Chapter 10. Mya
The doorbell rings. I stare down at the time on my phone. It can’t fucking be.
“I got it,” I yell to Cisco
I swing open the door to see a large man dressed in all black standing on our porch.
“Can I help you?”
“Mya?”
“Yeah?’ I reply, hesitantly.
“I’m here to pick you up. You have an engagement with Oscar at 8 pm.”
No fucking way. I grit my teeth, close my eyes then and shake my head.
“You tell Oscar I said he can jerk off to his fifty grand, solo.”
The guy doesn’t blink or move. I’m not even sure he’s human.
“I’ve been given clear instructions to get you there by any means necessary.” He flashes me his gun on one side and taser on the other. “Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?”
I flash him my gun. “We can have a shootout in this bitch if you want, but I’m not…”
“Who’s at the door?” Dad’s voice rings out from somewhere down the hall.
I look nervously behind me. Nothing scares me more than my father. I’ve seen him bring grown men to tears. He’s scary to watch sometimes. He’s also a vault of secrets and that tells me one thing. He knows some dirt, or he’s done some sketchy shit.
“Look. If my dad comes out here, everyone will die, and then, if by chance, I survive, I have to explain who you are, why you’re here, and what we bought today…and that there would unravel our operation. So, let’s get moving, Baldy.”
“It’s clear now. I can almost see why he likes you,” he says sarcastically, with zero emotion on his face.
“Hilarious,” I say, fake smiling as I step out and close the door behind me.
Baldy grabs my arm and escorts me to the parked limo out front.
“Gun!” he demands.
“Really? You’re worried about little ol’ me.”
He motions for the gun. I comply and hand mine over. He opens the door and then waves for me to get in. I slide in as Baldy slams the door. Inside, there is another man there to babysit me, I presume. We sit there staring at each other in silence.
“Now, who the fuck are you?” I ask.
He remains silent. Not one word. I’ll call him Stonewall.
We drive for about twenty minutes until the car stops and Stonewall finally moves. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a black bandana and holds it up with two hands.
“Is that for me? You want to blindfold me?”
He doesn’t answer. I exhale, annoyed, and then lean in and let him do his thing. I know how this goes. No one wants anyone to know where they live in this life. After he blindfolds me, I hear a knock on the window and then I feel the car start to move once more. We drive for maybe another ten to fifteen minutes and then the car stops again. I hear a door open and shut, and then I hear the door closest to me finally open.
“Hello, Hips,” I hear a familiar voice say. It’s Oscar.
A warm strong hand gently pulls me out by my elbow and unties my blindfold. My breath catches in my throat when I realize how close Oscar is to my face. I’m almost hypnotized. I didn’t realize how pretty his gray eyes were earlier. The way they stand out on his dark skin. In my anger, I also didn’t notice how tall he was, but now that I’m standing inches from his face, I’m thinking at least six feet tall. His masculine scent surrounds me as I try not to inhale. A good cologne is a pussy trap and I am not getting caught. I take a step back. He stands there in a blue, fitted suit, hair combed perfectly, and me, well, I’m wearing the same shit I did to pick up guns from him earlier.
“Is this what you typically wear to a date?” he inquires.
“I don’t date. It’s disappointing and time-consuming, and in all honesty, I didn’t take your offer seriously, nor do I actually want to be here but your driver made a very compelling argument that involved a gun and taser. So, forgive me if I didn’t put on my finest, your majesty.”
“Mya. I expected much more of a fight. I was a little disappointed when I heard you voluntarily got into that limo.”
Ooh, I hate him.
“How the fuck did you know where I live?”
He ignores the question.
“I just want dinner. That’s it, and then you can go…if you want.”
My insides itch at the thought of wasting any more of my free time with this douchebag.
“Let’s get this shit over with. Shall we?” I turn to walk up to his home.
“What’s the rush? We have all night,” he says, as he quickly grabs my wrist and pulls me back.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.
His eyes suck me in again. He’s trouble, but when I’m bored, I like to play with dangerous toys. Now that he’s set the pace, and slowed me down, he motions his hand in one long sweep for me to go first. With his hand planted on my mid-back, we walk in silence up the winding path toward his porch. I take in the beauty of the greenery and roses. The landscape surrounding this place looks like God himself takes care of it. Garden of Eden type shit. As we hit the oversized porch, I notice a butler standing at attention, one arm behind his back, holding the door open with his weight. The butler, without making eye contact, extends his hand out to me to help me cross over the step.
“No need,” Oscar says.
Oscar grabs my hand and helps me up the step and over the threshold. He turns to the butler who is waiting for instructions.
“Dismissed,” he says.
I watch as the butler nods, beelines it down the hall and then disappears. I take in just the entry point of his ridiculously sized home and force myself to seem unimpressed by its elegance. My eyes land on one painting. As an art connoisseur, I am internally losing my shit. It’s one of the most expensive paintings in the world. It’s called The Card Players and it’s worth roughly about two hundred and fifty million dollars. There”s only five variations of it. One sits with a royal family and the others are in a museum.
“Do you know art?” he asks.
“Naw,” I lie. “This one seems cool though. I guess.”
“It’s an original.”
I inhale my saliva which causes me to choke and start coughing. He looks like he wants to help, but I shake my head, back up, and finish my coughing spell.
“I’m good. Air went down the wrong pipe,” I say, as I gather myself.
“Mm-hmm. Are we done staring at paper on walls?” Oscar grins.
He nods his head once toward the door to his right. I walk by him, push open the door and then strut in. I can no longer hide my emotions. This fool has his own club/bar inside his house. There is a giant dance floor with low lighting and music playing. Aside from the bartender staring at us, it’s just us two.
“Go ahead. Take a seat at the bar. Order whatever you like. Champagne? Martini?”
I scoff. “I’m nineteen. I’m not legal to drink,” I snap.
He laughs and then licks his lips.
“You cuss like a thug. You shoot like a professional killer, and you have no problem buying illegal guns. But alcohol is where you draw the line. It’s comical.”
I roll my eyes.
“Bottle of tequila,” I shout.
“Interesting choice for someone who doesn’t drink,” he responds.
“I never said I didn’t. I said I’m not legal.”
The bartender looks at Oscar for approval. Oscar nods once. The bartender returns with two shot glasses and a bottle of what looks to be the most expensive bottle of Tequila I have ever seen.
“No lime or salt? What type of establishment is this?” I mock. Oscar grins
He waves his hand to the bartender and just like that, lime and salt appear. Another wave from Oscar and the guy is gone. I attempt to grab the bottle to pour my own shot, but he slides the bottle out of my reach and closer to him. I watch as he pours a shot, stands up and then moves to the side of me. With one hand he gently brushes my hair out of the way. He then grips my chin in his hand and cocks my head to the side. He sucks his thumb and then runs the slickness down my neck. I watch as he picks up the salt shaker and shakes a bit of salt out on my neck. He picks up a lime wedge and leans into my ear.
“Open your mouth,” he whispers.
This motherfucker. First of all, how dare you. Secondly, say it again. I do as I’m told because the pussy trap he laid out is definitely working this round. He gently inserts the wedge, peel facing back. I barely bite down. He holds my hair to the side with one hand and then he leans down and slowly licks the salt from my neck. I watch as he throws the shot back into his mouth. I pretend not to like it, but I do. He turns my chair to face him and then he moves and inserts himself between my legs. Lucky for me, I’m wearing these tight-ass jeans. He moves his face closer to mine and my heartbeat elevates. He gently places his lips to mine and grabs the lime with his teeth but he hovers there for a second. The heat from his breath hits my skin and I fight the urge to grab him. Instead, my hands grip the seat of this stool. He steps back, letting his lips graze against mine in the process. With the wedge now in his mouth. I watch and salivate in places I shouldn’t be as he destroys that lime and drains out all the moisture.
Oscar puts the wedge on the bar. Clearly, he’s not done with the show because he grabs the tequila and pours me a shot. He licks part of the rim, salts it and then slides it my way. He takes a new lime wedge and puts it in between his teeth. He nods to the shot and then he watches me as I down it. He then motions for me with two fingers. I get up and attempt to move between his legs, but he shakes his head, and hikes me up into his lap, causing me to gasp. I’m now straddling him with his hands gripping my hips. I lean down and let my lips graze his as I slowly take the wedge out of his mouth. I give him a brief tongue show with the lime, and then I reach back, grab the shot glass and slowly lick the remaining salt off.
“You certainly have big dick energy. I’ll give you that.” I grin.
I push his hands off my hips and slide off his lap. He squints at me in a weird sexy way.
“How old are you?”
He releases a frustrated breath. “Twenty-two.”
“And this.” I motion at the spectacle of a house. “Is all you?”
Oscar side-grins while drinking me in with his eyes. He nods.
“Lotta money for someone so young,”
“Lotta questions for someone who doesn’t want to be here,” he shoots back.
“Lotta evasion for someone who wants me to be here.”
“You know what I do already.”
“I know for sure you do more than supply. You have a two hundred-and-fifty-million-dollar painting in your entryway and you call it paper.”
He looks at me slyly and shakes his finger a few times
“I thought you said you didn’t know art.”
“Lucky guess at the price.”
“Mm-hmm. Are you hungry yet, Hips?”
“Why am I here?” I quickly respond. “Don’t you have a whole variety of women at your disposal? You have this very nice house, which I’m sure is a magnet for the ladies. Some of which would have already had sex with you on this bar if they were me. So again, why am I here?”
“I’m hungry and I want your company. Is that so hard to understand?”
“Mm-hmm,” I respond in disbelief, copying him.
He silently grabs my hand and slowly pulls me up off of the stool. He walks me out of the bar area and back into the entryway of his house. With his hand in mine, he stops and looks at me.
“That is the exit door, outside, there is a car waiting to take you home. You can leave now or we can go eat, enjoy each other’s company, and then you can decide if you want to leave or stay the night. I only took away your choice to come here. The choice to leave at any time is yours. I’ll be straight down the hall, first door to your right, if you decide to stay.”
He releases my hand and quickly turns, leaving me all alone. I’m now standing there in a state of fuckery, staring at the door. Spend the night? The arrogance of this man is beyond me. Pshhh. He wishes. I start to leave; my hand is on the doorknob when I remember his tongue on my neck. His lips on mine. His warm hands on my hips. I close my eyes, exhale, and let my hand drop. I turn around, and like a hormonal idiot, I follow the path right back to him. I walk in and stand in the doorway of what appears to be the dining room. Oscar sits at the table, not making eye contact with me. The entire table has a spread big enough to feed a party of six. There’s lobster, crab, chicken, and some vegan-looking dish.
“I’m not just some stupid easy girl.”
His eyes slowly rise from the table to mine.
“Why the fuck are you still here, Mya? You should go home.”
I’m embarrassed. I’ll admit it, but like a toddler unable to deal with her emotions, I walk up closest to his side and flip a plate off of the table. Chicken and broccoli fly everywhere. Oscar sits there unbothered. I’m not used to being toyed with. I do the toying.
“Is this a game to you?” I shout.
“It doesn’t have to be. Do you like me, Mya?”
“Like you? Right now, I fucking despise you,” I shoot back.
He stands up abruptly, flips a plate of his own and stares at me. Both of us are in a silent standoff and breathing hard.
“You’re difficult, defiant, and most of all, erratic. Would you sit down and let me feed you?”
“I don’t feel like eating anymore,” I yell.
“Yeah? Great. What does the princess feel like doing then?”
Princess! I got your princess. I start grabbing every plate of food off that extravagant table and smashing it to the floor. I know it’s childish but when my temper takes over, it’s too late to do anything. Oscar doesn’t attempt to stop me. He stands there, arms folded, back to being unbothered once again. The butler runs in with worry splashed across his face. Oscar just shakes his head and motions for him to leave. The butler, although concerned, does as requested and walks out.
“Are you fucking done?” he asks with anger in his eyes.
I’m out of breath and in a state of exhaustion at this point. He angrily walks up to me and grabs me by the back of my neck, pulling me into him. Our faces are now inches from each other.
“No. I’m just out of plates,” I shout.
He aggressively picks me up and sits me down on top of the table. His lips crash into mine, and with this rage, I’m not stopping him. I could definitely hate-fuck him. Clothes are coming off at a rapid pace and his mouth is devouring me. It dawns on me, what if I have been over here acting up for nothing. Breaking plates just to get mediocre dick. I slide my hand down his pants and between his legs to see if it was all worth it. This guy is seriously packing and I’m a bit scared but I’m up for the challenge. As we make out, I unbutton and unzip his pants, letting them fall to the floor. My eyes widen as I take in his python that is escaping from its enclosure which happens to be his boxers. He drops to his knee and goes to slide my black panties off.
“Am I interrupting something?” a woman’s voice shakes things up. “A home invasion, by the looks of it here.”
I scurry for my clothes as he rolls his eyes, stands up, and partially dresses.
“This is a private dinner, Letty. Is there a reason you’re here?”
“I should go,” I say, as I struggle to slide into my jeans and shirt and grab my heels.
“Good idea,” the woman says.
Oscar grabs my arm. “You. Sit. Now.”
I sit down, heels in one hand and bra in the other as he ushers Letty out of the room. I can hear them arguing quietly about what seems to be business. Oscar returns after a few minutes and sits at the table.
“Sorry. Business has a hard time separating itself from my personal life.”
“Letty. Was that her name? Did you fuck her?”
He looks at me, confused.
“It’s okay if you did. I’m just curious if I need to sleep with one eye open tonight. Like, will she be outside my house tomorrow? Is she a jilted lover?”
“Have I asked you any personal questions? Any about your bedroom partners?”
“Fair enough, but none of mine are waltzing up in here while my titties and your dick were out.”
Oscar looks at me and half grins.
“Letty is not a lover. She’s my older sister.”
“Oh shit! Your sister. That’s even worse than a jilted lover. I think it’s best if I leave. Thank you for the drink, foreplay, and almost dinner. It’s been a delight.”
Oscar ignores me, walks over to the corner and picks up multiple thick envelopes. I watch as he walks back and then dumps them out on the table.
“What the fuck is that?” I ask.
“Hopefully, a reason for you to stay. It’s fifty grand, as promised.” He winks.
“The deal was dinner. We never actually ate.”
He looks at me, licks his lips and does that half-grin thing.
“Don’t worry. If you stay…I could feed you.”
“If I stay, I might let you,” I tease. “But honestly, you should probably keep the money. The bill for this shit has got to be insane,” I say, as I motion around at the damage I did earlier.
He’s good at changing lanes because the next shit out of his mouth makes me want to bite him.
“Question. Have you ever made love on a clean fifty grand?”
I squint my eyes and shake my head. My pussy throbs at the thought.
“No. But it’s on my bucket list.”
“Well, I can check that off for you tonight,” he says, while biting his bottom lip. “What’ll it be, Hips?”
“Do you like me, Oscar?” I ask, pulling a him on him.
“Like you? Right now, I fucking despise you,” he mocks me from earlier.
“Good. Show me. Show me how much you hate me. Let’s make those clean bills dirty.”
“You have no idea how filthy it”s going to get, princess.”