King's Pleasure (9 page)

“Meet her on the road?” Jeremy asked, knowing Roy’s propensity for groupies.

“Nah, nah, man. This is my good girl. Salt of the earth, the kind you want to start producing a string of Mini-Mes to continue the family name.”

“Aah, don’t tell me it’s that one chick you been seeing off and on for, like, forever.”

Roy dipped his head and blushed a bit. “The one and only.”

“Aah, snap. So you’re really going to make this legit and become a one-woman man?”

“Whoa, now. I didn’t say all that. A playa is always gonna have a little dirt on him. You just have to wipe your feet off before you walk through the family door.”

Jeremy’s and his brother’s smiles shaved off a few inches.

He elbowed Jeremy. “You feel me?”

“Yeah, yeah. I hear you.”

“Well, I better go. I’ll catch up with you later.” Roy turned to leave but then stopped. “Wait. Tell you what. I’m going to make sure that I shoot you an invitation to the engagement party. I’d love for the future Mrs. Roy DeShawn Carter to finally meet my best friend.”

Jeremy’s smile bounced back. “I certainly can’t wait to meet this woman.”

S
heree Matthews tossed up her hands. “Oh my God, Leigh. Would it kill you to smile? How am I’m going to be able to picture how you’ll look coming down the aisle if your bottom lip is constantly dragging on the floor?”

“I’m sorry, Momma,” Leigh whined. “It’s just that we’ve been at this for weeks. I must’ve tried on a thousand gowns.”

“And you haven’t liked any of them,” her mother reminded her. “I don’t know why you just don’t wear my wedding dress,” she said, pressing a hand against her chest. “After all, that’s supposed to be the tradition.”

“No offense, Mom, but your dress is kind of dated.”

“Yeah,” Ariel said, closing a copy of
Bride
magazine. “Those shoulder pads alone would make her look like the bride of Frankenstein.”

“Ariel,” Leigh hissed, but it was already too late to remind her best friend to think before she spoke.

However, her mother just thrust out her chin. “That was
the look
at the time. Besides, the ’80s are back in style.”

The two friends shared a look.

“Fine.” Her mother’s hands flew back into the air. “I’ll just save it for my grandbaby. I’m sure she’ll have more appreciation for a timeless classic.”

Leigh scoffed. “Grandbaby? You’re getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you? Who said anything about children?”

“First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes my grandbabies in the baby carriages,” her mother said confidently. “DeShawn has already told me that he wants five—at minimum.”

Leigh’s stomach flopped. “DeShawn said what?”

“You heard me—five.” She held up her hand in case Leigh needed a visual aid. “And he promised me that you two would get started on the first one as soon as possible.”

“Humph. I like his nerve.” Her frown deepened as she settled her hands on her hips. “We haven’t even talked about children.”

Sheree waved off her daughter. “Chile, get your hands off your imagination and go take that hideous dress off.” She sauntered over to the upholstered chair next to Ariel where her flute of champagne waited on a mirrored coffee table. “Looks like we’re going to be here all day.”

“Mmm.” Ariel shook her head while she planted her nose back into the magazine.

Leigh felt dismissed. “Wait a minute. I’m serious. Is anyone at all interested in whether I want to spit out
five
kids?”

Her mother sighed. “Not particularly.”

“Gee, thanks, Mom.”

Sheree rolled her eyes. “Leigh, baby. I already know that you want to do a whole laundry list of things, and I’m sure at the top of the list is ‘take over the world’ in all caps and bold letters. But now we’re talking about marriage, and with marriage come certain duties. And at the top of that list should be, ‘have babies.’”

Ariel looked up from her magazines. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious,” Sheree said. “Look, you can call me old-fashioned—”

“Old-fashioned,” Leigh and Ariel chorused together.

“But children are a blessing…” She stared Leigh up and down, adding, “…on most days. All this other stuff out here is a distraction. No one on their deathbed ever wished that they could’ve spent more time at the office or broken through one more glass ceiling. In the end, it’s going to be
family
—and the time you did or didn’t spend with them. Hey, I used to want to be superwoman. I could bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan. It was the late seventies—and we were kicking butt and taking names. I thought I could wait and do the whole family thing on my timetable. Then I got those cysts on my ovaries and the doctor told me if I was going to have children, I needed to start having them right away. I made a decision, got off the pills and had you. A few months after that, I had to have a hysterectomy—no more children. There’re not too many days that I don’t think about those eight years that I made your father wait, and wonder if you might not have had an older brother or sister. You can’t tell me that it wouldn’t have been nice to have siblings.”

Leigh dropped her gaze. She remembered all too well wishing that she had just that.

“Family! It’s the most important thing. It’s what endures. As a race, it was once taken from us—our family—our names—our birthright. Now—” she shook her head “—it’s all about
self
—not family. That’s why I’ve never missed one of your dance recitals, Leigh, or any of your track meets. I value being a good mother and a wife above everything else. I’m not saying that you can’t have a career, but everything has its place.”

Leigh swallowed her attitude.

Ariel rolled her eyes. “Well, shut my mouth. I didn’t know that the Stepford wives’ club was that much fun. I guess I better run out and nab me a husband, too.”

Surprisingly, Sheree cracked up at the glib comment. “Girl, go on now. You are a fool.”

Ariel laughed off Sheree’s sermon.

“I didn’t say that I didn’t want children,” Leigh said. “I just don’t know about having a tribe…or having them right now.” Her stomach flopped. Could she handle a house full of little DeShawns? And with him on the road so much, could she handle being essentially a single mother? “I’d better take this dress off. It’s starting to make me itch.” She turned and rushed back into the fitting room. When she was safely behind the closed dressing-room door, she bent at the waist and tried to chug in some much-needed air. She glanced up at the mirror. “God, Leigh. Do you know what you’re doing?”

Knock. Knock.

“Leigh?” Ariel inquired softly. “Do you need any help?”

She pulled herself up and then pinched her cheeks to put some color back into them. “I, uh…”

“Open the door,” Ariel ordered.

Rolling her eyes, Leigh did as her best friend asked, and moved aside so that Ariel could enter the small space.

Ariel took one look at her and was instantly concerned. “Are you all right? You look pale.”

“Yeah. Of course. I’m fine.” Her friend stared her down. “It’s just…everything is coming at me like a speeding locomotive, you know?”

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

“No… Well, just a few.”

Ariel smiled. “That’s okay. It’s normal.”

“How do you know?”

“Are you kidding? How many girlfriends of ours have gotten married? How many of them almost ran screaming from the church before the ceremony? Hell, Maxine Jones hyperventilated the whole way down the aisle and then burst into tears after she said ‘I do.’ Now she’s been happily married for six years with three kids.”

“Yeah.” Leigh nodded. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.” She blew on her nails and then buffed them on her chest. “They don’t call me Ms. Know-It-All for nothing.”

Leigh drew in a deep breath and then felt her nerves settle down a little.

“You know what? I know what will cheer you up,” she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “How about tonight we ditch the old lady and start planning the bachelorette party?”

“What?”

“Yeah. C’mon. As your maid of honor, I’m in charge of making sure that your last night in singlehood is one that you’ll never forget.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I just want to go home and dive into bed and just sleep for a couple of weeks. I think I’m coming down with something.”

“Uh-uh-uh. I don’t want to hear it. I’m taking you out, and we’re going to check out some good spots for the bachelorette party.”

“Strip clubs? You want to spend the evening checking out strip clubs?”

“C’mon. Clearly you’re not into dress, cake and venue shopping, so let’s do the fun stuff tonight. Find the hot strippers.” She started shaking her booty. “You know you wanna.” She cheesed all up in Leigh’s face and started bumping her hips against hers.

Leigh couldn’t withhold her smile any longer. “All right. All right. We can go.”

“Woohoo! Now let’s hurry up and get you out of that dress.”

“B
ooty, booty, booty, booty, rockin’ everywhere, rockin’ everywhere.”

Quentin’s head bobbed to the infectious beat, which happened to be the same rhythm that Caramel Swirl twirled her hips to as she slid her oil-slicked body down the stripper pole and tossed him a wink. “Damn, girl. You make me want to buy your momma a house.”

“My daddy might have something to say about that.” Caramel smiled and then edged closer so that he tucked two Benjamins into her tiny thong strings.

“That’s all right. He can stay there too, for his fifty-percent genetic share.” He winked. “So what are you doing later?”

“Spending time with you?”

“You read my mind.” He leaned over and elbowed Jeremy. “Care to join us?”

“Uh, what?” Jeremy lifted his head from the doodling he was doing on the club’s cocktail napkin. “What did you say?”

Quentin frowned. “All these luscious bodies bouncing in your face… What the hell are you doing?” He glanced down at the napkin and saw a woman’s face sketched in remarkable detail. Recognizing that it was the same image his cousin had been sketching on practically every damn thing in the office over the past few weeks, he huffed out a long breath. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Q—”

“What’s this? Are you obsessing over this girl?”

“What? No,” Jeremy said, defensively. “I’m just… Well, you know, just passing the time.”

“Are you kidding me?” He plopped back down in his chair and spread out his arms. “Look around you. You’re a King on a throne and look at all the toys at your disposal.”

When Jeremy sighed, Q hopped up from his chair and wrapped his arm around his cousin and tried to give him the big-picture perspective.

“What’s your flavor, cuz? Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, maple sugar, butterscotch or even vanilla? There’s just no way with all these flavors surrounding you. You should have a face so long, it’s about to hit the floor.”

Jeremy shook his head. “Look, cuz. I really appreciate what you’re trying to do, really. But you can pump the brakes. It’s not what you think. It’s just…mysteries intrigue me.” He tossed his napkin back onto the table. “And so far, she’s the biggest mystery I’ve ever come across.”

Q grabbed the napkin and took another look. “All right. She’s cute, I guess.”

“Ah, but Baby Girl was also stacked.”

“Yeah?” Quentin perked up but then watched as that same tired look glazed his cousin’s eyes. “Look, man. You know there’s a good chance that your brick house was just some bored housewife who needed to get her rocks off, you know what I mean? It happens sometimes. Don’t get your ego all caught up. Just be glad that she didn’t leave any money on the nightstand.
That
would’ve been humiliating. Trust me. I’ve been there.”

Jeremy cocked his head. “Really? I thought you loved your life when you had a fleet of sugar mommas trying to take care of you.”

Quentin thought back. “Oh, yeah. That
was
really nice. Never mind. Scratch what I said. Order another drink and then let’s set out finding you a chick who can pass for a look-alike for your mysterious Baby Girl. Role-playing can be fun too.”

Jeremy thought that he could live a thousand years and never really understand his cousin or his demons, and he certainly had a number of those.

“Heeeey, Jeremy,” a string of Dolls cooed as they sashayed their way toward the champagne room. “Evening, ladies.”

“What? Y’all don’t see nobody else?” Quentin complained.

“Heeeey, Q,” they chorused, flashing him the same blinding white smiles.

“That’s better.” Q puffed out his chest. “I don’t want to have to start docking nobody’s pay around here. You girls need to work on your hospitality skills.”

“You’re not a customer,” Jeremy pointed out.

Quentin turned toward him, frowning. “Would it hurt you to have my back?”

“Sorry.” Jeremy grabbed his glass and then tossed back his brandy. “So, um. Mind if I ask just how long you’re planning to stay out here?”

Quentin’s brows leaped. “Sick of me already?”

“Nah, nah, nah. I didn’t say that.”

“But you were thinking it?”

Jeremy dropped his head and made a rare prayer for patience. “Is this how it’s always going to be, man? You, always trying to bait me into an argument?”

His cousin shrugged. “Maybe. I always thought that it was our thing.”

“No. It’s
your
thing…especially when someone asks a question you don’t like.”

“You’d think people would take the hint and just stop asking questions.”

“Hey, man. It’s only because we care.” The cousins’ eyes locked. “Whatever it is, you can’t keep running.”

For the first time in a long while, Quentin didn’t have a snappy reply. Instead, his face turned really somber. “Have you ever done something that you wished you hadn’t—something that you can never take back?”

“Sure. Everyone has—at some point or another.” Jeremy cocked his head as he studied his cousin.
What did you do?

Quentin shuffled around on his chair, but for some reason he couldn’t get his mouth to work. Then the moment was gone, and the confession, that was just on the tip of his tongue, vanished.

“Well, what do you know?” Quentin picked up his glass and drained the rest of his whiskey sour in one gulp. “I think there is a hole in this glass.” With that, he stood and then made his way to the bar.

Jeremy watched him go, regretting the moment that was lost just seconds ago. He still couldn’t help but wonder,
What did you do?

However, he was pulled from his thoughts when his BlackBerry vibrated in his pocket.
Duty calls.
He leaned over and scooped out his phone. Seeing the name on the caller-ID screen, he smiled and answered. “Eh, yo, man, what’s up?”

Roy laughed. “Damn, man. You got it crunk up in there, ain’t you?”

“We got to make it do what it do.” Jeremy laughed, climbing out of his seat and strolling off toward the main floor and the club’s office. “So what can I do for you?”

“Well, man, you now know what time it is. I’m gonna need you to do a couple of favors since pretty soon I’ma be putting a ring on my lady.”

“Damn, man. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around that one.” Jeremy shook his head as he pushed through the doors, leading toward the back. “Married. That means that you’ll be a grown-up.”

“You’re telling me?” Roy’s laughed. “But I have to do it, man. Sometimes, one has to piss or get off the pot—and I had a feeling my shawty was about to bolt.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard anyone use that term to describe their relationship before,” Jeremy said, strolling into his office and then launching himself onto the black leather chair. “So if I understand you right, you’re getting married to
tie
her down.”

“Got to. Shawty is waaay too fine to be wandering the streets alone. I let that go and another brother would scoop her up before the next sunset. Plus, she got class and a damn good head on her shoulders. But more importantly, she’s loyal.”

“Well, I guess one of you has to be,” Jeremy jabbed.

“Right,” DeShawn agreed. “Anyway, man. I got to thinking after I saw you and your brothers the other day.”

“I knew I smelled something burning.”

“Ha. Ha. But I want us to be serious for a minute, bruh.”

“All right.”

“Like I said, I was thinking. You know me and you have been through a lot over the years. We’ve damn near known each other since we were in diapers. You mean a lot to me, man.”

“Damn. Are you about to propose to me, too?”

Roy chuckled. “Nah, but I do want you to be my best man.”

Jeremy’s eyes rounded. “Really?”

“Yeah. Like I was
trying
to say, you’re like the brother that I never had. I want you to be standing next to me when I take this big leap.”

Touched, Jeremy nodded. “I’d love to stand up there with you man. Count me in.”

Leigh twisted up her face when Ariel pulled her silver Mercedes into the parking lot of The Dollhouse. “What are we doing here? I thought we were going to an all-
male
strip joint. This is a
gentlemen’s
club.”

“I know what it is. I can read,” Ariel said, shutting off the engine. “We have plenty of time for that later. I just want us to pop in here real quick.”

“Why?” Leigh folded up her arms. “Is there something that you want to tell me? No judgment.”

Ariel jabbed a fist up against her hip. “Gurl, stop frontin’. You know it’s strictly dickly with me.”

Leigh tossed up her hands. “I didn’t know. You’ve been complaining about how bad the dating the scene is. I thought for a second that you were switching teams.”

“Well, get that nonsense out of your head. There’s a big buzz with some of the fellas in my office about how this place throws the best bachelor parties in town.”

“And? Are you trying to hook me up or DeShawn?”

“Chile, please. I don’t want to even think about the shenanigans that are gonna be going on at that man’s party—and I suggest you don’t, either. Nah. We came here for you.”

“You’re still losing me.”

Ariel sighed and then spoke to Leigh as if she was a toddler. “If this place can throw great bachelor parties, then they can throw a bachelorette party. The premise is the same. To refuse us is like sex discrimination.”

“And you would just love to sue their pants off for that,” Leigh finally concluded.

“Well, I didn’t get a law degree just so that I can dust it off on weekends. C’mon.” Ariel turned and climbed out of her car.

Shaking her head, Leigh turned and followed suit. “How long do we have to stay here?” she whined, marching up behind her friend. She really was looking forward to drooling over some naked, muscled
men
tonight—for her party.

“Humph, humph, humph.” One dude headed toward the front door damn near giving himself whiplash when Ariel and Leigh walked by. “Please say you two are dancing tonight. I cashed my paycheck today and it’s burning a hole in my pocket.”

Ariel turned with her hand on her hip. “Paycheck? Bruh, where’s your boss at? Tell
him
to holla at me.” She swiveled her head and then switched her hips past the bouncer at the door.

“You’re a hot mess,” Leigh said, pulling up the rear. “What’s wrong with a dude pulling a paycheck?”

“Girl, please. That knock-kneed-beer-belly-need-to-get-his-grill-fixed brotha better leave me alone. Shoot, a brother can’t get a dime piece on credit. No more dates at Taco Bell, sitting on twelve-inch rims in a hatchback. From here on out, if a brother wants to be with me, he’s got to bring what I’m bringing to the table. Period.”

“All right, then, girl. Do you.”

“Damn skippy.”

They finished their short stroll through the lobby and when they hit the main floor, both of their mouths nearly hit the floor.

“Oh, my,” Leigh said as she glanced around the place. She took in the strobe lights, falling glitter and the most incredibly stacked bodies writhing on gold stripper poles. “This place is like a man’s fantasy world.”

“
Shawty said l-l-lick like a lollipop / She said l-l-lick a lollipop.”

There was one chick on a stage with silver airplane propellers on her breasts. A customer stuffed hundred-dollar bills down the front of her thong while leaning close enough to her twirling blades to cool off.

“I think we hit the jackpot,” Ariel said before moving farther inside the club.

Leigh remained fascinated by everything. It was like they had crashed some secret club and she was taking notes on everything she saw. “So who do we talk to about planning the party?” she shouted over Li’l Wayne’s infectious beat.

“I’m not sure.” Ariel turned and nearly collided with a waitress in a sheer nude outfit. “Oops. Sorry.”

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” the woman said, flashing a genuine smile. “I can keep this tray up during a 7.0 Richter-scale earthquake.”

The women laughed.

“Wait. Maybe you can help us,” Leigh said. “Who do we talk to about booking a bachelorette party?”

“Oh, we don’t do bachelorette parties,” she said apologetically. “Wish that we did. I wouldn’t mind a little change in scenery from time to time.”

“And why not?” Ariel challenged.

“Well, because we don’t employ male strippers, honey.” The waitress thought about it. “But I guess if a lesbian couple wanted a party—”

“Who’s the boss around here?” Ariel demanded. She was already putting on her lawyer hat.

“Well, there’s one of them sitting over there. His name is Quentin Hinton. Good luck—and watch out for the dimples. They have a way of seducing you into bed.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Ariel said, straightening her shoulders and then marching off to war.

Leigh rolled her eyes and rushed after her. “Ariel, this is not a big deal. We can just go to the clubs that—”

“Excuse me.” Ariel tapped the tall gentleman at the bar on the shoulder. “Are you Mr. Hinton?”

The man turned around smiling. “That all depends on who’s asking.”

That waitress wasn’t kidding about those damn dimples. They winked at Ariel and suddenly she was standing as still as a statue.

“Can I help you with something?”

Leigh looked at her girl, and then became concerned. “Ariel?” She elbowed her and jarred her out of whatever system malfunction she was experiencing.

“Um, yeah. I wanted to book a bachelorette party,” Ariel said, forcing resolve back into her voice.

“Aw, getting married. My condolences.” He held up his glass in a lone toast.

“I take it you don’t believe in marriage,” Leigh said.

Hinton shifted his gaze from Ariel over to Leigh and his brows climbed an added notch. “As a matter of fact…I don’t.” He cocked his head. “Hey, don’t I know you?” His eyes narrowed as they roamed over every inch of her body. “Face is familiar, but I’m
certain
that I’ve never been acquainted with that body. I’d remember.”