Chapter Thirteen
Mannish sat in his home office at the computer station torn to pieces. He had never been so unraveled and was clueless of how to pull it together and put things in their proper perspective. He was certain his thoughts should be on damage control behind his crumbling situation with Rio and the kids, but it was Lola Jones who was a major distraction. He tried and tried to kick her out of his head, but every time he closed his eyes she was there; her gorgeous face, the twinkle in her eyes that matched her smile.
Something was happening here, and he didn’t know how to take it. He kept reminding himself that she was a call girl in a feeble attempt to numb the mental effect she had on him. Never had Mannish thought twice about the other girls or remembered their names. They were just business transactions he wrote off under his corporation as a business expense. But Lola Jones was in his system, in the spaces between his heartbeat. And whatever he was going to do about it, he needed to do it fast because there was no way he could continue to carry on like this.
Mannish leaned back in a soft leather chair, threading his fingers behind his head, and staring at a computer screen that was supposed to be filled with the latest prose of his work-in-progress, but for the last hour only the name Lola with a bold question mark stared back at him.
“Damn, I’m tripping over this broad,” he said, shaking his head, as he remembered the day she strutted into the Ambassador Ballroom with unbridled confidence like she’d just won America’s Next Top Model. Her entrance played on the screen of his mind like a movie teaser of a romantic new release.
His words froze solid in his throat when their gazes meshed, when hers penetrated his well-constructed barrier, as if it were built Legos. Her presence marginally reduced the most beautiful women in attendance to “just passing for cute.” The impressive dress Lola wore clung to her body like a thin layer of skin, magnifying her breathtaking shape, arousing his imagination about the possible details of her soft spots. Her glittery peep-toe pumps tapped the ballroom floor in a hypnotic melody that matched the sway of her hips. The harmony was seductive like a baby-making slow jam.
Mannish’s audience turned in their seats to see who had stolen his attention from them, who had clipped his words when he had them hooked. There was no doubt in Mannish’s mind that the other women appreciated this fine woman’s presence by the way they surrendered to her beauty, cast down their gazes, and silently crowned her queen of the pecking order. Something about the way her long, curly tresses flowed down one side of her face and dangled at a perfect breast, drawing his attention to her erect nipple print, made his dick warm and tingly.
“There’s a seat right over there.” Mannish selfishly pointed to a seat closest to him where his view of her wouldn’t be obstructed, where he could admire her beauty up close and personal. He didn’t know who this gorgeous creature was, but he was going to shoot his jump shot before the night was over.
Mannish sighed and looked at her name on his computer screen. He had to do something about his jones for Lola. And he knew where to start. He picked up his iPhone from the desk and hit number two on the speed dial.
Finesse answered immediately, as if he was holding the phone in his hand. “Champagne Ladies International.”
“What’s up, homeboy?” Mannish said, clicking the mouse over Lola’s name and highlighting it.
“Ain’t shit, dirty. Just sitting here thinking of innovative ways to raise the price of pussy during this recession. One thing about it, rich and broke motherfuckers gonna continue to do what they do. And that’s buy pussy no matter how much it cost. Hell, it’s the oldest commodity in the world that has never suffered depreciation.”
“And just to think,” Mannish said, shaking his head, “I thought for once in our lives you would tell me you were doing something constructive, something that contributes to your personal growth like reading a book.”
“Pussy does help my personal Merrill Lynch and Charles Schwab accounts grow. What’s up, though, dirty? You trying to hit the gym with me this morning and pump some iron?”
Mannish thought about how bad he wanted to see Lola’s ass up with her back arched while he pumped her again. “You’re late. While you were snuggled up in bed with Kesha, I was at the gym doing legs and chest and done by seven. So, on another note, I need your help with something.”
“Anything for you, dirty. That goes without saying. What’s the deal?”
Mannish sighed for effect. “I lost my wedding ring the other night.” He touched the gold band on his finger and spun it. “I went back to the Holiday Inn yesterday and checked the room myself. Housekeeping swears I didn’t leave it, but that’s where I know I took it off at.” He typed Lola’s name on the screen again. “You know why.”
“Yeah,” Finesse said, sounding disappointed. “’Cause you ain’t got a pimp bone in your body. You got a soft shoe and you feel guilty about fucking fine women who ain’t Rio, like that ain’t what bitches are for.”
Mannish ignored Finesse’s chauvinism as he had a flashback of Lola’s naked body straddling him and staring into his eyes like she could decipher his deepest secrets. “That girl you hooked me up with . . . uh, Loran, the—”
“You mean Lola, my newest addition to the collection,” Finesse said.
“Damn, that’s her name? Man, don’t tell me that.”
“Yeah, it is. I’ve been telling you since junior high that you have to stop being so self-centered and think enough of other people to remember their names.”
Mannish said with gut-honest truth, “I know, man. It’s just a bad habit. For some reason I only remember names or think twice about people I deem important or who are beneficial to me somehow.”
“Did you not just hear me say self-centered?”
“Now I feel fucked up. She must think I’m the most insensitive asshole on the planet. The few times I spoke to her, I called her Loran.” Mannish knew that Finesse was circling the bait. Now he just needed Finesse to bite the hook.
“It doesn’t matter,” Finesse said. “Bitches like her will answer to anything when you’re paying to play.”
“I guess you’re right, but I do need to work on that flaw. Anyway, I was hoping she saw my ring and picked it up. I came and left before her, if you catch my drift. Let me get her number so I can check. I need that ring. I’m trying to get my act together and fix my marriage.”
They fell into silence. Mannish knew this was the part where Finesse examined the equation, looking for deceit among the variables.
Finesse tore the silence. “Lola is a very extraordinary woman.”
“She’s all right,” Mannish said like he disagreed for real, but yielded just enough not to cause a debate. “But what does your overrated ranking of her have to do with my wedding ring?”
“Was the pussy good? Wait a minute, don’t answer that. Just tell me how much you tipped her.”
“Three stacks. Why?”
“Oh,” Finesse said. “That pussy must have been liquid fire. She treated you real good. You wouldn’t be trying to go behind my back and skinny dip in her swimming pool without buying an admission ticket, would you?”
Yes. Yes, Mannish wanted to make love to her all night long if he could. But all he wanted now was a chance to get to know her and figure out why he couldn’t evict her from his head. “I just want to track down my wedding ring before Rio knows it’s missing. And of all the girls you’ve sent me since I got out of prison, have I ever wanted any of them twice? And, I ain’t one of them broke motherfuckers you were talking about. I’m the one who hipped you on to Merrill Lynch and Charles Schwab, remember? I would order Loran if I was pressed to see her again. I’m not.” He traced Lola’s name on the computer screen with a fingertip. “Tell you what, you call her and find out if she has it. And you can pick it up and bring it to me. I need it within the hour. I’m scheduled to meet with Rio at ten, so it has to be on my finger.”
Mannish crossed his fingers. The moment of truth was on them.
Finesse said, “Time is money, and I don’t have a minute to waste chasing down a worthless piece of scrap metal. Handle that yourself. Hold on while I get you the bitch’s number.”
Mannish pumped his fists in honor of his victory; then he winked at Lola’s name.