“I’m good right now. Thank you, Matt. Thanks for the ride.”
“Of course Ms. Sweet. Closet, bathroom, terrace.” He pointed as he spoke. He gave me a slight grin and walked out the door closing it behind him.
I ventured around the room. I tried to breathe. This was all new to me and I hoped it went well. I felt a little out of my element. This wasn’t my day-to-day lifestyle but I was going to just embrace it. There was a lot of pressure on Jagger with this new album. He practically wrote all the songs, he produced half of them and he sang lead on the majority of them. He had to fight to get some of the songs on the London State of Mind album.
Within minutes Jagger arrived. He was wearing shiny brown leather-look pants, and a thin ripped tan sweater. He was wearing translucent silver boots. He had a few rings on his fingers, a gold chain rope bracelet on his wrist and designer sunglasses. He even had a tiny gold hoop earring in his ear. His hair was perfectly coiffed into something that looked like the late Elvis Presley would wear. He almost looked like a stranger but his swag was there. I recognized his Jagger swagger. He didn’t look any of the boy band members of my day. He looked like a rock star.
“Babe.” He removed his sunglasses. His eyes instantly shut down all my apprehension.
He strutted over to me. His long toned arms embraced me. He held me so tight he could break me. Baby, baby, baby, I wanted to be broken. He greeted me like that guy wearing Levi’s and a concert tee. Not the guy wearing— if I took a guess, three thousand dollars worth of clothes.
Sex, there was a lot of sex. So much sex that I didn’t have the energy to go out to dinner with his tribe. I mustered up some hidden oomph and got showered and dressed.
Jagger let my shower first. I was the one that needed more time so I appreciated it. I had a little red dress that showed off my curves and didn’t make my breasts look droopy. I can honestly say I looked like a whole snack. I hadn’t completely sweated my curls out but I did need some edge control. I didn’t put a full face of makeup on. I used some powder, some liner, and mascara and for the red dress and went with a bold red matte lip. I stepped into my red Louboutin pumps, a random gift from Jagger. I was used to getting unplanned deliveries to my house from him. He would see something and get Matt to send it to me. At less that’s what Matt told me.
There was a knock on the bedroom door that I very softly heard. I went to the door and opened it. Winston a member of Toxic Shock was standing there. He was an attractive young man. He looked better in person than in pictures. Weird because Jagger told me almost all the pictures were airbrushed.
“So you’re the woman that stole my best mates heart.”
“I’m Katrina.” I don’t steal but whatever.
“I’m Winston.” He kind of rolled his eyes at me. Winston edged past me and into the bedroom without my consent. “Where’s Jag?”
“In the shower.”
He analyzed me with his light brown, maybe hazel eyes.
“You know, he refused to show me a pic of you.”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“I wonder why he never mentioned you were Black? He just said you were American.”
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask him.”
“Well, you’re a looker, so I get it.”
I couldn’t tell if he was complimenting me or insulting me. Maybe he was doing both. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this young man. Winston was Black and British but he was no Idris Iba. He was pretty instead of handsome and he still looked like a teenager.
“I’m not trying to be an asshole but Jagger is fragile. I don’t want anyone coming into the circle and breaking his heart. He doesn’t deserve it. He’s already been through a lot. He’s really a nice guy. Sometimes to fucking nice and charitable.” He scrunched up his nose.
“I agree Jagger is a nice guy.”
“The bloke claims to love you.”
I titled my head. “Well, I claim to love him too.”
His brow furrowed. “You don’t look that old.”
Jesus, Joseph, and Mary Tyler Moore. That song that goes, ‘you must don’t know bout me. You must don’t know bout me’, played in my mind.
I was about to square off with this British brother. I know Brits can come across as rude but he must not know bout me. He must not know how old I am. I will punch his little ass in the face, take my belt off, put him over my knee and spank his rude ass with a wire hanger. Don’t do me, brother. I am not the one.
I glared at him liked he reeked of hot garbage.
“I guess I will just see him at dinner.” He trotted his obnoxious ass out the door. I slowly closed the door when I wanted to slam it. Father God, I cannot with Winston. Jesus take the wheel, the transmission, the spark plugs, the muffler, take the whole damn car Jesus. Here’s the title and registration.
The audacity, the nerve, and unmitigated gall.
Chapter 26
KATRINA
This is it. I was going to meet Jagger’s musical family. My guy was dressed in designer black jeans and a Baroque print silk sport shirt. He had a small gold cross around his neck, his tiny hoop earring and a single ring
