Читать книгу Getting Some - Kayla Perrin, Kayla Perrin - Страница 7

Three

Lishelle

I have got The Headache from Hell. I rub my temples and groan as I stare at Linda Tennant, my station manager. She’s sitting on the armchair in my dressing room, while I’m on the folding chair in front of the mirror. The makeup artist recently finished doing my face for the six-o’clock news.

“I’m just saying,” Linda says, “you need to give me more than this. Some sort of concrete direction.”

“All I know is that it needs to be a pledge drive.”

“A nationwide pledge drive,” Linda says, her tone doubtful.

“Yes,” I respond without hesitation. “I’d really like to coordinate this with our sister stations across the country. That’s what will make this fund-raising effort unique—as well as raise much more money for the Wishes Come True Foundation.”

“I’m not saying it isn’t a great idea…in theory. But a nationwide fund-raising effort—that’s going to take time. Honestly, by the time we all coordinate schedules, it could be a year before this event takes place.”

“A year?” I all but gasp. “That’s way too long.”

“I’m giving you my opinion.”

“But we need to do this now. Strike while the iron is hot. The embezzlement story has been big news across the country. This is when people will be more likely to give—a lot.”

“I hear you. And we can definitely try to do something on our end. It’s the coordinating it with our sister stations that’s going to be tough.”

“We’ll work it out,” I say confidently. How, God only knows. But I want to see this happen. Soon. Before everyone forgets about the tragic turn of events the foundation faced. Now is the time that people will happily dig into their pockets and give. But a year from now? Who knows?

“I’m open to whatever ideas you have,” Linda says.

“I’ll get you something.” If it means I have to start making calls to all of our sister stations across the country, then I’ll do that.

When Linda leaves my dressing room, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I don’t like what I see. Even with makeup, the dark circles under my eyes are noticeable. I haven’t admitted this to any of my friends, but I haven’t been sleeping well since Glenn screwed me over. And I’ve been far more stressed than I thought I would be.

I was able to exact some delicious revenge on my ex-boyfriend, but I realized after that, that the greatest reward would be doing something to benefit all those kids. My friends Claudia and Annelise agreed. Which is why I’m hell-bent on seeing this nationwide fund-raiser come to fruition.

I sigh and turn away from the mirror. Am I expecting too much? Should I coordinate a local fund-raising drive and forget the grandiose plans?

But that’s not what I want. This means a lot to me. I want more than anything to see something positive come of the heartache my girlfriends and I suffered at the hands of the men we loved. And I can’t think of anything more positive than raising money for the terminally ill children who were robbed.

Of course, it also helps that every moment I spend thinking about how I’ll make this fund-raiser happen is a moment I’m distracted from the memory of just how badly my heart was broken.

Two days later, I’m more than ready to get together with my girlfriends at our regular Sunday brunch spot. I arrive at Liaisons to see that Claudia and Annelise are already there, three mimosas on the table.

“Thank God,” I say as I slip into the booth beside Claudia, already reaching for my drink. The mimosa goes down smooth, hits the spot inside me that needs to be soothed.

“And we’re chopped liver?” Claudia asks playfully.

“Oh, hi, you two.” I smile sweetly as Annelise rolls her eyes.

“It’s been one of those weeks,” I explain. “The planning for our pledge drive is stressing me out. My station manager is basically saying that we can’t coordinate a nationwide effort—at least not in the time frame we want to do this. I want to prove her wrong, but I don’t know if that’s possible.”

“It’ll work out,” Annelise says.

Her carefree attitude irritates me slightly. “That’s very Pollyanna of you, but this shit is turning out to be harder than I’d hoped.”

“And I understand that,” Annelise tells me. “I guess I’m just saying that for today you should try to relax, put everything negative out of your mind. Things have a way of working out despite how much we fret over them.”

I examine her then. Annelise has been looking really happy lately, despite the uncertainty in her life, but today she looks especially so. I ask her, “Something going on that I should know about?”

“Oh, yeah,” Claudia chimes. “Annelise has some amazing news. And so do I.”

“Well, spill it.” I sip my mimosa. “I could use some good news, even if it’s not mine.”

Before Annelise can speak, a woman shows up at our table. I’m a little surprised that it’s not Sierra, the cute Asian girl who has been our regular waitress for as long as I can remember.

“Have you made up your minds?” the stranger asks.

I glance at Claudia and Annelise, wondering if they feel the way I do—unhappy that there’s this new woman at our table. They don’t seem particularly perturbed, but I am.

“Um,” I begin cautiously. “Who are you?”

Beside me, Claudia forces a chuckle. “Our waitress, silly. Lishelle, this is Apple.”

“Apple?” I stare at the woman, a tall, skinny, dark-haired woman who looks too conservative to have such a ridiculous name. “Your name is Apple?”

Apple giggles as she nods. “According to my mother, she was drinking apple martinis the night I was conceived.”

“So she got drunk and got knocked up,” I comment dryly.

Annelise’s eyes grow wide with horror. “Lishelle,” she admonishes.

“I’m just saying…I thought only movie stars gave their kids names like ‘Apple’ and ‘Orange’ or ‘Banana.’”

Claudia places a hand on my wrist. To everyone, it must look like a subtle show of affection. But Claudia actually squeezes my wrist—hard. “Looks like you were already drinking before you got here,” she jokes.

“I can go through our specials,” Apple says. “Of course, we have the buffet—”

“Which is what we always have,” I point out. “Sierra would know that.”

“We’re going to have the buffet,” Annelise quickly says.

“What happened to Sierra?” I ask. “She sick or something?”

“That’s something else we didn’t get to tell you yet.” Claudia’s grin is far too syrupy. “Apple tells us that Sierra apparently fell hot and heavy for some guy, and she’s moved to L.A. to be with him.”

“What?” I practically shriek.

Apple shrugs apologetically, as though this is her fault. Or rather, as though I think this is her fault.

“I’m happy for her,” Annelise comments.

“She just fell for some guy? Didn’t we warn her? Didn’t she hear us bitch enough about men and how you can’t trust them?”

“Can we…not do this?” Annelise gives me a pointed look.

A frustrated breath oozes out of me as I look up at Apple. “It’s just that…for the longest time, Sierra has been our waitress. She always knows what we want.”

“Lishelle, it’s okay.” Claudia lays a hand on my arm. “Apple here is perfectly capable of taking care of us.”

I glance up at Apple. “Of course. I just didn’t…expect you.”

Apple nods, seeming to accept my half-baked apology. “So, three for the buffet…can I get you anything else?”

“Coffee,” Annelise answers.

“And another round of mimosas,” I add. “Lord knows that one won’t be enough today.”

When Apple disappears, Claudia looks at me and scowls. “Could you have been any ruder to that waitress?”

“I’m sorry,” I say. Then I rub my temples. “The thing is…” I don’t finish my statement. I’m not entirely sure what I wanted to say.

“The thing is what?” Claudia prompts.

“The thing is…” My voice trails off on a sigh. “So much has changed lately. For once I’d like to see something stay the same. Something be…fucking consistent. Fucking reliable.”

Annelise fixes me with a mothering look she’s so good at giving, then says softly, “Oh, hon.”

And I swear, that simple look is my complete undoing. I feel my eyes start to mist, and I have to look away before I start bawling like a baby.

“Sweetie.” Claudia’s touch is now gentle. “What’s really going on with you?”

I don’t answer right away. I can’t. I feel foolish for even thinking what I’m thinking.

“You’ve always told us everything,” Annelise says. “Same as we do with you. Don’t hold back now.”

“Okay. I’m just gonna to say this. And I know this will sound weird, but hear me out.” I pause before dropping my bombshell. “I kind of miss Glenn.”

Startled gasps explode from my friends.

“I know. I told you it would sound weird. And I don’t mean that the way it actually sounded.”

“Huh?” Claudia asks before she and Annelise exchange confused looks at my double talk.

“Let me explain what I mean,” I go on. “Glenn screwed me over big-time, so there’s no way in hell I miss him. What I miss is being with a man. I miss being excited about someone. Since my divorce from David, I didn’t give a shit if I ever fell in love again. Then Glenn came back into my life. And he made me so many promises. He went to elaborate lengths to con me. That house he was supposedly going to buy—”

“Lies, Lishelle,” Claudia says. “All of it. Glenn Baxter doesn’t deserve to breathe, much less have you missing him.”

“Honestly, I know how this must sound, but I don’t miss him. I guess I miss being with someone. First my marriage fell apart. Then my relationship with Glenn spontaneously combusted. Glenn made me hope again. Want a man again. And now…” I sip my mimosa. “Suddenly I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever find someone I can trust, who won’t fuck around.” I down the rest of my mimosa. “You know what? Forget I said that. I have no clue what’s gotten over me.”

Claudia and Annelise are silent for a long moment, then Claudia says, “For what it’s worth, I understand what you’re saying. I was with Adam for four years. It’s hard to accept that we’re not together anymore,” she confesses. “Not that I miss him—what he did to me effectively killed my feelings for the bastard—but the pain he caused? That’s still there.”

“This is getting way too depressing.” I glance around for a sign of Apple, who I hope to spot with our second round of drinks. “We’re clearly better off without these guys in our lives.”

“But you’re both grieving,” Annelise points out. “And there’s no shame in that.”

“You’re right,” I say, the understanding of what I’m experiencing helping to chase away some of the sadness. “That’s exactly what we’re doing. Going through a grieving process.”

“Totally,” Annelise agrees.

“I never thought of it that way,” Claudia adds.

“I’m lucky,” Annelise continues. “I’ve had Dominic to help me get over any of the hurt Charles caused me. You two…I say you both need a palate cleanser—a hot fling or a new man. Someone to help make the memories of your relationships distant ones.”

That’s the last thing I need, but I don’t say that to Annelise. I have no interest in getting into the sack with some new guy for a meaningless night of sex.

“You said you have some good news,” I remind her, remembering that Annelise had mentioned that before I got all dramatic. “Are you and Dominic getting married?”

“No.”

“Oh,” Claudia says, the word full of sadness.

“I didn’t mean that to sound so final, if it did,” Annelise tells us. “We’ll definitely wait until my divorce from Charles is finalized before thinking of that step. Which is fine with me. What I want to tell you is what my lawyer said when I saw him today.”

I suck in a sharp breath. For the past few weeks, we’ve all been hoping and praying that she’ll get good news regarding her house with Charles. That she won’t lose her portion of it because her husband decided to rip off terminally ill children. “You said it’s good news?”

A smile spreads across Annelise’s face. “I can’t believe it, but I get to keep my half of the house!”

“Oh, Annie.” I clasp my hands together. “That’s the best news.”

“I know.” She can’t stop beaming. “I’ve been feeling a bit guilty, though. Wondering if it isn’t fair for all the proceeds from the house to go to the charity. But it’s not like I don’t need to live.”

“And you had no part in Charles’s scam.” I reach across the table to grip her hand. “Honey, take the money and run. Put some into your business, invest some, find a place to live.”

“Oh, I don’t think she and Dom will be parting ways anytime soon,” Claudia says.

“Not likely,” I agree. “But you keep some of that money under lock and key. Never let yourself be in a situation again where a man can fuck you over because he’s got the money and you don’t.”

“I won’t.”

I shift in my seat, sitting a little higher. “That was truly good news. My spirits have lifted already.”

“And you haven’t even heard my news yet.”

I turn to my right and face Claudia. “If you tell me that you’ve found another man, I will whoop you upside the head. I don’t want to be the only single one.”

“A man. Right.” Claudia laughs sardonically. “That’s a good one.”

“Then what could possibly be your good news? Adam is going to jail, too? No, if that news had broken, I would have heard it.”

Adam, Claudia’s ex-fiancé, who formerly held the position of president on the board of the Wishes Come True Foundation, was investigated for any possible connection to the embezzlement but was found to have no involvement. Still, when the news of his drug use and sexual fetishes came to light—thanks to our plan of revenge—he resigned from the board amid great scandal.

“No, this isn’t about Adam. But it is about the foundation.”

“I’m listening,” I tell Claudia.

“You know one of my cousins is a music producer, and as such, he obviously has lots of connections.”

“Right.”

“Well, I was talking about our desire to help the Wishes Come True Foundation, and he had an idea. He said that if we want to make this fund-raising effort work, we need to get some big names attached to it.”

“Which is a great idea, yes,” I agree. “But getting someone—”

“Let me finish.”

I mime pulling a zipper closed across my lips.

“Well, Morgan talked to Rugged—you know, that hot new rap artist from Atlanta—about the idea of possibly participating, given that this is his home town, and—”

“And he said yes?” Excitement washes over me.

Claudia nods. “He wants to do it.”

“Yes!” I pump a fist in the air. “This is exactly what we needed. Some celebrity to headline the event.”

Across the table Annelise is grinning, too. “It gets better,” she practically sings.

“Really?” My eyes flit from Annelise to Claudia. Then I notice Apple in my peripheral vision.

“Here are your drinks.” Her face looks flushed as she deposits three mimosas and three mugs of coffee onto the table. “I’m sorry, I got busy with other tables. I didn’t mean to bring them out this late.”

She’s looking directly at me as she offers this explanation, as though she expects me to bite her head off.

“That’s fine,” I tell her.

Nodding nervously, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “You haven’t gotten food yet.”

“We’ve been gabbing,” Annelise explains. “We’ll get to it.”

When Apple walks off, I say to Claudia, “Okay, what’s this even-better news?”

“Right.” She grins. “Well, Rugged likes the idea so much that he said he’d ask other rap artists, like 50 Cent, Ludacris and some others, if they’d like to get involved as well. Maybe do a ‘rap artists support the cause’ type of event.”

“You know what, I will never feel sorry for myself again,” I proclaim, smacking the edge of the table as I do. “I came in here feeling so shitty, but life is still good. There are still good people in the world.”

“Exactly,” Annelise agrees. “I told you things have a way of working out.”

“Can you believe it?” Claudia’s eyes are beaming with happiness. “We’re gonna make this happen. And we’ll raise a ton of money for the foundation.”

“Lord, I hope so.” I reach for my second mimosa. “I’m so passionate about this now, ya know?”

“We know,” Annelise agrees. “And we’ll do right by the children who need this money so desperately.”

“Oh, and Rugged is getting into town tonight and would like to set up a meeting,” Claudia goes on. “Talk to you at least, Lishelle, as your network will be hosting this. Or we can all meet him. Whatever you’d prefer.”

“It’d be great if he could come to the station. Meet with me and my station manager.” My mind races as I think of how this is exactly the boost we needed. “And you’re welcome to come, too, of course. Or I could handle the preliminary meeting. Whatever you think is best.”

“We’ll figure it out by tomorrow,” Claudia assures me. “In the meantime, my stomach is growling.”

“Yeah, mine’s pretty angry too.” Annelise chortles. “And if I keep drinking on an empty stomach…”

“Say no more.” I rise. “Let’s head to the buffet.”

I know the moment that Rugged enters the studio. I hear the excitement in the air. Even a couple of squeals.

I’m in my office, but I don’t move. I sit casually at my desk, a current tabloid open on my lap. It’s trash, I know, but I read it to escape the reality of the heartbreaking stories I often report on the news.

My door is ajar, but someone raps on it nonetheless. “Lishelle?”

“Come in.”

It’s Carmen, one of the production assistants, and she’s grinning from ear to ear. “Rugged is here.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I took him to the green room. Is that where you want to meet him? Linda says she’ll be at least ten minutes. I didn’t want to leave him waiting.”

I glance around. My office looks presentable. “Why don’t you bring him here?”

Carmen disappears, but less than five seconds later, she pops her head back in my door. “Can I ask you something?”

I lower my magazine to my desk, but don’t close it. “Of course.”

“I know this is going to sound silly, but I’m a huge fan of his. I thought he was hot on television, but in person he’s even more attractive. Wait till you see him.”

“What exactly is it you want me to do?”

“Ask him for his autograph for me. Please, pretty please.”

“I don’t get it. You’ve met him. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“Because I’ll die!”

Whatever, I think. But I say, “Sure.”

A few minutes later Carmen reappears with Rugged. Her face is flushed—clearly she’s blushing. I’m completely shocked, since I never figured Carmen the type to listen to rap music, much less be a huge fan of Rugged’s. Hell, I’m not a big fan of rap. I have caught glimpses of Rugged’s videos featuring women in barely there bikinis on late-night TV, and I wasn’t exactly impressed. But for the cause of raising money for charity, I’m happy to embrace the idea of working with him.

“Lishelle, this is Rugged. Obviously.” She grins and nods, her unkempt bangs bobbing with her bouncing head.

My God, what has gotten into her?

“Rugged, this is Lishelle Jennings.”

I close the tabloid and toss it onto my desk. Then I rise from my chair and cross the room with my hand extended. Rugged meets me, takes my hand in his and shakes it.

And surprisingly, when our hands touch, I feel a jolt of heat. Something about Rugged has sparked a sexual reaction in me, one I didn’t expect.

“Hello,” he says.

Swallowing, I pull my hand away. “Hello.”

I don’t miss the way his eyes skim over my body. How can I—the move is so bold.

And makes a sex-starved woman like me think about riding a large, hard cock…

I clear my throat and add, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m a fan.”

“I’ma fan o’ yours, too.”

Behind us, Carmen is standing stupidly, like she’s frozen in place. Of course, she wants an autograph.

“Rugged, would you mind signing an autograph for Carmen? She’s one of your biggest fans.”

Now Carmen’s eyes widen in alarm. Rugged glances over his shoulder at her.

“She’s much too modest to ask you,” I go on. “Isn’t that right, Carmen?”

“Um…well, I didn’t want to bother you.”

“No bother,” Rugged tells her. “You got a piece of paper? Or do you want me to something else—like your shirt?” Rugged’s eyes move to Carmen’s breasts, which look bountiful beneath her thin, cotton T-shirt.

“Um.” Carmen’s response is shaky. “My…my shirt?”

“I’ve got a Sharpie.” I go back to my desk, scoop it up, and pass the black marker to Rugged.

After Rugged signs his scrawling signature on her shirt, Carmen can’t stop saying thank you as she backs her way out the door. When she’s gone, I move to the door and close it.

“So,” I begin without preamble. “You’re interested in helping out with the pledge drive I’m planning.”

“Definitely. When Morgan called to tell me about it, I was excited, man. The city of Atlanta’s my home. And the people here, they been good to me. I wanna give somethin’ back.”

“Please, sit.” I gesture to the leather chair at my desk. As Rugged settles there, I sit in my own chair on the opposite side.

“Have you had any thoughts about how to participate? I’m thinking you could come into the studio, join me on TV as we appeal to people to open up their wallets.”

“That all you want? Yo, I was thinkin’ of doin’ a concert or somethin’.”

I perk up at that. “A concert?”

“Yeah, a summer concert. Maybe Labor Day Weekend, or wheneva you want. I’ll do a concert, and all the proceeds will go to the kids.”

The idea is so brilliant I could kiss this guy. “That’s fucking amazing.” I cover my mouth and mumble, “Excuse my Spanish.”

“And see, what I was thinkin’ was that some of my homies could hold concerts in other parts of the country. Maybe ten, fifteen major cities. One big ‘Give back to da kids’ event. Ya know? We could raise some serious fuckin’ cash.’ Scuse my Spanish.” He grins.

I am so excited by this idea, my heart is beating seriously fast. “You think it will work?”

“I’ma try my hardest to help out. We gonna do this, we do it big.”

“I like the way you think.”

There’s a pause, then Rugged asks, “What else you like?”

The question catches me off guard—but the slight upturn of the rapper’s mouth, plus the way he’s rested his thumb in the loose waistband of his jeans above his crotch, makes it clear I didn’t misunderstand the inflection in his voice.

He’s just propositioned me.

“Excuse me?” I ask. I try to sound appalled, but the truth is, I’m not. In fact, my panties just got wet at Rugged’s words. There’s something about a guy who goes for what he wants that is a huge turn-on.

“I’m a fan, Miss Jennings. I like you. A lot.”

“And how old are you?” I ask, my tone much like that of an adult questioning a child who’s been caught throwing rocks at her window. “Nineteen? Twenty?”

“Twenty-fo’.”

“Oh.” I force a laugh, trying, I guess, to hide my sudden sexual anxiety. “Like that’s old enough.”

“It sho’ is,” Rugged tells me confidently.”

My entire body flushes with carnal heat. My nipples ache and my pussy starts to throb. And I realize that the thought I had, that I wasn’t interested in a meaningless fling with some guy, is a lie. I’m more than interested.

Suddenly, my body needs sex.

I steal a quick glance at Rugged’s crotch, try to judge by the bulge how big his cock is.

I like.

“Old enough fo’ what you need,” Rugged adds, this time drawing his bottom lip between his teeth when he finishes his statement.

“And how do you know what I need?” I ask. My body is attracted to his, but I’m unwilling to let go. I don’t know why.

“I heard about how that guy played you.”

Great. “And you’re offering me what? Your penis as a way to solve all my problems?”

I expect Rugged to be offended by my comment. Instead he says, “If that’s what you want…”

Wow. This guy is really serious.

So I decide to call his bluff. Play with him a little. “What am I supposed to do? Suck it or drop my pants?”

“Whateva gets you off.”

Either could get me off…

The knock on the door has us both sitting up straight. I clear my throat, then say, “Come in.”

Linda opens the door, grinning. She enters the room, her hand outstretched. “Hello, Rugged. It is so great to meet you.”

Rugged shakes her hand. “Same here.”

“I guess I’ll cut right to the chase,” Linda says. “Have you come up with any great ideas?”

“Actually,” I begin slowly. “We’ve come up with an excellent plan. I’m really excited about it.”

I fill Linda in on Rugged’s fantastic suggestion, and by the end of my spiel, she can hardly contain her enthusiasm.

“I love it!” she exclaims. “You think we can make this happen?”

“I’ma try my best. Rap artists are always gettin’ bad press. We do this, it’ll show America we got good hearts, too.”

Rugged glances my way with that statement, like he’s trying to prove a point to me. Does he have a good heart? Or is he willing to ‘give back’ just because that’ll get him good press, and therefore sell him more records? Not that it matters to me. I just want people to support the cause, by whatever means necessary.

I tune out for the next few minutes while Rugged and Linda discuss possibilities, thinking of how he propositioned me and wondering if he was serious. And fuck, I can’t believe how wet I am. How much part of me wanted to lock the door and offer him my pussy. It is still throbbing, so much so that I ache to stroke my clitoris.

I ponder the possibility of fucking Rugged when Linda’s gone, because I’m pretty sure he won’t reject that idea. A quick fuck, or a blowjob—guys don’t say no to an offer like that, even if the woman is a stranger. Why would Rugged?

And that’s exactly the problem. Because Rugged is a star, women probably line up to do that for him now, whereas before they’d have smacked him for daring to be so crude.

I don’t want to be as pathetic as one of his crazed female fans.

He might have me thinking about sex, but I’ll get myself off like I normally do. Or I’ll find someone else to fuck.

I hear Linda say something about Rugged having his manager call her, that they can go over some preliminary details.

“How does that sound, Lishelle?” she asks me.

“Sounds like a plan,” I say, though I haven’t been paying close attention to their chat. I’ve been lost in my thoughts about Rugged.

“All right, then.” Linda shakes Rugged’s hand once more. “We’ll be in touch. I’m really looking forward to this.”

“Me, too,” Rugged concurs.

When Linda disappears, Rugged gets up and closes the door, then turns his hot gaze onto me. One side of his mouth lifts in a grin. “Now, where were we?”

“Finished,” I tell him, and smile sweetly when he looks a bit surprised.

“But I thought—”

“Thought you were gonna get some? You want to impress a grown woman, you have to step to her in a different way.”

“Ah, you’re gonna play hard to get.”

“I’m not playing anything.” I pause, let my rejection sink in. No, I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going to act like one of his groupies. “I hope this isn’t going to affect your willingness to see this fund-raising effort through to its fruition.”

“’Course not,” Rugged tells me, but his voice is clipped.

Oh, he’s not a happy man. Inwardly, I beam. Honestly, did he expect me to drop to my knees just because he’s a star?

“Great,” I tell him, and place my hand on his arm. He throws a quick glance at my hand, then meets my eyes—as though he’s hopeful that my touching him means I’ve changed my mind.

I lead him to the door and waste no time in opening it. “Thank you so much for coming in to meet with me and the station manager,” I tell him, all professional. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.”