#Blessed by Malakai, page 2
“The one and only,” I replied, all humor gone from my voice. “Calling Roxanne an ex is putting it nicely.”
“You damn right.” Micah shook his head. “Roxanne is more like a crazy stalker who Malakai made the mistake of sleeping with. Repeatedly.”
“I didn’t know she would turn out to be crazy,” I said, looking from my brothers to Shawn.
“Yes, you did.” Malik laughed before glancing at Shawn. “This is the woman we told you about who Malakai met a couple years ago at a lounge here in Chicago right after he created that sculpture for rap artist and actor, Common. We were out celebrating and she popped up in the VIP section claiming to be a fan. Micah and I could tell she was one of the stalker fans, but Malaki didn’t listen. Not only did he hook up with her that night, but she followed him to Chicago. And now, she pops up all the time at different locations he's at and they have an on-again-off-again relationship."
I raised one of my hands in defense as my phone finally stopped ringing. “I wouldn’t say relationship.”
“Well, a fuckship then,” Micah added. “Or friends with benefits. Heavy on the benefits. Malik was trying to save face for you, but I give it to you straight.”
Malakai frowned. “No friends. Just benefits.”
Shawn shook his head. “Regardless, why the hell did you continue to mess with her if she had all the signs of a stalker?”
I looked at my brothers, the three of us sharing a smirk as we thought about the reason I put up with Roxanne’s craziness. “That ass though,” we all said in unison before busting out into laughter.
“I see.” Shawn laughed along with us. “Men will do anything for the booty.”
We all sighed, each caught in our own thoughts. The problem with my thoughts were that I wasn’t thinking about my wife like I knew my brothers and Shawn were. I didn’t really have a face to go along with my thoughts, so all I could do was imagine what my future wife might look like.
The sound of another FaceTime call coming through my phone broke the moment. I ground my teeth together when I recognized the same number that had called me before. “It’s Roxanne again.”
“If you don’t answer, she’s going to keep calling,” Micah stated.
Concluding he was right, I reluctantly answered. “Hey, Roxanne.”
"Lovebug," she said in a baby voice. "You've been avoiding my calls."
I didn’t even have to look at the guys to know they were silently laughing to themselves. “I’ve been busy, Roxanne. And I thought I asked you to stop calling me. What we had is over.”
“I don’t want it to be over,” she pleaded. “And I’m in Chicago and want to see you.”
I mentally slapped my forehead although what I really wanted to do was throw my damn phone across the room. “Roxanne, I’ve told you time and time again to stop following me to every city I go to. I’ll press charges if I need to.”
“Don’t be like that, snickerdoodle. You know that you and I are meant to be together. Don’t fight it.”
Meant to be together? Hell nah. “I’m sure there is a man out there for you, but that man isn’t me.”
“Only if that man doesn’t mind being followed everywhere he goes,” Malik whispered.
“And sleeping with one eye open,” Micah added.
I ignored my brothers before continuing. “Roxanne, I’m determined to find the right woman for me, which means, whatever you think we have going on is over. I’m ready to love one woman and one woman only. A woman who accepts me for who I am and isn’t afraid to tell the world why she loves me. In shorter terms, I’m looking for my wife and as harsh as it sounds, that woman isn’t you.”
Shawn shook her head. “Bruh, you’re telling her too much.”
“It is me,” Roxanne whined. “Malakai, if you’re looking for a wife, you’ve already found her. And I’m not afraid to tell the world how much I love you.”
This time, I rubbed my forehead, not caring that she could see the stress written across my face through the FaceTime call. “Roxanne, that’s not necessary. We’re over and we’ve been over for a while. It’s time for you to move on.”
Although I’d hoped she finally got the message loud and clear, the sneaky gleam in her eyes proved that she was far from understanding.
“Well, we’ll just see about that, my chocolate Adonis. Ta ta for now.” When she blew me a kiss, it took all of my energy not to reach into the air, pretend to grab it, and smash it in my hand.
It hadn’t even been a full two seconds after Roxanne disconnected the call before the men began laughing.
“She’s a piece of work,” Shawn said. “If she truly is crazy like you say, you definitely told her too much information.”
“For the most part, she’s harmless.” I picked my cards back up. “Anyway, can we get back to the game and stop talking about me?”
“Whatever you say, chocolate Adonis,” Micah said with a wink.
I tossed a potato chip at him. “Man, enough with that. Let’s play.”
The men nodded, and soon, it was back to business as usual. Knowing my brothers, I figured they would eventually want to talk about the fact that I wanted to get married within the next year, but at least for tonight we were done.
An hour later, Daman finally arrived. He quickly greeted Shawn before coming over to the poker table like a man on a mission. “Bruh, what the hell did you do to crazy Roxanne?”
Daman had been there the night we had met Roxanne, so I wasn’t surprised he still remembered who she was. Like Shawn, I’d grown closer to Daman as well, and I often teased the four of them about being the husbands of Elite Events since their wives were the queens of event planning.
“I didn’t do anything,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders. “Why do you ask?”
Daman scrolled through his phone. “Because an hour ago, Roxanne started posting a bunch of mess on Twitter and tagged you in her tweets. Now, the hashtag she started is blowing up.”
I grabbed Daman’s phone hoping he was just exaggerating. “Get the fuck out of here. Is she seriously tweeting about the times we’ve had sex?”
“Yep,” Daman said. “And now, Roxanne isn’t the only one.”
As I scrolled through Daman’s Twitter account, my mouth literally dried up. “Oh shit, she started the #BlessedByMalakai hashtag an hour ago and it’s already trending.”
“Apparently, she’s doing this to try and win your love,” Shawn said, glancing through his own phone. “She says as much in her first tweets.”
I’d just landed on the same tweets Shawn mentioned, noticing she had tweeted at least ten more times.
* * *
@MalakaiMadden is looking for love
and he wants a wife who isn’t afraid to
share her feelings with the world.
#BlessedByMalakai
* * *
Ladies, in case you didn’t know
@MalakaiMadden is a #SexGod.
No dick is as good as his dick.
His penis should be gold plated.
#GoldPlatedPenis #BlessedByMalakai
* * *
I was #BlessedByMalakai a couple years
ago and I’ve been addicted to
the D ever since. #FutureMrsMadden #IDoItForTheD
* * *
“It seems like other women are following her lead,” Daman remarked.
“Some of the other women are women I’ve slept with,” I said, my mouth hanging slightly open. “And they are detailing the time or times we’ve slept together to try and win my love.” I couldn’t believe what I was reading, but even closing my eyes and reopening them didn’t make it go away.
* * *
I was #BlessedByMalakai a few years ago
when I was at a work convention. He took
me on the balcony. Left me craving more.
#unbelieveableexperience
* * *
It was a warm June morning on the
beach when I was #BlessedByMalakai.
The sun was setting when I orgasmed.
I still smile when the sun sets.
* * *
Even though I’m married, my vagina still
craves @MalakaiMadden. Glad I was able
to be #BlessedByMalakai.
#BestSexEver #SorryHubby
* * *
I’ve never been #BlessedByMalakai, but I’ve
seen him around New York before and would
love the chance to see his dick in person.
Or win his love. Whichever happens first.
* * *
Fuck love. I heard @MalakaiMadden has a big
dick and I’m too busy to date. In need of a
#onenightstand. Ready to be
#BlessedByMalakai.
* * *
“Oh this is bad.” I sunk lower into my chair, unable to believe how many women had tweeted. “I never even said there was a contest to win my love. As a matter of fact, I haven’t tweeted anything. Don’t folks usually wait until they receive some sort of confirmation from the person in question?”
“Not on the internet,” Shawn said. “Besides, WorldStarHipHop and other popular media outlets are already retweeting Roxanne’s tweets and others. It looks like folks are wondering if you’ll settle down with an ex or someone new.”
“I’m not famous, so I don’t even understand why people are curious enough to entertain these tweets.”
“You’re famous enough, little brother.” Malik reached for Daman’s phone since he refused to get a Twitter account. Malik wasn’t much for social media. “You’ve created sculptures and art pieces for a lot of famous people. And weren’t you the one bragging last holiday about finally hitting that milestone of twitter followers?”
“Well yeah, but most of those followers follow me for my artwork or fashion. Not some lame ass tweets about my bedroom activity.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Micah said. “The internet has no chill. People eat this shit up. Plus, with all of the reality television shows out now, it doesn’t take much to become famous or trend whether you want the publicity or not.”
I ran my hand over my trimmed beard the way I often did when I was nervous.
“And didn’t you just get offered a chance to create an artistic mural for one of the state senators?” Malik asked.
“Crap, I forgot all about that,” I muttered, my headache growing with each passing second. “I have to call my agent and make sure this doesn’t jeopardize the deal. Although, I’m sure this will die down by tomorrow and the internet will find someone else to talk about.”
“Ah, nah. I’m not so sure about that,” Malik said, closing his eyes and thrusting the phone back at me. “Take the phone back.”
“Why?” Micah asked, intercepting the phone and then following suit and closing his eyes as well. “Never mind. Here, Malakai.”
I barely registered my fingers shaking as I glanced at the screen of the phone to see what had both of my brothers closing their eyes.
“Oh no.” I wasn’t the type of person who panicked easily, so I didn’t even recognize the alarmed sound of my voice when I looked at the photo that Roxanne had just leaked.
Unlike before, I didn’t close my eyes to try and make the photo go away. Closing my eyes wouldn’t help. Saying a prayer wouldn’t help. Deleting my Twitter account wouldn’t help.
No matter what solution I thought of in my mind, nothing would change the fact that Roxanne had posted a picture of my dick that already had over five-hundred retweets and it hadn’t even been a full minute.
“Is that really you?” Malik questioned since my head was cut off in the pic. Thank God for that, I guess.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Bruh, why would you send Roxanne’s crazy ass a picture of your junk?” Micah was still rubbing his eyes after seeing the photo.
“I didn’t,” I said a lot calmer than I felt. “I can tell from the angle of the pic that I was sleep at the time.”
“I thought you never slept over a woman’s house or had them sleep over yours,” Malik said.
“I don’t.” I looked closely at the bed sheets and nightstand, immediately recognizing where this had to have been taken. “When I had made the decision to stop messing with Roxanne a year ago, it was after she’d popped up on me in Miami. She asked me if we could get one more night together and I obliged. Per my usual, I asked her to leave after our good-bye fuck and she did so with no argument. The next morning, I woke up and found her in my bed. Apparently, she had stolen the key to my hotel room and let herself in after I’d fallen asleep.”
“That’s messed up.” Shawn shook his head. “It’s even more twisted that Roxanne would think she could be your wife after pulling a stunt like this. Why would she even think telling other women about sex with you would make you want to marry her more?”
“Why would she think you’re even ready to get married?” Daman inquired, finally taking a seat at the only empty chair at the table.
All of the men looked to me for a response, yet, all I could do was stare back at the photo as five-hundred retweets turned to one thousand retweets. Which quickly turned to fifteen-hundred retweets. I reported the photo and messaged my agent, but I knew the internet never forgot once something like this was leaked.
The only thing that was true in all of this Twitter mess was the fact that I was blessed, or rather, well-endowed. Well, I guess some of the sexual recounts from my exes were true, too. But I liked my privacy and having this picture circulating on the internet was as far from private as it could get.
“How about I get us something to drink that’s stronger than beers,” Shawn suggested before heading to the kitchen. As my brothers went on to explain to Daman my desire to get married and how I’d ended up in my current predicament, all I could do was hope that tomorrow morning I would wake up and this would all be some terrible nightmare. I’d been eager to tell my brothers and friends that I was finally ready to settle down. Now, I wish I’d kept my damn mouth shut.
Three
One year later …
* * *
Avery
* * *
“Could this day get any worse,” I huffed aloud as I wiped the spilled coffee from my yellow pencil skirt. The more I rubbed the damp spot, the worse it looked. At least it got on my skirt and not my white blouse. I’d been holding my piping hot cup of coffee for the past eight blocks, so it was a miracle I hadn’t spilled it on myself as I walked.
Pushing my black rimmed glasses farther up on my nose, I took a few more steps until I reached a nearby café that was entirely too crowded and searched for a space on the wall that I could lean against. It was a nice and warm June day, but besides the weather, nothing was going right this morning. At this point, I didn’t know why I expected anything less.
Frustrated, I closed my eyes and counted to ten to try and calm my frayed nerves. Ever since I’d made the leap six months ago to quit my full-time assistant job, move to New York City, and start my own PR agency, I’d run into more than a few obstacles.
First, I really wished someone would have told me that the apartments in New York were about the size of a storage locker. Second, New Yorkers walk fast. And I’m not talking about the brisk speed walk type of fast. I’m talking about the run-as-if-your-life-depends-on-it kind of fast. I walked holes into two pairs of good shoes my first month here.
Lastly, although I’d researched the cost of living, I hadn’t thought that a simple chai-tea latte would cost five dollars more than it did in my Tennessee hometown. Although the creamy liquid slid down my throat in a way any previous latte never had, I knew a rip off when I saw one.
“Lady, watch the fuck where you’re leaning!”
I opened my eyes and glanced up at the business suit who was holding his coffee in one hand and phone in another. I mouthed a simple sorry as I straightened my posture and adjusted my clothes, ready to tackle the New York streets again.
“Okay, Avery. You got this,” I whispered to myself as I glanced at the tall skyscraper that was only a couple blocks away. After botching two client meetings this week, I really needed a break.
Some may call it being naïve, but in my mind, I thought within my first month of being in New York, I would land a huge client. Then, by six months, my name would already be floating around as one of the top young PR agents in the city. I had visions of me walking into a beautiful office with floor to ceiling windows while my assistant handed me a cup of coffee the moment I walked through the door.
“Keep on dreaming, girl.” I slipped on my sunglasses and braved the streets again. Dreaming was good for the soul, however, the small table that folded down from the wall in my tiny apartment was hardly the beautiful office I’d imagined. And Sasha, my grey cat that had been with me for the past three years, hardly constituted as an assistant. On good days, I’d be lucky to even get her to move from her perch on my windowsill.
As I neared the tall, black building, my heart rate suddenly quickened. It was only this morning on the subway that I’d overheard a woman on the phone discussing how infamous creative artist Malakai Madden had fired yet another PR rep and was auditioning today to fill the vacancy.
On a whim, I’d decided that I needed to somehow get a chance to pitch to him that I was the best woman for the job, even if I didn’t have an interview slot. My mom always said that it wasn’t the early bird that got the worm. It was the most clever bird who ultimately won. So today, I planned on being the keenest bird in New York.
To some, what I was doing would be considered a smart move. To others, it would be a foolish one. I wasn’t sure exactly which side of the coin I thought was more accurate, but regardless, I was going through with my plan.
