Scandalicious (8 page)

S
napped back to a more rational state of consciousness, Lincoln scowled at his balled fist, regarding it as something foreign. Disgusted, he unclenched it. He heard Chevonne comforting the kids, reassuring them that everything was all right between Mommy and Daddy. She sounded convincing; lying came easily for Chevonne.

Lincoln grabbed a pillow and snatched the comforter off of the bed. The sofa downstairs was much more appealing than sleeping next to the enemy.

No, fuck that.
Chevonne would love the idea of him being banished to the sofa. If she didn’t want to lie next to him, then she could trot her cheating ass downstairs and sleep on the sofa.

Calm and resolute, Lincoln threw back the covers and got into bed.

Chevonne slept elsewhere. He didn’t know and didn’t care whether she was curled up in Tori’s little twin bed or was tossing and turning on the couch. Knowing where he stood with Chevonne was liberating. No more inner turmoil. No more wondering why his wife rebuffed him.

For the first time in many nights, Lincoln got a good night’s sleep.

“Good morning, Rachel.” Lincoln forced his mouth into a tight smile. Rachel was a busybody and it was hard to like her. He would
have passed her desk with only a slight head nod if he didn’t have to pick up his messages from her.

She handed him a small stack of papers. “Did you hear the news?” Rachel’s eyes glittered through the lens of her eyeglasses. The hot gleam in Rachel’s dark eyes and her accelerated breathing was almost sexual. The woman got perverted pleasure from bearing bad news.

Right and left, coworkers were getting axed. Seasoned architects were being replaced with inexperienced, new college grads. Given the option of being laid off or accepting a pay cut, Lincoln had taken the latter, losing a chunk of self-respect along with decreased income. Still, a lower salary didn’t guarantee job security.

Sifting through the pile of messages, Lincoln winced. Was he about to get axed? “What’s going on?” he asked, dreading the response.

Rachel edged forward. “This is between you and me.”

He nodded, eyebrows knitted together in seriousness.

“Mitchell got his walking papers an hour ago,” she whispered.

Lincoln groaned. Mitchell had been with the firm for many years and was a highly accomplished architect. But these days, experience was more a curse than an asset. Lately, the firm was only interested in the young and savvy. At thirty-four, Lincoln was starting to feel like a dinosaur.

“And get this…” Rachel motioned for Lincoln to come closer. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t give the gossipy receptionist the time of day. But these weren’t ordinary times, so he drew closer.

“Mitchell’s replacement is in the office with the boss. Fresh out of college. A bright-eyed girl from Mount Vernon, New York.”

Lincoln shook his head.

“Guess who’s in charge of training the newbie?”

Lincoln released a hard sigh. “Me?”

“You got it! Have fun!” Rachel chortled.

Lincoln took long strides to his office. Training college grads was a pain in the ass. Being at work was becoming as fucked up as being at home.

Frank, the owner of the firm, tapped on Lincoln’s door and introduced him to Amber, the young college grad from upstate New York. Amber looked about sixteen. Lincoln smiled and welcomed her to the firm, all the while wondering where he’d find the patience to put up with another wet-behind-the-ears kid.

Hired as an apprentice drafter, Lincoln explained Amber’s job description. He gave her a tour of the three-story, loft-style facility. He introduced her to her new coworkers. And after a couple of hours of bullshitting, he was ready to ditch the young woman and get some work done. He walked her to her work area. After instructing her to familiarize herself with the employee handbook, he excused himself.

Alone with his thoughts, he sat behind his desk. The bronze-framed family photo that sat on his desk seemed to mock him. He wondered if his wife had taken another personal day. Was she holed up in a hotel with her lover right now? Or was she boldly getting her fuck on in her well-appointed city office? The thought filled him with hatred. Divorce was imminent. Custody, child support, division of property—it was going to get real ugly before it was over.

Lincoln suddenly noticed Amber standing in the doorway of his office as he pondered his fucked-up life. “Yes?” He tried to keep the irritation from his voice.

“I want to make sure I understand my responsibilities. I’m…like…not gonna use my skills to design anything?”

Lincoln couldn’t help from chuckling at her naiveté. “No, not for quite a while.”

“That sucks.”

“Hey, I’m an accomplished architect, but I spend more time on the phone, in meetings, and consulting with clients than actually designing or drafting plans,” he explained, giving Amber the best encouraging smile that he could manage. He was groaning inside. Placating and babysitting was not in his job description. This shit was demeaning. He didn’t appreciate having to take this kid under his wing.

“So what exactly will I be doing?”

“Getting familiar with the firm. Researching zoning and building codes.”

“That sucks.”

“Life sucks,” he said firmly. He glanced at his watch. “It’s lunch-time; why don’t you go grab yourself a bite to eat, and meet me back here in an hour and a half.”

The boss popped his head in. “I see you two are getting along. Good. Very good.”

“Yes,” Lincoln replied. “Amber’s about to take a lunch break.”

“Good idea,” the boss said, and then looked at Amber. “Have you ever been on South Street?”

“No.” Amber perked up a bit.

“Give her a tour, Lincoln. Show her the hotspots…places where the young people hang out.”

It was an executive order. “Sure thing, Frank.” Lincoln tried to look happy about being Amber’s tour guide.

Lincoln would have preferred having lunch at Ms. Tootsie’s but his young charge wanted to eat at Johnny Rockets.
Jesus!
Sitting in a hamburger joint was juvenile. Listening to a freckle-faced
white girl chatter on and on about nothing was a colossal waste of time. When Amber finished her burger, Lincoln waved the waiter over, more than ready to get the hell out of the noisy place.

Trying to discourage Amber from dawdling and window shopping, Lincoln walked briskly along South Street. Amber stopped suddenly. She literally clapped her hands and squealed like a little kid when she noticed a baking establishment called Scandalicious. “Oh, my God! A cupcake place. I have to go in there.”

Before Lincoln could reject the idea, Amber was already inside.

There was quite a long line at the counter. The snazzy-dressed guy that was working the cash register seemed a little overwhelmed. Lincoln took a seat on an out-of-the-way, velvet couch, collecting his thoughts while Amber stood in line. The cupcake bakery had a moody vibe that was seductive and appealing. Sort of reminded Lincoln of a French bordello—not that he’d ever visited one. Nevertheless, the sexy ambience and the enticing scents improved his disposition.

An attractive woman emerged from the kitchen, joining the young man at the counter. The line of customers began moving along more swiftly now that there were two people taking orders. While waiting for Amber, Lincoln slipped into deep thought.

“Are you okay? Can I get you something?”

Lost in thought, Lincoln hadn’t heard anyone approach. He was surprised to find himself staring at the face of the nice-looking woman who’d been taking orders behind the counter. She was even prettier up close.

“No, I’m okay. Waiting for my young coworker to get her sugar fix.” He nodded over at Amber who had made it to the front of the line.

“Okay, just checking on you. Making sure you weren’t passed
out or anything. I’ve only been open six months. The last thing I need is for a customer to keel over after eating one my cupcakes.” Chuckling, she walked away, resuming her position behind the counter.

Lincoln was impressed that a young black woman owned the bakery. Rent wasn’t cheap on South Street. Judging by the amount of customers, the sister was doing pretty good for herself. If he’d followed his heart, he would have his own architectural firm, instead of slaving for the man. But being married with kids required a regular paycheck.

A
never-ending stream of customers had filled the shop until closing. Money-wise, that was a good thing. But Solay’s stress level was on overload. Her baking assistant had been distracted—not on top of her game at all. Last week, Melanee had been a passionate baker, creating new recipes that introduced bold new flavors, but she’d been pretty much useless today. Burning cupcakes, forgetting ingredients, and smiling blissfully off into space, like she was in the midst of an erotic fantasy. Melanee was a complete puzzle to Solay. She never talked about her personal life, she shied away from talk about sex, and Solay wondered if the dowdy, little wisp of a girl was still a virgin.

Dismissing Melanee from her thoughts, Solay focused on her own needs, and what she needed was some stress release. She called that “rent-a-dick” center. Though she preferred to see Deon again, she decided to try something new. A rep for the agency recommended an escort who went by the name, Spanish Fly.

Solay excitedly rushed to the door when the bell rang. Through the peephole, she examined her escort. Spanish Fly had chiseled features, olive complexion, dark wavy hair, and a powerfully built body. The handsome Latino looked like a promise of many hours of sweaty body slapping.

“Hey, Spanish Fly,” she welcomed when she opened the door. Solay was looking forward to getting naked with this sexy Adonis.

“Good evening, madam. Please call me, Fly,” he said with a sexy Spanish accent. Then he reached for her hand and delivered a
soft kiss that sent delicious shivers up her spine. Sexy and suave, Fly seemed to be a good choice.

“Have a seat.” Solay motioned toward the sofa, intending to chat for a few minutes before jumping in bed and requesting that her Latino lover talk dirty in Spanish.

“No, thank you. I want to get you in the mood,” he said, as his tongue circled his lips.

“Okay, get me in the mood.” She smiled, eager for some raunchy freakishness.

“I brought some music,” he added with a wink as he pulled an iPod from the inside pocket of his jacket.

Hmm. Fly is kind of extra.
Solay didn’t need romantic music. All she wanted was a thick, juicy dick. Being polite, she accepted the iPod.

“I always do a performance. You know…to get your juices flowing.” He removed his jacket, draping it over a chair.

Strange foreplay.
“What kind of performance?” Feeling a bit uncertain about Fly, she set the iPod on a docking station.

Shakira’s voice emerged from the speakers, singing “Hips Don’t Lie.”

Fly whipped off his shirt off and went into action. He flung his arms about as he swung his hips, shook his ass, belly danced, and even worked in some ballet twirls, all the while, licking his lips. One minute, he was working it like a stripper and the next moment, he was leaping and twirling. The routine was an embarrassment and hard to watch. Fly was over the top, and his dance style was way too sissified to get her juices flowing. No longer able to tolerate this shameful display of his true sexual orientation, Solay clicked off Shakira.