Authors: De'nesha Diamond

King Divas (23 page)

BOOK: King Divas

2.06Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

Cleo

“W
ow, Cleo. You look like a princess,” Kay, my seven-year-old cousin, coos, looking up at me.

“Thank you, baby.” I slowly spin around in the gold-beaded Givenchy dress that Diesel Carver had delivered to my house, feeling every bit like a fairy-tale princess. I can't get over how beautiful this dress is. He must've spent a fortune. I never heard of a man sending a woman such an expensive dress to wear for a first date. At least not in real life. I might've seen it in a movie or something.

Kay watches me with big, moon-sized eyes. “I wish that I had a dress like that.”

I smile. “Maybe one day you will.”

My youngest brother, Freddy, knocks and then whistles low. “Now that's a damn dress.” He crosses his arms and looks at me suspiciously. “Who is this nigga you're going out with anyway?”

“None of your business,” I tell his nosy butt before reaching for the matching clutch bag.

“The hell it ain't my business. Random muthafuckas need to go through me or Kobe around here. We need to make it clear to this knucklehead that if something happens to you there will be problems and complications to the nigga's breathing habits. You feel me?”

He's serious. We all feel that we dropped the ball when we lost Essence. As large and as close as our family has always been, we should've kept a better eye on her. Her last prom was when everything changed. Her best friend, Ta'Shara, had been beaten, raped, and then transferred into a mental hospital. Essence moped around the house and then was suddenly doing favors for that evil bitch LeShelle.

One day, she'll get what's coming to her.
I just hope that I'll be around to see it.

“So?” Freddy probes. “Who is he?”

Sighing, I give up the details. “Diesel Carver.”

“Say what?” He cups his ear like he's suddenly hard of hearing. “I know I didn't hear that shit right.”

“Freddyâ”

“KOBE!”

Aww, damn. It's about to be an emergency family meeting.
“Freddy, don't start flipping out.”

“Don't startâDo you know who that nigga isâ
besides
Python's cousin? That muthafucka runs the whole fuckin' show down in Atlanta. That nigga ain't nobody to be messin' with.Why in the hell are you going out with him?”

“Yo. What's up?” Kobe asks, appearing at my doorway still holding his Xbox controller.

Freddy turns toward him. “Do you know who the hell she's going out with?”

“Nah. I just know that she's been with that stalker Kalief. Why? Who is it?”

“Diesel Carver.”

The color instantly drains out of Kobe's face. “What? Are you fuckin' crazy? Since when do you date niggas in the game?”

“In the game? The muthafucka writes all the rules and regulations in Georgia. Everybody is waiting and peeping on that gangster's next move. We all know we're eating off his connects from the A while boss-man is underground.”

“Calm down, Freddy. It's not what you think. Kalief says it's just a business dinnerâfor my career. He's supposed to have a lot of connects in the industry.” I repeat Kalief's line.

“Kalief put you up to this?” Freddy asks, plunging from stun to shock. “Is he going with you?”

The doorbell rings.

He's here.
My heart leaps into my throat. “I gotta go.” I squeeze past them, clogging my doorway.

“I don't like this,” Freddy says like I didn't pick up on that.

“Don't start. I don't tell you boys who you can go out with. Do me the same courtesy.” I smile at Grandma, napping in her favorite La-Z-Boy, as I head to the front door. However, when I open it, I'm greeted with another surprise: a limousine driver, dressed head-to-toe in black, holding a single rose.

“Ms. Blackmon?” he asks.

“Yes?” I glance over his shoulder at the Mercedes-Benz limousine parked out front. Not only that, but a mob thirty to forty deep is already milling around it.

The driver smiles and tips his black cap at me. “Good evening. I'm Miles and I'll be your driver this evening. Mr. Carver would like for you to have this.” He hands me the rose.

“Thank you.” I blush.

“Are you ready, ma'am?”

“Whoa. Hold up.” Freddy grabs me by my shoulder. “Where that nigga at? He can't come to the door like a fuckin' gentleman? Tell that nigga to get out of the car and introduce himself.”

“I'm sorry, but Mr. Carver is not in the vehicle. He is waiting at your next destination.”

“My next destination?” My hackles rise up. “Where is that?”

“I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm not at liberty to say. I believe Mr. Carver would like for it to be a surprise.”

Kobe sucks his teeth. “Oh. This nigga is doing the most.”

Miles offers me his arm. “My lady?”

My curiosity is piqued; I suck in a breath and step out on faith.

As we head to the limo and the nosy crowd, Freddy shouts, “You got your cell phone, right?”

I wave at him over my shoulder.

“I'm gonna call and check up on you. Make sure you answer your damn phone.”

Miles opens my door.

“I MEAN IT, CLEO! YOU PICK UP!”

I slide into the backseat, marveling at how the leather feels like butter.

The driver shuts my door and then rushes to the driver's seat. I can only guess that everyone knows whose car this is. It's the only way to explain how he's able to cruise over into Gangster Disciple territory.

“I'll have you to your destination in a jiffy,” Miles says. “If you'd like something to drink, there's a full bar there in front of you. You also have control of your air and satellite music stations.”

I glance around, noting the ride was only missing a kitchen sink. “I'm good,” I tell him.

“Very well, ma'am.” He hits a button and the blackened partition slides up.

As we ride out of the neighborhood, I fidget around, trying to prepare myself for anything. But I've never imagined myself being in this position, so it's hard.

Twenty minutes later, we're pulling into General DeWitt Spain Airport off Whitney Avenue and North Second Street. “Why in the hell are we at the airport?” The butterflies in my stomach transform into hopping bullfrogs.
What in the hell have I let Kalief talk me into now?

The limo rolls to a stop and I give myself a pep talk while waiting for Miles to open my door.

“Ms. Blackmon.” He offers me his hand to assist me out.

When I stand, I stare up at a magnificent private Learjet that screams money. “I don't fucking believe this shit.”

Diesel steps out the door of the jet, dressed to the nines in all white. He looks as if he just stepped off the pages of
GQ
magazine. My weak knees knock as he descends.

What the hell is wrong with you? Pull it together.

That shit is easier said than done. When I met Diesel at his club, I peeped that he was a good-looking dude, but light-skinned niggas never did a damn thing for me. But stripped from his muscled thugs and thot girlfriends, I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't feeling some type of way right now.

“Evening,” he says, drinking me in. “That dress looks more beautiful on you than I imagined it would.”

“Thanks . . . but, uh. Aren't you kind of pouring it on a little thick?”

“What do you mean?”

I laugh at his fake humbleness. “The dress, the limo . . . the plane.”

“Surely you didn't think that I was just going to scoop you in a hoopty and swing you through a Taco Bell drive-thru like maybe your boy Kalief does, did you?”

My defenses shoot to high alert. “Don't presume to know me or my relationship with Kalief. I'm only here as a favor to him.”

Diesel lifts one brow. “If you were my woman I'd kill a man for even suggesting you go out on a date with him.”

His words are a cold slap for which I have no response. Anything I say will just justify my man pimping me to erase his debt.

“I'm sorry,” Diesel says. “That was rude of me. I'm certainly grateful that you
are
here with me.” He offers me his arm as well as a perfect Colgate smile. “Shall we?”

This is it.
I glance at him and then the plane before taking a deep breath and sliding my hand into his. A night with the devil.

Cleo

D
iesel keeps our destination a secret. However, thirty minutes later, I recognize the Atlanta skyline when I see it. He keeps the conversation light by peppering me with questions about my life and family. I do a fair job of keeping my defenses up, but by my third glass of champagne, my tongue loosens.

Before I know it, I'm telling him all about my sister, Essence. How she died, what she was like, and how much I miss her. Before I know it, I'm all in my feelings and the seeds of revenge start to sprout in my heart.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” he says. His face softens with compassion. “I know what it's like to lose people close to you.”

“Oh?”

He nods and drops his gaze. “I came into this world losing the very person who gave me life. Before that, shortly after I was conceived, I lost my father in a hail of bullets from the Atlanta police.” He sighs. “After that I was sent to live with my father's legal wife. You can imagine the tension of her having to raise her husband's bastard from a streetwalker.”

Damn.

“Still. She was the only mother I really knew, and I came to love her and my stepbrother and sister. But tragedy struck again and they died in a fluke house fire. I was the sole survivor.”

As he tells the story, I note that while he's making all the customary gesturesâdropping his eyes, lowering his voiceâthere's real emotion on his face.

I set my champagne down. “That's horrible,” I say, since he's waiting for a response.

He sighs and flashes me the weirdest smile. “Well. What can you do?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

We fall into an uncomfortable silence before he shifts into an awkward transition. “You really do look beautiful tonight. But . . . I think that you're missing one thing.”

“Oh?” I look down at my dress.

Diesel produces a square red velvet box. It can't possibly be another gift. “For you.”

“I don't thinkâ”

“C'mon.” His smile stretches wider. “The minute I saw it, I thought of you.”

I stare at himâand then at the box.

“C'mon . . . You know that you want to take a peek.”

He's right. Drawing a deep breath, I reach for the gift. When I pop it open, I gasp.

“I'm a man who loves to spoil beautiful women.”

I can hardly breathe as I stare at the diamond and platinum necklace. “This must have cost a fortune.”

“You like it?”

“It's gorgeous.” In fact I've never held anything so beautiful.

Diesel stands from his seat just when the pilot announces that we're on our final approach for landing. “Let me help you put it on.”

Nervously, I climb to my feet.

“Turn around.”

I follow his instructions. My breath thins when he moves up behind me into my personal space. I keep it together while he places the expensive piece around my neck. When his fingers brush against the back of my neck, my knees start knocking.

“There. Turn and let me see,” he says.

Slowly, I twirl around with my best princess grin. But he doesn't step back and the space between us is a mere few inches. I can feel his warm breath caress my face. Though this man in
every
way is not my type, he is kind of leaving me breathless.

“Beautiful,” he praises.

My nervous gaze melts into his and for the first time, his cool green eyes hypnotize me. Before I can blink, his lips are on mine and I'm drunk off his very taste. It starts off soft and sweet, but then a hunger takes over both of us.

The plane's wheels touch down and we're jolted off of our feet and fall onto the floor.

Diesel laughs. “Are you okay?”

Stunned and embarrassed, I glance around. “Yeah. I think so.”

We look at each other again and then collapse in a fit of laughter. The ice is officially broken. We're unable to pull ourselves off the floor until the plane rolls to a stop.

Minutes later, we're whisked away in another limo to the Philips Arena and are ushered through the back door to a Prince concert. Shocked as shit, I completely lose my mind. For nearly three hours, His Purple Highness plays all his greatest hits. After the show, I get to meet the Artist as well as his latest band.

Diesel stands back and lets me enjoy the moment. When we return to the limo, I recap every detail, every set, and every song while he just smiles from ear to ear.

“How did you know that he is my favorite?”

“Oh. A little birdie told me,” he says nonchalantly.

Kalief.
My excitement takes a nosedive as I remember why I'm really here.
He paid for me.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No. I'm good,” I lie and then start to sulk.

The next stop is to
Diesel's
, a sophisticated modern steakhouse in the heart of Buckhead.

“You own a restaurant too?”

“I
own
many things,” he says, grinning.

That uncomfortable feeling starts to twist in my gut.

“Ah, Mr. Carver, we've been waiting for you,” a toothy hostess says as we enter the restaurant.

I stare at her because she looks more like a runway model than a hostess. When I glance around the packed house, I note that all the waitresses are gorgeous. A trickle of insecurity has me propping up my shoulders and lifting my head a tad bit higher as I fall in line behind the hostess.

Along the way, familiar faces crop up around me. I slowly start to realize that half the Atlanta music industry and a few reality television stars are in the house. And more impressively, a number of them stand up to speak with Diesel.

I'm awed by Diesel's sudden transformation, as he becomes a networking god. Within seconds, I'm shaking hands and being introduced as his next up-and-coming star. Once I get over being tongue-tied and starstruck, I'm flabbergasted when one after another expresses some interest in me.

By the time we make it to the private room he has reserved for us, I've convinced myself that somehow this is all just a dream.

“I hope you're hungry,” he says. “Because I'm starving.”

The hostess hands us our menus.

I can't stop staring at him. Kalief and the streets weren't lying about this man. He really is a man with solid power within the industry. Emotions war within in me while he places our wine order.

“Now what's wrong?”

“Nothing. I'm just . . . surprised. That's all.” I fidget in my seat.

“Relax,” he tells me. “Enjoy yourself.”

“I don't know what to make of you.”

He chuckles. “That's not the first time I've heard that.”

“Why did you bribe me to come on this date?”

“Bribe?”

“Agree to wipe out Kalief's debt if I went out with you tonight.”

Diesel doesn't hedge from the issue. “Because you would've never agreed otherwise.”

True.

The waitress returns and presents the wine bottle to Diesel. I watch him as he goes through the whole routine of inspecting the label, swirling the sample, sniffing and then finally tasting the wine. After giving the waitress the approval head nod, he returns his attention to me.

“Let's get past the
how
I got you here and focus on the
why
.”

“Okay. Why?”

“Two reasons,” he says nonchalantly. “One: I'm extremely attracted to you.”

I tell myself not to blush, but I'm not sure that it's working.

“And two: I want to make all your dreams come true.” His tone is no-nonsense. “Does any of that interest you?”

“Yes,” I answer him with equal honesty.

His smile spreads. “Well. We're finally getting somewhere.” He holds up his wine glass. “Let's toast to that.”

I hold up my glass.

“To new beginnings,” he says.

“To new beginnings.”

BOOK: King Divas

2.06Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub