Private Property Page 3

  The second bride was the daughter of an oil tycoon. Her father was sparing no expense to make her every wish come true, no matter how outrageous. Peri had spent most of the day attempting to convince her that her Venus-inspired Grecian-themed wedding may have seemed like a great idea, but requesting that her guests arrive in togas may not be in the best taste. Thankfully, he was able to persuade her. Both weddings were taking place within three weeks of one another, within the next ninety days. Peri had enough on his plate. The last thing he needed was Logan being a clingy significant other.

  “I understand that, Peri, but this relationship, which seems to be going nowhere, is stressing me,” Logan snapped.

  The vibration of his cell phone was exactly the saving grace Peri needed at that moment. He picked it up and said, “Hold that thought,” to Logan. Then, into his cell, he said, “Hey, what’s going on? I’m FaceTiming with my babe, so make it quick!” He winked into the camera. Logan’s facial expression let him know that the conversation was far from over.

  “Peri, turn to VH1 right now! The deejay Madison wants for her reception is being featured,” April Kirby, his assistant, said. “This guy is getting like two hundred eighty grand a show in Vegas. There’s no way she can get him. That’s almost half her budget.”

  Peri grabbed the remote and clicked his television on. Sure enough, on screen was DJ Avenger, the deejay his client had requested for her all-white toga soiree. Peri watched and learned that not only did DJ Avenger make over a quarter of a million dollars to play a club or event, but the deejay was also booked up for well over a year.

  That’s ridiculous, Peri thought. April was right. It looked as if there was no way his client would be able to have him for her wedding.

  “Babe, let me call you back,” Peri leaned up and said. “It’s April, and we have a mini crisis on our hands.”

  “There’s always a mini crisis on your hands, Peri!” Logan snapped.

  Peri turned on his speakerphone and said, “April, please confirm for Logan that this is an emergency!”

  “Hi, Lo-Lo!” April yelled through the phone as Peri held it up for Logan to see.

  “Hi, April. Fine, Peri. But you’d better call me back, because we’re not done,” Logan said just before the screen went blank, letting Peri know the call had ended.

  “Um, Peri, I wouldn’t exactly call this an emergency,” April said.

  “This guy is hella paid. Are you watching this?” Peri asked, his face glued to the television screen.

  “I know. It’s crazy. He’s like a millionaire, and all he does is spin records at clubs and parties,” April replied.

  “I’m in the wrong damn profession, that’s for sure,” Peri said as he watched DJ Avenger avoid the paparazzi waiting for him outside of a Las Vegas hotel. He was an average-looking guy, medium build, dark features, and dressed simply in jeans, a plain T-shirt, sneakers, and a pair of aviator shades even though it was after dark. Peri hated people who wore sunglasses at night. It seemed so extra and cliché. “He’s cute.”

  “Yeah, he’s a’ight, I guess. But he’s no Logan. And why were you rushing to end your conversation with him? This is far from an emergency, which you claimed it to be. What gives?”

  “Nothing,” Peri said, sitting back and contemplating how he was going to tell his client that she was going to have to hire another deejay. He had better come up with other suggestions to counteract the temper tantrum she would probably have when he told her the news.

  “Trouble in paradise already?”

  “No, no trouble. Just the same old same old. I guess we are at the point where there seems to be a need for a title, and you know how I am about that.”

  “Oh, God, here comes the breakup,” April groaned.

  “No one said anything about breaking up. You’re being as ridiculous as Logan is,” Peri said, reaching for his laptop and beginning a search in Google for celebrity deejays. The first person to pop up was DJ Avenger. Peri quickly scrolled past his name and picture. “You’re damn sure not an option. Anyway, April, we gotta come up with someone else and do it quickly,” Peri told his assistant.

  “I’m thinking we may be able to get the deejay who’s on the new Love & Hip Hop. He seems pretty cool,” April offered. “And he is fine!”

  “I’m not worried about how he’s gonna look on camera. I’m more concerned with his ability to entertain the guests and satisfy the need for the bride to name-drop.”

  “Well, you were the one who pointed out how cute DJ Avenger was, so I thought looks mattered. No need to get an attitude, sir. Maybe you need to call your boo back. Sounds like you need a little something something.”

  “I don’t have an attitude. I’m just tired, and you don’t have to be so sensitive. Maybe you need to find someone to break you off so you won’t be so offended. It has been a minute, hasn’t it?”

  “Shut up, you jerk!” April laughed. “I can’t stand you!”

  Peri couldn’t help but laugh at his assistant. He and April had been friends for years. They met while both were working at a coffee shop near Baxter College, where they were both enrolled. She was studying business administration in hopes of landing a job in corporate America, and he was a student hoping to land the older professor he was sleeping with.

  The daughter of the coffee shop owner was diagnosed with cancer, and Peri decided to do a fundraiser to help out with her medical expenses. The event not only raised over $5,000, but it sparked something within Peri and catapulted him into his career of event planning. He had found his niche and passion.

  As his clientele grew and he became busier, Peri became overwhelmed. April took pity on him and began helping him out, telling him it was only temporary until she found a real job. Peri promised that he would look for a permanent assistant, but deep down they both knew it was a lie when he said it. The two worked well together. She could handle his temperament, and she somehow knew what he was thinking without him even saying it. April Kirby was his best friend and the only family he had.

  Following up on her lack of love life, Peri said, “What happened to the guy from the Jag dealership? What was his name? George? Glen?”

  “Greg. And I don’t talk to him anymore. He’s boring. All he talks about are cars and the people who buy them.”

  “Maybe he’s trying to impress you.”

  “Then he should try talking to me about the last book that he read or movie that he saw. Not some businessman who came and dropped fifty grand as a down payment for a car. I’m not impressed.”

  “Now if he were the man who dropped the fifty Gs down—”

  “That might be a little more impressive.” April laughed and then quietly said, “Speaking of fifty grand, you got another medical bill in the mail. It’s a pretty big one.”

  Peri paused for a few moments and then said, “Pay it.”

  “Don’t you want to know what it’s for?” she asked.

  “Nope, just pay it,” Peri told her.

  “When is the last time you talked to him?”

  “Pay the bill. Keep looking for a deejay. Meet me at the venue in the morning at eight thirty.”

  “Peri—”

  Peri hung up. He didn’t want to talk about anything else. Picking up his glass of wine as he got up from the sofa, Peri walked into the kitchen. He poured the red liquid down the sink, watching as it went into the drain. It reminded him of the color of blood.

  He closed his eyes and tried to think of something else, but he couldn’t.

  Damn April for bringing up the bills. All she had to do was pay them like I told her to. She didn’t have to say anything. There’s so much money in my damn bank account, I wouldn’t even have missed whatever she had to pay. Just pay the damn bill. Not that his ass even cares that I am the one paying it. He probably doesn’t even appreciate all that I do for him. Mortgage paid off, car paid for, and now I’m paying medical expenses for a man who despises me more than anyone else on earth. Little does he know the feeling is mutual. I hat
e him as much as he hates me.

  Peri rinsed the glass out and turned off the light. He walked back into the living room. Just as he was about to close his laptop, a signal notified him that there was a FaceTime call. Peri declined it quickly, then paused for a second and turned his attention back to his computer screen. He scrolled back up to the top of the celebrity deejay list he’d pulled up moments before.

  He couldn’t help looking at the picture of DJ Avenger smiling on stage. There was something about the picture that made Peri laugh, and then he realized that it was because of the familiar look in DJ Avenger’s eye. It was the same look that Peri had at the end of a successful event when he knew that everyone was satisfied: the clients, the guests, and most of all, Peri himself.

  Suddenly, there was a flash of what looked like lightning in the window. He walked over to see if there was a storm approaching. To Peri’s horror, it wasn’t lightning at all. He ran and grabbed his phone off the sofa, dialing 911 as he opened the door and ran toward the brightness across the street, praying the entire time.

  Chapter 4

  Jonah Harrington, 1976 Harrington Way

  Sweat was pouring from Jonah’s face as the sound of Eminem telling him to “Lose Yourself” blasted in his ears. Although it was after two in the morning, he had been running on the treadmill in the fitness room of his house for almost forty-five minutes. Working out was what he did when he couldn’t sleep. It was much healthier than eating snacks in the pantry, which was what he really wanted to be doing.

  He changed the setting on the machine to cool-down mode and inhaled deeply. The song ended, and as soon as the intro to the next song began, he stopped so suddenly that he was almost thrown off the treadmill. He quickly hit the skip button on his iPod, but it wasn’t fast enough to stop the memory. He was taken back three years, to the day that he and his best friend, Zeke, walked into a local sneaker store he’d found on the internet. Zeke was looking for a particular pair of Nikes that he saw in some men’s magazine.

  “Man, look, I am not spending my entire day off with you going around, looking for some gym shoes,” Jonah said when they walked into the sleek store. Rap music blared through the speakers of the store where everything seemed to have a designer label. Jonah knew this was way different from the typical stores where he shopped, which mainly consisted of Old Navy, Aeropostale, and occasionally JCPenney when he needed fancier attire.

  “They aren’t ‘gym shoes.’ They are limited edition Yeezys, and this spot has them. I already called and checked. I told the chick I talked to that I would make it worth her time if she hooked me up.”

  “Yeezys?” Jonah shook his head. “What is a Yeezy? Is that a new brand?”

  Zeke found that funny and slapped Jonah’s back so hard that it stung a little. “Damn, Jonah. I swear, the more I try to make you hip, the more you disappoint me. Yeezy as in Kanyeezy, Kanye West, the rapper. Come on, dog.”

  “Ohhhh.” Jonah nodded and followed his friend through the store, trying not to stare at the outrageous numbers on the price tags that caught his eye.

  Suddenly, Zeke stopped. “Daaammmn! Jackpot!”

  Jonah glanced to see what he was referring to, thinking it was maybe one of the T-shirts hanging on a nearby rack that had a sale price of $75. Zeke wasn’t talking about anything hanging on the rack. He was staring at the girl standing behind the register.

  Jonah stopped and stared himself. The girl was gorgeous—slender with a bright smile and an infectious laugh that lit up the entire store. The line of customers, which was made up mostly of men, didn’t seem to mind waiting because they got the chance to enjoy what she was saying as she rang them up.

  “Thanks again, and I’m glad you found what you were looking for.” She smiled.

  “Oh, I definitely found more than that, and I will be back. You can bet on it,” the guy said, reaching for the bag she was passing him.

  Jonah could see Zeke plotting as he waited in line. As soon as he got to the front, he smiled and said, “Hello, beautiful. I called a little while ago, and you’re holding a pair of limited-edition Yeezys for me.”

  “Hmmm, are you sure? We don’t normally hold items, especially anything of that caliber.”

  Jonah saw the smile on Zeke’s face drop just a bit, and he waited to see what would happen next.

  “Yes, I’m sure. I called before driving all the way over here. I told the person on the phone that I was on the way and I was coming right over.” It was clear that Zeke was trying to remain calm.

  “Okay, let me check right quick. What’s the name?”

  “Zeke, but I didn’t give anyone my name. The woman on the phone double-checked to make sure you had them and then said she would hold them in the back for me as long as I got here before you all closed.”

  “I’m the only woman here, and I haven’t talked to anyone on the phone. Are you sure this is the right store?”

  “This is the only Stadium in the area, right?” Zeke asked.

  “Yes, as far as I know.” She nodded.

  “Then this is the store I called.”

  “Give me one minute. I’ll be right back,” she said, excusing herself.

  “Man, this some bullshit,” Zeke grumbled. “I called before we drove all the way the hell out here. Now if they don’t have my shit, ain’t no telling how hard I’m gonna go off in this piece.”

  “Calm down, Zeke. They’re just sneakers. You’ll get them somewhere else. It’s no big deal,” Jonah said, then started nodding to the UGK song that had just started playing.

  The girl came back out and said, “My manager is talking to someone on the phone in the back. It’ll just be one moment. I’m really sorry about this confusion, but I’m sure we can figure it out. Sir, is there something I can help you with while we wait?”

  Jonah rapped along with the beat of the music:

  She be cross country, givin’ all that she got.

  A thousand a pop, I’m pullin’ Bentleys off the lot.

  I smashed up the gray one, bought me a red.

  Every time we hit the parkin’ lot, we turn head.

  “Sir?”

  “J, man, she’s talking to you!”

  He was so into the song that he didn’t even realize Zeke and the cashier were talking to him. “Huh?”

  “I’m sorry for interrupting your groove.” The cashier smiled at him, and he blushed. “I was just making sure there wasn’t anything I could help you find while we wait for my manager to come out.”

  “Naw, I’m cool,” Jonah said.

  “Yeah, you are,” she replied.

  Jonah noticed a small birthmark on the side of her neck when she pulled her shoulder-length hair back. Something inside made him want to reach out and touch it. There was something familiar about her. Then he realized she looked just like one of the lead actresses in the cheerleading movie Bring It On, which his younger sister used to watch over and over when they were teenagers.

  “Soooo, Lydia, what seems to be the problem?” a tall guy, who was dressed in a paisley button-down shirt and the tightest jeans Jonah had ever seen, came out and asked.

  “This gentleman says that he called and spoke to someone about holding some Yeezys. I told him that we don’t hold specialty items but—”

  “Ohhhhh, yeeeeees! You’re the man I talked to a little while ago. I remember! You told me if I held them you would, I believe you said, ‘make it worth my while. ’” The man batted his eyelashes at Zeke, who was standing like he was caught in the middle of a bad dream he couldn’t get out of.

  It took everything within Jonah not to laugh. Zeke prided himself on being a ladies’ man and being able to pull any woman he wanted. He was tall, athletic, handsome, and charming, everything women gravitated toward, so for him, it was easy. When he called the store and made the offer, Jonah could only imagine what his friend was plotting when he was on the phone with who he thought was a woman.

  “Wait, you are who he talked to?” The woman whose name he now knew w
as Lydia giggled. “Okayyyyyy.”

  “I have your kicks, just like I promised. Let me get them for you.” The guy gave Zeke a wink, singing as he walked off, “‘I choose you, baby.’”

  “I am so sorry.” Lydia shrugged. “When you said you talked to a woman, I just thought—”

  “It’s all good,” Zeke said and leaned on the counter. “You can make it up to me.”

  “Really? And how’s that?” Lydia asked in a manner that let Jonah know she wasn’t too excited by his friend’s suggestion.

  “How about you give me your number and we talk about it over dinner tomorrow night?” Zeke smiled.

  “I’m flattered,” she said flatly. “But I really don’t think you’re my type.”

  “Why not?” Zeke stood up straight.

  Jonah could no longer hold his laughter, and a slight snort escaped. Zeke turned and gave him an ugly look.

  “Here you go!” The tall guy came back, carrying the box of sneakers. “Size thirteen, right?”

  “No! I said eleven, and you said you had them. I asked like five times.” Zeke shook his head.

  “Calm down, boo. I got you.” The man laughed.

  “Stop playing, Ricardo!” Lydia took the box from him. “They are an eleven. Is this all for you tonight?” Lydia opened the box and took out the red sneakers, passing them to Zeke, who inspected them all over.

  “No, that’s not all,” Zeke said. “I’m still tryin’a figure out why you say I’m not your type.”

  “I guess I kinda know what I like,” Lydia told him, then gestured toward Jonah.

  For a moment, Jonah was confused and made sure she wasn’t talking about someone behind him.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Zeke laughed. “Him?”

  “What? He’s cute, and he’s different.”

  “He’s corny and white!” Zeke turned to Jonah and said, “You know you’re my boy, no offense.”

  “None taken,” Jonah said, still shocked at what was taking place.

  “Trust me, she likes corny,” Ricardo told them. “Now the whole white thing is kinda shocking to me. But whatever floats your boat.”