Authors: Eric Pete
Reality Check (7 page)
14
Max
Friday night had me dancing around my living room in my drawers to Al Green’s “Love and Happiness” with a hot iron in my hand. As I spun around the rickety ironing board, I placed a perfect crease on the sleeve of my shirt. Having some ends in your pocket and someplace to go will do that to you.
After picking up our paychecks, Smitty had tightened me up with a fresh haircut. I’d showered, and my Kenneth Cole cologne was just right. I wanted the ladies to smell it, not choke on it. Jay, who was going to be our driver, was selecting our destination. His volunteering was a rarity. We usually went in separate cars, giving Jay the freedom to break out and get his “whap-whap” whenever he wanted. Knowing Jay, he probably wanted to use my apartment or something.
Speaking of Jay, he arrived bearing gifts. Heinekens in hand. Maybe I misjudged him this time.
We all agreed to go kinda casual for the night, so no suits. I ignored the “kinda” and tried to do some Kanye shit—a black sweater vest atop a white dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, my most expensive denims, and some black Chuck Taylors. Oh, and a loose black necktie
“What the fuck?” Jay asked at my failed experiment. We’d said no suits, and he still wore one. Fuck him and his hatin’ ass.
“Just give me a beer,” I said as I locked up and led him upstairs to Smitty’s. Whatever me and Jay had on, Smitty, true to himself, rocked a bright-as-hell silk shirt with black slacks and shoes. Fool looked like he was ready for
Dancing with the Stars
rather than the club. So much for stealth. I guess it was best that the
womens
knew we were coming from a block away. It gave them time to prepare—and run for cover.
Dancing with the Stars
rather than the club. So much for stealth. I guess it was best that the
womens
knew we were coming from a block away. It gave them time to prepare—and run for cover.
“Awww, my eyes!” I screamed before Jay could beat me to it.
Smitty slammed the door on us—until he found out we had beer.
We killed the Heinekens while telling the traditional tales of the women we’d had and of the ones we hoped to get. Smitty’s stereo had the walls shaking with Keri Hilson and that new album from Tha Dogg Pound, but I wanted to hear some Lil’ Wayne and some classic UGK. I stumbled downstairs and grabbed a couple of their CDs for Smitty to jam. Jay couldn’t help but come with the “country” cracks, but it didn’t faze me. I had my buzz on and I was in L.A. Haters be damned.
Jay let us in on the destination once we were rolling. We were on our way to hang with the beautiful people at El Ami in Hollywood. Normally, we had a slim chance of getting in the joint on a Friday night, but Jay went to high school with the brother at the door. That made our chances a lot better. Well, that and forty bucks that we’d thrown together. Jay never said they were good friends in high school.
The beautiful people were in effect, and the food was damn good too. I didn’t need anything weighing me down, so I had a bowl of gumbo in the dining room. Not as good as home, but not that watery stuff that some places called gumbo either. Smitty was tearing up some fried chicken like he hadn’t eaten in days. Jay had moved on to the lounge, where the ladies were.
“Ay, Max, that’s all you’re eatin’ tonight?” Smitty asked as he sucked on a chicken bone.
“Yeah, dawg. Just enough to soak up some of that beer. Gotta stay light on my feet. Don’t want to be belching around my future wife, y’know?” I joked, knowing she wasn’t to be found as long as I continued my hit-it-and-quit-it ways; one day, perhaps, I’d be over what had happened back in Louisiana and ready for something real.
“I guess you got a point there. You ready to mingle?”
We split up to cover more area. Smitty headed toward the bar, probably for another drink, while I ventured into the crowded lounge. I spotted Jay immediately. He was seated on a barstool, with an audience of not one, but two women. One sister, with a cappuccino complexion and pretty little braids running down her back, wore a tight, backless light blue dress. The other one had one of those cute permy-fros to go with her golden-delicious self and red dress. I was about to slip by when Jay motioned me over.
“Hey, cuz,” Jay said, brimming with confidence, as he should, for what he’d landed. “I want you to meet my two friends here. Diane and Brandi, this is my cousin, Maxwell. Maxwell, these are my friends, Diane and Brandi.”
I could tell Jay was running game when he called me by my full name. Diane, in the blue dress, shook my hand and then slowly let it go. The lingering touch and eye contact as our hands parted spoke to me. Her nipples popping up through the fabric of her dress spoke louder. Brandi gave me a little wave while communicating with her friend via smiles and the unspoken cues known only to women. I’d been given the approval and wasn’t going anywhere.
The brief conversation went well, until Jay told me to take a walk with him to the bar.
“Cuz, they are ready!” he said, barely away from their ears.
“Bet,” I said, noting the obvious.
“I need to fill you in, though. They think we’re in the NFL.”
“Say what?”
He put his arm around me, pulling me into his web. “I told them we both play football and return to L.A. when our season ends.”
“Why do you have to make up shit? Man, look at us. We ain’t built like pros.” I was up for the action, just minus all the extra fake bullshit Jay seemed to excel at. If someone didn’t like me for me, then fuck them.
“What?” he said, feigning innocence. “They don’t know shit about football. We could be kickers for all they know. All they see is the promise of being part of our world. Well, for one night at least.”
“You don’t think people fall for that shit, do ya?”
“All the time, cuz. All the time. This is L.A., nigga. Everybody lies. It’s all about whether your story is better than the next nigga’s. Your country ass will never survive out here if you don’t learn that. And quick.” Jay’s smooth demeanor soured temporarily as he channeled his inner ass-hole.
I paused to glance back at Diane and Brandi, who were still smiling and waiting patiently for us. As I continued my trip to the bar, I envisioned Diane riding me all night, inhaling her sticky sweetness, probing her wetness. Wondered how it would feel to be in the throes of passion with her and to hear her screaming my name. But would it be me making her scream, or simply a falsity spun by Jay?
As Jay ordered a final round of drinks, I tapped him on the shoulder.
“Where are we supposed to go with them? One look at my apartment and this is over.”
“Relax. I’ve got Pops’ credit card, so it’s time to get that room. After these drinks, we’re outta here. I might even let Brandi drive the ride. Yeah,” he said, admiring his plan. “Then I’ll ride her.”
“Hey, what about Smitty?” I asked, my lust diminishing long enough for me to remember my friend.
“Fuck him. Besides, there’s not enough room in the ride for all of us. His runt ass can catch a cab with his radioactive shirt.”
“That’s foul, cuz.” This was one of those times I really didn’t like my cousin, despite him being family.
I looked around our vicinity, but didn’t see Smit. This was wrong.
We returned to Diane and Brandi with their drinks, continuing where we left off. I talked, but didn’t contribute to Jay’s lie. Sensing I was holding back now, Diane took a sip of her drink and pulled me into her. She kissed me hard, opening her mouth to share her tongue, as well as the sweet coconut rum. I kissed her back, my tongue meeting hers as our bodies came together. She was more intoxicating than the liquor I’d had tonight.
Next thing I knew, the four of us were heading out of El Ami and straight for Jay’s Beamer, which was parked across the street. Jay had his arm around a giggling Brandi, while Diane was skipping toward the car with me willingly in tow. Jay hit his remote, disarming the alarm and unlocking the doors. He appeared to be serious about letting Brandi drive. I looked at Diane’s ass as she bent over to enter.
But I couldn’t dog my boy like that—or put up with any more of Jay’s lies tonight.
I could’ve just called Smitty if he’d paid his cell phone bill, but ...
“Hey, I just remembered. I gotta run back inside.”
Jay locked on me with his eyes, implying, “Don’t do it.”
“My agent’s in there and we gotta ... talk about my new deal,” I said weakly, tossing Jay a slight bone. Weak. Real weak. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
The ladies erupted in a series of groans and gasps. I could read Jay’s lips as he silently mouthed, “Punk ass.” Diane got out of the car and tried to convince me to leave with them. I let Jay stick to his story and apologized to Diane before the three of them drove off down La Cienega. Diane did give me one last long, wet kiss and placed my hands on her ass in an attempt to sway me.
It almost worked. I don’t know where my strength came from.
I did get her number, though.
Now, I not only had to locate Smitty and explain why we had to cab it home, but I had to figure out how to get back inside El Ami. Looking at the line now gathered outside, I knew it would take more than I had to get back inside.
I was left with the smell of Diane’s perfume on my shirt to give me some solace.
Yeah.
Some solace.
15
Glover
Florida. The sunshine and palm trees—minus the smog.
I lowered the window to feel the breeze. “Beautiful,” I whispered as we crossed Biscayne Bay en route to the Palms Hotel & Spa.
The limousine was waiting for us upon touchdown at Miami International. No surprise, as Lionel was the master of organization. Our flight in from LAX had been quiet and uneventful, allowing us to get a nap in.
With my digital camera, I snapped some pictures of the tranquil waters. The driver slowed just enough to indulge my tourist moment. Lionel sat across from me, his mind solving whatever puzzle was before him at the moment.
This trip was going to be different from the others. I could tell.
We arrived at our exquisite hotel, checking in and having our bags delivered to our ocean-view suite. I’d felt like a little girl all the way up to our room, but once the attendant received his tip and left us alone, that was over.
It was time for Lionel to make me feel like a woman.
“One question. Am I going to have to wait any longer?” I asked, my hand still resting on the door I’d just closed.
Lionel responded immediately by pinning me against the door. I couldn’t escape. Gripped the door handle anxiously. Stroked the polished chrome as if it could respond.
“No,” he answered. “No more waiting.”
“Oh,” I gasped as Lionel’s body pressed into my ass. I felt him swelling as I steadied my legs. My grip on the door handle tightened, while his tongue slid up and down my neck and across the edges of my ear.
His tongue flicked into the center, weakening me further. “Glover, are you gonna give it to me?” he whispered.
“Yessss,” I panted.
“How do you want it, baby?” he asked, knowing how crazy-hot he was making it for me. My pussy throbbed, my legs quivered, causing me to buck uncontrollably against him. He leaned into me harder, flattening me against the door. With it not giving, I had nowhere to go but to grind harder into him. His breathing became ragged.
Lionel removed his shirt and began fondling my breasts before reaching under my T-shirt to undo my bra. I released my grip on the door handle and reached back to undo his pants and grip something more useful. As the pants peeled off and dropped to the floor, I took his dick in my hand. From its swollen head to the base of its shaft, I stroked its contours.
Strong.
Curved.
Needed.
Ready.
I turned around and pushed Lionel onto the king-sized bed. The rest of him fell back, but his dick remained at attention, not wanting to be parted from its owner.
For I owned that shit.
I threw my shirt off and fell on top of Lionel’s sleek, hard body. His left hand found its way inside my shorts, where his fingers took root inside me. In and out they slid, while he took one of my breasts in his other hand, succulently teasing my nipple. I kissed atop his head as he sucked harder and harder, making me gush and swell in all the right places. I was whipped into an uncontrolled frenzy and quickly pulled off my shorts and thong.
“I’ve never wanted you more than I do now,” he uttered as he rolled me onto my back.
“Take it. Take me.”
And he did. Entered me as I willingly accepted all he had to give.
Needless to say, we wound up staying in the room the rest of the day and into the evening. Other than ordering room service, the lovin’ continued into the night with few words spoken.
Upon being awakened by housekeeping Saturday, we were reminded to hang the
DO NOT DISTURB
sign. We had some breakfast on the beach with the Atlantic Ocean rolling in behind us, then set out to explore South Beach.
DO NOT DISTURB
sign. We had some breakfast on the beach with the Atlantic Ocean rolling in behind us, then set out to explore South Beach.
Lionel’s thoughts still seemed to drift somewhere between here and some secret place he refused to divulge. Beyond sheer satisfaction, my thoughts went to how this trip would change things for us.
After a cab ride over to Washington Avenue in South Beach that evening, Lionel decided to show his stroke by getting us into the VIP section of a club called Mirrors. Don’t get me wrong. It was impressive and I had fun, but I would have preferred something more intimate, with maybe some salsa dancing. Perhaps I hadn’t fully recovered from Drama, and was expecting a beer to be dumped on someone.
We spent Sunday evening having a quiet dinner to put a perfect little red ribbon on our trip. Lionel must have coughed up some serious money to have the restaurant to ourselves. Sometimes he tried too hard to impress me, but I’d given in to his ways for once. I was having a nervous feeling about this, though, fear of my mother’s experience casting an unnecessary color on what was supposed to be the best chapter in my life.
We had fried calamari for an appetizer. Lionel had the stuffed, marinated pork chop, while I dined on a petite filet. Nothing like a hunk of beef to get my strength back up after all the weekend’s activities.
“Had a good time, baby?” he asked before taking a sip of his iced tea.
“A great time, honey, although you didn’t have to do all this. I’m in heaven here. Pure heaven.”
“Good. I’m glad you’re in heaven, and you know what? I don’t want you to come down ... ever.”
I noticed our waiter standing in the distance, watching our table curiously. I was focused on him, so I failed to notice the small box Lionel had placed before me on the table. When I looked back, all I heard was “Glover, will you marry me?”
My world froze.
I knew this was coming, but I had tried to put it out of my head.
“Glover, did you hear me?”
The too-good-to-be-trues, I secretly named them. Where desires meet disaster. But this wasn’t my mother’s life. And Lionel wasn’t my father.
“I’m–I’m sorry. Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”
I welled up and let the tears come forth. As I bawled like a baby, my thoughts were of my dear mother. The waiter came forward from his vantage point and brought out champagne as the rest of the staff stood around us and applauded.
We were returning to Los Angeles tomorrow, officially engaged and ready to take the next step.
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