Chapter 10 #2
“Umm, I can come back later,” Rylo interjected, wearing a mask of confusion.
“No need,” I groaned, “It’ll be the same energy then, too.”
I entered my information, and Rylo scanned my hand, finishing whatever needed to be done on his end.
“What’s next, Master ?” I asked Fallon, reclining on the couch.
“Leave the comedy show here. There will be eyes and ears everywhere. We’re going shopping and then having lunch before your date tonight.”
“What date?”
Fallon grabbed her purse, shaking her head, “You and your man need to communicate better. Let’s go. Ward is downstairs.”
“Don’t hurt ‘em too bad, Hot Mama,” Rylo encouraged.
“I’ll see what I can do. What time are you off?”
I wasn’t even sure why I asked, but Rylo’s personality was comforting compared to what I was stuck with.
“Six if my fuckin’ relief shows up on time. What? You need me to do those nails for you?”
“You do nails?”
“Honey, I do a little of everything, and you need a fresh set. A bad bitch cannot be on camera with these nails,” he frowned, grabbing my hand as if I didn’t know how they looked.
“I can make you a nail appointment,” Fallon offered.
“I want Rylo to do them.”
“I’ll see if my sister can bring my stuff. I can’t have your hands looking raggedy for your big date.”
Rylo saved his number while Fallon paced the living room until he finished.
When we reached the lobby, the same black truck sat at the curb.
Ward opened the door, and I climbed inside first, fumbling with my phone.
This entire ordeal had me off my game in a way that fucked with me.
I scrolled through my contacts because there was no way Treason had taken my phone and didn’t save his number.
When I reached his contact, I frowned and tapped it to send him a text.
Me: Who the hell is Stink?
Stink: Me. You look like the Stink type.
Me: I prefer Jackass.
Stink: As long as you’re calling me, I’m with it.
Stink: Wassup Vie? You good?
Me: Fallon said I have a date tonight.
Stink: You do.
Me: Would’ve been nice to hear that from you.
Stink: I’ll do better. Have fun shopping.
How this man got under my skin belonged in the Guinness Book of World Records.
Being submissive would be a lot harder than I thought, staring out the window until we arrived downtown.
Ward opened the door, and Fallon led us inside the boutique, instructing the saleswoman to help me while she whipped out her iPad.
She returned holding a red dress, and the color alone intrigued me enough to try it on. Inside the fitting room, I slipped it on, and my phone rang.
“Hey, Squirt.” I sat on the bench, excited to hear Rayven’s voice.
“Where have you been? I’ve been calling and texting you!” The Rayven I knew was soft-spoken, but her voice rippling through the speaker was anything but soft.
“Sorry, I got wrapped up in something. Are you okay?”
“Freaking the fuck out. I’ve been worried sick about you. I was calling, but you weren’t answering. I thought.”
Rayven couldn’t say the words, but I knew what she meant.
“Take a breath, kid. I’m fine,” I laughed, hoping she would do the same, but I could feel her panic through the phone. “What's wrong? Are you okay?”
Rayven panicked me until she shared, “I got a C on my midterm!”
“C’s still get degrees. It’s not the end of the world.”
“It will be if I can’t get into med school. Would you want a C medical student treating you? Maybe, Sloane was right.”
“We’re not doing that, Ray,” I said sternly. “If you don’t want to be a doctor, don’t, but let it be your decision and not the bullshit she’s put in our heads.”
“I want to be a doctor,” Rayven admitted.
“Then don’t give up. It’s hard because it’s new. Not because you can’t do it. Believe in yourself and ask for help.”
“I need to see you. Can you come visit?”
“I don’t know, Squirt. I’m in the middle of something.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I rushed out to calm her nerves. “I just miss you, but I’m proud. My baby is all grown up.”
“Come see how grown up your baby really is! It’ll be fun. You can meet all my friends, and I can show you around campus.”
My eyes watered listening to her rave about her life. Rayven was doing all the things I never got a chance to, and that somehow motivated me to endure my sentence with Treason.
“You don’t want your annoying older sister tagging along with your friends.”
“You’re not annoying. I could really use a hug and s’mores. Please, Vie!” Rayven whined.
“That’s why you really want me to come. So I can cook for you?”
“S’mores is not real cooking, but I do miss you.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Are you really or just saying that so I’ll stop begging?”
“I’ll really see what I can do, but I need to finish something. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Have fun. Love you, Vie!”
“Love you too, Squirt. Be safe and remember to ask for help.”
Rayven agreed and hung up the phone. I needed to get to Rayven, and that meant gaining Treason’s trust. I stood up and gave myself a once-over in the mirror, wondering if Treason was a bad boy or someone who's done bad things.
There was something about his dominant side that put me in my place, yet never went too far.
“Then what do you call getting me arrested and moving me in?” I asked myself.
You can do this, Vie. He’s got money and looks like he has a big-.
“Focus! We’re not here for that,” I whispered, needing the reminder to flow back in my own ears.
But since we’re here. Why the hell can’t we have some fun? I know you felt it when he let you feel him up in that luxurious suite. If you were going to get caught, you damn sure should’ve left with something.
Snatching the curtain back, I stepped out of the dressing room to quiet my thoughts.
“Damn!” Fallon was floored, staring at me. “I’d fuck you.”
“There will be no fucking tonight, but thanks. That’s a big compliment from you.”
Fallon smirked and took a call, walking to the front of the store.
She wasn’t lying. There were a lot of eyes, ears, and cameras blocking the oversized store window.
Being with Treason meant attending more diverse events.
After trying on clothes, I left the dressing room to catch the end of Fallon’s conversation with someone complaining about Treason.
When she hung up, we left and had lunch, then checked in at the spa. The receptionist sang Treason’s praises for being such a good man, all because he made an appointment. I wasn’t as easily impressed, but my anger stood no chance against the masseuse.
She was so good that Fallon, rattling off information like an FAQ page, couldn’t ruin my high going back to Treason’s house. I thought I was home free until she followed me upstairs, dumping more information on my lap—stupid information at that.
“The story of how we met is weak. We’re not winning any hearts with that.”
Fallon chuckled, “So, how do we win since you have all the answers?”
“People are nosey and tired of hearing about Treason the politician. He needs to show them Treason, the man, and right now that includes me. Put us into spaces where he can be himself, give them details about us, and sprinkle in information about his campaign.”
“This isn’t an album rollout. This is politics.”
“It’s a PR stunt just like plenty of industry relationships, so you need to start thinking like it. Reach out to In Sync’s people. We give them an exclusive sit-down with us and play that stupid game, everybody loves, Campaign edition.”
Fallon’s gaze narrowed because even she knew it was a good idea.
She just hated that it was mine and moved on.
There was a short list of do’s, while the don’ts were much longer, including not tweeting, posting, or liking anything without approval.
Don’t move his keys. Don’t touch the stack of folders by his nightstand.
And never throw away anything in a blue folder.
“When you hear Cantaloupe Island by Herbie Hancock playing, do not interrupt him. If you want to argue, schedule it. If you need to vent, write it down. He will listen, but not in the moment. That’s just how Tre is wired.”
“That song could be playing right now and I wouldn’t hear it,” I groaned.
“Learn it and quickly. That’s his reset song. It means the world’s too loud and he’s trying not to explode.”
I was on the verge of exploding after all the information she dumped in my lap. Thankfully, the elevator opened, and Treason graced us with his presence while Ward lagged. Fallon couldn’t pack up fast enough, reminding Treason about their meeting and leaving.
“How was your day?” Treason asked, snatching his tie from his neck.
I resisted the urge to reply sarcastically, “It was good. Thank you for the spa day.”
“You’re welcome. We’re leaving at eight. Is that enough time?” he asked, his warmth nearing.
My shoulders tensed, focusing on Treason’s frame leaning over the back of the sofa. He kissed my head like it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was for him, but my heart was racing just to produce shallow breaths that made me sweat.
His body froze above me, “Calm down. I’m not gonna’ hurt you.”
I’d heard those words before, unfortunately. It made trusting Treason’s much harder, especially how we got here. Treason pulled back slowly, giving me space and something else I wasn’t used to.
Grace.
“I’ll be in my office so I can be all yours tonight.”
“Oh joy, how did I get so lucky!” I exaggerated, as if I were in a musical.
“By picking the wrong motherfucka’ to play with.” Treason chuckled, pulling his shirt free from his trousers on the way down the hallway.
When he disappeared, Ward’s baritone seized my attention from the downward spiral.
“Tre can be an asshole, but he’s the kind you want fighting for you. Not against you.”
“He signs your check. You’re supposed to say that.”
Ward sat on the back of the couch, a recurring theme around here, laughing. I know I wasn’t that damn funny, but every time I opened my mouth, one of them laughed.