Sterling #3
The house was set back off of the street and it had the type of charm that only older homes had.
I wasn’t sure what type of updates had been made to this place, but it was full of character.
The front was made of lighter-colored brick that was painted over or over-mortared to give a creamy cast to the stone.
The roof was dark with a steep pitch to the room that gave it an immediate presence.
The home snaked around the property in several directions and I had to wonder how big it actually was.
There was a hard stone driveway and I couldn’t tell if it was slate or some other stacking stone.
Combing the sheer size with the mature landscaping and the amount of property the home looked extremely stately. And private.
That, I could get with.
I rang the doorbell that was ornate enough to be featured next to the large wooden double doors that were the front entrance.
I had to walk under an arched stone entrance to the porch and the door mirrored the same shape.
Two large black iron lanterns hung on either side of the door, matching the ones that were on either side of the arched stone entrance.
Whoever designed this place took a lot of pride in it and it showed as every detail blended seamlessly with another.
When the door opened I almost lost my ability to breathe. The man in front of me was young, fine as hell and not at all what I was expecting.
“Hello, my name is Sterling Williamson, I’m here to meet Mr. Briggs.”
“Nah, you here fa me.” His eyes flickered up and down before he seemed to remember himself and stood up straight.
He was dressed casually with his longish curly hair brushed back off of his face.
Deep brown skin the color of agave nectar was poured over a frame that had to have formed from premium genetics and performance-enhancing drugs.
He looked to be muscle on muscle and I wasn’t sure how that was possible.
I adjusted my tote on my shoulder and tried not to look as uncomfortable as I felt. “I’m sorry I don’t understand.”
“My agent put the request in through your agency and used her last name. Of course, that ain’t even her last name anymore so…” He chuckled like there was some type of internal joke but his acknowledgment of deceit had me taking a step back.
“Okay, wait, my boss said nothing like this was going on. Why the fake name or all the subterfuge?” I wanted to back away but I had nowhere to run.
“My name is Money.”
I blinked twice waiting on him to elaborate but he didn’t. “Pleased to meet you but that doesn’t answer my question.”
“I’m a professional football player.” His brows shot up as if he were waiting for my brain to make a connection that just wasn’t there.
“Again, my question hasn’t been answered.”
“Listen, if you want answers just come inside—”
I laughed because he had me completely fucked up. “Sir, I am a woman who spent her childhood watching Forensic Files, ID Channel and allowed FBI Files reruns to lull me to sleep. I’m not just stepping into anybody’s house without knowing what they’re about.”
“Lady, you came to my house.” He was smiling now as though my refusal was funny to him. Dimples. He had dimples. Favor is not fair.
“Lady? Are you trying to say I’m old?” I wasn’t trying to flirt with this fine ass…man? Young man? He had a childlike face about him so I couldn’t be sure how old he was.
“You know what? I don’t have time for this.” The playfulness seemed to be sucked out of him the second he realized he was smiling. He pulled out his phone and I did the same, trying to reach out to my cousin.
“Mr. Lowry?” My call must’ve connected quicker than his because he was still silent and staring directly into my mouth. I used my cousin’s last name so he understood something was wrong.
“Are you there? I have the client on the other line—”
“No, you have his agent on the other line I’m assuming?”
“Yes. What have you done?” The way he hissed at me had me thinking I’d messed something up but his ass had clearly left out some information. With a glance, I saw that Money had stepped back into his empty foyer and was now speaking to someone on the phone.
“I haven’t done anything. I was told I was here to meet someone by the last name Briggs and this man ain’t them.”
“She is behind schedule but will be there within a few minutes. She said she is coming through the security gate right now.”
I rolled my eyes because this could’ve been conveyed with a text message to avoid confusion. “Fine. But as soon as I’m done you and I need to talk.”
“Whatever, Starbright. I saved you from having to hang around your mama for the next four months. If anything, you owe me.” I could almost hear the mocking grin on his face before he hung up the phone.
He knew calling me Starbright was going to get to me.
It was a nickname he gave me years ago as a play on my name.
He said my spirit shone as bright as the stars and I’d been named correctly.
I wanted to yell but I gripped the air angrily, trying to calm myself down.
“You good?”
Shit. Just that fast, I forgot I was supposed to be making a good impression on this man because I needed a job.
If I didn’t get this one I could easily pick up another assignment, but I couldn’t deny that my interest was piqued now about this entire situation.
The idea of helping a medically fragile baby tugged at my heart.
And for her to be a little Black girl had me feeling immediately protective.
“I’m fine. My cousin is the owner of the agency, and he takes discretion to new levels. He didn’t provide me with all the details on what I would be out here for so I’m a little thrown off. Forgive my impertinence when you opened the door.”
“Impertinence. Yeah, if you're walking around spouting SAT words you’ll work out just fine. Are you good to come in? My agent is pulling up the drive.” He pointed behind me and I watched as a massive black luxury SUV that looked like it could fit twelve people pulled up and parked.
The woman who stepped out was stunning and I could tell that despite how beautiful she was, she was about her business.
The strut she had was one of knowing she was about to accomplish her goals and anyone who thought they were going to get in her way needed to be prepared to take an L.
She made her way up the steps with a wide smile on her face as she extended her hand to me.
The outfit she wore was from Patricia Warren’s private label and was one that very few people had access to.
I was only privy to it because of my family so now I was interested in who this woman was.
“Good morning! I’m pleased to meet you. Sterling Williamson, correct?” She stuck her hand out so confidently I knew that this woman had probably had the world in her palm for her entire life. I took it and her squeeze was firm but professionally inviting.
“Yes, I’m Sterling.”
“I apologize for not being here. A woman isn’t about to walk into some strange man’s house she doesn’t know.
I needed to drop something off to my sister and it took longer than I expected.
I’m Billy Briggs-Grayson.” She had heterochromia that seemed to make her eyes dance when she spoke.
Her smile was warm despite her all-business aura.
I shot a look at my potential employer that screamed I TOLD YOU SO. He just shook his head and took a step back, opening up the door.
“Now that you’re here to give her peace of mind, can we please stop putting my business out for my neighbors?”
“Hush up, Money. Nobody can even see your front door from the street. Smart move, by the way. Let’s get business taken care of.
You don’t have long before you’re going to need to get her from the hospital.
The last thing we want to do is impede your ability to get her or live life. That’s where Sterling comes in, right?”
She was slipping off her shoes and speaking as if she were right at home in his house.
I knew they didn’t have that kind of relationship because despite her Black not cracking; she carried herself like she was older than him.
Add that to the large wedding set on her left finger that had to total close to twelve carats, she struck me as more of his sister.
I’d followed behind them, keeping my shoes on and trying not to pay attention to his home.
It was nice, but had a bachelor air to it.
I could tell when someone had new money because they either did too much trying to fit in or clung too closely to their past taste to prove they hadn’t changed.
This man was the latter. He had leather furniture in his formal living room and a TV that was probably taller than me over his fireplace.
I understood trying to find your style when you were out on your own.
I’d decorated my house to suit what I thought were my tastes but it turned out to be a mini replica of my childhood home.
It wasn’t until my mother came over and approved of everything I’d done that I realized nothing in it had been to my taste.
I’d selected everything with her in my head telling me what was right and wrong.
I wanted to rip everything out and start all over again when I was done with this contract.
The rest of the house seemed to echo with emptiness.
It was like the only furniture he had was the couch and the TV.
He was either house poor or hadn’t bothered to put anything in here.
Even if he’d just moved in, surely he had furniture from his last place.
Maybe this is his first season. He looks very young.