Material Girl (18 page)

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Authors: Keisha Ervin

BOOK: Material Girl
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“Whateva. Like, don’t you get tired of hating? Like, do haters ever take a day off? There got to be a holiday or vacation time for y’all muthafuckas,” she teased, taking a sip of champagne.
“I’m not gon’ even entertain your nonsense with a response. ’Cause see, I’ve been practicing Buddhism, and Gandhi says that peace begins within, so the new calm me is going to continue to focus on peace, whereas the old me woulda bust yo’ ass for tryin’ to play me.”
“You know I love you. Give me love.” She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tight.
“Yeah . . . whateva. So, have you talked to my auntie?”
“No.” Dylan looked at him. “What, have you?”
“Yeah. She called me a couple of days ago.” Tee-Tee picked up a sheer blouse.
“To say what, that she got my money?”
“No. She actually asked if she could borrow a thousand dollars.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Dylan said, stunned.
“Nope.”
“What the hell she do with the fifty grand she stole from me? Smoke it?”
“She said that once she gave the man her half of the investment for what’s it called?” Tee-Tee twisted his lips to the side. “Suck a dick, eat it good—I don’t know . . . that he got ghost and she never heard from him again.”
“Well, isn’t that surprising. That’s what her ass gets.”
“She also wanted me to tell you that the only reason she took the money is because she really thought that this time she would be able to pay you back. To me, it seems like she just wanted you to be proud of her for once,” he reasoned.
“She can’t make me proud of her by stealing from me, and frankly, you stupid for even listening to her ass. As soon as she called you should’ve hung up,” Dylan said coldly.
“See, now I’ma have to cut ya, ’cause you done fucked around and let the new peaceful me fool ya. Just ’cause you fuckin’ a boxer don’t mean that I won’t jab yo’ frail ass in the throat. Now, try me, bitch. Try me,” he warned with his fist in the air, ready to strike.
“Why you gotta be so violent?” Dylan ducked.
As Tee-Tee fingered through a stack of shirts, Dylan quietly debated on whether or not to tell him about State. Dylan trusted her cousin, but she knew that there was some things you just can’t tell people without it coming back to haunt you.
“Seriously, though, I got something I want to tell you, and it cannot get back to Billie.”
“Cross my heart, swear to God,” Tee-Tee pledged.
“State called me the other day.”
“Shut the—” He inhaled deeply. “What the fuck he say?”
“That he misses me and he can’t stop thinkin’ about me.”
“Now, like you told me, I hope you gave that niggah yo’ ass to kiss and hung up on him,” Tee-Tee shot.
“Of course.”
“Okay, but please don’t feed into the bullshit.”
“I’m not,” she protested.
“I’m just sayin’, every time he do something wrong, he always finds a way back in. Don’t let it happen this time, Dylan.”
“Tee,” she said as she stared him square in the eyes, “I am not thinkin’ about State. Angel has my heart, and ain’t nothing gon’ change that.”
“A’ight now, we’ll see.”
“I still really, really love you.”
—Sade, “Love Is Stronger than Pride”
 
Chapter 17
 
“
And if I can’t have yo’ body . . . I don’t want to have nobody.
” Dylan sang along with Trey Songz while lathering soap onto her arm. The scene for a romantic rendezvous for two was set, except she was all alone. Vanilla candles lit the room. Thousands of big, fluffy white bubbles popped against her skin. Steam rose from the water, and a glass of champagne was in reach. All Dylan needed was Angel to complete the fantasy, but it was cool. The next day, she would be hopping on a plane to see him.
Dylan couldn’t wait. Every time she saw him was like Valentine’s Day, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve wrapped in one. Plus, it had been three weeks since she last saw him. She needed his companionship, being that the only form of attention besides kissing and hugging was all she could get from him. The no sex rule while training was killing her. To be around Angel while he sparred did nothing but make her want to jump on his dick and ride it until the roosters crowed and the sun came up.
Ummmmmm,
she thought. And the primal noises he made when hitting the bag caused juices of all different flavors to run down her thigh.
Turned on by just the thought of him, Dylan leaned back and massaged her already hardened nipples. Using her index finger and thumb, she playfully toyed with them.
“Would you please take your clothes off . . . or would you rather me do that part
?” She sang softly as her hand traveled down her stomach and landed on the face of her pussy. Slowly, she turned her fingers clockwise. Just as she was about to reach her highest peak and climax, her cell phone rang.
“Goddamnit!” Dylan slapped her hand against her thigh.
After drying her hands off on a towel, she picked up the phone and said, “Hello?”
“What you doing?” Angel asked, noticing she was out of breath.
“You wouldn’t want to know. It might make your dick hard,” she teased.
“Oh, word? You doing it like that?”
“Hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
“Well, go ’head and do yo’ thing. I ain’t mean to interrupt.” He pretended to try to get off the phone.
“You ready to see me tomorrow?” She ignored him.
“About that . . .”
“What?” She panicked.
“You gon’ have to cancel your flight and come out next week,” Angel said, hating to disappoint her.
“Why?”
“’Cause I gotta fly to Miami tonight to do a fuckin’ Pepsi commercial.”
“You didn’t tell me about that. Congratulations, babe. I’m so happy for you,” Dylan said, excited.
“Thanks.”
“Okay, well . . .” She contemplated. “What I’ll do is just change my flight and come down there instead.”
“Nah, it’s a one day thing. I’ma be in and out. Like I said, just come down next week.”
“I guess I have no choice then,” she shot with an attitude.
“You mad?” He spoke deep into the phone.
“What you think?”
“Don’t be that way. You know I want you here, but business comes first.”
“Obviously,” she answered, upset.
“What you gettin’ ready to get into?” Angel changed the subject.
“I guess nothing.” She sighed.
“Well, look, give me a minute and let me call you right back.”
“A’ight,” Dylan said, not really wanting to get off the phone.
 
 
Two hours passed by and Angel hadn’t called back or answered his phone when she called. It was so obvious by his actions that he was on some other shit. Angel had gotten back to L.A. and wasn’t even beat for her anymore.
That no sex rule probably wasn’t even true,
she thought.
His ass probably been fuckin’ his ass off this whole time, while my dumb ass been over here playin’ with my pussy so much it got tire marks. As a matter of fact, I think I may have carpal tunnel.
Dylan massaged her wrist.
“Fuck this.” She got up from the bed. “He ain’t gon’ play me like a goddamn dummy.”
By eleven that night, Dylan was dressed and ready to head out for a night on the town. Angel’s cheating ass wasn’t going to stop her shine. After getting dropped off at the door by her driver, she headed into the club. HOME nightclub at the Ameristar Casino Resort Spa was one of St. Louis’s hippest clubs. It had the latest in everything, from their decadent red furniture to audio visuals, and celebrity guests and performers. That night, N.E.R.D. was hitting the stage. Dylan adored N.E.R.D. She couldn’t miss the opportunity to see them live.
As soon as she stepped foot inside the building, Dylan was bombarded by people she knew from the club scene. She felt like a fuckin’ rock star. The only thing she was missing was a black guitar. Dylan spotted Kema, who was one of Tee-Tee’s best friends. Dylan loved kickin’ it with Kema. Outside of herself, Kema was the ultimate party girl.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Dylan air-kissed both of her cheeks.
“Hey. Cute face,” Kema said, complimenting her makeup.
“Cute bag.” Dylan appreciated her Valentino hobo purse.
“So, tell me . . .” Kema poked out her chest. “Too much lady lumps, or just enough?” she said, referring to her breasts.
“Just enough.”
“Cool.” Kema brought her chest back in.
“What you doing here?” Dylan asked.
“Girl . . .” Kema smacked her lips. “Like you don’t know. I’m tryin’ to make Pharrell fine ass my husband.” Kema was referring to the lead singer of N.E.R.D.
“Well, before you do that, let’s go get a drink first,” Dylan suggested.
“You ain’t said nothing but a word. Where the Patrón at?”
After having bottles of Cristal and Ace of Spade sent to them in the V.I.P section, Dylan and Kema toasted to the good life as they listened to N.E.R.D. perform their set. After, rockin’ her hips, Dylan zoned out to the beat of “Love Come Down” by Dirty Money. It was her song, and although she couldn’t sing worth a damn, Dylan sang every lyric like she was Kalenna and Dawn. Then the DJ began to spin Latoya Luckett’s fuck-his-ass anthem, “Regret.”
“You must regret the day that you left me,”
Dylan sang, clapping her hands, thinking of State. Bobbing her head, she grooved to the beat. Being the one in control of her and State’s relationship never felt so good. She couldn’t get him off her phone. Every five seconds, he was calling or texting her. Dylan wanted to act like she couldn’t care less and that he was a lame, but her ego fed off his constant attention, whining, and begging.
Dylan was having so much fun that she had almost forgotten about her troubles with Angel; that was, until Kema opened her mouth and said, “Girl, ain’t that yo’ man?”
“What?” Dylan immediately stopped dancing.
She knew damn well Angel wasn’t in St. Louis, let alone up in the club.
“Where?” She searched the crowd.
“Right there.” Kema pointed toward the door.
“Oh, hell naw.” Dylan’s lips curled.
Her instincts were right. Angel wasn’t there, but State’s coon ass was.
“Honey, that niggah right there is so five minutes ago.” Dylan waved her hand.
“You ain’t got to tell me twice.” Kema kept on drinking and dancing.
Deciding it was time for her to leave, Dylan gulped down the last of her drink. “I’m about to go.”
“Why?” Kema said, disappointed. “I was just about to order another bottle.”
“’Cause I cannot be around him. If he even look at me the wrong way, I might fuck around and hit him in the head with one of these bottles.”
“Well, all right. I do not need you going to jail, Sheila,” Kema joked, comparing Dylan to the character in the movie
Why Did I Get Married?
“I’ll call you, though,” Dylan promised.
“Okay.”
With the crowd being as packed as it was, Dylan assumed that she would be able to sneak out without State noticing her, but one of the bouncers just had to go and shout, “Where you going, sexy?”
The word sexy was like a moth to a flame, a wet tongue to a dick for State. There was no way he could hear the word and not a put a face to the comment. Once he saw Dylan, a bomb exploded inside him. She looked even more succulent than she did at the VMAs. She had on a sleeveless light blue denim crop jacket, a cutoff tank top exposing her flat stomach, dark skinny leg jeans, and a pair of bright yellow Givenchy heels. He had to have her.
“Dylan!”
“Why, God? Why?” She stared up at the sky. “I should’ve stayed my ass home.”
Dylan didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself, but secretly she was overjoyed to see State. Quietly, he’d become the persistent hunger pain in her stomach that wouldn’t go away.
“What?” She faked an attitude.
“Quit frontin’. You know you happy to see me.” He pulled her into him by the belt loop on her jeans.
“What makes you think I’m happy to see a cheater?”
“That big-ass Kool-Aid smile on your face.”
“Whateva.” Dylan waved him off, trying not to observe his sly grin.
“I took a chance on runnin’ into you here.”
“How you figure I would even be here?” she wondered.
“’Cause you never miss an opportunity to be in the midst of celebrities,” State answered. He knew her well.
“Whateva. Where is Ashton?”
“Back at the crib, decorating. Everything in my house is now beige.” He scowled.
“I thought you wanted beige.”
“I did, but it doesn’t quite . . . fit.” He stared deep into her eyes.
“I just bet.” She grinned and looked the other way.
“You look hot.”
“I know I do. Anything else you want? ’Cause I was on my way out.”
“I don’t know why you keep actin’ like the past few months ain’t been as hard on you as they have been for me. What we had was special and you know that.” He pinned her up against the wall, her full breasts pressed against his chest.
“So special that you were married the whole time and couldn’t be bothered to tell me? Yeah . . . okay, that makes a lot of sense. You know what? I’m starting to feel sick.” Dylan sucked her teeth.
“Why?”
“’Cause this conversation is making me nauseous,” she spat.
“Listen, baby, I know that what I did was fucked up, but I miss you.”
“And you’re tellin’ me this because . . . ?”
Unsure of what to say, State stood silent.
“That’s what I thought. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She bypassed him.
“Wait a minute.” He pulled her back into him.
“What?”
“I got a secret to tell you.” He whispered into her ear. “My marriage is over. It’s not workin’.”
Dylan gasped for air.
Why is he doing this to me?
Those were the last words she needed to hear from him, but somehow, a piece of her self-esteem came back.
“You got a pen?”
“Yeah, why?” She gathered her composure.
“Give it to me.”
Dylan reached into her purse and retrieved the pen. “Here.” She handed it to him.
State pulled a white envelope out of his pocket and wrote a note on it and passed it to Dylan.
“Hopefully, I’ll see you soon.” He lightly brushed his lips against hers, causing a flame to ignite in the pit of her soul.
With the look of desire in her eyes, Dylan watched him leave. Once he was out of sight, she examined the envelope and recognized that on it was a room number for a hotel room there in the casino. She knew that if she played into her forbidden desires, remorse would eat away at her in the morning. But Dylan’s body needed to be touched, teased, penetrated, fucked. There was no reason for her to feel sorry about her erotic thoughts. Angel couldn’t care less about her wants and needs. He was probably fucking someone at that very second. And no, Dylan wasn’t good at forgiving, but she couldn’t hate State if she tried. She still really, really loved him, and at the end of the day, love was stronger than pride.
Fed up with depriving herself, Dylan left the club and boarded the elevator. Fear gripped her lungs as she stood at the door. What she was doing was insane. State was by far her guiltiest pleasure, but she couldn’t control herself. Her heart longed to know, was it all real, or had every smile, wink of the eye, or stroke been a lie? Praying she was making the right decision, Dylan lifted her hand and knocked.

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