Be My Babygirl

“It’s massive. Fifty people could live here comfortably.” I can’t tear my gaze from the beautiful home.

“And they often do. My grandmother is one of those people who’s never met a stranger. She’s often got people down on their luck, or recovering from illness or a surgery, staying with her. Not to mention, my brother and his frequent visitors.”

“And your ex,” I mumble.

His brow furrows. “What was that?”

This is no time for a deep dive into our relationship. “Uh... sex. I said, I owe you sex, from earlier when I was tired and I’m sure we’ll be able to find more than enough private places to sneak off to—”

He sits up further in his seat, pointing to the mansion. “There’s Rawley.”

The car pulls to a stop before the enormous front porch. I look through the window to see a man that looks very much like a younger version of Darius standing on the top step, waiting for us. His hair is a lighter brown, his eyes lighter as well.

I find I don’t like his smile. It makes me uneasy, like he’s calculating every smile, gesture, or word he’s about to say.

The driver holds open the door and Darius grabs my hand. “Come. You have quite a few people to meet.”

And then he freezes, the smile dropping from his face.

Emerging from behind Rawley is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. She has ice blue eyes, wavy, chestnut hair, and a complexion like a porcelain doll. She’s tall and thin, with an ample set of breasts that ride high on her chest. When she smiles, it's like she’s a contestant in a beauty pageant.

One who already knows she’s won the crown.Chapter 12DariusJesus. That didn’t take long at all. I knew we’d see Tiffany when we returned home, but I never expected she’d show up within seconds of our arrival.

There was a time when I thought she was pretty. Beautiful, even. But now all I see is malice in those ice-blue eyes and vanity in her every perfect feature.

Rawley leaves the porch and trots down the stairs, giving me a massive hug. I pat his back awkwardly. Rawley isn’t a hugger. What the hell is going on here? I don’t miss the way Tiffany holds her head up in the air and looks down her nose at Katie.

“Welcome home, Darius,” she says coolly. “You brought a tagalong?”

My hands ball into fists at the way Katie’s cheeks redden.

“Tiffany, didn’t expect the pleasure of your appearance so soon. What luck.”

Sarcasm drips from my tone like melting ice cream, which only stokes her fire. Her blue eyes narrow and her lips purse, before she ropes her hands around Rawley’s bicep.

“Rawley brought me home for your arrival.”

Rawley looks abashed. “Now, sweetheart, we said we would talk to him later…”

“Oh, but we may as well clear things up soon, shouldn’t we? Seeing as he brought a guest and all.”

Rawley winces and forces a fake laugh. “Well, Tiffany and I are… we’re dating,” he says, his palms pointing upward in a gesture of surrender. I feel as if he’s punched my gut, all the wind whooshing right out of me.

Doesn’t he know what she’s capable of?

“I see.” I give him a cold smile. “Well then, let’s toast the happy couple. You two deserve each other.”

I wrap my hand around Katie’s waist. “Meet Katie.” A note of pride enters my voice, though it shouldn’t. This is only a hoax. Just to get us through this. Even if it feels less and less like a hoax every minute. “My fiancée.”

Tiffany’s eyes narrow to mere slits for a split second before she forces a fake smile.

“Ah, I see. Isn’t that…” she looks down her nose. I can see her icy gaze searching Katie’s left finger for a ring. “Quaint.”

A door slams, and Gran comes stomping on the porch with a broom in one hand and a duster in the other. She’s dressed in old sweats, her hair tied up in a handkerchief, dust smeared on her cheeks.

“Well, look at who the cat dragged in,” she says with a cackle. “And Darius, you brought us a guest!”

She hands Tiffany the duster and broom. “Tiffany, be a dear and dust the mantel while I greet our guests, will you?” She practically shoves her inside. “That’s a girl.”

Rawley purses his lips, but Gran ignores him. I stifle a smile. She knows exactly what she’s doing. She comes down the steps and gives me a hug that’s noticeably weaker than the last time I came. When was the last time I came? It’s her eightieth birthday, and she deserves a party. Still, I have to admit, I’m glad Katie’s with me. It’s odd going home.

She leans in and whispers in my ear, “That girl you brought looks a lot sweeter than the Wicked Witch of the West.” She pulls back and reaches for Katie.