ELLA
“First of all, I want to thank you for allowing us into your lovely home to chat with you today. I know you’re still recovering from your accident, so I’m sure this is not easy for you,” Nevada Jamison, a reporter from BNN, the Black News Network, said. She was short and thin, wearing a gorgeous purple dress from one of Claude’s past spring collections. I’d always liked her, so I chose her from amongst the throng of reporters and networks who’d contacted my agent.
I was dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, had opted to wear no makeup, and my hair was pulled back in a ponytail. This was me—real, raw, casts on each arm, a bandage on my nose, scratches on my face. Injured but not broken.
“No, it’s not easy, but it’s necessary. I want my voice to be heard. I want to finally share truths I had no business keeping secret in the first place,” I replied.
“And you want to do it with him by your side?” Nevada asked.
I nodded, shifting my attention to Armand, who sat to my left with his arm around my shoulder, right by my side as he was when I was in the hospital. “Yes, with him.”
Armand leaned in and kissed my cheek. “I love you,” he said before lowering his gaze to the floor, his profile as beautiful as ever.
“I love you, too,” I supplied softly.
“Well, I believe you two just confirmed your as-of-yet rumored relationship status,” Nevada verbally surmised.
In response, I smiled.
“I see…well, let’s get to the matter at hand,” Nevada continued. “Ella, can you tell us what happened on the night of your accident?”
I did. As hard as it was, I did. I recounted everything and felt everything all over again—the fear, the liquor stinging my eyes, the disorientation, the impact, the pain.
“It may seem like nothing to some people. No, I wasn’t sexually assaulted, and yes, I escaped with my life. It’s not just about being confronted or assaulted the way I was, it’s that no one helped. People laughed, people recorded with their phones, people uploaded the video and shared the footage, but no one helped me. The video allowed for the man to be found and arrested. I’m grateful for that, but it’s not lost on me that it was shared because it was entertaining to people.
“I’m a person, a human with feelings. Yes, I grew up on camera and my parents are famous. I have a great career and a wonderful man who loves me, but I’m just a regular person with extraordinary people around me. I deserved better, and the fact that as a black woman, a black man did that to me? Well, that’s especially egregious as far as I’m concerned.”
“What about the tons of On One fans who feel you’ve betrayed him by moving on so quickly? His mother and sister have stated on numerous occasions that they feel you’ve turned your back on him and his legacy,” Nevada posed.
Armand shifted on the sofa, blowing out a breath. I knew he wanted to jump in but was glad he didn’t. I needed to do this.
“Nevada, On One was an incredible talent. That’s undeniable. He was also kind and giving. He supported his family until the day he passed and even after,” I supplied.
“Yes, some are speculating that him not including you in his will was a point of contention between you and his family,” Nevada shared.
“That’s not true. I wasn’t married to him. I didn’t expect to be in his will, nor did I have any desire to be. I genuinely cared for him and I believe he cared for me, but I need for people to understand that often what’s portrayed publicly does not always align with reality. Our relationship was not perfect. By the end, it was not healthy and neither was On One.”
“Are you saying he was ill?”
“I’m saying he was struggling with an addiction…to pills. I’m saying that to those who were in his inner circle, it was not a secret. I’m saying he wasn’t always the kindest person to me. I’m saying he was human and flawed and at times…abusive.”
Nevada’s eyes widened. “Abusive toward you, Ella?”
I nodded, blinking back tears. “Yes, and those closest to him know I’m telling the truth. They witnessed it.”
“These are serious allegations, very serious. On One’s fans are already angry with you. This could serve to add fuel to that fire.”
“It could and it probably will, but I have proof. Would you like to see?”
ARMAND
“I’ll be glad when these casts come off. I know you’re tired of having to do all this,” Ella said, sounding frustrated.
“Nah, I like it. Helps me get to know you better, sir,” I said as I placed a plate of food before her.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’ve had to learn what you like to eat, your favorite soap, perfume, clothes. Before this, everything was about me.”
“You’ve given me the gift of your submission. You! Why wouldn’t it be all about you? Taking care of you is my top priority.”
I stared at her for a moment. “I gave you my submission. I guess that’s true.”
“It is! You’re the ultimate alpha male. You are so strong and powerful, intimidating as hell, and that doesn’t change when we play. You school yourself for me. That is so precious to me. It…thank you.”
I blinked and shook my head. “No, sir. Not today. You ain’t about to make me cry in front of my son. Eat up,” I said, holding a forkful of food up to her mouth.
“How many times do I have to tell you that I can feed myself?”
“I don’t care. I like feeding you.”
She took the bite and hummed with pleasure. “Mmmm, who told you I like curried goat, and where did you get it? Did you cook this?!”
“Your dad told me after I called and asked him for a list of your favorite foods. Chef Scotty cooked it.”
Her eyes ballooned as she stopped chewing. “Oh! Thank him for me! And, uh…you’ve been talking to my dad?”
“Yeah, I mean, he still only refers to me as Little Nigga, but at least he ain’t threatening my life anymore.”
“I still can’t believe he choked you…”
“I can. That’s why I keep saying son, although we don’t know yet. Because if it’s a girl? I’ma fuck up any dude who looks at her. She better be a lesbian.”
“You do know that lesbians use straps, right?”
“Well, she gon’ be a non-fucking lesbian.”
Ella rolled her eyes as I continued feeding her.
“After our interview concluded, Ella McClain showed me the video you are about to view. It was taken on her phone some months before rapper On One’s death. I want to warn you that it is disturbing. If you are sensitive to violent content, you may not want to view this footage.”
The image on the TV shifted from Nevada Jamison to an iPhone video taken in a hotel room. From what Ella told me, the phone was in her lap, facing up. At the time, she’d been filming a video for social media, something silly, when On One started an argument with her. Anyone who knew him or listened to his music knew it was definitely his voice. He was saying all kinds of shit, calling her names that made me want to dig his bitch ass up, resurrect him, and beat him back to death. Then he came into frame, towering over her. She was saying something to defend herself, nothing that should’ve motivated him to do what he did next, but he did it anyway. He spit in her face before punching her in the side of her head.
It was all I could do not to fuck Ella’s TV up. Instead, I turned it off and began pacing the room. I had to calm down.
“Boogie, come here,” she said.
I shook my head. “Give me a minute.”
“It wasn’t a request.”
I stopped in my tracks and looked at her. Her face was blank.
“Come here…now,” she ordered.
I nodded and obeyed. I was about to sit next to her on the sofa when she said, “No, stand in front of me.”
I did.
“Let me see my dick.”
“What…sir?”
“These casts come off next week and I swear I’m going to beat the shit out of you when they do if you don’t take my dick out right now!”
I dropped my pants and underwear. Of course I was as hard as Mount Everest at that point.
I moaned as her tongue found the head of my dick.
“Did I ever tell you why I moved here to St. Louis?” she asked before taking me in her mouth, and she was doing this shit with no hands!
“Um…fuck! No, sssssir,” I replied.
She let me slowly slide from her mouth. “I moved here because I knew you’d been traded to the Cyclones.”
I frowned down at her. “What, sir?”
Taking me down her throat and popping me out, she released a breath and said, “You know how you said you had a crush on me? Well, I’ve had a crush on you, too. I’d watch your games, stalk your social media. I’d see you in pictures with women and wish I was them. You were so damn fine and mean and…I’d wonder how your body would feel between my legs, how your mouth would feel against mine, how your tongue would taste. Would your hands be rough when you touched me? Most of all, I wondered just how good it would feel for you to be inside me. I was sure you had good dick.”
She was legit sucking my whole vocabulary from my brain when I somehow managed to ask, “And, sir?”
She didn’t reply. Instead, she sucked and slurped and licked until she pulled my soul from my body. I was standing before her shivering and shit when she said, “And I was right. You got the best dick.”
“S-s-sir, let’s get m-m-m-married,” I stammered, lowering my eyes to her face. She looked as high as I felt because Ella loved giving me head almost more than she loved me. I would’ve bet money that her panties were soaking wet at that moment. When her lips were swollen like they were now from pleasing me, she looked so lovely to me. Only a few weeks had passed, so her face still bore the evidence of the accident, but her beauty remained unmatched.
I watched as she dropped her gaze, and when she lifted her eyes to my face again, a single tear rolled down her cheek as she whispered, “Okay.”