Book Bae

1. Micaiah Jamison Livingstone

AKA MIKE JAMISON AND MJ STONE

“Sasha was like a hit that I had to have. She was a bad habit, a routine that was easy and convenient for me, but together, we were toxic.” – Love No Limit, MJ Stone

“Woo-hoo! Let’s give it up for Chris and Bleu!” Arabella shouted, leading the guests in a polite clap as tonight’s celebrity performers ended their last duet.

I glanced to my right where Arabella’s petite frame had just climbed up on a chair.

At five-one, she was exactly a little over one foot shorter than I was.

Her curves were perfect for her diminutive frame.

Arabella was a beautiful woman, who had sparkling, dark brown eyes, flawless, golden skin, heart-shaped, pouty lips, and a million-dollar smile, which she flashed at me now.

Tonight, she wore a floral-print wrap dress in shades of mauve, orange, and pink.

It accentuated her curves and stopped mid-thigh to show off her toned legs.

The pair of pink high heels she wore boosted her ass in a way that drew all the men’s eyes to it.

She had tamed her thick, inky black curls into a chignon at the nape of her neck.

I knew that I would fuck that shit up tonight.

I liked her hair wild and spread out like a cloud of black silk on my pillows.

Yet, as much as I loved all those things about her, I couldn’t stand her. She was beautiful but ruthless, she was intelligent but manipulative, and she was talented but delusional.

“Let’s toast it up for the man of the hour. With his fourth seven-figure book deal, he is a phenomenon in the black literary world already, but tonight, we have the exciting news that his book Love You Hard is being considered for a movie deal!” Arabella announced excitedly.

My face grew warm, and my jaws clenched, but outwardly, I smiled and raised my glass with a quick head nod.

Everyone in the room clapped loudly, and my parents and siblings all beamed proudly back at me.

Mason Baxter-Ames, my best friend and the founder of MBA Security, placed two fingers between his lips and released a shrill whistle.

My good friends, Lance Dawson, CEO of SpecWare, a software engineering company, and Xavier Valentine, a wealthy, smart, but shrewd defense attorney, both released loud barks.

Their behavior was displayed more to annoy Arabella than it was to cheer for me, though I knew they were proud of me. They always had been, and they always would be.

Arabella Atkinson was not only my literary agent, but she was also wife number two. I had three of them, all exes, and they were all hell on wheels; well, not the first one, Gemma Tyrone, but that was another story.

Arabella was very controlling, and she had a certain aura she liked for me to portray, not only in the literary world but also in my social life. She often did not think that Xae and Lance fit into that narrative, and they didn’t give a shit what she thought.

Despite how they felt about each other, they had all been able to come together for my good for tonight’s party, which she hosted in the two-story library of my home.

Everyone she extended an invite to had shown up.

The guest list included my parents; my sisters, Dawn, Brooke, and Tamar; and my brothers, Joshua and Noah.

In addition to my family and friends, there were thirty industry professionals, which included other agents, authors, and editors, along with famed R&B singers, Chris Perry and Bleu Harmony.

Everyone had laughed and had a good time all evening, and everyone’s attention was now on me.

I was comfortable enough in the spotlight when I needed to be.

What I wasn’t comfortable with was Arabella telling my business down to the details of the figures for the book deals.

Yeah, that shit could be found out eventually, but I never flaunted it.

I was humble, for the most part, and I didn’t need anyone else doing the bragging for me.

I believed in moving in silence and letting people see the evidence of my hard work.

After everyone finished cheering and congratulating me, Arabella invited them to say a few words about what I meant to them or how they met me. I listened as everyone took turns sharing their stories, some funny, some heartwarming, others interesting.

“I met Micaiah eleven years ago at a writers’ convention where he first pitched Blood in the Delta, and I turned it down. I told him to come back to me when he had found his voice,” Evan Boatwright, an agent, shared.

“That was probably the biggest regret of your life, I’ll bet,” Lyndon Carter, an author, declared.

“Not only that, but it’s the biggest nightmare I have almost every night. I swear I wake up praying it was all a bad dream and that he hasn’t approached me yet, especially when the kids’ college tuition comes due,” Evan replied, causing everyone to laugh.

“It’s all good, Evan. I found someone who believed in my dream,” I teased as Arabella found her way to my side. I wrapped my arm around her and held my glass aloft. “Here’s to bad decisions,” I proclaimed, causing everyone else to laugh and Evan to shake his head in good nature.

I was sure no one noticed the squeeze I gave Arabella.

“But, despite my poor decision, it feels good to be counted among your friends. To good friends,” Evan remarked.

Everyone held their glasses up as Evan did.

“The best!” Mason shouted.

“Good friends,” everyone else chimed in.

As the stories concluded, I turned to Arabella. “My parents look like they’re ready to head out for the night. It’s been a long evening. Let me see them off,” I stated.

“Surely they know the way out,” she replied dryly.

“Arabella,” I growled low enough for her ears only.

She shrugged and twisted her lips. “Okay, I’ll wrap up everyone else.”

I nodded and headed in my parents’ direction near the piano by the large bay windows. My siblings stood around my parents all chatting at once.

“Thank y’all for coming out tonight. I appreciate y’all,” I stated, pulling my mother in for a hug and kiss.

“Always, baby. We will always be your first and biggest fans,” my mother, Gabriella Livingstone, professed, cradling my face with her hands and then kissing both my cheeks.

“Keep your head right at all times, Son, and keep it on a swivel. You may be upping the level of the game, but niggas gon’ always be niggas, Black or white.

Stay true to your craft, your heart, your family, and your soul.

You never know who you can trust around you,” my pops, Thomas Livingstone, stated, dapping me up and giving me a side-armed hug.

I kissed his cheek. “You already know, old man. Take care of pretty woman, and I’ll be chatting y’all up in the morning.”

“Hmph,” Mama muttered, and I knew she was on one. I was going to ignore it, but, of course, my messy baby sister, Tamar, wasn’t.

“What is it, Mama?” Tamar asked, smirking.

“I doubt he’ll be calling anyone in the morning. Anytime that woman gets her claws in him, we don’t hear from him for at least a couple of days,” Mama muttered, slanting her gaze at Arabella.

“Mama, come on. Go easy on Bell,” I retorted.

Mama felt like Arabella was the reason my first marriage failed and that she took advantage of me when I was most vulnerable.

“Go easy? She needs to go easy. That woman is like a raptor once she gets her claws in you. She’s tried to push everyone who means anything to you out of your life, including your friends,” she declared, pointing at Mason, Xavier, and Lance.

“Mama, in all fairness, it was Bell who first believed in him as an agent and got him several big deals and this movie project. If it wasn’t for her, where would Micky be?” my oldest sister, Dawn asked, calling me by my childhood nickname.

“That’s right, Mama. If it weren’t for that vulture, Micky would still be out here working hard like us common folks. Big monaayy!” my big sister Brooke interjected sassily, rolling her eyes at me.

“All right. Keep it up. That same big money bought you the salon of your dreams,” I replied.

“It did. It did. I’ma get back in my own lane. I see what you did there,” Brooke responded, giving me the double finger point after pointing at her eyes.

“Y’all wildin’ up in here tonight. Aye, big money, I’m ’bout to bounce. I’ma get up with you later. I got a little honey waiting for me at her place, and I need to put her to bed,” my little brother, Noah, who was eleven years younger than me, announced as he dapped me up.

“You need to stop sleeping with all those little girls and settle down with a good one,” Dawn chided as I walked my family out of the living room and down the hall to the front door.

“Man, I’m only twenty-seven. What I look like not living my best life right now? I got my whole life ahead of me,” Noah declared.

“Unless you get hooked up with a crazy woman who might decide to slash your tires, put sugar in your tank, douse your clothes with olive oil and garlic, post nude pictures of you anonymously all over social media, and email your manager pictures of you at the ball game, in bed screwing a woman who ain’t your girlfriend, and making it rain at the strip club when you was supposed to be at home sick from work, but at least she didn’t end your life prematurely because you screwed around with her heart,” Tamar warned.

“The fuck?” Mama, Dawn, and Brooke all replied at once.

“Ladies, language.” My father reprimanded my sisters, but not my mother.

“Always looking at things from the wrong angle, Tae,” Noah replied.

“Men always sticking their wanker in the wrong hole, Noah,” Tamar countered.

“Would you two stop arguing? That’s all you ever do,” my middle brother, Joshua, declared.

“It’s all in good fun, big bro,” Tamar declared with a pout.

I hugged and kissed everyone good night and watched as my siblings all climbed in their individual cars, and my parents climbed in the car service I had hired for them for tonight.