Deception (Tamia Luke) (9 page)

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Authors: Naomi Chase

BOOK: Deception (Tamia Luke)
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When he reached the other side of the lobby, Dre grinned slyly at him. “What was
that
about?”
“What?”
“You and your girl Addison, coming downstairs together on a Saturday night.” A suggestive gleam filled Dre’s dark eyes. “Were you up there tappin’ her off?”
Brandon scowled. “Hell, nah. You know I ain’t down with no swirl action.”
Dre chuckled. “Just checking, bruh. Even from a distance, I could see the way she was looking at you, like she wanted you to fuck the shit outta her. And I can’t really say I’d blame you,” he added, casting another glance toward the elevators as if Addison were still there. “Shorty was looking sexy as
hell
tonight.”
Brandon made no comment as they entered the dim interior of Stogie’s.
Boasting mahogany-paneled walls, plush leather upholstery, and a bar stocked with top-shelf liquor, the swanky establishment had the look and feel of a gentlemen’s cigar club—which, technically, it still was. Though membership had been opened to women more than thirty years ago, females rarely ventured into the bastion of masculinity that was Stogie’s. The exception was on Saturday nights, when guys wanting to impress their dates brought them to the upscale restaurant.
After greeting Brandon and asking about his father’s gubernatorial campaign, the maître d’ escorted him and Dre to the circular leather booth Brandon had reserved for the evening. A solicitous waiter appeared with their humidors and took their drink orders—a neat scotch for Brandon and cognac for Dre.
As the waiter moved off, the two friends cut the caps off their vintage cigars and lit up.
“So,” Dre began conversationally, grinning at Brandon across the glossy mahogany table, “how many times has wifey called you tonight?”
Brandon puffed on his cigar, savoring the taste and aroma of the smoke before slowly exhaling through his nose. “What’re you talking about?”
Dre laughed. “Nice try. You know damn well what I’m talking about. How many times has Cynthia called you while she’s been at the shower? And don’t say she hasn’t called, ’cause I know better.”
Brandon shrugged, lounging against the plush leather cushions. “I’ve only heard from her once.”
Dre eyed him knowingly. “Does that count text messages?”
“Man, shut up.”
Again Dre laughed, shaking his smooth bald head. “I knew she couldn’t go an entire night without checking up on you.”
Brandon frowned. “She just wanted to say hello and see how my evening was going. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing.” Dre puffed on his cigar, eyes glinting with amusement behind a veil of smoke. “Remember how we used to tease her about being one of those independent, career-obsessed, don’t-need-a-man sisters?”
Brandon nodded.
“Well, that was
before
you started tapping that ass. Now you got her so wide open, she’d probably forfeit her law degree if you asked her to.”
Brandon was silent as Addison’s words echoed through his mind.
She seems more interested in having lunch with you than scheduling meetings with her clients.
He couldn’t pretend that the remark hadn’t bothered him. When he and Cynthia first began dating, he’d worried that their relationship would interfere with their jobs. But Cynthia had assured him that she could successfully balance the demands of both, and he’d had no reason to doubt her. But now, in light of his conversation with Addison, he had to wonder whether he’d become a distraction to Cynthia. The last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize her chances of making partner after she’d worked so hard to achieve that goal.
The waiter returned with Brandon and Dre’s drinks and asked them if they wanted to wait for the other members of their party before placing their dinner orders.
“Yeah, thanks,” Brandon said, overriding Dre’s protestations of being hungry.
After the waiter departed, Dre downed some cognac before grumbling, “I wish those niggas would learn to show up on time for once.”
Brandon chuckled. “Come on, now. We’ve known Justin and Cornel since high school. Have they
ever
been on time for anything?”
Dre grunted. “Good point.”
Brandon sipped his scotch, then took a lazy drag on his cigar. “So how are things going with Leah?”
“Man.” Dre pushed out a deep, weary breath. “It’s been rough.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
Dre glanced around the restaurant before confiding in a low voice, “Leah’s work schedule is taking a serious toll on our bedroom action.”
Brandon’s lips twitched. “How serious?”
“Let’s just say if I don’t run up in some pussy soon, my dick’s gonna shrivel up and fall the fuck off.”
“Damn, bruh,” Brandon commiserated. “That
is
serious.”
Dre glared at him. “So why the hell are you grinning?”
“My bad.” Brandon covered his mouth, but the laughter escaped anyway.
“You think this shit is funny?”
“Nah,” Brandon rasped, laughing so hard that his words came out in fragments. “Believe me ... I understand what ... you’re going through.”
“Nigga, please,” Dre scoffed. “Don’t patronize me. I know Cynthia be giving up the pussy on the regular. Not only do you two live together, but then you see each other all day at work. I still remember that time she was sitting on your phone while you were tappin’ her off on your desk, and the phone accidentally dialed my number. Man, I coulda
killed
your ass for rubbing your sexcapades in my face like that.”
“Sorry,” Brandon said, using his free hand to wipe tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes. “For the last time, bruh, we didn’t know she was sitting on the phone.”
“That’s even worse, ’cause that means the shit was so good, your girl didn’t even notice a hard object poking her in the ass.”
Brandon grinned wickedly. “The only ‘hard object’ she cared about—”
Dre groaned loudly, holding up his hand. “Don’t say it.
Please
don’t say it. Damn. I walked right into that one.”
Brandon laughed. “You sure did.”
Dre shook his head, scrubbing both hands over his face. “I’m telling you, man. I’m so damn horny I’ve even caught myself checking out Fiona, and you know how I feel about
her
motherfucking ass.”
“Dayuum,” Brandon exclaimed, torn between amusement and incredulity. “You
are
in bad shape.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve lost my damn mind, lusting after an ex-con who also happens to be one of our employees.” Dre scowled at Brandon. “I blame you and your damn brother for hiring her in the first place.”
Brandon grinned, blowing out a thick curl of smoke.
Last year, after resigning from his job at a corporate law firm, Beau Chambers had approached Brandon and Dre about partnering with him to form a sports management agency. He’d envisioned a one-stop-shop facility that would house the contract management offices, a barber shop, and a wellness center that could be overseen by Dre, who had a Ph.D. in sports medicine and worked as an athletic trainer for the Houston Texans.
Brandon and Dre had been so impressed with the scope of Beau’s vision that they’d agreed to pool their financial resources to become his business partners. One year later, Pinnacle Sports Group represented several professional and collegiate athletes, and the wellness center had become so popular that Dre planned to leave the NFL after this season to devote more time to the center’s clients.
Unlike Brandon, who functioned as a silent partner, Dre was very involved in the agency’s daily operations, which included making personnel decisions. When Tamia’s sister, Fiona, lost her booth at the hair salon where she’d worked for years, she’d come to Brandon for help. Remembering the great haircut she’d once given him when his regular barber was out of town, Brandon had called a meeting with Beau and Dre to recommend that they hire Fiona.
Dre had been adamantly opposed to the idea, although his objections had more to do with who her sister was than Fiona’s criminal record. He hadn’t forgiven Tamia for the way she’d betrayed Brandon, so he considered Fiona guilty by association. But Brandon and Beau felt differently, and because they outnumbered Dre, Fiona had been hired.
Dre bitched about their decision every chance he got, but his complaints fell on deaf ears. Fiona was one of the shop’s best barbers, and the clients enjoyed having a beautiful woman around. So she wasn’t going anywhere.
Pointing his cigar at Dre, Brandon warned, “Don’t even think about pushing up on that girl.”
Dre shot him a look of disgust. “Nigga, please. I’m not
that
desperate. Shorty may be fine, but she’s young and hood as hell. And I’m not even sure she’s playing with a full deck,” he added, tapping a finger against his temple.
Brandon grimaced. “She strikes me as more naive than anything else. I mean, yeah, she’s rough around the edges. But she has this childlike innocence about her, you know? It’s like she’s a little girl trapped inside a woman’s body.”
Dre snorted derisively. “Yeah, and you should see the way she flaunts that body in front of the customers.”
Brandon grinned. “I don’t hear anyone else complaining, bruh. So methinks you doth protest too much.”
Dre sucked his teeth. “Whatever.”
Brandon chuckled, sipping his scotch. “Anyway, cut Fiona some slack. She’s been through a lot and she’s trying to turn her life around, so I don’t mind helping her.”
Dre eyed him knowingly. “Like you helped her sister?”
“Sure.”
“So that means you’re gonna hook Fiona up with a luxury apartment, too?”
Brandon went still, staring at his best friend. “What’re you talking about?”
Dre barked out a laugh. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. You’ve got Tamia staying over at One Park Place.”
Shit
, Brandon thought grimly. “How do you know about that?”
“I overheard you and Lou making the arrangements a few weeks ago. And before you accuse me of ear hustling, it wasn’t even like that. Remember the night I met you at your office so we could ride to the Rockets game together?”
Brandon nodded tightly.
“Well, you had me waiting in the reception area for so long that I decided to head back to your office to see what was the holdup. You were on the phone with your back to the door, and that’s when I overheard your conversation with Lou. I didn’t say anything to you ’cause I figured if you wanted me to know about your plans, you would have told me.” Dre frowned, shaking his head at Brandon. “What the hell were you thinking, putting Tamia up in an apartment?”
Brandon shrugged, tapping his cigar ashes into an ashtray. “She needed a new place to stay.”
“And how is that
your
responsibility? Last I checked, bruh, she’s not your wifey anymore.”
“I know that. I just wanted to do her a favor.”
Dre snorted. “You already
did
her a favor. You got her ass out of prison, which is probably more than she deserved. But that’s another topic for another day.”
Brandon scowled. “Yeah, please don’t start, ’cause I’m not trying to hear that shit tonight.”
“Of course you don’t wanna hear it,” Dre retorted. “You’ve got blinders on when it comes to Tamia. And I see you like living dangerously, too. Do you have any idea how Cynthia will react if she finds out that you dropped over a hundred grand on rent and furniture for your ex-girlfriend’s love nest?”
Brandon’s temper flared. “Damn, nigga, why the hell are you all up in my wallet? Are you my accountant or something? I’m a grown-ass man, so I can spend my money however the fuck I want.”
The two friends glowered at each other across the table.
“If it’s really like that,” Dre challenged, “then why all the secrecy? Why not tell Tamia that
you’re
the one paying for the apartment?”
“Because it’s not important,” Brandon growled. “If I told her, she’d feel like she owes me. And she doesn’t. I don’t want anything from her.”
Dre regarded him skeptically. “You don’t want anything from her.”
“That’s what I said.”
“So you didn’t get her the apartment because you still love her and you wanna take care of her? And you’re not planning to go over there and fuck her the first chance you get?”
Brandon took a long pull on his cigar, then blew out a stream of smoke on the word, “Nope.”
Dre scoffed. “Come on, B. This is
me
you’re talking to, remember? I’ve known you since we were eleven years old. So you can sit there all you want and tell yourself whatever makes you feel better. But don’t expect me to believe a word you’re saying, ’cause I know it’s pure bullshit.”
Clenching his jaw, Brandon glanced toward the entrance to the restaurant. He’d never been more relieved to see that Justin and Cornel had arrived. Maybe now Dre would shut the fuck up.

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