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Authors: Niobia Bryant

BOOK: Show and Tell
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Chapter Thirty-Three
Cristal
I
never thought Mohammed would cheat. Maybe it is because I think highly of myself and I just assumed he did too or maybe it was because I truly never cheated on him and I just felt like he should trust me not to do the same thing to him that I did to Sahad . . . with him.
The girls told me what they saw. I confronted him and he didn't deny it. He said they were just friends. She was in town visiting and they were just chilling. And then he challenges me to believe him just like I always challenge him to believe me when I dip to hang out in NYC with Carolyn.
Funny thing is we had some of the best sex ever that night. I think we both were trying to prove something to each other.
Me: My pussy is so much better than hers.
Him: You should be here to take care of this good-ass dick.
But a part of me is hurting to think of Mohammed and his ex still dealing. A part of me is hurting real bad.
I wish my girls were here with me or I was with them. They would understand. They would know what to say. Carolyn will just wave her hand like she is shooing a fly and say good riddance.
I look around at the celebrities, the wannabes, and the gonnabes of New York's Butter restaurant. I miss Mohammed and his realness.
I lean in close to Carolyn as we sit on the banquette. “Carolyn, I think I'm going to head on home,” I tell her as I pick up my clutch from the table.
“But our food hasn't even arrived yet,” she tells me, looking quite pretty in all white with bold gold jewelry.
“I'm not feeling well,” I lie.
“Well, you've had quite a bit to drink.” She pats my hand. “Take my car. I'll just give Marc your regrets.”
Fuck Marc. Fuck this star studded place. I just want to be in Mohammed's arms. “Thanks, Carolyn,” I tell her, air kissing her cheeks before I rise to my feet.
“I'll call you.”
Carolyn has become that surrogate mother I always dreamed of. Although she agreed with Alizé that another day spa is the last thing New York needs, she still will back my business . . . once I decide on one.
“Look-a-here, look-a-here.”
I just stepped outside the restaurant when Sahad steps right in my path. Nothing about him had changed. Not his raw sex appeal or the rich quality of his clothes on his tall frame or that handsome, angular face. He raises his hand and the lights from the restaurant make his ring truly “bling” as he removes his shades. There is nothing but hate in his eyes as he looks at me.
“Who knew your little Rasta handyman could afford to treat you to such a fine establishment,” he says snidely in a voice that is way too loud.
I am immediately filled with anger. “Just go inside and enjoy your evening, Sahad.” I try to push past him to get to the valet stand but he steps to the left in my path.
“You know I feel sorry for Mr. Lover Lover because he can't afford a money-hungry bitch like you and soon someone with deeper pockets is gonna bum rush his coconut-loving ass right out of your life.”
“The way he bum rushed your ghetto fabulous ass right out of mine,” I shoot back as the lights of the paparazzi's cameras flash like crazy.
“Dayum,” he says in an exaggerated fashion as he looks down at me with eyes colder than every bit of diamond Chris Aire jewelry that he is wearing. “Truth hurts, huh?”
Yes, it does. I think of Marc and all the gifts I have accepted from a man I do not know. Still, none of this is any of his business.
I step close to him and look up into his face without enough anger of my own in my eyes. “Leave me the fuck alone and get the fuck on with your life and stop letting the fact that a man with smaller pockets and a bigger dick took me from you.”
He grabs my wrist and I do not break a sweat.
“A nice little civil suit is just what a golddigger like me wants . . . especially with all these witnesses.”
He lets me go with a quickness. “Man, fuck you.”
I push past him. “No, fuck
you
,” I tell him over my shoulder before I walk away.
I do not relax until I am in the back of Carolyn's limo headed out the city to New Jersey and back on the Garden State Parkway.
As soon as I walk into the house I strip and make my way to the bedroom to climb into the bed beside Mohammed and wrap my arms and legs around his strong, muscular frame. And tonight as he stirs in his sleep there are no questions. No who, what, when, where, or how. He just presses a loving kiss to my forehead and wraps his arms around me to pull me even closer to his warmth before we fall asleep.
The steady buzzing of something vibrating awakens me the next morning. My cell phone. I lift my head from the bed as I lay on my belly. I am disappointed to find the bed empty. I had plans to wake before him and give him just the lip service needed to awaken him.
With a small stretch, I roll over in bed, tangling my legs in the covers, as I reach down into my purse on the nightstand. I frown at the sight of Alizé's mother's house phone. Oh God, did something happen to Ze?
I jerk the phone open. “Ms. Winters?”
“Girl, this me. This ain't my mama,” Alizé snaps playfully.
“What are you doing there?” I ask as I sit up in bed exposing my breasts as the sheet falls to my waist.
“If you'd call a bitch or return a bitch's phone call your scandalous ass would know I moved back home.”
“Girl it is too early for that much
at-ti-tude
,” I tell her as I wipe sleep from my eyes.
“Well, is it too early for some celebrity gossip?”
“Can you call me back—”
“About you and Sahad,” she slides in with way too much ease.
“What? What do you mean? What are you saying? What are you talking about?” I ask her, all the words coming out of me in a rush as my eyes dart around the room.
“You know I have to get me some
E!
in the morning while I'm getting ready for work. Well, news of your reconciliation with Sahad and the lovers' spat you guys had last night is all over the news. Hot 97. WBLS.
The Steve Harvey Morning Show
. Girl, DeeDee got y'all business all up on the
Doug Banks Show
. Bitch, ya'll
everywhere
.” “Oh . . . my . . . God!” I gasp as I feel like I am going to hyperventilate.
“Why you ain't tell me you was back fucking that Negro?”
“Because it is not true. Oh, I cannot let Mohammed get a whiff of this shit. He will never believe . . .”
My words fade as my man walks into the bedroom carrying a bag of groceries. His face, his handsome face, is so cold as he looks at me. “I went out for some things to make us breakfast and instead I get that plus some
bullshit
about my damn woman and her ex . . . or current . . . or whatever the fuck Sahad is now.”
Oh God, Mohammed LOVES listening to Steve Harvey in the morning.
I kick the covers from my legs and damn near trip my naked behind over myself as I get over to him as fast as I can. “That is
not
true. That is not what happened, Mohammed!”
I touch his chest and he brushes my hands away so hard that I stumble to the left. I watch as he flings the entire bag of groceries. Eggs splatter to the floor. A jar of orange juice crashes against the wall. A pack of bacon flies like a damn Frisbee.
I scream out at his unusual show of violence. I have not seen him this mad since the night he fought Sahad. “Mohammed, don't do this. You better believe me. I would never cheat on you. I promise. I swear,” I plead with him as tears run down my face and my heart aches at how fucked-up fate can be.
He starts pacing, causing his dreads to swing across his back. “I can't do this shit, Danielle. Get out. Just get your shit and get the fuck out!”
I point at him. “No, Mohammed. No! No! No!”
He stops pacing to look at me and the pain in his eyes tears me up. “I don't want to feel like this no more. I don't want you no more.”
My eyes widen as he walks around the room jerking up everything that is mine. He turns and flings it all at me. “Just get the fuck out, Danielle,” he says in this voice that is way worse than screaming. It is the voice of a man who is truly fed up.
“I am not leaving this house,” I tell him in a determined voice. “I am not leaving you and this relationship. I will not do it, Mohammed—”
He walks out of the room. “Don't be here when I get back, Danielle,” he throws over his shoulder. Moments later I hear the front door open and then slam closed so hard that the house literally shakes.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Alizé
N
ow that my focus is back on work and not on Cameron, I have gotten my shit together and it's all about school and this internship for me. Over the last few weeks it's paid off. My supervisor just offered me the chance to return for the summer internship program. This will give me over a total of one year's experience here. With that type of relationship, I plan to work here once my MBA is in my hand in another year.
Oh, a bitch is back on the grind for my MBA (yup, it's
still
MORE BANKING OF ASSETS as far as I'm concerned).
My cell phone flashes and I pick it up from my desk. I roll my eyes at the sight of Dr. Locke's cell phone number. Maybe it's because my mom and I are working out our issues or because I'm resigned to the fact that Cameron and I will not be together or that my internship is in a great place, but I have been calling on my therapeutic dick less and less. In fact, the last time I gave him some of my goodies was last week and he has been blowing up my phone ever since.
That's why you can't put that pussy on some men like that. They ass can't take it when you shut off the supply. I laugh as I rise from the desk and start gathering my things.
I didn't even realize it's after seven already. I was so busy working on the paper describing my internship for my advisor. It's way past time to get my ass to the crib.
Before I leave my cubicle that is worse than the small office I had in Cameron's department, I know my ass is more determined than ever to leave this shit behind and get my fine ass in one of those toplevel executive suites.
With a little smile I clutch my briefcase tighter and turn on my Via Spaga heels to stroll to the elevator. Most of the staff in the finance department are already gone for the day. Unlike the other departments there isn't much burning the candle at both ends kind of nights. I wouldn't be surprised at all if Cameron is still working hard for the money upstairs in his office.
My heart double pumps at the thought of him. Yes, I ain't no better than my mommy because I am still so in love with a man who don't love me.
The elevator doors open and I step forward. I pause as my eyes travel from polished Gucci loafers up to the face of that very same man.
“Cameron,” I say softly.
“Hi, Monica.”
I can see in his eyes that he is just as surprised to run into me. I give him a fake ass smile and step onto the elevator. I turn and our arms are almost touching. It's hot. I step to the left away from him.
The doors close and the tension between us feels like it is closing in.
Lord, why does it have to be ten stories before we can get off this motherfucker?
I keep my eyes straight ahead and try to keep my face neutral even though my stomach is filled with all the emotions this man stirs inside of me. All the anger, the love, the lust, the pain, the regret . . . the hope.
I glance over at him just in time to see him quickly look away from me. I just bite back a smile—
A loud, grinding noise causes my heart to leap in my chest just before the elevator comes to a sudden stop. I fall my ass right off my heels and face forward into the steel doors.
“Whoa,” Cameron calls out.
I feel his hands—those hands—grab my waist to steady me. As soon as I get my bearings I shift away from his touch and press my back to the wall of the elevator. “What the hell is going on?” I ask as I look over at him.
“I think we're stuck,” he says dryly before he pushes several buttons and then opens a small door on the elevator panel.
“No shit, Sherlock.” I straight mean-mug his ass as he picks up the phone behind that door in the panel and puts it to his ear.
“It's dead. I hope there wasn't a power outage—”
“Or some crazy 9/11 type of shit,” I tell him as my heart beats like a motherfucker in fear.
He looks over at me with a troubled expression before he loosens his silk tie and undoes the top button. “I'm sure it's nothing that serious,” he says, sounding like he doesn't much believe that shit himself.
We both reach in our briefcases. I pull out my cell phone. He pulls out his BlackBerry.
We both smile a little at the coincidence before looking away.
“I forgot I don't have a signal in the elevators.” I snap
that
useless motherfucker closed and drop it back into my briefcase.
I'm not claustrophobic or nothing but being stuck in an elevator is mad crazy and I want this foolishness to end.
“Damn.”
I look over just as Cameron drops his BlackBerry back into his briefcase. “No signal either,” he tells me as he removes his jacket and steps over near me to bend and spread it on the floor of the elevator. “Go ahead and sit. We might as well get comfortable.”
He holds out his hand to me and it might as well been a damn snake the way I look at it.
What will it feel like to him
, I wonder, just before I slip my hand onto his.
Pure electricity. Heat. Desire. Yearning.
Just like I thought.
Our eyes meet.
I feel like everything on me—including the fine hair on my body—is sweating. And I know he feels it too. I can tell it from the look in his eyes.
I hurry to use his hand for support so that I can break the hold he has on me. As I settle on the hard ass floor, I watch as he lowers his body to the floor too and presses his back to the wall opposite me.
“So . . . how's married life treating you?” I ask him with the fakest damn smile ever.
“Don't,” he said shortly, bending his legs to sit his elbows on his knees.
“What? Is it all too sacred to discuss?” I straighten my legs in front of me and pull my skirt down over my legs.
He says nothing and just reaches for his briefcase to take out a file and one of his Mont Blanc pens.
That he obviously is ignoring me bothers me. “I guess I should thank you for the transfer because I'm liking the finance department a lot.”
He jots down something in the file before he cuts his eyes up to look over at me. “Better than mergers and acquisitions?”
“Yes.”
He smiles and shakes his head. “Liar.”
I arch an eyebrow. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Cameron lifts his head and I'm looking at his handsome face. His deep set eyes and square jaw. His lips. His chin. His high cheekbones. Damn, this motherfucker is fine. “Mergers and acquisitions is about the hunt and the kill. The chase. Aggression. Finance is just a means to all of that. You, Monica Winters, are all about the chase. You go after what you want and you don't sit back and wait for it to come to you.”
“True,” I admit. “But I also hate to lose and no one can guarantee that everything you want will be yours.”
Cameron's eyes shift away from mine.
Damn right, I'm not talking about business anymore.
“When all that bullshit went down with Dom and Rah you would drive straight from New York every night and just chill with me in my room. Bring me food. Rent me movies. Just talk to me.” Emotions rose in me. “You did anything you could do to help me forget that my ass was stuck in a bed with my leg shattered in two or that one of my best friends betrayed me. I don't think I ever said thank you for that . . . for being a
really
good friend.”
“I liked hanging out with you. Being around you made me feel like I was a teenager again without a care in the world.” He smiles kinda bashfully. “No worries about business expectations or bills or none of that stuff. I just was a guy enjoying hanging out with a girl.”
I reach over with my foot to tap it against his. “Yeah, hanging out with you was fun. It was different. No clubs. No weed. No Henny. No label dropping. No flodging. No drama. Just the realness. Just a girl hanging out with a boy and having fun.”
We get real quiet . . . but in a good way. That reminiscing on good times kinda way.
“It's been a year but I feel like a different person. Things I thought were so important seem silly.”
Cameron nods. “It's called growing up.”
I bit my bottom lip as I kick off my shoes to free my toes. “Feels like I still have a lot of growing up to do.”
“You're in your early twenties. Trust me just reaching twenty-five will be a big deal and your thirties will make you feel like you know everything. You'll see everything different.”
As I wiggle my toes, I look at him with soft eyes. “Like maybe if I was older and more mature I woulda realized just how much I loved you before it was too late.”
Cameron's eyes are
so
intense as he looks at me like he can see my soul. It makes me breathless as hell. My heart skips so crazily. My entire body shivers from that look.
“I never knew you loved me. I didn't want to own up that I loved you, Cameron,” I admit to him softly as nothing but that undeniable chemistry stirs between us.
When he still doesn't say a word, I throw my hands up. “Listen after what happened at the church I promised I wouldn't do this with you again. I'm so sick of putting my heart out to you and then you just—”
Suddenly his lips are on mine. And his arms are wrapped around me. And his body is pressing mine to the floor. I moan from deep in my soul at the feel of his tongue stroking mine as his dick hardens against my belly and his hips grind into mine. I just feel the sweetest damn pleasure at having the man I love in my arms. Tears fill my eyes and my heart is open wide. “I love you, Cameron. I love you so much,” I whisper against his mouth as he leans his head up to look down at me.
He nods slowly before he touches his lips down on my chin and admits, “I love you, too. I do. My marriage is a mess because I love you. And deep down I think she knows it, too.”
Cameron gives me one more kiss that feels like it's the last one ever before he rolls off my body and climbs to his feet. He lets out this deep ass breath before he slams his fist against the wall of the elevator. “I fucked up, Monica. I fucked up.”
It hurts like a motherfucker to hear that torture, that regret, in his voice.
“I care for my wife. I do. But you can only love one person at a time and I try to deny it but deep down I knew you were the one I love. I shouldn't have married her. I shouldn't hurt her . . . or you.” He turns and looks down at me. “I fucked up. I thought I was over you. I really thought I could make this marriage with Serena work.
This
drama.
This
bullshit.
This
triangle shit ain't me. I fucked up.”
I get up on my feet and walk over to press my hands to his face. “Cameron, what are you going to do about it?” I ask him softly. I'm happy that he still loves me but I'm sad because he seems to regret it.
The elevator jolts and the lights on the panel flicker as it begins to move downward. We move apart to gather our things and straighten our clothes.
“What are you going to do, Cameron?” I ask him again just before the elevator eases to a stop and the doors open.
“Cameron!”
We both look up at his wife, Serena, standing in the front of a crowd of people in the lobby. She makes a slight face at seeing me in the elevator with Cameron before she throws on a smile and steps forward to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him in a way that is nothing but some bullshit ass show for me.
Cameron pulls back from the kiss with a small shift of his eyes towards me. We all step off the elevator as the maintenance man steps on.
“I came to surprise you with dinner in your office,” she says.
“I was on my way home,” he tells her.
“Then let's go home,” she tells him.
I stop by the massive security desk and watch them leave arm in arm. Just before they walk out the automatic doors, Cameron turns and gives me one last look.
“Are you okay, ma'am?” the elderly security guard asks me.
I watch through the glass as Serena and Cameron walk away together. They look so happily-ever-after together. “No. No, I'm not okay,” I answer him with the God's honest truth.

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