Smoke and Mirrors (20 page)

A
ngelina Osteria on
Beverly Boulevard proved to be the perfect setting for Smoke’s date with Paris. He knew he’d made a good choice when he noted the Italian style awning above Paris’ double front doors. When he arrived at her house, he was duly impressed. The place showcased a massive, well-manicured, lush kelly green lawn, as well as modern, light gray architecture with vast windows, sometimes taking up an entire wall. He could see straight through the damn place. A mausoleum, in which not a thing stood out of place. She enjoyed minimalism and earth tones, and high beam lights that gave a soft glow to each and every nook and cranny. What impressed him most was that her home was pushed far away from the street and other homes, as if the sky and trees decided to keep it all to themselves. He could see why—it was a real gem.

He got out of his car, gave himself the once over in his Porsche window reflection, and walked up the door, feeling confident and free. He tried to swallow the proud smirk on his face as he adjusted his shimmering silver cufflink while walking up her cobblestone entranceway, but he simply couldn’t. Soon after he rang the doorbell, she opened pretty fast, her luscious curves in a tight, black dress that kissed her flesh like a second skin. She’d paired it with black and gold stilettos that strapped up her ankle and ended with a delicate little bow off to the side.

Shiiiiit!

She’d left her hair down, brushing against her shoulders and mid-back like a black silky towel. He longed to touch it. She greeted him with a glimmer in her eye, her purse in hand.

“You look really nice, Paris.”

“Thank you. So do you.”

He wrapped his arm around hers and walked her to his car. She waited there as he opened the passenger side door of his vehicle and he took the liberty to enjoy the way her leg looked so elongated and her calf curved as she got settled in. The drive over to the family-run, Italian restaurant was quiet, only a few words here and there, but once they arrived at the quaint location, she opened right up for him. He hoped her legs would do the same later that evening…

“So, Paris, tell me about this name of yours… What is your
real
name?” He slowly cracked his menu and perused the choices in the small, packed place.

Tearing her gaze from her menu, she threw him a guarded look. Even for a question such as that, seemingly innocent, she weighed her answer carefully. She remained quiet for a few moments, then much to his surprise, she acted as if she hadn’t heard the question at all, as if he’d simply stated he’d spotted a gum wrapper on the floor. Dismissing him in such a haughty way, she glanced back down at her menu, perusing her choices for an entree.

“This veal dish sounds good…” she stated, her nose buried in the thing. “It’s a veal stuffed tortellini.”

I have some veal I’d like to stuff in your tortellini…

He grinned at her as he ran away with his nasty thoughts like a burglar in an armed robbery…

“So, you’re just gonna ignore a motherfucker, huh?” He slumped back in his seat and threw his hands up, a huge smile on his face. Damn, he liked her…

“You haven’t earned the right to know yet.” She winked at him and pursed her lips, acting coy and cute.

He rolled his eyes and grinned, then looked back down at the menu for a spell.

“Who is watching your girls while you are on this date with me?” she questioned, still nose deep in her meal choices.

“I have a long time trusted friend, his name is Frank. Good guy, bodyguard…anyway, he watches the door all the time, and another guy, Reggie, fills in for me on the rare occasion when I’m sick, or need to be at two places at once. Plus, Felicia is there.”

Paris nodded in understanding.

Soon, the waitress came up and took their order.

“Let the lady order first.” He winked and motioned at her with a flourish.

Paris smiled once again. Elegant, poised—a class act. She carried herself as if she’d never opened her legs for cash in her entire life. You’d think she was some aristocrat, someone noble from a royal country dripping in diamonds and gold. Hell, maybe she was, but just didn’t know it.

“I’d like to have the veal tortellini, please, and uh, Smoke, do you like wine?” she asked, raising a perfectly arched brow.

“Yes…”

“Red or white?”

“…Both.”

“I’d also like a bottle of your Argento Malbec,” she added.

“Certainly. And you, sir?”

“I’d like to get the Lasagne Verdi and a side salad, your house salad is fine.”

“Wonderful. I will be back with bread and glasses of water.” He grabbed their menus, turned away and headed to another table in the crowded place.

Smoke turned his attention back to Paris and stared into her eyes. He could not get over how damn pretty she was, how sweetly seductive her perfume smelled, how her easygoing smile made him feel like a kid in her presence. Her body was perfect, her voice, especially when she was angry, a bit amusing, and she walked like a runway model. Dare he say it—he could feel a nice vibe with this woman for she consumed his damn thoughts night and day to the point of outright distraction. He’d never bought a woman a rose since Cheryl. He’d never wined and dined a woman, either. He brimmed full of lust for her, bursting at the damn seams, but it was so much more than that.

She was from
his
world, a patch in his quilt, and she in his. He could see in her face that she was a bit tense at various intervals. The woman’s nerves did somersaults. He found it endearing, especially due to the fact that she undoubtedly believed she hid it well. He smiled inwardly, happy that he made a woman swoon for him a bit, and not due to his occupation.

“So.” He clasped his hands together on the table and leaned a little forward. “What made you decide to take me up on my offer?” He lifted his chin higher, ensuring he watched for body language, heard what she said, and saw in her expression what she refused to utter.

“Well.” She closed the wine menu that the waiter had accidentally left and placed it back down on the table. “I figured you may be good for a free meal,” she teased, causing him to turn away and laugh lightly.

Reaching across the table, he took her hand in his, and by her expression, that gesture surprised the hell out of her. He put slight pressure in his touch, then circled his thumb up and down her knuckles, warming them under his digit.

“Paris, look. I want you to enjoy yourself tonight and not have any worries. I’m not up to anything.” He felt this was the right time to say it, to feed her inhibitions a snack or two so that she may enjoy the moment.

“Famous last words,” she joked, hitching them on a rolling of her vibrant eyes.

“I know it’s hard for you to trust me, to trust men in general.”

She appeared to be interested in what he had to say as she sat a bit straighter, and looked at him head on.

“Just like I know women, you
know
men. We haven’t known each other long, but our phone conversations and recent interactions, though at times brief, have given me quite a bit of pleasure and understanding of you.” He paused, trying to read her, and narrowed his eyes on the feast before him, only this one required a tongue, not a spoon. “I
really
want you, Paris.”

“What makes you want me?” An ever so slight smile followed her question.

“Well, a lot. I like how you carry yourself, the way you express yourself. I like that you’re intelligent and self-made. Almost not needing to be said, but for the sake of all bases being covered, I like how you look…from your smooth, light brown skin, to your dark, sultry eyes. Your body is amazing. The thing that strikes me the most, however, is your resilience. I can spot my own kind. We’ve been through some shit, had some things happen in life that caused us to jump headfirst into survival mode. It was either that, or death. I like that you’re strong, Paris, but sweet at the same time.”

“I’m not sweet.” She grimaced.

He had an issue with why she said it with such disdain, as if he’d called her a bad name.

“Yes you are, but only with the
right
person…”

They sat in a short moment of silence.

“So, you think
you’re
the right person?” Slipping her hand away from his, she dug in her purse and removed her cellphone, rudely going through her text messages as he slumped back in his seat, watching her.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged and sucked his teeth. “Thanks, man.” A waiter came to their table and delivered a fresh loaf of bread, two glasses of water, and the bottle of wine. He poured their glasses, shared a few friendly words, then disappeared. Paris leaned over and delicately plucked her glass from the table, swirled the wine around just so, then took a dainty sip.

“You were saying…” She brought him back in the moment.

“I don’t know the answer to that, Paris. It’s too soon to know that. What I do know is that I have a yearning for you that I haven’t had for anyone else in a long ass time.”

“So you
yearn
for me?” Brow curved in a quizzical gesture, she took another sip, leaving a dark red imprint around the rim of her glass.

“Yeah, why is that so hard to believe?” He found himself becoming slightly annoyed with her.

He’d been working on her for far too long, he’d earned the right to be there with her, sharing dinner and so much more.

What the fuck is she doing?!

He was tired of being toyed with and teased. Either get with this or get left. He would not be made a fool of. Her resistance had initially seemed intriguing, at times humorous with a touch of cuteness. Now, it simply grated his nerves.

She shrugged and shook her head; her lips twisted as she snootily placed her glass back down. “It’s not that’s hard to believe, the thought of it, that is but the source is what I question.”

“I’m tired of this shit. You either want to fuck with me, or you don’t.”

I’m not playing around with you, Paris. If you keep on, I am done with you…and I mean that shit.

He didn’t miss the way she glowered and then, dipped her brows.

“Don’t look surprised!” he said angrily. “I’m not one of these silly ass tricks you are used to talking to, sizing up. I’m not sittin’ here to rent any fucking pussy. I’m sitting here because I want to
own
the pussy.”

“Ohhh!” She laughed mirthlessly. “Now the truth comes out! So this is about you trying to turn me out. You are a piece of—”

“Shit, yes, a piece of shit.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, prepared to go
in
. “Now that we’ve got that out the way, Paris, you’ve completely misunderstood what I was saying because you are totally on the defensive. In all of my history on this damn planet, I’ve never met a woman like you before, and now, I’m regretting that I have. I’ve only begged for pussy from
one
woman, in my entire life,”—he placed his finger in the air—“and that was my high school sweetheart. Besides her, I didn’t have to and I never did it again and I sure as fuck never will.”

“You’re charming…” She rolled her eyes and smirked.

“Yeah, contrary to you sitting there on your high horse, apparently I am. Women have found me to be amiable since I was a kid. I have been in love once. One time, Paris… You aren’t the only one that has been damaged and had a hard ass time in life. You can get that chip off your shoulder, pull that Drivin’ Ms. Daisy persona out of your tight little ass, and get wit’ some
real
pimping!” He popped his collar, sick of this shit. Smoke was sitting there now, in the motherfucking flesh. Brent had been dismissed, taken several damn seats… She opened her mouth to respond but he immediately spoke over her.

“Listen to me, and keep your mouth closed for a second! When I said
own
the pussy, I’m talking about a commitment! I’m sitting here like a goddamn square in some fancy ass restaurant with a woman, chatting with you, trying to get to know you, buying you shit! This isn’t some damn joke! I’ve sat here trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. You agreed to go out with me, so I made the dumb ass assumption that you had an open mind, wanted to get to know me even better, put the late night phone calls to rest. All I’m getting is attitude. Here I am, taking a chance, a risk, because I dig you. I know how and why you became this way. You’re hardcore on the outside, but soft as a stick of butter in your heart. I can see what you are, even when you are blind to the fact.”

The woman looked completely mortified as he read her like the DON’T WALK sign.

“If I
wanted
to turn you out, damn it, I would have fuckin’ said so. Better yet…
done
it!” He snapped his fingers. “And what pisses you off the most is that you
know
deep down, that may have been possible!” He looked her up and down as his lip curved upward in a fiendish grin.

“Totally delusional. You really have some ego on you,” she said smoothly as her beautiful eyes hooded.

“I have to. If you don’t think you’re the shit, people won’t treat you right out here.”

“Hmmm, and you’ve convinced many…There was a rumor that you had a doctor in your family at one time. Is that true?”

He was mystified and turned on by her cool demeanor under pressure. The angrier he got, the less she reacted. He hated that his dick got hard at her mere indifference.

“Pussycat, let’s put it this way. Since I got into my groove, I haven’t gotten next to one woman who I couldn’t turn the fuck out. I’ve had two damn lawyers in my stable, because they made more money with me than dealing with judges and meetings all damn day. So to answer your question, yes, and that doctor stayed with me for quite some time. Back to you and me though.” He folded his hands in his lap.

Oh no, he wouldn’t let her off the hook that easily. It became more than apparent to him what Paris was trying to do. Divert.

“Who spends $9,701 dollars on flowers for a bitch and they
aren’t
interested in more? And I’m not calling you a bitch but you know what the fuck I mean…” He narrowed his gaze on her. “That doesn’t make one lick of damn sense! I bought the fucking flowers because I knew you
loved
them, not to invest in you so I could try to sell your ass. I’ve watched you like a hawk because I fucking
want
to…because I like looking at you, studying you. You’re interesting to me, or at least, you were. The bigger point here is,” he said, slicking his tongue over his upper lip, “I have no desire to sell some ass that I want for my own goddamn
self
. Your head is so far up your butt due to being hurt and paranoid that you see us all the same. I’m a pimp, goddamn it, but I am a
good
one, some would say great, and part of the reason is because I don’t think like the average motherfuckers out here trying to peddle pussy. I know what the fuck I’m doing. I was born unknowingly into the game, it’s in my blood, it’s in yours too, and
no one
in this goddamn world understands a pimp and a whore, like a pimp and a whore!”