Love Delivered (16 page)

“You didn’t tell me you were coming.” Stenton didn’t have to yell over the music as much as Tynisha did in V.I.P. because we were out of the main hall.

“I didn’t know I had to.” My tone and glower matched his.

“I think you should’ve considering I don’t know who’s caring for Jordan.”

Did he really go there?

“Jordan is with his family. If you want to know so much, call Eligia. You do employ her.”

“Zo…”

“What? Don’t you have someone waiting on you? I do.” I tried backing away, preparing to leave.

“Zo,” he grabbed my arm again, scowl still set. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d be here. This isn’t your scene.”

“You don’t know my scene, Stenton. You don’t really know me. If I recall correctly, we didn’t have a lot of time together for you to know me.”

Stenton exhaled while throwing his head back.

“Go back to your
Niña
. I’m sure you’ve been away too long. She’s nearsighted and can’t see you all the way out here.” That was a cheap shot. I’d been drinking. I didn’t care.

“Zo, you know I don’t go around…bestowing that name on random broads. I only know one Niñ—”

“Knew. You knew
a
Niña. Now you know a Jordan,
and apparently
, an Erika.

“Don’t start that shit. I didn’t know you’d be here.” He exhaled harshly, brushing his face with his hands. “I saw the look on your face. You think I knew?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m glad I came. It’s good to see Google is spot on for getting to know celebrities.”

This time I did walk away. I marched over to tell Tynisha and the girls I was leaving. It was pretty late anyway; I’d been off my schedule.

“How are you getting back to your hotel?” Tynisha asked alarmed.

“I’ll catch a cab.” I shrugged. I just wanted out.

“Hang on,” she shouted before going to whisper something to Alton.

He then started typing into his phone, I assumed to call me a ride. I was relieved. I thought she was going to ask me to wait a little while longer to share the limo we took over. Within two minutes, Tynisha took me by the arm and gave away her blotto when stumbling through the crowds behind her security to the door. There, waiting out in front, was a luxury SUV with a waiting driver.

“Good night, Mascot. I’ll call you in the morning for breakfast,” Tynisha informed.

“No need. I’m sleeping in and then doing some sightseeing all afternoon.” I tried holding my clutch to my face, hiding from the blinding flashes from paparazzi. I didn’t understand how Tynisha, Alton and Stenton could get adjusted to that type of lifestyle.

“Okay. Then I’ll send my crew over to get you glammed for the game tomorrow night.”

I shook my head. “I’ll pass on that, too. I have a date.”

“With who?” Tynisha’s bottom lip fell to her Giuseppe’s.

I smirked. “The Frenchman.”

“Oh, shit! Well, I’ll still send my crew. You’ll need to be right for that. I’m glad you’re going to stop being a prude. Get it, Mascot!”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know about all of that, but it’ll be nice to officially go out with him.” I turned to climb into the truck as I waved goodbye.

She stood there in a stupor as I pulled off. I guess she, too, was surprised at my decision to move ahead with Jacques. Once seated in the truck, I immediately wafted in a flowery scent, presumably perfume. I wondered whose truck this was. I’d guessed it was too late to ask now that I was en route to my hotel. I relaxed against the head rest, trying to process my run-in with Stenton. Why did he keep repeating he didn’t know I’d be there? I extended my tired legs ahead while simultaneously stretching my arms. First I hit a small object with my right arm, and then the toe of my pumps bumped into something on the floor. I glanced first to my right and picked up the tube of lip gloss with the Erceg brand name printed across it. My brain rushed in motion. I leaned over to inspect the items I kicked. They were flip flops with the rectangular Erceg logo sewn on the insole.

“Ma’am, Mr. Rogers said you’re staying at the Hilton. Is that correct?”

Holy mother of Joseph! This is Stenton and Erika’s car! What was he thinking?

“
Ye
-yes.” I cleared my voice.

Dropping the items, I slammed my head back, wanting this nightmare to be over. I arrived back at my suite far more disoriented than any alcohol could induce. I stripped out of my costume—because that’s what it felt like—and showered before crawling into bed. With minimal tossing and turning, I found my way to sleep.

That next evening, after my tourist excursion and preparing for dinner with Jacques, I was at the
French Room
with him, enjoying fine wine…and his alluring teasing. It wasn’t the usual coquetry that turned me off for months before. This one was more customized for me. Jacques had come correct with his game. Oh, I was still very aware of his end game. It’s just that tonight I didn’t care. I wanted to be preyed upon…or more appropriately, to prey on an unknowing one.

“You should come on my boat. You’d love it,” he murmured, calming his mirth. Then he brushed away an errant lock of my hair from my face. His tone swiftly lowered when he growled, “You’d be beautiful on the bow. Stretched out, wearing nothing but this caramel shell and your heavy locks of hair. I’d enjoy it. I’d enjoy you.”

Even through the thickness of his accent, Jacques’ desires were abundantly clear. Tonight, nothing about it made me squeamish. Nothing about his overt yearnings seemed offensive or alarming. No. Tonight, I wanted to erase all of my previous conceptions of intimacy. Expunge all I ever knew about sex and rediscover it under the ministrations of another man. Jacques talked a lot of mess over the past few months. Surely, he was guaranteed to make me experience amnesia.

I slowly reached for my drink. “I don’t know about all of that, but you can give me a preview of sampling this caramel…tonight.” I squared eyes with him after taking a nip. “Back at my suite.”

Jacques didn’t speak, he didn’t flinch. No. He exhaled long and sensually, dispelling his pending desire for me. I relished my feminine control over him. I was ready. I’d just opened the door to exit for my new. My change.

Hastily, Jacques led me out to his limo, and I’d just hit
Send
on my phone before hopping in.      

~~~~~~~~~~

~
Stenton
~

Shit!

Massaging my pounding temples, I tried numbing the memory of her desolate expression. I had no idea she’d be here. Sarah never mentioned it. Not that she had reason to. I hadn’t spoken to her all week, I’d been running that damn hard. I had spoken to Jordan via Eligia when I called first thing this morning, and nothing was mentioned about a schedule change for him
or his damn mother
!

That fucking Ty had crossed the line with this one. I’d asked her to befriend Zoey, not to bring her to the damn lion’s den. What the hell was she thinking?

“You okay, babe?” Erika purred from the sofa next to me. “You want some aspirin or something? I can have Josh fetch you something.”

I shook my head, fucking frustrated, further annoyed by the lack of privacy. There was always a “gathering” or just “a few people over” with Erika. It was like she was allergic to the peace of being alone. The shit annoyed the fuck out of me. We left the club and on the way back, in the truck, she informed with her baby voice and puckered lips that there would be “a few people over” for drinks here at our suite. Still caught up in thought about Zoey’s presence at the club and trying to withstand a steeping headache, I didn’t think to cancel the notion. I came back to the hotel, showered the scent of the club away and threw on a sweat suit. Now, I was sitting in the living room with seven people I barely knew.

I felt like shit emotionally and physically. Zoey and I were as distant as ever now. And when I learned that Erika’s pretentious ass tweeted that picture of my thigh, I almost lost it on her. “
But you said no official pictures…like for promos and stuff
.
This was one I took from my phone. It’s different,
” she cried when I reamed her ass out about it, demanding she take the shit down. I’d put her ass on time out for a couple of days, ignoring texts and refusing calls. I needed a breather. I didn’t sign up for my private life to be on public display.

And to give off the impression that our sex life was any more than the fucking joke it was had been comical
. I’d finally given in and started fucking her in hopes of it forcing me to follow my plan of giving Zoey the room she needed from me to spread her wings. I’d continue to make love to her if I could and still allow her to experience life without my influence, but there was no way of that happening. Our chemistry was too potent. Our love was too addictive and soul reaching. I’d always known it, and those facts had been highlighted since I moved on to another lover.

Erika was a poser, and actor. She made all the right sounds at the ideal times during sex, thinking that contrived bullshit turned me on. The first few times she wanted me to believe she was enjoying it when I knew she was simply enduring it. Erika couldn’t take the dick—at least not mine. As of recently she’d come around, but there was certainly no astounding chemistry between us. She didn’t do it for me like that. Her perfect olive frame…bountiful tits, robust ass—that I’d started to believe wasn’t a feature she was born with—was every man’s wet dream. But Erika couldn’t fuck to save her botoxed life. Yeah, she indulged in that a bit, too.

And then there was the trust factor. I had none for her. Erika spent too much time measuring her outward persona. So this meant everything we did had to be on full display to her fans. Nothing was organic. I didn’t honestly know who she was, which was why I never exposed her to bondage. I couldn’t trust her confidence, couldn’t risk her slip to the wrong person and having it on TMZ like her deleted tweet. Jackson pegged her right with having a docile personality. She was sweet. Just shallow as hell.

Zoey saw the tweet
.

Of course she did. And truthfully, out of all the venom she spit outside of the restroom, the accusation of the tattoo not being a reference to her burned the shit out of me. Who else would I refer to as
Niña
? She’d seared me with that fucking jab. I wanted to toss her over my shoulder and take her to the nearest bed to remind her of my obsession with her, my never ending desire for her. Shit… Seeing her in that tight ass mini dress did shit to me while inhaling her familiar fragrance.

Fuck!

My phone went off in my lap.

Alton:
I found this shit on Nisha phone bro. WTF!

Then another text came through. This one an image of a bedazzled telephone screen. Within seconds, I could surmise it was an exchange between Tynisha and Zoey where Zoey said she was finally going to go through with it and that she was on her way to her suite with the “Frenchman.”

I didn’t think. I leaped to my feet and ran out of the door. Behind me, I could make out Erika’s alarming, “Babe! Hold up! What’s wrong? Where are you going?”

I had no time to answer; I needed to get to Zoey’s hotel, which I knew was around the corner and a few blocks from mine.

“Hang on, chief?” Barry called after me once out in the hall, but I didn’t answer. I hauled ass to the nearest exit and down the stairs.

I don’t know if I registered the stragglers in the lobby or in front of the hotel building, I just ran. The Frenchman reference ran through my brain. I knew who this “Frenchman” was. I’d been keeping tabs on Zoey and knew Jacques Moreau was sniffing after her ass. With a few calls, I was able to learn he was an associate of a friend of mine, Steve. In no time, I understood he liked black pussy and clearly wanted Zoey’s. I didn’t think he’d ever get Zoey’s because he was too forceful and I knew that characteristic would serve as a repellant to her intelligence.

So what the fuck, Niña!

“Hood, chief! Put on your hood!” I recognized as Barry’s tenor behind me.

That demand rolled over me. I didn’t consider being recognized by anyone. Somewhere deep in my psyche I knew it was after two in the morning, but I couldn’t give a shit. At some point, I felt rain drops and ironically thought
then
to drape my head with the hood of my sweat suit. I don’t know how long it took to get to the Hilton, but I wasn’t there fast enough. I didn’t have to ask for her room info at the reception desk. I made a dash for the staircase there and flew up to the penthouse level. Once on the floor, I looked left then right before heading for the suite map. My lungs felt like they were bleeding, racing wild. I found her door, banged on it with urgency. Feeling my entire upper body roll in uncontrolled rhythm and my legs burn, I waited two seconds and banged again.

The fuck!

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Then I heard the sound of the exit door behind me. I glanced and found Rob and Barry seconds later, heaving just as hard as I was, if not more. Rob flogged his arms. I didn’t have time to answer. With a keen ear, I heard the faint sound of music through the door.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“No, baby…no!” I caught the cry in my own damn voice. “Answer the fucking door, Zo!”