Hot Boyz (7 page)

“He’s one driven man. Almost to the point of being a workaholic.”

“I’m not mad at him.”

“But that’s the Wilson men for you. And how about Cameron?”

Venus took a seat at the long kitchen table. “He’s over at his grandma’s house. Fatima’s stepmother called and asked him to spend the weekend so he’s been over there since Friday night. He’ll be back later on tonight. How have you been?”

“Cool. I’m just warning you that Colette is coming tonight.” Mercedes rinsed out a bowl to place the herb pasta in and dried it off.

“No problem.”

“I know she was pretty hard on you at the mall.”

“Oh please. She’s mild compared to what I get from some of my own friends. Or should I say ex-friends. Even Fatima’s family hates me. They only deal with Claude.”

“Sorry to hear that. They’ll come around.”

“Maybe not.” Venus picked up a glass, pointing to the lemonade. “Can I pour some? It sure looks good.”

“Go right ahead,” Mercedes said, placing the pasta and string beans on the table.

Just then, Mason answered the door to welcome in Torino and Colette as Star entered the living room headed for the kitchen with Mattie.

“Hey, man. What’s up?” Mason asked.

“Nothing much, bro. I’m just hungry as I don’t know what.”

“Mason reached for Colette. “Hey, Colette. How are you?” They gave each other a hug.

“I’m great. Thanks for having me over.”

He closed the door. “Oh, anytime, anytime. You always look like you just stepped off the pages of
Elle
magazine, especially in that pantsuit. You’ve got a future in the business for sure.”

Colette’s cheeks were flushed. “Thanks. Sometimes I wonder.” They took a seat on the sofa and Mason sat in his recliner again.
“You’ve got to know it, and be assured of yourself.”

“Torino tells me that all of the time.”

Torino put his arm around her. “She could be in Italy or Paris making big money, man.”

“Not without you, Torino,” she said, snuggling into him with a beaming grin.

Mason replied. “Now see a man can wait. But your youth and opportunity will not knock twice.”

“It would have to. I can make it right here in California if it’s meant to be.” She patted Torino’s knee.

“Okay now. Don’t let a chance pass you by,” Torino said.

“I’ll deal with that when it comes.”

Mason looked at his brother and winked, and then talked to Colette. “Venus and Mercedes are in the kitchen.”

“Oh, I’m fine right here. Oh, the Lakers are playing,” Colette said, crossing her long legs.

“Someone’s knocking at the kitchen door. I’ll get it,” Star told her mother as she got up from the kitchen table with Mattie.

Mercedes said, “That’s got to be Claude. He hasn’t used the front door in two years.”

“I know. And he never will, Mercedes.” Venus sounded concerned.

“Oh, I can imagine that must be hard on him.”

“I know, but he never mentions it,” Venus said.

Star opened the side door. “Hey, Uncle Claude. Good to see you.” She greeted him with a kiss.

“Hey, shining Star. Is everybody here?”

“Yes, now that you’re here,” Star replied.

Claude smiled and walked up to Venus and Mattie, giving them each a kiss.

“Hey, Claude,” Mercedes said, then looking to Star. “Baby, go get Rashaad out of his room and everyone else, too. Dinner is served.”

Mercedes made conversation after Mason blessed the table. “Colette is really getting a lot of attention from the retailers and talent bookers for runway assignments. Did she tell you, Torino?”

“Yes she did, actually. I’ve noticed that she’s been working a lot more lately.”

“Congratulations, Colette,” Venus said, holding a dinner roll in her left hand and fork in her right.

Colette cut her chicken in half and immediately posed a question to Claude. “So, Claude, how’s business going for you?”

“It’s great right now. Interest rates are low and home buying is up. We’re getting a lot of listings from sellers right now, too.”

“That’s great,” Colette replied as she picked up her water glass.

Claude continued talking. “My wife congratulated you, Colette. You must not have heard her.”

“Oh, that’s okay, baby,” Venus assured him.

“No, it’s not okay. Torino, you really need to make sure your woman has better manners. Especially here at the table with our mother. Mom taught us better than that.”

Torino spoke up. “Chill out, Claude. I thought Colette smiled at her after she said it.”

Claude gave her the eye. “She needs to open her mouth.”

Colette spoke while still looking down at her plate. “Thanks, Venus.”

“No problem,” Venus replied.

Torino swallowed a sip of lemonade and asked, “Anyway, Claude, what’s got you going today?”

“Not a thing. I had a great day.”

“Seems you’re always a little cranky when you’re in this house” Torino added.

“What are you trying to say?” Claude inquired.

“Just that it seems like you’re never in a good mood at dinner.” Torino put a forkful of pasta in his mouth.

Mason spoke up. “Okay now gentlemen, would you mind cutting the arrow throwing in my house. All of this because Colette didn’t respond to a compliment?”

“Really,” said Torino while chewing.

Venus tried to detour the conversation. “Mercedes, this meal is really good. I’ve never tried chicken made this way.”

“I’m glad you like it,” said Mercedes, until she noticed Claude beginning to speak again.

“Dad taught us to respect and support our women.”

Torino was calm. “You support yours, and I’ll support mine.”

Mercedes interposed, “Anyway, people, we do have teenagers at the table. Show them how we can all get along.”

“Teenagers pick up on that nonsense, too. That’s just why Colette’s not welcomed in my house with that crap,” Claude stated.

“No problem,” Torino replied. “You can rest assured of that.”

Mattie could not hold her comment any longer. “I’m about to take the two of you over my knee and tan your hides. Acting like you’re still six years old. Wait until your daddy gets home.”

Rashaad and Star laughed, obviously getting a kick out of the goings on. Mercedes gave them a look.

“What’s all this I hear about your big event at the club on Saturday night, Mason?” Venus asked, feeling a bit of sweat building up over her lip. She dabbed her mouth with her lap napkin.

Mason explained, “It’s a tribute from a role models’ organization, and I’m also giving a few performers a chance to showcase their music. I’ve invited a couple of producers so hopefully they can get lucky and work out a deal if they’re good enough.”

Venus told him, “That sounds like fun.”

“You will be there, right?” Mason asked Venus.

“Count us in,” said Venus. “Right, baby?” she asked Claude.

“Right,” he replied with reserve.

“And you, Colette?” asked Mason.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Colette said smiling.

“Well, it sounds like it’s going to be a nice evening out,” Venus interjected.

“Can we go, Mom?” asked Rashaad.

Mercedes shook her head no. “That club is twenty-one and over.”

“Even if Uncle Torino lets us in?” asked Star.

“Did you tell them they could go?” Mason asked Torino.

“As long as they stay in the restaurant area, they’ll be fine.”

Claude repeatedly shook his head at Torino and continued eating.

Mason said, “No way. No one under twenty-one in that club. I
don’t want any problems, bro. Thanks for trying to make it work but I’m afraid not.”

“Dad,” Star begged.

“No.” Mason was firm.

“What are you going to wear, Colette?” asked Venus. “Did you and Mercedes find anything in the mall the other day?”

“No,” Colette said, looking at her plate. “And how did your family like all of the stuff you bought them?” She looked toward the group. “She was really loaded down at the mall, you know, with Jordans and jewelry.”

“We liked it just fine,” Claude answered for Venus.

“It was a surprise, Colette,” Venus said, looking disappointed.

Colette went on and spoke to Claude like she had cotton in her ears. “Kind of pleases you and Cameron when she does stuff like that, huh?”

“None of your damn business,” Claude answered.

“Claude, what is your problem?” Torino asked, placing his fork down on his plate.

“The problem is your significant other who serves no significance whatsoever. Man, I’m out of here.” Claude scooted his chair out and put his napkin on his plate. “You really need to shake this one. She’s not fit to be at this table, let alone in this family. And just so you know, Colette, my lady is too much of a lady to say this so I will. If you have a problem, be woman enough to bring it up. Don’t dance all around it like some chicken.” He stood up and walked away from the table. “Let’s go, Venus.”

Venus got up as well. “I’m coming, baby. Mercedes, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Thanks for dinner.”

“Good night,” Mercedes said, rubbing her forehead.

Torino looked as though his jaw was firming. “Colette, come on.” He told Mercedes, “Were gonna go, too. I’m gonna walk her to her car and then turn in. Talk to you later. Thanks.”

Mercedes and Mason sat staring at each other as everyone left and Star and Rashaad got up from the table.

Mattie spoke next. “My boy Claude really loves that girl.”

“I’d say he does, Mom,” replied Mason.

Before Mason left town again, and after a little prompting from Mercedes, they decided to hit the town. Mason agreed to hang out but only if they ended the night his way after dinner. And his way consisted of the private, exclusive, champagne room of his buddy’s club called
T & A.
Tonight, Mercedes let her hair down, in more ways than one.

The scantily clad dancer worked her moves like a professional. Mason and Mercedes sat at the front row table of the dimly lit, tiny, private blue room just as the stripper began to work her first song. The long, tall, golden dancer stepped on stage and quickly grabbed the steel pole, making it her friend.

Mercedes’s eyes were fixed upon the girl’s rear end in wonder. “Where in the hell did she get a backside like that?” Mercedes asked Mason. Mason was unable to reply from his dropped jaw.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our next dancer, Mènage,” said the energetic announcer slash disc jockey.

The skimpily dressed waitress, who looked like she could be a dancer herself, placed a glass of orange juice and a glass of nonalcoholic beer on the tiny round table just as Mènage stared in Mason’s direction and then she focused upon Mercedes.

Mason spoke to his woman, pulling out a wad of ten-dollar bills. “Here, baby. Give her these.”

“Oh, no, you go right ahead,” Mercedes replied, staring at the
money and then eyeballing the dancer’s gyrating rear that was within three inches of her face.

“Put it in her G-string, Cedes,” Mason said, handing her the bills and then sipping the juice with his other hand.

“That’s perfectly fine, you go right ahead,” Mercedes said.

Mason did just that, slipping two bills, folded longways into the thong running down the crack of her ass. The bills disappeared into the depth of the dancer’s gluteus maximus.

Mènage decided to make an about face and break down to her knees, moving in toward Mercedes’s face with her round breasts.

Mercedes’s glance was more full on and deliberate than before. She took in a deep breath and blew her exhale through her mouth. The beer she was pouring dripped onto her hand along the outside of the glass. She stopped pouring but never looked down. She placed the bottle on the table and scooted her butt down into her seat, still managing to lean her torso forward at the same time.

Mercedes inhaled and smelled Mènage’s skin drenched with Champagne by Yves Saint Laurent. The words, “You smell great,” escaped from her lips without an ounce of knowledge from Mercedes.

“Thanks, sweetie. Is this your woman?” asked Manage, breaking for a half second to direct her inquiry to Mason.

“That’s my wife,” said Mason with a full-out hard-on.

“She’s pretty. You two look like Michael and Juanita Jordan up in here.”

“Compliments will get you everything,” replied Mason.

Mènage backed away from Mercedes and gave Mason a bit of breast action himself. “Actually, you look like Mason Wilson, the golfer,” she whispered.

“Even more complimentary,” he said with a grin.

Mènage moved back into Mercedes’s very existence, flipping her curly, jet-black hair over Mercedes’s hair for privacy and whispered in her ear, “Mrs. Wilson. How do you like it?” asked Mènage.

“My husband is the one who likes it. But I must say, you are very talented.”

Mènage backed away to make direct eye contact. “Can I straddle your husband later on with a lap dance?”

“Now you’re trying to take all my man’s money, huh.” Mercedes took her glass and guzzled a few swallows in one.

“This one would be on me,” Mènage said.

“I think I can fulfill that fantasy for him, but thanks.”

Mènage backed away farther with both eyes fixed upon Mercedes. She then made her way to the next group of high-profile patrons. Five hot, excited, loud men in business suits who owned a baseball team.

Mason told his woman, “I think she likes you.”

“I admire women who can shed their inhibitions and let it all hang out like that,” Mercedes replied as “Doin It” by LL Cool J played in the background.

“You know you could dance up there right along with them, baby. Your body is just as good as hers,” Mason complimented.

“Mason, please. Compliments are accepted, but I keep it real. Three small facts like having babies, fast approaching my forties, and about fifty pounds rule out any runway dancing for me.”

“That’s just my opinion.”

Mènage’s second song was over. She picked up her leather bra and scooped up her dollar bills, picking up quite a few next to Mason and Mercedes. Mercedes reached in her own purse and handed Mènage a fifty-dollar bill.

“You deserve this. Job well done,” Mercedes said with a hush.

“Thanks, baby. Turned on for the night?”