Just Can't Let Go

#Amped #LoveMe #HateMe #SSCATL #iamebonywaterhouse

“And . . . action!”

I lived for this moment to be back in the #spotlight. I was nervous when I arrived on set. The brand-new studio spread over four hundred acres. The interior of each home was decorated to fit our personalities. As it should be, I had the #mostfabulous #mansion. West-Léon and I were being filmed first for episode one.

I opened my front door. Smiled. Gave West-Léon a juicy kiss, then let him in. My designer black low-rise fitted pants highlighted my big booty and exposed my belly button. The black long-sleeved blouse had a sexy V to show off my cleavage. Diamond pendant necklace sparkled. Six #realblackdiamondstuds, three in each ear, signified I was that #BitchwithBands. Fire-engine red lipstick complemented my long, wavy blond hair. Devereaux had the hair stylist blend a few clips of cotton-candy pink throughout to give me a signature #sweetcandy look.

“Guess what I have for us,” West-Léon said, entering as he waved a piece of paper.

Playfully, I tried to grab it. Quickly he pulled it away, kissed me again. “You are going to love me for this, my babe.”

Hearing West-Léon call me “my babe” felt natural. Dressed in a pair of relaxed jeans, a tapered cropped sleeved black T-shirt that hugged his abs, and square-toed leather shoes, he wrapped his arms around my waist, picked me up, then swung me in a circle.

“Who’s the man?”

Landing on my seven-inch stilets, I gave West-Léon a loving look. “What is it, my babe?” I asked playfully.

“Can’t tell you. Grab your purse. Let’s go.”

“You know how I hate surprises.” I picked up my purse, followed him outside.

Trés called, “Cut!” Then said, “From the top.”

We ran that scene three more times before moving on to the next. I had my hair and makeup retouched each time. West-Léon had his refreshed too.

The next scene we were standing in front of my place as a white Rolls Royce entered the driveway.

A chauffeur opened the back door on the passenger side. I stared at West-Léon.

“What are you up to?”

“I can’t tell you. Get in.”

The driver entered onto Interstate 75 south. When he stopped we were in front of ticketing at Hartsfield International.

I was not happy. I scooted away from West-Léon, pressed my back to the door. “You should’ve checked with me. I can’t go out of town, West-Léon. I have an event to attend tomorrow. Where’s your main girl?”

“She’s in New York,” he said, not knowing that was where my event was.

“New York. Doing what?”

“In the studio. Recording.” There was a B-roll that would cut to her, then back to us. “We’ll be back in the ATL before she gets back here.”

Truth was I had plans to meet my married guy Travis in New York for the weekend. He’d planned a private party for my birthday with all of his A-list celebrity friends in Manhattan. Of course Travis’s wife would be there, but he’d be spending the night at the Waldorf with me.

“It’s for your birthday. I’ll have you back by Monday.”

“What time?”

“P,” he said.

The camera crew filmed us entering the airport at ticket check-in. Trés called, “Take!”

The viewers would see a studio replica of the inside of the airport. When we arrived at the gate, I’d notice he’d booked us a flight to Puerto Rico. Easing my cell out of my purse, it would show my booking a one-way ticket from Puerto Rico to New York first flight out in the morning.

Devereaux had outdone herself. Memorizing my lines did not compare to bringing my character to life. From my house to the airport completed our part of the shoot for day one.

“You guys did great. Tomorrow is a travel day,” Devereaux said.

I told her, “Thanks!” with a huge smile. Almost gave her a hug and a kiss. That would’ve been inappropriate under the circumstances.

Tomorrow we’d film West-Léon and my arrival into Puerto Rico. I’d stay overnight, we’d celebrate my birthday until sunrise, then (while he was asleep) I’d jet-set escape for my flight to New York and fashionably arrive just in time for my party with Travis . . . and his wife.

Maybe I could have dinner with my real husband while I was in Manhattan. Tonight I wanted celebratory sex. I’d only invited one person to our home one time while Buster was away. This series had me believing I could get over on any man with anything. I felt adventurous and dangerous at the same time.

I texted Spencer, Meet me at my house in an hour. My husband is out of town.