Chapter 7
Stassi’s pity party she was throwing herself was her way of blocking out the world. Junk food and reality TV somehow made her forget that her life was a shit show. There was something about Black women acting a fool on national television that made her feel like shit could be worse.
She knew she should be up, game planning, rebuilding, and figuring out her life, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do anything other than indulging in somebody else’s drama.
Any drama except her own would do. She was convinced that doing absolutely nothing was a form of therapy, or maybe that was just what she told herself to avoid acknowledging the depression that was surely sneaking up on her.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
Annoyance filled her as she forced herself up from the couch.
She pulled open the door to find the familiar yet unwanted man standing before her.
The handler. Day’s white boy recruiter who vetted the girls Day wanted to fly out.
She didn’t even care that her hair was all over her head or that she had a queso stain on her t-shirt.
“Do you really get paid to find pussy for a rapper?” Stassi asked. “Like, you’re okay with that? What’s your official title? Pussy wrangler? Get away from my door and tell your boss to lose my number.”
“It’s really not like that,” the guy said. “I’m an executive assistant for the label. The name’s Roman, and I’m here on behalf of your sister, Charlie.”
She noticed the box in his hand for the first time. “It’s an invitation to her listening party. Day meant to give it to you yesterday, but he said his time with you was cut short.”
“My sister could have invited me herself.”
“It’s a surprise. Your sister doesn’t even know the album is ready. He knows she’d want you there, so here I am. Didn’t mean to disrupt. A driver will be here to pick you up at seven sharp.”
Stassi reluctantly took the box from his hands, and he nodded respectfully before walking away.
Friday nights were reserved for them. Demi and Charlie. It was their preferred movie night of choice, only tonight they weren’t alone.
DJ hadn’t said one word since they had arrived home and Charlie felt like a fish out of water as she moved around the kitchen, preparing movie snacks.
Demi seemed unbothered by the silence, but Charlie felt like DJ’s refusal to take off his coat, and the sliding of his finger down his iPhone was a declaration of war.
He wasn’t comfortable, and Charlie was unsettled.
“I can hang up your coat, DJ,” she offered.
“I’m good,” he answered without looking at her.
Demi walked into the room. “Boy, take off your coat and hang it in the front closet.” DJ lifted from the couch and did as he was told, bypassing his dad and getting a head rustle along the way.
Charlie took a deep breath. This kid was practically an alien species to her.
She didn’t know how to nurture a kid. She had just murdered a pothos plant the week before; how was she supposed to keep Demi’s kid alive?
Her anxiety had her overthinking. She hadn’t considered DJ when she had accepted Demi’s proposal.
She had been so caught up in the love of this man, and they had moved so fast that she never considered all that came with him.
Can I do this?
“He don’t bite, Bird,” Demi whispered as he walked by her and into the kitchen. “Yo, kiddo, you hungry?”
“I could eat,” DJ responded.
“How about pizza?” Charlie added. “We do movie night on Fridays, DJ. You want to pick a movie for the lineup?”
“Eh,” DJ responded. His eyes had to be stuck in one place because he hadn’t given her eye contact yet. “I don’t really like pizza like that.”
“Boy, get your ass over here,” Demi interrupted. “Be cool, aight? I know you got some steam on your chest, and I’m willing to take all the shots, but be kind to her. She really likes you, man. Give her a chance.”
“Demi, it’s okay. Pizza does sound blah,” she said to DJ. “What about pancakes?”
“It’s nighttime,” DJ protested, looking up at his dad.
Demi shrugged.
“Who says you can’t eat pancakes at night?” Charlie smiled. “And, I mean, the good kind. Homemade with chocolate chips and whip cream on top.”
A stubborn smile snuck out, and Charlie felt like she had scored a jump shot.
“That’s super weird, but if you say so,” DJ replied stubbornly.
“I say so,” Charlie insisted. “Only thing is, I’ma need your help. Is that cool? You know how to measure?”
“Yeah, I guess I can do that,” DJ stated.
“Maybe while we’re making the food, your dad can go choose the movie?” Charlie proposed.
“Mann, he be picking weak movies.” DJ shook his head.
Charlie laughed, and Demi shook his head.
“You can pick, man. Whatever you want at my house,” Demi said, yielding.
Charlie and Demi knew how important it was for DJ to feel like he had a place and a say in their home.
This was his home too, and Charlie didn’t want him to feel displaced when he spent time there.
Marvel had been the preference, and pancakes accompanied the entertainment. DJ tried to explain the entire Marvel universe to his dad. Charlie sat there watching Demi listen for the entire three-hour movie.
He’s an amazing father, she thought. No wonder he wants more kids.
Feeling as if she was a third wheel, she picked up the empty bowls of popcorn and the empty cans of soda to make an excuse to retreat.
She left the stuff on the kitchen counter, knowing that Demi would clean up from top to bottom before he went to bed anyway.
As she walked away, their laughter echoed behind her.
She didn’t want to interrupt their time together.
Demi rarely felt this light, and she wanted him to enjoy the carefree essence of his child.
It was likely the only one he would ever have, at least for a while.
Hours passed before she felt the weight of Demi’s body sink into the mattress.
“He finally fell asleep, huh?” Charlie whispered without opening her eyes. His rough hand cupped her face, and she scooted closer to him, absorbing into his body.
“Boy can stay up all night,” Demi mumbled. “I had to clean up his mess, and that kitchen that you left tore up.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, half-asleep.
“Messy-ass,” Demi said, kissing her nose, then her lips, then nuzzling her neck. “How you feel about him staying the whole weekend? I want him to get used to you, to love you like I love you. This the first time he’s really said more than a few words to you.”
“Day mentioned something about a late session tomorrow,” Charlie said. “I mean, he can come, but will he be into it? Sessions are long. He might get bored.”
Demi hadn’t thought of Charlie’s surprise listening party, but there was no reason why he couldn’t pull off both. “Boy been around music his entire life. He’ll surive a studio session. It won’t be his first or his last. Now, sing a nigga a song.”
Charlie giggled. “I’m sleepy, Demi,” she whined.
“I want to be sleepy too, and you know I ain’t sleeping if you don’t sing a nigga to sleep,” he mumbled while seducing her neck with the softest kisses she had ever felt. He palmed her breasts, one then the other.
“This my pussy?” He asked. “Mmm, hmm,” she moaned, eyes still closed and forehead creased in pleasure as her back arched.
“It’s mine, but you can have a li’l bit,” she teased. “If you promise to eat it right.”
Her response amused him to chuckles, and he turned on his back.
“Come get comfortable, Bird,” he said.
Charlie was wide awake now, and she straddled his body. He was so damn wide and strong that her thighs were stretched to the max.
Demi rolled up out of bed, carrying her with him, straight into the bathroom. She knew before he pushed open the shower door where they were headed. Water on, back against the wall, Demi on one knee.
“Oh my god.”
Charlie died twice when he put his mouth on her.
Demi had his quirks about sex because he hated to be touched, but with Charlie, in the safety of a clean shower, with the reassurance of a clean body, he tested every limit.
She had never had her pussy devoured the way Demi did it.
He didn’t lick; he sucked her clit so good that Charlie lost her mind.
She thought she might knock his teeth out the way she rode his face.
Demi took a seat on the bench inside the shower and pulled Charlie onto him.
Dick should never be so good. It wasn’t supposed to be this lethal.
She hadn’t even known it could get this hard, that it could pulse this good, that it could stroke so deep before him.
She rode him on her tiptoes because she couldn’t stop them from curling while holding onto his neck.
Their passion fogged the bathroom as her cries wailed in the air.
“Fuck, Bird. Fuckkk my life, motherfuck, girl,” Demi groaned. He gripped her ass and slammed her petite body onto his dick.
“I’m cumming,” she called out. “Demi, I’m cumming so good on this dick, baby.”
“Yes the fuck you are.” He was so appreciative, and he watched as her body shuddered and he pumped his soul into her.
It was the longest nut of his life, and he picked her up, spent as he carried her back to the stream of water.
“That was so good,” she panted.
“You tryna kill me.”
She hollered, and he did too as he pressed his forehead against hers while letting the shower cleanse them.
As always, he washed her first, grabbing a new towel because Demi never washed with the same cloth twice.
When he was done with her, he replaced the towel and washed himself.
She was back in bed and fading fast before he finally emerged.
The scent of Pinesol followed him into the room because he had cleaned the entire bathroom before calling it done.
“You’re so OCD,” she whispered while hugging her pillow.
He ignored her and climbed in bed beside her, appreciating the fact that she had changed the sheets before he had emerged.
“I love you,” he said.