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Chapter 8
Jeb
I woke up this morning feeling like complete shit. Tameka was gone to Kemara’s doctor’s appointment, and my mind was still reeling over not telling her about Rochelle’s presence in the club over the next few weeks. I saw the hurt in her eyes when I told her I didn’t need her help. And the talk about babies seemed to strike a chord with her too. Of course, I wanted us to have children, but I wanted to get everything settled with this deal first. I especially couldn’t think about our future children as long as Rochelle was lurking in the shadows.
For the first time ever, I wasn’t excited to go into the club knowing she would be there. I didn’t need this added drama in my life, but I’d be damned if I let someone like Rochelle come in between me making my dream come true.
I pulled into the empty parking lot with a lot less enthusiasm for the day. I unhurriedly found it in me to pull myself out of the car and made my way across the lot and into the club doors. Rochelle was already there with a couple of staff members going through pre-business prep. My mood was flat as I said a dry “hello” to everyone and walked to the hallway leading to my office.
“Eventful night?” she asked as she glided past me and into the bar area to pour her a glass of Henney.
“A tad bit early to be drinking, don’t you think?” I shot back.
Rochelle took a sip of the brown liquid and sighed. “It’s never too early for a drink.”
“Well, make sure you write it down on your tab,” I told her then progressed past the bar, not taking the time to chit-chat. I went into my office after hearing her gasp and make a comment about her not having a tab.
I probed my messy desk looking for my keys, so I could lock my office door behind me. I spotted them underneath a few pieces of unopened mail as I heard Rochelle walk in. She shut the door behind her and turned the lock.
“Open my door, and get the fuck out,” I declared sternly.
Being the trifling person that Rochelle was, she ignored me and promenaded towards my desk like she was auditioning for the number one spot at a strip club.
“Don’t be so rude, Jeb. I’m just here to make sure this new partnership between you and Trey gets off to a great start,” she said as she used her arm to slide my stapler, tape dispenser, and file holder over to one side, so she could plant her newly voluptuous ass on my desk.
“I don’t need you for anything, Rochelle. The deal will go through with or without you,” I said with confidence.
“Oh, but are you sure of that?” she questioned with a raised brow. “Trey’s a powerful man, but for the past year I’ve earned his trust, so my word goes a long way.”
“Does he know I used to fuck you?” I asked, testing her theory of Trey’s trust.
“No, and he doesn’t need to know that. Bringing it up at this point will make the deal sour for everyone involved.”
“You’re not as smart as you think you are, Rochelle. Do you think a man like Trey would ask you to work beside me to check out the innerworkings of this club without knowing that we used to be together? Or, better yet, do you think he won’t notice you drooling over me every time you look at me?”
For the first time ever, Rochelle looked sincerely stumped. “He doesn’t know,” she said as more of a reassurance to herself.
“I’m only allowing you to be here because Trey wants you here. But I suggest you walk a fine line and keep it professional,” I said. “I’m getting married in a few months, and my fiancée comes here a lot. Plus, I don’t need any fucking problems with Trey Cox. Do you understand that?”
“So you’re really marrying that black girl? I thought people were lying when I heard about you dating her,” she said with a look of disgust on her face.
“It’s no lie. I’m happy to make a woman who knows how to keep other men out of her panties my wife,” I said.
Rochelle slid down off my desk with a scowl on her face. “I guess it’s simply business then,” she said. “Thursday nights are soul nights featuring the singer Alise, correct?” she asked.
“That’s correct,” I said and waited for her to promenade out of my office with the same energy she walked in with. Instead, she stood there looking at me as if she were hoping for our conversation to take a different turn.
Rochelle’s presence at the club was tap dancing on my last nerve, but Trey wanted her here so he could get a better insight of how we operated. She was trouble, major trouble, and I wanted to avoid her until the end of the week.
“Come on, Jeb. You don’t miss me, even a little?” she asked, looking at me with the intense glare that used to turn my world upside down. “I missed you like hell,” she said, and her voice cracked exposing that she might’ve been being honest for once.
“No, I didn’t miss you. Not even a little,” I said firmly as I headed for the door to see her out.
She walked behind me, but when she reached the door, she touched my chin and tried to pull my face to hers like she used to do when I loved her. For the slightest bit of a moment, I went back to a place where Rochelle was the lady of my life. A wave of sadness hit me as I remembered both where I thought we would be now and her betrayal.
She held my chin in her hand looking at me with the sincerest look I’d ever seen from her. I could feel her breath and smell the Hennessey she was sipping earlier. I watched her watch me as I tried to figure out the reason I hadn’t moved from that spot since she touched me.
“Leave, Rochelle!” I said finally. “And I mean leave the building, and don’t come back! I’ll call Trey—”
