Big Daddy Sinatra: Papa Don't Play Read online

  Bo looked at Trevor, and saw a side of him he’d never seen before. He knew the guy was powerful. He wouldn’t have hired his consulting firm if he wasn’t. But he was acting gangster now. He was seeing a totally different dude now. And he understood this language. He understood that Trevor didn’t just voice a threat to him, but a fact.

  “Do we understand each other, Mr. Midas?” Trevor asked him.

  And Bo quickly nodded his head, which was about the only thing on his body that he still could move.

  Charles and Jenay were still asleep inside the penthouse when Jenay suddenly opened her eyes. When she could see out of the penthouse floor-to-ceiling windows that night had fallen, she bolted upright. And looked at the clock on the nightstand.

  “Oh, my word! Charles,” she said, pushing him and getting out of bed. “Charles!”

  Charles was slow to wake up, but he woke up frowningly. “What?”

  “It’s after eight, get up.” She found her panties on the floor and began putting them on.

  Charles, naked too, got out of bed. “We slept that long?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Jenay said. “Look outside.”

  He did, then looked at Jenay. “So what’s the big deal?” he asked. “Bonita’s with Makayla and Brent, Junior in Arizona. They aren’t due back until Sunday night. We don’t have anybody to answer to.”

  “But we agreed to have dinner with Miller and his wife. Remember that?”

  Charles didn’t remember it at all. And now that he did, he wished he could forget it again.

  But Jenay was in a hurry. “I hate being late,” she said, as she put on her bra.

  Charles slipped on his briefs and trousers too, all the while looking at his wife. “Maybe we can call and cancel,” he suggested. “It’s not like neither one of us are up to this dinner.”

  “We’ve got to eat,” Jenay said, “and they’re probably already downstairs. Just get ready.”

  She hurried into the bathroom, to freshen up.

  Her determination usually pleased Charles. But since she was determined to have dinner with a man he was willing to bet had the hots for her, he wasn’t in any particular hurry himself.

  But Jenay was right. Miller was already downstairs, along with Lauren, his friend, who shook her head. “This is a lousy idea, Mill,” she said.

  “Just humor me, alright?” Miller responded.

  “But why do you have to pretend to have a wife? Why can’t you just introduce me as your longsuffering friend which, by the way, I am.”

  “Friend my ass,” Miller said. “You’re a prostitute. I don’t have hoes for friends.”

  Lauren could have been upset, but she knew Miller too well.

  “Just stop worrying about it,” Miller said. “You just play your role, collect your coins, and be on your merry way.”

  “Everybody in this town has to know by now you aren’t married. You’ve probably already slept with half of their women anyway. Why do I have to play the wife?”

  “Because you’re the only one I can trust. And stop complaining. You’re be back in Boston before daybreak. Back on your corner. And a couple thousand bucks richer besides.”

  Lauren smiled. “That’s the only good part about this so-called role.” Then she looked at Miller. “She’s worth all of this?” she asked.

  Miller hadn’t told her anything about Jenay, or why exactly he wanted her to pretend to be his wife. He nodded. “Yes,” he said.

  And then, ten minutes later, he saw her. Walking down the stairs with her husband at her side. Lauren looked too. “Is that her?” she asked.

  Miller’s heart squeezed, but not in an affectionate way. “That’s her.”

  “She’s cute alright,” Lauren said, “but I didn’t know you were into black girls. I thought blonds were your thing.”

  “They are,” he said. And then he smiled. “And then there’s Jenay.”

  “Who’s she with? He’s hunky. Wow. That’s a good looking man. Who is he?”

  Miller dismissed him. “That’s her husband. He’s aw’ight.”

  Lauren smiled and looked at Miller. “Ah. She’s married. Thus, you need to be married to keep the husband at bay. I get it now!” Then she realized something profound. “Don’t tell me you call yourself in love with this woman?”

  Miller didn’t respond. That was none of her business. He, instead, stood up as Charles and Jenay arrived at their table. “We meet again,” he said with a grand smile. He and Charles shook hands. Lauren stood up too. “I want you guys to meet my wife. Her name’s Lauren.”

  Jenay gladly shook her hand. “So nice to meet you,” she said. She knew Miller was into white women and white women only, so the woman’s race was no surprise. But it still felt as if there was something odd about their coupling.

  It felt odd to Charles too, as he shook Lauren’s hand. She was a cute enough girl, but he would have thought a guy like Miller would have gone for the best of the best women out there. This female was hardly good looking enough, he would think, to wrangle a man like Miller Franklin. In Charles’s mind, something was off. But then again, he thought, she could be rich.

  After introductions, they all sat down at the table, with Miller and Lauren on one side, Charles and Jenay on the other side. Charles placed his arm around Jenay, as their wait staff immediately attended to their drink and dinner orders.

  When the staff left their table, Miller leaned forward. “So you own this, Charles?” he asked.

  “Jenay and I own it, yes,” Charles responded.

  “It’s nice. I’ve got to give you your props, man. It’s gorgeous.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So how did you guys meet?” Lauren asked Miller. “You and Jenay.”

  Charles and Jenay glanced at each other. Miller’s own wife didn’t know?

  “She’s my sister-in-law,” Miller said, realizing his error. “I told you, remember?”

  Lauren was floored at first. “Your sister-in-law?” Miller had the hots for his sister-in-law? Then she realized she had to go along with whatever. “Oh, yeah, right. You did tell me she’s your sister-in-law.”

  “Former sister-in-law,” Charles corrected them.

  “Right,” Miller said with a smile. “My former sister-in-law. She was married to my deceased brother. He had two kids.” Then Miller looked at Jenay. “How are they, by the way?”

  Charles and Jenay glanced at Miller. For him to ask about his nieces as if they were an afterthought seemed weird to them. “They’re good,” Jenay said.

  “That’s good,” Miller said as if he didn’t care either way. “But how we really met,” he said to Lauren, “was over crabs.”

  Lauren frowned. “What?” she asked, and Jenay and Miller laughed.

  “It’s true,” Jenay said. “They had a family get together in Mississippi, and Quince and I, along with the girls, went down south to see his family for the first time. That’s when I first met Miller.”

  “When he lived in Mississippi?” Lauren asked. She did know that much about him.

  “That’s right,” Jenay said.

  “But isn’t this something?” Miller asked. “Me running into you like this, and you’re running all of this.” He was looking around again. “I’m impressed. I remember when you were worried if you would ever get a job after your divorce. Now, you don’t even have to work. You’ve come a long way, Nay Nay.”

  Charles looked at Miller. Jenay remembered how Quince’s family took to calling her that name when she visited them in Mississippi. “God has brought me from a mighty long way,” she said.

  “Yes, he has,” Lauren said dismissively, and sucked her teeth. Charles looked at Lauren. Being married to Miller, apparently, was no picnic for her.

  “Those were good times, though,” Miller said, refusing to minimize it. “You were a really good wife to Quince. He didn’t appreciate it, but the family did.”

  “Thanks, Mill,” Jenay responded. “You weren’t a bad brother-in-law yourself.”

>   “Because I stayed out of my brother’s business?”

  “Exactly right,” Jenay said, and Miller laughed.

  “Do you two need a hotel room, or what?” Lauren asked.

  Jenay found that an odd thing to say, especially since she and Charles just had a hotel room, and she and Charles both looked at her. Miller kicked her under the table.

  Lauren smiled. “Just kidding,” she said, and Jenay and Miller laughed too. Charles, however, wasn’t the least bit amused.

  “How did you two meet?” Miller, seeing his displeasure, asked. He was sitting there looking all superior and smug, Miller thought. That was why he never liked white guys. That was why he always took their women: to get under their skin.

  “I was doing my internship at a hotel in Boston,” Jenay said, answering his question, “and was in charge of overseeing his son’s wedding.”

  “Another wedding?” Miller asked. “So you’re an old pro at handling weddings.”

  “Keep going,” Lauren said to Jenay.

  “We talked,” Jenay said. “Started seeing each other. I moved to Maine to give our relationship a chance.”

  “So you moved to be with him,” Miller said, “not the other way around?”

  Charles looked at Miller. Was he trying to make something of it?

  “That’s right,” Jenay responded. “I moved to Jericho. And I’m glad I did. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  “Did you know she was the one right away, Charles?” Lauren asked.

  Charles nodded. “I think I did,” Charles said. “Yes.”

  Jenay knew Charles was saying that because he didn’t want to go into any details with these people, and she didn’t dispute his recollection. She was kind of wary of Lauren too. But she was beginning to become even more wary of Miller.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Carly unlocked the door of her Boston home and walked in. She finally made it home eleven at night after dealing with clients and crisis after crisis all evening long. But when she entered her home and turned on the light in her living room, she stopped in her tracks. Trevor Reese, after a three-day absence, was sitting, legs crossed, on the middle of her sofa. And he was none too happy. “I thought I told you not to work this late,” he said.

  But Carly was thrilled. Seeing his fine self sitting there, with his long, wavy hair and beautiful violet eyes, made her even more excited to see him. “Trevor,” she said and ran to him. He smiled, too, opened his arms, and corralled her onto his lap. They began kissing immediately, in a playful, happy to be together way. Until Trevor stopped, and looked deep into her eyes. And Carly knew, without him having to say a word, that play time was over.

  He stood up, and laid her onto the sofa. “Happy to see me?” he asked as he unbuttoned her pants.

  “I am, yes,” Carly responded as he pulled them down, along with her panties, until they were off one of her legs.

  “Want to be with me?” he asked her as he opened her legs.

  She arched when his mouth touched her. “Yes,” she said in a breathless voice.

  Trevor continued to talk to her, as he licked her. He continued to breath heavier and heavier as he opened her wider, and moved down deeper.

  He didn’t stop speaking, in words she could barely hear because of the huskiness of his voice, until he had moved on top of her, unzipped his pants, pulled out his fully aroused penis, and was entering her. Then all talking ceased, and he groaned.

  Carly held onto his strong body as his movements increased inside of her. His hands cupped her ass as he lifted her half off of the sofa while he fucked her. She never felt more alive, and more like a woman in love until Trevor put it on her. And he was putting it on her with long, deep strokes that caused her to frown, but not in anger. Carly frowned because of the pleasure his cock was giving to her, and how painful it was because of the size. She felt both pleasure and pain all at once. Until he continued to fuck her, and it was all good.

  Trevor began kissing her when his time was coming near. And he was going to ejaculate soon. He always ejaculated far sooner with Carly than with any other woman he’d ever had. Here stuff made him feel that good, and that powerful, and that sensual. And when he came, it shook him to his core. So much so that Carly came too, leaning her head back with unparalleled joy. He couldn’t make another stroke when she came, or he felt he would stroke out. He squeezed her ass as hard as he could, strained out the last of his silkiness inside of her, and then fell onto the sofa, with her still in his arms.

  When it was all over, they laid on the sofa, arm in arm, with Carly now on top of him. He rubbed the back of his hand against the softness of her brown face. And then they, as per usual with lovers who worked together, talked shop. “How did it go today?” he asked her.

  Carly didn’t immediately respond. She wanted to dismiss what happened today, she would love to just forget about it, but she knew she couldn’t. Trevor would find out one way or another. “Bo Midas came to the office demanding to see you,” she said. “When I told him you were out of town; he wouldn’t accept what I was saying. It got a little heated and we, eventually, got into it.”

  Carly looked at Trevor when she made that statement. She expected him to be upset with her, with Bo, with both of them. But he just continued to rub her face and stare at her. Was he waiting for a further explanation? “What I mean about getting into it,” she said, “is that he slapped me, and I slapped him back.” Still no reaction from Trevor.

  She was a little disappointed by his non-reaction, but she knew she had to tell the full story. “But that wasn’t the worse of it,” she continued. “Our little encounter was captured by somebody, I’m assuming a member of Bo’s entourage based on the camera angle, and posted on the internet. I saw the video, and it’s not a pretty sight.”

  It would be another few seconds, and then Trevor finally spoke up. “I thought I told you not to ever work this late,” he said as if what she’d just said was of no importance.

  Carly lifted her head higher. “That’s all you have to say?”

  “It can be dangerous in those streets. Why are you getting home at this time of night?”

  “Because I had five clients on my schedule, and all five had an individual, life-altering crisis that had to be dealt with.” Carly was flustered. “That’s why I thought you made me your PR Director. To handle days like this. You’ve had more than I’ve ever had. You know what it’s like.”

  “You’re wrong,” Trevor said, rubbing her hair.

  Carly looked at him. “I’m wrong about what?”

  “The reason I made you my PR director.”

  Carly’s heart pounded. “Because I know my craft. I would hope that’s the reason.”

  “Nope,” Trevor said.

  “Then why did you hire me?”

  “Because you had the tightest little ass I’ve ever seen.”

  Carly was about to object.

  “And you knew your craft,” he added. “Maybe the knowing your craft part first, but certainly not the only part.”

  Carly smiled. “You’re awful, you know that, don’t you?”

  Trevor wasn’t smiling. His life, his work, confirmed that for him daily. “Yes,” he said. “A lot of men are. That’s why I don’t want you working late, coming home this late, when I’m out of town.”

  “And while we’re on the subject of coming home,” Carly said, “why are you here at all? I thought you weren’t due back in town for another few days. Why did you come back so early?”

  “It’s temporary. I have to go back in the morning.”

  Carly frowned. “You have to go back? Then why did you come in the first place, Trevor?”

  “Because I saw that video too,” Trevor finally admitted and, for the first time during their conversation, looked her dead in the eyes. “I had to come back and take care of that.”

  At first Carly couldn’t understand why he would already know about it, but then concluded that Bridgette must have contacted him. She’d been working for Tre
vor long enough to feel she could take that liberty. Or, Carly wondered, did he tell Bridgette to keep tabs on her? She was always hovering around her and acting like some mother hen whenever Trevor was out of town. But then Carly decided it didn’t matter how he found out about the video. What mattered was that he came to see about her. “You came back because of that little confrontation?”

  “That wasn’t a little confrontation,” Trevor corrected. “He slapped you. He slapped my woman.” He looked at her. “What do you think I was going to do?”

  Carly smiled, and snuggled tighter in his arms. Then she thought about it, and looked at him again. “What did you do?” she asked him.

  He kissed her. He held her tighter. But he never answered her question. He, instead, lifted her into his arms, and carried her upstairs to bed.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Charles woke up to the sound of loud conversations downstairs. It was early Saturday morning, barely seven-thirty, and he was not an early riser. But the conversations were too intense to ignore. Jenay was already up and about somewhere, but that was expected. She was an especially early riser. But because she wasn’t beside him, and he wasn’t sure if he could place the voices he was hearing, he got up, tied a bathrobe around his naked body, and headed downstairs.

  In his kitchen, at the center island, was his son Donald and his adopted daughter Ashley on one side, and his next-to-the-oldest son Tony on the other. They were in a heated discussion that was, to Charles, far too animated for this time of morning.

  “What is going on down here?” he asked as he entered the kitchen, looking none too happy to be awaken this way.

  “I’m trying to educate your children on the possibilities in life,” Tony responded.

  “Educate us?” Ashley asked. “You mean badger us. Just because you like artsy movies, we don’t. Just because you like visiting museums and attending symphony orchestra concerts, we don’t.”

  “And we don’t have to like them to be well rounded individuals,” Donald said.