Page 58 of Kisses Behind The Spotlight 2: Finale

“Where are you going?” Khaleesi scowled.

“I’m going to be in the office working. I have to finalize a lot of shit before I go to bed tonight. Get your rest.”

“Okay,” she nodded.

I pulled my dick out of her, and we went upstairs to shower. After tucking my brat into bed and making sure her thirsty ass had a bottle of water, I retreated to my office. I’d been given my deadline for all that shit a month prior and still didn’t have it together. The more I chipped away at the list, the more last-minute shit popped up.

With no time to waste, I plopped down in my chair and got to it. I got most of the tasks done, and for what I couldn’t handle, I delegated to Duke, Stepp, and Vincent.

Around five o’clock that morning, I slipped into bed with Khaleesi and held her close while she slept. I sniffed her hair, kissed her neck, and rubbed her booty, trying to etch that feeling in my brain.

At eight o’clock that morning, I got out of bed to get dressed. I never fell asleep, and the adrenaline pumping made me feel like I didn’t need sleep. Swallowing hard, I gently kissed Khaleesi’s lips, then went into my office to change into the slacks and button-up I’d left hanging there.

Once I was dressed, I pulled the letter from my desk drawer and read it one last time to make sure I didn’t want to add anything. I confirmed the letter was perfect, went back into the bedroom, and laid it on the pillow next to her.

Khaleesi,

I know you’re going to be livid when you get the news, and that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. I’m about to go sit down for 60 days. I wasn’t getting off on my charges, and you didn’t need to be on probation or in a diversion program when I was going to have to sit down regardless.

I ain’t never been scared of shit, but I’m scared to make you cry. Seeing you cry might’ve changed my mind, because the weakness I got for you is strong, but that’s not what’s best for me. 60 days is going to fly by. It won’t be shit for me. I chose 60 days over 18 months probation. I’m not about to sit on papers and give these crackas a reason to fuck with me.

You’ll be so busy on tour that you probably won’t even miss me for real. As soon as Duke agreed to run the security business and Stepp agreed to run the restaurant, I took the plea deal. Don’t be mad at them. I love you. I’ll be home soon.

-Xain

I pecked Khaleesi’s lips a third time and looked at my phone. Duke’s truck pulled into my driveway, setting off the motion sensors. I disarmed the alarm and rushed out of the house, then rearmed it from my phone. My Stacy Adams tapped the pavement with every step, and the shit sounded like thunder while I tried to be stealthy.

“Why the fuck you running, nigga?” Vincent questioned when I slid into the backseat next to him.

“I’m a coward. I couldn’t tell Khaleesi. Now drive!” I sputtered, gently closing the door.

“You a stupid motha fucka. You know that, right?”

“I know.” I placed my hand on my forehead as Duke backed out of the driveway. There was no movement upstairs, and I watched the door until it disappeared to make sure Khaleesi didn’t come outside looking for me. Mission accomplished.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Khaleesi

51 Days Later

You ever entered your softer era with the man you could finally see yourself with, only to have it snatched away suddenly? Well, that’s exactly what happened to me, and I hated everything and everybody. Twenty-six cities, thirty dates, and I was glad that was the last show.

I said “softer era” instead of “soft girl,” because I probably could never truly be that. The rage I went into after waking up and reading that letter showed me that. I didn’t give a fuck that my rent was paid up for the rest of my lease, a fat ass deposit was in my account, and he even added Noah as an authorized user to one of his credit cards and gave him access to $800 a month. All Noah had before Xain stuck his stupid face in our lives was a Cash App card connected to Apple Pay. None of that mattered to me when I threw a mini tantrum and snatched his bedroom TV off the wall. Legend has it, the 60-inch was still in pieces on his bedroom floor. I couldn’t say for sure because I hadn’t been over there. The niggas that he confided in could take care of his house.

Of course I’d talked to Xain since he turned himself in, but that didn’t lessen the blow. It took him at least two weeks to call. By then the tears stopped, and I was just indignant. I cursed Xain out and hung up on him. Flowers arrived at the front desk for a week, then I finally caved and answered. Xain whispered a little sweet nothings, promised to make it up to me, and I got over myself.

Xain usually called me at the same time every day, but two o’clock rolled around, and he still hadn’t called. It was pushing eight o’clock, and I started to get worried, but when I called Vincent to see if he talked to Xain, he sarcastically told me, “Khaleesi, the boy is in county jail, not the penitentiary. He will be fine.”

The only reason I didn’t return the energy was that the entire family would be at the Miami show, including Vincent’s rude ass.

Speaking of the devil, a text from Auntie Anila came through; they were headed to the suite. I plastered a forced smile on my face and met them there.

“‘Sup, Khaleesi, did you hang up on me earlier?” Vincent inquired.

“You were being rude,” I snipped.

“You heard from him?”