Zane's the Heat Seekers Read online

  “Dang, can a sistah take a leak in peace around here?” Tempest heard Janessa pull her jeans down and plop down on the toilet seat. “Why is Geren all up in my beeswax anyway? Tell him to get a life! For that matter, you need to get one, too, heifer!”

  Tempest laughed off the heifer comment. “Whatever, tramp!” She could hear Janessa let out a slight giggle from the other side of the door. “Just know that I love your crazy ass and don’t want to see you get hurt. If Dvontè is trying to run a game on you, his ass will have to deal with my wrath before it’s all over and said and done. They don’t call me Tempest for nothing!”

  The toilet flushed and the faucet started running. A moment later, Janessa came out of the bathroom. “For your information, nosy ass, Dvontè and I do go out places. However, Dvontè doesn’t make a grip like Geren, so we have to stay within a budget.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Tempest said, leaning against the hallway wall. “Even a dog deserves a walk. This is Washington, D.C. The nation’s mofo capitol. There are tons of free things to do around here. Especially on the weekends. You need to set him straight from jump, or he’ll let his current behavior dictate the rest of your relationship.”

  Janessa pouted. “I will agree with you to a certain extent, but I still can’t believe the nerve of Geren. Who does he think he is, telling you all my business? If he tells it all, what the hell am I going to have left to tell you? That’s what being best friends is all about. Spilling the beans.”

  “I agree,” Tempest said, throwing her arms around Janessa and kissing her on the cheek. “Now, let’s kiss and make up.”

  Janessa laughed, glancing down at her watch. “Dang, we still have the whole day left before I have to meet Shae. What are we going to do?”

  “I have a great idea.” Tempest headed toward the kitchen. “Why don’t we make some Rice Krispies treats and cherry Kool-Aid? We can spend the rest of the afternoon doing each other’s hair in some fucked-da-hell-up hairstyles.”

  Janessa nodded in excitement. “Sounds good, but you have to promise to put at least two cups of sugar in the pitcher of Kool-Aid,” she said jokingly. “I bet you have some Mason jars we can drink it out of, too. If you have that grease can on the stove, I know your ghetto ass has some Mason jars hiding around here someplace.”

  Tempest fell out laughing. “I damn sure do. My mother gave them to me when I moved in.”

  Janessa smirked. “I tell you what. You make the Rice Krispies treats while I make the Kool-Aid. I don’t trust your ass. You might try to skimp on the sugar.”

  “You’re a trip.” Tempest slapped her gently on the arm. “I don’t know about you doing my hair with those long-ass nails. You might draw blood on a sistah.”

  “No, I won’t,” Janessa said, obviously offended. She reached for the glass pitcher on top of the refrigerator and started searching for the packets of Kool-Aid. “You remember that time, when we were about ten, when I put your hair into that waterfall hairdo?”

  “Yeah, that style was fucked-da-hell-up and then some.” Tempest chuckled, remembering the way it looked like it was yesterday. “My poor mother came home from work and thought some crackhead had broken into the house. She didn’t even recognize me. I had to show her the birthmark on my right shoulder so she wouldn’t call 5-0 on a sistah.”

  They both fell out laughing. “Those were the good old days,” Janessa added. “Why can’t things be as much fun now?”

  “They can be,” Tempest interjected. “We just have to live our lives to the fullest while we still have lives to live.”

  “Amen to that, gurl. Let’s start by throwing down on some of these goodies. Make sure you don’t put the mixture on the wax paper while it’s still hot. Last time, we had to pull the Rice Krispies treats off the wax paper with forks.”

  “Yeah, but those bad boys were good,” Tempest objected. “You just make sure one of those witch fingernails doesn’t fall off in the Kool-Aid while you’re stirring. I don’t want to choke up in here.”

  Janessa held up her middle finger. “The better to say fuck you with, my dear.”

  CHAPTER 14

  reciprocity

  “hang on for a second, Trisha.” Dvontè tossed the phone on his love seat and went to look out the peephole, wondering who would be bold enough to knock on his door unannounced. He knew it wasn’t Geren. Geren had phoned earlier to say he was taking Tempest out of town for the weekend.

  Dvontè cursed under his breath when he realized it was Janessa. She was really becoming a nuisance.

  He went back to his living room and picked up the phone. “Umm, Trisha, let me call you back in a few.”

  “I thought you were coming through tonight?” Trisha asked seductively. Dvontè got an automatic hard-on, thinking about drowning his face in her 42DDD tits. “I bought a new bra and a thong today from Body and Soul over in Prince George’s Plaza. I want to get your opinion.”

  “Oh, I will be there with bells on, beautiful,” he replied excitedly. “You can bank on that. Just make sure you have the handcuffs and whipped cream ready. We have some unfinished business from last week.”

  Janessa started banging on the door again and calling out his name. He was hoping like all hell Trisha wouldn’t hear her and start asking a bunch of questions. He wasn’t even trying to get cold busted before he could crawl up between Trisha’s creamy thighs again.

  “Okay, baby, I’ll have everything waiting for you,” she cooed. “Just hurry up. My pussy is throbbing, and I want to give you a tongue bath.”

  That did it! “Never mind me calling you back,” he whispered into the phone, licking his lips in anticipation and scoping his watch. “I’ll be there in exactly one hour. Later!”

  He hung the phone up just as Janessa started abusing his door for the third time. “Dvontè, I know you’re in there!” she yelled. “I can hear you moving around.”

  “I’m coming!” he snapped back, headed toward the door. It became painfully clear it was time for his ten-minute overstepping-the-homie-lover-friend-boundary chat.

  Dvontè yanked the door open, not even trying to fake the funk. He was highly upset and wanted her to know it.

  “Janessa, what are you doing here? Did we have plans for tonight? If so, I completely forgot.”

  “No, we didn’t have plans, Dvontè,” she replied in a mousy voice. Damn right, we didn’t have plans, he thought to himself. I have a set of 42DDD breastesses, a can of whipped cream, and a pair of handcuffs waiting on my ass across town. “I decided to surprise you.” She flung her arms open, flashing him her radiant smile. “So surprise!”

  He tried to force a grin but only managed to conjure up a smirk. She bent down and picked up a few plastic grocery bags from the carpeted corridor, practically knocking him down to get inside his crib.

  “Can you grab my overnight bag for me, baby?” Janessa was headed toward the kitchen with the groceries, making herself at home like Florida Evans from Good Times. Dvontè couldn’t help but notice she looked damn sexy. She was wearing a skintight black hoochie dress that didn’t leave an inch of thought to the imagination.

  Overnight bag! What da hell? He looked out in the hall, and Janessa wasn’t fronting on the overnight bag. It was more like an overmonth bag. He picked up the black duffel and calculated that it weighed every bit of fifty pounds.

  “Damn, what do you have in here?” Dvontè asked sarcastically. “You planning on moving in or something?”

  Janessa pulled the bag away from him, walked into the living room, and set it on the sofa. She grabbed the collar of his white Armani dress shirt, a definite no-no in his book, and kissed him on the lips. “Only if you want me to.”

  Dvontè was speechless. Things were getting way out of hand. “Janessa, we need to talk,” he declared, sitting down on the love seat and positioning her on his lap. He didn’t want to be too cold about it. After all, she was fine as all hell. “I think you got the wrong impression about things somewhere along the way.”

  �
�I was kidding about moving in, dufus.” She giggled, rubbing her long fingernails through his curly brown hair. “The reason the bag is so heavy is because I have several surprises in there for you.”

  “Aren’t you just full of surprises tonight.” Dvontè glanced at his watch and felt a panic attack coming on. He had a booty call to make, and things weren’t looking too good. “What type of surprises?”

  “You’ll just have to wait and see, but I will tell you this. You’re going to enjoy every single one of them.” Janessa started gyrating her ass on his lap, reaching her hand between her own legs to caress his dick. “I see your dick is already hard. That’s a good thing.”

  Damn, what was a brotha to do! Even though Dvontè wanted to bone Trisha in the worst way, Janessa had this habit of turning him on like no other. He decided that his ten-minute overstepping-the-homie-lover-friend-boundary chat could wait one more day. As for Trisha, he knew she would be mad if he didn’t show, but that was guaranteed pussy. Bottom line: she wasn’t going to refuse him whenever he did go over there for some ass.

  “So, what’s in the grocery bags?” Dvontè asked her. “Can you at least tell me that, or is that top-secret info too?”

  “Well—” she chuckled. “You’re always talking about how you miss your grandmother’s pepper steak.”

  “Yeah, I can’t wait to go to Mississippi for Thanksgiving so I can throw down.”

  She teased him with her bedroom eyes. “Thanksgiving is more than a month away, so I decided to make some for you tonight. I looked up the recipe in a cookbook and got all the ingredients.”

  “How did you get over here anyway?”

  “I caught a cab.” She slipped him the tongue and then yanked it away just as he was about to slobber her ass down. She was such a tease, but he loved to be teased on occasion. “I hope you’re not upset with me for coming by without calling.”

  “No, not at all.” Dvontè lied. He was waiting for the lightning to strike. Instead, the phone rang. He knew it was Trisha. No way was he picking up.

  Janessa looked at Dvontè strangely when he ignored the phone. He opted to let the answering machine pick up in the bedroom. She knew what was up. “Aren’t you going to get that?”

  “Nope, not at all. Who needs distractions?” Dvontè pulled Janessa’s head down to his and drew her succulent bottom lip into his mouth. “Before you start cooking, how about we go into my bedroom?”

  “Umm, sounds yummy, but let me get something out of my bag first.” She jumped up from his lap and unzipped the bag, standing with her back to him so he couldn’t see what she was getting out. “Ta-dah!” she exclaimed, revealing an 8mm camcorder. “Still have that fantasy about making a movie?”

  Dvontè’s dick expanded three more inches in his pants. “Damn right I do!” He stood up and put his arms around her waist. “You would do that for me?”

  She looked him dead in the eyes and replied, “I would do anything for you.”

  Something ran through Dvontè right at that moment. He wasn’t sure what the hell it was, but it scared the living daylights out of him. No woman had ever said that to him before. They had said a lot of things, ranging from “Cum all over my tits” to “Make it bounce, daddy,” but never that. For a brief moment, Dvontè thought Geren might have been right about him settling down. It was a fleeting moment. Once it was over, he just wanted to fuck as usual.

  Dvontè picked Janessa up and carried her into the bedroom, camcorder and all. “Where should I put it?”

  “The camcorder or your dick?” They both laughed. “Put the camera over on your dresser and make sure it is on. I wouldn’t want to miss getting anything on tape.”

  While Dvontè was setting the camera up, he noticed Janessa messing through the drawer of his nightstand, another definite no-no. A pair of lace panties was shoved in the back of it that some piece of ass he met at a club left over his place. He’d been meaning to throw them away and prayed Janessa didn’t find them. He’d waited damn near thirty years to make a porno tape and didn’t want a jealous rampage to ruin it.

  The phone started ringing again. Dvontè rushed over to the nightstand and turned the volume completely down on his answering machine before Trisha could leave a message.

  “Must be your woman calling,” Janessa stated sarcastically. “If you need to answer it, go ahead.”

  “Naw, I’m cool.” Dvontè reached for the wall plate to unplug it altogether. “I just want to eat you like a piece of black licorice.”

  “Speaking of eating—” Janessa pulled a black fountain pen out of his drawer, obviously what she had been looking for. “You’re always saying you have nothing good to eat between Thanksgiving and Christmas when you go visit your grandma.”

  She took the pen and drew the word Thanksgiving on her right inner thigh and Christmas on the left one. She sat up on her elbows and gave him that damn sexy smile again. “Now, how about ripping off my panties and joining me between the holidays?”

  Dvontè almost came in his pants. Janessa was about to turn him out for real. She was saying and doing all the right things. That “join me between the holidays” line was probably as old as he was, but he appreciated her freakiness anyway. He stood there for a brief moment, letting his eyes linger over her body, and then did what came naturally.

  Janessa lay there in a daze, not really enjoying what Dvontè was doing between her legs. She was more worried about where things were going in their relationship.

  Some of the things Tempest said to her had really hit home, and it bothered her to no end. When she showed up at Dvontè’s apartment without calling, she was a nervous freakin’ wreck. She just knew one of three things would happen. Either he would be pissed off and kick her to the curb, he would have another woman up in there, or he would pull a booty bandit switcharoo on her and be up in there banging another man like Tempest’s ex, Trent.

  Much to her delight, none of that happened, although it did take him almost five minutes to answer the door. Janessa figured he was probably taking a nap when she showed up, so she’d banged on his door louder and louder until she heard him stirring around in there. He was fully dressed when he answered and looked downright fuckable as usual. She began to worry that he was on his way out to be with some other hoochie.

  Lucky for her he didn’t have any other plans for the evening, because she’d spent over fifty bucks on groceries to make him this pepper steak recipe. She’d brought some red potatoes and fresh asparagus to go with it and a bottle of red wine to wash it down. Ironically, she didn’t get to even turn the stove on until the next morning. They ended up having it for breakfast.

  By the time the sun came up, Janessa had convinced herself that Tempest was wrong. Tempest was her gurl, but she’d let Geren put all those silly ideas in her head about Dvontè using her for sex. Granted, they didn’t hang out all the time, but they went to movies on occasion and ate out once or twice.

  She’d done something completely outrageous with him during the night by borrowing Shae’s camcorder and making a porno tape. That had always been a fantasy of Dvontè’s, and she wanted to make it come true for him. She would be lying if she said it didn’t turn her ass on too.

  Janessa was past turned on. Just the mere thought of the camera running made her want to impress somebody. The way she deep-throated his dick would have made Vanessa Del Rio bow down to her in envy. She’d posed for the camera, she’d vogued for the camera, and she made sure her valiant ride on his gratifying dick made it onto film. Yes, the dick was gratifying. Over the past few months, Dvontè’s up time had seriously improved. They watched the tape about four in the morning and were so pleased, they decided to do the sequel.

  Tempest was straight-up tripping, Janessa concluded. For once, Janessa just knew Tempest’s ass was reading a man wrong. After all, Tempest didn’t exactly have a spotless track record with men herself.

  CHAPTER 15

  mirror images

  tempest pretended to be completely preoccupied with the
manila folder placed in front of her, a folder she’d read cover to cover an hour earlier. She was actually racking her brain, trying to think of something to say to the young girl sitting across the desk from her.

  The girl was fourteen but looked old enough to walk into a club without being asked for identification. She had smooth, ebony skin and long, wavy black hair down to her bra strap. Tempest couldn’t help but notice that the girl’s breasts were larger than hers. She was also taller than Tempest, at least five-foot-nine, and had legs for days.

  Most of the young girls who came into the center seeking help were talkative, outspoken even, but not this one. She’d barely uttered a word. Tempest knew she would have to tread carefully.

  “Are you comfortable?” Tempest eyed the gray metal folding chair the girl was seated on. “We really need to get some better chairs, but we just don’t have the funding right now.”

  The girl made eye contact with Tempest for the first time. She had dark brown cat’s eyes. “I’m fine,” she whispered.

  Tempest exhaled. A small response was a far cry better than none at all. “So your name is Kensington?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And you’re fourteen?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She’s polite, Tempest noted. “How many months pregnant are you, Kensington?”

  The girl winced, sending a shudder up Tempest’s spine.

  “I don’t know, ma’am,” Kensington answered reluctantly. “Five or six, I guess. Something like that.”

  “I see. Any prenatal care?”

  “No, ma’am. All I know is I’m too far along to have an abortion.”

  Finally, we’re getting somewhere. “How do you know that? You tried to have an abortion?”

  Kensington nodded. “My momma took me to that clinic over on Georgia Avenue.”

  Tempest glanced back down at the folder. Kensington Sparks. Age fourteen. Raised by a single mother on welfare. Paternity unknown. Straight-A student.