Betrayal (11 page)

“Another appletini?”

“Nah, give her something stronger.” Shanell eyed Tamia. “A ‘Wild Wet Dream.' Heavy on the rum.”

As the waiter nodded and moved off, Tamia gave Shanell a wry look. “Don't forget I have to drive home.”

“Girl, you'll be fine. You just need something to take the edge off.”

After Tamia's new drink was served, she and Shanell fell silent, sipping their cocktails as they observed the crowd of young singles packed into the trendy bar. An attractive caramel-toned brotha seated a few tables away was blatantly staring at Tamia.

When their eyes met, he smiled flirtatiously and winked at her. She flashed a cool smile before looking away, not wanting to encourage his attention.

Catching the exchange, Shanell chuckled. “I bet he's gonna buy you a drink.”

“I hope not.” But even as the words left her mouth, Tamia saw the guy whispering to the waiter, who glanced over at Tamia and grinned.

She groaned.

“Told you.” Shanell laughed, licking salt off the rim of her empty margarita glass. “That reminds me. You know Gavin's been asking Mark about you. He said the last time he spoke to you, your boss got on the phone and told him you had to work late.”

Tamia rolled her eyes. “That was Brandon, acting like a jealous fool.”

“I figured as much. That man is hella possessive over you. God only knows what he's gonna do when you start seeing other people again. Which brings me back to Gavin. Now that you're . . . available, maybe you could give him another chance.”

Tamia sighed. “I don't know. Gavin's a really nice guy and all—”

“But he's not Brandon.” Shanell smiled ruefully. “I hate to break it to you, girlfriend, but there aren't too many Brandons out there. That brotha's one of a kind—the rare total package.”

Tamia glowered at Shanell. “Is that supposed to make me feel better about losing him?”

Shanell was spared from answering when the server reappeared with the drink from Tamia's not-so-secret admirer. “The gentleman wanted me to tell you that he'd love to give you another ‘Wild Wet Dream'—just name the time and place.”

As Shanell burst out laughing, Tamia smiled sweetly at the waiter. “Tell him the place is nowhere, and the time is never.”

“Ouch.” The waiter grinned before moving off.

Deliberately ignoring her admirer's hopeful gaze, Tamia slid the new drink across the table to Shanell. “Knock yourself out.”

Shanell laughed. “You are a mess.”

Tamia snorted. “Can you believe he came at me with that weak-ass shit? Nigga got no game.”

“You ain't never lied.” Shanell picked up the glass and drank. “So . . .”

Tamia eyed her expectantly. “What?”

“Is that little heffa still staying with you?”

Tamia laughed. “Who? Honey?”

“Yeah. Her.”

“Nah, girl, she went back to her crazy boyfriend.”

Shanell harrumphed. “Good.”

Bemused, Tamia shook her head at her friend. “What do you have against Honey?”

“Who says I have anything against her?”

Tamia gave Shanell a look.

She huffed out a breath. “I don't know. She seems awfully young and immature, and hood as hell.”

“Hey, I resent that,” Tamia protested. “
I'm
from the hood.”

“True, but
you've
got class, Tamia. Honey doesn't know the meaning of the word. Remember how she approached you at your homecoming party last month? Breathing all up in your face, asking you to autograph her titties, propositioning you for a threesome?” Shanell wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Nasty-ass heffa.”

Tamia chuckled. “So she was a little star-struck. Cut her some slack.”

“Whatever.” Shanell frowned deeply. “Honestly, I don't want her pulling you back into that life.”

Tamia arched a brow. “What life?”

“You know . . . hanging around with sleazebags . . . selling sex.”

“Oh, I see.” Tamia grinned teasingly. “You know what I think? I think you're jealous of Honey.”

“
Jealous?
” Shanell sputtered indignantly. “Why the hell would I be jealous of
her
?”

“Because you think she's trying to take your place as my best friend.”

Shanell scowled. “Bitch, whatever.”

Tamia threw back her head and laughed.

“I'm glad you find my concerns so damn amusing,” Shanell grumbled. “I was being serious.”

“I know.” Sobering at once, Tamia reached across the table and placed her hand over Shanell's. “I appreciate your concern for me. Really I do. But you don't have to worry about me anymore. I have no intention of getting pulled back into my old life or my old way of thinking. I'm putting the past behind me, moving onward and upward.”

Shanell studied her for a moment. “Onward and upward, huh?”

“Yup. That's my new motto.”

Shanell smiled. “I'll drink to that.”

As they clinked glasses, Tamia decided not to tell Shanell about her new partnership with Dominic. She knew Shanell would think she was crazy for getting involved with him again.

And the sad part was, she'd be absolutely right.

 

On her way home from the bar, Tamia's smartphone rang.

She picked it up and glanced at the display screen. When she saw Brandon's number, her heart skipped several precious beats.

Yesterday she'd removed Usher's “My Boo” from her phone, giving Brandon the same generic ringtone as everyone else. He wasn't her man anymore, so he didn't deserve a special song.

The phone rang again.

Tamia stared at it, pulse drumming.

Two more rings . . . then silence.

She slowly exhaled, then set the phone down and returned her attention to the road, passing shops and skyscrapers that flanked the downtown streets.

Two minutes later, Brandon called back.

Tamia frowned, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

Before she could stop herself, she reached over and snatched up the phone. “What do you want?” she demanded.

There was a long pause.

“So you're ignoring my calls now?” Brandon murmured, his deep voice curling through her to settle lusciously between her thighs.

She shifted on the seat. “I thought I told you to leave me alone.”

“You know I can't do that.”

“Can't or won't?”

He was silent.

She waited, throat dry.

“Where are you?” he asked softly.

None of your damn business
, she wanted to say. But she didn't. Couldn't. “I'm driving home from the bar. I had drinks with Shanell.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tamia hesitated, biting her lip. “What about you?”

“I'm still at the office.”

“Oh.” Tamia fell silent.

“I miss you,” he told her.

She closed her eyes for a moment, praying for strength. “Don't do this, Brandon.”

“Don't do what?”

“You know damn well what.”

“I can't stop thinking about you,” he confessed huskily. “I can't sleep without dreaming about you. I can't eat without tasting you. I can't breathe without smelling you—”

“Stop,” Tamia whispered. “Just
stop
.”

“I can't, Tamia. You think I haven't tried? I have, and nothing works. I'm going outta my fucking mind without you.”

Tamia clenched her jaw, trying to steel her emotions against his anguished words. “You can't do this, Brandon. You don't get to have your cake and eat it, too.”

“I know, damn it. I know.” He exhaled a ragged breath. “Are you fucking him?”

Tamia nearly swerved into another lane. “
What?
”

“You heard me. Are you fucking Dominic?”

“How dare you? You have no right to ask me that question! You don't see me asking
you
about Cynthia—”

“I'm not sleeping with her.”

That shut Tamia up for a moment.

Narrowing her eyes, she prodded, “What do you mean?”

“I'm not sleeping with Cynthia,” Brandon repeated, his voice pitched low. “We haven't had sex since before we broke up.”

Tamia sucked her teeth. “Like I'm supposed to believe that.”

“It's the truth.”

“She's your fiancée, Brandon. You're marrying her. How long do you honestly think you can get away with not sleeping with her?”

“I don't know. I can't . . .” He trailed off.

“Can't what?”

“I can't touch her without thinking about you.”

Tamia's throat tightened.

“Don't do anything with Dominic,” Brandon quietly implored.

Tamia shook her head, slowing to a red light. “This really isn't fair, Brandon—”

“Please, Tamia. This is the only thing I ask of you. Don't give yourself to Dominic.”

“And what about other guys?” she challenged. “Am I supposed to stay celibate while you and Cynthia get your freak on all over the place? When her pregnancy hormones are raging and she can't keep her hands off you, are you gonna be able to resist the pussy?”

Brandon was incriminatingly silent.

Tamia smirked. “I didn't think so.”

“One month, Tamia.”

“What?”

“I'm asking you not to sleep with Dominic—or anyone else—for at least one month. Can you do that for me?”

“You have no right to ask,” Tamia said curtly.

“I know,” he conceded, “but I'm asking anyway.”

Tamia frowned, staring at the red light until her vision blurred. When the traffic signal changed to green, she murmured, “I have to go, Brandon.”

Before he could say another word, she hung up.

And slowly exhaled.

Brandon went to bed thinking about Tamia.

He dreamed about her throughout the long night.

When he awoke the next morning, she was still on his mind.

She stayed there as he climbed out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a shower. He saw her face as he stood beneath the hot spray of water, eyes closed, head thrown back as he washed himself.

He imagined the foamy clouds of soap streaming down his body were Tamia's soft lips running along his naked skin as she chased rivulets of water with her tongue.

Before long he felt himself growing hard, swelling with arousal.

Unable to resist, he reached down and wrapped his fingers around his throbbing shaft. He squeezed the base, then slowly pumped up and down, imagining the walls of Tamia's succulent pussy gripping him.

Suddenly he felt a cool draft across his skin.

“Good morning,” Cynthia greeted him, stepping into the large glass stall.

Brandon quickly released his dick, feeling guilty because he'd nearly been caught masturbating to another woman.

Cynthia gently stroked his shoulders. “You've been in here a long time.”

“I know,” Brandon murmured. “I was making mental notes for a meeting I have this morning.”

“Hmm.” Cynthia slid her arms around his chest, pressing her small breasts against his back. Her nipples were hard as pebbles. “I can't get enough of seeing you naked, Brandon. Especially when you're all nice and wet.
Sooo
sexy.”

As Brandon reluctantly turned around, Cynthia's eyes traveled downward—and widened.

“Oh, my,” she breathed, licking her lips as water pelted her black shower cap. “Talk about morning wood.”

Brandon tried to smile, but his facial muscles wouldn't cooperate.

He still hadn't forgiven Cynthia for the malicious stunt she'd pulled the other night, though he knew she'd had every right to be mad at him for coming home so late. He'd slept in the guest room that night and avoided her at the office the next day. When he'd come home that evening, she'd had dinner waiting for him. After they ate—mostly in silence—she'd humbly apologized for playing the Mystique video and entreated him to come back to their bed.

“Mmm,” she purred now, curling her fingers around his heavy shaft. “Wanna fool around?”

“Can't,” Brandon said apologetically. “I don't want to be late for that meeting.”

Cynthia smiled, dropping to her knees. “At least let me give you a proper sendoff.”

When Brandon realized what she was about to do, he shook his head. “Baby, no—”

She wrapped her mouth around his dick.

As she began sucking him off, Brandon let out an involuntary groan.

Closing his eyes, he imagined Tamia kneeling before him, milking his shaft with hot pulls of her mouth while her hand massaged his balls.

With Tamia on his mind, it didn't take him long to get off.

As he started coming, Cynthia pulled his dick out of her mouth and purred with satisfaction as white ribbons of come spurted across her breasts. She didn't like to swallow, but she loved having him ejaculate on her as if she were his property.

When he'd finished, Brandon reached up and directed the shower head toward Cynthia, letting the warm water rinse his semen from her body.

As he gently helped her to her feet, she smiled seductively, then leaned up and kissed him. Her lips were warm and slippery. “Sure you don't have time to fool around?” she purred, rubbing her slick thighs against his. “I could make it worth your while.”

Brandon smiled. “I'm sure you could, but I still have to take a rain check.”

“But we—hey!” she squealed in protest as he snatched off her shower cap and held it out of reach. “Give that back! You're getting my hair wet!”

Brandon laughed, passing her the plastic cap before ducking out of the shower stall.

“I am
so
gonna get you for that!” Cynthia called through the glass.

He chuckled, draping his bath towel around his hips as he strode from the steamy bathroom.

Inside the walk-in closet, he chose a pressed white shirt, a gray silk tie, and a navy suit from a collection of designer suits that lined both sides of the large space.

Returning to the bedroom, he slapped on some deodorant and hurriedly dressed, eager to be on his way so he could be alone with his thoughts again.

Cynthia emerged from the bathroom with a fluffy towel wrapped around her slender body. Humming cheerfully, she strolled over to the dresser and opened one of the drawers that she'd commandeered when she'd moved in with him.

“Do we have any plans this weekend?”

We,
Brandon mused. Like they were one of those couples who were joined at the hip, who couldn't go anywhere or do anything without consulting each other first.

“Brandon?” Cynthia prompted.

He glanced up from putting on his shoes. “The prayer breakfast is on Saturday, remember?”

“Of course I remember.” Cynthia smiled. “You're giving a speech, and it'll be our first time appearing together on the campaign trail. Every TV station in town will be there.”

Brandon grimaced. He prayed to God that Tamia wouldn't see any of the coverage.

“Anyway,” Cynthia continued, slipping on a pair of cotton panties, “after the prayer breakfast, I was thinking we could go house hunting.”

Brandon froze, staring at her. “House hunting?”

“Yes.” She frowned at his startled tone. “Don't get me wrong, Brandon. I love your condo, but surely you don't expect us to stay here after we get married? We've got a baby on the way, so we need a bigger place. The sooner we move into our new home, the sooner I can set up the nursery.”

Brandon's chest felt suffocatingly tight. “You're not due for several months. What's the rush?”

Cynthia snorted. “Spoken like a man who doesn't have to worry about planning the wedding of the century while harvesting another human being inside his body.”

Brandon frowned. “Wedding of the century?”

Cynthia laughed. “That's what our mothers are calling it,” she explained, making her way to the closet. “You should see how giddy and excited those women are over this wedding. You would think they'd never planned anything in their lives. And I swear the guest list gets longer every day.”

Brandon rose from the bed and crossed to the dresser on leaden legs. As he slid on his platinum TAG Heuer watch, Cynthia kept up a steady stream of chatter from the closet.

“I'm going to ask Shanell to hook us up with her Realtor. He's absolutely amazing, Brandon. He's sold properties for a lot of celebrities who are from Houston, including Loretta Devine. Shanell says he's in such demand that he only takes referrals, but I'm sure he'd love to have
us
as clients. I mean, we're practically royalty in this town.”

Brandon went still.

Cynthia's words had triggered a memory—a memory of the very first time he'd met Dominic Archer. He and Tamia had been having dinner at a restaurant when Dominic appeared at their table. After Tamia had nervously made the introductions, Dominic had given Brandon a surprised look.

Brandon frowned.
We're practically royalty in this town....

Cynthia poked her head out of the closet. “So?”

Brandon met her expectant gaze. “So what?”

“Are you up for house hunting on Saturday?”

He was silent, studying her through narrowed eyes.

Her smile wavered. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No particular reason.” Brandon calmly picked up his wallet and smartphone, then started from the room. “I'll let you know about Saturday.”

“Wait, where are you going?” Cynthia called after him. “I thought we were riding to work together.”

“Not today. You're not ready yet, and I don't wanna be late for my meeting.”

“But—”

“I'll see you at the office.” He closed the bedroom door on her protests and headed from the apartment.

A few minutes later, as he climbed into his car and started the engine, his phone rang.

His pulse quickened.

He foolishly hoped it was Tamia calling to tell him that she had no intention of sleeping with any man until she and Brandon could be together again.

But one glance at the phone's display screen dashed that hope.

It wasn't Tamia.

It was Dre's mother.

Brandon frowned. He considered ignoring her call, but he knew he'd have to deal with her sooner or later. He might as well get it over with.

Clenching his jaw, he pressed the talk button. “Hello.”

“Hello, Brandon. This is Renay Portis.”

“Ms. Portis,” he said coolly. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, goodness. I don't even know where to start.” She let out a nervous breath. “First of all, I wanted to apologize for what happened the other night. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Really?” Brandon countered sardonically. “How did you
think
I'd feel when you came on to me?”

“Well, I was hoping you'd feel flattered. Turned on.”

When Brandon didn't laugh, she heaved a resigned breath. “The point is, I was way out of line for trying to seduce you. I'd had a few glasses of wine before you arrived, but that's no excuse for my behavior.”

“No,” Brandon agreed, “it isn't.”

“It's just that . . . well, I get lonely sometimes. It's hard to meet good men nowadays—men who are handsome, confident, financially successful.
Real
men who are about something . . .” She trailed off with a wistful sigh. “Men like you don't come around every day, Brandon. But that's not your fault. I'm sorry for coming on to you. Do you think you can forgive me?”

Brandon stared out the window, shaking his head. “Please don't do anything like that again, Ms. Portis, or you gon' have me in therapy. I'm serious.”

She laughed.

He surprised himself by chuckling.

After a few moments, Renay implored, “I hope you won't tell Dre about this. He'd be furious with me.”

“Yeah, he would.”

“You're his best friend in the world, Brandon. I'd never forgive myself for causing a rift between you two. Please promise me you won't say anything to Dre.”

Brandon hated keeping secrets. He knew all too well that secrets destroyed lives. But sometimes they were necessary.

“I won't tell him,” he promised.

Renay gave a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Brandon.”

He nodded, though she couldn't see the gesture.

“Well, I won't keep you any longer. I'm sure you're on your way to work to make that paper.” She paused for a long moment. “If you ever change your mind about my offer—”

Brandon scowled. “Good-bye, Ms. Portis.”

He hung up on her naughty laughter.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he shoved on a pair of sunglasses and backed out of the parking space, making a mental note to stay the hell away from his best friend's horny-ass mother from now on.