behind her as she went into the bathroom. “Tomorrow morning you lined up for a gang rape.”
Drae stopped dead in her tracks. “Excuse you?”
“I can see it now.” He ran in front of her and waved his arms in slow motion. “Hassan presents
Run-a-Way Train.
” He held his fist to his mouth, like he was giving his lips a pound, and started running in place. “That’s some hot shit right there. Booyah! People gon’ be like
Where he at? At the top, where he at!
” He carried on like a rap song. “At the top…I swear to God I’m ’bout to be on
Oprah
!”
“I think you’ve lost,” Drae said slowly, “your fuckin’ mind!” She turned on the water and stepped into the shower.
As the organic carrot oil ran all over her body, Drae started thinking about Yuri’s comment and Hassan being on the down-low. She wanted to get over it, but something about it rang true in her mind. She couldn’t figure out if it was the loaded dildo he liked her to fuck him with, the way he flung his wrist or the way he didn’t fuck her in her pussy anymore. Or maybe she was making something out of nothing. Maybe Yuri was hatin’, or maybe Drae was just sick of him walking around as if all that mattered was a big dick and a smile. There was more to life than a freaky fuck, yet it seemed sex was all their marriage consisted of. And sex was not what she married him for. She married him for security. He was rich, owned a mansion in Westchester, chartered private jets, flew all over the world at a moment’s notice. So, she took her black knight and galloped into the sunset, setting her sights on being set for life.
Now Drae felt trapped, caught between X-rated love and bullshit. And she was sick of being phony, desperately trying to fit into Larry Flynt’s version of Barbie and Ken’s cul-de-sac. As far as she was concerned, Hassan never gave a damn about who she really was anyway. For all he knew she was a Brooklyn-born pickaninny turned freak.
“Andrea!” Hassan called her name as if he’d just done some speed. “Hurry yo’ ass up! The party’s all set up downstairs. Now let’s go! After all, it’s my birthday.”
Drae stood at the mirror, fluffing her hair, which was styled in an abundance of Shirley Temple curls. Afterward she walked out of the bathroom stark naked and looked at Hassan as if she dared him to touch.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked her, as he stood fully dressed in cream Versace dress pants and a lavender shirt.
She didn’t open her mouth; instead she kept a steady eye on him as she slipped on her gray pantsuit.
Hassan smiled at her. “You love me, don’t you, Drae?” he said as the doorbell rang.
“Unfortunately”—she opened their bedroom door—“I do.”
Yuri
Yuri sat in her living room, dressed in black dress pants, a black satin shirt that showed an abundance of cleavage, a black-and-white-polka-dot scarf wrapped around the front of her head, and a pair of Manolos. She was smoking a cigarette and looking into the kitchen, wondering when Jeff’s son was going home. His mother was due to come and get him two hours ago and she hadn’t showed. She knew that Jeff and Yuri had made plans to be at Drae and Hassan’s for Hassan’s birthday dinner and on the way there they were supposed to pick up Nae-Nae. But already Nae-Nae had called at least a million times asking what was going on, and Jeff sat in the kitchen looking stupid as he watched his son color the third picture of his mommy marrying his daddy.
“Yuri, baby.” Jeff walked into the living room, sat beside her on the couch, and grabbed her hand. “Baby, I’m sorry.”
“For what, Jeff? What could you possibly be sorry for? Sorry for not listening when I told you she was gon’ do this shit because she always does?” She snatched her hand away.
“Look, Yuri.” Jeff folded his arms across his chest. “What you want me to do? We can still go. We’ll just take Jeff Jr. with
Drae stopped dead in her tracks. “Excuse you?”
“I can see it now.” He ran in front of her and waved his arms in slow motion. “Hassan presents
Run-a-Way Train.
” He held his fist to his mouth, like he was giving his lips a pound, and started running in place. “That’s some hot shit right there. Booyah! People gon’ be like
Where he at? At the top, where he at!
” He carried on like a rap song. “At the top…I swear to God I’m ’bout to be on
Oprah
!”
“I think you’ve lost,” Drae said slowly, “your fuckin’ mind!” She turned on the water and stepped into the shower.
As the organic carrot oil ran all over her body, Drae started thinking about Yuri’s comment and Hassan being on the down-low. She wanted to get over it, but something about it rang true in her mind. She couldn’t figure out if it was the loaded dildo he liked her to fuck him with, the way he flung his wrist or the way he didn’t fuck her in her pussy anymore. Or maybe she was making something out of nothing. Maybe Yuri was hatin’, or maybe Drae was just sick of him walking around as if all that mattered was a big dick and a smile. There was more to life than a freaky fuck, yet it seemed sex was all their marriage consisted of. And sex was not what she married him for. She married him for security. He was rich, owned a mansion in Westchester, chartered private jets, flew all over the world at a moment’s notice. So, she took her black knight and galloped into the sunset, setting her sights on being set for life.
Now Drae felt trapped, caught between X-rated love and bullshit. And she was sick of being phony, desperately trying to fit into Larry Flynt’s version of Barbie and Ken’s cul-de-sac. As far as she was concerned, Hassan never gave a damn about who she really was anyway. For all he knew she was a Brooklyn-born pickaninny turned freak.
“Andrea!” Hassan called her name as if he’d just done some speed. “Hurry yo’ ass up! The party’s all set up downstairs. Now let’s go! After all, it’s my birthday.”
Drae stood at the mirror, fluffing her hair, which was styled in an abundance of Shirley Temple curls. Afterward she walked out of the bathroom stark naked and looked at Hassan as if she dared him to touch.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked her, as he stood fully dressed in cream Versace dress pants and a lavender shirt.
She didn’t open her mouth; instead she kept a steady eye on him as she slipped on her gray pantsuit.
Hassan smiled at her. “You love me, don’t you, Drae?” he said as the doorbell rang.
“Unfortunately”—she opened their bedroom door—“I do.”
Yuri
Yuri sat in her living room, dressed in black dress pants, a black satin shirt that showed an abundance of cleavage, a black-and-white-polka-dot scarf wrapped around the front of her head, and a pair of Manolos. She was smoking a cigarette and looking into the kitchen, wondering when Jeff’s son was going home. His mother was due to come and get him two hours ago and she hadn’t showed. She knew that Jeff and Yuri had made plans to be at Drae and Hassan’s for Hassan’s birthday dinner and on the way there they were supposed to pick up Nae-Nae. But already Nae-Nae had called at least a million times asking what was going on, and Jeff sat in the kitchen looking stupid as he watched his son color the third picture of his mommy marrying his daddy.
“Yuri, baby.” Jeff walked into the living room, sat beside her on the couch, and grabbed her hand. “Baby, I’m sorry.”
“For what, Jeff? What could you possibly be sorry for? Sorry for not listening when I told you she was gon’ do this shit because she always does?” She snatched her hand away.
“Look, Yuri.” Jeff folded his arms across his chest. “What you want me to do? We can still go. We’ll just take Jeff Jr. with
Similar Books
