Jahleel (11 page)

He bit the words out, as though they were hard for him to say.

The hell?

“Yes, actually.”

“Saskia,” a deep voice called from above me.

I glanced up to see my good friend Zane Zekiel towering over me. Cocking his head, he regarded Jahleel with a frown, seemingly trying to put face to name. “JK, right?”

Jahleel flipped up the deuces fingers in acknowledgment, and I bit my lip to stop from smiling like a teenager with a crush. He was such a hot show-off in everything he did. His cockiness didn’t make him detestable; it made him even hotter and personable.

“Ah man, my ears hurt from hearing your goddamn name so much. Even in the fucking locker room,” Zane griped, reaching out to shake his hand. “You should probably have your own reality show or something, man. You’re like the single Scott Disick.”

Jahleel took his hand and shook it once. “‘Cept I still got my balls intact.”

Zane laughed out, then turned back to me and joked, “Don’t tell me you’re crushing on him, too?”

More like obsessed, infatuated, un-fucking-hinged
.

But remembering who and where I was, I released a, “Pfffft,” being sure I kept my eyes on Zane and not Jahleel.

At that, Jahleel stood up with an, “I’ll leave you two”, then slipped off into the crowd.

Zane took his place.

Zane Zekiel was a MVP, 4-time Championship Ring holding pro basketball player. Dark-chocolate complexion, hazel-brown eyes, and muscles as hard as steel. I met him at a party like this when I’d first come to the U.S., and he was the coolest person. We exchanged phone numbers so we could chat through IM and sometimes when he was in SF, he’d come to visit me and we would drink booze and talk crap for hours.

“Zane.” I grinned widely. “The man who’s a
man
.”

“I still don’t know what the hell that means, Saskia,” he chuckled. Passing his eyes down my body, he nodded in approval. “Looking damn good, too.”

Mockingly, I waved a hand and tossed my hair like a conceited French tart. Crossing one leg over the other in a slow, provocative manner, I tipped my chin up with an arrogant tilt. “Ohhh, Mr. Zekiel. Youz knowz howz to makez a womanz
blush,
eh
?
Stopz flirtingz with me. Now, shoo shoo, s’il vous plaît.”

Zane tossed his head back and howled in laughter, as he was wont to do whenever I kept up antics such as this. “Faking a French accent with a British accent is the single sexiest thing I’ve
ever
heard.”

Uncrossing my legs, I laughed along with him.

Zane leaned in, “No offense, but you’re not my type, Frenchie. I mean, you’re fucking hot, no doubt. But, like, white guys’ hot. For shit’s sake, I’m black, six feet six, with an eight and half inch dick that’s five inches in width—you couldn’t handle me. I like my women with a big, round ass, thick thighs, D-cups and no gag-reflex…you know this, Saskia.”

“Nowz you makez me cry, eh?” I mock sobbed. “You bad, bad man.”

“Cut the crap, crazy,” Zane laughed again, shaking his head. “Look, I want you to set me up with someone.”

“Who?”

Inclining his head to the right, he nodded over to the bar where Amanda and Twana were talking and laughing. “That girl you’re always with.”

“Manda? She’s my bestest.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, staring across at her with a ravenous expression. “I’ve been watching her for a year now; how she moves, her attitude, you know. I’ve been keeping tabs. And I’ve decided, I want her. For myself.”

“A
year
? Really?” I gaped, disbelieving. “You could’ve just asked me, you know.”

“You would’ve been biased.”

“True,” I conceded, nodding. “However, I’m not sure it would work with you two.”

Dragging his eyes from Amanda at the bar, he looked curious, “Why?”

“Well, she’s kind of, um, dominant,” I spared. “A man eater.”

Zane dipped his head and smiled to himself, then looked back over to the bar. “I’ve gathered that much.
That’s
why I want her.”

“Uh…o-kay?” I dragged out.
How weird
. Most men
run
from Amanda, carping that she’s too commanding.

“She lives with you, right?”

“I’d be a mess if she didn’t. She’s the pep in my steps.”

“Great. Make the link, babe.” Standing up, he leaned over and gave my cheek a peck. “You’re awesome, Saskia. Love ya.” Then he was gone.

I watched him with a smile as he walked off into the throngs of people, until the sight of Jahleel wiped that smile right off my face.

Perpendicular to where I was, he sat on a stool at one of the high tables, around twenty feet away from me, and Tiara was perched on his right thigh, yapping off with expressive hand gestures, as though she were spilling her heart out, pleading, begging. Jahleel’s arm hung loose around her waist, but his eyes were fixed on me.

Seemed he’d been watching me and Zane, and now his arsehole face was on.

Tiara still blabbered on until he raised his forefinger and pressed it against her lips in a ‘shh’ gesture. As her shoulders relaxed, she turned her face up at him, and I could tell she was sighing dreamily.
Who wouldn’t?

Taking hold of her chin with his thumb and index finger, Jahleel pulled her face to his and kissed her. A delicate kiss on the lips. The kind of kiss bound to mislead her and make her believe he wanted more from her.

When he drew back, she threw her arms around him and hugged him hard.

Over her shoulder, his stare found me again.

Arse
.

Flicking up my middle finger at him, I scooped up my clutch from the table and stood up, deciding I needed a smoke.

This man’s attention was all I’d ever wanted. And now that I was getting it, the feeling was overwhelming and bittersweet. Because just like that, he switched from an ace guy I could converse with to a spiteful, detestable bloke.

As I moved off, I glanced back at him to see that devilish crooked grin on his face, the one I wished for earlier. Continuing his taunt, he lowered his head and kissed Tiara’s bare shoulder with those coveted lips, while his golden gaze speared me.

Maybe it was the Coffee Patrón mixed with the Nuvo that started to wear on me, or maybe I was getting used to his arsehole-ism, I don’t know, but, carelessly, I turned around in the midst of the crowd and flipped him the bird again. Then, crossing my forearms, I slammed them down on my thighs in the good ole WWE ‘Suck It’ slam.

Jahleel cracked up on Tiara’s shoulder, and I bit back a smile. I’d never seen him show so much teeth before.

When Tiara pulled from his embrace and tilted her head back to watch him, I pivoted away and resumed my strides, no longer pissed off.

Jahleel Kingston was screwing with me. Revelling in it. And the stupid, muddleheaded side of me was turned on by it.

Chapter Seven

T
here were no more ‘run-ins’ with the Kingston A-hole for three weeks, as I’d left SF for extended promo trips to Los Angeles, New York and Miami, doing a string of interviews, appearances and guest performances, which temporarily ridded my thoughts of all things Jahleel Kingston.

It wasn’t until our group of sleep-deprived, overworked groaners collapsed in our private jet that someone mentioned his name, and I groaned from an entirely different kind of pain.

Twana was scowling at her computer screen as if it repulsed her. She and Lion were coming back to SF with us for a week. A tad more laid back from the craziness of L.A, Lion had begun to love it there. But he couldn’t move there as I did because he managed quite a few artistes, and with L.A being the base of everything for stars, he deemed the one hour back and forth ‘too much of a hassle’.

Maybe it was, but I was in the same place as Jahleel Kingston, so I could care less about the hassle.

“Can you believe they’re considering this fucker JK to replace Andrew Lucas as judge on Dancin’ 2da’ Beat?” she said, all riled up.

Twana loathed Jahleel with a bitter, bitter passion and got irritated whenever his name came up—or anything about him, actually.

Lion nodded, looking as tired as I felt, eyes closed, head resting back against the seat. “Hmm. I heard.”

She gestured to the laptop screen with her long, acrylic-nailed fingers, which were painted a loud commotion of colours, her many gold bangles jingling on her wrist. “But,
why
?”

“‘Cause he’s good at what he does, T,” Lion sounded annoyed. “Be quiet, will ya? I’m tryin’ to get some sleep here.”

Amanda was fast asleep next to me in the seats across from Lion and Twana, while I was curled up in a C under a blanket, with one eye closed and the other peeking over at Twana.

I, too, wish she would shut up. One, because I wanted to sleep. And two, because I’d been doing so damn well not thinking about Jahleel until she blasted his name.

“I-I just don’t understand,” she continued, genuinely and inexplicably pissed. “
Why
is he so popular with everybody? What’s the big deal? He’s just a damn dance choreographer. I don’t get it.”

Lion’s eyes popped open at that, and he wasn’t pleasant. A hungry man is an angry man, yeah. But a sleep-deprived man will bite like a fucking shark if you don’t let him sleep.

“Because he’s shoving his non-famous dick down a lot of famous throats, that’s why. Why are
you
so popular, T?”

As she grappled for an answer, he supplied it for her, “Because you’re fuckin’
me
.”

“That’s different.”

“No, it’s not. Leave him alone, and shut the hell up so I can get some sleep.”

“He’s the biggest fucking asshole,” she retorted. “I didn’t think I could hate anyone so much.”

“Yeah,” unconcerned, Lion closed his eyes again.

Twana remained quiet for a while, thanks be to God, and I started drifting off…

Until she opened her mouth again. “Why do you get so pissed when I throw shade at him?”

Taking a long, frustrated breath, Lion reopened his eyes and leaned forward, staring back at his girlfriend. “One, because JK’s my boy; he’s like a son to me, two ways. A son, and a fuckin’
sun
. It’s people like
you
, with your hatin’ and shade throwin’, why the world can’t be a better place. He shines
bright
, doin’ nothing but being the ‘biggest asshole’ alive who’s blessed with enviable talent. And people be in awe, blinding and hurtin’ their own eyes. And two, because you always bitchin’ ‘bout how much you hate him, and you ain’t ever gave me a fuckin’ reason why.”

Lion darted his eyes around the jet, checking if all on board were asleep. Even though he caught me peeking at them, he went on with his shocking question to Twana. “You fucked him?”

Twana gaped at the unexpected question. “Of course not!”

“Do you
want
to fuck him?”

“Are you for real right now?” she angrily slammed her laptop shut.

Lion peered at her closely, reading her. He was so good at that. “Then tell me. Now. Why does his name bother you so much?”

She suddenly looked nervous, and by this time, I wasn’t peeking, but staring full-on. If she admitted to sleeping with Jahleel, I was going to jump out of this plane and kill myself. I wouldn’t be able to take it. No more.

“Kay.”

“
Kay
?” Lion blasted. “Are you serious?”

Kay was Twana’s sidekick, who was also engaged to Lion’s brother. I hadn’t seen her in a while.

“And he treated her like shit afterward,” she bit out. “So…that’s why.”

“Why you mad at JK about a bitch who fucks on her man, T?!” he shouted. “Not even gonna ask if she forced it. JK would never go there. I’m sure of this.”

“She did. He was shitfaced,” Twana admitted quietly, ratting on her own friend. “You can’t tell Dean, babe.
Please
.”

“I’m not supposed to tell my
brother
that his fiancé pushed up on another man?” he asked incredulously. Thoughtfully frowning, he concluded, “That’s why JK all of a sudden decided to stop workin’ for me?”

Twana lowered her head and whispered, “Yeah. He said you’d never forgive him if you ever found out.”