Black Diamond (35 page)

Camille lounged on the beach in a colorful one-piece bathing suit watching Marc make sandcastles with their daughter. The past few years had been a roller coaster, but they had weathered the storm of building a relationship and now a family.

“Mommy, mommy...look...”

She sat up and looked at Ashanta, her little angel and dusted the sand from her face. “You did a great job, sweetie.” Camille kissed her on her chubby cheek, giving her a tickle before watching her run back to Marc. “Babe, it’s time to start packing up.”

Marc nodded and began chasing Ashanta along the shore. Camille could hear her giggling as she sat up in the beach chair, putting on oversized shades.

After witnessing Derek’s trial and saying goodbye to Ashanta, they moved to Virginia where Marc taught at the academy. She left the bureau after learning that she and Marc were expecting a baby.

Camille stood and began packing up their things. She folded their blanket as Marc ran up and planted a kiss on her mouth. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

He ran back to gather their daughter as she walked toward the car. Camille stopped and surveyed the beach, noticing a figure in the distance watching her. Startled, she dropped their beach bag. She hurriedly picked up the items and glanced over at Marc who was occupied with Ashanta. She turned back and the figure was gone.

She searched the beach for him, but he had disappeared. What was Talib doing in Virginia?

Intoxicated

Coming Spring 2010. Read a sneak peak from
Intoxicated
by Ja’Nese Dixon.

 
“How would you like to feel my tongue run up your spine, babe?” The lyrics cut through the crowd like a knife.

Beneath the stage, Marques paused to take in the deafening screams. He knelt in position waiting to begin his finale as women of all ages jumped up and down in anticipation. Signs were floating in the air, waving erratically, uncontrollably. Cell phones glowed in the dark atrium as concert goers captured the concert to post online.

The
For Ladies Only Tour
had been a commercial success and it was all because of them.

Marques began to slowly ascend from below the stage into a nearly pitch black arena. He appeared to levitate as one white house light came to life directly overhead.

He stood with his feet shoulder width apart exposing more and more of his body until the mechanical lift stopped once it became flush with the stage. The audience gave him their undivided attention as he continued to sing.

“Would you mind if I put on a little slow
jaaaaaammmmm
…before I…?”

Smiling a lopsided sexy grin, he sent the fans into another wave of screams and shouts of “I love you Marques.” And he had more to share.

Marques’ almost dark chocolate skin glistened against the white button-up shirt left open to expose his chiseled chest. His loose fitting jeans dropped low enough to reveal his defined abs leading to the sexiest “V” shape, conveniently pointing in the right direction…south.
  

Now perfectly centered on the stage, Marques began wooing the audience with a seductive rendition of
Intoxicated
—his number one song.
 
He’d banked on his friend and up-and-coming producer Bruce Daniels and now they had a chart topper. He was living his dream.

 
Marques caressed the classic chrome plated microphone resting in the stand. He pulled it close to his mouth as the acoustics in the arena reverberated his signature groan sending the crowd into a frenzy. No one thought about sitting in the seats they’d paid nearly one hundred dollars to occupy.

He stood motionless and played vocal tricks as a single white house light swept the crowd, and the echoes of “pick me”, “over here” and “I’m your number 1 fan” resounded above the gentle playing of the band. His true fans knew that he was known for selecting a special woman from the audience and serenading her on the stage.

Throughout the night, Marques’ fans pretended his crooning was for their personal benefit as he performed selection after selection laced with sensual innuendoes. The men waited patiently, knowing that Marques would guarantee them a steamy night, as the women would seek relief from the sexual tension caused by his concert. San Antonio, Texas would never be the same.

Slowly the platform began moving in a circular motion. For his closing number Marques had no dancers, no back-up singers, no fancy props just a piano, his voice and his faithful followers. A high-powered fan blew, causing his shirt to move gracefully to the
private
serenade. Over 17 thousand attendees saw him dance, play several instruments and now he’d sing the song they’d all waited for in the most intimate setting as if they all were seated in his personal living room.
 

Rotating around the stage gave everyone an opportunity to see him up close and personal. His almost angelic appearance under the glow of the light contradicted the true meaning of words being sung by all in attendance as his fans serenaded him in return…

I’m intoxicated….

I’m intoxicated…

Baby would you mind…

His expression of pure carnal need guaranteed some lucky lady a long night full of love making as he gyrated, and rolled his hips while his hands roamed deliberately across his chest. He tugged on his shirt, filled with a painful need that only one could satisfy. He reached out to the fans, opening and closing his hands, as if pulling each one into his special space.
 

The rotating platform completed its journey around the entire stage as he bellowed from somewhere deep. “I’m intoxicated… All I need is you…”

The stage went black.