Darius opened his glove compartment. Yes! He had condoms. Quickly he rolled two into his palm.
“Let’s get a room here. That way I can get some rest and you can have my undivided attention.” Not giving Ashlee an option, Darius valet-parked his car, then said to Ashlee, “Let’s go. You can get everything off your chest at once.” So could he. Darius eased the condoms into his pocket.
Smiling at the woman behind the counter, Darius placed his American Express card in front of her. “One room, best available, one night.”
“Aren’t you, um, don’t tell me,” she said, bouncing her titties. Pausing to read his credit card, she continued, “Yeah, it is you. The guy who killed a man, then got drafted. How’d you get away with that, playa?” Waving her hand, she continued babbling, “Forget I said that. So”—she smiled wide—“who are you playing for?”
Best to ignore her kind. Darius looked at Ashlee, then turned to the clerk. His head involuntarily snapped back toward Ashlee, shaking side to side as he wished he’d made her wait in the car. Seeing Ashlee under the lobby’s sparkling chandelier, he thought she looked horrible. Dark circles underneath both eyes. Smeared lipstick. Dirty face. White shoes? Debris tangled in the stringy matted hair sticking from underneath his do-rag.
“What the hell happened to you?”
Ashlee softly replied, “You.”
Hopefully that wasn’t the devastating effect Darius left on most women. Was it? “Fine, let’s go.” Before anybody else sees me with you, Darius thought.
Ashlee paced her dragging steps two feet behind him. Darius peeped over his shoulders every few seconds until he slid the key card into the slot and opened the door. Ashlee placed her tote bag on the computer desk, then sat on the edge of the king-size bed.
“Why are you still wearing your tuxedo?”
“Whooooa.” Darius exhaled. Was the pussy worth all this? Popping the cork on two bottles of champagne splits from the minibar, Darius answered, “Didn’t feel like changing.”
Darius filled one glass, handed the bursting bubbles to Ashlee, then gulped his straight from the bottle as he sat beside her. A shower for both of them would be nice, but Darius hadn’t planned on staying long after he’d gotten what he’d cum for. He watched Ashlee remove his button-up. Unzipping her jeans, she stepped out, left leg, then right, placing her denims over the back of the large cushioned chair. All that remained was his wife-beater T-shirt, no panties.
Damn. Darius hadn’t seen the scars on Ashlee’s thighs from the fire he’d rescued her from months back. That was his fault too. If he hadn’t pissed off Ciara, Ciara would never have burned down his office with Ashlee inside.
Touching her thigh, Darius said, “So that’s where they took the skin to reconstruct your face.”
Ashlee nodded. “I have lots of scars, emotionally and physically, to remind me of you. How many scars do you have to remind you of me?”
Ciara had scars. Maxine. Kimberly too. Darius had none. Physically, that is. Emotionally. Two. Thaddeus and…the second one, not his HIV scare, was unmentionable. Darius wasn’t even sorry that his past relationships didn’t last.
“What happed to your toe?” Darius asked, reaching for Ashlee’s foot. “It looks dead. You’d better get that checked out before it falls off.”
Blocking his hand, Ashlee said, “I dropped your dumbbell on it.”
“You had a field day going through my things, didn’t you?” Before Ashlee answered, Darius held his hand up and said, “I know, our things.”
“No, you’re right. Those are your things. But can’t you see I just want to be a part of your life? Like I used to be when we were kids, when we lived together, worked together, made love together.” Hanging her head, Ashlee continued, “When you actually cared about me. We have a—” Ashlee sighed.
Darius held Ashlee’s hands. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Ashlee, I do care about you.” If she only knew how much. “But the things you’re doing are only pushing me further away.”
“Further?” Beet-red tearful eyes confronted him as Ashlee yelled, “This is not about you! It’s about me! Why can’t you care about anyone else! Why do you have to turn everything around? Nothing is ever your damn fault!”
Darius’s eyes shifted away from Ashlee. She had no idea how awful he felt about abandoning her. Better to leave her before she would’ve left him. No need to mention the times he did try contacting her and she chose to ignore him. Defending his irresponsibility, Darius yelled, “But you were the one who fucked my brother!”
Ashlee covered her face, crying. “Here we go again. How many times am I going to have to say I’m sorry? I wanted to use Kevin to get back at you for all the things you’d done to me. I never loved Kevin.”
She didn’t? Although he’d refused to ask, he was relieved to know. That meant the only man she’d ever loved was him. Comforting Ashlee, Darius secured her in his embrace. “Let’s forget about Kevin.” But he’d never forgive or trust Ashlee or Kevin again.
Kevin’s stealing ass was getting out of jail on a technicality. The embezzlement charges for the million dollars Kevin had stolen from Darius’s company, Somebody’s Gotta Be on Top, were dropped after Darius’s father Darryl pleaded with Darius not put Kevin behind bars. The only reason Darius agreed was to please his father. Whatever, after Darius got what he wanted from Ashlee he’d leave her alone, for good this time.
When Ashlee raised her arms to hug him, the stench invaded his nostrils. “Make love to me, Darius. I need you.”
“Whoa, didn’t you tell me you were and I might be—” Darius said, backing away while covering his nose.
“I’m not sure about all that, but we can use protection because I can’t remember what I did with my abortion pills. I keep condoms with me, though. I need you to love me.”
“Well, personally, I need you to freshen up. Slugger won’t, make that can’t, get hard with that odor lingering.” And if her underarms stunk up the place, Darius could only imagine that crevices of her pussy smelled like wolf.
Removing the do-rag and T-shirt, Ashlee said, “I’ll be right out.”
“Take your time. Please.”
Waiting for Ashlee, Darius turned on the television. His cell phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, he saw it was Fancy. Darius silenced the call and turned off the phone with one prolonged press of a button. Easier to lie and say his battery died. Placing his phone on the desk, Darius paused, staring at Ashlee’s purse. He looked at the bathroom door, turned up the television, then rumbled through Ashlee’s bag to retrieve all of her keys except the obviously tagged rental car key. “SUV? HH2…that was her car?” Fumbling, grasping more keys, Darius dropped the keys from his hands inside the purse when he saw a worn picture of Ashlee, little Darius, and himself that was taken at the hospital the day his son was born. The edges were bent with lines creasing the middle, but that was his son. A lump, too big to swallow, formed in his throat. Darius frowned. “Stop trippin’, dog. He’s dead.”
What type of man would Darius have raised his son to be?
“What are you doing?” Ashlee asked, standing behind Darius. Water dripped over her nipples. “Give me my purse.”
“I was trying to get a head start. I was looking for your condoms. You lied. You don’t have any.”
Turning her back, then holding up a cosmetics case, Ashlee said, “I do.”
Taking the condom pack, Darius unbuckled his pants, lowered them to his knees, rolled the condom halfway up his shaft before it