Say It Ain't So Read online

  Say It Ain’t So

  La Jill Hunt

  www.urbanbooks.net

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Copyright Page

  In Loving memory of my big brother, Troy V. Lee. For all of the love, laughs, and joy you brought into our lives. I will make sure the secret recipe for your Cheese burger Macaroni Hamburger Helper remains a legacy with our family, LOL. I miss you, Troy!!

  R.I.P. my friend!

  Acknowledgments

  Without a doubt, and as always, I thank God for opportunity, talent, patience, and sustenance.

  To Alyx, Kam, and Ken, you know Mommy loves you, even though I snap every now and then, LOL.

  To my family, for all of the love and support! Welcome baby Karissa aka Apple and baby Kaiden aka Cheeto. And welcome to the fam Chante Jones Hunt and Ken Moore.

  My BFF’s for life: Joycelyn Ward, Shantel Spencer, Saundra White, Yvette Lewis, Jana James, Roxanne Elmore, Tonya Kabia, Toye Farrar, Norell Smith, and Torrence Oxendine. After all of these years, it’s good to know you still have my back!

  To The Breakfast Crew—My NEW BFF’s, LOL. Chenay Cuffee (girl, you are def my ride or die road dawg who keeps me laughing), Monteal Cuffee (you are the glue that holds the crew together), Monica Simon (the fashionista glam diva who loves us enough to “waste” an outfit) and Anisha Holmes (the only one of us with any sense). I love you guys so much and I don’t know what I would do without our weekly “talks.”

  To Pastor K. W. Brown, Elder Valerie Brown, and the Mt. Lebanon Missionary Baptist Church Family, thanks for loving, supporting, and praying for me, even in my absence. The prodigal child will be home soon. Believe that.

  To my VZ BFF’s: Omedia Cutler, Milly Avent, Angela Burleigh, Pamela Carrington, Robin LeBron, Yolanda Stanislaus (and John, LOL), Cherie Johnson, Ross Cooper aka Mosaic, and Chris CTY Young. You know I love you guys!

  To my literary fam who stays in my corner and continue showing me love: Dwayne S. Joseph (man, you are truly my brother), Nakea Murray (for all of your hard core advice), Portia Cannon (my agent and cheerleader!) Robilyn Heath, Thomas Long, K’Wan, Kevin Elliott, Erick S. Gray, Nikki Turner, Tiffany L. Smith, Brandon McCalla, and Karen Q. Miller.

  To Carl and Martha Weber and the Urban Books staff, thank you for all that you do.

  To my Navy College Crew: Leslie Dickey (my on-the-job therapist), Tamara James (my personal fashion police), Tommy Hale (for listening to me talk ALL DAY LONG, lol), Rebecca Ludwig (the “token white chick” girlfriend), Bill Rogers (who stole my desk), Anissa Walker, Lowell Bellard (and no, I didn’t write this book on company time!), Ray (one Ray, not Ray-Ray, or Blue Ray) Samson, Hugo (GOOD MORNING!) Roman, Rosnette (I’m at the Exchange) Hayes, Mr. Byrd (the new GRANDPA) and Robert (The Rev) Jones.

  To the fans, the readers, the bookstores, and the supporters—thank you, thank you, thank you! Please hit me up at [email protected] or on Facebook.

  Prologue

  “The cream always rises to the top, ladies. Don’t ever forget that!” Paisley called out as she seductively moved her body off the floor and kneeled in front of the empty chair. The sounds of Prince’s “Darling Nikki” blared from the speakers and she swerved to the beat. “More! More! More! Make him want you, ladies! Come on!”

  Her eyes closed as she imagined her lover seated in the chair, and she moved her body in a way that she knew would please him. She glanced into the mirror at the group of twenty women mimicking the movements she had been teaching them, each with a chair of their own in front of them. They were a varied group, from the twenty-one-year-old, pencil-thin blonde, to the full-figured, fifty-year-old Asian grandmother, to the small-framed African American business woman. Each student had paid an extra fifty dollars for tonight’s sold-out, two-hour “Flavor of the Month” class, where they learned a sexy dance number Paisley choreographed.

  Dressed in men’s dress shirts and ties, the women let Paisley know by the intensity of their facial expressions that they were trying to perfect each step of the exotic lap dance routine. As the music pounded louder and guitar sounds pumped in the air, Paisley opened her shirt and tossed her head around and around, her long hair whipping across her face. The song ended, and she could hear the relief of her students as they all sighed, groaned, and applauded at the same time.

  “Now that was a workout!” one student gasped.

  “Naw, the workout is when I get home tonight and demonstrate for my man!” another laughed.

  Paisley laughed, “That’s right. Use what you got, ladies, and I have given you a lot tonight!”

  “Indeed, you have,” the older lady told her. “I told my doctor that coming here was so much better than the boring physical therapy he prescribed for me. And my mobility has improved so much.”

  “Believe me, I look forward to coming to The Playground every week. I wish I could come more, but my schedule just won’t let me,” the black woman, who Paisley knew was a real estate agent, added.

  The other ladies nodded in agreement as they wiped beads of perspiration from their faces and foreheads. The moment made Paisley proud. She knew that opening a studio like hers was a risk, one she almost hadn’t taken, but seeing the smiles on her students’ faces and hearing the excitement in their voices let her know that she had made the right decision. After graduating with her degree in physical therapy and finding no satisfaction working in a confined clinical setting, she had decided to purchase the old dance studio she passed daily and transform it into an erotic fitness center for women. She coupled her medical training with her talent, her extensive experience as a video vixen, and her dance training, and the result was a hit that she named “The Playground.” Paisley’s classes were all about teaching women how to embrace being sexy—how to move, look, and feel sexy. She felt that all women were beautiful regardless of age, shape, size, or weight, and she instilled that confidence into all of her Playground members. Her studio was more successful than she ever could have imagined, and was now the “it” place for women.

  Paisley’s BlackBerry chimed. She looked at her watch and announced, “All right, ladies. Same time next month, unless you’re scheduled for regular classes this week!”

  “Bye, Paisley!”

  The women all hugged her as they left. Picking up her phone, she walked over to the stereo and turned it off. Smiling, she redialed the last number.

  “Too busy shaking your ass to take my call?” the deep voice asked.

  “Now, is that any way for a man of God to be talking?” She laughed.

  “Yeah, if he’s trying to get in contact with you and he knows you’re too busy shaking your ass to come to the phone. And don’t go there with that man of God crap. God knows my heart and my flaws. No man is perfect.”

  “Boy, someone is having a bad day,” Paisley said. “And for your information, I was finishing up my class!”

  “Oh, so you were too busy teaching other women how to shake their asses to answer the phone.”

  “Whate
ver!”

  It had been a while since they had talked. Nearly four months. They would check in with each other weekly via text messaging, but their verbal conversations were few and far between. It was just one of the downsides to their friendship, but she had gotten used to it. He was busy and so was she. The more successful they both became, the less they were available.

  “How are things going? I read the article they did on you in Jet. You know I was so proud,” she told him.

  “Thanks,” he replied. “I saw you in XXL Magazine a few months back. You’re looking better than ever.”

  Paisley was surprised. She wondered if he’d had to sneak a peak in the grocery store. Who are you kidding? You know he doesn’t go to the grocery store. He would get mobbed by the fans. Hmm, maybe he glanced at it while waiting at the airport. They sell XXL in the terminals. It doesn’t matter. The important thing is that he saw it and he thinks you look good.

  “Thanks. That means a lot coming from you,” she said.

  “I really need to talk.”

  Something in his voice made her uneasy. She could sense the distress. “What’s up? Talk to me.”

  “Are you done for the night?”

  “Yeah. I have a meeting later with Diesel,” she said, referring to her friend and business partner, “but you know I got time for you. What’s going on?”

  “Let’s go to Charley’s.”

  “Huh? When did you even get into town? How long are you here for?” The words came out of her mouth so fast that it sounded like one long sentence. The thought of seeing him excited her. It had been almost a year since they had met face-to-face. The last time they had seen each other was backstage at the BET Awards. She was about to go on stage as a lead dancer for the Outkast performance, and he had just received an award for Gospel Album of the Year.

  “Congratulations,” she said, and smiled as he walked by.

  “Thank you, beautiful lady,” he said, leaning over and gently touching her hand. The moment was brief, but meaningful. Later that night, he left her a message on her voice mail telling her how wonderful it was seeing her. She still had the message saved. Now, here he was, out of nowhere, telling her to meet him, and wanting to meet at a bar at that. Something’s up, and it must be big.

  “No one knows I’m here. I just landed and I’m getting a rental car. Catch a cab and meet me there in twenty minutes,” he said, and hung up the phone before she could object. Paisley gathered up her towel and tried to think. Twenty minutes didn’t even give her time to shower and change. Well, my being late won’t make him any more pissed at the world than he already is, she thought as she smiled and rushed to get ready.

  An hour later, all eyes were on her as she made her way through the mixed crowd of college students, cowboy hats, and surfer dudes to the back of the club where, to her pleasure, she found him sitting. At any other place they would be worried that someone would recognize them, but not at Charley’s; most of the customers were so drunk that they probably wouldn’t recognize their own parents if they walked in the joint.

  “I knew you were gonna be late,” he said as he stood up. He still looked the same: tall and lean, cocoa brown complexion with deep-set, mysterious eyes. They were dressed alike, both wearing jeans and white shirts. His black leather jacket was on the back of his seat, while she had hers on.

  She rushed into his arms, elated to finally be able to hug him. The familiar scent of Kenneth Cole Black filled her nostrils. His arms held her tight and he almost crushed her body into his. It was a struggle holding back the tears of joy that were threatening to emerge. Instead, she blinked them back and her eyes rested on the table. She saw the glass holding the dark liquor.

  “Whoa! I know this drink ain’t yours,” she said, releasing herself from his grasp.

  “It’s been that kind of week,” he told her as they sat down. The telltale signs of weariness were in his expression and she couldn’t resist reaching over and touching his handsome face.

  “Must be, for you to sneak down here to see me,” she said as she smiled. “Drinking, cursing. What’s going on?”

  “Everything,” he told her. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “Start at the beginning,” Paisley told him. She eased her jacket off and turned to place it on the back of her chair. She could feel someone’s eyes on her, and turned to see a guy staring. His eyes went from her breasts to her face, then he quickly turned away. She was used to the attention and ignored him, turning her focus back to the conversation. “Things can’t be that bad. Every time I turn on the radio, I hear ‘You Are’.”

  “Crazy, isn’t it? I can’t believe it myself.” He laughed shortly.

  “What’s crazy about it, the fact that it’s being played on all the stations now, not just the gospel ones?” She laughed.

  “Well, yeah, plus it’s a song I wrote about you! You still got that letter I wrote all those years ago?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” she confessed. It was tucked right in her top drawer, along with the rest of the letters and poems he wrote her that eventually became hit songs. She couldn’t help but feel flattered that she was his muse. “But having a platinum album and a number one single is a good thing, right?”

  “You know what, Paisley? I really don’t know. It’s all beginning to be so damn much. Sometimes, I feel like such a fraud. This whole image thing, you know it’s not really me,” he said. “I’m not some perfect saint like people think I am, you know that.”

  “No one says you have to be perfect. You’re human just like everyone else,” she replied.

  “Naw, I’m the Prince of Praise, the Gospel Godson, the Singing Sensation . . .”

  “You’re right, and those are all things to be proud of, but you’re also you. You’re putting these expectations on yourself, and you don’t have to,” she interrupted him. There’s no way I’m going to let him have a pity party on me. I am not the one. He has too much to be thankful for, and he’s too blessed to even go there. She was determined to go word for word, and they both knew she could out talk the best of them.

  “Did I mention that I hate my wife? I hate being around her. I hate that I have to look at her. I extended my tour a month and a half because I didn’t want to go home,” he said, and stared. Paisley didn’t have a response for that one. All these years, she knew how he felt, but he never said anything, so neither did she. It wasn’t her place. He had chosen to say “I do” all those years ago; no one had made him. He picked up his glass, swallowed the liquor in one gulp, and told her, “I can’t do this anymore. I want a divorce.”

  Paisley sat speechless, not knowing what to say. He seemed to be relieved, and smiled.

  “Would you like another?”

  The voice seemed to come out of nowhere and startled her. She looked up and saw a waitress in a Charley’s sweatshirt standing next to the table.

  “Pais, you want a drink?” he asked.

  “No, no thank you,” she answered.

  “You can bring me another one,” he told the waitress. “Jack on the rocks.”

  “Coming right up.” The girl smiled and rushed off to get his drink.

  “Say something,” he told her.

  “What do you want me to say?” Paisley shrugged.

  “Hell, I don’t know. Say what you’re feeling. What are you thinking?”

  I’m thinking that you’re out of your damn mind. I’m thinking that you shoulda thought about all this nine fucking years ago when I told you marrying her ass was a bad idea. I’m thinking that if you think I’m going to just say “okay” and we’re going to live happily ever after, you’ve got it twisted!

  Instead of sharing what she was thinking, Paisley just said, “I think you should pray before you do anything.”

  “Oh, come on! What the hell is that? I fly all the way here, risk everything to come and meet you, pour my heart and soul out and all you can come up with is ‘I think you should pray’?” His voice was full of frustration.

&nb
sp; “What do you want me to say? You know that divorcing your wife for no reason would be career suicide right now. You also know that there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that you and I would be able to just pick up where we left off before your ass decided to get married. You didn’t like her when you were dating her!” Paisley shook her head. The waitress brought his drink to the table and he reached into his pocket and gave her a fifty.

  “I’ll be right back with your change.” She smiled.

  “Naw, you’re good,” he mumbled.

  “You sure?” she asked, looking at Paisley for confirmation.

  Paisley nodded and told her, “Yes, thank you.”

  He picked up the glass, again swallowing the entire drink, his eyes never leaving Paisley. The tension now between them was thick, and she wondered what was next.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Well, I guess now I take you home and go back to the hotel, unless you wanna join me?” He smiled.

  “You know that’s not happening.” She smiled back. For a split second, she considered joining him. She still wanted him; wanted to feel him inside her once again. Feel his lips on hers, his tongue tasting her very being. Have him satisfy her like only he could. Make love to him like they had done many nights, many years ago, before he stood before God and everyone else and vowed to love, honor, and cherish a woman he knew he couldn’t stand.

  They stood up and put their coats on, then walked hand in hand out into the chilly January night. Being the true gentleman that he was, he opened the car door and they got into the rented Lincoln. He turned the radio station as they waited for the car to warm up, and both of them laughed when they heard his voice singing “You Are.” He pulled out of the parking lot and as she listened to the words of the song, her song, Paisley again considered going back to his hotel room.

  No one would ever know. You can be his and he can be yours, just for tonight. Just like old times. No harm, no foul. Just go. You are Paisley Lawrence, the Sensual Seductress. Be the fantasy you know he wants. The one you once were. The one you’ll always be.