Chapter 38
thirty-eight
Watching Kamilla behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses became an infuriating pastime.
In the small break between Sound Stage on day one, and maneuvering through this afterparty, he researched who she was now.
Newly appointed Assistant A smelling her, seeing the little ass she’d gained in the last five years switch around this VIP section without one.
That sandy brown skin glistened underneath the tent light. Whatever moisturizer she’d used and that backless crocheted ombre tangerine dress was putting him in a trance. Even though she was beautiful in a t-shirt with wild hair, that fucking dress was maddening.
The artist he spotted earlier, East Way P, was under the same trance she had him under.
The possessiveness in his spirit wouldn’t allow him to stay put.
Nor would the tiny glimmer on the hand she hid from him earlier.
She was two glasses of champagne in. Even with the bubbly, he knew she wouldn’t drop her professional demeanor.
Grabbing a champagne flute from the passing waitress, he floated into her space. Kamilla sensed him before she saw him. Her shoulders hiked and her head tilted.
“For you,” he coolly spoke.
Politely, she took the flute and offered the same manufactured smile from earlier. “East, this is C4. Grammy-nominated producer who did Ekho’s last album.”
Cairo slightly cringed at the introduction but allowed her that one. He extended his hand. “What’s up, East? Your set was dope.”
“I appreciate it,” East Way replied, accepting the handshake. “Kamilla, was telling me that producer matches happen in places like this for the hype competition on Sunday.”
“I’ve been hearing the same thing. Your sound is dope. Where you from?” Cairo asked, forcing himself to be more sociable than he liked but there was a task at hand.
“Port East. Sixth ward Azul,” East shared. “Crazy I’m here, for real. I just got out a couple months ago. My loc put me on to this. He still in prison out there.”
“I see,” Cairo stated, noting how with every exchange Kamilla floated further and further away. “Any other producers trying to get at you?”
East swayed his head. “Not yet. You trying to do that steal the moon magical shit?”
Cairo chuckled. “Listen, I’ve been out a week and I’m trying to catch my wind.”
“Azul to Azul, let’s make that shit happen,” East spoke.
“Aight, tell you what, enjoy this afterparty. Peep the scene, after sound stage tomorrow, get up with me. I got my equipment here.”
“On Azul? No bullshit?” East tried to hide his excitement. “Nigga, do you know who you are?”
Cairo chuckled. He hadn’t googled himself. He refused to. “I keep getting asked that. On Azul, I’m just trying to find my footing again.”
“Ay, man, let’s take the ride together,” East said, looking past him to Kamilla who was laughing and talking with Rolani James and his wife. “You think we can stay on her radar?”
“Depends on how you conduct yourself and what your motive is,” Cairo replied, taking in the beauty of the view.
“She bad but I’m never the type of nigga to shit where I eat, that’s how I got jammed up. But I’ve seen the work she’s done, she knows her music and she makes niggas take off.”
Indeed she did.
“My suggestion, keep the business at the front of your mind. That’s what she’s looking for. All this is a test. Go pass that shit,” Cairo encouraged the young man. “But before you do, what got you jammed up?”
East chuckled. “So, I got this security job at a bank back in the port. My ex got it for me. I was there for three months casing the place. When we went to rob and the cops came, she pointed her finger right at me. Because we didn’t get away with shit for real, I got six years.”
“But you’re rapping about catching bodies,” Cairo pointed out.
East twitched a little bit. “I rap for the niggas I was locked up with who might not get to tell their story. Street life poetry.”
“I feel that but there’s a small disconnect. Don’t stress it, we can figure out a believable balance that won’t have the label looking at you sideways. You heard of Ray da Don?”
East frowned. “That nigga was an industry plant.”
“Rapping lyrics he never even watched on tv type shit,” Cairo added. “We’re not doing that shit. You’re going to stick to your program, no one else’s. Aight?”
“Aight,” East agreed. “Tomorrow after sound stage?”
“Yeah. Don’t stand me up, nigga.”
“On Azul, I won’t.”
Cairo waited until East was back in the crowd before he turned to find Kamilla.
She was gone, so was her security and her thirsty, narrow eyed assistant.
That was his cue. He’d already called the front desk, finessing his way into a digital key, claiming to be her husband and wanting to surprise her for their anniversary.
How easy it was to get access to her really made him want to cuss out the management.
When he was back at the host hotel, he grabbed a duffle bag and made his way to her room. Even going as far as to order her some tacos to soak up the alcohol in her system. He waited in the living space, bypassing the texts from Nate, Fahaad, and Dania.
The door knob turned and she stepped in. A giggle flooded the space. “I love you too, baby. I’m about to get in the shower and sleep. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?...I love you more.”
Soon as she hung up the phone, his voice grabbed her attention. “Loving anyone other than me got me considering making a garden out a nigga.”
Kamilla’s eyes cut to him and a groan fell from her lips while rolling her eyes and pushing her hair out of her face with that hand. “I’d ask how you got in here but since B&E is your specialty, I won’t waste my time. You can go, though.”
“Nahh,” he trilled. “We’re talkin’. I got tacos.”
“I’m not hungry,” she huffed, kicking her heels off. “And I don’t want to talk to you.”
“That’s you or that nigga talkin’?” he questioned, standing to his feet and closing space between them. “The one you love so fuckin’ much.”
“You don’t know what the fuck you talking about Cairo,” she scoffed.
“Oh, she cusses?” he quizzed. Grabbing her wrist with enough force to study the ring. “You marrying that nigga?”
Kamilla snatched away from him. “Why the fuck would you care? Huh? You blocked me. Had me sitting in that lobby for fuckin’ hours. You know what, no, I’m not doing this. We were done then. We’re done now.”
“We’ll never be done,” he spoke, his body cornering her.
She swiped a tear from her cheek and huffed. “Just when I finally freed myself from the echoes of you, you pop up with your chest out.”
“Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll leave.”
She rolled her eyes and lied. “I don’t love you. Now leave.”
Merely an inch from her face, he smirked. “Cussin’ and lyin too? Where’s my Mariposa?”
“She’s gone. Now go,” she huffed again, attempting to push him back.
Cairo caught her wrists and pinned them over her head. “I missed you too.”
She avoided his eyes. The alcohol in her system fighting with her pride.
“I stopped missing you,” she sassed.
“Them tears tell me otherwise. Come eat.”
She nipped her quivering lip, inhaling his scent. The intrusive thoughts, the wet dreams, the longing swirling with the bitter reality that their demise was her doing. “I don’t want to eat.”
“What do you want? Say it, Mariposa.” Now his lips brushed against hers with every word. He gently nipped her lip. “What do you want?”
Her eyes fluttered, tears still dropping. He could never stand to see her cry and he knew that these rivers that flowed from her eyes were his cross to bear. He kissed each stream before demanding again. “Say it.”
“I want you. But you didn’t want me,” she whimpered.
Cairo kissed those pouty lips. “Don’t ever say that shit again. You have no clue how bad I burn for you. How I had to smother that fucking need to be in your skin so I could survive away from my energy source.”
“I would’ve waited for you. I did it anyway. I would have waited,” she cried.
He silenced her with a deeper kiss. Releasing her wrists so those arms could find their home around his neck again. Free hands gathering the fabric of her dress, pulling it over her hips. His fingers danced into the heat of her apex, and Cairo groaned into her mouth.
“You still love me. I can feel it,” he grumbled, lifting her off of her feet and carrying her to the bedroom. He deposited her on the bed, taking in the beauty she was. Cairo didn’t give a damn about that ring or the corny nigga who put it there. He still had agency over her mind, body and heart.
Hooking the seat of her panties, he tore them off and stuffed them into the pocket of his shorts.
Fingers inched into her wetness, the wince that fused into a moan at the invasion.
The tightness. She was still his. A few stretch marks over her hips, only enticing him more.
Cairo dipped his head between her thighs with the need to taste.
“Ahh, mmm,” she moaned. The glasses of champagne made her throw her resistance to the wind. “Cairrooo.”
“Mmhmm,” he groaned, happy to be reunited with her flavor. Sucking, slurping, and rolling his tongue over her bud, he welcomed the quake. No one had been here. No way with the way she was shaking, moaning, and splashing over his nose, mouth, and chin.
“Why do you do this to me?” she moaned, looking down her midsection at her pussy splash and ooze for him. “Don’t stop, please.”
He didn’t. He pulled another eruption from her depths before standing up and snatching his clothes off.
Kamilla pulled her dress over her head tossing it along with her bra.
Cairo positioned himself between her open thighs, catching her lips, neck, and breasts with his mouth as he pushed inside of her tautness.
Kamilla inhaled a wince and exhaled a moan. Her legs placed over his shoulders as he leaned in, giving her every merciless inch.
“You give my pussy away, Mariposa?” he questioned, inhaling her moans.
“N-no. Cairo. I- shhhiiittt,” a moan so pretty filled his ears. She attempted to close her eyes to avoid the intensity while he drilled into her.
“Look at me.” His command made her eyes flutter open. “You give my pussy away?”
“No,” she whined.
“No what?” he growled.
“No, Cai Baby. I didn’t. This shit is still yours,” she admitted, eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Don’t do me like thissss.”
Passionately, he kissed her, knowing the five years without her would force an early release. This time, he wasn’t pulling out. She wouldn’t get this far from him again.
“You love that nigga?” Cairo gritted.
“No one,” she fought to get out, her pussy expanding and tightening to accept his release into her womb. “No one. I can’t love no one but you. Shiiiittt.”
“Uh huh,” he grunted, his strokes shorter and more erratic. “That’s my girl. You my moon?”
Kamilla, unable to control anything else, moaned as she came apart. “Uh huh. I’m your moon.”
Cairo took her lip and groaned as he sprayed his seed into her depths on purpose. “Can’t nobody steal you from me. No fuckin’ body.”