Too Close for Comfort (6 page)

“Did you see the car Titus has for sale outside his shop?” Monya asked, as they unloaded stuff out of the car and took it inside.

The salon was coming together nicely. True to his word, Lincoln had the place gutted, painted, and floored in a matter of days. The plumbing had been done, and things were moving along swiftly. They walked inside to the sounds of Babyface blasting from the boom box.

“No, I didn't see it,” Yaya answered.

“Girl, how about—it's a gold Benz. I don't know what year, but it's got your name written all over it. You better call him and see what's up.”

“Yeah.”

Any other time, Yaya would have had her brother's best friend, Titus, on the phone in minutes, trying to find out about the car he was selling at his body shop. She didn't really care about anything these days, feeling as if she was going through the motions.

She missed Jason terribly. She thought that, by now, they would have at least spent some time together. She had only talked to him twice, since he'd decided, “I need some space.”

It was hard going home after a long day of preparing for the salon's opening and not being able to share it with him. She wanted to get his opinion about the decisions she was making, and more than anything, she needed his support, not to mention the warmth of his body next to hers.

“Uh, I thought we agreed no major purchases until we've been open for a year,” Taryn said. “Unless I come across a convertible Jaguar for a steal, that's the only exception.”

“Whatever,” Yaya said.

“Yaya, I need for you to get some excitement about you, girl.” Taryn looked up from the mirror she was hanging. Since meeting Lincoln, all of a sudden, she was always present during the entire reconstruction process of the salon. “How does that look?”

“It looks fine,” Yaya said, barely paying her any attention. She placed the bags in the middle of the floor and walked off.

“Yaya, don't leave them there! Put them—”

Yaya walked back out the door. The parking lot was crowded with cars and trucks of guys who were waiting their turn at
Q
-Masters. A little boy was going back and forth, trying to do tricks on a skateboard.

She opened her trunk and took out more bags. She closed the trunk and turned to go back in the building.

CRASH
!

Before she knew it, she was on the ground along with all the bags. The palms of her hand were killing her. She shook her head to make sure she was still conscious. As she looked up, she saw what she had tripped over and who it belonged to. The red skateboard lay near her legs.

“Sorry,” the little boy told her.

Infuriated, Yaya got up. She ignored the blood coming from the palm of her hand and grabbed the little boy by the collar. She snatched the door of
Q
-Masters open and screamed, “Who the hell does this ‘bébé kid' belong to?”

Everyone froze in their spot and stared. No one moved; it was as if they were waiting on her to say something else.

“Whose rug rat is this?” She held on tighter as the little boy tried to get away.

“Ouch!”

“Get your hands off my son.”

Yaya turned to see a tall man dressed in a brown uniform approaching her.

“Does this belong to you?”

The man wore a look of anger that almost made her take a step back. “I told you to get your hands off my son.”

Yaya looked down at the little boy, terrified. She didn't know if it was because of her or his father. She released his shirt, and he quickly stepped away.

“Yaya, don't come in here trippin',” Jarrod said to her.

“I ain't come in here to trip. I came in to see who was it that left their child unattended in the parking lot of my establishment, playing on a damn skateboard at that.”

“Carver, didn't I tell you to leave that skateboard in the car?”

“Yes, sir.” The little boy lowered his head.

“Look at me when I'm talking to you,” the man demanded. “Go wait for me outside.”

The little boy looked up at his father. “Yes, sir.” Then he turned and told Yaya, “Sorry.”

Yaya looked at him. “It's cool.”

“I realize my son may have been in the wrong, but that ain't give you the right to handle him the way you did.” The man's gaze fell on her bleeding hands. “And the next time you put your hands on someone else's child, you may wanna make sure your hands are clean—I like to keep my rug rat neat.”

Yaya looked down at her scraped and bleeding hands.

Before she could respond, the man had walked out the door.

“Dammmmmmmnnn,” Jarrod, the other barbers and the customers all said at the same time.

Yaya rolled her eyes and stormed out. She walked back over to her car, where her bags were still laying on the ground. She bent over to snatch them up.

“Let us help you with those.” The man and his son reached to pick up her bags.

“No. I got it.”

Either he didn't hear her or ignored her reply. Not only did they pick the bags off the ground, he reached and took the bag she was holding out of her hand.

She walked into the salon, and they followed her.

Lincoln was installing a light fixture over the mirror Taryn had hung. “What's up, little man?”

Yaya saw that he was talking to the little boy. “Hey, Uncle Linc,” he said, smiling.

“Where do you want these?” The man was still holding the bags.

“Oh, you can put them over here,” Monya answered. “Not in the middle of the floor like some people.”

“Your hand is still bleeding.” The man placed the bags against the wall.

“I'm fine.”

“What happened?” Lincoln peeked at Yaya's hand.

Carver started telling them what happened, before Yaya could open her mouth.

Yaya could see the adults suppressing smiles, and wondered why she was the only one who didn't find it funny.

Taryn shook her head. “Yaya, I know you did not do that.”

“Carver, what did I tell you about running your mouth?”

“No, Daddy—Uncle Lincoln asked me what happened, and I was just telling him—I didn't tell on her or anything.”

“Fitz, this is Taryn, that's Monya, and the bleeding girl who yoked your son up is Qianna, also known as Yaya. Don't worry . . . she ain't as hard-core as she thinks she is. You know
Q
?—that's his sister. This is their salon, After Effex.” Lincoln went back to screwing the fixture. “Ladies, this is my brother, Fitzgerald, we call him Fitz.”

“Nice to meet you,” Fitz told them. “Well, I gotta get outta here. What you got going on later?”

“I'll be here late. Trying to get these ladies up and running by week after next,” Lincoln told him. “Taryn says she's gonna hang out and help me out tonight.”

“I'll stay too,” Monya announced.

Taryn looked over and gave her a dirty look.

“Feel free to come by and help your bro out,” Lincoln told him.

“You already got enough free labor with these three.”

“Uh, make that two,” Monya corrected. “You know Yaya ain't staying and doing jack.”

Yaya gave Monya the dirty look this time, causing everyone to laugh. “Go to hell.”

“I may come back through,” Fitz said as he walked out the door.

Lincoln hopped off the ladder he was standing on. “Let me holler at you before you go, in case you don't return.”

“God, I thought Lincoln was fine,” Monya squealed after they walked out the door.

“Lincoln is fine,” Taryn added, “but I gotta say, Fitz is sexy as hell. That man is gorgeous.”

Yaya looked out the window, silently agreeing with her compadres.

Fitzgerald and Lincoln had the same height and build, but where Lincoln's complexion was the color of chocolate, Fitzgerald's was the color of honey, with grey eyes. Instead of a baldhead, Fitz had shoulder-length dreads neatly pulled back. His sex appeal was evident even in his walk.

She watched the two brothers talking and laughing in front of the Honda Accord station wagon Carver was sitting in.

“I think he looks better than his brother—what do you think, Yaya?”

“He's a'ight,” Yaya lied, and turned away.

Lincoln returned and announced, “My brother wants to know what's up with you.”

“Who?” Yaya asked, after neither Taryn nor Monya responded.

“You,” Lincoln told her. “I don't know why.”

“Because she's the bomb, that's why,” Taryn told him. “Is he coming back?”

“What's up, Yaya? You betta holla at your boy . . . because he is fine.” Monya giggled.

“I don't think so.” Yaya looked at them like they were crazy. “You know he's not my type.”

“That's exactly what I told Fitz when he asked.” Lincoln laughed. “There's no way. You're not his type.”

“What does that mean?” Taryn put her hands on her hip.

“I guess the same thing it means for her,” Lincoln answered. “Why isn't he your type?”

Yaya was getting irritated. She was already in a funk, and they were getting on her nerves. She walked over to the small sink and began washing her hands. “Look, first of all, I have a man.”

“I thought you and Jason broke up,” Monya said.

“No, we didn't; we're just on a break.”

“Isn't that a breakup?” Lincoln looked at Taryn.

“No, it's not. We're just taking some time apart; there's a difference. But even if I didn't have a man—which I do by the way—I wouldn't date him. For one, he's light-skinned.”

“Ohhhhhh,” Monya groaned.

“You both know I don't find light-skinned guys attractive, come on. And then, he has dreads, of all things—another turn-off.”

“You're crazy.” Taryn shook her head.

“And you both know he has the other thing that I don't do, so don't front like you don't know me better than that—never have, never will. I'm outta here.” Yaya snatched a paper towel out of the dispenser and walked out without saying another word.

“What's ‘the other thing' she doesn't do?” Lincoln looked at both Taryn and Monya.

“
Baby mama drama
,” Monya said.

“The moment she found out Carver was his son, any hopes he had of getting with Yaya were out the door. He doesn't have a shot in hell,” Taryn added.

On the way home, Yaya drove by Titus' shop to see what Monya was talking about. Sure enough, parked in the lot was a shimmering gold Mercedes Benz C-Class, another one of her dream cars. Peering through the windows, she saw it was more than she'd imagined. It would be the perfect addition to her collection, which already included her champagne Lexus and her first car, a silver Honda Prelude coupe.

She had to have it.

She whipped into the parking lot and hopped out. “Hey, where's Titus?” She asked the guy at the counter.

“He's out of town for a minute. Won't be back for about three weeks. Can I help you with something?”

“Nope. I'll call him on his cell.” She walked out.

She tried to reach Titus, but only got his voice mail. She called
Q
and couldn't reach him either. She looked back at the car once more. “Don't worry, baby, Mama is coming to pick you up soon.”

“Did you call your brother?” Paige asked, flipping through the latest issue of
Essence
.

“Yes, I did. He knows I'm here,” Camille answered. She was making a big bowl of popcorn for Myla and Jade, who were upstairs deciding on a movie.

“Are you telling the truth?”

“Do you think I would lie about something as serious as that, Paige? I'm appalled that you would even think that way.” Camille put her hand over her chest and gave an obvious fake gasp.

“Get over it—What did Marlon say?”

“As usual, he tried to lecture me about invading your space, and when he realized I wasn't giving a crap about what he said, he was cool with it. I think living with both Lucille and Kasey is kinda overwhelming him.” Camille laughed.

“I can imagine.”

“Why don't you go out and have some fun?” Camille suggested.

“Girl, please . . . do you know what happened the last time I went out?” Paige gave her a knowing look.

Camille smiled. “You met Quincy, right?”

“Well, true, but I was talking about the whole robbery at gunpoint thing, remember?” Paige thought about the last time she and Nina were headed to the club, stopping at a convenience store to get some cash from the ATM at the exact moment it was being robbed at gunpoint. Ironically, Quincy was also in the store at the same time, the first time they met.

“Okay, that was kinda messed up. And when I said, ‘go out and have some fun,' I meant go and hang out with Quincy. Not everyone can say they have the luxury of a live-in babysitter.” Camille shook salt on the popcorn.

“You know you're not a live-in babysitter, Camille. You know I don't even think of you like that.” Paige laughed. “Why don't
you
go out and have some fun?”

“Because, unlike you, I don't have a fine man to spend my Friday nights with. You have a life, I don't. You should go have a sleepover of your own.” Camille winked and headed up the steps with the bowl.

“I know that's not a booty bag in your hand?” Quincy smiled as he greeted Paige at the door.

“No, it's not. These are my gym clothes.”

“Well, this ain't the gym.” He laughed.

“I can always put it back in the car,” she said, taking a step backward.

“Don't even think about it.” He grabbed her and pulled her inside, where she dropped the bag in the middle of the floor and wrapped her arms around him.

He kissed her on the mouth, their tongues tasting one another.

She had wanted him so bad. Things had been tense between them since their lunch date earlier in the week.

Whenever they talked on the phone, it seemed as if he wanted to talk about Marlon and the house situation, which was the last thing she wanted to discuss. She had even found herself making excuses for getting off the phone, something she never had done before. Coming to see him in person was a surefire way to get their relationship back into the right perspective.

She bit his bottom lip, sucking it and reaching under his shirt.

“I thought you had to babysit this weekend?” He panted as he nibbled on her neck.

Paige moaned as his tongue found the sensitive spot on her collarbone. “Camille is at the house with the girls. She told me to come have a sleepover.”

“I knew I liked her for a reason,” he whispered. He lifted Paige off the floor, and she wrapped her legs around him. She could feel his hardness pressing against her, which made her wet.

He was about to carry her up the steps, when she stopped him. “Wait,” she said.

“What?” He looked at her, thinking something was wrong.

She eased off his body and smiled at him. She removed her shirt and skirt, revealing the black lace bra and panty set she wore.

The grin on his face and the bulge in his crotch let her know that he liked it.

She took a few steps upward and then leaned back, reaching up and pulling him toward her.

Understanding exactly what it was she wanted him to do, Quincy wasted no time taking off his shirt and pants. Once again, he kissed her passionately, caressing her hard nipples through the lace.

She licked his shoulders and neck as she opened her legs and placed his fingers there.

He pulled the lace to the side and fingered her wetness.

She groaned. Her fingers made their way to his penis.

In an instant, he shifted his body and tasted her.

Paige grabbed the railing, fearing she would slide down the steps in a fit of ecstasy. Her head rolled back and forth as his tongue went deeper and deeper inside her.

“Q, stop, I can't take it anymore. I want you, please.”

Quincy stopped and smiled.

She loved the look of longing in his eyes. Feeling naughtier than usual, Paige turned her back to him, now kneeling on the steps in front of him. She looked back and spread her legs ever so slightly.

“It's like that?”

“If you can handle it.” She bit her lip sensually.

Quincy put his arms around her waist and entered her from the back, causing her to gasp.

They rocked back and forth on the stairs for what seemed like hours. When they climaxed together, it was so forceful, that Paige literally screamed.

Panting and sweating, they both collapsed.

“Did I handle it?” He asked, trying to catch his breath.

“It was okay.” She laughed and mustered enough energy to rush up the steps to get away from him.

Later that night, after a dinner of Chinese food in bed and more lovemaking, Paige slept in Quincy's arms. The sound of her cell phone ringing on the nightstand caused her to stir.

She looked over and saw that it was Nina calling. “Hello,” she said, groggily.

“Paige, it's me.”

“I know. What's wrong?”

“I need for you to come and get me.”

“Huh?” Paige said, making sure she was hearing Nina right. The clock next to her told her it was well after three in the morning. “Where are you?”

“I'm at the Marriott.”

“The what?”

“The Marriott at the Pier—Don't ask any questions, just come get me.”

“I'm on my way.” Paige looked over at Quincy, who was still sleeping soundly. She eased out of bed and slipped into one of his T-shirts and her jeans.
The things I do for this girl
.

She got into her jeep and drove down the street.

When she arrived at the hotel, Nina was waiting right out front. She tried to see if she could tell if her friend had been harmed in some way, but on the outside, Nina looked fine. She was fully dressed in a pair of slacks and a silk blouse. Her hair and make-up were still in place. She opened the door and got in.

“You all right?”

“I'm fine. Thanks for coming to get me.” Nina sighed. She sat back and didn't say anything.

Paige turned the radio up, knowing Nina would talk when she was ready.

Sure enough, Nina asked, “Okay, am I one of these stupid women who seem desperate for a man?”

“Uh, no.”

“Then why the hell did I just go through what I went through?”

“What did you just go through?”

“The evening started out great—Craig and I went to dinner, had a few drinks—he made me laugh—went dancing at State Streets, had a few more drinks. I'm telling you, Paige, this was one of the best dates I've been on in years. He's funny and attentive, and I was all over him.”

“Okay . . . so then what?”

“He suggests we take a walk down the pier—You know I love romantic shit like that. We go for a walk, he holds my hand, we get to the end of the pier, and he tells me how special I am. We start kissing—you know I'm horny as hell by now—I haven't had none in months.”

“I know.” Paige laughed.

“I swear, Paige, out of nowhere, this brother pulls out a room key and points to the Marriott and says, ‘You wanna join me on the twenty-fourth floor? It has a great view.' I was shook.

“He takes my hand, we go to the hotel. Not only does he have a room, Paige, but it's a suite, and it's already decked out with rose petals in the Jacuzzi, champagne and strawberries already chilling, R. Kelly playing on the CD player.”

“Wow! Like that?”

“Hell yeah, ‘like that.' You know me—next thing you know, I'm sitting on the edge of the tub, eating strawberries, and he's in the tub eating me.”

Paige couldn't help laughing.

“It's not funny,” Nina whined.

“I know. I'm sorry,” Paige said, regaining her composure. “Go ahead.”

“Check this out—As soon as he lifted me out the tub and placed me on the bed, somebody starts banging on the door. You know I freaked the hell out. I thought it was the police, and I started asking him if he had some warrants!”

“Shut up!” Paige stifled a laugh.

“Paige, why does he tell me, ‘Calm down, it was just my wife'? He then tries to get me to go in the bathroom and hide while he got rid of her! He leaves out the room, and I hear them arguing in the hallway. Five minutes later, he comes in and says, ‘I took care of it.'”

There was no holding back her laughter now. Paige looked over at her friend. “Nina, come on now, if that happened to me, you would be cracking up too.”

Nina didn't crack a smile as she continued with the story. “I told him he was crazy. I got dressed, grabbed my phone, and got out. I called you while I was in the elevator. How about when I got to the lobby, this chick is sitting there talking to the bellhop about, she's waiting on her husband to come out with his mistress—You know I was tripping.”

“Is she still there?”

“Hell no, if she was there, do you think I would've been chilling out front waiting on you? It's not meant for me to find a good man.” Nina sighed in frustration.

“You have a good man—you just don't want him because he's short,” Paige teased.

They pulled up to Nina's townhouse.

“Not funny. Thanks a lot. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“Talk to you later.” Paige hugged her best friend.

When she arrived, Quincy was still asleep. She quickly undressed and slipped back into bed as if nothing happened.

The next afternoon, while she was curled in Quincy's arms watching movies, Marlon called. She excused herself and went into the kitchen to take the call.

“Hey, what's up?” he asked.

“Nothing. What's up with you?”

“I just got your message. You said you needed to talk. Anything wrong? Something going on with Myla?”

“No, she's fine. I just wanted to talk, that's all.” Paige decided to throw him a bone. “I really want things to be right between us.”

“Oh, really? That's all I want, Paige.”

She could hear the smugness in his voice.

“There has to be a way that you and I remain friends, Marlon. Our friendship was always the most important part of our relationship, you know that.”

“I do know that, Paige. I still love you—that's never gonna change—and I'll always be there for you and Myla, no matter what, I promise.”

“I appreciate that, Marlon. That's all I really wanted—to clarify where we stand with each other. The situation between me, Kasey, and your mother has nothing to do with you. And if there's anything that you and I need to deal with, then we can do that.”

“I know. That's how it's always been between us.”

“Thanks, Marlon. I guess I'll talk to you later.”

“All right. If you need anything, you know you can call me. And kiss Myla for me.”

“I will.”

She knew she had baited him. Now she needed to reel him in, which she planned to do quickly. And his payback was coming hook, line, and sinker.