3
Now
DeSean
The headlinein the lifestyle section of the newspaper caught my eye. There she was again. Tegyn was making a name for herself, completely slaying life. “Git it, gurl.” I grinned and leaned back in my seat while I read the article. When I was finished absorbing every word written about her in the interview, I got all caught up in staring at her picture. She looked the same, as if she hadn’t aged a day. Her hair was redder than I remembered, but that was probably because she was trying to hide some of those white hairs I’d noticed back in the day. Damn, what I wouldn’t give to see her, to run my fingers through those shoulder length waves. I set the paper down and found Camilla glaring at me. “What you want?” I asked, the irritation obvious in my voice. “And I thought we agreed you’d start knocking. You live downstairs, remember?” Then I frowned. “Why you up here?”
Camilla smirked. “You don’t need to worry ‘bout that. I’m here about my boy.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “We need to talk.”
I rolled my eyes. She was known for fabricating excuses for us to talk. “What now? Does he have diaper rash? Use the butt paste I bought. It’ll heal. You want to talk preschool again? He’s already registered to start the fall after he turns three.” I sat up and folded my hands on the desk seriously. “You think you ain’t getting enough money? What more money you need? I buy all his clothes. I provide food for both of you. You pay for nothing here so you can get on your feet and move out.” I stared down at my laced fingers while I grumbled, “I don’t know what’s taking so long. You went back to work a year and a half ago.”
“That’s all you think about, huh? You just want me gone.” Her voice became an angry growl.
“I wouldn’t mind. And I sure as hell wouldn’t miss you.” I leaned back and offered a bored look. I’d seen this Camilla many times. Her dramatics never worked. We weren’t ever gonna work. Living together was making both of us miserable. We were frozen in a bad place, unable to move on with our separate lives. We made an agreement long ago that I’d never bring another woman to the house as long as she lived here. She’d agreed there’d be no other men because this was my motherfucking house. If I couldn’t have Tegyn, I wanted no one, which was why I was mostly miserable. Camilla was evil, which was why we couldn’t even co-parent together.
She stalked over to the desk, laid her hands down on the polished wood surface, an act she knew would annoy me, then leaned over and glared at me. “I want to talk about going for full custody of our son.”
“You’re gonna give him to me? That’s great. Thanks, Camilla.” I grinned, knowing full well that wasn’t what she meant. Holding him over my head was the one way she ensured I didn’t kick her ugly ass out. Threatening to keep him from me was her one Ace and she played it hard and regular.
“You know that’s not what I meant.” She scowled. “I want full custody.”
“No,” I replied succinctly. “Never.”
She opened her mouth and I expected it to shoot venom, but I didn’t have time for that at the moment. I was waiting on an important call from a new client, a local NFL player. This could be big for my business. I had plenty of room to grow, since my team had expanded.
Rather than wait for her to say one word, I stopped her by standing and crossing my arms over my chest. “Listen, I don’t have time for this. I’m sorry we ever married. I’m sorry we had a child together. If I could pick him a different mama, believe me I would.” Her eyes narrowed. “Still, I’m never giving my son up. Keyon will never have to worry about where his father’s at. Got it? Just stick to the damn agreement and we all good.”
I mighta said more, but my phone started ringing. We both glanced at the screen; I’m sure she expected it to be some woman, but it never was unless there was a job. And even then, I passed the female clients off on my female guards.
“I gotta take this. It’s a job.” Then I lifted the phone, slid my finger across the screen and gave her the eyes. You know…the get the fuck outta here ones.
“Fine. We ain’t done yet,” she hissed as she exited.
I sighed. “We never are.” When she closed the door behind her, I spoke. “Mr. Gentry,” I began calmly, “right on time.”
“First, please call me Paxton or Pax. Mr. Gentry is my father and I’ll never get used to that.”
“Whatever you’d like, Pax.” Hell, if I could shorten a few syllables, I was all for it. Plus, I liked to make sure we had a level of trust and familiarity for the job to run smoothly. “Ready to run through the particulars?”
“Yes, I am,” he responded. “I think we may be postponing the shoot for a few weeks. The director is sick and I hear they haven’t finalized the copy on the script, so we don’t have to go running off to L.A.”
I nodded. “That works for me. Be sure to let me know when you get a date so we can organize this.”
“I don’t normally feel the need for security,” Paxton muttered. “It’s just that the climate has been different for NFL players lately.”
I knew what he meant. People loved them or hated them ever since the kneeling controversy. “I understand.”
“So, they promised to give me at least a week notice. Will that work?” He sighed and I could hear a heaviness in his voice that wasn’t there the last time we spoke.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” he grumbled.
I licked my lips and considered whether or not to pry, but it might be relevant to my job. “Fine is not good. If something is bothering you, let me know. This all impacts my ability to protect you.”
He was silent for several seconds. “Nothing worth mentioning yet,” he mumbled. “I promise if something changes, I’ll let you. About everything. I gotta go for now.”
“Nice talking to you. I look forward to our next call.” I tried to keep it professional, but half the time it felt like dating. I had to dig into people’s lives, get to know them on a level they usually reserved for their inner circle. Instead, I was just this guy who was silently watching their backs.
The call ended and I sank back down into the chair. I had to leave for the club in a few hours. I had to get there early. There was a bikini contest taking place during happy hour in an effort to lure in more guys. I needed to be outside the dressing room while the ladies dressed. Not only was I responsible for keeping drunk guys out, I was in charge of making sure the weaves didn’t fly. Sistahs could get pretty intense during a competition.