Chapter 11
Several Weeks Later . . .
After a taste of freedom and excitement with Righteous and Baxtown Iron, it feels excruciating to have to attend another mundane political fundraiser.
The only downside was Righteous’s attempt to shut down what we have going on.
I’m not worried about who that guy was or whatever he said about me, so Righteous shouldn’t either.
I’m pretty sure that guy knows like everyone else who my mother is, so the last thing I need to worry about is baseless threats.
I’m the daughter of Mayor Markia Owens, so I’m untouchable.
What’s more important is my required attendance at an event that will bore me to pieces.
Despite this being my norm for as long as Mom has been in office, I’m sick of suffering through these events.
It’s crazy that I’m in a full-blown relationship, and I can’t shout it from the rooftops.
Being with Righteous has been like that first breath after diving into a pool.
It makes my forced attendance feel like I’ve had a root canal during my monthly cycle.
My phone rings, and I roll my eyes when Mom’s face flashes on the screen.
“Good evening, Madam Mayor,” I taunt.
“I expect you to be on time tonight, Jariyah. It looks horrible for my daughter to waltz into the room after the start time. So please pretend like I raised you to be punctual. I don’t need the bad press,” Mom says.
I roll my eyes hard because Mom’s directive aggravates me to no end. The gala was the only event I didn’t arrive at on time. Now here she is on my line with pointless pleas for me to represent her satisfactorily.
“I hear you. Is there anything else you need, or was that all?”
“Don’t get cute with me, missy. I’m not one of your little friends.”
Don’t I know it.
“Understood. If that’s all, I need to run. I have several appointments to make before I can meet your standard of beauty.”
“Fine. I’ll see you later.” The beeps in my ear let me know that Mom is no longer on the line, and I sigh from the encounter.
Before I can put my phone down, it rings, and I’m seconds from ignoring the caller until I see Righteous’s name. A giddy feeling surges through my body, and a wide grin forms.
“Hello, handsome,” I purr.
“I just wanted to touch base with you. What’s good, Navae?”
There is something magical about hearing my man call me the name no one uses, and I can’t help but feel cherished.
“I’m about to get ready to leave home. I have a hair, nail, and wax appointment before I attend tonight’s boring fundraiser. I would much rather spend the evening with you.”
“What the fuck do you need a wax for?”
The growl in his question causes my pearl to smile and get excited.
“I know you heard me. Your ass better be talking about waxing your lip or chin.”
A giggle falls from my mouth before I can fully process the statement, because why on earth would I need to have my lip or chin waxed at twenty-nine?
“You clearly missed the landing strip on my pearl when we had sex. Hm. I guess I need to show you again so you can understand why my wax appointments are a must.”
“Skip your little shindig, and we can make something shake. Better yet, skip the appointment altogether. A little hair ain’t never been a problem for a nigga like me. I’ve been told that I’m a master at trimming hedges.”
A moan and shiver simultaneously make my willingness to give in easy and difficult, because I know Mom would kill me if I miss the fundraiser. A chime in my ear makes me pull my phone away to see the appointment reminder.
“How about I come to you as soon as I’m done? Where will you be?”
“Say less. I’ll be at the clubhouse. Send me a picture to hold me over.” Righteous doesn’t wait for my reply when he disconnects the call without another word.
A sneaky grin forms as my fingers glide over the keyboard before I hit send on the message I drafted.
Me:
Top or bottom lips? I don’t want to send the wrong visual.
Righteous:
Surprise me. Anything you send will have my dick hard and impatiently waiting.
Me:
Say less.
I giggle again after I send the message using the two-word response Righteous said to me moments ago.
Being with Righteous invigorates me and gives me the motivation I need to grab my purse and keys and leave my apartment.
Thanks to Righteous, I have an extra pep in my steps that carries me from my floor to the parking garage.
The amount of hours it takes for me to prep, get dolled up in another flowing gown, and then be out the door again to meet Mom’s arrival time demands should be a case study.
But I do it in a practiced manner just so I don’t have to hear Mom’s mouth again.
With a false exterior of exuberance, I hand my keys to the valet and walk inside the hotel where tonight’s festivities are about to take place.
The hotel is older and one that Mom has used for another one of her events.
According to her, the eclectic décor speaks to old bones with a great foundation that should be shown off.
The light music that flows around the room isn’t as bad as the classical music Mom generally has the hired band play, so I’m happy about that.
A graceful smile slides into place when I reach the ballroom.
The gold elements seem to subtly cascade through the room in a warm glow.
The chandelier’s shimmering lights create an ambience that doesn’t feel overdone.
There is a makeshift dance floor where the wood shines like a new penny.
Then there are strategically placed tables that form a U shape around the room.
The room bustles with activity as waitstaff move around with trays of what I’m sure is champagne.
A genuine smile slides into place at the sight of Dad, and I head toward him.
“Good evening, kind sir,” I tease when I reach Dad as he takes a flute from one of the passing waiters.
“Hello, baby girl. I’m glad that you made it on time. Your mother has spent ten minutes bending my ear about you, giving her reasons to color her hair before her usual time.” Dad smiles before he takes a sip from his glass.
“I’m sure she was. But here I am, and on time just as she requested.” I do a twirl that causes a low chuckle from Dad.
“That’s my girl. Listen, I’m planning to have a headache later. It’ll be our excuse to get out of here, because I have a game to watch. I’m also sure you would rather be anywhere else.”
Mhm. Under my man in the throes of bliss that this little soiree can’t possibly provide.
“You have no idea. I’ll take my cue from you. In the meantime, let me go find your wife so she can rope me into another meaningless matchmaking attempt.” With the wave of my fingers, I leave Dad as my eyes roam the room in search of Mom.
I give a fake finger wave to several of the hopefuls that Mom has sent my way during a few of these shindigs.
My eyes land on Mom, who seems engaged in a serious conversation by her uptight posture and animated movements.
There are three men and two women around her who seem to be hanging on to her every word.
Curiosity increases my steps as I move swiftly toward the group.
But my steps dang near falter when I hear the words Mom speaks.
“Yes. My team and I are working on the initiative to clean up these streets. I’m sick and tired of those gangs causing strife around my city. I don’t care if I have to exercise all of my power; I’m going to rid the city of every last one of them,” Mom rants.
My blood and steps freeze as I fight not to openly react to what I’m overhearing.
Mom’s desire to set her sights on motorcycle groups directly affects me, given my new relationship with Righteous.
The hairs on my arms rise, and my stomach clenches at the thought of what this initiative will mean for Baxtown Iron.
“Let me know how I can be of assistance, Madam Mayor. It’s been a long time coming, and I’m here for it. Those gang members are unnecessary menaces that our fine city doesn’t need,” one of the men cosigns, and my eyes land on him to see the cheesy smirk he wears.
“I certainly will. The RICO case I’m building on those clubs might need a little more spice to them.” Mom chuckles.
“Oh, you’re serious about this then, huh?” one of the women asks.
“Yes, ma’am. I have it on good authority that my efforts have to be professional and personal.” Something in Mom’s last word causes a shiver of panic to slide down my back.
Oh God! Does she know about Righteous and me?
“Good evening, Ms. Jariyah.”
I dang near jump out of my skin when the male voice sounds from behind me. It not only shocks me but also causes Mom and the people around her to turn toward me.
“Oh, I . . . uh . . . excuse me. I was just coming to say hello.” My brain spirals as I watch the inquisitive eyes of Mom and her constituents.
I feel like I’m coming out of a fog from the information Mom has just shared, and Preston catches me off guard. The Cheshire grin he’s wearing makes my skin crawl as it feels loaded with an unspoken motive.
“Good evening, Jariyah. Everyone, I’m sure you all know my daughter.” Mom smiles. The problem with it is that it doesn’t reach her eyes, and it makes my nerves jittery.
The various greetings from the gathering people don’t settle my anxiety, and I fight not to react when I feel Preston’s hand on my lower back.
“I don’t want to interrupt your conversation. I’m going to leave you to it,” I say.
“Oh, it’s okay, dear. I was just telling them that I’m going to be working on eradicating the city of the likes of gangs like Iron Baxtown or whatever they call themselves.” Mom sneers and gives me a pointed stare of rebuke.
Shit! She knows. Oh God! Oh God! I gotta warn Righteous.
“Oh, . . . okay. I’ll leave you to it,” I mumble.
“I would like a word with Jariyah if you don’t mind me stealing her, Madam Mayor,” Preston says in a cheery voice that causes me to bite my inner cheek to prevent the frown I want to form.
Lord, please. I have to get out of here. I need to give Righteous a heads-up. This news isn’t good. Oh my gosh.
My mind reels, and I don’t hear Mom’s reply as Preston leads me away from the group. His hand on my back makes me want to jerk away and put some distance between us. Preston’s words are a whisper as he leads me further away.
“I was wondering why you didn’t return to that other event when you and I were supposed to have a discussion. Imagine my surprise when I saw you climb on the back of that thug’s motorbike.”
I gasp, and my feet stop as I turn to look at Preston, whose eyes sparkle with merriment. The smug grin makes my hand itch to slap it off as he continues speaking.
“It would be a shame for the mayor to find out that her beloved daughter has been schmoozing with the very gang she wants to wipe out. After overhearing that conversation, I’ve come up with a suggestion that would benefit both of us. Do you want to hear it?”
Now it’s my time to react as I cross my arms over my chest and stare daggers into this man who seems to employ his blackmail skills.
“I said, do you want to hear it?” Preston asks, and his eyes pinch as they turn stormy with fury.
“What?”
“Either date me, or I’ll tell your mother what you’ve been up to.”
A humorless chuckle falls from my lips as I stare at this weak man who thinks I’m willing to let him box me into a corner.
“Let me think about it.”
“Don’t take too long.” Preston walks away like a prep school jock who’s been chosen for the school’s chess team.
A sense of urgency hits me like a tidal wave, and without explanation, I head toward the exit.
My mind is on Righteous and his club because I must ensure he doesn’t get blindsided by Mom’s plan.
It takes me less than fifteen minutes to get my car from the valet and speed toward the Baxtown Iron clubhouse.
I’m so preoccupied with my destination that I don’t realize that someone is behind me until it’s too late.
*boom*
I scream, and my head jerks when someone rams into the bumper of my SUV. I look into the rearview mirror and tighten my grip on the steering wheel. A black van without headlights is right behind me and rams me again.
“Ah!” My heart leaps, and my pulse races when I hit a hole in the road, and my vehicle swerves to the right. “Oh God! I can’t die like this. Please,” I plead as tears cascade down my face.
The sound of loud motorcycles makes my eyes balloon as they try to flank my vehicle on both sides.
The van is still behind me, and I realize that they’re all together.
I mash my foot on the gas, and my SUV lurches forward as I drive like I’m in an audition for a competitive race.
When I’m near the area where Baxtown Iron is located, the van and motorcycles turn off, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
But my speed doesn’t slow as my urgency to reach Righteous overwhelms me.
The sight of the Baxtown Iron logo makes me jump the curb and nearly hit the bikes lining the sidewalk.
I quickly throw the gear in park, grab my purse, and make a beeline for the front entrance that’s vacant of anyone at the door like the previous times I was here. I turn the knob and damn near rip my wrist off when it doesn’t budge.
“Oh God!” I bang repeatedly on the steel door as my gaze shifts left to right on the street.
My heart beats a thousand miles a minute as I wait for someone to come to the door.
Tears continuously trickle down my face and cause my vision to become blurry.
But my hand bangs on the door, desperate for someone to help me.
I almost fall when the door suddenly opens, and I’m met with hard eyes and a deep snarl.
“Shit! Yo, Righteous,” the man says and looks over his shoulder.
His distraction is my access as I push through the door, and my eyes bounce left to right in search of my man.
The minute Righteous’s tall frame comes into view, I run and jump into his arms before a loud sob from my diaphragm echoes around the room.
All conversation ceases, but all I can do is hold onto Righteous and pray that he doesn’t let me go.
I guess the threat was real. God, help me!