Careful of the Company You Keep (35 page)

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Authors: Angie Daniels

BOOK: Careful of the Company You Keep
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From
Exposed
by Naomi Chase
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Chapter 1
“Tamia! Baby, get up.”
Jolted awake by her boyfriend's frantic voice, Tamia Luke opened her eyes and stared at his dark, handsome face. “What time is it?”
“After seven,” Brandon replied.
“Shit!”
Tamia threw back the covers and sprang out of bed, naked breasts bouncing. “What happened? Why didn't the alarm clock go off?”
“The power must have gone out when it rained last night.”
“Shit,” Tamia repeated, bending over to retrieve her discarded clothing from the floor. “I can't be late for work. Especially not tod—
Ow!
” she yelped as Brandon slapped her soundly on the ass.
He grinned, dimples flashing in his cheeks. “
That's
for keeping me up late.”
Tamia laughed. “I didn't hear you complaining last night, Negro!” she called as Brandon ducked inside the large master bathroom, a blur of mahogany stretched over lean, taut muscles. “And hurry up so you can take me home!”
Brandon's response was muffled by the sound of running water.
If they hadn't been in such a rush, Tamia would have joined him in the shower for round two of what they'd started last night. After attending a cocktail party at a ritzy downtown hotel, Brandon had invited her back to his place to spend the night. They'd doused themselves with a bottle of champagne, then licked, sucked, and fucked each other until they collapsed from sheer exhaustion. They probably would have overslept even if last night's storm
hadn't
knocked out the electricity.
Grinning slyly to herself, Tamia hurriedly tugged on her bra and panties and the black Christian Lacroix dress she'd worn to the cocktail party. Leaving Brandon to his shower, she headed out of the bedroom and made her way to the kitchen. It was a large, ultramodern room with gleaming granite countertops, black-lacquered cabinets, and stainless steel appliances. It was as immaculate as the rest of Brandon's plush condo, thanks to the cleaning lady who came like clockwork twice a week.
Tamia got busy brewing a pot of gourmet coffee, though she knew Brandon usually stopped at Starbucks on his way to the office. It was the thought that counted. If she'd had more time, she would have whipped up some eggs, bacon, and grits, though she knew Brandon often grabbed breakfast with a colleague at the prestigious law firm where he worked. Again, it was all about taking care of her man. Which was why she'd blown off her friends last night to accompany Brandon to some social mixer he'd forgotten all about until the last minute. And she hadn't batted an eye when he'd sheepishly asked her to pick up his tux from the dry cleaner. Tamia would have gone anywhere and done anything he'd asked of her.
Because she was on a mission to become Mrs. Brandon Chambers.
Oh, she knew she had her work cut out for her. Truth be told, Brandon was more interested in making partner at his law firm than getting married. Although Tamia frequently spent the night at his place, she was barely allowed to keep a toothbrush there. And after seven months of dating, she had yet to meet his parents, one of the most powerful political couples in Texas. Whenever she hinted at being introduced to them, Brandon always told her that his folks could be very intimidating, so he didn't want to scare her off.
What he didn't realize was that Tamia didn't scare very easily. So she'd be a good little wifey for as long as it took to convince him to put a ring on her finger.
Smiling at the thought, she poured steaming coffee into two fancy paper cups and snapped on the lids just as Brandon strode purposefully into the kitchen. He was impeccably dressed in a dark pin-striped suit that accentuated his tall, athletic build.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Been ready.” Tamia straightened his tie, admiring his smooth chocolate skin, midnight eyes, and boyishly sexy smile. Brandon was the total package: fine as hell, rich, smart, and successful. He was going places, and she had no intention of being left behind.
“Here. I made you some coffee.”
Accepting the cup from her, he took a long sip and let out an appreciative groan. “Damn, baby, you make the best brew. What would I do without you?”
Tamia smiled privately.
If I play my cards right, you'll never have to find out.
Twenty minutes later, they turned off the main road and into a lushly landscaped development located in the shadow of Houston's Galleria. Brandon was on his BlackBerry, assuring his secretary that he wouldn't be late for a scheduled deposition that morning. So he didn't notice the way Tamia's hands clenched in her lap as they passed another car on the narrow street, nor did he hear the small sigh of relief that seeped past her lips.
He pulled up to a one-story stucco house situated on a perfectly manicured lawn. Tamia's red Honda Accord was parked in the driveway.
Grabbing her purse, she leaned over to kiss Brandon. “Have a good day.”
He smiled. “You, too. Don't be late for work.”
“If I am, I'll just
blame it on the rain,
” she said, crooning the old Milli Vanilli song.
Brandon laughed as she climbed out of his Maybach.
Although he was in a hurry, he waited until she'd reached the front door before he pulled off with a wave.
Tamia inserted her key in the lock, stepped inside the cool interior of the house, and closed the door. But she didn't move beyond the foyer. Staring anxiously at her watch, she waited until three minutes had ticked by. Then, opening the door, she poked her head outside and glanced up and down the tree-lined street, watching as cars backed out of driveways and joined the flow of other vehicles headed to various workplaces.
As Tamia locked the house and hurried to her own car, her cell phone rang. She fumbled it out of her purse and answered with a breathless, “Girl, that was close!”
“I know,” Shanell Jasper agreed. “I was running late this morning. And so are you! What happened?”
Tamia grimaced, sliding behind the wheel of her car. “The power went out last night, so we overslept.”
“Uh-oh. You've got that client meeting at nine. Are you going to be late?”
“I hope not.” Tamia glanced at her watch, mentally calculating how long it would take her to get home, shower and change, and make it to the office on time. If only she'd had the foresight to leave a change of clothes at Shanell's place last night. But everything had been so rushed. After picking up Brandon's tux from the dry cleaner, dropping it off at his condo, and hurrying home to get dressed for the cocktail party, she'd reached Shanell's house just minutes before Brandon arrived to pick her up.
“How long do you think you can keep this up?” Shanell asked.
Tamia pulled onto the main road. “What?”
Shanell snorted. “You know damn well what I'm talking about. This crazy charade of yours, lying to Brandon about where you live and using my house as your cover. How long can you keep this shit up?”
“However long it takes.”
“And what if it takes that man, like, five years to propose?” Shanell paused. “Or what if he never does?”
“He will,” Tamia said resolutely.
Before Shanell attempted to sow more seeds of doubt in her mind, Tamia told her that she'd see her at the office, then ended the call.
She knew her coworker meant well, and God knows Shanell had every right to voice her concerns since she was doing Tamia such a huge favor. But Shanell didn't understand what was truly at stake here. She had no clue what it was like to grow up on the wrong side of the tracks and dare to aspire to greater things. The crumbling shotgun house Tamia still called home was a world away from the lavish River Oaks estate where Brandon had been raised. He wouldn't be caught dead dating someone from Houston's notorious Third Ward—no matter how smart, successful, and educated Tamia now was. So showing him where she
really
lived was out of the question.
Sure, she felt a pang of guilt every time she lied to him or had to inconvenience her coworker. But she was compensating Shanell for her trouble. And once she and Brandon were married, Tamia would spend the rest of her life proving to him that he'd made the right decision.
From
Suspicions
by Sasha Campbell
In stores May 2011
1
Tiffany
“
G
uuuurrrrrrrl,
I met this dude from Jamaica last weekend. Trust and believe me when I tell you, he was a straight up Mandingo!”
“Peaches, sit still before I burn your ear!” Damn! How was I supposed to style her hair if she kept moving? Besides, I don't know what made her think I wanted to listen to her talking about getting some from a dude she barely knew.
“Oops, my bad!” Peaches chuckled. “It's just not often that I find a man with some good dick.”
“Ooh! I know that's right,” cackled some toothpick with a jacked-up weave, sitting in the chair beside her. “I ain't had a man with anything worth talking about in a long time. They either can't get it up or when they do, it ain't worth my time.”
While everyone on the salon floor started talking about men's private parts, I simply pursed my lips and kept on flat ironing Peaches' hair. I don't know why my clients always think I wanted to hear about their sex lives.
“Shhhh-shhhh! I don't know if y'all know this or not, but . . . Tiffany don't know nothing about getting laid.”
I grabbed a comb and pointed it at Debra, ready to cuss her behind every which way, but decided not to waste my breath. She's the newest stylist at
Situations
and unfortunately my booth happened to be right next to hers, which meant she had eavesdropped on one too many of my conversations. In fact, it was a bad habit I was determined to break. “Debra, nobody asked you to be spreading my personal business,” I mumbled. What she needed to be worried about was that no-good baby daddy of hers.
Debra gave an innocent look then had the nerve to wave her hand like she was dismissing me. “I don't know why you getting mad. You should be proud to let everyone know you're not getting none.”
“Not getting none?” Peaches' head snapped in my direction, her bubble eyes big as saucers. “What's up with that?”
Now all eyes were on me. Damn, why she all up in my business? “I'm just not out there trying to give it up to everybody.” I wasn't yelling, but I had definitely raised my voice.
Debra started laughing. “Everybody? Hell, you haven't given it to anybody.”
I gave her a nasty look. With God as my witness, before long, she and I were going to have it out. “Some of us were raised to hold onto our virginity for the right man while others weren't.” I don't know why I was even trying to explain to a bunch of chicks who wouldn't understand that some of us didn't believe in giving it up to every Tom, Dick, and Jerry they come across.
“Okay . . . lemme get this straight. You saying
you're
a virgin?” Peaches asked for clarification and swung her seat all the way around so she could look at me dead in my mouth. Thanks to Debra, they were all trying to get in my business.
“Did I stutter? I'm saving myself for the right man,” I replied with a mean glare. “Now turn around.” I was done discussing my personal life. Unfortunately, Peaches wasn't finished yet.
“Hold up, Tif. What about that cutie pie who picked you up the last time I was here?”
I glanced around to see if anyone else was listening. The last thing I wanted was one of these trifling females in the salon to try and push up on my man. “What about him?” I said with attitude.
“I
know
you gotta be getting some of that.” She said like she'd caught me in a lie.
“Sheee-it,
I would.”
“Puhleeze,” Debra cackled. “Tiffany ain't gave him shit!”
“You lying?” Peaches' mouth was hanging open then all of a suddenly she and Debra looked each other and burst out laughing. “Dayuumn, Tiffany. I ain't mad atcha!” I was seconds away from telling Peaches to get the hell out my chair because I didn't give a damn if she believed me or not, but she was one of my best clients and times were hard.
The skinny chick sitting in Debra's chair threw her hands up in surrender. “Hell naw! I heard it all.”
The conversation wasn't anything new to me. My girls had always thought it strange that I was twenty-seven and still a virgin. All of them couldn't wait to fall in love and have sex while I had the willpower they didn't have to say no. I won't say it had always been easy but it was either wait or deal with Ruby Dee. My mother was one woman you didn't want to mess with. If she said keep your legs closed then you better do it. Her fist was the only chastity belt I had ever needed.
I glanced around the floor then took a deep breath before I said, “Why is it if a woman says she's a virgin, she has to be lying?”
“Damn, Tiffany, it's not like it's a bad thing. It's just, well . . . almost unheard of,” Debra said on the defense.
When Peaches finally stopped laughing, she said, “Also, there is this thing called
being horny
. Hell, I lost my virginity when I was fourteen.”
And that's why she had four kids. I reached for a brush. “So what? Everybody ain't like you. My mother taught me that what I have is precious and I needed to make a man earn the privilege after he makes me his wife.” I probably sounded like I thought I was all that, but so what? Women needed to have more respect for themselves.
Debra sucked her bucked-teeth like a horse. “I know that's right, girl! Make those niggas beg for it.” That wasn't at all what I meant, but I doubt Debra would know the difference.
That anorexic-looking chick with the jacked-up weave had the nerve to give her two cents. “You a better woman than me, because there ain't no way in hell I would marry a man before I knew what he was working with. I think about all those women back in the day, who couldn't have sex until after they got married only to find out that not only couldn't her husband fuck, but his dick wasn't even circumcised.”
“Ugh!” Peaches was laughing so hard, she practically fell from my chair. “I couldn't even imagine. Call me a ho if you wanna, but to me it's just like sampling a piece of meat in the deli. I need to know what I'm getting before I spend my money!” She flinched. “Ouch!”
“That's what you get for moving. I told you to sit still,” I replied and tried to keep a straight face. That's what she gets for being all up in my business.
Now everybody wanted to get in the conversation. They were now shouting back and forth across the room with the chicks sitting in the waiting area. I half listened as I worked on my client's head. I've heard this topic time and time before and I'll admit there have been times when I wondered what it would be like being married to Kimbel, and what if he doesn't satisfy me. But on the other hand, as my best friend told me, you can't miss what you've never had.
Ms. Conrad lifted the hooded dryer from her head. I should have known her nosy behind was listening. “I'ma tell y'all, I was married to my husband for twenty years before he decided he wanted his freedom. Charles was the only man I had ever been with so I had no idea what I was missing. But leaving me was the best thing he could have ever done for me. I now got a man in my life, who makes my toes curl.”
“Shit, I know that's right. This dude I was with last night had my toes curled and me calling out his name!” screamed some tall chick sitting in the lobby.
Ms. Conrad glared at her. “That's the problem with all you young folks. You're too busy trying to get yours. Relationships are supposed to be about a lot more than just sex.”
Debra waved a hot comb in the air as she spoke. “True, but sex is important. If the sex is bad then so is the relationship.” She shook her head. “Tiffany, I don't see how you can do.”
Toothpick chick gave me a curious grin. “So, is your fiancé a virgin, too?”
Damn they're nosy. “Nope, but he knows I am and he respects that.” I wasn't about to tell them Kimbel spent half his time trying to convince me to give it up. Part of me felt the only reason he proposed so soon was because he knew that marrying me was the only way he was going to get some. But Kimbel was rich and he could have any woman he wanted, yet he picked me, a little girl from the projects who grew up in a single parent home. I truly believed he wouldn't have asked me to be his wife if he didn't love me.
“How long y'all been together?” Toothpick asked.
“Six months. He proposed on Valentine's Day.” I held out my hand so she could see the three carat solitaire surrounded by emeralds that I wore proudly on my finger.
She barely looked before she frowned. “And you think your man's been faithful all this time?” As soon as I nodded, she started laughing. “Honey, puhleeze! Just 'cause you're not fucking doesn't mean he ain't. He's a man and a man's got needs that someone else is more than willing to fulfill.”
I hated bitches like her. I shook my head. “I trust my man.”
“I trust mine, too . . . as far as I can see him. Because the second you turn your back there's some hoochie trying to ride his dick. My baby is fine, therefore, I keep his ass on a short leash.”
Debra started yanking weave out her head. “That's because Ricky ain't no good. Ursula, shut up.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, you know what I'm saying it true.”
Ms. Conrad came to my defense. “All of you need to quit. There is nothing wrong with this young lady saving herself for the right man.”
Peaches turned on the chair again. “Yeah, but how do you know he's the right man until you find out what he's working with, and, better yet, if he can work it?”
“I know that right!” Toothpick high-fived Peaches and ignored the pissed-off look on my face.
“Just because we don't have sex doesn't mean we don't do other things.” I don't know why I felt like I needed to prove something to these ghetto chicks up in here.
Peaches glanced over her shoulder and gave me a strange look. “Things like what? And I hope you're not talking about oral sex. Because last I checked, that was considered sex as well.”
“No, it isn't.” Debra said and tossed a sponge roller at her.
“Yes, it is. There was a news report on
Dateline NBC
a while back about all these high school kids giving each other head because it's supposed to be cool. Kids think it's okay to have oral sex.”
While they debated the issue, I tuned them out and thought about what they said. I would never admit it to any of them, but there were many times when I was tempted to give in to the moment and let Kimbel have exactly what he wanted but every time I was that close to spreading my legs, I heard my mother's nagging voice in my ear, saying, “why buy the cow if the milk is free.” But I'm not going to lie. These heifers in the salon had me thinking. It had been six months since we started dating, which meant Kimbel hadn't had any in half a year. I was confident he wasn't getting any. Some might call me arrogant. Others might call me stupid but I trusted my man. However, the last thing I wanted was for him to get tired of waiting then go out and get him some from one of those trifling chicks in the streets. Now don't get it twisted. I wasn't about to give up my virginity before saying, “I do.” Nevertheless, my mama ain't raised no fool. I was just going to have to prove to my man that what I have would definitely be worth the wait.

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