“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I wouldn’t be here crying at your ex-wife’s table, looking like a fucking idiot, if I felt that way. I’m in love with you.”
There it was. The full sentence. The intentional meaning. To be in something with him. To be in this world, in Charliezonia together. That’s all he wanted.
“I’m in love with you.”
She saw his stubbornness wean away as he took steps forward. She stood, and Demi pulled her into his arms. There was discontent between them and so much to discuss, so much to work out.
“Say, man,” Demi whispered as he kissed her lips.
“Say, man,” she replied. Her dirty-ass hands that had been all outside, all over the radio station desk, all over every door handle she had touched on the way to this house, were on his face. He didn’t even flinch.
“You can’t do a nigga like that. You make my mind go to crazy places, Bird. You don’t have to have this baby if you don’t want to.”
She caressed his face. “Why does it mean so much to you?”
Demi pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes.She really don’t get the shit,he thought.
“Because you mean that much to me, Bird. This whole experience with you, this time with you, it feels like it has an expiration date.”
“And a baby makes it forever,” Charlie finished for him. “You trying to trap a real nigga.”
Demi laughed, sincerely fucking laughed. Only Charlie would say some shit like that at a time like this.
“Get the fuck out of here, man,” Demi said.
“Is it a trap if I walk into it willingly?” Charlie asked.
Demi pulled back.
“I want both. I want this baby and I want to sing. I want us to have it all, Demi.” Another kiss. It was filled with so much gratitude that Charlie felt it in the depth of her bones. “Oh, and Lauren?” Charlie added, pausing. Demi’s brow tensed in anticipation. “I know I wouldn’t be this graceful. We owe her, Demi, for the hurt and the lies. I want to make sure that’s made right and that we blend this new family with her and DJ the right way. I want to be respectful of how they feel, Demi. We were so in love we didn’t think of that before. We just did what we wanted, regardless of who got hurt.” Charlie shook her head in disbelief. “She’s amazing, actually.”
“Okay, that’s enough on Lo,” Demi said. There was only so much “amicability” he could take between his ex-wife and fiancée. He didn’t need or desire for them to fill his life with awkwardness by becoming friends.
Charlie laughed. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter 17
You’re a fucking fool,” Stassi scolded herself as she stared at the YouTube video in disbelief. “A stupid-ass, goddamn, do shit you know you shouldn’t, trust niggas when you know you shouldn’t, fool.”
The radio interview had been a disaster, and she cringed for Charlie the entire 17 minutes until that embarrassment turned into her own.
The Press had asked Day about her, and his response had been so offensive that she didn’t even have words. All she could feel was shame, rage, and stupidy. Stassi had never felt so played. She had known how he would look at her if she accepted that money. She couldn’t even say she blamed him. She had let him convince her to transact sex for cash. She was a prostitute that just hadn’t been labeled yet. She knew it, and now the entire world knew it too. She couldn’t believe she had been so naïve. To allow a man like Day to access and manipulate her feelings was the rashest decision she had made in a long time.
“He’s a rapper. What did you expect?” She scolded herself.
Her social media was blowing up. Nosy fans who worshipped Day and messy bitches who followed the blogs all wanted a peek at his new paid fling. Her eyes watered as she scrolled through her DM’s. It was like she was on the auction block. Other industry men were in her messages, shooting their shot and in every single one was a dollaramount. She shook her head, forcing herself to click out the app. She just couldn’t take anymore. Social media was a rabbit hole of drama. This wasn’t the way she wanted to grow her brand. None of the people clicking ‘FOLLOW’ were interested in Stassi, the businesswoman. None of them were potential customers. They were following gossip, and the part that bothered her most was that the story was true. She would never be able to rebuild her business now. No one would ever take her seriously if this weren’t rectified.
Roman called her non-stop since the interview aired, but she refused to answer. Even in a dire circumstance, Day had his handlers reaching out. It was so impersonal. It was lightweight disrespectful, and she was over it all.
Lauren felt like it was her against an entire Internet world of trolls. She had been called everything under the sun from a ‘HO’ to a ‘TRIFLING-ASS BITCH USING HER PUSSY AS A LADDER TO CLIMB OUT THE GHETTO.’ Everyone thought she was chasing clout. Her comment section was in shambles and every major Black blog had run with the story. This had to be a new low for her. Instead of people judging Day for paying to play, they were judging her. Not one comment was negatively aimed at Day. The comments about him were celebratory.
“SHE BAD, I’D PAY TO PLAY TOO.”
“RAPPERS PAY FOR ELITE WOMEN BECAUSE THEY DON’T TALK. YOU SEE OLE GIRL HAVEN’T COMMENTED. SHE DOING HER JOB.”
“SPEND HELLA BREAD ON BAD BITCHES = A RICH NIGGA SPORT.”
It was all so out of control.
