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“You got that right!” their mother interjected. She had moved down the aisle and was suddenly standing beside them.
Kamaya smiled. “You still love me?”
Katherine waved a dismissive hand at her. “Don’t I always?”
The three women smiled brightly at each other. Their ensuing conversation was calm and easy, Kamaya falling back into balance with everyone.
The flight attendant interrupted the moment. “Ma’am, the pilot is preparing the plane for landing. We’ll need you to take a seat and put your seat belt on, please.”
Katherine nodded, hesitating for one minute longer. “Are you coming to the house after we land?” she asked, meeting Kamaya’s stare.
Kamaya shook her head. “I don’t think so. I really need to stop in at the office and check on things, and then I want to go home and catch up on some sleep.”
Her mother nodded. “Plan on lunch next week. I need to make sure you’re really okay.”
Kamaya smiled, exchanging a look with her sister. “Yes, ma’am.”
* * *
“Yes, ma’am. I will. Yes, ma’am.” Wesley Leroy Walters was nodding into his cell phone.
On the other end, his mother, Annie Walters was cataloging a lengthy list of must-dos and expectations. “And I want you to get to church sometime soon,” the older woman said.
His father laughed, chiming in on their three-way conversation. “God knows your heart, son! Just do a drive by, wave at the pastor and get back to work. Jesus will excuse you.”
“Leon Walters! How are you going to tell our son some foolishness like that!” Annie exclaimed.
His father laughed and Wesley laughed with him. He could just imagine the look on his poor mother’s face. It made him smile as he thought about the only woman in the world who had his whole heart.
“It’s all good, Ma. I promise I’ll go to service this Sunday,” Wesley said. Behind him, the sound system suddenly blasted on, the throbbing techno bass of the 1983 club hit “White Horse” echoing throughout the room. It surprised him, his eyes widening as he slammed his palm against the mouthpiece of his cell phone.
“Wesley, what’s that noise?” his mother questioned, the sound carrying over the phone line.
“Sorry!” he exclaimed, as he shot a look at the sound man in the corner, gesturing for him to turn the music down. “I turned on my radio and didn’t realize the volume was so high,” he said, the little white lie spilling past his full lips.
His father chuckled. “Thought you all were having a party in that office of yours.”
“No. No. Nothing like that,” Wesley said as he shot an evil eye toward the other men in the room. “But I do have to run,” he said. “I need to get ready for a meeting. I’ll give you a call tomorrow, okay?”
“Of course, baby,” his mother answered.
“Handle your business, son!” his father added.
After telling them both that they were loved, Wesley disconnected the call. “What the hell?” he shouted over the music.
On the stage, Bryan Lackey was refining his dance routine. He gave Wesley a thumbs-up as he gyrated his hips from side to side.
Trey Jackson laughed. “You know he did that on purpose, right?”
Wesley shook his head. “I swear, if one of you outs me to my mother there’s going to be hell to pay!”
The other men in their group laughed heartily and Wesley couldn’t help but laugh along with them.
Bryan turned off the music and jumped down from the stage. “Sorry about that, big guy. I didn’t know it was your mother. I just knew you were lying to some stray you picked up here at the club.”
“When the hell have you known Mr. Straight-As-An-Arrow to pick up anyone from the club?” Trey asked.
Bryan shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything,” he said casually.
“You do know who you’re talking about right?”
The group laughed.
Wesley shook his head. Standing among his closest friends in the world, the men he’d known for too many years to count, he trusted them with his secrets. Knowing not one would ever purposely betray him, he also knew that any of them would take great pleasure at an opportunity to make him sweat.
Since his sophomore year at Grambling State, the men in that room had stood by him, offering a friendship that felt more like a family bond. He and Bryan had met first, college roommates. Biracial, Bryan had been the only blue-eyed blond with a porcelain complexion in their dorm. As much as he stood out, he’d fit in, and they’d become fast friends.
Trey Jackson had been their fraternity brother, pushing them both to pledge Kappa Alpha Psi. When the trio had bemoaned the stresses of financial aid or lack thereof, Victor Hudson had come with an answer to all their problems. Wesley remembered that defining moment as if it had just happened yesterday.
The party they’d been invited to had been a Who’s Who of Louisiana’s finest. A smorgasbord of beautiful, sexy, financially successful women looking for a night of entertainment. Before either Wesley or Trey could change their minds, someone had turned on the music, each had been given a stage name and the rest had been history. They had all started dancing to supplement their empty pockets. Now they each continued for a variety of reasons. Together, they were the hottest male exotic dance troupe to grace the state.
Bryan “The White Prince” Lackey, Trey “Hammer” Jackson, and Victor “Black Magic” Hudson were Wesley’s closest friends and they made up both the senior management team and talent at his newest venture: The Wet Bar. The newly purchased franchise was destined to be the hottest nightclub in New Orleans.
He turned toward his office. “Joke all you want. Being straight-as-an-arrow has kept me out of all sorts of trouble. You three should try it sometime.”
“Like that would be fun,” Victor quipped, and then turned the music back on.
* * *
Inside his office Wesley blew out a heavy breath as he dropped into his leather executive chair. Despite his joviality with his boys, he hated lying to his parents. Keeping secrets from them hurt his heart. It wasn’t how he’d been raised and it wasn’t at all indicative of the man he strove to be. But neither Leon nor Annie Walters would approve of his endeavors in the adult entertainment market. Although he knew his father would wink and make a joke about his situation, he also knew his mother would be mortified. And that’s why he had never bothered to tell them.
Dancing hadn’t been Wesley’s career of choice. It had been a means to an end, and with that goal just at his fingertips he could appreciate it for all it had been. He had preferred being called an exotic dancer, but in the adult entertainment industry stripping was what he had done. Stripping had helped pay for his bachelor’s degree in business management and his master’s in finance. And it was currently helping him purchase this franchise.
He aspired to be a corporate mogul, running his own multi-million-dollar business and The Wet Bar was just the beginning. He had danced to pay the bills and dancing had afforded him the opportunity to save and invest the money he’d made. The Wet Bar franchise was a viable business opportunity and he planned to transform and legitimize the business, making it the most talked-about venture in an industry some considered tawdry and decadent. Renovating the New Orleans location was just the beginning. He then hoped to purchase additional franchises and expand to multiple cities throughout the nation.
Despite his efforts to hide what he did from his family, there was no hiding that he knew the business like the back of his hand. He knew how to grow the client base and how to give them what they wanted. Stripping didn’t begin to define the entertainment business that would become the cornerstone of his empire.
The office door opened and the echo of Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face” vibrated through the entrance. Bryan poked his head into the room. “Hey, you busy?”
Wesley shook his head. “No. Just trying to figure out what comes next. Come on in,” he said, as he gestured for his friend to take a seat. “What’s up?”
“We got a call from the corporate office. A local television news show is doing a profile piece on the company and since our renovations are almost done, they’d like to film here.”
“Here?”
Bryan nodded, a wide grin spreading like spilled sugar across his face. “They said they’d like to spotlight you and your goals for the business. They thought it would be a good idea to showcase the grand reopening to help promote the place.”
“Wow! That’s...wow!”
Bryan laughed. “That’s what I said. They’re going to send some folks from their executive team to scout the place, talk to you and make sure it’s all a good fit for what they’re looking to accomplish.”
Wesley took a deep breath. “When?”
“They’ll be here tomorrow at noon.”
A loud expletive blew harshly out of his mouth. “I need to talk to the contractor. We have to be done on time. We can’t blow this.”
Bryan winked. “I grabbed him earlier and told him to come see you before he leaves.”
Wesley nodded his appreciation. “This is really happening.”
“Man! You’re about to blow up!”
Chapter 2 (#ub240bbdb-f0d0-51ea-8d7d-26f118c4ad08)
“You look like you just got off a plane,” Paxton Reid said, his gaze sweeping the length of Kamaya’s slim frame.
“So now you have jokes? You know I just got off an airplane.” She was wearing oversized sweatpants, a tank top and Converse sneakers. The look was too casual and very basic.
“But you look like you just flew on a commercial flight and not private. You should look way better.”
“You’re an ass,” Kamaya said, narrowing her gaze on the man. She and Paxton Reid had been best friends for years. They’d met in high school, lab partners who both hated science with a passion. For a brief moment they’d been a couple, but that hadn’t worked. Occasionally they were lovers, and that did work, even when it didn’t. Despite their obvious differences—he was white and a male—they genuinely cared about each other and most days that was more than enough.
Her eyes rolled as she took the short flight of stairs to the front entrance of her office space. The Michelle Initiatives, located on Lee Street, was welcoming and looked like they were in the business of selling cupcakes and lollipops. The old two-story home with its lime-colored paint, bright yellow shutters and red door belied what was really happening behind the wooden entrance.
Kamaya had named the business after herself. Michelle was her middle name. Her brother Mason had the monopoly on their last name, Boudreaux Enterprises being his claim to fame. Michelle had been personal enough, but not so much that it drew any unwanted attention from her family. Because The Michelle Initiative was all about adult entertainment.
Most of Kamaya’s businesses, either directly or indirectly, provided sex-related products and services to an adult clientele. On the titillating side there was Play Candy, her line of adult sex toys, Eye Candy, the adult publishing line that was home to erotic stories, and her newest acquisition, forty-three strip clubs across the country soon to be renamed “The Wet Bar” and revitalized to cater to an upscale female clientele. On the less sensationalistic side there were the upscale massage parlors, A Touch Above, and the vaginal rejuvenation centers, Secret Garden Clinics. But, when asked, all Kamaya ever talked about were the convenience stores and gas stations that had been the foundation of her expanding portfolio. In the corporate offices of The Michelle Initiative she employed a staff of thirty-six people who all operated out of the pretty, gingerbread-trimmed home.
Paxton bounded up the steps behind her. “I may be an ass but I’m an honest ass!” he said, his expression smug. “And you can always trust me to tell you the truth!”
Kamaya tossed him a look as she pushed her way inside. “So what have I missed?” she asked.
“The first Wet Bar franchise is opening soon. Renovations are almost done and we meet with the franchise owner tomorrow.”
“Is he on board for the feature?” she asked. “He understands that we want him to be the face of The Wet Bar?”
“Well, he will. I figured we’d break the news to him in person.”
Kamaya’s eyes widened. “You told me we weren’t going to have any problems. You know very well that you and I can’t be associated...”
“I told you. It’s not a problem. No one will ever connect your good family name with the business.”
Disaster suddenly flashed before Kamaya’s eyes as she imagined everything going straight to hell. She suddenly had visions of her parents disowning her and her siblings disavowing any knowledge of who she was. People discovering that she was hawking sex and not chips and beer could be potentially devastating. She slapped her palm against the desktop. “I knew this wasn’t a good idea. I don’t know why I let you talk me into doing this profile piece.”
“I’ve got this! And we need the exposure. If we’re going to sell these franchises and grow this brand you need to do this.”
Before Kamaya could respond, their secretary, Virginia Wade, called her name, purposely interrupting the conversation. The two were renowned for their no blows held back battles and a rise of ire was beginning to curdle like spoiled milk between them. “Kamaya, I left some checks on your desk to be signed, and the massage center called to confirm your appointment. You need to be there by eight tomorrow morning.” The woman smiled. “And welcome back.”
“Thank you, Virginia,” Kamaya said as she moved from the reception area into her office space. She pointed her index finger in Paxton’s direction. “I swear, if this blows up...”
“It won’t. Stop worrying, please. We’ve been doing this for how many years now? No one has discovered anything about your salacious endeavors and they never will.”
The two exchanged a look and then she closed the door behind her as Paxton stood on the other side.
* * *
There weren’t enough hours in a day to do everything Kamaya needed to do. She was past the point of exhaustion and she still had a grocery list of things that she needed. Work had moved from her office to the dining room in her Marengo Street home. She pushed the folders from in front of her to the other side of her table, shifting documents from point A to point B as she attempted to bring some organization to the mess.
She had bought the chain of strip clubs in spite of having some reservations, but the purchase price had been too good to pass up. Envisioning where she could take the down-and-out titty bars had been a no-brainer. Revamping their programs, revitalizing their interior designs and hiring all male dancers had been the easiest decision to make. There was a market eager to enjoy the adult entertainment men brought to the dance stage. Women loved watching beautiful, hard-bodied males and they were willing to pay well for the privilege.
Franchising the properties and the business formula had been Kamaya’s idea. Starting with the New Orleans’s property had been Paxton’s, the proximity of the location allowing them an up close and personal view of what would work and what would not. That, and his inside connection to the investor who’d easily come up with the required cash had been enough for her to trust her old friend with the reins. Now she was excited to see if he’d actually been able to pull off her vision.
She pushed herself from the table and stole a quick glance at the clock on the wall. It was just past midnight and although she knew she needed some rest, she was anxious, her entire body a ball of nerves. She needed release. Something heated and dirty, where sweat carried the fretfulness from her body. She needed her sure thing for just an hour, or maybe even two if it was really good. In the realm of Kamaya’s small world, men were toys, sex was a game and she knew how to play them both to her advantage.
As she moved toward the master bedroom she pulled her cell phone from her back pocket and pushed the speed-dial button. Paxton answered on the third ring.
“Why are you still up?” he asked, his voice low, as if he were whispering.
“I have a lot on my mind,” Kamaya noted. “Is this a bad time?”
There was a moment of hesitation before he answered. “Can we talk in the morning?”
A hint of surprised lifted her brow. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”
“It’s no big deal,” he said cutting her off. “Laney just stopped by. She was upset and then she fell asleep...”
“Laney?”
He took a deep breath. “I was going to tell you tomorrow. Actually I was planning on telling you today but, well...” He took another inhale of air. “I asked Laney to marry me and she said yes. We’re getting married.”
Kamaya paused, his words seeming to go in one ear and explode someplace deep in her head. “You and Laney are getting married?”
“I really hope you’ll be happy for us, Kamaya. You’re my best friend, and it’s important to me that...”
She interrupted him. “Let’s talk tomorrow,” she said and then, just like that, she disconnected the call.
Seconds later the device rang, vibrating in the palm of her hand as an image of her and Paxton together flashed across the screen. She pushed the power button, and when the phone was off she tossed it to the floor of her walk-in closet and slammed the door shut.
Something like rage teased her spirit. She was surprised by Paxton’s news and she shouldn’t have been. Laney McDonald had been his Achilles’ heel for too many years to count. The woman had been blowing in and out of his life like a wayward wind, restless and wandering and never making any significant impact while there.
Laney McDonald was why she and Paxton had never been able to take their relationship past the point of friendship with occasional benefits. His obsession with the green-eyed redhead was like a fungus that had taken hold and refused to be eradicated. Laney would always find the most inopportune moments to suddenly come calling, teary eyed and emotional over something that had gone wrong and fallen apart in her life. She was a damsel in perpetual distress, and Kamaya’s buddy and pal Paxton felt obligated to save her.
Each time Laney needed to be handled, Paxton went running. Each time Kamaya’s feelings had been hurt for a split second. Deep down she knew that there would never be anything more between them and that she and Paxton would forever be friends.
Even their sexual connection had been a fluke of sorts, a night of too much rum and not enough cola spinning them into bed together. It would never have happened again if Paxton’s skills between the sheets hadn’t been so mind-blowing, but her friend was damn good in bed!
After that Kamaya had used him to scratch that itch when she didn’t want to be bothered with someone else. Because the someone else was always wanting more from her than she was willing to give. Paxton had been convenient and since she didn’t want permanent, it had worked for them both. And now he was planning to marry Laney. Kamaya couldn’t help but wonder what Laney’s husband had to say about it all.
