Always Wrong - Xyla Turner

Chapter One

One night is what Jacquez asked for over the phone those months ago.

One gotdamn night.

He’d baited me.

“Ahh, I see. All talk, no play? Scared I’ll fuck that snark right out of you? Contact Noah when you’re ready for that. ‘Til then, bye, babe” were his parting words over the phone.

Me and my fucking mouth. Talking all types of shit and baiting this man, like I always do. But I take none of them seriously. Ever. I get it in, don’t get me wrong, but they are just fuck boys. Never anything serious. Do not ask me why Ja-fucking-quez was the one that kept ringing in my head as his slightly London accent was on repeat. He wasn’t from there, because he definitely had a mix of that New York, filthy accent on the edge of some of his syllables.

His words replayed in my head, over and over, so when I received the email correspondence, I immediately responded.

Dearest Sheryl,

Owner of two jets, talker of much shit. Give me a time and place. I’ll be in Philadelphia next week and just so you know, I’m not taking no for an answer. You tell me where we are meeting, or I find you.

I hope you can back up your shit. I know I can.

J

Oh, this motherfucker.

Immediately I replied.

Jacquez,

Owner of one jet. Shit talker of one mouth.

Wednesday, 7:00 PM at the W. I’ll be under the name South.

SS.

Yes, I just did that. Hell, I just made a date with the man that’s been running me ragged and only in my head. A yellow flag went up in the back of my consciousness. This was different. He did not fit my normal modus operandi. I had not seen him at a red-carpet event but yet, he wanted to know if my dark nipples would pucker for his lips or his teeth. Of course, me being the woman that I am, told him there was only one way to find out. He learned they puckered for his teeth and not those pillows he calls lips.

Long ago, I threw modesty out the window. These men walked around here fucking everything moving, and they always received some sort of badge. Not us women…we fuck three people in the same office, and we’re labeled a whore. I, personally, no longer gave a fuck what people called me. One day, I overheard some locker room shit, but the assholes were in the staff lounge. My staff lounge, to be exact.

“I heard South goes south,” one guy said.

“I heard she makes her men go south on her,” another chimed in.

“Both,” a different guy confirmed whose voice was deeper and slightly familiar.

“Holy fuck, man,” the first one chimed in, but I barely recognized his voice. “You’ve been with South?”

He must have nodded, because the bitch-ass men gasped, like this was something in an afterschool special.

“Fuck, is she as good as I’ve heard?” This was one of the other male voices.

“Let’s just say if I could get seconds, I would,” the man told them. “She doesn’t go back for seconds, but she can move her ass…”

Well, I’d had enough of eavesdropping, so I pushed the door open, eyed the men, and said in that classic black woman voice with the crack at each syllable. “I can also suck a mean dick. Now get back to fucking work.”

Man, I think if any of them would have stayed a minute longer, I would have seen a puddle of water because they pissed on themselves. Bugged-out eyes and shocked faces met me, but they all scrambled quicker than quick.

I recognized the guy I’d slept with, which I rarely did at the workplace, but I employed thousands of people. Almost five hundred at this downtown location for my shipping company, and as much as I don’t like to shit where I eat, it can be hard when you’re the employer for so many people. Thinking back, we hooked up after a happy hour where he’d kept those eyes on my revealing cleavage. That was my signature; my philosophy was since I had those babies, I would show them off. It drove my colleagues crazy, but I also didn’t give a fuck about what anyone thought. All my dresses were V-neck, and all of my pants fit my ass. It was clearly evident that I did not ever wear panties.

I wore nothing but thongs, bitches!

Coming back to the situation that started it all. Setting up a time and place to meet with the Italian man, who lived in

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