Page 37 of Big Mad
Now my woman was tipsy, walking bow-legged, and sunset was falling over the Quarter. The air grew thick with blaring trumpets and fried shrimp. Lanterns flickered above iron balconies, and I couldn’t take my eyes off Maddy.
“So.” I slid my hands into the pockets of my linen slacks as we strode up the next block. “You ate brunch kind of early. Dinner?”
She cut me a side-eye. “Hmm. You’re worried the night’s over at seven?”
I glanced at my Rolex, having zero issues with being corny as hell. “Six-fifty-seven if that makes a difference.”
“Ah, that actually makes a difference. A very insignificant difference. You can do better than that, Judge?—”
“Maddy, don’t.” I shook my head, my smile already on a sliding scale.
“Okay,Mr. Head of State.”
“Bruh, I just told you.”
She shrugged, smiles coming as easily as they had when she was eighteen and all mine. “What? You told me to lay off the judge titles. I did. However, I’ll have you know that justice doesn’t need to come with a reflection.” She stared at my head.
“Not too long ago, I’d sit between your thighs while your hands worked magic over my head. When I turned around, on my knees to thank you? You’d scream my name. Now, you wanna nickname my head?” I leaned in close enough to distinguish her perfume from the lingering smells in the Quarter. “The sun’s almost down. Don’t tell meDome Daddyhas a reflection.”
Madison blinked, her sass falling enough for me to catch that smile.
She offered that littlemm-hmmwave. Before she could stroll away or hit me with her clutch, I stepped in front of her. “Don’t tell me you still aren’t in love with myheadgame.”
We didn’t shift, our gazes fixed, lost in those past moments. The jazz from a nearby balcony poured down like honey, and Madison’s lips parted. She licked them. “Wash, pun intended with that?”
I shrugged.
mad
. . .
Why hadn’t Washington counted my tardiness against me? That man forgot nothing, and the punctuality section of our contract was exhaustive. Well, if he wasn’t angry, this girl would be a reformed self-snitch.
Well into the evening, I’d wanted to brush the back of my hand against his forehead. He’d been so sweet, trying to protect me around Bridget. As if he knew?
No. He wouldn’t have let her slide at the funeral for calling mechildfree. For the insinuation. Not a chance.
In the worst-case scenario, he’d make her look dumb in front of her mimosa crew. Best-case scenario? The same thing. An entire monologue thesis, except he would’ve finished her with a side of Crystal Hot Sauceanda mic drop. In retrospect, the best-and worst-case scenarios might need to be flipped. Since I would’ve loved to see him slay her ass.
But speaking of women who acted a plumb fool because of money, I wondered if he would feel me when I gave thebriefdescription of my decision to create Francisco Philippe vases for Omari. Yeah, he’d understand, right? As the car smoothed over the Crescent City Connection, the bridge’s lights blurred into streaks. I shifted in my seat, rehearsing what I’d say.So,I’d begin, because every intellectual convo began with that two-letter word.Omari commissioned me to make a few fake vases.
Then he’d ask me to elaborate on the fakeness of the situation.
Nope. Not gonna do it.
Note to self: the only mention offakeincludes us … our relationship.Fake and forced.
“Where are we going?” I asked ten minutes later. The streetlight hit that head with such perfection that my chest thumped. I found myself captivated by this man. My entire body was ready to commit anarchy. Lawd, why did he mention how I once massagedDome Daddy?So disrespectful to my lady areas, which wanted to remain incognito.
Washington stopped in the parking lot of a suspicious, boxy warehouse. No windows. A few cars. The only streetlight cast a dim glow half a block away, leaving his sexy bald head sitting in a lonely shadow. I crossed my arms. “Where are we?”
“Rage room.”
“Why?”
Washington got out of his rented Range Rover.
I remained frozen when he came around to open the passenger door.
