The Rich Girls' Club (17 page)

C
urve ball my ass.

It was clear as the blue summer sky blanketing her home that Brooks and Morgan were undercover fucking. What wasn’t clear was whether Brooks was sexing Magnum or if Morgan was truly pregnant. Whatever was going on was their business. Storm was committed to fully executing her part of the plan but the day Brooks won would be Storm’s last day of doing the mayor. She’d no longer need his connections; he’d need hers.

Men could avoid so many problems if they just kept their dicks in their pants, or their hand. Man had no best friend. Not a dog. Not their dicks. Man was his own enemy, not women, and definitely not pussy.

Storm brushed her hair back on the sides and top, gathered the shoulder-length strands into a ponytail. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, then applied her tinted moisturizer that also provided her the perfect foundation.

Red lipstick completed her flawless look. There was power in words but the confident color on her lips would reinforce what she had to tell Anthony Dennison today. Releasing the ponytail, she let her hair flow straight. She tucked the sides behind her ears, neatly combing her bang to her brows.

She stepped into a red long-sleeved dress, then zipped up the back. The flat collar circled her neck. The hem, high enough to be sexy yet long enough to be conservative, was four inches above her knees. The silk gently clung to her breasts, waist, and butt. The closed-toe, platform, three-inch pumps were comfortable enough for sprinting if necessary.

Storm gathered her purse and the iPad she’d give to Anthony, then headed to Nobu on North La Cienega Boulevard. In between the lunch and dinner crowds, the restaurant was fairly quiet. No need for a table. According to the plan, Storm wouldn’t be there long. Meet the opponent. Deliver the information. Leave immediately. Then toast to the girls’ victory. She waited for Anthony at the bar, crossed her legs, ordered a bottle of their best champagne.

Believing the surprise she promised was another healthy donation, he’d agreed to meet her on his stopover while he was in transit to campaign in San Diego. In a few minutes, Tony would be devastated as much as Randall had been. But would Tony wait to threaten her over the phone? Or would he strike in an angry moment? Storm wasn’t taking any chances on potentially being attacked. Her bodyguard was seated at a table nearby.

Tony entered the bar. His dark suit was crisp, goatee immaculate. She wondered whether he wore boxer briefs or pink lace panties under his slacks.

His smooth chocolate lips parted. “I don’t have much time. My plane was late getting in. Traffic on the 405 is ridiculous, as usual. My driver is outside waiting for me. I’ve got to be back at LAX in less than two hours for my next flight.”

Just like an “all about me” man. Tony hadn’t even bothered with saying “hello.” His ass was on the edge of the stool. He poured himself a glass of champagne. Gulped it down.

“I have something special for you,” Storm said, reaching into her purse.

His eyes widened like a kid’s on Christmas morning. “You shouldn’t have…but I could certainly use the money. You see, Laura dropped out because she didn’t have enough funds. That can’t—make that won’t—happen to me thanks to contributors like—” he paused. Stared at the computer in her hand then continued. “What’s this?”

“Let’s just consider this an investment,” Storm said, handing the iPad to him. “Watch the video on your way to the airport. Have a safe flight.” Softly she kissed his cheek, leaving a red lip-print stain behind.

“You mean I came here for this? I thought you were giving me another check,” he lamented, standing beside his seat.

Storm looked over her shoulder. Her six-foot-nine protector moved closer, stood beside her, clamped his hands in front of his zipper, then spread his feet apart. He didn’t have to speak a word as he stared at Tony.

“You’d better hurry. You don’t want to miss your flight.” Dropping three one-hundred-dollar bills on the bar, she told the bartender “Keep the change,” walked to her car—the pink jewel Hope had given her—that was parked out front, and drove off.

If Tony thought he was upset when she’d left him holding a computer, wait until he saw the footage.

F
ive months down and five more to go before Election Day.

Burying the hatchet was impossible when you knew what your best friends wouldn’t confess. Morgan willed herself to make one last attempt with both of them.

Sitting alone by the pool at her spa, first she called her husband. His voicemail spoke to her. She redialed using her speed dial.

“Hey, baby. Sorry about that. I accidentally hit ‘decline.’ Where are you?” To Morgan, the tone of his voice when he asked sounded like someone had just given him the best blowjob of his life. “I woke up and you were gone.”

“I’m trying to sort things out.” He’d better not be in their bed sexing someone. “Magnum, I need to know the truth. It’s tearing me up inside. I feel like I’m losing my husband, my friend. I can handle whatever the answer is. Please tell me. Have you been having sex with Brooks?” Morgan pleaded. “Is this your way of trying to hurt me and ruin Brooks’s political career?”

One of them had to reveal what they’d hidden. She’d already seen proof. She just had to hear her husband admit his infidelity. But why? What difference would it make if he told her? At least she’d feel she could rebuild their trust from there. Maybe.

“I’ve got to go, Morgan. Don’t call me back if that’s all you have to say.”

“No, wait!” she cried. “Please don’t hang up on me. Why can’t you give me a simple yes or no, Magnum? I’m your wife!” Her voice echoed through the empty spa. Today was the day the spa was closed for business. She hated the politics, lies, and games her husband was playing.

“Bye, Morgan.”

The phone went silent.
Bye, Morgan?

Morgan set the phone beside the lounge chair and stared at the blue chlorinated water. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She was strong but she was also a woman deeply in love with her husband. A woman on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. Sliding on her sunglasses, she sighed heavily.

Again, Magnum’s curt response made it easier for what she would do when Bo arrived at the spa in an hour. Drying her eyes, she made her next attempt at satisfaction.

“Hey, Morgan. I was just about to call you,” Brooks said, sounding like she’d just had the finest yoni tongue massage of her life.

Morgan texted Magnum. “Where are you?” Just because he’d said he woke up and she was gone didn’t mean he was really at home.

Perhaps Morgan’s blues were sparked by what she’d seen that night. And if one of them didn’t tell her the truth both might end up…dead. What was killing her might ultimately kill them.

“You go first since you were about to call me. What’s the good news?” Morgan asked, staring up at the glass ceiling. A few clouds hung over her head, like the secrets her best friends kept.

“Haven’t you heard the latest? My commercials are a huge hit. I’m finally ahead of Randall in the polls! Now all I have to do is pass Tony and catch up to Goodman. You, my friend, are a genius. I’m coming to pick you up for lunch.”

“I’m in Sacramento,” Morgan lied. “I have to meet with Goodman to give him the blackmail video.” The sex acts she’d done for Brooks, Brooks had probably done to her husband.
Dammit! Tell me the truth!

“Oh, I thought that was next week. Be careful. No telling what he’s capable of.”

Like you keep forgetting to say, “Morgan I fucked your husband. I apologize.”
Morgan was silent. At this point there was no telling what she was capable of.

Brooks became quiet, too.

“Congratulations,” Morgan finally said, then ended their call. She knew what she had to do to Bo, Bailey, Brooks, and Magnum.

No reply text from her husband. Brooks had gotten too comfortable with the success that Morgan had generated. Maybe Morgan would hold off on giving Goodman the tape and give him another contribution instead. She could make Brooks fail without being viewed as the culprit.

Her heart ached with anger and disappointment. She had never imagined her husband would hurt her like this. Why?

A text finally came…from Bo:
I’m outside
.

Approach the spa from the street. I’ll meet you by the entrance
, she texted back.

Locking the door behind Bo like she’d done with Bailey, Morgan led the way to the pool. “Take off your clothes,” she said.

“Is this another one of those don’t say anything sessions?” he asked, smiling. He removed his shoes, pants, T-shirt, and underwear. His manhood stood at attention, making her pussy throb.

Morgan dove head first into the deep end. Bo jumped in feet first, making a huge splash. She swam to the five feet marker. He followed her.

“You can say whatever you like,” Morgan told him.

Holding the back of her neck, his tongue darted into her mouth then suctioned her tongue against his.

“Mmm,” Morgan moaned, stroking his dick. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

Bo braced her back against the side of the pool, and penetrated her until his head was all the way inside her. “I’ma pull out before I cum,” he said.

She knew he was thinking with the right head but Bo had no idea she was already pregnant with his child. There was no point in him pulling out. She’d wanted to tell the girls what she’d said was true but instead she withdrew her confession after Hope told everyone about Magnum’s vasectomy.

The thrust of Bo’s firm ass was exactly what she needed. Sometimes a woman just had to get fucked real good by a man that could satisfy her without becoming emotionally attached.

Would Bo want her on a full-time basis if her marriage ended? Would she want him in their child’s life?

Morgan didn’t want to think. She just wanted to enjoy Bo’s every stroke. He gave her the dick just the way she loved it, and the feeling of her breasts sliding against his chest excited her further.

“I’m about to cum, baby. What do you want me to do?” he asked, slowing his pace.

“Don’t pull out.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” Morgan said, hugging his neck.

Bo thrust his shaft deeper. She felt his hard dick pulsating. Morgan tightened her vaginal muscles and exploded with him.

“Aw, yes. I feel you,” he said.

“I feel you too.”

Bo’s legs shivered. “I have got to be the luckiest man in the world,” he said.

Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.
“No, I am,” Magnum said, entering the pool area.

A
black Lincoln Town Car stopped at her gate.

Brooks watched the security monitor intently. The gate opened, the car cruised along her driveway. Brooks’s heart raced. “Couldn’t be.” She’d changed her code. There was no way for him to have access to her home.

She opened then shut the front door, ran to the living room, grabbed the phone. Peering through the keyhole, she watched as the car parked in front of her house. Brooks’s breathing became heavy. She ran to her bedroom, got her gun, pressed her eye against the hole again.

The driver opened the back door. Black stilettos with beige trim rested on the cement, and Morgan emerged wearing dark sunglasses. Her blond hair was slicked back. Her black pantsuit made her look elegant and powerful.

“Thank you, Jesus.” Brooks placed her firearm and cordless on the coffee table in the living room, grabbed her computer, purse, and keys, then opened the door.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I thought you were a trespasser.”

Firmly Morgan said, “We have unfinished business. Let’s go.”

“Um, I was on my way out. I have somewhere to be,” Brooks lied.

“Get in the car. I’ll take you wherever you need to go when we’re done with what I have planned,” Morgan said, standing aside.

“I’m headed to my coffee shop, then Hope is meeting me at—”

“I know your schedule. I’m the one who made it. Get in the damn car.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Brooks asked, sitting on the backseat. The driver closed the door, escorted Morgan to the opposite side of the car, closed her door, then got in and drove off.

“You mind telling me what this is all about?” Brooks asked.

“This is your permanent driver and I’m now your full-time manager. I don’t want you going anywhere without me. I don’t want you driving yourself anywhere. Your driver is available to you twenty-four-seven and so am I.”

“This really isn’t necessary,” Brooks commented.

Morgan instructed the driver, “BK Brew is our first stop,” then told Brooks, “At least if you’re with me, you can’t fuck my husband behind my back.”

Brooks felt it was best not to respond. What if the driver told the media of Morgan’s accusations? She wondered if Morgan’s pregnancy was to blame for her friend’s erratic behavior. How could an intelligent married woman have made such a careless decision to have unprotected sex?

The driver parked in front of BK Brew then opened her door.

“I’ll wait here for you,” Morgan said.

Walking into her coffee shop, Brooks inhaled the fresh smell of roasted java. Her nostrils flared for two reasons. One was because of Morgan. There was no way she’d be joined at the hip with her every minute of the day. Two, the place smelled of French roast.

Patrons gathered up posters from the stack near the entrance, expressed their excitement about supporting her, and requested her autograph. Brooks smiled, shook hands, and kissed babies while thanking her customers and signing her name. No need to prolong their next stop, wherever that was.

“Free coffee for everyone for the next hour,” Brooks said on her way out. The driver opened her door.

“Hey, Brooks Kennedy. You’ve got my vote!” a man shouted from the passenger window of a car driving by.

“Mine too.” This voice was seductive, flirtatious. Made her stop.

Brooks turned to face a twentysomething eyeing her up and down like she could be his breakfast.
Wow!
He was the most beautiful man she’d seen in years.

Hollywood was full of aspiring actors, people that looked like their full-time job was working out, but this man’s physique was perfect. He appeared to be about six feet, four inches. Smooth caramel skin that glistened under the sunshine complimented his smile. His brown T-shirt wasn’t too baggy or too tight.

She glanced at his flat abs, scanned up to his eyes, then said, “Thanks.”

“You need help with gettin’ it, Ms. Kennedy? I can do whatever you like. Manage your online campaign. Work you over and work you out. Mount…posters.” He licked his lips. Stared at hers. “But what I’d really like to do is protect you. Let me be your bodyguard, ma’am.”

Brooks’s head snapped to the left, to the right, then inside the car. All she could see were Morgan’s pants leg and shoes. Could anyone else hear what the young man was saying? She tried to remain cool but she felt heat rising up her thighs to her clit. “What’s your name, young man?”

“Jason. But you can call me Big D or Daddy. Because if you give me the opportunity to take care of your needs, that’s what you’ll be screaming in my ear as I whisper in yours, ‘Get it, mama. Big D has got you.’”

Whew!
“Have a good day, Jason,” Brooks said, leaving the young man standing in front of her coffee shop. Jason’s lines probably worked for a lot of women. And if she hadn’t been running for governor, she may have given him her number and invited him to her house after dark.

“Wait. Here’s my info,” he said, handing her a basic white business card.

“Thanks.” Glancing at the card, she laughed as she read,
CEO OF JASON’S PERSONAL FITNESS, IN-HOME TRAINING AND MASSAGES AVAILABLE
. There was a phone number and an e-mail listed.

“I can train you any time,” he said, flexing his chest and fluttering his brows at the same time.

“Have a good day, Jason.” Brooks tucked the card in her purse and got into the car.

“Make that your last time lingering when we have appointments. You’ve destroyed enough. Next time, keep things moving,” Morgan said.

“Driver, take me back to my house,” Brooks insisted. “Now.”

“I said you have an—”

“Shut the fuck up, Morgan! I’ll drive myself there. If you want out of the plan, get out. But I will not allow you to subject me to your madness.”

“If I want out?”

“Perhaps you missed the part when I said, ‘shut the fuck up, Morgan!’”

En route to her house, Brooks thought about how she could win the election without Morgan’s help. She probably couldn’t, but she’d take that risk before she kissed Morgan’s ass ever again. Hell, life wouldn’t be bad going back to her coffee shop. Business had increased seven hundred percent since she’d announced her candidacy. People dropped in at all hours of the day and night hoping to see her, and ended up loving the coffee.

Morgan grabbed her bicep. “Brooks, wait. If you value our friendship, tell me the truth. Did you have sex with my husband?”

“You’re asking the wrong person. Get your hand off of me,” Brooks said. Letting herself out of the Towne Car, Brooks slammed the door. She didn’t need Morgan questioning her. Brooks needed a stiff drink and a stiff dick.

Jason. Could she have a boy toy to service her womanly needs like Storm had with Chancelor? She definitely wouldn’t buy him a car. Maybe she could lie and say he was the handyman. A massage was what she needed. He could be her therapist. A few hours a week would help keep her stress free. Then she thought,
What if Bailey paid Jason in order to get back at me?

Morgan had ruined her good attitude, but Jason had stirred up her libido. How long had it been since Brooks had had sex? Suppressing her sexual energy was the source of her frustrations. Maybe Magnum wasn’t fucking Morgan either, and that had made Morgan angry with her. Great sex with Jason could take the edge off in several ways.

Thinking of great sex, Goodman crossed her mind again. He was still quiet. Magnum claimed he was disappointed in her for entering the race. Said she should’ve discussed it with him first. Demanded she withdraw.

Men. Would either Magnum or Bailey have requested her blessings for anything?

Entering her house, Brooks froze in the doorway. Her jaw dropped. She mouthed, “Oh, my, god.”

Standing still, Brooks contemplated what to do next. Should she call Morgan and ask her to have the driver bring her back? Should she dial 9-1-1? Instead she closed the door, got in her car, and drove a mile to her neighborhood grocery.

She powered off the engine before dialing his number. “I need you to meet me.”

“I can’t talk right now,” he said. “I’m on the other line with my wife.”

Her voice trembled. “I need you now. Please.”

“Hold, on,” he said.

The phone went silent for a moment then he was back. “Where are you? What’s happening?”

They’d been together long enough for him to know the tone of her voice when she was scared. It’d only happened once in their relationship and his response was the same, except that time he hadn’t been on the phone with Morgan.

“Meet me at my house right away,” she said.

“Be there in thirty minutes,” Magnum said, ending the call.

Brooks hoped if Morgan found out that she’d called Magnum, that her friend would understand. Despite their ongoing argument, she still considered Morgan her friend.

Each minute that passed felt like an hour. Brooks waited until she had one minute to spare then drove back to her home.

Magnum’s car was outside the gate. When she drove in, he followed her then escorted her to the front door. She placed a finger over her lips, turned the knob, then stepped aside.

He stood beside her, stared at what she saw, then asked, “What?”

“What do you mean, what? Don’t you see there are so many flowers in here it looks like someone died?” she commented. “I didn’t order any of these.”

“Neither did I. Obviously, you have an admirer.”

“Not one with keys to my house. You don’t even have keys to my house.”

“But my wife does. You called her?”

“I was with her when this happened.”

Magnum became silent. Shook his head.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“Morgan knows I hate red roses. Reminds me of weddings and funerals.”

“Shouldn’t that be white roses?” he asked.

Brooks gazed into Magnum’s eyes, closed the door behind him. “You know she knows about us. She’s been making a lot of accusations lately. Maybe we should tell her the truth.” Brooks checked each of the eight bouquets for a card but there wasn’t one.

“And what exactly would you say to my cheating wife?” Magnum asked, not awaiting her response. “I’m more concerned about you dropping out of the race. That’s the only thing you need to tell
my
cheating wife.”

Now Brooks had to wonder what Magnum knew? What if the arrangements were from Bailey? Even if he’d figured out the code to her security gate how would he have gotten the vases inside her home?

Entering her bedroom, she opened her nightstand drawer. Her gun wasn’t there and her spare set of house keys was missing. “Come here. Look at this.”

Magnum looked inside the drawer. “What? What am I looking for?”

“You know I keep a spare set of keys in here. They’re gone.”

“Your gun is gone, too. You probably moved them and don’t remember.” His hands rested on her shoulders. “You’re tense. You need to relax.”

He helped her recall that she’d left her gun in the living room. She’d call the twenty-four-hour locksmith as soon as Magnum left, which hopefully wouldn’t be any time soon. The feel of his strong fingers massaging her felt heavenly. Brooks’s eyes rolled to the top of her head. She couldn’t lie. She wanted and needed a man to take the edge off.

“Since you’re here, please stay the night with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

“Neither do I. You know how I feel about you, Brooks. But after tonight we need to discuss our situation. We can’t continue like this for the rest of our lives.”

Whatever Magnum was contemplating was too complicated. Brooks would handle their situation delicately and sex him, one orgasm at a time, until he had to leave.