FIXED ON YOU TRILOGY: Jayoncé ❤️ 18+🥵🔥

CHAPTER 5: YES

Chapter Five


 


 


I woke up right before noon the next morning when I heard my phone buzz an incoming text. It was plugged in on the nightstand next to me, but I wasn’t ready to wake up, having gotten to bed after six.


Lying with my eyes closed, I grinned into my pillow and recalled the events of the night before. The things Shawn had said to me, the way he’d kissed me, touched me—my heart sped up at the memory. Had all of that really happened? My obsessive relationship disorder made it really easy for me to imagine that things happened between me and others that actually hadn’t. It had been several years since I had fallen into those old habits. Now, was I doing it again?


No, I wasn’t making it up. I couldn’t make up a kiss like that. It had happened. And I had wanted more to happen. But in the morning with distance and fresh eyes, I could see so much better how it shouldn’t happen. As much as I wanted him, I was already thinking about him way more than was healthy.

I went through the steps of recognizing unnatural fixation in my mind: Did I think about Shawn to the point that it affected my work or daily life? I’d certainly thought about him a lot after he’d left the club, but I’d managed to work my shift without a problem.
Did I think he was the only one for me? No way. In fact, I suspected I shouldn’t be mixed up with him at all.
Did I believe I would never be happy if I didn’t see him again? I’d be disappointed, but not devastated. Well, probably not devastated. All right, I’d be devastated.
Did I call him or visit him obsessively to the point of stalking?  I didn’t know where he lived or worked. If I was fixating, I’d have figured that out before I’d gone to bed that morning. I didn’t even have his number.


Oh, wait, I did. But I hadn’t used it. I was fine. For the moment.


Still, I couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to be with me. Shawn Carter held celebrity status. He could date supermodels and pedigreed women—why would he want me? The lack of an answer kept me doubting what had really occurred between him and me.


And then there was his ridiculous offer to pay off my student loans in exchange for hanging on him like arm candy. How on earth did I qualify for that? If I were another type of girl, one with dollar signs in the eyes, I’d be all over his—what did he call it?—proposition.  Fortunately, money didn’t speak to me beyond what I needed for survival. The only temptation was the opportunity to spend more time with that delicious specimen of a man. But I’d already been through this—it was not a good idea.


Besides, if I’d understood him correctly,
The option to spend time with him stood with or without accepting his job.


Not an option, Bey!


It was a confusing idea anyway. Sleep with him without a relationship but pretend to have a relationship. Why not just have a relationship?


And there I was, already trying to make his offer more than it was.


I sighed and stretched my arms above my head. Clearly I wasn’t going back to sleep and Shawn was too much to contemplate without coffee. I turned over and grabbed my phone to read my text, secretly hoping it was from him.


It was from my brother. “Be there in twenty.” 


I sat up, panicked. Did I forget a visit from Idris?


Scrolling through my texts I saw he’d sent one at seven in the morning. “Court cancelled. Taking a fast train to NYC. We need to have lunch.”
I threw my phone onto the bed next to me and groaned. As my only living relative, I loved Idris with extreme depth and neediness. But his role in my life had transformed from sibling to caretaker when I was sixteen after the death of my parents, and in an effort to compensate for all he knew I’d lost, he’d alienated me in many ways.


He’d also saved me, and I’d be eternally grateful.


Plus he paid the rent for my apartment. So when Idris trekked out from Boston on a weekday to have lunch, I better be ready and waiting. Even though I knew a surprise visit couldn’t mean anything good.


I took a deep breath and jumped out of bed. I didn’t have time for a shower. Idris and the patrons of whatever swank place he took me to would have to settle for the smelly version of me. I pulled on a pair of taupe dress slacks and a cream blouse and sprayed myself with a generous amount of Pear Blossom Body Spray before throwing
My long brown hair into a messy bun. I’d just located my keys and purse when my phone rang.


I pulled the door closed behind me and stepped toward the elevator as I answered.


“I’m outside your building,” Idris said.


“Hello to you, too.”  Never any small talk for Idris. I hit the elevator call button and waited.


“Whatever, sassafrass. We have reservations in fifteen minutes at The Peacock Alley. Are you ready?”


I rolled my eyes at his restaurant choice. How unoriginal of him to pick the Waldorf. “Already on my way down. You know, you could have used the apartment buzzer instead of calling.”


“But then you couldn’t walk and talk like you are.”


“And I’m about to lose you now as I get in the elevator. See you in a sec.” I wasn’t certain that the elevator would cause our call to drop, but I was facing a whole lunch
Hour with Idris. I needed the fifty-second reprieve.


“There she is,” Idris said to no one when I walked out of the front door of my apartment building. The apartment had been Idris’s pick since he was footing the bill, and I was sure that its proximity to the Waldorf had been half of the reason he’d chosen it. No one could mistake the place as classy, but the location was killer. My only gripe was the lack of a subway to the west side, but that only became a problem in bad weather.


“Hey, Idris,” I said throwing my arms around him. “It’s good to see you.”


“You too.” He pulled away and looked me up and down. “You look terrible, Bey. Like you need more sleep.”


“Gee, thanks.” We started toward the restaurant. “I didn’t get off work until five. Yeah, I’m a bit tired.”


“Isn’t it time you started working a more normal job? Something nine to five like?”
“I work nine to five. Just not the same nine to five you work.” As if Idris worked nine to five. He was a workaholic, often burning the midnight oil working on his latest case. If his paralegal hadn’t been his type, he never would have gotten married. The man had no social life. I’d be surprised to learn he had a sex life, even with a new wife.


“You know what I mean.”


We’d only been together five minutes and he was already picking. If that was an indicator of how lunch was going to go, I’d rather skip the meal and get right to whatever bug was up his ass. “What brings you out here, Idris?”


He studied me, deciding whether to show his cards yet or not. He chose not. “Can’t a brother come visit his only sister on a whim? I still feel bad for missing your graduation.”


I hid my eye roll. He could have made my graduation if he’d wanted to, and we both knew it. But we had to play the game
of happy family. “You’re a busy hotshot lawyer. I get it.”


“I sense the sarcasm in your voice, Bey.”


My brother excelled at reading people, making him a force to be reckoned with in the courtroom. “Okay, I was pissed you didn’t come. Does that make you happy?” Actually, I’d been hurt. He’d had the date for almost nine months. How could I not feel low priority? “I’m over it now, though, so forget it.”


We’d reached the hotel, which gave us the perfect chance to drop the subject. At the restaurant, we were seated right away, and I let the new environment transform me from outwardly brooding to introspective. 


I deliberated for a long time about my menu choice, annoying Idris who knew what he wanted instantly. When the tempo of his leg bouncing under the table accelerated, I settled on a house salad. God, the man had no patience. He should take a
Lesson from Shawn.


The thought of Shawn brought warmth to my body and a furrow to my brow. Something was poking at the edge of my thoughts, something I couldn’t quite grasp.


Idris chatted with me casually, keeping me from focusing on what perplexed me about Shawn.  He briefly told me about a case he was working on and about the renovations he and Monica had done to their brownstone.


When he’d finished a decent portion of his meal, about the same time I thought I’d shoot myself over the banality of our conversation, Idris cleared his throat. “Bey, I’m not here to catch up. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about our situation lately and have realized that you’re a grown woman with an excellent education. It’s time for you to assume more responsibility for yourself. I’m not doing you a favor by enabling you.”


I took a long swallow of my water, contemplating how to react to his sudden
Statement. Old connotations of the word “enable” stung me. Was he insinuating that I wasn’t well? And how was I not responsible for myself? I was living and working in the Big Apple—if that didn’t take responsibility, I didn’t know what did. 


Ever impatient, Idris didn’t wait for me to choose my response. “I can’t let you throw your life away at a nightclub. You are too vulnerable to work in that type of establishment.”


The Sky Launch. Idris had never liked me working there, not from day one. But he’d accepted it because I’d kept out of trouble. Had he now forgotten? “I haven’t had any issues since I’ve worked there.”


“You had school to keep you occupied. You need something more challenging to focus on.”


Never mind that I’d worried about the exact same thing myself, I was pissed. “Idris, I know how to handle my triggers. And what do you know about it? You never
Went to any support meetings.”


His voice rose uncomfortably high for the serene surroundings. “Because I’m not your parent!”


That was the crux of the whole conversation. Idris had been forced into parenting me and I’d always suspected he resented me for it. Now I knew for sure.


He stared at his near empty plate. When he spoke again it was quieter. “Look, Monica’s having a baby.”


And everything clicked into understanding. I was being replaced. “Congratulations.”


“I need to focus my energy and money on her and the baby. It’s time for you to be grown-up.” He straightened in his seat, as if to strengthen his position. “I’m not paying for the apartment anymore.”


“But I can’t afford to pay for the apartment! Not right now with my student loans about to be due.” I was painfully aware that I sounded petulant and spoiled, but I had always assumed he’d help me for
A while longer. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the money.


“Then maybe you better look for a better paying job.”


“Idris, that’s not fair.” 


“Think about everything I’ve been through with you and then talk to me about fair.”


He couldn’t have hurt me more with any other words. “I haven’t had any problems in a long time,” I whispered.


“You violated a restraining order.”


“Over four years ago!”


“I’m sorry, Bey. I can’t support you anymore.” His words were final. He’d made his decision; there would be no convincing him otherwise.


I saw what it had done to him, the years of caring for a mentally disturbed sibling. I’d known—I’d always known—but had never wanted to believe that my actions had hurt him so deeply. It stirred an old ache I had buried.
But I was also angry. I might not be fragile anymore, but I certainly wasn’t steady on my own. Not financially anyway. I needed his support now as much as ever and as shitty as it was, he was my only family. I had no one else.


I threw my napkin on the table and, not sure if I hoped to sound more sincere or snotty, said, “Thanks, Idris. Thanks for everything.” I grabbed my purse from the back of my chair and walked out of The Peacock Alley, careful not to look back. I wanted to appear strong and stoic. Turning back would give my brother a good look at my tears.


I let myself cry until I left the hotel. Once on the street, the city bustle and grit steeled me. I didn’t need Idris. I could do it on my own. Sure he’d helped me foot the bill since my crazy antics had ran through all of my inheritance money, but support and responsibility was much more than throwing cash around.


I hurried back to my apartment, aware that Idris didn’t try to stop me or call me. I spent the next hour behind my computer, figuring out my bills and expenses, searching for ways to make cuts. With a promotion at the club—which wasn’t guaranteed—I could pay for my apartment. But I wouldn’t be able to afford my student loans when they went into repayment the next month.
Idris had effectively trapped me. Not a bad strategy. The Bey from a day before would have to give into his wishes, taking a job at one of the high paying corporate offices that had pursued me at graduation.Fortunately, I had another option.Taking a deep breath, I picked up my cell phone and pushed redial. God, was I really doing this? I was. And if I was honest about it, I was glad for the excuse. Maybe I really should have been thanking Idris.
The number Shawn had called the night before rang only once before he answered. “Beyoncé.” His voice was smooth and sexy. Not sexy like he was coming on to
Me but like the sex he exuded naturally.


The confidence threw me. “Uh, hi, Shawn.”


I paused.


“Is there something I can help you with?” I sensed he enjoyed my uncertainty. Why couldn’t I display the same confidence he did? I never had anxiety issues at work or at school.


The thought of school jostled something and I blurted out the question that had niggled at me during lunch. “How did you know I was intelligent?”


I heard a creak and I pictured him leaning back in a leather chair behind an executive desk. “What do you mean?”


“You said I was…” I blushed, glad he couldn’t see me. “Beautiful and intelligent—“


He interrupted me. “Exquisitely beautiful and extremely intelligent.”


“Yeah, that.” Having heard them before made his words no less effective. The
Matter-of-fact manner of his statement should have felt clinical and cold, but they were anything but. A shiver ran up my spine. I cleared my throat. “But you’ve barely talked to me. How do you know anything about my intelligence?”


He paused only briefly. “The graduate symposium at Stern. I saw you present.”


“Oh.” The symposium had been held a month before graduation and had featured the top students from the MBA program. Each of us had presented a new or innovative idea for a panel of experts. My presentation had been called Print Marketing in a Digital Age. I hadn’t wanted to know who was on the panel, knowing that names would send me into obsessive researching and online stalking. Afterward, the experts and presenters were invited to a wine and cheese soiree, so that students could schmooze and corporate execs could make job offers. I’d presented for the experience. For the honor. I hadn’t wanted a job, so I’d skipped the after affair.
Now I wondered what would have happened if I’d gone. Would Shawn have tracked me down? Was it entirely coincidental that he’d made an offer on the club I worked for around the same time as the symposium?


“Is that the only reason you called, Beyoncé?” His all-business words held a hint of a tease.


“No.” I closed my eyes and clutched onto the side of my desk for support. Accepting his offer was harder than it should be. I couldn’t help but feel it was too easy of an out—like I was selling my soul to the devil.


But I also felt a surge of excitement, a thick electric wave of freedom. “Your proposition—I’d like to do it. I’m saying yes.” Remembering his other proposition to seduce me, I clarified. “Your offer to pay my student loans, I mean.”


His chair creaked again and I imagined him standing, his hand thrust in the pocket of an Italian suit. Ah, yum. “I’m very happy to hear that, Beyoncé.”
I shook the vision out of my head and waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, I said,
“So what happens now?”
“I have time in my schedule at four-thirty. Come to my office at Shawn Industries then and we’ll finalize the details.”
I’d get to see him in—I looked at my watch—two hours. My heart sped up.
“Sounds nice. I mean, good. Sounds good.”
He chuckled. “Goodbye, Beyoncé.”
“Bye.” I hugged the phone for several seconds after he hung up, mesmerized by this stranger’s effect on me, wondering if I’d be able to pull off the scam he’d concocted, hopeful I’d be able to thwart his promised advances.
All right, maybe I didn’t hope for that last one, but I wanted to believe I did. For my sanity’s sake.I also thought about the symposium, considering the possibility that Shawn
Carter had gone to greater lengths than he’d let on to set up this façade for his parents.


Maybe the thought should have scared me. But it only intrigued me more.