Page 15 of Nobody But You

My mind was working a mile a minute.

“Did you just ask me to fucking marry your sister?” Out of all the information he’d just told me, my mind latched on to that singular statement. There was no way I’d heard that shit right.

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t fucking know, man,” he said as he lifted his hand to scratch his head. He looked distressed. I couldn’t help the loud laugh that rose from my stomach.

“You’re seriously laughing right now? When I’m about to lose my damn mind. I thought we could be on some mafia shit. You know, arranging marriages to strengthen the family,” he said with a deadpanned expression. It only caused me to laugh louder.

“Bet. Fuck you, Steph,” he said but started to join in on my laugh.

“Nigga, one, here in the US, we’re higher than the fucking mafia. Two, you’re just sitting here casually offering your sister up for marriage. The second deadliest motherfucker we know. She might try and kill us both for even speaking of the shit,” I said.

“Sounds like a perfect match,” he said with a smirk. I’d thought the same thing, but I wouldn’t dare tell his ass that.

“Besides, she already likes you; she talked about you today, too,” he continued.

My mother was right: men gossip just as much as women.

“Brice got damn it,” I said as I ran my hand down my face. I didn’t even have any words because his ass was gone off something.

I would marry his fine-ass sister, but would she even have me for real?

I couldn’t tell you why I gravitated toward the possibility, nor did I know what he wanted me to do with that knowledge. I chuckled at how this afternoon had gone. This was the second time my name was brought up in marriage talks. Luckily, the waitress brought out our order stopping the crazy ass conversation we werehaving. Once she left, we both said a quick grace, and I shifted the conversation.

“How’s things going at the hospital?”

“I don’t know, man. To be honest, I’m getting burned out there. I love my job, but always being on call and working six on three off is getting old quick. I’m thinking about coming out here if JoJo doesn’t come back.”

“I’ll look out while she’s here. I can’t guarantee anything. Her ass is a wildcard, but at least you know she’s not alone until you get shit figured out. So, what’s up with the Docks?” I asked.

“Last week, one of my guys, Sin, asked for a transfer from our Cali docks. Saying he wanted out of California. Like I said earlier, I don’t trust a fucking soul outside of you and my sister right now. I granted his request because I knew there was a vacancy here. My gut tells me he’s up to something. I went over to check on him. So far, he’s clean.”

“You make sure you keep an eye on that shit. When you return to Cali, I’ll add him to my list of check-ins,” I told him. I let Ice do him, and I did me. I never questioned his ability to do his job because he was fucking good at it, just like I was. We talked it up for an hour before I had to head to my meeting at Hard Rock. I hope this shit went by smoothly because I was tired. I was about to call it a day early for the first time in a long time.

CHAPTER 8

Jourdan

I’d left Tayla and Brice back at my house. Brice had come in a few minutes ago as I was preparing to leave. I didn’t know if they planned on staying with me, but I’d explicitly told them that no sexual relations were to be had in my damn house. They looked at me like I’d grown two heads, but I was serious. I was going through a long, dry spell. The only person who would be fucking there was me.

Very fucking long. Longer than a damn pharmacy store receipt. Ugh! Tsk. The only biscuits getting sopped at thirteen-three-ten are mine.

I lived in a two-story modern home on the outskirts of Cypress Crest. Sitting at just under two thousand square feet, it was modest. It was painted tan with oversized black windows, black trim, and stonework. After wasting so much money on home rentals, I decided to buy a house while I was here, and fell in love with a home near Cypress Crest. Cypress Crest was where all the wealthyblack people lived. There was another neighborhood called Cypress Heights. However, that one had a mixed population, and the houses there were more traditional, whereas Cypress Crest held more modern-style homes. I constantly asked myself why I was laying down roots in a place I didn’t plan to stay. Yet here I was with no plans of leaving.

Brice is going to love hearing that, JoJo.

Then there was him, Stephon Rockwell. The man who was so close to me, yet so far. The man whom I didn’t know if I could trust.

Could you fully trust any man, though? Why did he have to be in the fucking drug game? Could I even date someone who wasn’t?

I was so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t even realized I was pulling into the Hard Rock Gym parking lot. That twenty-minute drive had flown by. After finding a place to park, I quickly skimmed through my work bag to ensure I had everything I needed to conduct a successful presentation. After confirming, I got out of the car and headed inside.

When I entered, I heard metal clanking and the hums of several treadmills. I could count the number of bodies in the room, which wasn’t good. I was confident I could help change that. Approaching the desk, the young woman gleefully greeted me.

“Hi, welcome to Hard Rock. You must be Mrs. Washington,” she said.

“Oh, it’s Miss, but yes, that’s me. I guess I don’t quite look like I’m here to work out, huh?” She looked over me and my attire.

“You definitely look like you work out because your body is tea. It’s because you’re very punctual, it’s four on the dot, and Justin told me to be expecting you at that time. Let me let him know you’re here.” Her fingers moved deftly over the numbers as she called back to his office. While I waited, I took one more look around the gym. It was just blah. No colors, no flow, no anything. I wasn’t an interior designer, but I knew this wasn’t what it should be. It was just gym equipment sitting in a boring ass white and gray room. I continued exploring before a man I assumed was Justin came from behind to retrieve me.

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