Read Her Little Black Book Online

Authors: Brenda Jackson

Her Little Black Book (6 page)

BOOK: Her Little Black Book
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“Toni, I—”
“Please. Pretty please.”
Peggy released a long slow breath and then said, “Okay, I'll do it, but you knew that I would. Didn't you?”
Toni smiled, satisfied. “Yes, I knew that you would.”
Barbara locked her office door and went back to her desk to open the package that had been delivered to her. It was in a plain wrapper so she figured it was the video she had ordered a few weeks ago titled,
Improving Your Sex Performance.
She knew she was one of those women who had sexual hang-ups. The therapist had assured her she wasn't alone. A lot of women much preferred traditional when it came to sex, but she knew she had to change her thinking about a lot of things.
One day while at the dentist's office, flipping through a magazine, she had come across an ad for the video and ordered it. Now it was here and she was determined to be open-minded. She would do whatever it took to spice up her performance in the bedroom if it would help keep Ron from straying.
After opening the package she saw the book that accompanied the video. She blushed after flipping through the book and seeing all the different positions for making love. Did couples actually try them? Well, she hoped to find out one day.
Could that have gone as badly as she remembered? Courtney wondered, thinking about her date with Harper and his subsequent arrest. A huge article had appeared in the newspaper the next morning about how an FBI sting operation had resulted in the arrest of five individuals, employed at three different banks, and how they had worked together to filter money from various investment accounts to a dummy one they had established.
She thought about what a nice-looking brotha he was, how articulate he'd spoken, how well educated. What a waste—what a stupid mistake. What could he have been thinking to assume he'd get away with it?
“If you're not going to pay me any attention, we can end this session.”
Courtney glanced across the table at Jetrica. She was right. Courtney hadn't been paying attention.
“Sorry about that, Jetrica. My mind wandered off for a second. I apologize.”
The fourteen-year-old had been sitting in the office when Courtney arrived, not in anticipation of their meeting but because she had gotten kicked out of class for disrespecting a teacher. With a mass of shoulder-length dreads on her head, Jetrica was a pretty girl, if you could look past the bad attitude she displayed most of the time. But Courtney had quickly caught on to her. All Jetrica wanted was attention, and she was willing to do just about anything to get it. She had beautiful features, although she was trying to make herself appear older and grown-up with the use of an eyebrow pencil, mascara, and lipstick. Then there was that fake beauty mole that dotted her chin, right beneath her bottom lip.
Her clothes, donated from one of the local thrift stores, were all hand-me-downs. But at least the shirt that seemed a deliberate size too small and the jeans that were somewhat too tight, were clean.
“Like I was saying before your mind began wandering,” Jetrica said smartly, irritatingly poking out her lip. “Mrs. Peyton doesn't like me. She always calls on me to answer a question when she knows good and well that I won't know the answer.”
“And why won't you know the answer?” Courtney asked her.
Jetrica rolled her eyes. “Because I have better things to do with my time than study.”
“Not if you want to get promoted to the next grade.”
Jetrica lifted her chin. “I'm not worrying about that. My grades are good.”
Courtney knew that to be true, which was one of the reasons Vickie had talked her into being Jetrica's mentor. As amazing as it seemed, even with her badass attitude and deciding to skip school whenever the feeling struck, Jetrica had the ability to ace all her exams, which meant she either did study or she had this ingrained knowledge that was unreal. Courtney leaned toward believing the former. According to Jetrica's sister, the girl locked herself in her room most of the time with a book in her face. So why couldn't she come clean and admit she had a thirst for knowledge, and why did she continue to paint herself as a dummy in the classroom?
“There's nothing wrong with being smart, you know,” Courtney told her.
“I'm not smart,” Jetrica all but snapped.
“Oh, I tend to disagree. And you're also talented. Several people have asked me about that painting you did for me. They were impressed.”
Courtney saw the flash of interest that lit Jetrica's eyes moments before she put her nonchalant mask in place and gave a sarcastic remark. “Well, they shouldn't be, and I hope you told them who did it for you was none of their damn business.”
“Excuse me,” Courtney said, frowning. “I thought I told you that I would not tolerate you saying curse words in front of me.”
“For crying out loud, Ms. Andrews.
Damn
is not a curse word.”
“It is to me, and not one I want coming from your mouth.”
Jetrica rolled her eyes, which was something she did so often, Courtney figured one day they would get stuck in the top of her head. “And what if I don't want care?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring.
Courtney was determined not to be put off by Jetrica's mood. Jetrica was trying her, which she did often enough, but considering how her weekend went, she wasn't in the mood. “You don't have a choice, at least not for this school year anyway. You're stuck with me.”
The frown on the young girl's face suddenly turned soft, and she giggled. “Okay, I'm stuck with you, which means you're stuck with me, too.”
Now it was Courtney's time to roll her eyes. “And I pray every day for God's strength to endure.”
“Hawaii?” Ron Andrews asked in surprise.
“Yes,” Barbara said excitedly as she stared over at her husband. They had just left from meeting with their marriage therapist and had stopped by a restaurant for dinner. “You heard what the therapist said. Considering everything that's happened, it will be good to get away for a while, just the two of us, unwind, relax, and rebuild that foundation for our marriage.”
Yeah, he'd heard everything the therapist had said and he'd gotten pretty damn bored just listening to it. When
Barbara had given him an ultimatum—they had to seek professional help or else, he had jumped at the idea, willing to do just about anything to save his marriage. But now that Ashira was back in his bed, or rather he in hers—and on a regular basis—he wasn't all that committed.
But he was cautious. This time he wouldn't screw up. He had explained things to Ashira, and for once she hadn't whined, sulked, and complained. She was willing to get him back on any terms, even if it meant playing second fiddle to his wife. She claimed she could handle that. But what she couldn't handle or put up with was him dropping her again. She had done things for him, both in and out of bed that she hadn't done for any other man, and wife or no wife, she was in it for the long haul. She didn't mind being the other woman as long as he knew her place and provided her with the things she wanted. She liked her single life and had no desire to be any man's wife. She actually relished the thought of being a man's personal whore. Those had been her words and not his. But the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. His own personal whore. And a willing one. He shifted in his chair, feeling a boner coming on.
“Ron?”
Barbara reclaimed his attention. He looked up at her. His wife wasn't so bad, and she definitely wasn't bad looking. In fact, he thought she was rather attractive. And when he imagined truly loving someone, he would immediately think of her. Over the years she had kept her body pretty much in shape. She always dressed nice and looked nice. Some men, probably most, would find her sexy, even
at fifty. In a way, he did, too. Until they got into the bedroom.
She was too traditional to suit his taste. At first being traditional had been fine, until he'd gotten a taste of the wild side. It had blown his mind, given his pecker a whole new perspective, and made traditional unattractive. He liked the feel of a woman stroking him first with her hands, then with her mouth. He appreciated, loved, and simply cherished a good blow job, something his wife of almost thirty years still had never performed on him. Once, years ago, he had mentioned it and he'd actually watched her almost gag at the thought. To say she wasn't adventurous in bed was an understatement. Oral sex was simply something she refused to consider. And after finding out about all his other women, not once had she considered that perhaps the reason he'd sought out others was because of her lack of being creative, spontaneous, and a little freakish.
“Baby, I think the two of us going to Hawaii is a wonderful idea, but have you forgotten I'm teaching classes this semester and finals will be coming up soon?” he asked, hoping that would be an end to it.
A little pout formed on her lips. “Surely you can take off two weeks, Ron. I bet Elijah would be glad to cover for you.”
“I don't know, Barb.”
“Then ask him. You do want us to spend time together, don't you?”
To say he didn't want that would start an argument, which he'd rather avoid. Lately they were getting along
just great. He could play the part of the doting husband as long as he was getting some on the side. And Ashira was really laying it on thick. “Yes, of course, I do.”
“And you want our marriage to work out this time.”
“You know I do, sweetheart.”
He saw disappointment settle in her eyes. “Courtney doesn't think that it will.”
He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “Courtney doesn't know everything.”
Barbara pulled her hand back and met his gaze directly. “She knows enough, Ron. Our daughter is the main person who's been suffering through our marriage, when we couldn't get our act together. That's why she's so cynical. Why she refuses to believe we can make it work this time. We have to prove her wrong.”
Ron scowled down at his plate of food. It was getting cold from him having this damn conversation. He didn't want to leave town, not even for two weeks. His pecker had gotten spoiled. There were some things it needed on a regular basis, things Barbara wouldn't deliver for two weeks in Hawaii. But he didn't want to get her upset. He didn't want her thinking there was a reason he wasn't interested in leaving Orlando for a while. Surely he would be able to survive without a mouth down south on him for two weeks.
“If it makes you happy, then I'll check with Elijah to see if he can cover those classes for me.”
Barbara smiled. “Truly?”
He nodded. “Yes, truly.”
She reached back over across the table and took
his hand. “Thanks, Ron. I think it's a good beginning for us.”
If she said so, but personally, he wasn't all that certain.
Courtney sat on her screen porch and enjoyed the mixed drink she'd prepared. It had rained earlier, but before dusk had settled, the sun peeped out through the clouds again.
She thought about her meeting with Jetrica. The girl was trying to make it unpleasant to continue mentoring her, but Courtney refused to give up on Jetrica. And then there was that extraordinary talent the girl had. She could be an awesome artist if she put her mind to it. What Courtney had told her earlier that day was the truth. That painting Jetrica had done and given her for Christmas was simply amazing.
A few moments later, Courtney got up, went into her bedroom, and pulled her little black book out of the night-stand drawer. She was determined not to let what happened on her date with Harper deter her from seeking out another name. Besides, she had made Sonya a promise. She had marked out Harper's name after that first night, and the next name listed was Don Woods.
She reached for the phone, hoping her experience with Don would be better than the one she'd had with Harper.
Don Woods was a brotha on the down-low.
And it was a downright dirty shame, Courtney thought, sitting across from him and sipping her drink. She hadn't picked up on it immediately, but it hadn't taken too long to figure it out. He was handsome in a manly sort of way, well built and muscular. His voice was deep and husky. His mannerisms didn't raise suspicions either … at first.
But when she had looked up from studying her menu and caught him giving their waiter more than a cursory glance, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Something wasn't right. To be fair, she hadn't wanted to jump to conclusions, so for the rest of the evening she'd had to rely on her keen sense of observation. By the end of dinner,
she was convinced Don should be calling himself Dawn instead.
“You never did say where you got my number?”
Courtney met his gaze across the table. When she had called him, unlike Harper, he had asked about that. She hadn't told him then, and she had no intention of telling him now. “Why does that matter since you decided to meet me tonight anyway?” she asked, wondering what his response would be. Chances were, he wouldn't argue the point.
He smiled. “You're right, it doesn't matter. I'm here, and so are you. You are a very beautiful woman.”
She scanned his face. “And you are a very handsome man.”
Courtney could see that her compliment pleased him. It hadn't been a hard one to make.
From what he'd told her, he owned a limousine company that he claimed kept him pretty busy. He was an only child, and at thirty-five enjoyed a lot of outside sports, which was the reason he kept in great physical shape.
Too bad she wasn't one of those women who didn't care if her man straddled the fence. Her parents' mockery of a marriage had taught her to seek out the real thing when it came to love and relationships and to tolerate nothing less. To do otherwise was just plain ludicrous as far as she was concerned.
That was the reason she wanted to call it an early night. Hanging around would be a waste of her time as well as his. Dinner had been nice, and they had enjoyed
each other's company, chitchatting about several things, but nothing of real importance.
She knew she had to come up with an excuse to end the evening and was racking her brain, trying to come up with a pretext when his cell phone rang. A part of her was a little annoyed that he had kept his turned on when she'd turned hers off.
After pulling the phone out his jacket, he quickly checked to see who was calling, then glanced over at her and said, “Excuse me, Courtney, I need to take this call.” He got up from the table and headed toward the men's room.
Now she was really irritated. To take her mind off that irritation, she looked around the restaurant. It was a nice place, real upscale. She'd been surprised when Don suggested it. The food had been excellent, the—
“Excuse me, ma'am, Mr. Woods told me to let you know he had to leave.”
Courtney blinked up at the waiter, a different man from the one who had served them earlier. “Excuse me?”
“Mr. Woods, the man you were dining with, told me to convey his apologies, but an emergency came up and he had to leave.” The man cleared his throat when he added, “He also said that you would be the one to take care of both checks.”
“What!”
“That's what he said.”
Courtney breathed in deeply. In all her years, no man had ever stiffed her with a dinner check. The first thought that came to her mind was that Don Woods was an idiot to think she would cover the cost of his dinner as well as
her own, but as she stared at the waiter, she knew he was expecting her to do just that. “Fine,” she said as calmly as she could. “Please bring me both checks.”
When the man walked away, disappointment set in. Where on earth had Sonya found these men? Granted Harper and Don were handsome, but both of them had real issues.
“Here you are, ma'am,” the waiter said when he returned. He was smiling, obviously relieved. She bet he hadn't bought the story of Don's sudden emergency any more than she had. Deciding not to stress over it any longer and to accept the fact that she had gotten screwed, she pulled the charge card out of her purse.
Suddenly something clicked in Courtney's mind. She looked up at the waiter and asked, “The other waiter who was serving us, what happened to him?”
The man shrugged. “He also had to leave. An emergency came up for him, as well.”
Courtney nodded. She didn't want to jump to conclusions about anything but …
She handed the waiter her charge card. She hoped her bad luck with the black book was a fluke and that the next name in it would be a whole lot better than the first two. He just had to be, or she would be tempted to toss that little black book right in the trash regardless of the promise she'd made to Sonya.
Peggy glanced down at herself as she stepped off the elevator. The sun was shining brightly outside, and the drive
in to work had been fantastic, especially since she had joined in with Sly and the Family Stone when her favorite song, “Everyday People,” came blaring on the radio.
Her mother, Lola Phelps, had never intended for her two daughters, Peggy and Barbara, to be everyday people. Especially not after Disney arrived in the late sixties and decided they needed the tract of land—over four hundred acres—that had been in the Phelps family for years.
Wanting a better life for her and her daughters, Lola hadn't thought of not selling. After all, she was the last of the Phelpses, and there was no close living relative to offer advice on whether or not she was making a bad decision.
So Lola had taken the money and basically ran, not away from Orlando but to a nice section of town where she had raised her daughters in grace and style and given them whatever she felt they would need to survive in what she saw as a harsh and oftentimes cruel world. She had educated them at some of the finest private schools, and had sent them to Atlanta to be educated at Spellman, letting them know from the jump that just a bachelor's degree wouldn't do. They would need graduate degrees. Then she had established trust funds for them, which meant that even after the last breath had left her body, they would be taken care of. And she had lived long enough to see the both of them married off to well-educated men.
Peggy always admired her mother's strength, her ability to handle just about anything in life—including men. And that is where, Peggy thought sadly, her mother had failed them. She had provided them the proper grace and breeding to carry themselves as ladies in the truest
form, but Lola hadn't educated her daughters on how to deal with doggish, no-good men. Men who didn't believe in keeping their vows. Men who constantly thought with their pecker instead of their head. Men obsessed with sleeping with women more than half their age. Men who were just plain outright assholes. The exact men she and Barbara had married.
At least she had gotten Joe out of her life and finally out of her system and had moved on. Barbara, for whatever reason, was still holding on to Ron. Peggy shook her head sadly, thinking about the conversation she'd had with her younger sister over dinner a week or so ago. Barbara actually thought that Ron was through screwing around on her, and that he was actually going to keep his pants zipped. He had promised her. On his mother's grave. Yeah. Right.
“Good morning, Ms. Morrison.”
She smiled at Toni's secretary. “Good morning, Sharon.”
“How was the drive in to the office this morning?”
“Funny you should ask,” Peggy said, grinning. “I was just thinking about how nice it was. Oh, I ran into the usual traffic snarls, but that was okay. The radio station I was listening to was belting out some of my favorites, songs I haven't heard in years, so I decided to do a sing-along. It was wonderful.”
“I'm glad, because Mr. Baker wants to know if your appointment with him could be moved up an hour. Something has come up, and he needs to fly out of Orlando sooner than he'd originally planned.”
Peggy nodded. “Sure. How soon did he want us to meet?”
A sheepish look came into Sharon's eyes. “Umm, how about right now? He arrived unexpectedly, so I placed him in your office, thinking it would be better than having him wait in the lobby—especially when he said that he had a few private calls to make.”
“Okay. Meeting him now won't be a problem.”
A few moments later she was walking down the long hallway to her office. When Toni had brought her back into the workforce a year ago, her best friend had done it in style by giving her a beautifully decorated office on the executive floor, overlooking a huge lake. Toni had claimed she needed her close by to be her sounding board when things got crazy in the office. She was yet to be used that way and always figured she wouldn't be, since Toni was the most easygoing person she knew.
The door to her office was slightly ajar, but as she got near, she could hear the distinct sound of a male voice. It had a deep, husky tone combined with a smoothed silken timbre. When she got to the door and looked inside, a man stood talking on his mobile phone, his profile to her. She was about to take a step back to give him privacy when suddenly he turned and saw her standing there.
For some reason, her muscles suddenly went lax and her breathing became labored. Their eyes met, and it registered for her that Willie Baker was a very handsome man. Tall, nicely built, he had a mature look, with a sprinkle of gray at his temples. His features were sharp, and the
smile that settled on his lips at that moment was lethal. If he looked this good at fifty-nine, she could just imagine what a heartthrob he'd been at twenty-nine.
Panic skidded up her spine. This was the first time she'd taken keen notice of a man's attractiveness since her marriage to Joe. Even after the divorce, she had been too bitter to do anything but consider any man with a half-decent face nothing but trouble.
“Peggy Morrison?”
That sexy voice again made her blink, and she watched him put his cell phone in his jacket pocket before crossing the room to her, coming to a stop right in front of her, and smiling.
“Yes, I'm Peggy Morrison.”
He reached out his hand, gently took hers in no more than a business handshake, yet she felt the touch all the way to her toes. “Your secretary let me use your office. I hope you don't mind.”
She suddenly felt light-headed. Suddenly felt so unlike the disciplined person that she was. The one that she had become, thanks to Joe. “No, of course I don't mind,” she quickly found her voice to say. “If you need me to leave and come back later, then I can—”
“No, that's not necessary.”
“You sure?” she asked, thinking that maybe leaving and coming back wouldn't be such a bad idea. A few moments alone were probably something she could use to screw her head back on straight.
“I'm positive. But what I do need, before we get things started, is something to eat. I should have grabbed a bite
before I left the hotel this morning but didn't. Would you have something against us having a breakfast meeting?”
“No, not at all, Mr. Baker.” She recalled Toni's instructions to accommodate this man at all costs.
“I prefer that you call me Willie, and I hope you'd be comfortable with my use of your first name, Ms. Morrison.”
“Yes, and it's Peggy.”
“All right, Peggy, now are you sure you won't mind us having a breakfast meeting?”
A teasing glint in his eyes made her smile. “Yes, I'm sure. We have a number of restaurants in the area that you can choose from.”
He nodded slowly and then said, “I'm a simple man who likes simple things. In fact, from your window I noticed my favorite breakfast restaurant.”
She glanced over at her window and then back at him. “You did?”
“Yes. Come let me point it out to you.”
He led her over to the window, and when he pushed back the blinds and pointed to the golden arches, she couldn't help but laugh. “I haven't been to one of those in years.”
His tawny brown eyes shone when he looked at her. She tried ignoring the none-too-subtle sexual pull inside her when he smiled.
“Like I said, I'm a simple man.”
Simple but rich,
Peggy thought a short while later when they sat across the table from each other in the
McDonald's.
Powerful but not overbearing
. On the short car ride over, she quickly discovered he was unpretentious. What you saw was what you got. Willie Baker hadn't been born with a silver spoon in his own mouth and appreciated his own humble beginnings. You couldn't help but admire a man who thought like that. And then there was his bubbly personality, something else she hadn't expected. He liked people, and acknowledging everyone's presence with either a nod or a hello seemed to come natural to him.
She glanced at his plate. He was a hearty eater, if the pancakes and sausages piled high were any indication. He'd also gotten a carton each of milk and orange juice. She had settled on a biscuit and coffee. The breakfast notwithstanding, he was also someone who believed in staying physically fit, if his body was anything to go by. He was tall, lean, and tight. She hadn't seen an inch of flab anywhere. That said a lot for a man his age.
BOOK: Her Little Black Book
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