She bumped my shoulder. “It’s okay. You’ve paid me back in lots of clothes since then.”
“And shoes,” I added.
I let out a huge sigh. “I have to get myself together.”
Blake stood. “I’ll leave you to it. But when you come out this room, you’d better be ready to party. We’ll tackle Kimball and the hot mess he created later.”
After she left, I sat with my thoughts for a moment. The anger subsided a little and I jotted down a list of things to do first thing on Monday, starting with a plan of action and ending with a conversation with Maya. It was time to take control and fix my life.
Chapter Two
All Falls Down
Preston
Ending the day with full lips wrapped around my dick was just what the doctor ordered. The only problem was I couldn’t concentrate on my nut, because my phone wouldn’t stop ringing. I set my phone down next to me, rested the back of my head on the couch, and tried to get my head back in the game.
“Baby, are you okay?”
Baby? I glanced down at the beautiful woman, perched on her knees in front of me. Tabatha was her name. I couldn’t remember her last name, though. Byrd…no, Burks. I ran my fingers through her hair. “I’m fine. Just work.”
The call from my construction manager earlier in the day had set me off. Instead of finishing up an important project, we’d had to extend our timeline several months because of material shortages and flooding due to a week of severe weather. As if the day couldn’t get any worse, one of our clients lost their funding on a future project, and the City of Detroit hadn’t approved the contract for the new affordable condominium community. Since then, things had steadily declined and would probably be worse tomorrow.
“Well—” she leaned up and kissed me softly, “—maybe I can help? I’m a good listener.”
She was sweet. Really. We’d met a week ago at the casino. After we’d played Blackjack, I’d taken her fine ass to the hotel. So, when she’d called and asked me to meet her at Greektown tonight, I’d assumed it’d be more of the same. Not sure how we’d graduated to terms of endearment. And talking about my life, my business?Not gonna happen.
“Preston?” she called, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Want to talk about it?”
Tabatha had said the magic word again.Talk. Still bothered by how comfortable she was and howuncomfortableI felt, I stared at her. For the first time since I’d arrived at her place, I wondered why I was there. She wasn’t my first random hookup, but real talk…I’d grown tired of the same ol’ shit. Different woman, different day. Fuck now, question everything later. I’d done my fair share of that in my twenties and now that I was pushing on forty’s door, that behavior wasn’t as satisfying as it once was. My life was about business, building my empire, making moves. Not this.
“Or I could always keep your mind off work?” she suggested with a wink, squeezing my dick.
My phone buzzed, breaking through the do-not-disturb setting, which more than likely meant something was wrong. Before I could pick it up, the phone vibrated again.Shit. I snatched the device and fired off a quickGive me a minutetext.
“Are you okay?” she asked again.
I flashed a quick smile before I stood, pulled my boxers and my jeans up, and picked up my phone. “Not really.” I scowled at the message I’d received. “I should probably get outta here, though.”
The soft, concerned look in her eyes transformed to an annoyed and angry glare. “Hell nah,” she shouted, standing to her feet and kicking a throw pillow. “What you not gone do is come in my house, let me suck your dick, and—”
“You didn’t suck my dick,” I clarified.
She rolled her eyes and flipped me off. “Whatever, muthafucka. You’re not going to bounce on me like this. I don’t know who the fuck you think I am.”
I stepped back, surprised by the outburst. Up until now, Tabatha had portrayed herself as a mild-mannered good girl. Granted, I hadn’t known her long, but she’d made it a point to tell me that first night that she didn’t “do this often,” which had given me pause because it’d seemed a little disingenuous. Especially sinceshewas the one who’d asked to come back tomyplace. She’d also mentioned she didn’t cuss because of her dead grandmother. And, supposedly, she abhorred violence. In less than a minute, she’d proven she was full of shit. Which made my decision to walk out the best one and reaffirmed I should always follow my instincts.
Tabatha snapped her fingers in my face. “Hey, you. Did you hear what I said?”
I let out a slow, deep breath and walked to the door. She followed me, calling me every type of punk, asshole, and muthafucka in the book. “Have a good night.”
“This is some bullshit,” she growled. “I told my homegirl you wasn’t shit.”
Turning to her, I shrugged. “In that case, it’s a good thing I’m leaving. Right?”
“Straight up? Lose my fuckin’ number.”
On a normal day, I considered myself to be a patient man. But she’d definitely tried my patience today. To avoid saying something I’d regret—because I wasn’t really an asshole—I opened the door. “Done.”
