“Tell me again why we didn’t rent a PJ?” Honor asked as she sat in the airport terminal, legs crossed, with her eyes glued to her phone.
“Because niggas who rent private jets eventually work at Walmart when they hit fifty-five because they did stupid shit with their bread when they were young,” Sutton said.
“Ha!” Luna shouted in laughter. “The fucking accuracy.”
“First class will have to do, dear sister,” Sutton said, smiling as she shook her head. Honor had always been high maintenance. Thanks to their father, she had been introduced to Louis Vuitton at three years old; by twelve, she was carrying her first Chanel. Only the best for his girls. Sutton had always preferred the money over the gifts. Five thousand dollars on a handbag or five racks in her bank account? Even as a kid, she saw the value in a dollar. She liked to see her money sit and collect interest. The dividends excited her more than the attention of a luxury bag. Those habits had followed her into adulthood. And now, she had both.
The girls giggled as Sutton lifted her wrist to check the time. “Where is this girl? We’re about to board.” She looked around the crowded airport. Ashton was late. “Call her and see where she is.”
Luna placed the call and hung up seconds later. “Her phone is going straight to voicemail.”
“Attention passengers on Flight 732 headed for New York, we are now boarding our first-class passengers.”
Sutton stood and grabbed her carry-on. “I guess she’s not coming. One thing about Ashton, she never misses the chance to disappoint.”
Honor shrugged and Luna stood speechless as they made their way onto the flight.
Ashton rushed through the airport, dodging the other travelers around her as she made her way to her gate. “Please be delayed, please be delayed,” she whispered. She knew if she didn’t make it to New York, she would only be proving Sutton right. Her sisters already thought she was unreliable. She would never live this down. Her thigh-high stiletto boots clicked against the tiled floor as she approached gate D12.
“Wait! Wait! My sisters are on that plane!” she screamed as the gate worker went to close the door.
“I’m sorry, the boarding door to the aircraft is closed,” the woman said.
“But it hasn’t taken off yet. I’m right here. Please don’t let this plane take off without me on it,” Ashton said, pleading because the last thing she wanted was to be at odds with Sutton again.
“Once the aircraft has been sealed, we can’t open it. It’s above my pay grade, ma’am.”
“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me,” Ashton said, rolling her eyes. “When is the next flight out to New York?”
“Not until the morning,” the woman said. She typed on the keyboard of the computer that sat in front of her. “All of our remaining flights are in a sold-out situation. We have a flight that departs at six fifteen A.M.”
“But nothing tonight? I won’t need to be there by then. I have a family emergency. I need to be in Manhattan tonight.”
“Ma’am—”
“Bitch, I’m twenty-one! If you say ‘ma’am’ one more time…” Ashton swept her hair out of her face in frustration as she snatched her plane ticket from the counter. When she turned, she bumped right into the man behind her.
“You’d get more bees with honey, I’d think. The black girl thing with the attitude and the loud shit is a little overdone. You need a new act, baby.” The man didn’t even glance up from his phone. A white boy with blond hair swept over, tattoos covering his neck and hands. The diamond necklace he wore rested on his crisp white button-down shirt. He was neat—not businessman neat, but rock star neat, like he had been tailored specifically for an event but was a little uncomfortable in the fitted slacks and thousand-dollar shoes. It took seconds for her to take all of him in. He was handsome, striking even, with model looks wrapped in the shell of a bad boy.
“And the ‘white boy trying to be down’ thing is lame as fuck. Mind your business with your appropriating ass.” The entourage that flocked the man all took pause, like someone had scratched a record. They waited for him to react but all he did was caress his unkempt beard.
“You want to let me by?” she asked.
He snickered. “Sure thing, angry black woman.” The tension melted as she passed.
“Thanks, privileged white man,” she shot back. Ashton found her way to the bar and set down her bag in the chair beside her, sighing in exasperation. She dug through her things until she retrieved her phone’s charger and then searched for an outlet. She already knew her sisters were going crazy wondering where she was. When her phone finally powered on, she had six missed text messages. She could tell from Sutton’s tone that she was pissed. There was no point in responding. Her sisters were in flight.
“I just need to get there,” she mumbled. She opened her browser and began searching for flights. The sound of laughter filtered into the restaurant and Ashton looked up as the white boy walked inside with his entourage behind him. The gushing the four women were doing was so over the top that Ashton rolled her eyes as she turned her swivel chair back to the bar. She didn’t miss the guy who accompanied the group, however. The mountain of testosterone was the color of tree bark and his presence seemed to shade the room. She felt a chill run down her spine. Some men just exuded power. The white boy looked like money, but the handsome gentleman who swaggered in behind him, scrolling through his phone without acknowledging those around him, looked like the boss. If Ashton’s heart weren’t wrapped up in the past, she would want to fuck him. He was just that type of man. The kind you knew could take your panties off as soon as he entered a room. The ping of her cell phone pulled her attention. Honor had connected to Wi-Fi, and the blue iMessage came through as soon as they reached cruising altitude.
Honor
I don’t know how you let yourself miss this flight, but you better get to NYC. I’m not trying to hear Sutty’s mouth this entire trip. Don’t flake Ash.
Before she could type a response, the bartender walked over with a drink in hand. She set down a napkin before placing the glass on top.
“I didn’t order this,” Ashton said.
“From the cute white guy in the corner,” the woman said. Ashton smirked. She didn’t even turn to acknowledge him. She knew he wanted attention. Just by the number of women around him, she could tell he was used to commanding it.
Probably some kind of trust-fund brat, Ashton thought. There was nothing worse than an entitled man who wasn’t used to working for anything. It took more than an apology drink to spark her interest.
Just as she expected, he came right over, placing one hand on the bar top and the other on the back of her chair, turning it so she faced him.
“Why you look so mean?” he asked.
“Oh my God,” she sighed to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose and then rolling eyes in frustration up at him. She chuckled. “Which of your black friends taught you that line, homeboy?”
He laughed. “You’re funny. Stranded, but you are funny. Maybe you can set up in the corner and do a bit since you’ll be here for a while.”
“Ha ha,” she said. “You see I’m having the worst day ever. Why don’t you just leave me alone?”
He shrugged. “Fine. I got a jet waiting to take you to New York, but cool, stay here with your mean ass,” he said.
He took one step back toward his seat before Ashton stopped him.
“And what exactly do you expect me to give you for the ride?” she asked.
He rustled his hair and his brow wrinkled as his eyes sparkled in amusement. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll give me a ride one day.”
Ashton laughed. “Now that’s a line, white boy!”
He nodded. “Yeah? You like that one?”
They shared a laugh and he held out his hand. “I’m August,” he introduced himself.
“Ashton.” She shook his hand, wishing she could have given him an alias. There was no boarding a flight without giving the pilot a manifest. She had no choice but to give him her government name if she wanted to make it to New York.
“Ashton? You sure? That attitude is giving me more Keisha vibes,” he stated.
Ashton hollered in laughter. “That’s so racist!”
“No more racist than you calling me white boy,” he shot back. “Enjoy your drink, beautiful. Wheels up in thirty.”
Ashton turned toward the bar. “White boy got money and game,” she whispered to herself, halfway impressed. She peered over her shoulder at the group, taking one more glance as she wondered who fate had placed in her lap.
Sutton’s car pulled up to the five-star hotel and she looked up at the skyscraper of a hotel, stepping out onto the filthy streets. Luxury heels on pissy pavement was such an oxymoron. She hated the big city. New York’s pretentious aura clouded the air. She had been there many times and there was just something about the place that turned her sour. The Southern belle was used to a certain amount of hospitality. The city was full of culture but lacked the charm she was used to.
She looked back at the two additional cars that were pulling up behind hers. While the sisters always rode apart, this time, it was due to the excessive amount of luggage they carried.
Dripping in designer so subtle it could have easily come from the swap meet, Honor and Luna emerged from their cars. High fashion and diamonds draped their bodies. It was clear that these weren’t groupies breezing into town. They were about their business, ready to mingle with the elite.
“Do we have access to the Draft?” Luna asked as the hotel’s automatic glass doors opened to let them inside.
“No, but we have access to the after-party,” Honor said. “I called in some favors. We’re on the list.”
They bypassed the front desk and approached the concierge. Keys were already waiting to four executive suites on the top floor with city views. Nothing but the best.
“Call Ash and see where the hell she is,” Sutton said as she headed toward the elevator. “I’m going to get some sleep. We’ll meet for dinner and then head out to the party together. Let’s say seven thirty?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Honor said, rolling her eyes. “You’re such an old lady. I want to go shop!”
“You do that. I’m going to my room, ordering room service, and taking a nap. And I ain’t old, a bitch is in her prime,” Sutton shot back, snickering as she kissed her sisters goodbye.
Sutton hadn’t come to New York to spend money. She had come to make it and she wouldn’t be easily distracted. She didn’t want to purchase brand names; she wanted her name to become the brand name. Sutton LaCroix was determined to build their company and become the most respected consulting firm in the country. She was well on her way, but she was still a small firm, and they were still stretching their wings into new sectors. She didn’t just want to be known for fixing scandals and handling PR nightmares, she wanted to touch tech and natural resources, specifically oil, and August Sinclair and his family’s fortune was her way in.
“I have never met a girl who hops a free ride and then acts like I’m invading her space.” August chuckled as he lifted a bottle of champagne to his lips and waltzed to the seat across from Ashton’s.
She rolled her eyes. “I haven’t said one word,” Ashton replied.
“That’s my point. You aren’t even pretending to be polite,” August snickered.
“What do you want me to do? Be like your little friends up there?” Ashton asked. “They’re so easy to impress. I’ve been on a private jet before. I appreciate the ride, thanks,” she said.
August’s bent brow of curiosity irritated Ashton. “What are you looking at? That’s about all I got for you,” she said.
He shook his head, smiling. “I like to go after the tough nuts,” he said. “The harder they are to crack the better they taste,” he said before standing and making his way back to the front of the plane.
I swear I should rob him, she thought. August was lucky he was already marked by her sisters, because if it were up to her, she would humble his ass. Leave him leaking somewhere and run his entire trust fund because she knew his money was given, not hard earned. He spent it too frivolously. He was young, rich, and entitled. His arrogance was both a turn-on and turnoff. She could understand how he had pulled the beautiful women at his side.
She stood and headed toward the restroom, but the sight of a room at the back of the plane pulled her farther. She peeked through the slit of the semi-open door and a beauty of a man stood inside. He removed his shirt, revealing an athlete’s body beneath. She wondered how it was possible for a man to hang a suit so well. The build beneath was flawless.
He lifted his eyes toward the door and Ashton’s breath hitched as he pulled it open.
“Sorry, I was looking for the bathroom,” she said.
“This one’s private. August’s company utilizes the one up front,” he said.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” she replied.
“I think you meant to do exactly that,” he said, then shut the door in her face, stunning Ashton. She scoffed in disbelief. She had never met a man who wasn’t putty in her hands. She was beautiful and young. She hadn’t detected a hint of lust in this man’s eyes, however, and that was odd. It was the first time in her entire life she hadn’t felt like her looks gave her an advantage. She wondered why he was secluded in the back of the jet while August practically had an orgy going on with beautiful women up front. The level of discipline intrigued her. Most men would indulge when tempted with pussy. This man blocked it out.
“You’re the one we need to figure out,” she whispered to herself. She hurried back to her seat and grabbed a bottle of champagne from the ice bucket near her. She poured herself a drink and sat back as the wheels in her mind turned in overdrive. She knew when she was looking at the boss and August wasn’t it. She couldn’t wait to get to New York so she could fill in her sisters on this new mystery man she had discovered. There was more to him than met the eye and Ashton had a feeling they had their sights on the wrong target. It was time to develop a plan B.