Double Dippin': Misty Part 22

"Anything."

"Call the front desk and ask them to send someone up to carry these heavy bags for me," Misty requested.

Backus eagerly picked up the phone and in a commanding voice, he demanded that a bellhop be sent to his suite.

Squeezing anti-bacterial sanitizer into her palm, Misty grimaced as she rubbed her hands together. Ew! I can't believe I had to touch that nasty m.u.t.h.af.u.c.ka, again. Her grimace turned into a smile when she saw the hot dude who came to collect her bags.

Outside the hotel, her driver promptly jumped out the vehicle and relieved the bellhop of the bags that he put inside the trunk. Misty penned her phone number on a fifty-dollar bill and tipped the boyishly handsome bellhop.

"Thanks a lot," the young man said with a big smile.

Misty looked him over; he was medium height and strongly built. Seemed like the type who was eager to please in bed. "There's more where that came from," Misty told the bellhop, imagining their naked bodies entwined.

Being chauffeured around was a great inconvenience, but with all her outward bravado, Misty couldn't bring herself to get behind the wheel of a car. The night she was nearly killed was still fresh in her mind, and though she knew it was irrational, she, nevertheless, had an overwhelming fear of being attacked again while driving.

With her cash flow piling up like crazy, she needed to get the money out of her hotel room and into a safe place. She came up with the idea to rent a storage unit to stockpile her cash. Trouble was, she couldn't drive herself and didn't trust a hired driver to help her unload her fortune. The only person in the world whom she truly trusted was Brick. And he wasn't speaking to her, but it was time for him to put aside their differences and stop being so d.a.m.n petty.

The easiest way to get to Brick was through his son, and with that in mind, Misty called him and began the conversation by saying, "I realize you've been putting away money for Little Baron's college fund, but did you know that a good private school is often more expensive than college?"

"What do you want, Misty?" Brick said in a weary tone.

"Hear me out, okay?"

Brick grunted a response.

"With the pitiful state of the public school system, I know you don't want your son attending a neighborhood school and receiving an inferior education."

"Stop with the sales pitch; what's on your mind?" Brick said impatiently.

"Well, I was thinking about how my little brother is only being stimulated by my boring mother. She probably has him sitting next to her, eating a bunch of snacks while watching hours of idiotic daytime TV shows. If you leave it up to my mother to plan his future, he's going to end up being dumb as a box of rocks."

"Whoa. You're talking about my son, Misty."

"He's my brother; don't you think I care about his well-being? What you need to do is start his education process as early as possible. My mother was too old to be having a child in the first place, and with you only seeing him every now and then, she's the parent who's having the strongest influence on him. Umph, and that's a shame being that she's out of touch with modern times. He needs more youthful and more sophisticated influences in his life. I'm telling you, the only thing my mother has to offer him is food. She's gonna turn him into a chubby, little mama's boy-mark my words, Brick."

Brick became uncomfortably quiet, and Misty a.s.sumed she'd given him food for thought. She continued, "I read that what happens between birth and the age of seven defines a child's future. Little Baron should not be sitting up under my mother all day long without interacting with other kids. It's not healthy-some would consider it as a form of child abuse."

"All right, you're exaggerating and taking s.h.i.+t too far now."

"You won't think I'm exaggerating in years to come when your son identifies as a middle-aged female instead of a young boy. If you don't stop him from spending so much time with my mother, he's gonna end up like the son of that famous sports figure...you know that boy who's always on TMZ, prancing around, thicker than a snicker, carrying an oversized pocketbook, and wearing boa feathers draped around his neck."

"I'm not h.o.m.ophobic," Brick said.

"Me either, but why allow a kid to go in that direction if he doesn't have to?"

Brick went silent again and Misty knew she was getting to him. "You would be getting Little Baron off to a good start if you sent him to an exclusive preschool where he can interact with smart kids, play sports, and be educated by savvy teachers. I hope you know that many of the Philly public schools no longer have any extracurricular activities. So, let's get my brother enrolled in a good preschool; I'll be happy to pay for it."

"What's the catch?"

"Well, I have this problem with driving. Since my tragedy, I have this phobia about driving."

"You already have a driver."

"I need you to drive me on special drops."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I don't trust anyone but you to escort me to the storage unit where I'm going to stash my money."

"You're gonna put all that money in a storage unit? That doesn't seem wise at all."

"As long as I pay the storage bill, my money will be safer than it is in a bank."

"Whatever. It's your dough; you can do what you want with it. When do you want to make that move?"

"Tonight."

"Nah, that's not gonna work. I'm about to go to bed. I have to be at the job early in the morning. We're gonna have to handle that storage business a few days from now."

"Okay, well, I'm in the limo, about ten minutes from your crib. Is it okay if I drop the dough off...leave it with you for safekeeping?"

"Yeah, that's cool. Call me when you get here and I'll come out and get it."

"One more thing, Brick."

"What's that?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm sorry about busting in on you and that gutter s.l.u.t, and for going off on the trifling b.i.t.c.h."

Brick chuckled. "d.a.m.n, you called her a gutter s.l.u.t; why she gotta be all that?"

"That's what she looked like to me," Misty said sullenly.

"Listen, Misty, I'm not holding a grudge, but you need to accept that there's nothing between us anymore. You have to stop being all up in your feelings. You hear what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I hear you, Brick. From now on, I'm gonna focus on making money. Can I count on you to be my bodyguard, again? Say yes, please. n.o.body's gonna protect me the way you will, Brick. I trust you with my money and my life, and you know that's the truth." She knew she could persuade him by talking about needing his protection.

"Sure, I'll work for you again, as long as it doesn't interfere with my day job."

"Why do you want to keep busting your a.s.s doing hard labor when I can pay you so much more than you'll ever make on a job?"

"I don't mind hard work. Besides, I don't want to be sneaking around piling up money in a storage unit in order to keep Uncle Sam off my a.s.s."

"Touche," Misty said with a chuckle. "I'll see you soon."

Thrilled that she and Brick were back on speaking terms, Misty hung up. Brick had always been weak, and he wouldn't be able to resist her much longer. It was only a matter of time before she had Brick between her legs and working up a sweat as he strived to please her. But their steamy reunion would have to take place at her hotel. There was no way she would get in their old bed that had been tainted when he had s.e.x with that gutter s.l.u.t.

Brick wasn't going to like being in rotation with David and possibly other lovers, but until he proved his love and devotion, she would hold on to her side pieces. And Brick had a lot of proving to do. At this point, he hadn't even bothered to ask Misty which hotel she was staying in. If she didn't know better, it would be easy to believe Brick had another b.i.t.c.h on his mind.

But that couldn't possibly be true. There wasn't a woman on the planet that could compare to Misty. One way or another, she'd get Brick to her hotel. If things went the way she wanted, Brick would become so addicted to the coochie, he'd pack his bags and move in with her at the Omni.

CHAPTER 34.

To Misty's amazement, she received a call from a man named Jacob Mendelsohn. He claimed to be a close friend of Jeffrey Backus and said he was interested in a healing session for his wife. He said he was currently in Mexico, where his wife was receiving alternative treatment for ovarian cancer.

"No amount of money is too much. I'll pay anything for you to cure my wife."

Misty didn't speak for a moment. Cancer was something she couldn't see, and she wasn't sure if she could heal the man's wife. "I don't know. I'm not sure," she said haltingly.

"I have plenty of money. Name your price," he said desperately.

"I don't conduct business in this manner. There's a procedure you're supposed to follow."

"Jeffrey didn't mention anything about a procedure. When he told me about his cure, I begged him for your number. What's the procedure-do you require money in advance?"

"Jeffrey Backus should have called me on your behalf. I don't know you and I don't like the idea of strangers having my number and calling me any hour of the night."

"I apologize for the late hour. I'm calling on behalf of my wife, Catherine. She's very ill and isn't responding to treatment. I'm desperately trying to help her, and I meant no disrespect when I took the liberty of calling you."

"Mr. Mendelsohn, I'm-"

"Call me Jacob, please."

Rich folks sure knew how to be humble when they wanted something from you, Misty concluded. Jacob Mendelsohn was playing nice, but he was probably a real b.a.s.t.a.r.d in the business world.

"Jacob," she said wearily. "I'm not sure if I can cure cancer. I don't want to get your hopes up."

"Would you at least try?" he asked, sounding choked up.

"I don't want to waste your time or mine."

"I'll pay you two million in cash if you'd fly to Mexico and lay hands on my wife. No strings attached. If it doesn't work..." His voice cracked. "At least we tried, right, Misty?"

"I'll need four million, plus a private jet. Not a chartered, economy plane, please. I like to be well rested and comfortable when I travel."

"Not a problem. When can you get here?"

"Hmm." She considered Brick's work schedule and said, "How about Sat.u.r.day?"

"That's four days from now. Can't you make it sooner?"

"No, that's the best I can do. Now, take down this number and call my a.s.sistant to work out all the details. His name is Gavin Stallings. Nice talking to you, Jacob," Misty said and hung up.

She was a bad-a.s.s chick. Billionaire m.u.t.h.af.u.c.kas were begging to fly her to exotic locations, yet Brick treated her like she wasn't s.h.i.+t. That man had a h.e.l.l of a lot of nerve, but she had no doubt that the day would come when he would come to his senses and recognize her worth.

Thankfully, there were quite a few people who recognized her worth, and her friend, David, was one of them. Before the Mendelsohn dude had interrupted her, she'd been primping in the mirror and getting ready for a threesome with David and his wife.

She'd applied lip gloss and spritzed herself with perfume when the front desk called, announcing her guests.

The first thing that struck her about David's wife was her homeliness. What the h.e.l.l was an unattractive chick like her doing cheating on her husband and stressing him out? b.i.t.c.h should have been glad she had a man who went to work and paid the bills. And what was David's problem? Why had he been so distraught over this fugly, cheating heifer?

She and David had agreed to dupe his wife into thinking they were partic.i.p.ating in a couple's therapy session. He'd told her that Misty was a s.e.x therapist who could fix their relations.h.i.+p.

"Misty, uh, I mean, Ms. Delagardo, this is my wife, Tamia," David said.

"Hi, Tamia. I've heard David's version of what went wrong in your relations.h.i.+p, but as we all know, there're two sides to every story...so what do you have to say about the breakdown in your marriage?" d.a.m.n, I'm good. I sound like an authentic therapist!

"You don't look like a therapist," Tamia said, giving Misty the side eye.

Misty was dressed in a black tank top, skintight black jeans with rips on the thighs, and black, stiletto-heeled, ankle boots. Black was Misty's color, and she looked shockingly beautiful, especially compared to dog-faced Tamia.

"Do you want me to help repair your relations.h.i.+p or do you want to throw slurs at me?" Misty frowned at Tamia. The woman had a bad att.i.tude, and didn't seem to be the least bit contrite. If David didn't know how to put this ho in her place, Misty sure knew how, and she was eager to get the therapy session started.

"Answer her question, Tamia," David prompted gruffly. "She's trying to help us and you're giving her att.i.tude."

Tamia folded her arms across her chest defiantly. "This is stupid. I don't even want to be here. I never heard of a therapy session late at night in a hotel."

"The work I do is unconventional, and it won't be successful if only one partner is willing to partic.i.p.ate, so feel free to leave," Misty said, waving a hand dismissively.

"That's fine with me." Tamia picked up her purse and stood. "Let's go, David. We can find a certified marriage counselor with an office; someone who has daytime hours."

"Excuse me, Miss Thang, you can leave all you want, but David isn't going anywhere-are you, baby?" Misty turned her attention to David, who seemed to melt when Misty smiled at him.

David drew closer to Misty and put his arm around her. "I'm not going anywhere with her." He gazed at his wife scornfully.

Tamia looked dumbfounded. "You have to give me a ride home, David. I don't know what's going on here, but you need to take your arm from around that b.i.t.c.h, and let's go," Tamia said in a voice that quavered.

"I'm sorry, Tamia, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Clearly, your husband wants my s.e.x therapy, and since you don't want to take part in trying to heal your relations.h.i.+p, you need to understand that you're interfering with the process, and it's time for you to go."

"I love the way you handle s.h.i.+t, baby," David whispered in Misty's ear, now wrapping both arms around her possessively.

"David, get your hands off that b.i.t.c.h," Tamia bellowed, tromping toward them.

"Back up, b.i.t.c.h," Misty warned. "If you even think about putting a hand on me, David will beat the s.h.i.+t out of you, and after that, you'll find yourself under the jail after my team of lawyers get through with you."

Taking heed, Tamia stopped in her tracks.