Heard It All Before (25 page)

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Authors: Michele Grant

BOOK: Heard It All Before
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I laughed; I couldn't help it. I'd never heard of the man holding out before. “What am I, on restriction?” I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist.
He stepped away and peeled my hands off him. He was serious and he said so. “I'm serious, Jewellen. You can splay yourself out spread-eagle on that bed buck naked with whipped cream and I won't touch you.”
Well, now I was mad. What the hell was going on in here? “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, until you apologize for comparing me to Tricky Rick and bringing his name up in my bed, you can just go without.” And with a cocky little grin, he went back into the bedroom.
Pretty sure of himself, wasn't he? “Who says I'll go without? Plenty of fish in the sea, player,” I said silkily as I followed him. I had an irritating smirk plastered on too. Knew I was crossing the line but was too damn mad to care.
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at me. “We don't seriously wanna go boating down that river, do we, Jewellen?” I actually felt a twinge of fear when he looked at me like that. Not fear that he would hurt me or anything like that. It was a gut feeling, fleeting and quick. His was a no-nonsense, don't-jack-with-me look you really couldn't ignore. I backtracked a little.
“Uh, no, we don't.” I might have been mad, but I wasn't out of my mind.
He nodded once and climbed into bed. Methodically, he started clicking off appliances.
I crawled in on my damn side, too pissed to argue about which side I was on. So pissed in fact, that I got back up and headed for the door.
“Where you going?” he asked.
“To sleep in Chase's room.”
“Don't trust yourself not to pounce in the night, huh?
Je comprends, chère, notre amour, cette passion. . . c'est puissant, non
?”
He was stooping low to whip out the French on me. He said, “I understand, darling, our love, our passion ... it's powerful, no?” I really wanted to smack him. Really. But I didn't feel up to losing another fight tonight. Besides, I did have my pride. I turned around and got back under the covers, staying well on my side of the bed. “You might want to know that I've gone without before and can again. For as long as it takes.”
He chuckled softly. “Of course, during that time, you were angry at all men, you built up a business that required all your spare time and energy, you bought and furnished a house, and had no one around to tempt you. Now, the memory of how we are together is fresh in that fertile mind of yours. And here's a warm body, not four feet away from you with nothing but a few measly words keeping you from getting what you want, for as long as you can stand it. You already know how it is between us. You wanna live without it for the sake of pride?
Eh, Bijou
?” He eased a little closer to me. He ran his tongue along the side of my neck in a way that drove me crazy, and don't think for one minute he didn't know that. He slid one hand down to rest on my hip and started rubbing in little circles. “
Eh, Bijou
, you have something to say to me?”
I reminded myself that there was more to our relationship than sex. Okay, great sex. Okay, mind-altering sex. I reminded myself that I had to be at work in the morning, looking well rested and professional. I reminded myself that he was going to have to go without too. Didn't take much to remind me how pissed I was at the boy and wouldn't have him if he begged right now. I refused to apologize. I was
not
sorry. What we had here was some sort of childish power play. What, I couldn't say certain things in his bedroom, but he could say whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted? Bump that. And let me get this straight—if I didn't toe the line and do what he wanted, I was cut off? So now we had this sex game, who could hold out longer? Damn the nonsense. I know I can sometimes be stubborn merely for stubborn's sake, but in this instance, I'd done nothing wrong. “Good night, Roman,” I said firmly.
“So that's the way it's gonna be?” he said softly, and ran a finger down my spine. His breath was all up on my neck.
I jerked forward out of his reach and snapped out, “Sleep well, player.”
“
Ah, bon nuit, Juliet
.”
It was two hours later as I lay in the dark listening to him snoring away like all was right with his world while I was literally stewing in all my own juices that I remembered something. He never did tell me what he had on Renee.
24
Just Messy
Renee—Thursday, January 19, 7:46 p.m.
 
 
I
was on the treadmill in the cardio area next to Jewellen. God I hated coming to the gym. Half of these damn girls didn't need to be here no way. Pencil thin, not an ounce of fat on 'em. This was one of those new state-of-the-art gyms. Every damn thing was computerized and high tech. I slid my card into a box on the side of the treadmill, and it greeted me and automatically set my pace. After I was done, it was set to remind me to get on the thigh machine. God, I really hated it. But you had to stay fine. This world was all about packaging, no lie. Jewel was on the StairMaster, cursing up a storm. Now, even though my hair was getting nappy and sweat was rolling off me in rivers, I had to smile. You know why?
'Cause my shit was straight. Finally got the career hooked up, bank account smiling. I was looking good, got the good man hooked and reeled. Nothing left but the net. June 7, I would land that fish for better or for worse. Better be better.
Now that my ducks were in a row, I had to get Jewel to come correct. Couldn't have my girl going out like this.
I've thought about it a lot, and all I could say was, Rome ain't the one for her. He got too much baggage, too much ghetto in him, too much attitude. Just too much shit, period. She didn't need that. That hip-hopper-done-good, street-smart-turned-savvy shit had to wear thin on her ass sooner or later. No matter how down she tried to be, Jewellen was an uptown girl through and through. Let me put it like this: she was croissants and mimosas, he was Wonder Bread and Kool-Aid.
Now what about me and Greggy? Couldn't the same be said of us? No. It was totally different. Everyone knew that women adapt to their surroundings a whole lot better than men; I could
be
croissants. Rome would always be, at best, toasted Wonder Bread.
We switched to the Nautilus machines, and I took a good look at my girl. She didn't look happy. Not the regular unhappy look that you get trying to push fifty pounds of resistance with your upper arms. A deep-down unhappy. Something wasn't right.
“Wanna knock off and go to the snack bar?” I asked. Any excuse to avoid that thigh thing.
“Yeah, sounds good.”
We walked upstairs, sat down, and ordered strawberry protein smoothies. After they came, I started in. “So, girl, how's Rome?” No use beating around the bush.
Jewel shot me a suspicious look. “He's fine.”
I smirked. “Yeah, he is that. But how y'all doing?”
“Why are you asking, Renee?”
I raised my brow. Homegirl was tense and defensive. Was there trouble in paradise? “Girl, what's up? Y'all seemed so happy after Christmas.” Matter of fact, they came back disgustingly happy, all sunkissed and shit. I went over to flash my rock and could hardly get a word in with the two of them all cuddled up and slobbering on each other. Sick the way that boy kept her wrapped up. Hope she ain't whipped; brother did look like he knew how to throw it.
Jewel rolled her eyes. “Who wouldn't be happy after a great vacation in Mexico? The weather was perfect. My mom finally gave up on the idea that Patrick and I will ever get together again. Once she got over it, she actually allowed herself to like Roman a little. After he bought her the ugliest straw hat I'd ever seen, she couldn't say enough good things about him. Hell, one afternoon, I caught him and Dad doing tequila shots by the hotel pool. Another night, we all went out dancing.” She smiled to herself. “Yeah, it was a good time.”
Right off, I noticed that she stressed
was
. But I decided not to press her on it. I went another direction. “Talked to Trick the other day.”
Jewel grinned a funny little grin, like there was a private joke I wasn't getting. “Oh, yeah?”
I pounced. “Have you talked to him?”
She laughed shortly. “Not hardly. How are he and Stace?”
I threw the bait out there. “Oh, not so great.”
“Hmm, too bad.” She didn't even nibble.
“He's still not over you, you know.” Dangle, dangle. I was doing this for her own good.
“He said that, huh?”
“He sure did, girl.”
“Figures.”
“What?”
Jewel shrugged. “I'm surprised to be the only one to figure this out, but Patrick's always in love with the one he's left, not the one he's with. If Stace wants to keep him, she should leave him before he leaves her.”
“I think he really loves you, Jewellen.”
She stopped swirling her straw around and looked straight at me. “Can't resist, can you?”
I blinked innocently. “What?”
She sighed. “Renee, I'm sorry you and Roman don't get along, but I'm not leaving him for Patrick. Truth be told, unless something drastic happens, I'm not leaving him, period.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “Yeah, if we split up, he's gonna have to walk, not me.”
For some reason, that really pissed me off. I mean, how could she be so secure about it? Drastic things happen all the time. What made her think she was immune? No relationship was ironclad. Apparently I had a nasty expression on my face, 'cause when she looked up, she grinned at me.
“Don't look so fierce, Renee. What's he got on you anyway?”
“Huh?”
“Did he catch you in a compromising position with Brother Beau or what? Come on, girl, what's really going on?”
Now, why she had to bring Beau into it, I didn't know. Whatever I decided to do about or with Beau was my business and mine alone. Roman didn't need to put his nose in it and neither did she. But that would be like admitting I was planning on doing wrong. So instead I said, “Jewellen, I'm marrying Gregory.”
She laughed outright, her first genuine display of humor all day—wouldn't you know it was at my expense? “Yeah, six months from now. And in the meantime, what happens?”
“I haven't even seen Beau,” I lied smoothly.
She shrugged again. “You will.”
“Jewel!” I protested. It was true, though. It was just a matter of time.
“Renee, I know you. You want that man so bad, you're probably wearing poor Gregory out night and day. Beau is that pretty boy you've talked about wanting since freshman year of college. Everyone has a personal fantasy weakness, girl. Yours is that tall, fine, part corporate, part thug pretty boy with just enough exotic sex appeal to make everyone in the room want him but he's with you. Beau is that fantasy come to life for you. And here he is, oh so available. Kid Greg because you have to, kid yourself if you feel you need to, but remember who I am—you ain't fooling me.”
She was right on the money. Nothing was more irritating than to have someone tell you about yourself. “You totally misunderstand the situation. I love Greg. I'd never do anything to hurt him.”
She snorted. “You love what Greg is, not who he is. And aren't you the one always saying ‘what they don't know won't hurt them'?”
I pushed my drink away. “That's a shitty thing to say, homegirl. Really shitty.” It was a sure sign we've been friends too long if she could so easily throw my own words back against me.
She laughed again. “What? You want me to apologize? Join the club.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, and I didn't want to know. She didn't sound remorseful any damn way. She made me sound so shallow, like I only loved Greg for what he could do for me and what we could have together. It ain't even like that. If you took away Greg's money, position at the bank, good family name, excellent breeding, and the BMW, I would still ... I would ...
Damn, I would never have given him the time of day. Well, I might have had to swing a little episode or two, 'cause the brother was horizontally talented. But then again, those were the things that make up who Greg was, right? So I did love him, and that was why I planned on marrying him. I mean, you think he would have given me the time of day if I was plain and overweight, working at the gas station with no ambition to do otherwise? Not hardly.
Besides, how'd we get onto this? I was talking about Rome. Man, I hated it when she turned shit around on me.
“What I was trying to say before all of this came up is that you don't seem happy with Rome.”
“We're fine,” she snapped, reticent again.
“You were happy with Patrick. Just don't miss the forest for the trees, girl.”
“Uh-huh. And what about Stace? I suppose I just trample over her to get to him, hmm?”
I shrugged. “Hey, I like Stace, but she wasn't worried about your li'l feelings when she jumped on him like the first boat outta Timbuktu. You hear me? You gotta give as good as you get in the world, girl.” Shit, it was tough out there; sometimes you gotta let the rules go, make your own. Long as you got yours.
“One good turn deserves another?” Jewel asked.
Now she was getting it. “Exactly.”
“What about two wrongs don't make a right?”
I shook my head. “See, girl, you always take shit one step too far.”
“Uh-hmm.”
“Listen, just do this. I told Patrick to call you so y'all can talk. When he calls, can you be open and receptive?”
“I can.”
“Will you?”
“Like I was open and receptive when he ripped my heart out and flew back to Georgia without so much as a good-bye?”
“Jewellen, let the past go, girl.” She was still real bitter about that.
“Renee.”
“Hmm?”
“Leave it be, girl.”
“But, Jew—”
“As long as we've been friends, through all of our ups and down, are you really going to try and run game on me now?”
“I'm not running game, Jewel. I'm up in your Kool-Aid because I believe this is what's best for you.”
“No, really. To coin one of your clichés, whatever will be, will be, okay?”
True enough, but who was to say that we couldn't nudge things in the direction we wanted? I pretended to let it drop. “Fine, let's talk about the plans for the wedding.”
Gregory—Friday, January 27, 1:29 p.m.
I was in a state of confusion. Some shit was funky. As I sat in the restaurant waiting for a waitress to notice me, I reflected on the fact that despite the declarations of love, the great sex, and the impending wedding, something was wrong between me and Renee. I had tried looking at it as objectively as I could from all angles. I had to conclude that whatever it was, it wasn't me and there was nothing I could do about it. The worse thing was, I couldn't put my finger on it. Was hard as hell to find a solution if you're not sure what the problem was.
Of course, it could just be that I was in a foul mood because they were going to announce the promotions at the bank this afternoon. I was up for regional director of special projects. Not only would it mean a hefty pay hike, but it also meant a step closer to the vice-president position I hoped to reach before age forty. That was why I took off for a solitary lunch. I couldn't sit in the office, waiting and thinking. I hated it when things are all up in the air. It made me uneasy. With a sigh, I reached for a menu.
“Gregory?” I looked up from the list of lunch specials to see Roni Mae standing beside my table. I blinked once or twice, because I'd never seen her look like this.
This
meaning, this together. She had on a navy suit with high-heeled sandals. The skirt was short, and I was shocked to notice that Roni had legs. Nice legs. Her hair was in a normal style, and she had subtle makeup on. Roni Mae with clear lip gloss! It was new but it was nice. She shifted uncomfortably as I scanned her up and down, and I grinned. She was going to have to get used to men giving her the once-over.
“Sorry, Veronica. You look nice.” She looked stunned that I knew her real name. Looking like she did, she looked like a Veronica, not a Roni Mae. “So what brings you downtown?”
She grimaced. “Meeting with my lawyer; it's contract-negotiation time.”
I nodded. “A necessary evil.” I knew I was making her uneasy with the way I was looking at her, but I couldn't believe how much she'd changed from the catsuited blond woman I met about nine months ago. I wondered how much weight she'd lost. I couldn't remember her having a waistline before. Roni was ... well, shit, she was fine! And it wasn't just the weight—she had a pretty face now that I could see it.
She cleared her throat. “Well, don't let me keep you from your lunch. I'll just grab a table over there.” She turned away, and I reached out and grabbed her hand. Her skin was soft and smelled of peaches and vanilla. Now why would I notice something like that? I
had
been under stress lately, and weird shit has been in my head.

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