I Never Said I Was a Good Girl (4 page)

Whenever you are available it just has to be done by Friday.

Let me hit you back on Monday after I go over my availability with Chantel.

K, love you.

Love you too Treas.

I lay back on the couch and place my cell on my chest. I decide to watch
Iron Man
for what seems like the thousandth time. It plays in the background as I look over a few things on my laptop. I don’t know when it happened but I fell asleep only to be awakened by the chiming and vibration coming from my cell.

I open my eyes and squint as the light from my Note 4 blinds me. Once my eyes adjust I see that it is one forty eight in the morning and I have a text, plus like hundred emails. I tap the message icon and see that it is a text from Brazille and since none of the emails are from Chantel, I ignore those for now. I had saved her number in my phone earlier so I wouldn’t have to pull out the card ever time to call her or search my call history to get the number. I sit straight up, in more ways than one, and smile to myself as I open her message.

Chapter 7: Brazille

I pull into my parking space at my apartment complex and get a little nervous about walking through the parking lot at night by myself. To make matters worse, my spot is all the way at the end of the parking lot, in the back, by the woods and the lighting back here is horrible. Every time I pull in here after dark I can hear the theme music from every horror movie I’ve ever seen playing in my head. I had complained to management several times about getting the lights fixed and a security guard to make tenants feel safe, but my requests went ignored. I can’t wait to get out of this dump. ‘I am not talking about you this time Pane’ I say out loud and rub the steering wheel. Those phone calls had really spooked me this morning and now I feel trapped in my car with nowhere to hide.

I decide to call Chyna so she could talk to me until I get inside my apartment and it will give me a chance to apologize for hurting her feelings. I take my phone out of the console and tap her name. The phone barely gets to ring before she sends me straight to voicemail.
“Shit!”
I fling my head back and punch the door.
“Chyna this is not the time to be petty over some dick you’re already sharing!”
I yell, irritated by her ability to be trifling and selfish
.

My anger gives rise to the courage I need to get out of the car and make the long, dark dreaded walk to the apartment building. Before I get out of the car I look around to see if I can spot anything out of the ordinary but honestly with only two lights working I can’t see too far.

I put my purse on my right shoulder take my shoes off the seat and put them in my left hand. I take the keys out of the ignition with my right hand and open my door with my pinky finger, still scanning the parking lot. I hit the lock with the side of my hand and push the door closed with my butt.

‘OK B, it’s ok. Let’s just get in the house, let’s just get in the house,’
I think to myself. It just repeats in my head over and over like a prayer.

My heartbeat starts to increase as I begin to make a dash for it. I am looking around constantly, hoping that no-one steps out from the shadows. I move through the darkness like a thief in the night or the world’s thickest ninja. It’s at times like this that I really wish I had a man. I finally get to the downstairs door after what seems like eternity and punch in my code. I snatch the door open and quickly pull it close as I step inside to make sure no-one comes in behind me. Breathing heavy, I begin the climb to the third floor. I shake my head on the first landing as I think about how scared those phone calls have made me. By the time I get to the second landing I have begun to gain my composure and chalk the calls up to some teenagers having a great time scaring the hell out of me. Even though I can hear a voice in the back of my mind denies this even as I think it. The voice sounds like my mother’s, as always.

I finally get to my door unlock it step inside relock the door and fall back against the door, dropping my shoes, purse, keys and all on the floor.

After a couple of minutes I get undress right there in the kitchen, dropping my clothes on the floor, and head to the bathroom in just my bra and panties to take a much needed shower. I begin my normal routine of closing the bathroom door and turning on the shower full blast to let the room steam up. While I wait, I step out of the bathroom to go get my phone out of my purse which is still on the kitchen floor. I return to the bathroom and sit on the toilet scrolling through FB while I wait for the steam in the room to become just right.

I remember I never responded to Omari’s text. I exit out of Facebook, go to my messages and bring his thread up and respond to his text.

Tonight Bone’s @7pm?

I lay my phone down on the counter and step in the shower. I think to myself, as I begin to wash and feel the water running down my body, ‘he probably won’t answer until this afternoon.’ I finish bathing and step out the shower. I am drying off when my phone chimes, letting me know that I have a text. I smile and think, ‘no a Brotha didn’t text right back’. I pick up my phone and smile as I read his text.

Sounds great. I will take the liberty of making the reservations. What are u doing up so late?

Oh you my daddy now (smiley face)?
I walk into the kitchen to get something to eat as I wait for his response.

Never that…unless you want me to be lol…just don’t want anything to happen to a beautiful woman such as yourself.

Well, I will take the compliment but I am fine.
I place my phone on the table and open the fridge. I grab the leftover spaghetti and pop it in the microwave for three minutes and read the next text.

I know I just told you that, but you need to be safe as well.

Lol! You got jokes. If you must know I am just getting in from the salon.
I walk over to the microwave as I complete the text.

How was the opening?

It was flawless. How was your day?
I text back with my right thumb while balancing my plate of spaghetti and fork in my left hand and walking toward my bedroom. Multitasking at its best.

It went well considering I signed a new artist today. She is one of the people that you will be working with if you decide to partner up with me.
I read this as I situate myself and my dinner on my bed. I sit down and eat a few forkfuls of my spaghetti before I text back.

So do you text all of your perspective business partners at two o’clock in the morning?

No I normally keep business contained within business hours but if you refer back to your text you are the one who texted me at two in the morning.

I decide not to text back because I did carelessly text him at this crazy hour so now he probably thinking that I am one of those easy every day hoes he is used to dealing with.

I take my dishes in the kitchen and wash them out. I put the dishes in the dish rack. I lean against the kitchen sink and sigh while thinking to myself, ‘I hope I don’t look whack to him now. What was I thinking making myself look so desperate and low class by texting him at this time of morning. That’s okay though he caught me slipping it won’t happen again.’

I noticed that my mouth is dry so I grab a Pepsi out of the fridge. I relish in that first swallow, it is always the best. But that thought just brings Omari back into my mind. I decide to focus on Pepsi and nails; they always make me feel better. I take another drink and go back to my room. As I step in the room, to my surprise, the phone is ringing. I figure it is Chyna finally returning from her bitch vacation.

“It’s about time girl, we need to talk!’ I say out loud.

I picked up the phone and hit talk in record speed.

Chapter 8: Omari

I was so happy that Brazille finally hit me up I was no longer sleepy. Once we started conversing I reached over, fired up my laptop again and started to look for Brazille’s Facebook page. I didn’t realize she even had one until I saw the FB address on her business card. I want to see her full lips, her big brown eyes, her deep dimples, her breasts, and I would definitely love to check out that ass. That was the one asset I didn’t get to see since she was sitting when we met. I was hoping her FB page was not like her Instagram because that was all nails, no pics of her.

I locate her page and start scrolling through the photos. I’m in luck, because there are quite a few pictures of her. There is one that jumps out at me so I click on it to make it full screen. She is wearing a red short fitted dress with a plunging neckline. It was hugging all of her curves for dear life. The cleavage she was showing has my mouth watering. ‘Damn….” I mutter under my breath. She was sort of turned to the side so I could see her ass and boy was it on point! I started picturing myself palming that big juicy ass while I slide my dick into her. I get so lost in my fantasy I don’t realize it has been ten minutes since she had responded to my last text so I up the ante. I pick up my phone and call her. She picks up the phone really quick. I was geeked at first because I thought she was happy it was me. But when she said “
Hey bitch you finally took your ass off your shoulders?”
I figured it wasn’t me she was racing to answer the phone for.

I pause and say,
“Brazille, this is Omari.”

“Oh my GOD! I am soooo sorry and even more embarrassed. I didn’t look at the caller id because the only person that ever calls me at this time of morning is Chyna and unfortunately we had a little disagreement last night. Hold up, how many of your perspective business partners do you call this early in the morning?” Brazille asks me.

“None,” I admit. “But there’s a first time for everything. You slowed up on the texting and I really wanted to hear your silky voice so I took a chance and called. I hope you don’t mind?”

I smile.
“Is that right Mr. Omari?”

“Brazille, I know this is extremely forward of me, but I can’t stop thinking about you and I can’t wait for our dinner this evening.”

“Well truth be told Omari I’m kinda feeling you too.”

We continue talking deep into Sunday morning and I find myself getting so hard listening to her voice and looking at the picture of her in that red dress. I reach into my gym shorts and begin stroking myself without even thinking about it. I start out with slow short strokes while I listen to her talk. I lose track as to what she is actually talking about and I just concentrate on the sound of her voice which has my dick throbbing. I’m not usually this horny the first time I talk to a woman, but she has been on my mind all day and I really need to bust this nut.

I cut her off and ask what she is wearing. She starts by describing the white lace bra that shows off her dark nipples and that causes me to increase the speed and length of my strokes. She says her panties are white lace as well with a thong that gets lost between her fat ass cheeks and reappears in the front cupping her plump vagina. I began to bite my bottom lip as I nut all over my hand like an erupting volcano. It’s all I can do not to give myself away by moaning or breathing too hard. As I complete the last strokes, hot cum running across my hand, I realize she is calling my name.

“Omari?” she says.

Just the sound of her saying my name has my dick jumping again.
“I am sorry Brazille but you had a brotha speechless.”

We both laugh and she says
“Omari it has been great but you have me coming out of character right now and not using my better judgment. So I will see you at dinner, ok?”

Reluctantly I say
“Goodbye” and head for the shower to clean myself up.

Chapter 9: Dessert

I finally got off the phone with Omari sometime after four o’clock a.m. on Sunday morning. I am so excited about our conversation that it takes me another forty minutes or so to fall asleep. While I am waiting to drift off I keep re-playing parts of our conversation in my head. Sleep begins to take over just as I think of how several times during the convo Omari seemed to get that “I am Cumming” voice. I can picture him playing with himself as we talked. I giggle and say to myself, ’I know I had his ass going with the description of my night attire’.

When I open my eyes again it is two o’clock in the afternoon. I lay there thinking about what I am going to wear tonight. I decide on this short, tight black little number, that I am hoping will drive Omari crazy, with some black five inch heels. I will accessorize with some silver bangles, silver chandelier earrings that dangle down to my shoulders.

I roll over on my phone which causes me to check it. I hope to have a message from Chyna but it’s to no avail. I don’t have any new text or missed calls so I decided to turn on the television and catch up on some Real Housewives of Atlanta. Kandi is truly my favorite followed by Phaedra coming in at a close second. There was a time when I could deal with Portia but she has gotten out of hand so I have to take her in small doses, with a long-handled spoon. ‘I guess having a mug shot can do something to people,’ I think and laugh out loud.

I get the remote off of my night stand and search through the many recordings until I find RHOA. I select the first episode that I missed and lay back to be rachified.

Twenty minutes in I get a text from Zurich. My first instinct is to ignore him as usual but since I am in such a good mood I text back.

Yes, Zurich
.
Hoping that he got much attitude from the short reply and wishing there was an eye-rolling emoji available on this app.

Good afternoon.

What do you want?

Simply put you.

I am about to end the conversation if you don’t get to the point.

I need answers.

To…?

Why you left.

Goodbye.
I am not doing this with him today. Loser. I really need to take my personal number off of Facebook. I lay down my phone and turn up the volume on my TV.

During the first commercial, instead of fast forwarding like I normally do- which is one of the many perks of watching recorded shows- I go to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. I look at myself in the mirror and smile wondering what the night with Omari will bring.

I go back in my room and sit in the middle of my bed Indian style as I watch RHOA with my mouth hanging open Kandi’s mother totally disrespects Todd for the hundred millionth time. I shake my head because I don’t understand why Kandi let’s her mother overstep her bound like that. All I can say is Erika would NEVER be able to do that to my man NEVER mind a man I was about to marry. I scream “
Kandi get yo life!”

I get another text from Zurich that I happily ignore.

At the end of the third RHOA I look at the clock on my night stand which reads five o’clock. Omari talked me into letting him send a car for me and it was supposed to arrive at six thirty. I only agree because that means there would be a driver to see me in and out of my apartment building safely and I wouldn’t have to park in the parking lot and walk to my building in the dark when I return from our date.

I put my iPod on its docking station turn up the volume and get in the shower.

When I get out the shower my anthem is playing so I start snapping my fingers and gyrating my hips to the beat as I sing along with Big Sean, picturing Zurich in my head, “
I don’t fuck wit youuuuu, you little stupid ass bitch…”
I continue to jam while lotioning.

I decide to wear my hair straight with a straight bang, sort of an Egyptian look. I finish flat ironing my hair and then apply my makeup which is going to be more of a natural look today. I am even going to go with a nude lipstick. ‘Maybe my lips won’t be the only thing nude tonight if Omari acts right,’ I think to myself smiling at my reflection.

I slip on my heels just as the driver starts buzzing my intercom. I let him know I will be down in a minute. I snatch my Dooney and Bourke clutch, grab keys and cell off my dresser and lock the front door.

I open the door to step outside and I see the driver is standing next to the car door waiting patiently to open it for me. I bite my lip in awe of the sleek black 2015 Audi S8 idling outside and put a little extra twist in my hips for the hood rats that I know are watching.

I sit down in the car and expect to see Omari sitting next to me but to my surprise he is not in the vehicle. I buckle my seatbelt and pull out my compact mirror so I can make sure my hair is still perfect. When I finish primping, I sink back into the plush leather seat and begin to enjoy the ride.

We pull up to Bone’s and the first thing I notice is that there are very few cars in the parking lot which starts to alarm me because this is an extremely popular restaurant and I was expecting it to be packed to capacity, and on a Sunday night no less.

The driver comes around to my side and opens the door for me. I get out and hesitate to walk into the restaurant. I decide that I am going to go on in but I will certainly proceed with caution.

I slowly open the big heavy oak door and look in to see if I could get any clue as to what was going on. I approach the maître d. He looks up and says,
“Good evening Ms. English. You look lovely. Mr. Lambert is waiting for your arrival. Follow me please.”
He leads me into the dining area.

The first thing I see after entering the dining area is a beautifully decorated table for two in the middle of the room. The table was adorned with a deep purple table cloth, black dinner napkins folded to look like swans, clear glasss and crystal plates, edged in gold with gold flatware. The center piece is a huge clear glass vase with what seemed to be at least fifty long stemmed white calla lilies inside.

I am taking all this in as I walk to the table when my eyes catch a glimpse of the fine man who put this all together. He is standing there looking like the picture you get if you Google perfect definition of Tall, Dark and Handsome. He is dressed in an all-black Armani suit, a crisp brilliantly white shirt and a black and purple patterned tie with flecks of gold mixed in, with a purple pocket square and black Giorgio Armani dress shoes. He is truly turning me on, as Keri Hilson would say, back when she actually had a music career, but I’ve got to keep it cool. So I smile and nod my head in approval of the scene set up in my honor.

“
Good evening Ms. English,”
Omari says in that deep sexy voice of his. I see him checking me out from head to toe as he walks over to me.

“
Good evening to you as well Mr. Lambert
,” I reply back, putting a little extra swing in my hips for his benefit.

As I get to the table and Omari pulls out my chair and helps me slide up to the table. Then he walks back to his seat to sit down himself. After we stare in each other’s eyes for about sixty seconds, he finally breaks the silence saying, “
Hello beautiful.”

“Hello Omari. You look quite the Dapper Dan yourself.”
I really wanted to say ‘boy you look fine as hell and I am already wet from the mere site of you,’ but I was trying to keep it classy. I smile and tilt my head slightly to the right like a fourteen year old girl who is having a conversation with her secret crush.
“I can’t believe you rented out the whole restaurant! This set up is amazing but what I most want to know is how did you know my favorite color is purple and that I love to accent it with gold? Oh and the calla lilies!! Someone has really been doing his homework.”

“A true gentleman does his homework and always knows what a lady likes.”
He says, with a devilish grin making him look even sexier.

I shake my head.
“Thank you. I feel really special.”

“I hope you don’t mind but I preordered our food. I didn’t want you to have to do anything tonight except enjoy yourself and keep your eyes and attention on me. And, of course on our potential business success,” Omari says.
He taps a small bell to his right that I hadn’t even noticed and the waitress comes out immediately with our appetizers.
“You will be having the Caesar salad with grilled cheese and blue cheese dressing.”
The waitress sets my plate down in front of me.

“It looks good, thank you.”
I look over as the waitress sets his plate down and he is having a crab and avocado salad.

“So Brazille have you been considering partnering with me?”

I laugh and tell him,
“You have been giving me so many other things to think about I really hadn’t been able to concentrate on the partnering aspect of our relationship.”

“Are you interested? In the partnership I mean.”
He says and gives me a wink.

“
So what, exactly, would this partnership entail? Because you know I have the salon full time and we just opened right
?” I ask. I mean, I like this guy and all, but business is business.

“Well, basically you would come in and do nails and makeup for my artists for photo shoots, videos, interviews etcetera. Something of an official/unofficial esthetician and nail tech” he says.

“Ok then, I have a few questions. First, how does it pay? Because I am about my money. And how far in advance will I know that I have to glam up one of your clients? Will you want me to come to your location for the session or will I need to work your people in around my own clients? Do you want PBB to create the designs or is that something you will come up with?” I ask, finishing my salad and taking a final sip of the Riesling in my glass.

“Very good questions, Brazille. And while most of the details will be hammered out later, I figured that most of the time the client can come to your shop so you would put them in your regular appointment book and my assistant Chantel would email you about a week in advance to let you know what the client is going to need done. Now money…what would you be asking for something like this?”
He asks, ticking his points off on his fingers as he talks. He taps the bell again and the waitress comes to remove our plates. She places a small bowl of lemon sorbet in front of us both and replaces our wine glasses with water.

“Are you two ready for the main course?” the waitress asks.

Omari answers,
“Yes. Thank you.”
The waitress disappears into the back.

“How long is the contract for?”
I look up and lock eyes with him and that is when I have to admit to myself that I really don’t give a crap about the contract or the partnership at this moment. I really just want to jump his bones. His mind must have wandered as well because he licks his lips and continues to stare at me for a few seconds before he speaks.

“The contract would be annual.”
The waitress comes back and sits my plate down just as he finishes his sentence, replacing my water glass with a wine glass full of Pepsi and removing the sorbet bowl. He really DID do his homework.
“For the main course, since I know you are a big fan of steak, I ordered you the filet mignon, medium, with truffle butter mashed potatoes and broccoli.”

“This looks so good. What did you get for yourself?”
I’ve always liked a man with big appetites
.

“I’m having the Porterhouse, medium rare, with sautéed zucchini and Bacon Mac and Cheese. I figured that way if you wanted to try something different I could feed it to you,” he answers staring right into my eyes.

I bite my bottom lip thinking about what I really wanted him to serve me.
“Oh really? Well why don’t you let me sample your serving skills and feed me some of that mac and cheese.”

He scoops up a fork full of mac and cheese stands up and leans towards me. I lean towards him and open my mouth slowly while staring in his eye and let my tongue play with the fork before slowly closing my lips and pulling the mac and cheese off the fork. I then lick every drop of cheese off of my lips in slow motion while he watches.

I finish chewing, making a show of swallowing for his benefit, and say
“That was delicious. How many times a month would you estimate you would be sending me a client?”
I ask, trying to keep my mind on business.

“Off the top of my head I would say no less than fifteen times but that may change depending on the needs of the business. Again, the contract would outline all of that for you,”
Omari says, slicing off a piece of steak and eating it.

“So why don’t we write the contract up in such a way that I bill you for my work? It seems like salary probably won’t work in this instance, because I may do more than fifteen sets, or less, in any given month, and in that case one of us would be losing money at some point.”

“We could definitely do that but I still want to pay you a monthly retainer so that my clients take precedence over all others. When I need you, I have to know you will be available to me. How does twenty thousand per month sound?”

I almost chocked on my Pepsi. Did he just say twenty thousand a month? I smirk as I think to myself ‘if he is offering twenty thousand he can certainly afford more’. “
Honestly I would need twenty five thousand. Let’s be honest you are familiar with my work and you are asking me to push my clientele to the back burner. Hell me, you and my seven hundred thousand Instagram followers know that I am worth it.”