Aftermath (29 page)

Archie stripped her out of her clothes and she helped him, eagerly pulling her Rachel Roy dress over her head. Climbing out of his pajamas, he mounted her, stroking her face and sucking ever so softly on each of her breasts with an erotic mixture of pleasure and pain. Their lovemaking spanned hours and sounded nearly animalistic as she came over and over again. He palmed her ample ass in his big hands, kneading it as he grinded into her and felt her wetness engulf him in a creamy tidal wave. Finally, after nearly two hours of alternating positions and unparalleled pleasure, Archie came. Sweaty and out of breath, he collapsed on top of her, his long dick still lodged limply within her sugar walls, and fell asleep, cradling her in his arms. Dominique smiled, feeling more content than she had in all her years of fucking with bitch-ass Jamel, and drifted into a peaceful and euphoric sleep.

It was four o'clock in the morning when she awoke to Archie spooning her. Her hair was a mess, the sheets were wet from a mixture of sweat and secretions and morning breath had crept up on them both. Still, Archie pulled her close to him from behind, her ass resting against his hard dick. Slipping on a condom, he entered her sideways, stroking her to paradise once more.

She didn't recall falling asleep again, but apparently she had. It was now after ten o'clock in the morning and Dominique hadn't even bothered to check in at the office. True, it was Friday and it was unlikely that any real work would get done the day after the Grammys. But it was so uncharacteristic of her to play hooky so boldly from the job she cherished.

She pondered going into work, and it seemed as if Archie read her mind. As he stirred awake, he noticed her sitting up in bed and pulled her back down beside him. Wrapping her in his strong embrace he kissed her neck.

“Don't leave yet,” he said. “I don't have anywhere to be today.”

Dominique was tempted. His voice seemed to pull her toward him, but she resisted. “I have some things I need to do.”

He frowned. “What you have to do?”

She thought about it. There was really nothing that warranted her immediate attention. Still, it seemed odd for her to remain there with him in the daylight hours. She shrugged. “I don't know. But I don't do this,” she said, gesturing at the bed in which they lay.

He pulled away slightly and smiled at her. “You don't do what? Relax?”

Dominique was caught off guard by that.

“You
don't
really relax, do you?” he pressed. “Every time I see you or talk to you, you are going somewhere or doing something.”

She thought about it. It was true. She felt as if her life was in a constant state of self-imposed “fast-forward.” “You're right.”

“So stay. Relax.”

Dominique took a deep breath and thought it over.
Fuck it!
She settled into the crook of his arm and draped one of her legs across his. Archie grabbed the remote to the large-screen TV perched on his bedroom's far wall and turned on a Showtime series on demand. He explained the premise to her and before she knew it they'd watched five consecutive episodes. With their bodies intertwined, they napped off and on throughout the day. They'd wake up and have long conversations, their faces merely inches apart.

One such discussion involved her relationship with Jamel.

“So, your man is home now, no?” Archie asked.

Dominique rolled her eyes. She shook her head. “Not for long.” She looked at him with an expression that showed her disdain. “He came home a month ago, got right back on the block and right back in his baby mama's bed.”

Archie scoffed at that. “With a good woman like you behind him?”

Dominique nodded. She knew she was a good woman and that Jamel was too dumb to realize it.

“Well, he's a fool, then. If he couldn't see that he had a good thing, it's his loss.”

Dominique agreed. “I just feel kinda dumb, you feel me? I should have known better,” she said. “He ain't shit, and everybody realized that but me. It's just a matter of time before he winds up right back in jail.”

Archie listened as she blamed herself for her ex's shortcomings and rubbed her feet as they lay in bed. “Well, you learn lessons as you go along. Don't beat yourself up about it.”

Dominique grinned. “I think the lesson is to lock my heart away inside a fortress.”

Archie smiled. “I don't think that's it.”

“What is it then?” Dominique propped herself up on one elbow and looked at him for the answer.

“You have to peep the warning signs sooner next time. You can still love. Just make sure you're gettin' the same love and respect in return. And just because one man doesn't appreciate you don't mean that no other man ever will.”

Dominique thought about it as she massaged his chiseled chest. Archie gave her some purple kush to puff on while she relaxed. It felt blissful and the entire day passed with them lying there that way. The sun had risen and gone down again without either of them bothering to stray too far from the comfort they found in Archie's big bed.

From time to time, they checked their cell phones and noticed missed calls relating to each of their businesses. They responded to the quick fixes and ignored anything that would separate them for an extended period of time. For the first time in far too long, Dominique felt like a man not only appreciated her presence but cherished it. He made her feel so good that she wanted to make sure she did all she could to make him feel the same way.

At last, at nearly 7:00
P.M.
, Dominique gathered her things, kissed Archie for endless moments as she bid him a reluctant good-bye, and headed home to get her heart in check.

*   *   *

“So you're pregnant?”

Eli didn't hide his disappointment, and then felt badly for that. “I don't mean it like that. I mean I'm happy for you, but … damn.”

Camille had to admit that this was pretty tough luck—that she would meet a handsome, single man who liked her right after she'd discovered she was pregnant by her philandering husband. “I think I'm in this by myself, though,” she said, sadly. “My marriage is over, so I gotta move on. New year, new start, you know?”

Eli knew she was trying to sound optimistic, and he felt sorry for her. It had to be hard watching her marriage fall apart before her eyes. “I hear you,” he said. She ate her grilled chicken sandwich and Eli watched her as she chewed. He thought she was adorable.

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.” He took a bite of his quarter pounder and thought about the other things she had told him. “So you said you're staying in Long Island now?”

She nodded. “Yeah, with my mom. I needed to get away from it all.” Camille didn't elaborate.

“I live in Queens. That's not so far away. Since you're pregnant, you'll probably be hungry a lot over the next few months. I can meet you at your neighborhood Mickey D's. Cheer you up every now and then.” He took another bite.

Camille stared at him for several seconds and then frowned. “Why?” she asked. “I mean why to
all
of this? You live in Queens. So on your day off you drive all the way out here to Staten Island to ring my bell and ask me out … all because you thought I was cute when you kicked me out of—”

“I didn't kick you out,” Eli corrected, his mouth half full. “I was very nice.”

“Whatever.” Camille was confused. “You came all the way out here for what?”

“To ask you out,” he said. “It
is
my day off, but I had to go to court downtown this morning to testify in a case. Afterwards, I thought about you. Like I told you, I had your address and I decided to stop by and take my chances.”

“You came all that way to find me because you thought I was cute?”

He nodded and Camille twisted her face into a doubtful expression.

“You must think I'm younger or dumber than I really am.”

Eli shrugged. “I was curious,” he admitted. “Your husband is laid up with his mistress in a multimillion-dollar Upper East Side town house. You got on a coat worth more than what I make in a month, driving the brand-new Range. And despite all that obvious wealth, I thought you seemed …
sad,
really sad and kinda fragile. So I was intrigued. I kept thinking about you and I wanted to find out more, to see if you were willing to give a guy like me a chance with a woman like you.”

Camille wasn't buying it. “A woman like me. You don't even know me.”

“I'm trying to get to know you.”

“And now I tell you that I'm pregnant by my husband and you still want to hang out with me. Why?”

Eli finished chewing and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He looked at Camille and figured he had nothing to lose by leveling with her.

“I've only been a cop for two years, but I see women like you all the time,” he said. “Battered women with beautiful faces and expensive homes.”

“I'm not a battered woman,” Camille corrected, slightly offended. This nigga thought he had her all figured out.

“Not physically maybe. But emotionally, verbally probably, he batters you.”

Camille listened, hearing the truth in what Eli was saying to her.

“And he has you living lavishly and wearing big fur coats and bigger diamonds. So you deal with it.” He sipped his Fanta. “I think—and correct me if I'm wrong—that after a while, when you deal with shit like that for so long, it lowers your self-esteem. You start to forget that there's more to you than a pretty face and pretty clothes.”

Camille thought maybe Eli was on to something after all.

“So, when I saw you that night standing there looking so beautiful and so upset at the same time, my heart went out to you, first of all.” He popped a French fry in his mouth. “You were
mad
! And even though you were pissed off, I thought you looked so much better than his side chick.”

Camille laughed, which made Eli smile. “Seriously,” he said. He opened up a packet of ketchup. “I couldn't help noticing how pretty you were even though you were obviously hurt. Your husband seemed like an asshole for letting his side chick call the cops on you. So I'll admit that I drove out here to ask you out, hoping that we would hit it off and I could make you forget that lame husband, maybe give you a shoulder to cry on.”

Camille didn't respond.

“So now … I see that you got a situation.” He ate another fry and looked at her. “But I still think you're beautiful. And I still think you need to forget about him. Just 'cuz you got a bun in the oven doesn't mean we can't hang out. It's not like you got the cooties or something.” He grinned, revealing dimples.

Camille sipped her milkshake. “You really think I'm cuter than she is?”

He nodded. “Definitely.” He passed her an apple pie, which she readily accepted. “I'm a good guy. You should get to know me.”

Camille finished her lunch and did just that.

*   *   *

Mayra Nobles sat
on the edge of her bed and lit a cigarette. Her lover ran his fingers through her long thick hair and she smiled. Guy was so affectionate with her, so attentive. She closed her eyes as he glided his fingertips down the small of her back, kissed the nape of her neck.

“Stay with me,” she purred. “Spend the night.”

Guy was tempted. He wanted her so badly that he would have gladly sacrificed everything in order to have Mayra all to himself. She was a lovely and voluptuous woman with sexiness dripping from her every crevice. But money was important to her, and until Doug Nobles's will was executed, Mayra was playing the role of grieving widow to the hilt. If her affair with Guy was uncovered, she knew that Celia, Baron, or even Gillian might try to shut her out. As long as that was the case, Mayra would do anything she could to preserve that inheritance. Therefore, spending the night with her in the very bed she had shared with her dead husband was out of the question, no matter how much they both wanted it.

“Next time,” he lied. He got out of bed and began to get dressed as she watched him.

The infamous Guy London was one of the best entertainment lawyers in the game. Guy was one of her late husband's closest friends, a friend who had steered him toward numerous ventures through which Doug Nobles had funneled tons of illegal money over the years. He was handsome and self-assured, and was married to a former supermodel who wasn't ready to let go of the limelight just yet. His trysts with Mayra had started a year ago during a dinner party at which Doug Nobles had been present, parked in his wheelchair downstairs while Guy had his wife pinned to the wall in the master bathroom.

Mayra had been eager for her slice of the Nobles fortune, but hadn't expected it to end so violently and tragically. Doug Nobles had been a sick man, diagnosed with multiple sclerosis after a twelve-year stint in prison. The disease had nearly crippled him, and Mayra had struggled to come to terms with the fact that her husband, who had once been fun and spontaneous, was now anything but. She had expected that MS would continue to debilitate him, but it had been a bloody shootout that brought his life to an end instead. As the date neared for the reading of her husband's will, she pondered what she would do with the rest of her life as a wealthy widow. For now, she walked Guy to the door and kissed him good-bye. He winked at her and she giggled like a schoolgirl.

As Guy climbed into his car and blew Mayra a kiss, Gillian watched from her car cloaked in the midnight shadows across the street.

*   *   *

Toya lay back
in her bathtub surrounded by bubbles and candles and stared at the ceiling. She couldn't believe what was happening. Dominique had picked up Octavia and the two of them had gone home hours ago. Shortly afterward, Russell had stopped by unannounced. Usually, Toya would have told him off for coming by uninvited. But, this time Toya had yanked him into her home by his collar, kissed him passionately, and allowed him to ravage her. More than an hour of wild, kinky sex had followed, culminating in both of them falling asleep in her big bed. Toya had awakened, hoping it had all been a bad dream. But it wasn't. She turned over in bed only to find Russell's ugly face, mouth wide open as he snored.