Material Girl 2: Labels and Love (22 page)

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Authors: Keisha Ervin

BOOK: Material Girl 2: Labels and Love
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Tweet, “Call Me”
21
“And action!” the director of Edible Couture said, pointing his finger at Dylan.
“Hey, material girls and boys!” Dylan smiled warmly into the camera. “I’m Dylan, and you’re watching Edible Couture—”
“Cut!” the director yelled, satisfied with the take. “That’s great. We got it!”
Pleased as well, Dylan smiled and prepared for the next take. While the stage crew set everything up, she stood still going over her lines while the on set makeup artist touched up her lipstick. Little did Dylan know but Cruz and the crew had a huge surprise in store for her.
“All right, Dylan.” The director sat back down in his chair. “We’re ready for you to tell the viewers what you’re preparing today.”
“Okay,” she nodded.
“Quiet on the set!” he shouted. “And action!”
“Today, we’re going to prepare shortbread cookies in the shape of a Louboutin platform heel. We’re even going to create the brand’s signature red—”
“Baby?” Cruz interrupted her.
“Huh? What?” She glanced to her left, surprised. “What are you doing here? I’m taping.” She looked at the crew, mortified.
“I came here to tell you how much I love you.” He took her by the hand as the cameras continued to roll.
The few weeks they’d spent apart had been torturous on him. Cruz was willing to do any and everything to get her back. He’d realized that having a successful career was one thing, but having no one to share it with was something he wasn’t willing to do.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And after doing some soul searching, I realized that I’m good by myself, but I’m greater when I’m with you, so Dylan Dahl Monroe,” he took her by the hand and got down on one knee, “will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Umm . . .” she said speechless, “I don’t know what to say,” she said with a hint of panic in her voice.
“Say you’ll be my wife,” Cruz responded simply.
Overwhelmed with emotion, Dylan gulped. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to be Mrs. Javier Cruz, but the look of sincerity in his eyes spoke volumes. Cruz really did love her, and he’d be a great husband and stepfather to Mason. She honestly didn’t have a reason to say no, and she didn’t want to embarrass him in front of everyone by saying no, so she opened her mouth and said, “Yes.”
 
 
Darkness swept over the horizon as Angel pulled his car onto the lot of Dylan’s show. Raindrops pelted his windshield. He could barely see through, it was raining so hard. But rain wasn’t going to stop him. He’d tried playing the background and being respectful of Dylan’s relationship with Cruz, but now, shit was getting out of hand. There was no way she could be serious about marrying him when all Angel did was think of her.
She had to still think about him too. All he could see was her for him. She’d become his addiction in more ways than one. Angel was going mad without her. Every meal he ate brought back memories of her. Since he couldn’t physically be around her, he watched old home movies, trying his best to recapture the time they spent together.
At night, he lay staring at the wall, envisioning her soothing eyes. Without her, his whole life had been off track. He needed his baby back ASAP. No other man on God’s green earth could love her more than he, and he was determined to prove it.
Angel hopped out of his car and chirped the alarm. Within seconds, he was drenched from the rain, but that was the least of his concerns. Donning a black skull cap, white V-neck tee, black trench coat, True Religion jeans, and black leather combat boots, Angel walked briskly around the lot trying to find her trailer. People buzzed by him hard at work.
“Ay!” He stopped a random guy. “You know where Dylan Monroe’s trailer is?”
“Yeah, it’s straight ahead. It’s the last one on the left.”
“Good lookin’ out.” Angel patted him on the back and kept it moving.
Finding her trailer, he stopped at the door. On the way there, he’d planned his speech out to a T; now, he was at a loss for words. What if she turned him away? It would kill him. Never the one to back down from a fight, Angel pulled open the door and walked in. Dylan’s back faced him. She was dressed in only a white cotton robe.
“Is it time already?” she asked, turning around, thinking it was her assistant.
Shocked to find Angel instead, Dylan looked at him, confused. He was soaking wet. The T-shirt he wore clung to his chest, exposing the outline of his pecs.
“Is it true?” he asked, breathing heavily.
“Is what true?” she said softly.
Angel invaded her personal space and lifted her left hand.
“I guess so.” He dropped her hand, going numb.
All of the air in Angel’s lungs escaped. It was like he was being suffocated. Dylan stood up.
“What do you want me to say? You fucked me, then went to Scotland for three months. You knew how I felt about you, but you didn’t care.” Tears immediately formed in her eyes.
“That’s not true,” he tried to explain.
“Save it!” Dylan put up her hand, crying. “You can’t keep doing this to me! When you want me, you want me, and when you don’t, you don’t! That’s not fair to me, Angel! And this constant tug-of-war on my heart is too much!”
“I know it is, baby, and I’m sorry.” He held her face in the palm of his hands.
“No, you’re not!” She pushed him away. “Ever since we broke up, I’ve been tryin’ to make you see that I’m different! That I’ve changed, but you just couldn’t put the past in the past! You just kept on punishing me, and my dumb ass just kept coming back for more!”
Angel pulled her back into his embrace. Water dripped from his hat and chin onto her robe as they stood face-to-face.
“I love you, and I don’t give a fuck what you say. You’re my girl, and I’m your man. I need you, Dylan.” He dropped down to his knees and wrapped his strong arms around her slim waist.
Angel’s face rested on her stomach. Within seconds, Dylan’s entire being was reduced to a mere puddle. Her mind was screaming at her to put up a better fight, but the temptation of feeling him enter her wet slit had taken over. Angel silently slid his damp hands up her robe and caressed her thighs.
Tears filled every crevice of her face. She could feel them in her nose, cheeks, and even her mouth. With each touch, Dylan’s breath escaped her. Their bodies were so close that no air could pass between them. Caught up in the moment, Angel lightly kissed Dylan’s thighs while she looked on with a look of sorrow in her eyes. She hated that the warm, succulent feel of his lips sent sparks through the most sensitive parts of her.
Angel untied Dylan’s robe and admired her belly button. He could stare at her forever. She was perfect. Not willing to waste any time, Angel pulled her down to him and lay her body down. The coldness from the floor sent chills up Dylan’s spine. Angel couldn’t unzip his jeans fast enough. He was dying to feel the creaminess of her pussy on his dick. Fervently, he kissed her mouth while inserting himself deep within.
“Ahhhhhhh,” Dylan moaned.
With each thrust she tightened her pelvic floor. The sensation was enthralling. Then their lips fused together again. Pinning her legs back, Angel slowly grinded his dick in and out of her. Dylan could feel each mindblowing stroke all the way down to her tippy-toes. Wanting more of him, she held his ass in the palm of her hands and pushed him in further.
“Mmmmm,” Angel groaned. He was drowning in her wetness.
“I’m about to cum, baby,” he moaned.
“Me too,” Dylan shrilled, holding on tightly.
Spent from their sexual romp, Angel and Dylan lay panting heavily. Dylan gazed off absently. She felt like shit. Thoughts of Cruz flooded her mind. He loved her so much, and if he ever found out about what just happened, they’d be over for good.
“What’s wrong wit’ you?” Cruz asked, taking a sip of his wine. He and Dylan were having a nice romantic dinner at Mosaic, a modern fusion restaurant. “You haven’t even touched your food.”
“I’m not that hungry.” Dylan picked at her pot stickers.
“You sick or something?” He took one off her plate and ate it.
“I guess you could say that.” She set her fork down and rested her hands on her lap. The guilt Dylan felt was tearing her up inside to the point she felt queasy. Thankfully, she had the noise of the restaurant to drown out her thoughts.
“Order a 7 Up. That’ll make you feel better.”
“I’m not thirsty either,” she frowned.
“So I was thinkin’,” Cruz took another sip from his glass, “instead of us having a long, drawn-out engagement, why don’t we get married in a month?”
“A month?” Dylan blurted out loudly, causing other patrons to stare. “Are you insane?” She softened her tone. “I’m not gettin’ married in a month.”
“Why not?” He shrugged his shoulders. “My homeboy Lamar Odem and Khloe Kardashian did.”
“Unless you plan on marrying me for publicity, then I don’t think that’s a good example.”
“Well, I don’t wanna wait. Besides, when I start playin’ for the LA Galaxy, I wanna be able to introduce you as my wife.” He stared at her and smiled joyfully.
“You got a deal?” Dylan perked up.
“Yep. I signed with the Galaxy today.”
“Congratulations! I knew you could do it.” She reached her hand across the table and placed it on top of his.
“Thanks, but dig on this.” He held her hand. “I gotta start by March.”
“Wow.” Dylan sat back, stunned.
It felt like she was being hit with a ton of bricks all at once. She hadn’t even come to terms yet that she was engaged. How in the hell could she go from
that
to planning a wedding in a month? Plus, she still had to mentally deal with her and Angel’s unexpected rendezvous and the repercussions it could have on her and Cruz’s relationship.
“Don’t you think we might be moving too fast?” she finally said, trying her best to vie for more time.
“No. I say, why wait? We gon’ get married anyway, so why put it off?”
“I just don’t know.” She shook her head and bit her bottom lip. “I have so much on my plate as it is. I have my baby and my bakery and my show, and I still have to promote my book. And on top of all of that, plan a wedding. I mean, come on.”
“That’s what’s wedding planners are for,” Cruz reasoned.
“You just got an answer for everything, don’t you?” Dylan said sarcastically.
“Hell, yeah,” he laughed. “You know me. When I want something I get it, and I wanna marry you and have you as my wife by the end of this month. So what do you say?”
Dylan held her breath. Her life had somehow become a merry-go-round, and no matter how badly she wanted to get off, she couldn’t. She was backed into a corner, and the old Dylan that she’d buried was starting to emerge. She didn’t like it, but life was like a game of survival of the fittest. If she kept on giving reasons about why they shouldn’t get married, Cruz would know something was up and start asking questions. There was no way she could have any of that, so Dylan did what Dylan knew best—and caved in.
“Okay.” She threw up her hands. “You win, but I have to have Mindy Weiss as my wedding planner if we’re going to do this.”
“You can have whoever you like.” Cruz smiled, pleased.
Dylan, on the other hand, was even more nervous. Her throat felt like it was constricting with each breath.
Everything’s going to be fine, Dylan
, she thought.
You have nothing to worry about. Cruz loves you, and you love him. What happened between you and Angel the other night was just a mistake. It didn’t mean anything. And besides, it’ll never happen again.
 
 
Since the age of ten, Dylan had dreamed of the day she’d be able to try on a Vera Wang wedding dress. The moment was as magical as she’d seen it in her head. The staff catered to her every need. On arrival, she, along with Billie and Tee-Tee, were served champagne and caviar. Dylan, Billie, and Tee-Tee all held hands upon entering the showroom. Once they stepped foot inside, they all simultaneously gasped.

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