I thought I'd let you all see what I've been up to. Here's an excerpt from Let Me Love You (tentative title), book 1 of my McClain Brothers series. It's unedited, subject to change, yada-yada-yada. Enjoy!!
Minutes later, I was in the backseat of a black Denali
with heavily tinted windows with Oba in the front seat chatting with the driver
on my way to—
“Hey, uh...Oba, who are we delivering this to?" I
asked.
Oba shrugged while glancing back at me. "He
didn't tell me."
I didn't ask the driver, because his old ass creeped
me out. He reminded me of Samuel L. Jackson's character in Django Unchained—gray and ornery. I did, however, lift the lid and
peek inside the box at the piece, one I'd seen Todd, another bench jeweler,
working on. A puffed heart made of what appeared to be zillions of tiny
diamonds on a platinum chain. It was brilliant and gorgeous.
What felt like forever later, we stopped in front of a
boutique hotel, a really nice one, and I started feeling pissed about
delivering this gorgeous piece of jewelry to some skank. Nevertheless, I slid
out of the vehicle after the driver opened the door for me. Oba checked his
phone, said, "Fifth floor. Penthouse suite," and then motioned for me
to walk ahead of him.
I clutched the box nervously, wishing I had a bag to
put it in because I was afraid I'd drop it and its contents before we made it
to our destination. As if reading my mind, Oba said, "Hold on,"
reached into the front seat of the SUV, and unearthed a shiny black Bijou Park
sack. I took it from him, carefully sliding the box inside.
Oba walked closely behind me as I stepped through the
elegant lobby toward the elevators. My legs felt like rubber as the weight of
what I was doing settled on my shoulders. I was delivering an insanely
expensive piece of jewelry to someone, someone obviously rich and probably
famous. What if someone had followed us from Bijou Park and tried to rob us?
Sure, Oba was huge and armed, but what if a group of huge, armed dudes tried to
rob us? What if they kidnapped me and held me for ransom and—the elevator
dinged, making me jump, snatching me from my thoughts, and prompting me to step
inside. Moments later, the doors opened, and after we exited the elevator, Oba
had to give me a little nudge so I would start moving toward the only door in
the hallway. A cavernous bassline grew louder and louder as I approached the
door, and when I knocked timidly, I doubted it could be heard over the music.
Oba reached over my five-foot-two frame, which seemed
even smaller in stature with his imposing one towering over me, and beat his
fist against the door, startling me even though I saw him do it. I glanced up
at him nervously. He gave me a shrug and a smirk.
The music was lowered and the door swung open. A man
that damn near matched Oba in height and girth appeared with a scowl on his
face. He and Oba were on opposite ends of the skin tone spectrum. Where Oba was
dark as night, this man was extremely light-skinned with orangey-colored hair.
He frowned down at me then let his eyes climb up to Oba. That's when a smile
appeared on his face. As I stood there, he reached over my head and gave Oba
dap. "'Sup, my nigga?!"
Oba was just as animated as he said, "Sup, Dunn?!
You know…same ole grind. Shit, Park didn't tell me we were coming to see your
guy. Wish I’da known. I ain't know what I was getting into."
"Who dat?" This querying voice came from
inside the suite.
"Tell boss man Peter Park's folks are here with
that piece," Dunn said.
"A'ight," answered the voice.
"Y'all come in," Dunn offered, and then he
smiled at me. "O, man? Who we got here?"
I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. Because I
was running late this morning, I'd thrown on a pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt,
didn't bother to apply a stitch of makeup so the freckles that I'd always hated
were prominent on my face, and my wild natural hair was pushed away from my
face with a thick, cloth headband. I didn't look hideous, but I wasn't
displaying anything that made me worthy of his leer.
Before Oba could introduce me to Dunn and vice versa,
the voice returned and I found it was attached to another behemoth of a man—all
height and muscles like Oba and Dunn with a skin tone somewhere in between
theirs. "Aye, the boss said y'all can go on back there," he
announced, nodding toward a door deeper in the suite.
"A'ight, Tommy,” Oba said, looking from the voice
to me. “Lead the way, Jo."
I swallowed and moved toward the door only to hear
mumbling and snickering behind me, sure one or both of the two giants who evidently resided in
that suite were looking at my ass. I rolled my eyes again.
Knocking on the door, I felt my heart begin to race.
Who was this boss man of theirs? Was he rich and famous or just rich? Oba
obviously knew who he was, because he was familiar with his security. I wished
I had time to ask Oba who—
"Come in!" was yelled through the door.
I turned the knob and walked inside, stopping without
giving Oba room to enter.
I recognized him instantly, but anyone would've since
he was probably the most recognizable rapper on the planet. He wasn't old, only
in his late thirties, but had been in the rap game for so long he was
definitely considered one of the old heads at this point. Award-winning,
multi-platinum-selling, world-renowned, skilled like no other, and fine as all hell.
That's how I'd describe this man. I was shocked, pleasantly stunned into
silence and paralysis.
He was shirtless and the swollen muscles of his
chest and abdomen teased me as a sheet covered his lower body. He was sitting
on the side of the bed, his dreads hanging loosely around his
face. He wore a blank look on his face as I stood there unraveling
in his presence.
No release date yet, because--ahem--I'm still writing it. I'll keep you posted!!
