Chapter 15 #3
He ordered for us—veal parm for me, because it was my favorite, and a lasagna for him.
“So,” he said, leaning back after the waiter left. “What’s the infamous Juicy J been up to these last ten years?” he asked. “You were at the hospital when I picked you up—I’m guessing you finished nursing school?”
“Yeah, I finished a year after…” I trailed off awkwardly.
“I got locked up, Jas. We don’t have to dance around it,” he said with a soft shrug. “But I’m glad you finished school. That’s what’s up. How’d you end up in Atlanta?”
“Travel nursing,” I said. “The contracts down here pay triple what I was making at home, and honestly, I wanted to see what living outside of Queens was like.”
“I can dig it.” He replied, nodding.
He swirled his drink and tilted his head. “You got any idea who might’ve done that shit to your car?”
Of course, I spent most of the night trying to figure out who’d be crazy enough to do something so serious, and my mind kept going back to Princess—Cash’s ex-jumpoff.
I don’t know how she’d find out anything about me, but it seemed like when you moved in the circles Cash did, you could find out anything you wanted to for a price.
Still, I wasn’t trying to go down the rabbit hole of the mess that had taken over my life. It was easier to pretend that it was just a random act of vandalism, even though I knew better.
“Nope,” I said tightly.
“You think it has anything to do with your dude?” he asked as he took a sip of his drink. “What was his name—Cash?”
I ran my tongue across my teeth. “Why would it have anything to do with him?”
He leaned back, one brow raised. “For real, Jas? I know you know what that nigga’s into.”
“And how would you know?”
Marcus laughed. “C’mon, Juicy. You see the whip. You already know what kind of time I’m on. I know all about Money Banks.”
A chill crept up my spine.
“Cash and I weren’t serious,” I said, straightening in my seat. “And we’re not even talking right now. So, I don’t know why anybody would be worried about me.”
The waiter appeared to let us know our food would be out soon. I offered a small smile and took it as an out.
“I’ll be back,” I told Marcus, already on my feet. I just needed a minute to breathe and get my head right.
I headed straight for the restroom and handled my business quickly, coaching myself through a few deep breaths. I was mid-exhale when I heard the door swing open behind me.
“I thought that was you.”
I glanced up in the mirror and immediately rolled my eyes.
Princess.
She walked in, her honey-blonde boho braids cascading down her back. I looked her up and down, my gaze stopping at the slight swell of her stomach in her tight maxi dress.
“I see your face healed,” I said coolly as I reached for a paper towel.
She let out a short laugh. “That’s cute. But I’m good—healed and still the prettiest bitch in the room.”
She stepped closer, that smug little smirk still on her face. “Funny how things fall into place… especially when you’re carrying the right man’s baby.”
My stomach flipped as bile crept up my throat. Everything clicked.
That’s why I hadn’t heard from Cash.
He knew. That fuck nigga knew and was too much of a coward to say anything.
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to react. “Do you see me here with Cash? What the fuck does any of this have to do with me?” I tossed the paper towel in the trash. “I already knocked you on your ass for talking to me sideways. Keep talking, and I’ll do it again.”
“And I’ll have your ass locked up,” she snapped. “Who’s gonna save you now?”
She brushed past me into the stall and left me standing there. The little bit of hope I’d been holding onto about me and Cash? Poof. Gone. I wasn’t about to be caught up in some baby mama bullshit.
I fixed my face on the walk back to the table, holding my chin up.
It has nothing to do with me.
He’s not my man.
They were messing around before me.
Fuck. Him.
None of that settled the tight knot in my stomach.
Marcus glanced up from his phone as I sat. The food had arrived while I was gone, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat.
“Everything okay?” he asked, cutting into his lasagna.
I ran a hand through my hair. “I just lost my appetite out of nowhere,” I mumbled.
He frowned. “You sick? Need me to take you home?”
I shook my head quickly. Going home meant sitting with my thoughts. If I did that, I’d only end up calling Cash and cussing him out.
“I don’t want to go home,” I said, eyes still on my plate.
He set his fork down slowly. “So… what you tryna do?”
I looked up. “Let’s go back to your place.”
His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. “Bet.” He flagged down the waiter to box up the food.
Princess’s confession played on an endless loop the entire ride to the hotel. If she wasn’t pregnant, I swear I would’ve beat that stupid ass look off her face.
I ignored the alarm bells going off in my head as Marcus laced fingers through mine while we walked through the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton. Cash had made his decision, and I had made mine. Jasmine Miller was back outside.
I know it was childish and petty. I didn’t even want Marcus like that, but I wanted to have something over Cash—even if I’d regret it later.
The elevator doors opened to a huge suite. The living room alone was bigger than my entire Buckhead apartment, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Atlanta skyline. Marcus headed straight to the kitchenette. “You want anything to drink?”
“Whatever you’re having is fine,” I said, sinking into a plush couch.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “It’s strong. You sure you can handle it?”
“You’re asking this to the girl who used to throw back shots of 151 like water?” I countered with a playful smile.
He chuckled and took another glass from the cabinet. “Aight, big dog.”
He poured out our drinks from a black bottle with fancy gold trim. Whatever this was, it wasn’t cheap. He brought the glasses over and handed me one as he sat.
I tossed mine back and instantly regretted it. That shit felt like swallowing fire and sent me into a coughing fit.
“I told you,” Marcus said smugly, sipping his like it was juice.
“Whatever,” I croaked, motioning for more. He laughed and refilled my glass before pulling out a wooden box from the coffee table.
He sparked a pre-rolled blunt, took a long drag, then passed it to me.
I took a small pull as if I could somehow test its strength.
“Don’t act scared now,” Marcus teased. “You was just talking mad shit a minute ago.”
I shot him a look, holding the smoke in for a second, then exhaled slowly. “I got this.”
“Nah,” he shook his head, grinning. “You gotta take a real pull, mama. That shit gas.”
Rolling my eyes, I hit it harder. The smoke clawed at my lungs, burning and making my eyes water, but I swallowed the cough. I wasn’t about to have him clowning me.
“Here,” I said, passing the blunt back. “Happy now?”
He took it, holding it between his lips while he pulled out his phone. Love Calls by Kem filled the suite.
My hand flew to my mouth in an effort to hold back the giggle that bubbled up.
“Why you gigglin’?” he asked, taking another hit before stubbing it out.
“You,” I snorted, already high. “Kem? Really? You tryna set the mood and shit.”
“Man, whatever,” he said, pulling me closer by the thigh.
The giggles turned into hiccups, which made me laugh even harder. Tears streamed down my face as I bent over, trying to catch my breath.
“I’m so–hic—sorry,” I wheezed.
Marcus chuckled, reaching up to undo the bun his locs had been in all night. They spilled past his shoulders, somehow making his sharp features stand out more. I looked at him closely, trying to see if the boy I used to know was still in there somewhere.
“You silly as shit,” he said, brushing the tears off my cheeks with his thumb.
I leaned into his hand without thinking. That one little touch sent heat curling up my spine—way more than it should’ve. My laughter faded as I licked my lips, our eyes locking.
“You ever think about us?” he asked, voice distant.
I shrugged, my eyes drifting to the tattoos on his arms. Both were filled with intricately done portraits and bible passages, but what caught my attention were the flowers between them all.
“What kind of flower is this?” I asked, lightly running my fingers over one on his wrist.
He looked at me through heavy-lidded eyes. “Jasmine.”
I sucked in a sharp breath and dropped my hand into my lap like I’d touched something too hot.
“I thought about you a lot while I was locked up.”
“Mhm. I’m sure you did,” I murmured, ignoring the alarm bells ringing in the back of my head again. I wasn’t here to reminisce, and I most definitely wasn’t about to try and unpack why this nigga had jasmine flowers tattooed all over himself.
I climbed onto his lap and kissed him hard before he could say something corny and blow my high. The kiss was messy and hungry, fueled by the weed and the two shots coursing through my system. His hands slid up under my cardigan as I reached back to unhook my bra.
“Goddamn, Jas,” he breathed, eyes glued to my chest like he couldn’t believe I was real.
I let out a low hiss when his mouth closed around my nipple. He flicked it with his tongue, my back arching as he grazed it with his teeth. The weed had every nerve in my body lit up like Christmas.
Laughing, I gave him a gentle shove and fumbled with the button of my jeans. He helped me take them off, and the second I climbed back on his lap, his hand went straight to my panties.
“This shit still juicy as hell,” Marcus muttered, rubbing slow circles around my clit before sliding two fingers inside me.
“Shit,” I gasped, gripping his shoulders, grinding against his hand.
“I need to be in this pussy now,” he grunted.
I slid off him, panties hitting the floor as he pulled off his shirt and jeans. He snatched a condom from the box on the coffee table, ripped it open with his teeth, and rolled it on.
I closed my eyes and touched myself again, trying to ride the high I was feeling.
He slapped my hand away with a growl. “Nah. That’s mine.”
“Oh!” I yelped as he grabbed my legs and yanked me to the edge of the couch.
He bent to kiss me as he lined himself up with my entrance. I shuddered as he entered me slowly, savoring the feeling of him stretching me out.
“Fuuuck, ma,” he hissed, his locs brushing against my face as his head dropped. “This pussy still tight.”
I moaned, gripping his arms as he delivered steady, deep strokes, like he was tryna mark me.
My hand slid between my legs, and I started rubbing my clit hard, chasing my release.
Marcus grunted and grabbed my legs, pushing my knees to my chest and thrust harder.
I could tell he wasn’t about to last too much longer, and I damn sure wasn’t about to let him nut before me.
“Fuck!” I cried. My pussy clenched around him, another moan catching in my throat as I trembled underneath him.
“Shit, I’m about to nut,” he growled as he gave one last thrust before his whole body stiffened. A low moan came from him as he spilled into the condom and slumped against me, breathing hard.
He collapsed on top of me, chest heaving. Both of us were sweaty and breathless.
After a moment, he pulled out and disappeared down the hall. I lay there, naked, heart still pounding, but not from the afterglow of good dick. The petty sense of satisfaction never came.
It wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t Cash.
I got up, put on my cardigan, and followed the sound of running water to the bathroom. Marcus was already in there, wiping himself down with a washcloth.
“Can I crash here tonight?” I asked, grabbing a fresh washcloth from the counter.
“I didn’t think you were going anywhere,” he smirked, wrapping a towel around his waist. “You can sleep in one of my shirts,” he said, smacking my ass on the way out.
I washed up and wrapped myself in a towel, trying to ignore the unease in the pit of my stomach. I’d wanted this—I wanted Marcus in the moment.
“Good job, Jas,” I muttered to myself as I dried my face. I should’ve had him take me home.
In the bedroom, Marcus had left a plain white tee on the bed for me. I put it on and crawled into bed. He got in beside me, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“Thanks for letting me stay,” I mumbled, staring blankly at the wall.
“Mmm,” he hummed, already half asleep.
I lay there wide awake, listening to him snore, feeling fifty kinds of stupid. I’d used Marcus to get back at Cash and probably made things worse.