Twisted Vows of Seduction (21 page)

Naomi signed her name and Dave signed underneath her. He then reached back into his briefcase, pulled out an endorsement stamp, and stamped each check.

“I'll wash these through my Swiss accounts and then wire the money to the title company,” Dave said confidently. “You don't have to worry about your wife trying to trace these babies.”

Greg leaned in to kiss Naomi. “I did this for us. You know that, right?” Greg said.

Naomi nodded and laid her forehead against his. “Yes. I know,” she said, believing every word of it.

“Here are the keys to your new house,” Dave said in his happy-go-lucky voice as he handed each of them a set.

Naomi held the keys in her palm. She realized at that very moment that this was actually happening. It wasn't a dream. She owned this million-dollar mansion, free and clear.

“Now this calls for celebration!” Dave exclaimed. He walked over to the champagne that had been chilling on ice, apparently reserved for the new homeowners. He poured three glasses and passed one to Greg and then Naomi. Naomi refused hers politely.

“My ‘fiancée'…,” Greg smiled at Naomi, “doesn't drink.” Greg took a healthy sip from his glass. He then walked behind her and put his arm around her waist, pulling her into his groin. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear, planting a kiss on her jaw line.

Hearing that brought a reassured smile to her face. That's what she needed to hear, and that's what would give her the valor to do what she knew undoubtedly had to be done.

“Did you file a police report?” Jeff asked as he shuffled papers on his desk, searching for a file he had misplaced.

“Yes,” Ménage said painfully.

Jeff could hear her sniffling through the phone and he could only imagine how upset she really was after coming home to find her door kicked in, her apartment ransacked, and the majority of her belongings stolen. She had been robbed in broad daylight and from his understanding, nobody saw a damn thing. Jeff expected that kind of thing in the hood, but not in the modest suburban community she lived in. The other thing that puzzled him was how they managed to clean her out all in one swoop, especially since she lived on the second floor.

“Well, what did the police have to say?” Jeff queried further, finally locating the missing folder. He removed his glasses, then rubbed his itchy eyes. Allergies were kicking his ass something serious today.

“They gave me a number to call, but you know they're not going to do shit! They don't care about nobody but their own,” Ménage retorted. “They may never recover my things and I wouldn't be surprised if my shit was sitting up in the pawn shop by now.”

“Well, try to calm down. I know you're mad, but everything's going to be okay. Besides, all that was materialistic shit. Thank God you weren't home when they broke in,” Jeff said, hoping to make her feel a little better about the situation.

“But that was everything I had,” Ménage said, crying once again. “I don't know what I'm going to do now,” she murmured.

“Listen—”

“Ughm! I'm interested in buying a car,” a voice called out to Jeff.

Jeff quickly turned around and his face lit up in utter disbelief, causing him to pause instantaneously. “Baby, I'm going to have to call you right back.” He stood up from the chair. “But don't worry. I'll be there to pick you up. Go ahead and pack what you need for the next few days until we can figure something out.”

“Okay, baby,” Ménage said, sounding as if she were scared for her dear life. “I'll be at Tiffany's.”

“All right. Talk to you soon.” Jeff slipped his cell phone in his pocket and rushed over to the young man he hadn't seen in over a year. “Canvas Green. What's been up with you, man?” he said, embracing in a half-shoulder hug and slap of the hands.

“Nothing much. Out here grinding. Trying to get it, ya know.”

Jeff shot him a disapproving look.

“Naw, not like that.” Canvas chuckled loosely. “I'm a barber now. I cut hair in Oak Cliff at Precisionz Cuts.”

Jeff drew his neck back and gave Canvas a onceover. That's when he noticed Canvas was no longer rocking the long braids. His hair was cut in a bald fade. “Precisionz Cuts, huh?”

“Yep. Matter fact, I got something for you.” Canvas reached in his knapsack and handed Jeff a flyer and a CD. One side of the flyer promoted Canvas as a barber, but when Jeff flipped it over, it was a picture of Canvas with a mic in his hand. He was promoting his single,
Better Days
.

“Singer, barber…man, tell me something you don't do.” Jeff chuckled.

“I do it all. Like I told you before, I'm a hustler and entrepreneur
by blood. This shit is engrained in me.” He laughed, poking his chest out. “Can't help that I was the chosen one,” he said cockily.

Jeff laughed as well, all while thinking he hadn't changed a bit. Still the same cocky son-of-a-gun he'd hired a year ago. “Man, that's good. I'm really proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Canvas said.

He shifted his attention to the young lady standing beside Canvas. She looked no older than Deandra. He stuck his hand out to shake hers. “And what's your name?”

“Anaya,” the little girl answered.

“Nice meeting you, Anaya.”

“You too, sir.” She smiled.

“This my little sister I always talked about.”

Jeff nodded his head, feeling more prouder of Canvas. “You did good, man.”

“Thank you.” Canvas looked around the office. “I ain't gon' hold you up. I just wanted to stop by to check on you. And to thank you. For everything, bro.”

“Don't even sweat it. We all slip off the right track sometimes. As long as we get back on it, is all that matters,” Jeff told him. “But now I might have to come through some time to check out your skills.”

“Do that, man. The first cut on me.”

Jeff chuckled. “All right. Count on it then.”

“Well, we're about to go out to dinner. Anaya made all A's on her report card.”

“All A's?” Jeff smiled at Anaya who gave him a wide-toothed grin as she nodded vigorously. “That means you're super smart.”

“And I made perfect attendance!” she added, lavishing in the attention.

Canvas chortled to himself. “Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that one.”

“You're doing a fine job, man. Keep it up.”

“Thanks, Mr. Jackson. I will.” Canvas looked down at his sister. “All right, Anaya, let's let Mr. Jackson get back to work.”

Jeff rounded his desk and grabbed his suit jacket. He spotted the green folder underneath a pile of paperwork and pulled it out. “Actually, I was getting ready to head out myself. I'll walk out with you.” Before leaving, he popped his head into Christie's cubicle.

Christie lowered her eyes and a sinister grin played on her lips. “Back for seconds already?”

Jeff eyed her hungrily. He looked around him and then back at her. “Actually my head is still spinning from two hours ago, but I'd love to get a rain check.”

“Your wish is my command. You know where I live and you know where I work.”

Jeff's dick began to swell all on its own. He almost forgot the reason he'd stopped by. “Oh. If you don't mind, could you give this to Robby, please? He was looking for it earlier.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks.” Jeff winked at her. He turned around and headed out. Canvas and Anaya were hanging by the door. “I'm heading north if you need me to drop you guys off anywhere,” Jeff said as they walked out of the doors.

“Actually, we rolling now,” Canvas beamed, pointing to the lemon candy-painted box Chevy Caprice.

“Nice ride you got there.”

“And check out her twenty-inch silver stilettos,” Canvas said, referring to his car as a woman.

“You showing out, ain't you?”

“Got the ladies breaking their necks, man!” Canvas laughed.

“Ha, ha, ha. I can believe it. Well, y'all be careful and I'll come
through Saturday and let you tighten me up. Maybe we can hit the court and catch up some more afterwards.”

“Bet that!”

They parted ways and Jeff got in his car and headed straight to Grace's house, Denise's mom, to pick up Deandra before going to pick up Ménage. Since Nadine had called him back to tell him that she had made it out of her appointment in time to pick up Canvas, that was one less thing he had to do. However, he couldn't believe that he was about to do something he'd told himself he'd never do—bring a woman into his house. But he couldn't leave her hanging, he thought to himself. She had no family here. No real friends, besides Tiffany, whom she had refused to ask. Jeff was all she had. He hoped and prayed Deandra would be okay with it. Besides, it was only temporary. A couple of weeks couldn't hurt.

T
he apartment really did look like she had been robbed. She had sold her white leather furniture and bedroom set to Tiffany for $800 on the spot cash money, and everything else was basically boxed up and taken to the storage.

Ménage had decided on purchasing the unit simply for this exact reason. She never knew when the point and time would come for her to have to bounce, but she was aware beyond a shadow of a doubt that it would come. And with Slug popping up in her life and trying to convert her back to his thugged-out lifestyle, the warning signs couldn't have been more heedful. This had to be a sign from God that it was time to set sail. She was going to leave everything behind so that she could pursue her dreams of becoming one of the best actresses alive. She'd had her fun, made her money, and left her mark. Now it was time to explore new things, new people, and new opportunities, in Hollywood.

She placed her suitcase and purse by the door. That was all she was taking with her tonight. She eagerly waited for Jeff's call so when her phone rang, she jumped to answer it, hoping it was him. When she saw the number she had programmed for Slug pop up, she shot the call straight to voicemail. A minute or two later, he called right back. Again, she forwarded the call. This time she received a message alert.

She played back the voicemail he had left.

“Sup, Ebony. You know who it is. Get back at me.” She deleted it and went to the next one. “This me, Slug. Call a nigga back, girl. I'm trying to come scoop you tonight.” Ménage froze and her fingers moved in a panic before she could even hit the delete option. She began calling Jeff to see where he was. The last thing she needed was for them to both show up at the same damn time.

“Hello,” Jeff answered.

“Hey baby, where are you?” Ménage managed to disguise her hysteria.

“I'm actually pulling up now. Go ahead and come down.”

“All right, baby.”

Ménage grabbed the suitcase and her purse as she opened the door. When she saw Jeff's BMW pull up to the curb, she headed down. He got out of the car and rushed over to get the suitcase. He loaded it into the trunk and she started for the front seat. Her eyes bucked wide when she saw the little girl in her spot.

“I forgot to mention that I was bringing my daughter with me.”

Ménage forced a smile as she climbed in the backseat.
You damn right you did
. “It's okay,” she mustered once Jeff got in the car. “I love children.”

“Deandra, this is Ms. Men—”

“Ebony,” Ménage interjected. She reached her hand out to Deandra who smiled as they exchanged handshakes.

“You're really pretty,” Deandra complimented.

Ménage batted her eyes. “Why thank you. You're very pretty too.”

Jeff began driving off, occasionally looking back at Ménage in the mirror. She could tell he was pleased with how the two of them had warmed up to each other so quickly. This was going to be easy, she thought, as she smiled at Deandra. What the little girl failed
to realize was that she wasn't going to steal her daddy from her, she was going to steal his money.

“I can't wait to play in your pretty long hair,” Ménage said.

Deandra's face lit up in excitement. “I want long curls like you, Ms. Ebony. I'm tired of ponytails, but that's all my daddy knows how to do.”

“Hey, I tried the curling thing and it didn't work out.” Jeff chuckled.

Ménage laughed along.

“And I burned myself,” Jeff continued. “Ten times.”

“My…my… Daddy's afraid of a little
heat
,” Ménage teased. Jeff caught on as he gave her a look that said everything his mouth couldn't. “Well, I will do your hair for school in the morning in some really pretty long curls.”

Deandra's smile was broad. “I can't wait!”

Ménage kept her smile locked and her seductive gaze fixated on Jeff so that every time he looked in the mirror, he knew what she was thinking. She had given herself a period of three weeks to find what she needed. But from the way things were going, she doubted it would take that long.

Her phone started ringing and once again, it was Slug. She sent the call straight to voicemail. And like all the other times, he left a voice message. She pulled the phone closely to her ear to listen to it.

“Where are you? I've called you like a hundred times. You better not be at that damn strip club. You know what, I'm on my way.”

That last voicemail had Ménage scared shitless. She didn't know exactly what Slug was capable of and she wasn't trying to find out. But she did know that his ass was crazy and that he couldn't take no for an answer. He was also very much still the jealous type. He couldn't stand for another guy to look at her. That was always the
reason for unnecessary altercations. Dealing with him always came with chaos. She didn't miss any of that drama and she sure as hell wasn't going back to it. So she couldn't wait for him to go over to her place like she knew that he would. She had a surprise waiting for him—she wouldn't be there.