Page 26 of Without You
He scrambled from the bed. Movement in the room suggested he’d gathered his pants and put them on. The bedroom door slammed, and seconds later muffled yelling came from the front of the house as Kim and Terrence argued outside.
Charisse wanted to die. She’d done something so vile, she didn’t know if she could look at herself later.
She’d become the other woman.
12
“Well, your life might be in shambles, but you look great.” Vicky, Charisse’s friend and hairstylist, stood back and assessed her handiwork.
“Thanks,” Charisse said dryly.
Vicky smiled then twisted her around in the chair so she could face the mirror.
Charisse fluffed the shiny strands and shook her head from side to side so her hair bounced. She had been overdue for a visit to the salon, and her friend did a great job as usual. She’d given Charisse a retouch, applied a semi-permanent color to enrich her natural hue, and sewn in a couple of blonde tracks to layer in brightness to her hair.
The effect was amazing. She looked younger and refreshed. Very important, since her face was once again showing up regularly online.
Ever since the fiasco in Macon, Kim had been making the rounds, telling anyone who’d listen that her boyfriend, T-Murder, broke her heart. Terrence claimed to Charisse that he and Kim were not in a relationship and merely hooked up every now and again. Kim clearly saw their “hookups” differently and posted a video with tears in her eyes, bemoaning the fact that she found the man she thought she had a future with in bed with his ex-wife. She was particularly devastated since she went to Macon to console him after the death of his grandmother.
The doorbell hadn’t worked, and she tried the door and unfortunately for Charisse and Terrence, found it unlocked. No doubt because they’d both paid little attention to locking up when they’d been buzzing off “the reefer.” So that’s how Kim managed to enter the house and discover them in bed together.
Charisse knew better than to follow the story, but she nonetheless checked the usual places online. When she saw the photos of herself, a couple obviously taken through long-range camera lenses, she’d been annoyed and appalled at her appearance. For the next few weeks at least, while this woman made her rounds and Charisse had somehow become public enemy number one, she wanted to look her best while being disparaged online.
Vicky brushed fine hairs off her shoulders. “How do you feel now?”
“Like a new woman.”
“Well, you look great.”
“Thanks to you.” Minutes later, she handed Vicky a hefty tip. “See you in a couple of months.”
“Take care of yourself, girl.” Her friend’s eyes filled with sympathy.
“I’ll try.”
Charisse went to the front, avoiding eye contact with the other patrons on the way, and paid for her services. Her security detail, a large white man who stood out like an orange in a bushel of apples, left the chair he sat in while Vicky did her hair, and came to stand near her. She donned large sunglasses and walked a block to the black SUV parked at the curb. The bodyguard opened the back door and she slipped in, safely ensconced behind tinted windows. Then he climbed in the front with the driver.
She returned to Atlanta the same day Kim discovered her and Terrence but hadn’t seen him since they parted over a week ago. They’d spoken on the phone twice since then. On the last call he insisted that not only would the kids have security, but he didn’t want Charisse driving and would assign her a bodyguard for when she left the house, until the hoopla surrounding the scandal died down.
She’d spent years out of the spotlight and grew accustomed to driving wherever she needed to go, but because she’d unexpectedly been thrust back into the public eye with such force, she agreed with Terrence. Her nerves were mess, and she worried each time she stepped foot in public, someone would secretly take a photo of her and post it online, or she’d be approached by curious fans or an aggressive reporter. Knowing the kids were safe and having someone else responsible for taking her back and forth and escorting her to her destinations around the city made life a little easier and gave her one less thing to worry about.
She walked into the house at twelve-thirty, fixed a simple omelette and fruit lunch, and then sat down at the counter to eat. The kids were all going over to friends’ houses after school and wouldn’t be home until dinner, so she had plenty of time to catch up on bills and send a couple of emails.
At one-thirty, the intercom buzzed and she checked the monitor. Terrence stood outside at the door. What was he doing here?
He looked up at the camera, and her heart tightened. Memories of the night they spent together came rushing back, and her skin heated as if he was standing right there, caressing her body all over again.
She could feel him inside of her. Could taste the saltiness of his skin and experience the almost violent way he shoved into her as he growled his need into her ear, alternating between devastatingly slow strokes and mind-blowingly heavy thrusts.
Charisse fanned her face and breathed slowly from her mouth to calm down. At this rate, she’d spontaneously combust before he stepped foot in the house.
She pressed the intercom button. “Use your key,” she said.
She worried about her reaction to seeing him in the flesh again, but they needed to talk about the explosion in the media and their supposedly rekindled relationship.
Terrence entered the house and came back to the kitchen. His wavy hair looked freshly trimmed, lined up around the edges and a little higher on top.
“Hey.”
