“I don’t need you or anything you have.”
“Open this door, Jameela.”
“Fuck you, Tremaine,” she spat.
I debated letting her hash out her own shit for a second before I nudged the bathroom door open. Her palms were face down on the counter while she stared straight ahead in the mirror. She never looked in my direction as I walked over and slipped my arms around her from behind. The softness of her middle made me nuzzle closer. I kissed the side of her face, then took the phone out of her hand and ended the call.
“Block his number, Jameela. You don’t need anyone you have to beg for help,” I told her, backing up and slapping her hard on the ass before walking over to the toilet to pee.
“It’s not that simple. He’s my daughter’s dad.”
I emptied my bladder and flushed the toilet before responding to her statement. “You said he doesn’t spend any time with your daughter. He only provides financially. He wants you to have sex with him in exchange for helping you to get your car fixed. We don’t need him for shit, Jameela. I told you I was handling your car. We’re going to see the mechanic in the morning.”
“I can’t let you do that, Nicholas.”
“It wasn’t a request, habibti. I want you to take that asshole off child support too. I wanted two more kids anyway. Now I have a new baby girl to spoil.”
She pouted, but her watery eyes made me walk over to her. When we were toe to toe, I cupped her chin in my hand and kissed her lips.
“That sounds good and everything, but we just met, Nicholas. I have to be realistic. Even if I let you take care of my car, I have to think long term. He’s her father. Hopefully, one day he will come to his senses and want to be in her life. I don’t want to close the door on him before that day comes.”
“I’m not telling you to do that. I hope that he does come around, but if he doesn’t, she won’t ever have to know she didn’t have a loving father, Jameela. Let me do that for you. I can’t stand to see this sadness in your eyes. If I can do something to change that, then that’s what I’ll do. I want to make it better.”
“OK, I hear you.”
“I want you to let me in. Let me earn your trust. I’m not afraid to prove myself to you. I want to prove that I deserve to be in your life. Ed-daayra ma’foola li-sabab. It means the circle is closed for a reason. It was the motto my uncle drilled in our heads to remind us to limit who we let in our lives. I apply it to every area of my life. I don’t let many people get close to me, but I’m a gambling man. That’s how I achieved my success,gambling and taking chances. I want to take a chance with you, Jameela. Let me in, habibti.”
“My love,” she whispered. “I looked it up to make sure.”
“Come back to bed. I want to take you to breakfast in the morning before we go to the mechanic.”
“What about my friends?”
“They can enjoy the hotel amenities. We have some of the city’s best restaurants.”
“I have to get my bags though.”
“I’ll have someone bring them up. Come to bed. We will hash out the details tomorrow.”
She sighed but didn’t protest when I took her hand and led the way back to the bed. Once she was comfortable, I walked over and snuggled up next to her. I couldn’t remember the last time I slept next to a woman, but I was pretty sure it was Cindy. With my arms around something soft and warm, I fell asleep before my head hit the pillow.
“Habibti,” I mumbled, jolting from my sleep when I realized that I was talking.
I didn’t have to look around to know that Jameela was gone. I couldn’t feel her energy. Her side of the bed was cold. That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to her.
It was just before eight in the morning. I was usually an early riser, but the pussy coma Jameela put me in had me dragging a little bit. Apparently, I didn’t have the same effect on her. I picked up the phone on the nightstand and called Antoine, the concierge.
“Yes, sir,” he answered, likely seeing that the call was coming from the penthouse. I was one of the only people with access.
“Make sure the ladies in room 1119 don’t leave before checkout. Have someone take up the family breakfast feast and some complimentary chips.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Antoine, I need you to personally go to the room and put Jameela on the phone. Don’t let her refuse,” I told him.
“Yes, sir,” he repeated before ending the call.
I jumped out of bed and snatched the pair of boxers I’d discarded on the floor and put them on. I hated for anyone around here to see me dressed down, but I needed to move fast. I grabbed a pair of sweats from the closet and threw them on just as my phone rang.
