Page 3 of Brown Sugar
“I’m not letting you go ’til I get to explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain this time,” I snap. “I saw you with your arms around her. Yourlipson her.”
“Alexis?” he laughs. “Baby, she’s just a friend. You know that!”
“Get out of the elevator.”
I reach for the button to the ground floor. He grabs hold of my hands in an attempt to lace his fingers with mine. Several of his friends have trailed into the hall after us, nosily craning their necks and listening to our fight.
The elevator doors glide closed and we’re finally alone as it sinks down the many hotel floors.
Shawn uses the time to try to pull me into his arms. Attempts I dodge until he has me cornered, blocking me with his long arms that come in handy both on and off the court.
“Kiki, will you just listen? Alexis is my friend. You know you’re the one I really love.”
“Your friend you hug and kiss on? You expect me to believe that?”
“What does it matter when you’re my girl?”
“You’re unbelievable!”
His brows have joined together to form a line of confusion. “C’mon, baby, are you really going to let some stupid shit like this get between us?”
“Yes!” I answer as the elevator dings.
We’ve reached the ground floor. I’m ducking out from under him the moment the doors open.
Amari calls my name from the other end of the lobby. She and my security have apparently spent the last ten minutes trying to get the clerk at the front desk to cooperate and tell them where I went.
As Amari and my security start toward me, so does Shawn—he’s on my heels still doing his best to explain away what I witnessed.
But I’m done listening.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been confronted by the possibility Shawn’s cheating on me.
In the past, it was only rumors. Rumblings in gossip blogs like Messy Mandy, where she detailed how Shawn and his teammates flew groupies out at away games and put them up in hotels. Thirsty girls filling up Shawn’s comment section on his social media. Questions from Amari and close friends ofmine about Shawn’s whereabouts or a paparazzi photo of him snapped a little too close to a girl in the VIP section of a club.
But never anything definitive. Never anything irrefutable.
…until now.
I know what I saw. I know what it looks like when a man is cozied up to a woman he’s interested in, and that’s what Shawn was doing. There was nothing platonic about it. And he essentially admitted it in the elevator even after first denying it.
“K, what’s up? What’s wrong?” Amari calls.
“We need to go. I’ll be late for the fitting and for rehearsals.”
“Baby, don’t do this. Don’t turn your back?—”
“Nobody’s turning their back except for you, Shawn. I saw what I saw.”
“You walk away, you’ll regret it!” he says, dropping the apologetic tone.
“I highly doubt that.” I round on Amari and the rest of my security team. “Let’s go.”
“Somebody find somewhere to put this!” I call out as I’m rushed along backstage. I’m clutching the Grammy I won less than five minutes ago.
My entourage is so large, I might as well be surrounded by a cloud of locusts. I’m not sure who even grabs the golden trophy from me. All I see is a hand slip out of the crowd of moving people. I’m shepherded along like I always am. The center of attention. The nexus of the universe.