Page 23 of Love's Most Wanted
That got my attention.
“It is?” I frowned.
“Yep.” She smirked, finally taking her fucking hand off me. Usually, I would check a female for touching me when I didn’t want her to, but I felt stuck when it came to Tamira. She held my career in her fucking hands, and I hadn’t gotten to the point where I could move how I wanted to. She could end my shit with one email to the right fucking person—she’d done the shit to muthafuckas before. “I’m tired of his ass. Him missing call times, us having to reshoot certain scenes several times because he’s too drunk. This season was supposed to be wrapped up already, but it’s not, because of his ass. So I got with Kiki, and she came back to me with a perfect way to write him out and kill him off.”
See. I contemplated putting a bullet in her head, but they would cancel the show, so essentially, I would be out of a job either fucking way.
“He know?”
“No, but we’ll tell him on his last day. He’s too unpredictable to tell him now because he might not show up to film the rest of the show.”
“I see.” I nodded then stood. “We only had a small break. I gotta get back out there.”
“I told them you needed more time.” She climbed onto her knees and reached to unbuckle my jeans.
This on top of having a new wife and two girlfriends made a nigga’s life messier than an episode ofJerry Springer. I never thought there was such a thing as having too many women until right now.
“Tamira.” I moved her hands. “I just got into it with that nigga AJ. I need to clear my fucking head so I can go back on set and work.”
“What better way to clear your head then?” She reached through the slit in my boxers, smiling salaciously.
“I think I’m good. Real shit.” I gripped her thin wrists.
“Oh, you’re good?” Her brow raised, and her whole demeanor made a nigga take pause.
Not saying anything in response, I sat down and let her get back to business, not missing the wide smile she had before taking my dick into her mouth.
* * *
Pulling into my designated parking space at the apartment building I owned, I shut down the engine and hopped out with a lot on my mind. Truthfully, I had no business being here right now, trying to visit Kabrina, but she’d been on my mind, and I wanted to check on her.
From being exposed on the internet as a mistress, to losing clients—something I learned from social mediafirstand then her—I knew she was going through a lot. The pregnancy was just the horrible fucking cherry on top.
I wanted to believe her when she said the shit wasn’t mine, but I couldn’t confidently say I hadn’t hit that night. I hoped I didn’t, not only because that wasn’t how I wanted to become a father, if I chose to, but also because I didn’t like having sexual encounters I couldn’t remember, and especially didn’t like it whenshecouldn’t remember the shit.
It made a nigga feel like a rapist low-key.
Once I made it up to her studio, I rang the doorbell, stepping back some as I waited.
“Hey.” She peeked her head out, brown hair falling all seductively and shit like she was featuring in a damn shampoo commercial.
“Aye, I just came to check on you. You gon’ let a nigga in?”
“Uh, sure.” She widened the door to allow me inside.
Entering, I took in the way she’d made the place hers. It’d been empty for so long that it was strange seeing the shit decked out like this.
“How you doing?” I asked as I took a seat on her small couch.
She joined me before saying, “I’m fine. I could be worse, honestly.” She gave me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, letting me know she didn’t feel it. “I heard something happened on set between you and AJ. Saw it on social media, but it had no details.”
“Yeah, I tried to talk to him about fucking with you, and shit went left…” I opted out of telling her that he’d called her a liar and how she knew about his wife. She had enough shit to stress over.
“I see.” She looked away, and for some reason, she looked beautiful as fuck right now. Her outfit was laid-back—a simple pair of sweat shorts and a tank top—but she looked good. “I appreciate you, Nique, but I don’t need you jeopardizing your career or reputation for me. You’ve worked too hard to get to where you are.”
“You right, I have, but Ihadto check that nigga.”
“Well, thanks, but don’t make it a habit. One of us needs to have a career if this thing is gonna work,” she joked, and my delayed laugh was embarrassing as fuck.
