Page 13 of Cherry's Jubilee

“I don’t want to hear any shit from you,” she says as she lifts my shirt over my head. “That man is fine. He’s here, and I don’t give a damn what his reason is for being five days late; you’re going out with him. He might be a day late, but we know for a fact he’s not a dollar short.” She pushes me on the bed and starts to pull off my leggings.

“Will you get off me?” I say. “The man—”

“The man is fine, rich and he’s here,” she repeats. “Besides, think about how much this will fuck Ashley up. Right out there,” she says, pointing at the door, “could be your next boyfriend. Hell, he could beyour husband. And you better go so you can introduce me to one of his rich friends.”

“Boyfriend? Husband? Have you lost your mind, Ginge? And you know I don’t give a damn about Ashley. If I go, it will have nothing to do with her,” I say.

“Ifyou go? You’re going. I’m not Ashley, bitch. I will beat your ass, but fine. Don’t do it to get back at her. Just go. The Ashley thing will be gravy, and you know how much I love gravy.”

She puts a brush in my hand. “Here. Do something with that.” She points at my head. “I’m going to find you an outfit.”

“But we have plans,” I remind her. “Food. Netflix.”

“Our plans just changed.”

Chapter 7

Daniel

She comes out twenty minutes later with her friend pushing her in my direction. While they were gone, I looked around her tiny apartment. There’s not much for me to see. Only two pictures, a family picture at her sister’s wedding and one of her on her graduation day. She’s beautiful in both, but in the college photo, she has a bit of shyness to her. She’s probably thinking of where she fits in the world, and what she’s going to do next. At least that’s what I think. I’ve always known my path, and lucky for me, I’ve always wanted to follow in my dad’s footsteps.

She’s different in the wedding picture. She’s a siren. She’s sexy in a form-fitting powder blue dress. It molds perfectly to her hourglass figure.

“Here she is,” her friend says. “I’m Ginger.” She offers me her hand, and I take it. She smiles at me and seems friendly. I smile back.

“I’m Daniel Jubilee.”

“Yeah, I know,” she says. “And you knew that I knew on Saturday, didn’t you?” When all I do is nod, she says, “Have fun, kids.”

Cherry has the same shy look tonight as she did in the graduation picture. I extend my hand to her, and she looks at her friend. Ginger elbows her in the ribs, and she finally takes my hand.

I’ve remembered her touch all week. I only rested my hand on top of hers for a few seconds, but it’s like she branded me. Now that I’mtouching her again, I know I didn’t imagine how she feels. Her hand is soft and surprisingly small for someone her height. I take it and lift it to my lips. Her skin is soft and smells of jasmine and vanilla. This version of her is different from the confident, talkative woman I met a few nights ago. The same woman I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for the past five days.

She smiles, and my heart does something it’s never done before. It skips a beat at the sight of a beautiful woman, but Cherry doesn’t know how beautiful she is, and I know it’s my mission to show her.

“Have fun,” Ginger repeats herself, and after pushing Cherry again, we finally leave the small apartment—which I think is smaller than the master bathroom in my penthouse.

I hold her hand and lead her outside. Neither of us speaks as we walk down the stairs into the cool May air. My car and driver are outside, and he has the back door open to the Escalade. I gesture for her to go in and slide in beside her.

To my shock, she doesn’t ask any questions. She doesn’t ask where we’re going or ask for more details about why I haven’t called in six days. Maybe it’s because we’re not alone, but I don’t like her being this quiet. I want the smart-mouthed woman with the false bravado I met a few nights ago.

“Wow,” she says once I let her into my penthouse. The housekeeper takes her denim jacket, and I take her hand and lead her to the bar. She looks around the place and walks to the wall of windows overlooking Commonwealth Ave.

Instead of pouring her a glass of white wine, I stand there and admire her. She’s downright regal as she stands there with a hand on her hip. She has long arms, and long legs that I’d like to have over myshoulders. Her profile is like a perfect snapshot. I admire her full lips and perfect nose from here. I know her hands are soft, and I can’t wait to experience how the rest of her body feels, smells, and tastes.

“White wine?” I ask.

“I only drink French champagne,” she says with her back still turned.

I go to the wine fridge and pull out a bottle of her preferred drink. Once the bottle pops open, she turns and saunters to me. She gets there just in time for me to hand over her champagne flute.

“Is it to your liking?” I ask after she takes her first sip.

“It’ll do,” she says.

“Let me know if you want anything else,” I say. “I’m at your service.”

She eyes me from the rim of her champagne flute as if trying to read my mind. I stare into her brown eyes. Soon, that’s not enough, so I run my thumb along her cheek. A slight tremor runs through her.

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