Page 8 of Cause When You Love Someone

Clarke

Years in the limelight made me oblivious to eyes on me, but it was nearly impossible to ignore Ishmael’s presence.

I damn near begged my mom to continue the interview process after he left, but my pleas were met with rejection.

Part of me believed she only hired him to spite me.

I made it clear when we returned from Darwin’s spot that I didn’t like Ishmael, and she thought it was funny.

Truth be told, I didn’t know if he liked me either.

A week ago, he escorted me to a video shoot where I made a cameo, and I could count on one hand how many times he spoke.

Earlier, I watched Ishmael read his book as the glam team worked on me. His fitted black collar shirt clung to his biceps, and his dimples came into view every time he moved his lips.

Like the last time we were together, he didn’t speak much. He really didn’t have to. His six-foot-five stature demanded attention, and his indifferent expression spoke volumes. My mom believed Ishmael was clean-cut, but glasses and chill demeanor aside, I knew a sinner when I saw one.

“Right here, Clarke!” Poochie yelled from behind the camera. “Give me something fierce! Give me something sexy!”

I shut my eyes, disappointed at the idea that I couldn’t deliver. The beauty shoot was our third look for the day, the only one that didn’t include props that could drown out my dead eyes.

Poochie pinched the bridge of his nose and dropped his camera by his waist. “Clarke, I don’t know what’s making you so uptight, but it’s showing on your face. That means it’ll show in the photos. I thought you were comfortable with turning this into a solo shoot.”

I huffed, knowing he was referring to my decision to complete the photoshoot without Chaz. “I’m sorry, Poochie. I don’t know what’s going on with me.”

The slender photographer combed his fingers through his hair and plastered on a grin I could see through. “All right. Let’s try something. I want you to think of the sexiest man you’ve ever seen.”

Before I could catch myself, my stare shifted to Ishmael, who stood a few feet behind Poochie.

In a ripple, the handful of people on set followed the route of my gaze.

Though my cheeks burned with embarrassment, Ishmael seemed unfazed by the attention.

Even with all eyes on him, he kept his concentration on me as he stroked the holster wrapped around his shoulders.

“All right, Whitney Houston!” Poochie called out. “I want you to take a second and envision yourself in the arms of the sexiest man you know. Move that body how you would move it if only he was watching.”

I shut my eyes, falling into a space that only included me and a man who smelled like citrus and mint. He could be dismissive, but for right now, I would make my bodyguard my muse.

After a few naughty visions flashed in my head, I pried my eyes apart and made love to the camera like I was born to take pictures.

I tried to fight the urge to give Ishmael my eyes, but I had no self-control.

I found him in the room and caught a sideways smirk dancing across his face when we locked eyes.

“Yes!” Poochie yelled. “Keep that brow pointed.”

I followed his directions, though I mimicked Ishmael’s expression.

For a second, it felt like we were in our own little world.

He stroked the hair on his upper lip and chin, and I snaked my fingertips around my neck, but we maintained eye contact like we were playing a secret game of Look Away .

Had the peanut-butter shaded giant been any lighter, he would have been red in the face.

Growing more comfortable by the second, I began mouthing the words of a Jazmine Sullivan song playing in the warehouse.

As soon as I mouthed the word pussy, Ishmael abandoned his post and walked out of sight.

I only had a few minutes to bask in the idea of breaking him down before the heavy steel door slammed shut. All eyes raced toward the exit where Chaz walked in holding a bouquet of flowers and my laptop.

“Poochie, can we take five?”

He nodded. “Handle your business, babe. I think we have everything I need.”

On his cue, everyone dispersed, and Sage powerwalked over to me with his eyes bulging out of his head.

“I thought he wasn’t participating in the photoshoot,” Sage whispered.

“He’s not.” I screeched. “I’ll be right back. Let me go see what he wants.”

Before I could make it to Chaz, I saw Ishmael cut off his path. The bodyguard pointed to the peace offering in Chaz’s hand, and instantly, my throat started to itch.

“That’s your woman, and you don’t know which flower she’s allergic to?” Ishmael grimaced.

“Nigga, I know. I was just . . . moving too fast. Who the hell are you?”

Ishmael snatched the flowers, then walked off without offering an answer.

Chaz’s chest swelled at Ishmael like he wanted to go after him, but instead, the human teddy bear stomped over to me.

The stench of vodka soared from his breath when he went in to kiss me.

His eyes were covered by a pair of sunglasses, but they didn’t conceal how fucked up he was.

He was so consumed with shielding his eyes that he didn’t clean the powder from under his nose.

A jittery smile overpowered my face while my eyes danced around the room.

Everyone on set signed a non-disclosure agreement.

Still, that didn’t stop them from watching the shit show unfold.

I thought to get on my diva tip and demand they all wait outside while I handled the addict, but I figured that would damage my reputation even more.

“Chaz, what are you doing up here? You don’t usually spend time on set.”

“I came to return your computer like you asked. My bad about the flowers.”

My heart cracked when I observed his hands quiver as he handed me the laptop.

“You could’ve brought this to my house, and the flowers aren’t something you should forget.”

“You’re right. I should know better, just like you should never put a nigga on your payroll without telling me. That’s what you on? That’s what you doing now?”

I shook my head and started toward my dressing room, and as I expected, he followed me.

“Coming in here won’t shut me up, Clarke!”

“Yeah, but it’ll help with the embarrassment you’re causing me.”

He spun around like a Tasmanian devil. “What? That’s how you feel? I’m an embarrassment to you?”

“Yes! I don’t understand why you’re here. I told you a week ago, we’re done! I didn’t stutter, nigga!”

Chaz’s teeth sank into his bottom lip as he slowly entered my personal space. Before I could sidestep the maniac, he placed his hands on my face, forcing me to look at him.

“You can’t leave me, Cece. I love you.”

“Love isn’t enough, Chaz.”

A loud knock at the door caused us to freeze.

“Open the door, Clarke,” Ishmael ordered without raising his voice.

Yes! Saved by Superman!

Chaz squeezed my cheeks. “Is he the reason you don’t want me, Clarke?”

“ You’re the reason. You have forty-eight hours to come get your stuff before I have Sage take it to Goodwill.”

As the door screeched open, Chaz gave me space to breathe. I tried to conceal my discomfort and left my hands at my sides instead of massaging my achy jaws.

On shaky legs, I watched the men size each other up as Chaz stepped backward through the open door. I could hear him cussing and talking shit as he made his exit, yet I stayed put. I had witnessed enough of his dramatic departures to know I didn’t need to see another.

“Clarke.” Ishmael spoke my name softly. “Are you ready to go?”

“Give me a second,” I said so low that I almost didn’t hear myself.

“I’ll be outside the door.”

The fear of facing the people in the warehouse made me linger in the dressing room.

Every time I blinked, I could feel a migraine creeping up on me, so I undid my ponytail, hoping to gain relief.

I exchanged my halter top and biker shorts for a leather top and high-waisted jeans, and once I was satisfied with the facade I saw in the mirror, I sashayed back on set like nothing ever happened.

“Clarke, baby.” Poochie tilted his head to one side. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I apologize for the drama.” I combed my loose waves behind my ear. “You know good pussy drives the boys crazy.”

“Trust me. I know all too well!”

Poochie and I giggled like delusional homegirls before he promised to send me proofs of our work and sent me on my way.

To my surprise, Ishmael climbed into the driver’s seat of my black truck once I was settled in the back.

“Hm. What are you doing? Where’s Rock?”

“He had an emergency. I’m taking you home.”

“Wow. Why am I the last to know?”

“Because we were giving you space to work, unlike other people you associate with. Not everyone is around to disturb your peace. Those are just the ones you seem to enjoy having around.”

“Things are bad now, but they weren’t always this way,” I lied.

Ishmael released a low chuckle. “I didn’t ask.”

“I know, but I . . . I can feel your judgment.”

“You’re projecting. You think the shit you put up with should be judged.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. Thank you for . . . checking him about the flowers.”

“It wasn’t for your benefit. It’s my job to make sure you make it home safely. If something happens to you while I’m around, it’ll fall back on me.”

“Damn. That was harsh.”

“It’s the truth. When I made a comment about spending money on your man, you told me to stay in my place.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to be . . . mean.” My eyes clung to passing cars. “It doesn’t matter. We broke up.”

“I’m sure this isn’t the first time.”

My head snapped back before I stuck out my tongue and flicked him off.

“I can see you in the mirror,” he replied, causing my bones to stiffen.

“You’re giving that energy to the wrong person, Clarke. You can’t say I’m lying. I run a background check on everyone I work with. I don’t talk about what I don’t know.”

“Hmph. What did you find out?”

“You were a dancer. Why did you stop?”