Kiss Me On the Inside 2

Book 2: Kiss Me on the Inside

by Janice Burkett

Genres: African American; African American Urban

Synopsis

Keisha could never have predicted her downfall when she accepted a job offer from her uncle at Top Dot Records. She was hired to do whatever it took to get artists signed to his label, and she was good at it, but she soon found herself in a predicament when she decided to double dip by dating two artists on the label. When Hype learned of her betrayal, he set out on a mission to kill both Keisha and his label mate, Bling, but the plan went off track, and her uncle Patrick paid with his life. Keisha vowed to avenge her uncle’s death, but when she came face to face with her uncle’s killer, she got cold feet. She was taken hostage by the man she had betrayed, and he sold her to the highest bidder. Now Keisha is waking up from a coma after all that trauma. Maybe it’s a good thing she has amnesia and can’t remember what happened to her. She finds herself in the arms of her estranged husband for a while—but that is short lived, as her memory resurfaces and she realizes that she’s sleeping with the devil. Keisha seeks comfort from Bling, and as she falls in love with him, she sets out on a mission to take what she believes belongs to her. She might just be setting herself up for more drama because his wife isn’t going to give him up without a fight.

Release date: July 1, 2015

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

“Bling, Bling! Give us a statement,” the shouting paparazzi’s voices came at Bling as soon as he stepped outside the courthouse with his lawyer in tow.

Bling pushed his way through the barricade that was formed around him.

“Bling! Why aren’t you behind bars where you belong?” a female reporter stretched the microphone forward.

“My client is a free man,” his lawyer nonchalantly proclaimed as he adjusted his tie.

Bling was looking dapper in his gray Armani suit. But he quickly came to the realization that it doesn’t matter how well made or expensive his suit was, it wouldn’t stop people from thinking he deserved to rot in jail. He was hoping his ride would be waiting outside, but he didn’t see any sign of his friend Trey.

“How can they let a murderer walk free?” a male reporter’s voice shouted at him.

Bling had questions firing at him, and he didn’t care to give a comment or statement. Instead, he held his head down like a man that has lost his pride. Where the hell is Trey? he wondered, as the 80-degree temperature penetrated his skin. Trey was the only label mate that had his back while he was in jail when everyone else had put him in the wrong for taking Hype’s life.

“Bling, how does your wife feel about you having an affair?” another female voice shouted at him.

“Bling, is your wife filing for a divorce?”

The question resonated in Bling’s head. The thought of his wife filing for a divorce never crossed his mind because his plan was to make it right.

“Why don’t you ask me yourself?”

Bling heard a familiar voice and raised his head to see his wife exiting a black-tinted Range Rover with poise. The paparazzi lost interest in Bling and their lenses focused on Denise. She was looking confident in a knee-length black dress with leather trim at the side with her Tom Ford shades protecting her eyes from the beaming sun.

A look of confusion captured Bling’s face because he hadn’t seen his wife after purposefully blocking her from visiting him in jail.

“Are you going to stand by your husband?”

Denise made her way to Bling and greeted him with a kiss on his lips, extending her arm around the small of his back. “Why wouldn’t I stand by my husband? My vows were for better or worse,” she spoke with authority.

“Babe, what are you doing here?” Bling asked through gritted teeth, barely moving his lips.

“Do you honestly think that I wouldn’t be here to support my husband?” she replied to him while smiling for the cameras.

Bling didn’t know what to make of his wife’s showing up at the courthouse. Seeing her standing by his side defending him was mind-boggling.

“Are you saying that you will forgive your husband’s infidelities?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I will, in fact, be a good wife,” Denise declared.

“What exactly do you mean?”

“I will indeed forgive everything,” Denise gracefully stated as she displayed a wide smile for the cameras.

“My client and his wife will refrain from answering any more questions.”

Bling held on to his wife’s arm and scurried off to the vehicle but the paparazzi were still in hot pursuit.

“What about Keisha?”

The question stopped Denise in her tracks. She did an about-face and spoke with anger in her voice and fire in her eyes. “What about her? She was just a bitch for hire. Besides, if you offer a man food he will eat, but how can you compare the appetizer to the main course?”

Bling wanted to escape the commotion but the paparazzi bombarded them, blocking them from the vehicle. “You need to back up,” Bling demanded.

“Or else what? You’re gonna murder us like you did Hype?”

Bling held his composure and pushed his way into the vehicle and closed the door. “I didn’t want you to be involved in this mess.” He reached for his wife’s hand.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” Denise declared as she scooted herself to the opposite side of the seat. “Do you think I’m really here to support your cheating ass?”

Bling was taken aback by her change in demeanor. “So were you just putting on a show for the cameras?” he curiously asked.

“It’s called damage control. They needed to know that I wasn’t at home being a damsel in distress.”

“This is bullshit.” Bling shook his head.

“The bullshit is you screwing your damn whore while I’m at home being naïve thinking that you love me!” Denise’s voice was on high.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you! I just . . .” Bling struggled to find the right words.

“Wasn’t I freaky enough? Wasn’t my pussy always shaved and waiting?” Denise’s anger started to boil.

“Come on, Denise, you don’t have to go there. I don’t want to talk about this.” It was as if Bling was shamed by her words.

“No?” She was livid. “You don’t have the privilege of deciding what you don’t talk about.” She made her way over to him grabbing his shirt. “You need to tell me what the problem was.”

“I was the problem!” He wanted the conversation to be over with. He was just granted his freedom, and fighting with his wife wasn’t on the top of his to-do list.

“Wasn’t I spontaneous enough for you?” She started undoing his belt.

“Stop it, Denise! Stop it!” Bling firmly grabbed her hands.

“Would you be telling that bitch to stop? Or would you let her take you into her mouth and have her way with you? Tell me!” she screamed at him.

“I don’t want to talk about Keisha,” Bling spoke directly to her face.

Denise’s finger came up against his cheek hard. “Don’t you ever say her name in my presence again!” She scooted away from him.

Bling brought his hand to his face hoping to soothe the burn, but it stung even more.

“You humiliated me, but you know what pisses me off the most?” She stared out the window. “The first time I met her at the appreciation ceremony when you signed your contract, I knew something was off. I remember vividly that you disappeared, both of you, because Hype was also curious of where that bitch had gone. I went searching for you but you were nowhere to be found. But you came back with that silly excuse about going outside to make a phone call. Then that whore strolls in with that silly grin on her face—and I hear rumors that you were screwing her in the damn bathroom. Where was your love for me then?” Tears escaped her eyes.

The vehicle was in silence. Bling didn’t speak another word, neither did Denise. They both sat in misery trying to put the pieces to the puzzle together.

The vehicle came to a stop and a rustic voice spoke. “We are here, Mrs. Mills. Should I get the bag out of the trunk?” the driver asked.

“Yes,” Denise replied, swiftly wiping her tears.

Bling glanced out the window and saw that he was at the Marriott Hotel. “Shouldn’t we be going home?” His eyes met with hers.

“Well, you thought wrong.” Denise exited the vehicle and Bling followed. “Thanks, Max.” Denise took the Louis V. duffle bag from the driver.

“So you’re just going to dump me here?” Bling queried as he stepped out of the vehicle.

Denise dropped the bag at his feet. “This will be your home until further notice.”

“What?” Bling asked, feeling blindsided.

“Did you really expect to come home with me?” Denise spoke without compassion. “The room is already booked. Come up with a good reason why I shouldn’t divorce your lying ass.” Denise brought her Tom Ford shades over her eyes and stepped past her husband with her head held high.

Bling stood there with a look of emptiness in his eyes, watching the Range Rover disappear out of his sight. His right foot kicked his bag hard, as if he were a soccer player. “Ahhhhhhh,” he bellowed from the pit of his guts. His frustration could be heard far and near. Bling knew that even though he was free from murder charges he still had to be tried in his wife’s court of cheating.

He grabbed his overnight bag by the straps and with each step he took, his reality sank in deeper.

“This hotel is now your home until further notice.” He took another step and Denise’s voice replayed in his head. “Come up with a good reason why I shouldn’t divorce your lying ass.” The automatic door slid open, giving him access, and he took a deep breath accepting his reality.

“Welcome to the Marriott Hotel,” the receptionist greeted him with a smile.

Bling was in no mood to be cheerful so he got straight to the point. “I have a room reserved.”

“Your name, please?” she asked.

“Anthony Mills.”

The receptionist tap-danced her fingers over the keyboard. “Room #303 is ready for you.” She handed him the key card.

Bling didn’t care to exchange another word. He just wanted to get to his room. As he approached the elevator the door opened, letting off a man yelling on his cell phone, barking orders to get the job done right. He pressed the button for the third floor, then took a step back and closed his eyes, taking in a moment of tranquility. The elevator came to its stop all too soon because Bling was in a zone. A young blonde cradling her poodle like a baby stepped in before he could exit, and he stepped sideways letting her on. The arrow on the wall pointed him in the direction of his room, and he walked off to his right. He slid the key card and the green light blinked, accepting his request to enter.

As soon as he stepped in the room, he tossed the bag aside and removed his suit jacket. The AC was on full blast. He had no complaint about that. Bling dropped his body hard on the bed, then positioned himself on his back, staring at the ceiling.

What do I say to my wife? How do I explain to her that my heart betrayed me too? My heart wasn’t supposed to race for any other woman. But it ran wild for Keisha. Bling remained stoic as he reminisced on the day his wife came to visit him in jail.

“Why?”

He remembered her screaming at him as he desperately searched his soul for a logical reason that would comfort her without causing her more grief, but he only found the truth, and the truth would hurt her to the core. I was tempted, and I couldn’t resist. But he didn’t dare utter those words.

“I don’t deserve this,” his wife cried out to him.

He kept his head down because her eyes were sad, and he knew she needed him to console her. But instead of giving her comfort, he got up and cut the visit short.

“I hate you!” Bling remembered his wife yelling while she banged on the partition that separated them. But Bling remained emotionless, even though his heart ached. It wasn’t because he didn’t care but because he knew that behind bars he had to hold his emotions intact.

Bling became overwhelmed and a queasy feeling consumed his body so he got off the bed and headed to the bathroom where he washed his face, then stared at himself in the mirror. He was disgusted at the person that stared back at him.

“What the hell did you do?” he spoke to his reflection. “You had it good, but you fucked it up! What were her faults? Not being freaky enough?” he retorted. “What explanation can you face her with? Except that you are a man with no respect or loyalty for your wife. You cheated on your wife with a damn bitch for hire!” He was livid.

His fist connected with the mirror, but the mirror won the fight. “Holy shit!” Bling yelled as the glass penetrated into his skin. Without delay, his hand went straight for the water. “Fuck!” His pain intensified when the hot water scorched his wound.

The white towel that was situated on the sink became his Band-Aid. He wrapped his knuckles while grunting like an old man with arthritis trying to climb a staircase.

Bling caught sight of his reflection in what was left of the broken mirror and with his wounded hand he went to war again, throwing fists until there was no trace of the mirror left on the wall.

“I have to get out of here. I need to clear my head.” Bling left the bathroom, and his feet were in motion to the door. “I wouldn’t want to forget this.” He grabbed the key card and left the room on a journey to set his thoughts free in the universe.

The automatic door in the lobby slid open, acknowledging his presence, and he embraced the fresh air by inhaling deeply. “Just what I needed,” he declared. As he descended the few steps that led him away from the hotel he thought about his wife’s change in personality. In fact, she was more like a boss lady instead of the submissive woman that she used to be. He was half a block in his walk when the sky opened up, and the rain poured down on him. “What the hell?” He ran back to the hotel. “Damn it,” he expressed his vexation.

“Somebody got a little wet, I see,” the receptionist called out to him.

Bling looked over at the receptionist who was making her way from behind the desk. “It’s just water, no harm done,” he spoke without enthusiasm.

“I can get you a towel,” she offered.

“I’m heading up to my room. I’ll be fine.” He declined her offer.

“I have a better idea,” she said with a smile on her face.

Bling viewed her name tag, then brought his eyes back to her face. “Jordonna, is it? I don’t want to be rude, but I have a lot on my plate, so if propositioning me with sex is your better idea, I don’t want to hear it. And I definitely don’t want it.” He walked away.

“Wow, don’t you have a big ego!” She rolled her eyes at him.

“It is what it is,” he spoke, looking back at her.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I was just going to suggest that you have some rum and orange juice at the bar. My father often says it’s a good remedy to fight off a cold.” She raised her voice so he could hear her.

Bling brought his attention back to the receptionist. She was very attractive. She wore her Brazilian hair weave long with a side swipe to the right. Her cheekbones stood strong, defining her Jamaican ethnicity. She rolled her eyes at him and walked back to her post. Bling couldn’t help but look at her ass because it jiggled with each step she took.

He had misread her intention, but that was the least of his worries. “I guess I’ll go have a drink after all.”

He tightened the gap between him and the bar and a person shouted in disappointment, “Mello, you suck.” With that statement he knew the New York Knicks were probably losing the game. Bling seated himself and surveyed the room, then focused his attention on the 52-inch plasma TV that was mounted on the wall and the New York Knicks were, in fact, losing the game. He observed the bartender pouring from a full bottle of Hennessey and his palate wanted just that. “I’ll take that bottle off your hands!”

“It can’t be that bad,” the bartender chatted back.

“You have no idea,” Bling replied.

The bartender planted the bottle with a glass, but Bling took the bottle to his mouth.

“Think about your liver, bro,” the bartender cautioned him.

Bling swallowed hard and rubbed his chest as the liquor burned while going down. “I’m drinking to celebrate my freedom. And secondly, my wife evicted me from our home. My marriage was next to perfect, but I wanted more, and I ruined it all.” He took another long drink from the bottle.

“Women can be forgiving, man. Just be creative.” The bartender was now a member of Bling’s pity party, keenly listening to Bling’s tales.

“How about if you help me come up with a creative reason for cheating on my wife, then killing my mistress’s lover.” He took another long drink.

“There’s no coming back from that.” The bartender slid a beer to another patron, who also tuned into Bling’s tales.

“Well, for now, I’ll just drown my sorrows.” The 32-oz bottle was more than half empty.

“Aren’t you . . . ?” The bartender pointed his finger. After taking a good stare at him, he said, “Aren’t you that dude? That artist charged with—”

“Not guilty. I’m a free man.” He tilted his head back, downing what was left in the bottle.

“I’m going to need your autograph, man. This is too good to be true.” The bartender’s hand dipped in the tip jar removing a dollar bill. Then he rummaged under the counter trying to find a pen.

“Woo! Burn, baby, burn.” Bling hit his chest while getting off the stool. He took a few steps but couldn’t keep his balance.

“We meet again,” Jordonna exclaimed as she broke his fall.

“I took your advice,” Bling said with a smile.

She brought him to his feet. “Which was . . .?” she probed.

“You said a strong drink will make me feel better.” He stumbled backward.

“I said no such thing,” she defended herself.

“My autograph,” the bartender shouted as he made his way to the other side of the counter.

“Autograph, for what?” Jordonna interrogated as she struggled to hold him up.

“That’s Bling, one of Top Dot Records’s major artists,” the bartender excitedly spoke.

“I need another drink,” Bling mumbled.

“Regardless of who you are, you’re in no position to drink anything but water, so have a seat. On second thought, I’ll escort you to your room.”

“Just sign for me, man,” the bartender solicited holding the dollar bill and the pen.

Bling scribbled his name. It seemed as if he was still in preschool.

Jordonna struggled with him to the elevator. He was much too wasted for her to handle on her own. She was like an ant carrying a loaf of bread.

“Is that a victim?” the new receptionist on duty inquired.

“Victim of the bottle,” Jordonna responded while pulling Bling into the elevator.

“Where are you taking me?” Bling slurred his speech.

“To your room,” she replied.

Bling pushed all the buttons in the elevator and instead of going to the third floor they were on an expedition to the garage.

“Oops,” he said while burping.

“You are a mess.” Jordonna shook her head.

“I need to go home to my wife.” Bling pointed his index finger in a scolding manner while bracing so he wouldn’t fall. He was now unbuttoning his shirt. “I don’t feel too good. Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” He was on his third button.

“Oh no, you don’t. You better button your shirt before this door opens up. I wouldn’t want anybody getting the wrong idea.” She started to button his shirt, but for each one she closed, Bling opened another.

“I really-don’t-feel-too-good.” His stomach revolted, and he vomited all over Jordonna’s blouse.

“Ugh!” She jumped away from him and was now unbuttoning her blouse. “And you better not get the wrong idea.” She was out of her blouse and her pink push-up bra held her B-cups in place.

“I will not be tempted.” Bling turned his back to her and took his shirt off.

“Boy, please, I’m not trying to tempt, seduce, or trap you,” Jordonna said, turning her back to him.

They came to a stop, this time at the third floor. The door opened and a lady quickly covered her daughter’s eyes.

“You two should be ashamed of yourselves,” the woman scolded.

“It’s not what you think,” Jordonna stated while exiting, using Bling as a block.

Bling lazily tried to insert the key card but after the second futile attempt Jordonna took over and access was granted. She sprinted to the bathroom while Bling stumbled to the bed. “You can let yourself out,” he bellowed.

“What the hell happened in here?” she hollered back, seeing the pieces of glass from the broken mirror.

“Put it on my tab.” He spoke loud enough so she could hear him over the running water. Bling fell facedown on the bed kicking his shoes off his feet. “Why is this damn room spinning? I command you to stop right now.” After a few minutes of silence Bling got up off the bed stumbling. “I need to use the bathroom and you’ve been in there for too long. What’s your name again? Jon . . . don’t tell me. Jordon, like the sneaker? Wait. I got it! Jordonna. You gonna let me piss on myself, woman!” He banged on the door.

“I just need the iron to dry my blouse, then I’ll be out of here.” Jordonna exited the bathroom.

Bling pushed past her unbuckling his belt. “Ahhh! Shit!” he yelled as a piece of broken glass cut through his sock. He wanted to piss his pants. In that moment Bling had to make a quick decision. Piss or nurse his wound. But with a clenched fist and tightened jaw he emptied his bladder without doing the ritual of putting the seat up. He drained his tank for what seemed to be an eternity, and he definitely wasn’t shooting straight.

After a few more seconds his bladder was finally empty, and he pivoted on his right foot, limping to the tub where he took a seat and removed his sock. There was a visible piece of glass sticking from his foot. He pulled on the splinter. “Ahh!” He quickly realized that it was more than a small splinter. The shard of glass went deep.

“Is everything OK in here?” Jordonna came rushing to the door. “If you’re hurting like that while taking a piss you really need to give your doctor a call.”

Bling yanked the glass from his foot. The white towel at the side of the tub was now decorated with blood. He quickly placed his foot under the faucet, and the water turned from light pink to red.

“Do you want me to call an ambulance?” Jordonna asked with concern in her voice.

“No, I’m fine. Just pass me one of those towels so I can wrap my foot.” Bling shuffled out of his pants, exposing his red boxer briefs.

Jordonna scanned his body from head to toe. His ass was firm, and his sculpted legs were strong. “I hope you’re planning to keep your boxers on.” She swallowed hard trying to suppress the urge to reach out and touch him. Jordonna handed him the towel and left the bathroom, not wanting to be tempted.

Bling wrapped his foot really tight. He removed his belt from his pants, using it to firmly secure the towel on his foot, then hopped out of the bathroom and took a seat on the bed, reclining his back on the pillow.

Jordonna glided the iron back and forth over her blouse keeping focus on her task. Bling was almost naked with only his boxers covering his package. Even if you were the pastor’s wife you would be lusting. Jordonna’s eyes drifted to his bulging manhood. He seemed to be well compensated.

“I’m feeling a little hungry, what about you?” he asked browsing through the hotel menu.

“I’ll grab a bite on my way home.” S. . .