Just Can't Let Go Read online

  “My condolences, bruh,” LB said, shaking his head.

  I told him, “It’s all good.”

  Conner was gone. Alexis didn’t care that I was an afterthought. The only way I’d inherit his money was if something happened to my sister’s baby . . . aw man.

  My brain flooded with what-ifs. Sis probably never was pregnant. If she were and she’d already lost the kid, based on the trust, the money was already ours. Knowing her, Conner never said I’d shot him. He didn’t see me. I was at Blake’s. Alexis was handling everything as she should.

  I had a plan of my own.

  How was I going to break down the particulars to my boy LB about Alexis without raising his temp from 98.6 to 102? Betrayal was not my intent. Shit couldn’t be undone. Slamming him with the unexpected was unavoidable. But I needed him back in the game, for Alexis’s sake, not mine.

  Putting on blinders in the ATL couldn’t keep a man from being unfaithful, baby! I rubbed my palms together. Men living here had too . . . many choices. Go with the flow of females or catch a one-way flight out of Hartsfield and never come back. Even on a layover a bruh could get laid in one of those private restrooms marked “Family.” LB knew we were the masters of “fuck ’em where you find ’em, leave ’em where you fuck ’em.”

  What we called the “hell well” was the side of the bar where we stacked cocktails for table waiters to pick up. I added two more mojitos to that side of the counter, checked the computer for new drink orders.

  You a beast for this, Spence.

  Looking beyond the shelves lined with liquor bottles for the bar—through the clear window—I saw cars bumper-to-bumper turning off of Peachtree Street into the mall’s entrance for the parking lot. Prime Steak and Seafood restaurant one level up had a better view for customers, not the bartenders. Their prices were higher, food wasn’t as good. Our weekday $5.50 an item happy hour bar menu made us the most pop.

  Typical hot summer sunset had drop-top throwback classics, Bentleys, Porsche, Benz, Lexus, Tesla, Maserati, Ferrari, cruising up to valet. Breasts half covered, ass cheeks almost out was the norm. Felines made hunting on a Friday night easier than uncorking a bottle. That’s why when my manager, Derrick, asked me to close tonight, I was on top of it.

  “Are you dining with us?” I asked, keeping my peripheral on those pronounced nipples.

  “As a matter of fact, I am,” she said with a sultry tone. Reminded me of Sade’s song, “The Sweetest Taboo.” I’d love to bless her with my skills. Make her hum on my mic.

  LB did a James Brown slide, stopped beside me, flapped open a white cloth napkin, plopped it in front of ole taboo gurl. Set up a small plate and wrapped silverware for her, then tapped the bar twice.

  Times like this LB was more cute than good looking. One inch under six feet. Slim 180. Had a decent swole on his biceps. Clean, cut and shaved. We were both on the slender side. I was, of course, better looking and three inches taller. A few inches made a huge difference.

  Turing my back to the customer, I whispered to my boy, “I’m done grinding Cheesecake chicks. Taboo is all yours. I’m breaking from all babes for a while. Focusing on me.”

  “Good luck, bruh. I support you, but I know you. You created our ‘f ’em’ mantra. Putting your pussy grinder on the shelf, that won’t last long. Too many kitties in the litter to choose from. Hundred bucks you’ll take a number before the end of our shift.”

  I nodded upward. “Bet.” He could line ’em up and lick them all. I was enjoying the view, but I wasn’t penetrating for a while.

  We had that Morse code for women. One tap. We wanted in on her. Sometimes we’d go for a threesome if she were game. Two taps meant we wanted an exclusive. Too many hot chicks in the ATL to trip off of one the way I’d done with Charlotte.

  Blake didn’t give me that heart-wrenching, can’t breathe, don’t wanna be without you feeling. Wasn’t sure why I couldn’t leave her alone, though. Ego. Maybe. It was easy to let all my shit rest at her place. Gave me a legit to go back whenever I wanted. Charlotte was special. Missed her crazy ass for real. Once I got myself on track we could have a heart-to-heart. We might still have a chance to make our relay solid or at least be friends.

  My not keeping it one hundred had hurt Blake, Alexis, and Charlotte. I’d be twenty-eight soon. Getting too old to keep doing the fool. Maybe I wasn’t ready to settle with any female. Should stop forcing it.

  I poured a glass of chardonnay, mixed a JW Lemonade, Italian margarita, then prepared three cosmopolitans. Placed them on the “heaven well” counter. Those were orders from waiters placed by customers in the bar area but not seated at the bar. Less hectic. We all preferred heaven.

  LB serviced new visitors seated at the opposite end from me, took his two taps taboo gurl her white sangria, then stood beside me. “Shutting down the D. This ain’t like you, Spence. Keep it one hundred. Charlotte’s back? You retraced your steps to Blake? Details, dude,” LB said.

  Setting up a few more customers, I shook a shaker real hard, hoping the clashing sound of ice would slow the bomb drop, when I lied to my boy, “Alexis is pregnant.”

  Family first. Had to help Sis find a sperm donor quick. If she was plotting not to break me off, I was going to do my best to give LB a chance to cash in on Alexis’s game.

  He faced the window. Stared into the parking lot. He didn’t blink. Reminded me of how Max would turn his back to Blake and I whenever we’d kiss. I missed that Yorkie. He was a cool dude.

  LB held the wineglass in his hand, bottle of pinot noir in the other. Soon as I’d divulged, I realized I hadn’t fessed that I’d been with Alexis too. He’d had her first, though. Begged me not to dig in.

  Money. Family. A fresh start would be good for Sis; then she’d know who the father was for sure.

  Fuck! Getting deeper into the madness of deception when all I wanted was out was necessary right now. There was no telling what other traps were in Conner’s trust. In case it was true, that there was a possibility that my uncle could get the two mil, I’d shoot him first. Just the way I . . . I took the bottle, poured the drink, placed it on the “hell well” counter, circled back to LB.

  His expression was the same. “How many months is she?”

  “You hit it raw, dude?” I prayed he hadn’t. I’d gone down on Alexis. Even in a ménage I had limitations with my boy. No touching one another. No penetration without a helmet. No oral on the chick, but she could slob both of us. Some felines just loved sucking dick.

  “Nah, but that was my girl. It could be mine, man. Stranger shit has happened.”

  “Didn’t she clip you for a cool grand?”

  “I’m over that. She needed it for her rent. Can’t have my girl homeless. It’s only money.”

  What? Not the dude who believes in going Dutch on every date. Alexis had LB in the same position she had James. Fetal with her hand on the balls.

  “She’s twelve weeks.” That would be true if she hadn’t miscarried. Laughing to myself, I’d have to take blame for that. Charlotte did what most women would to protect themselves. I couldn’t be pissed about that.

  LB pulled out his cell. I covered it.

  “Nah, man. Don’t call my sister.”

  His head snapped in my direction. “Come again. Your what?”

  “Just found out her father is mine too. We got a lot to converse about, man. I’ll down you on the particulars right after we clock out.” Revealing that truth should make him assume I never grinded with Alexis.

  LB shook his head. This might work to my advantage to get those two in bed again. Alexis would do it for the money. LB for love. He became silent. Busied himself with pouring drinks.

  Best not to communicate with LB tonight. After my shift I’d dip. Hit up my sis. She might want to go it with James. That way she could keep all the money and take his too. My boy LB was stable enough and all, but James was definitely the better stock market choice.

  I worked the opposite end of the bar.

  Heard a voic
e say, “Haven’t I seen you somewhere, handsome?”

  Turned around. I froze like my boy LB was a few minutes ago.

  She extended her hand and just like that, my dick was out of retirement! He could’ve greeted her palm the second she’d said, “Ebony Waterhouse.” I was ready to let him loose.

  I gave her a half smile. No need to tap the bar. I was going to tap that ass. Hopefully, tonight. Holding her hand, I told her, “Congrats on your new show. I’ll definitely be watching.”

  “You’d better,” she said with a wicked grin.

  A tall white dude with thin, dark wavy hair dressed in a tailored blue suit sat beside her. I let go of her hand. Hadn’t seen him in here before. “Bartender, a bottle of your best champagne for me and my lovely wife.”

  My dick shriveled up. I needed to stick with my original script and chill on chicks.

  He said to her, “Sweetheart, I have to take this call. I’ll be right back.”

  Didn’t know she was married. I was no suit and tie kind of guy. In about ten years, I might up my casual attire game to OG’s elevation. He’d done me a solid by claiming Ebony.

  I had enough problems.

  “Excuse me, bartender,” Ebony said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I answered in a formal tone.

  “Your name is?” Her grin grew a little larger then vanished.

  I shook my head. This babe could be bad and good trouble. “Spencer Domino.”

  She slid me a card. “Nice package,” she said, eyeing my dick. “Call me tonight if you can deliver. My husband likes to watch.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Devereaux

  I love my man with all my heart.

  Love had nothing to do with what happened today. The fact that I care about his fragile ego was the only reason I hadn’t kicked him out of the building.

  Phoenix’s hanging out on set all day made me want to pull his and my hair out!

  A thousand ants crawling on my skin might have annoyed me less than my fiancé answering calls with, “Yeah, man. Let me hit you back. I’m on set.”

  At one point I thought I was going to go off on him in front of everyone. Yelling at folks on my payroll was my prerogative, but I did it in a professional capacity, when necessary. Shoving Phoenix’s phone up his butt, then calling and leaving him a message to get out could’ve gotten us on Funk Dat on Majic 107.5. Didn’t want to give him any further justification to brag.

  Traffic on Peachtree Street heading south was bumper-to-bumper. I exhaled, “Thank you, Lord,” reassuring myself that tomorrow would not be a repeat.

  Ebony had done a fantastic job. She showed out for the camera. My entire cast did amazing. The women were gorgeous. They had great chemistry. Hair and makeup was flawless. Wardrobe—high-fashion lingerie with real diamonds, sapphires, and rubies the way I wanted—were loaned to me. Everyone added value, except Phoenix. Regardless of what he was doing while constantly checking his cell, his presence was a major distraction.

  Constantly trying to ignore him was a chore. He’d have to find another way to service his client. When he wasn’t on his phone or standing on the sideline watching Ebony, Phoenix conversed with my staff as they were completing tasks. Even I didn’t do that.

  If I heard him say “Devereaux’s fiancé” one more time, I’d scream. For real.

  Trés could tell I was disturbed. I was glad he’d rescued me from Phoenix. My fiancé was so self-absorbed he was oblivious to how disgusted I was, and that pissed me off more. Acting as though he was scared to miss a click of the camera, he barely took a leak. He was better off staying at home with Nya or being out with his boys. If marriage meant I was going to experience more of what he’d done today, I was starting not to care as much about setting a wedding date.

  “Thank you,” I said to the valet, took my ticket, then went inside. Trés waved. I headed toward the bar with open arms, then collapsed into his.

  The soft tunes resonating from the baby grand soaked into my soul.

  Whispering in my ear, “What an incredible mind you have,” Trés hugged me tight. He had a masculine embrace that made me feel safe.

  I wasn’t a crier, but I felt like shedding tears. I resisted. The weight on my shoulders subsided. “Thanks, Trés. You’re amazing.” I meant that.

  Ocean Prime was convenient for us to meet up as Mercedes was due to arrive for dinner in a half hour. I texted her, I’m here. At the bar with Trés. Mercedes and Alexis were the only two family members who had met Trés while we filmed the pilot.

  He pulled out the barstool next to him, handed me a glass of wine. “It’s not your favorite cab. I order a bottle of Italian so you can”—he paused, then said—“try something new, Dev. You deserve better.”

  I read the label, “Angelo Gaja, Barbaresco. Okay.”

  He couldn’t have ordered my favorite Gravelly Meadows that cost $850 a bottle at Bones because it wasn’t on the list here. Smiling, I sipped, appreciative of his thoughtfulness. “Impressive, man.”

  Trés let out a little laugh. Held my hand. I pulled away. Didn’t want to be rude. Didn’t want him to think I was interested. Yes, I was annoyed with Phoenix, but I was still an engaged woman.

  This time Trés rubbed my shoulder. My body relaxed with his touch. Gave me the idea to have a massage therapist on set next week.

  “Don’t thank me, Dev. I pay attention to what you like,” he said.

  “Mercedes is meeting me here for dinner. You’re welcome to join us.”

  “Is Alexis coming? She’s entertaining. If she had acting skills, I’d say give her a part. Maybe we can write her in as a special guest.”

  “No, I’m not working with family,” I insisted. “But I will admit that her personal life is worth writing about. I’ll fill you in later.”

  Trés touched my thigh. “Give me a chance, Dev. We’d make a great team. Perfect Bollywood power couple.”

  Trés’s wife of twenty-two years passed a year ago from cervical cancer. They married when they were both twenty. He’d shared with me his affairs. Said sometimes a man just wants the feel of new pussy. He swore his wife was the only woman he’d trusted with his heart.

  I smiled. Bet he didn’t think the same way about a woman riding fresh dick. I indulged in the robust taste of my wine. The subtle spicy kick on the tail made me moan. “Um, um, um.”

  “I love you, Dev.”

  I wasn’t responding to that. I’d dated enough men to know that was how they baited women and once we were hooked, they suffered from amnesia. Instead, I said, “I can’t take another day of Phoenix being on set.”

  “I concur. Let me be the bad guy. You be yourself. One of these days you’re going to let me show you how a real man loves his woman. I have an award-winning track record.”

  “Let’s save that for the Emmys. Emotional infidelity is the worst. You know how I feel about exclusivity. I only give myself to the man I’m with.”

  “That’s precisely why I want you. I’ll wait.”

  I heard myself saying, “Am I supposed to cosign for infidelity? No! I will not give you the opportunity to bait me in, lick another woman’s clit, then come home and stick your tongue in my mouth!”

  “Hey, Sis,” Mercedes said, giving me a hug from behind. “Hi, Trés.”

  Trés looked over my shoulder. “Hello, Mercedes. You look stunning. Bartender, a glass of wine for this beautiful lady. Please sit,” he said offering my sister his stool. Trés finished his red wine. “Mercedes, when you see your sister’s premier, you are going to love this woman almost as much as I do. I’ve got to get going. Dev, don’t interfere. I’ll see you in the morning.” He kissed my cheek, then left.

  “I know you’re not having an affair with Trés Vinsaunt,” Mercedes said, moving her stool closer to mine.

  “I have never cheated on Phoenix and I never will.”

  Mercedes sipped her wine. “Um. This selection is brilliant.”

  “How’re the twins?” I asked.

  “Getting more inte
llectual as usual. Enrolled them for a youth engineering program for the summer.”

  “And Benjamin?”

  “I’m going to get straight to why I wanted to meet with you. I hired a private detective to inform me of the truth about my husband. If I find out Benjamin is having an affair, I’m filing for divorce.”

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do? Have someone spy on your husband. Raise your children without their father. Most men do not have a clean track record, but Benjamin is good to you and the kids.”

  “I’m sure Alexis texted you too.” Picking up her phone, Mercedes showed me a photo. “So, you know Phoenix is cheating on you with your star actress?”

  No, she hadn’t. Staring in disbelief, I was not making any assumptions. “It’s a picture, Mercedes. That’s not proof. And even if I were to confront Phoenix, I’d never do it based on anything from Alexis. I love my sister, but that girl has drama to the tenth power in her life. I don’t want chaos in my home.”

  Knots doubled, tripled, quadrupled in my stomach. There had to be a better way to resolve her situation without my involvement. It was almost as though she hadn’t heard what I’d said. My sister had her agenda and I was on it.

  “The detective’s name is Dakota Justice. Here’s her card. You have too much to risk if you marry a loser, Devereaux. Phoenix is beneath you. Don’t marry him. I gave Dakota your number as well because I know you won’t contact her.”

  “Mercedes, this doesn’t feel right.”

  “What won’t feel right, for you and Nya, is divorce. If he checks out clean, you’ll feel better.” Sarcastically, she added, “When’s your wedding date?”

  I picked up the card. Put it in my purse. She knew we hadn’t set one.

  CHAPTER 18

  Alexis

  I’d let myself into the garage, parked my car, then entered his home.

  “If you weren’t pregnant, you wouldn’t be here,” James said, greeting me at the door.

  “You invited me over.” Brushing by him, I asked, “You want your keys back?” before dropping them into my purse.