister. We talked about men and money. We used to smoke weed, drink, and party togetherâand those were the good times. I tried not to remember how bad she treated me when I was too small for her ass to hang out with. The names she used to call me. The way she used to make me feel like she didn't want my ass.
And now this shit that I come to handle today.
She steps back to let me walk in. I look around at the new furnishings in the apartment. Diane always kept a bad ass apartment and she obviously ain't lackin' for shit without me. So I know her “get money” mentality ain't changed a bitch because Diane ain't gone ever hit a fuckin' lick at a stick on someone's job.
“Where's my grandbaby?” she asks with attitude as I sit down on the new brown leather sofa.
Safe from your crazy ass
, I think. But I say, “She's with the girls.”
She rolls her eyes as she struts across the room. “I haven't seen her in a good minute. You would think your ass woulda broughtâ”
“Who is William Kennedy?” I ask her. Fuck it. I want to get right to the point.
Diane makes a face as she walks over to the kitchen counter to pick up a black ashtray. “Who?” she asks as she picks up the lit cigarette in the tray.
Somethin' 'bout the way she shifts her eyes away from mine makes me think she straight lyin'. “The man who came to my job and told me he's my father. The man whose daughter looks like me and Kimani. The man who showed me a picture of his motherâwho I look just like. Don't play games, Diane, 'cause William Kennedy is somebody you fucked twenty-two years ago.”
That fake-ass confused look on her face changes to fuckin' blasé as she lays down on the couch and watches me through a stream of smoke she releases through her pursed lips. “That motherfucker is crazy out his ass,” is all that she says. “Your daddy ain't no fuckin' William Kennedy and I thought I got that through to his dumb ass way back when.”
I just stare at this crazy bitch.
“Me and your daddyâ”
“Which one?” I ask as I squeeze my keys so tight that it pinches the damn flesh of my palm. “The one you say is my daddy or the one that is,” I snap.
She sits up as she stares at me all angry and shit. She points at me with that lit cigarette between her fingers. “Why you all in my space and my face fuckin' with me 'bout this
bullshit
now?” she asks as she rises to her feet to glare down at me.
“I got every right to know if my real daddy is some ex-drug dealer turned dope fiend or not,” I shoot back at her as I rise to my feet too. I don't put it past her to try and fight me.
“Why you all up in my business, Dom?”
I look at her like she really is crazy. For real. “Your business?
Your
business? Why everything got to be 'bout your ass? This ain't planet Diane so get up off yourself.”
She leans back with attitude and looks at me like she ready to step to me. Then her face changes again and she is lookin' calm. Too fuckin' calm. She raises her hand to take another drag of her Newport. “You know what, I
was
fuckin' both them niggas and either one coulda been your daddy, but I went with the one that paid them bills and treated a bitch the way she needed to be treated. I went for the baller shot caller and not the broke motherfucker who ain't had shit goin' for him but a big dick. I put my head before my pussy. If I did pick the wrong motherfucker as your daddy . . . so the fuck what.”
I feel like I can snap her neck without blinkin'. “No, your ass played eenie-meenie-minie-moe with my fuckin' life!” I shout at her as tears fill my eyes because I hate her. I hate her so much.
Diane looks at me with so much anger in her eyes. “You act like you had it so rough but you don't know shit about the hard knock life, baby girl. I did what I had to do to take care of your ass and if it meant slob or rob I took care of you. So don't stand here cryin' like you had the worst life ever.”
“Are you crazy out your ass or what?” I ask her. “You know there was a chance that man was my fuckin' daddy and you just said fuck it 'cause he ain't have enough money. And then the top dog drug pen you pick turns out to be a fuckin' junkie and broke as hell. You threw it in my face my whole damn life that my daddy wasn't shit and I was just like him and the whole time you knew he might not be my fuckin' daddy.
Bitch
, you crazy. You crazy as hell.”
I just got the hell out of her face before I straight throw a twopiece and lump her ass up real good. I reach the front door when somethin' crashes against the wall. I turn and look at the glass shattered on the wall over the chair. I cut my eyes over to Diane and the tears runnin' down her face shock my ass.
She starts to walk towards me with her finger pointed at me and shakin'. “You try being gang raped at eight,
bitch
. You try having your own momma teach you shoot her up with dope,
bitch
. You try sleeping on top of subway grates to keep warm 'cause your junky mother got evicted again . . .
bitch
. Don't you fucking tell me about your hard ass life. I kept a roof over your head, food in your belly, and clothes on your ass,
bitch
.”
Diane is standin' in front of me with her chest heavin' and shit. The smell of liquor and cigarettes is hot on her breath. I feel sorry for her but it's time for the realness. “The roof, the food, or the clothes . . . they wasn't enough 'cause most of all I wanted your love and you didn't give it to me. You took the only chance I had to feel loved and wanted when you took my daddy away from me before he ever had a fuckin' chance.”
I swipe away my tears and get the hell out of there. As soon as the heavy metal door closes behind me, my legs give out and I let my body slide down to the floor while I cry like I ain't ever cried before.