Trouble: 2
adrienne
I didn't know what to do. Never in my four years of being a married woman have I ever looked at another man. Better yet, never have I ever in my four years of being a married women even had dreams of another man. Wet dreams, at that. I cursed myself as I watched the feminine wipe disappear down the toilet. Thank god that Trey was gone before I woke up a few minutes ago. I was moaning in my sleep and that shit wasn't cute. How the fuck was I moaning and I ain't even know this niggas name? He was just a fine ass nigga that happened to be on my pay roll, that's it.
"Get it together, bitch." This was the second dream that I was having about the mystery man; and it didn't make things any better that I had to go down to the beach house today to pick out the colors for the rooms. Even though this beach house was only going to be used for the summers and maybe some holidays-- I was still putting my all into the renovation. My name was attached to this house so of course it had to live up to the Adrienne Hasting standard. I took a bit longer in the shower than I usually would; I was highkey stalling from driving out to Malibu.
The ringing of my cellphone startled me. Clenching my towel closer to my body, I quickly walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. "Wassup, hubby?" I put the phone on speaker as I quickly dried my body with the plush towel. "Where are you right now, babe?"
"I'm at the house. I just got out the shower so--"
"It's almost eleven o' clock, Adrienne. What happened to you being down at the beach house by ten to meet with the paint crew?" I scrunched up my face. Why did it sound like he had an attitude right now? Shit, if anybody deserved to have an attitude it ought to be me. I was the only one who seemed to give a fuck about this beach house. "Trey I'm getting ready to go down there right now. Why you clocking me? It's not like you're the one whose waiting on me at the beach house. Matter fact, will you be meeting me down there? I really want you to see how much effort the contractors--"
"I don't got time to drive into Malibu. That's why I'm sending you."
"Sending me? You know what, goodbye. " I smacked my lips before ending the call. I wasn't in the mood to hear Trey tell me what I should and should not be doing. Looking down at my wedding ring I questioned if I was really his wife or his fucking assistant.
You could say that I was in a funk as I pulled up to the beach house. I rolled my eyes at the sight of his name flashing across my phone screen. Ignoring the call for the umpteenth time, I tossed my phone into my Givenchy purse before exiting my truck. It's crazy how Trey could call me down and be an annoyance; but his ass would never take the thirty minute drive into Malibu to speak to me in person. Husband of the year, for real.
"Mrs. Hasting, how are you? I am Mike Conaway. We spoke on the phone a few days ago." I nodded as I walked ahead of him. I wasn't in the best of moods and all I wanted to do was select the color schemes for each room, and then drive my ass to Chipotle right after. Walking straight into the house I let out a loud ass sigh. "Aww, shit. We got central air up in this bih!" I closed my eyes as the cool breeze removed the sweat from my tanned skin.
"You good?" My eyes quickly opened once I heard the unfamiliar voice. I knew Kevin's high pitched voice and this was not it. I was face to face with the mystery man that has been intruding my dreams for the last two days. "I'm fine... what's your name by the way? I didn't get it the last time."
"That's cause you ain't care to know it the last time. But I got you, it's JP." One of my brows arched. Who was he speaking to? Before I could even send a remark his way, a voice from the upstairs portion of the house was calling for 'JP'. I watched as he jogged up the staircase and as much as I didn't want to stare... I didn't remove my eyes from the staircase until I could no longer see any parts of his body. Shaking my head, I turned on my heels and walked straight into the living room. I needed to get this shit done and get out of here.
Luckily there was a Chipotle less than ten minutes away from the beach house. It was located inside of this mini mall and I was lowkey pissed because the line was long as shit and it wasn't even one yet. Greedy ass people, yo. My foot tapped impatiently on the line as I waited behind this family of four. I was gonna be waiting for a minute, I could already tell. "You always got that mean ass mug on yo face?" I jumped in my stance because the person was speaking directly into my ear. I quickly snapped my neck to the right and was surprised at who I came face to face with. Yet again.
"Are you stalking me or something?" My arms folded across my chest as I looked him up and down. Even Stevie Wonder could see that this nigga was fine. All types of fine, shit. "Never that, ma. I can't be hungry too?" When he flashed his pearly whites the mug on my face vanished. He had a pretty ass smile too... wow. "Who you calling, ma? My name is Mrs. Hasting." I quickly regained composure as I sized him up once more. Typical hood nigga. Even though he was dressed in clothing to covered up majority of his body, I could still see the tattoos peeking from underneath his sleeves.
"I know what your name is. Move up though, you next." I watched as his eyes roamed my body before I rolled my own eyes, and walked up in line. I quickly order my burrito bowl and drink, and paid for my meal before scanning the establishment for a seat. It was packed as a bitch in here. "They got seats upstairs, come on." I looked over my shoulder just in time to see him grabbing a bottle of hot sauce from a random table. He ain't even ask the group of teenage girls if they was using that shit. Shaking my head at his actions, my feet still carried me over to the staircase that led to the second floor of the Chipotle restaurant.
He was seated at a round table and motioned for me to take the vacant seat in front of him. I scanned the area a few times just to make sure that there weren't any other openings before I sighed and carried my ass over to where he sat. "Why you was acting like you wasn't going to sit with me? You already followed me upstairs so you might as well--"
"Ain't nobody followed you upstairs. I was already coming up here." I lied as I dug my fork into my bowl. He chuckled before doing the same. I watched as he went ham on the burrito bowl in front of him. Grabbing the hot sauce bottle from his loose hold, I poured a whole bunch over my bowl. "I ain't carry that hot sauce up here for you, Mrs. Hasting." I looked over at him after he called me by my last name. For some reason it sounded like he was mocking me when he said it. "Tell me this, how old are you?" Passing him back the hot sauce, I slanted my eyes at him.
"And why do you want to know that? Why is it any of your concern, Mr. JP. Is that even your real name?"
"Man, how old are you?" I didn't want to smirk, but the irritation laced in his voice was sexy as fuck. If I wasn't mistaken it sounded like he had a lil country accent. "I'm twenty five. Why?"
"No specific reason. Ever since you came down to the beach house on Monday I've been trying to figure out how old you were. You look too young to be married." I've heard that before. Mostly from my parents who didn't like Trey and his family. "And how old are you?"
"I'm twenty-four." For some odd reason he decided to lick over his lips after he said that. Clearing my throat, I looked down at my food in front of me. "You happy in your marriage, Mrs. Hasting?" My head snapped up. "And who the fuck are you to ask me a question like that? Last time I checked, you work for me." I don't know why I snapped at him like that, but I did. To my surprised he laughed. Laughed right in my face like I was Kevin Hart or some shit. "Aight, you got it. Ima take this to go and not overstep my boundaries no more. I ain't tryna lose this good paying job with them benefits." He had remnants of a smile on his face as he placed the lid over his burrito bowl. "My lunch break almost up anyways. You have a good day, Mrs. Hasting."
