Page 4 of Kisses Behind The Spotlight 2: Finale

“Auntie, jail was horrible. Why didn’t you tell me it was hell when I bailed you out of jail?” I sputtered, placing my hands over my chest.

“Like, I’m just so glad I didn’t have on a wig. They were scalping bitches in there and sending them out with half their edges gone. Getting braids before the trip was the best decision I made.”

“Girl,” she chuckled. “Let that be a lesson to stop doing so much crazy shit. Imagine prison if you would’ve killed Xain on the interstate that night,” she waved a spoon drenched in chicken stock at me.

“I told y’all I did not put those iguanas in Xain’s truck,” I maintained my stance. That was something I’d decided to take to the grave when he almost died.

“Mhhhhh hmmm,” she murmured. “What, you don’t want to be honest about it now because y’all were getting cozy while in Morocco?”

I gasped and pulled the plates out of the cabinets.

“Xain has been around long enough for me to know when I see him in a picture. Your incognito no-face birthday dinner picture wasn’t slick. Plus I’ve been celebrating his birthday with him since I got with Vincent. We even converted the time zones to make sure we called to sing him happy birthday at midnight, Marrakesh time,” she called me out.

“Ugh, I was going to tell you. My private time with Xain was…” I paused and closed my eyes, thinking about all of the filthy things we did that night. “It was exhilarating. Auntie, the sex⁠—”

“Khaleesi! Please! Spare me the details,” she grimaced. “I’m still your aunt, and Xain, Stepp, and Duke are like Vincent’s sons. I hate to spoil your honeymoon phase and be a debby downer, but y’all have been Peter Griffin and the chicken for quite some time now. Make your decision with that in mind. If things don’t work out, it won’t be a regular breakup. You will still see Xain at family gatherings. Hell, outside of both of y’all’s connections to Vincent and me, you guys are basically co-workers. Is that really the route you want to take?”

My auntie set the spoon down and turned to pull a bottle of Chardonnay from her wine chiller on the counter. She poured a glass and passed it to me while I mulled over her words. Taking a long sip, I leaned up against the counter and stared out of her sliding glass doors. She was right. If Xain weren’t in jail, he’d be outside smoking a blunt with the men.

“You’re not saying anything that I haven’t already thought about,” I lamented. “But Auntie, he’s still sitting in jail for me. The officer that was cuffing me was roughing me up real bad, and Xain wasn’t going for that,” I swooned.

“I just don’t even understand how y’all went from enemies to having sex that fast,” Auntie sighed.

“Well, from my understanding, it was your husband’s idea to have Xain lock himself into my apartment when y’all wouldn’t let him come over for his grandmother’s death anniversary,” I snitched.

“Noooooo!” Auntie gasped.

“Yep. Tech did something to both of my doors and my phone. I couldn’t even call for help.”

Anila’s hands flew to her mouth; she was mortified, looking out at her crazy ass husband. Vincent was smiling and laughing with the fellas like he wasn’t half evil when he wanted to be.

“That’s why he walked into my apartment with Noah that day. They went to the gym together, exchanged numbers, and everything. So we really have Vincent to thank for that. I still didn’t like Xain much that day, but I hugged and comforted him because I’m not a total bitch. But I don’t know. We had to work together again in Morocco for Q’s proposal, and things just happened,” I explained, then finished off my wine.

She refilled my glass, and I continued drinking while bringing her up to speed on what happened in my apartment that day, and how things went in Morocco. From my panic attack to the cute shopping spree, and everything in between. I kept it PG for my auntie’s ears, but the smile she wore told me I conveyed enough. At the same time, my auntie definitely pulled those hesitant thoughts back to the forefront of my memory. Only time would tell.

CHAPTER TWO

Amill Haynes

Stepping back, I held the black beret in my hand and ogled Salena’s game day fit. My girl was finally over Xain, and that glow at Q’s party came from her new boo, Wayne. He was playing in his second Super Bowl, and she wanted to look every bit the quarterback’s new girlfriend. I came through and did just that.

The black silk-jersey mini dress clung to her body perfectly. Its high neckline balanced out the short hem, giving it a sexy yet sophisticated look. Sheer black tights covered her long legs, then disappeared into the patent-leather stilettos that further elongated Serena’s legs in the dress.

A pair of oversized diamond hoops fought to peek out of the thirty-inch body wave bundles that flowed down her back. The tiny Bottega Veneta top-handle bag offered a pop of glossy red, signaling which team she was there to root for. Her manicure was the exact shade of oxblood I picked out.

Behind Salena, the room looked like a tornado hit it. The hairstylist and makeup artist were packing up their things, and shoe boxes were strewn across the hotel room. Thankfully, my garment bags hung neatly on a rack, so I could be out quickly when I was done.

Styling Salena was a pleasure, but I felt like I was betraying my boy Xain. At the same time, I knew Salena desperately needed my assistance. Probably more than any other client I’d worked with that weekend. Her last-minute request for a beret threw me off, and I was currently admiring my creation while finding the words to tell her that ugly ass hat was going to ruin my look. I’d never been in a situation where I had to go against my clients. They usually let me do all of the work. However, Salena was coming with her own little ideas, probably because we knew each other on a somewhat personal level.

I liked her new boo already. Wayne reached out to book me, so he must’ve known how she was giving it up when she got dressed on her own. I used to think Salena enjoyed being comfortable when she wasn’t delivering babies, but after all the times I’d told her no while planning her look, it was clear that wasn’t the case. Salena was doing the best she could.

“Salena, I simply have to tear the Band-Aid off and say it. The hat is ugly, and it will throw off the entire look. Plus Bria just worked so hard to melt your lace. It’s giving scalp, and we need to leave it at that,” I blurted.

“I know you’re not thinking about putting a hat on over my work,” Bria shouted from the bathroom.

Bria shuffled out of the bathroom, finger-combing her hair. They were cousins, and Bria was going to the game with Salena. I guess I should’ve just said what the issue was before.

“Give me that hat.” Bria held out her hand, and I passed it to her. She tossed it in the trash and went back into the bathroom. “The car service is downstairs, so we need to be headed down.”