6. Ozyris Brentley
“Aye, everybody get the fuck out. Give me the room,” I ordered as soon as I stepped out of the booth, Ginger so close behind me she damn near tripped me.
The cameras were still rolling, but the documentary crew knew how I moved by now.
When I said I needed space, that meant back the fuck up until I said otherwise.
The whole purpose of the weekend was to give the winners a look into my real life, but some shit didn’t need to be shown.
Especially not Ginger throwing another one of her fits.
The shit was tiring.
Within seconds, it was only me and Ginger standing there.
As soon as the door closed, I turned around and grabbed her by the neck, pressing her back against the wall before she could fix her mouth to say anything else. Her eyes widened, but not out of fear. She liked when I got rough with her.
That was part of the problem.
She could never tell when I was actually pissed because everything I did turned her on.
“What the fuck is your problem?” I asked, my face close to hers.
Her lips parted before she bit down on the bottom one, fighting a smile. I stared at her for another second before dropping my hand and shaking my head, stepping back.
“Nah, don’t do that shit. I’m serious.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Gin, why the fuck would you try to start an argument in front of the cameras? In front of my fans and everybody else? Then what was that slick-ass shit you said to Noree?”
Just saying her name had the image of her popping back into my head.
She had pretty brown skin that looked smooth enough to lick, with a body that had been distracting the fuck out of me from the second I laid eyes on her. She was thick everywhere she needed to be, too. Titties sitting right with wide hips. She was the perfect height, too.
Damn.
BBW’s weren’t normally my type. I’d never dealt with a big girl before, not because I had anything against them.
It was just that most of the women who threw themselves at me or got brought around all looked the same: slim, tiny waists, flat stomachs, fake asses, fake titties, and barely enough personality to hold my attention.
I could tell Noree wasn’t built like none of them.
Her body was real on some grown-woman type shit, and it looked soft as hell. Her waist dipped in so deep between all those curves it had me wondering what the fuck it’d feel like to hold her.
And that ass? Man.
That shit had been looking so pretty in what she had on that I wanted to palm it the second she turned her back to me.
Then she opened her mouth and sang. That voice caught a nigga completely off guard.
I knew good singing. I had spent over ten years around some of the most talented singers in the industry. I knew when somebody could hold a note, and I knew when somebody had something that couldn’t be taught.
Noree had something special, and I was fucking with it.
Her voice was soft but heavy at the same time. Then there was her face.
Pouty lips, brown eyes, and long nails painted red to match her sexy-ass toes because, yeah, I’d noticed those too. She smelled good as shit too, like vanilla and peaches.
Everything about her was just… right.
And the way she had been looking at me? That shit had me curious. I was intrigued, and I didn’t get intrigued often.
“What?” Ginger asked, folding her arms over her chest. “I was only telling the truth. That girl is big, and I’m sure she was probably excited about all the free food.”
“And?”
She blinked. “And what?”
“And what the fuck does her size have to do with anything? You don’t know her. She ain’t did shit to you.”
“I saw the way she was looking at you.” She smirked and rolled her eyes.
“She’s a fan, Gin. One of six people who won the weekend experience with me. Who the fuck else is she supposed to look at?”
“Well, she’s supposed to be looking at you like a fan, not like she wants to fuck you.”
I gave her a dry look and rubbed my hand down my face.
“You sound stupid as fuck. I ain’t gon’ lie.”
“I’m not stupid, Ozy. I know women, and I know you. You liked that shit.”
“I like women looking at me. That’s not exactly breaking news, Gin.” I shook my head.
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
I dragged my tongue across my teeth, already tired of the conversation.
“What I know is you came in there acting territorial over some shit that was never yours to begin with.”
Her whole face dropped like I’d knocked the wind out of her.
“Never mine?” she repeated, stepping toward me. “That’s really what you think?”
“Aye, move.” I pushed her back gently.
“After everything we do together?”
“What exactly do we do, Ginger?”
She stared at me like she couldn’t believe I asked.
“I’m around you all the damn time. I show up for every event, every appearance, every interview. I deal with the rumors, the blogs, and everybody picking apart everything I do because they think I’m your woman. Then I’m the one in your bed at night.”
“Nah… you in my bed some nights,” I corrected. “That ain’t the same thing.”
Her mouth fell open slightly.
“Okay, fine. I’ll take that, but… why does it have to be some nights?”
I looked away from her for a second because I already knew where this conversation was going. It was the same wall we kept running into.
She walked closer and grabbed my arm.
“Why can’t we make it real?” she asked, her voice softer now. “Your fans already think we’re really together. My fans love us together. We look good, we make sense, and we already—”
“We already what, Gin?” I pulled my arm free. “Fuck whenever we both feel like it? Shit sounds sweet to me. I ain’t tryna fuck that up, and I ain’t tryna be locked down. You know this.”
Her eyes flashed with hurt, but I kept going.
“This ain’t a relationship. This shit is business mixed with sex, Gin. You signed up for that the same way I did.”
She looked like I’d slapped the shit out of her.
“But I want more.” Her voice cracked this time.
She looked away quickly, but I still saw the tears filling her eyes.
“I want you, Ozy. For real. I’m tired of acting like I don’t.”
I exhaled. Her ass wasn’t getting it.
Ginger wasn’t a bad woman. She could be spoiled, jealous, and irritating as hell, but I didn’t hate her. I cared about her enough not to sit there and feed her a lie because it sounded better than the truth. But I also wasn’t the type of nigga to baby a woman who knew what the fuck it was.
The studio had gone quiet around us, but I could hear muffled voices coming from the lounge.
The winners were still out there, probably wondering what the hell was taking so long.
The crew was waiting. I still had a whole schedule ahead of me, and instead of enjoying the weekend they had planned for me, I was standing here trying to explain the same shit to Ginger for the hundredth time.
“We’re not doing this today,” I finally said.
“I thought you would eventually see what was already in front of you.”
“I see you…that’s not the issue.”
“Then what is?”
“I don’t want what you want, and outside of the good sex that we do have, we don’t have anything in common.
The things I want for my future… for my life…
they don’t line up with what you want. And I’m not up for discussing this shit because there ain’t no point.
” I said, turning toward the door. “Look…my fans are waiting, the crew is filming, and I ain’t ate all morning.
We can talk about whatever this is later. ”
“Later?” Her heels clicked against the floor as she followed me. “Ozy, don’t walk away from me.”
I grabbed the door handle, but before I opened it, she caught my wrist.
“Please,” she said quietly.
I looked down at her hand and then back at her.
“Gin.”
“No, because you always do this. You shut down whenever I say something you don’t want to hear.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“That you care.”
“I do care.”
“That you want me.”
I stared at her for a long moment before saying, “Let’s go eat.”
Her fingers loosened around my wrist.
The tears that had been sitting in her eyes finally spilled over, and as fucked up as it made me feel, I opened the door and stepped out, leaving her standing there alone.