Page 31 of Kisses Behind the Spotlight

I gasped aloud. My father sounded so nonchalant about the situation, and the fact that he believed the lies rubbed salt in the gaping wound. “I didn’t have anything going on with D3! He’s a fucking liar!”

“Jameera, he has a picture of you in his hotel room. Y’all look very…”

“UHHHHH! Don’t ever call me again!” I grumbled and hung up in my father’s face. If that was all my father had to say about that situation, he could go to the deepest pits of hell.

“Come on, Jameera. Let’s go back inside,” Amill coaxed, wrapping her arm around my shoulder.

“No,” I brushed her off. “I need to be alone right now!”

“No, I’m not letting you leave in your condition,” Amill hopped in front of me and wrapped me up in her arms. “Fuck, Q! You’re going to be good regardless. When he comes back groveling, make him kiss your ass real good before you forgive him.”

I laid my head on her shoulder and expelled all of my feelings in the middle of the hallway while she held me tight. Throughout the duration of my relationship with Q, we’d never gotten into it like that. He’d never talked to me that way. I was always given princess treatment, and I didn’t know how to handle whatever the hell just happened.

CHAPTER NINE

Xain

After cleaning the kitchen for Khaleesi, I had all intentions of leaving her crib. Listening to Vincent was always dumb, but his suggestion to lock myself in her crib and make her take care of me was some unhinged shit. Yet, I did it.

Now that I wanted to leave, I regretted this shit. We were both stuck in there. I was no longer in control. My phone wasn’t working either, so I couldn’t tell Tech to fix the door.

I wanted to be far away from Khaleesi. Her touch felt intoxicating, and I despised how much I wanted to feel more. I was beyond thankful that Khaleesi was in the room taking a nap. That gave me time to get my mind and dick on the same page.

About an hour into Khaleesi’s nap, my phone started vibrating back to back with notifications for missed calls and text messages. Simultaneously, Khaleesi’s phone was in her bedroom, ringing off the hinges too. Before checking a single notification, I stood from the couch and went to see if the door would unlock. As I approached the door, I heard the smart lock beeping and talking. I couldn’t make out what it said, but I tested unlocking the door, and it worked.

So why did I go sit back on the couch instead of leaving to get a hotel as I’d planned? I couldn’t tell you. Her girly-ass living room furniture was uncomfortable as fuck. Shit was definitely for decoration, not comfort. Plus, I couldn’t blast Sports Center without waking Khaleesi up. Shaking my head, I admitted that I stayed because I didn’t want to leave without seeing the version of Khaleesi who didn’t hate my guts one last time.

Khaleesi came tumbling out of that bedroom a minute later, and I thought the jig was up, but she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, then went back into the guest bedroom without a word. Her eyes were barely open, and she emitted a loud, mouth-wide-open yawn. Her ass was going right back to sleep.

I took a few minutes to go through my notifications to see why my phone was blowing up. Tech was the last person to call and text, so I called him back first.

“Hello.”

“Wassup.”

“Do you know where Q is?”

“Nigga, how the fuck I’m supposed to know? You ain’t slick. I know you put that shit on my phone too. Both of our phones, and the smart lock magically turned back on at the same time.”

“Take that up with Q. He said y’all needed some get-along time,” Tech confessed.

“Alright nigga. That favor I owed you is null and void,” I advised him.

“Fuck you, nigga,” he chuckled. “But real shit, do you know where Q would run to if he was pissed? Some shit popped off, and Q disappeared. Turned his phone off and stopped sharing his location with everybody.”

“Nah, why? What happened?”

“Some nigga out here claiming he fucking Jameera.”

“Say you swear,” I leaned up on the hard-ass couch cushion.

“Swear. It’s all over the blogs. He released a diss track with a picture,” Tech explained.

“Not Ms. Recycle-Or-I’ll-Gnaw-Your-Fuckin’-Head-Off cheating on my boy.”

I put my phone on speaker to get on social media to see for myself. The picture definitely looked incriminating, but I was willing to play devil’s advocate. Examining the pictures, I noticed a custom garment bag on the couch, and you couldn’t see Jameera’s face well enough to make out an expression. Listening to the song, I could tell somebody was talking to the nigga, but was it Jameera? I didn’t know.

“Shit, this Q calling me right now. Let me click over,” I explained, not giving Tech time to respond.