Hittin' It Out the Park (21 page)

Cheryl stopped suddenly, her throwing arm frozen in air, and she looked as if she suddenly realized what she'd been doing. She slowly sank back down into her seat, but only for a second. She jumped up, and screamed, “You bastard!” The bottle smashed into the wall, barely missing Randy who darted into the bathroom.

This time it was Randy locked inside and Cheryl urging him to come out. But while Randy had used pleas and apologies, Cheryl hurled threats and curses. While Randy had repeatedly knocked and begged, Cheryl did her best to kick the door in.

“Cheryl, calm down.”

“Don't you dare tell me to calm down,” Cheryl screamed at the top of her lungs. “Out of all the women in the world you had to fuck her? You had to fuck my . . .” Her unfinished sentence served to bring her to her senses. She gave the door one more kick, then stomped back into the bedroom, and threw herself on the bed and collapsed into tears.
Out of all the women in the world you had to fuck my daughter!

*  *  *

“Thanks, Stephen, but I have to go home sometime.”

“Hmph, I don't see why.” Stephen rolled his eyes. “If I were you, I'd be pulling out that pre-nup and be on my way to a lawyer to see how to break it so you can take young country boy to the cleaners.”

“I never signed a pre-nup.”

“What?” Stephen jumped up from the couch. “You're kidding.”

“Nope. Don't you think I would have told you if I had?”

“Wow.” Stephen sank back down. “I thought you had but didn't want to tell me the details.”

“Please, you know I tell you everything.” Cheryl gave a tingly laugh, though she felt a little guilty for the lie. She had told him that Randy had slept with Sexy, but she hadn't told him that Sexy was her daughter. And she didn't intend to. In fact, she'd never told Stephen that she'd ever had a child. And she also didn't plan to ever tell him.

“So, if you don't have a pre-nup, why aren't you at the lawyer's office? Damn, I'll drive you there myself. New York might not be a community property state, but honey, the courts tend to be very generous to the wives of cheating millionaire athletes.”

“Because,” Cheryl said, opening up her makeup compact to check her lipstick, “I don't plan on divorcing Randy.”

“Why not?”

“Because I love him.” Cheryl snapped the compact shut and slipped it into her pocketbook.

“No, I'm serious. Why not?”

“I love him, Stephen.”

Stephen's eyebrows shot up. “And when did that happen?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on, Cheryl.” Stephen sucked his teeth. “You and I both know you fell in love with young country boy's money.”

“Maybe.” Cheryl sighed. “Okay, yeah. But, I don't know, Stephen, I really do love him. How can you help but love someone who loves you as much as he loves me.”

“If he loves you so much, why did he sleep with Sexy?”

“Because he's a man, and men are dogs.” Cheryl picked up her Versace shoulder bag, kissed Stephen on the cheek, and walked toward the door. “If he calls—”

“It's been a good fifteen minutes; he'll be calling any second now.”

Cheryl chuckled. “Well, when he calls—”

Ringgggggggg.

They both broke out in laughter.

“If that's him, don't tell him anything. Let him sweat it out a little more. It'll be a surprise when he gets home and finds me there,” Cheryl said, walking out the door.

Fifteen minutes later, Cheryl handed her car keys to the valet and marched into the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton. It was ridiculous that Yusef had been in town three months and was still staying at one of the most expensive hotels in the city, but Cheryl had no doubt that is was at Sexy's instigation. She could imagine that the girl would rather have room service and hotel housekeeping rather than actually taking care of herself and Yusef at an apartment. Never mind that it had to be costing Yusef a fortune.

Bypassing the hotel desk, Cheryl walked over to the elevators, and rode up to the nineteenth floor. She stood in front of suite 1901 for a few minutes, trying to steel her nerves, before determinately knocking on the door. To her surprise, the door opened immediately, and there stood Sexy Sanchez, clad only in a towel. The girl slowly looked Cheryl up and down before speaking.

“Oh, I thought it was room service. I ordered the fresh catch of the day, but instead I find old, funky fish,” Sexy said in a disinterested voice.

Keep your cool. Keep your cool.
“May I come in?”

Sexy smirked. “Must you?”

“I must,” Cheryl said, walking past the girl without further invitation. “I think we need to talk.”

Sexy shrugged, and closed the door. “Okay. Hope you don't mind if I slip into something more comfortable.” She strode to the middle of the room, then undid the towel, letting it drop to the floor. She then emitted an obvious fake, but very long yawn, accompanied by an expansive and exaggerated stretch.

Cheryl smirked as she gave Sexy a slow up-and-down look to let the girl know that her brazenness didn't bother her, but the truth was she was impressed to the point of jealousy. Sexy's body was as ill as the singer Rihanna's; firm, sleek, muscular and curvy at the same time. Cheryl hadn't been obsessed with looking at herself in the mirror when she herself had been sixteen, but now she wished she had. She had to hope that at least, at one point, her body was as hot as Sexy's. Mentally she shook her head to rid it of the thought.
Hell, my body is rocking now. Maybe not quite as firm or as sleek, but . . .

“You have to excuse me, I didn't get much sleep last night. Yusef had to go to Philly on some family business, so I was, uh, entertaining.” She flashed Cheryl a wicked grin. “Randy didn't mention you were stopping by. He's such a naughty boy.”

Cheryl gave the girl a cold stare. “If you're trying to imply Randy was the man you were—”

“Oh, I wasn't trying to imply anything,” Sexy said in an innocent voice, bringing her hand to her bare breasts. “Why would you think that?” She walked into the bedroom and returned, still naked, with a bottle of scented lotion. She lifted one of her long shapely legs onto the back of the chair in which Cheryl was sitting and began applying the lotion.

Keep cool. Keep cool.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Sexy asked, switching legs.

Cheryl moved from the chair to the sofa. “Us.”

“What about us?”

“Well, I think we got off on the wrong foot, Sexy. You've said some horrid things, and I've said some horrid things. And then, of course, there's the fact that you slept with my husband—”

“I would hardly call what we did sleep,” Sexy said with a chuckle.

Keep cool. Keep cool.
“If you're trying to get under my skin, give it up. I've already gotten over it. I've decided to forgive my husband his little indiscretion—”

“Well, you and I both know there's nothing little about Randy's indiscretion. Whew, and boy does he know how to use it, huh?” Sexy now sat down on the chair, crossed her legs and started massaging her breasts with the lotion. “But you know what? I taught him a few new tricks. Believe me, you're gonna thank me for it.” She giggled. “Let's call it an early birthday gift, from me to you.”

“I came here trying to have a civilized conversation with you, Sexy, but you're really making it hard.”

“Girl,” Sexy leaned forward and waved her hand in a friendly manner. “Talk about hard, that Randy—”

Cheryl stared at the girl for a moment, then rolled her eyes and sighed.

Sexy laughed. “Yeah, I know, I'm a smart-ass—”

“Oh, girl, please.” Now it was Cheryl's turn to wave her hand. “In order to be a smart-ass you have to be smart. You? You're simply an ass.”

Sexy's eyebrow shot up. “Well, aren't you a bitch.”

“I thought I told you before, I'm not a bitch, I'm
the
bitch.” Cheryl stood up and walked over, and leaned on the back of Sexy's chair, and glared down at the girl. “And I don't play kiddy games with little kiddies.”

“Oh, am I supposed to be all scared and shit now?” Sexy said with a sneer.

“I don't give a shit if you're scared or not, but I will tell you what you
are
going to be.”

“Yeah? And what's that?” Sexy said defiantly.

“Off my husband's dick, slut.”

“Hey, it's not my fault he can't get enough of this good pussy, here,” Sexy said, cocking her legs and patting her crotch. “If your shit was as good as this, you wouldn't have to worry about me taking your man.”

“Taking my man?” Cheryl threw her head back and laughed. “Skank, don't get it twisted. You borrowed him for a night.”

“Borrowed him, huh? Bitch, I put my fucking stamp on him. You thought you had him all pussy-whipped, but I got that motherfucker ready to jump through hoops to get back in this saddle.”

“Not likely since you're gonna be trotting your pony ass back to Bryn Mawr, little girl.”

Sexy's face turned red, and she began breathing hard, though she seemed to be struggling to hide her surprise. Cheryl grinned at Sexy's reaction. It was the first time she'd ever seen the girl actually taken aback. “Oh, yes, I know all about you, you little juvenile-delinquent slut. Does Yusef know he's been fucking jailbait?”

“I don't think my age or background is any of your business, bitch.”

“Ooh, is that the snappiest comeback you've got?” Cheryl laughed and walked back over to the couch, though she didn't sit down. “So, here's the thing. I'm not worried about Randy coming back and sniffing around for your little twat; he's had you, and he's forgotten you. But, still I think you need to carry your ass home so you don't start trouble in other people's marriage. So, if you don't want me to—”

“To tell? Are you sure you want to do that?”

Cheryl noticed that the smirk Sexy always seemed to wear had returned. “Oh, yes, I'm quite sure.”

“Really? Because if you do, a lot of people can get hurt.” Sexy's smirk turned into an evil smile. “Me, least of all, though.”

The little bitch is calling my bluff.
“How so?” Cheryl asked coolly.

“Because, maybe if you tell, then I tell.”

Damn.
“Tell what? I've done nothing wrong. And since Randy didn't know your age, he didn't do anything wrong, either. And while you might have been underage when you started fucking Yusef, by the time you seduced my husband, you had already turned seventeen—which is the legal age of consent in New York.”

Sexy shrugged. “Sure, Randy didn't do anything wrong in the eyes of the law. But in the eyes of public opinion, well, that might be a whole other matter.”

Cheryl stood up and smiled. “Well, I'm sure Stephen—”

“Your little gay friend?”

“—will be able to handle public opinion.” She pulled the chain strap of her Versace bag high on her shoulder and headed toward the door. “Oh, by the way,” she said before closing the door behind her, “you need a lot more lotion. You're still quite trashy. I mean ashy.”

Y
usef was at a meeting with his agent, and Sexy was relaxing in the hotel suite. Butt-naked, she reclined in bed, eating gummy bears and Doritos while watching the ratchetness of
Bad Girls Club.
She glanced at her orange-tinted fingernails and frowned. Two crystals were missing. For all the money she'd spent at that high-end spa, the crystals that the manicurist had applied should have remained intact for at least a few weeks.

Disgusted, she yanked back the bed linen, searching for the small crystals. But no luck. She glanced at her nails again and concluded that they looked absolutely dreadful with the missing jewels. But she didn't feel like being bothered leaving her luxurious suite to get them repaired at a nail salon.

Hmm. The Ritz-Carlton had a salon on the premises, and maybe she could convince one of the manicurists to drop by her room to fix her nails. Celebrities got the royal treatment all the time, and why shouldn't she? Sexy called the salon, but was sorely disappointed when she was told by a woman with a snooty voice that the manicurists didn't provide room service.

Hmph! I bet they'd rush to my room with an entire glam squad if I were Mrs. Randall Alston.

Heaving a sigh, she resigned herself to gluing those suckers back on if only she could find them. She dropped to her knees and searched the carpeted floor. With her naked ass tooted upward, she looked beneath the bed.

“Is that the position you were in when you let Randy run his dick up in you?”

She hadn't heard Yusef enter the suite and she was startled by his gruff voice and malicious accusation. “What are you talking about?” she asked innocently, looking up and meeting eyes with Yusef as he towered above her, staring daggers at her. His shirt was rumpled and his eyes were bloodshot, and she could smell alcohol on his breath.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, so don't fuckin' play dumb, you slut.”

“But . . . but . . . um, I thought you wanted me to go to bed with Randy. That's what you said the other night.”

“That was sex talk. Nothing more than a harmless fantasy . . . and you know it.”

“I didn't know; I thought you were serious.” Sexy rose from the floor and sashayed over to Yusef. “Listen, I'm really sorry about our misunderstanding, baby. Let me make it up to you,” she said seductively, placing her arms around Yusef's neck.

She kissed him, but he didn't kiss back. He stood stock-still like a statue.

“Don't be mad, Yusef,” she cajoled. “I said I'm sorry.” She licked her lips. “I bet I know how to get you out of your bad mood.”