MACEO

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Maceo

  Copyright © 2021 by Kenya Wright

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All rights reserved.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2021

  www.KenyaWrightBooks.com

  Table of content

  CHAPTER 1: THE RIGHT MOVES

  CHAPTER 2: PANTY DISCOUNT

  CHAPTER 3: COCKY BASTARD

  CHAPTER 4: BIG PIMPING

  CHAPTER 5: ROOF PICNIC

  CHAPTER 6: PIPE CLEANER

  CHAPTER 7: MISSING HIM

  CHAPTER 8: DRUNK DIALING

  CHAPTER 9: GARDEN LOVER

  EPILOGUE

  Chapter 1

  The Right Moves

  A long audition line of half-naked men stood outside.

  Grinning, I parked right in front of my nightclub and placed my sunglasses on my face.

  It’s good to be Christine.

  Before getting out of my Audi, I risked a few looks at the exotic dancing hopefuls, men that could’ve played a leading role in any of my nightly fantasies.

  Like Miami’s population, they represented an eclectic blend of ethnicity—Haitian to Cuban, Caribbean Islander to Russian. None of them wore shirts. Sunlight painted those oiled, sculpted chests. Intricate patterns of ink decorated some of their arms.

  Many of the men danced to the music blasting out of their headphones. Some wound succulent hips, slipped huge hands over chiseled abs, and licked their lips right before they dove to the ground and made the sidewalk their freaky little sex toys.

  It’s a hard job, but somebody has to do it.

  On mornings like these I never needed coffee or to listen to my Hear Me Roar playlist full of carefully chosen songs with female singers who crooned out lyrics that empowered women and made us all happy to have vaginas.

  No.

  On these days, anticipation bubbled in my chest and tingled across my brown skin. I woke up two hours early, whistled through my four-mile run on the Miami Beach boardwalk, hung out with my magic wand in the shower, ate a slice of cheesecake for breakfast, blew out my natural curls so they lay past my shoulders, put on my favorite black dress, which made me look like I had hips, and texted all of my close friends.

  Me: Audition Day, people!! I’m closing the club doors at 9:30 a.m. sharp. If your butts aren’t in the chairs by that time to help judge these sexy men, then you can listen to our cheers from outside.

  To which all replied in many colorful ways.

  Cora: I wish you would lock me out of that club!

  Maria: Wtf? Be there at 9:30? I’ve been sitting in my car waiting since 8:00 a.m. Lots of hot dancers are already here. Hurry, before I steal a few!

  Denise: I can’t make it today. Sorry. My boss, Mr. Dick Head had me research a case. It took me all night and morning to finish. I didn’t even leave the office. I’m in the same clothes from yesterday, thriving off of Red Bull mixed with three café Cubanos.

  Yikes.

  I only responded to Denise since I wouldn’t be seeing her.

  Me: I’ll let you off this time, but don’t forget the universal happy person motto, “Work hard, play harder!” When you look back at your twenties do you want to only remember stacks of legal files or would you like to reminisce on naked men?

  Denise: We all can’t have hot brothers to help us get rich quick.

  At that grumpy comment, I put my phone up and left her alone.

  Everyone knew I worked hard. I’d gotten my brothers and myself to success. We no longer rushed off to three or more jobs to keep our male revue nightclub, Sin, afloat.

  In fact, last month I finally quit my executive assistant position at the same law office Denise worked at.

  Before then, I managed Sin and slaved at the law office. On Monday and Tuesday evenings, I wore uncomfortable heels and blouses that exposed my cleavage for my hostess job with an all-inclusive sushi restaurant, which priced their California rolls at fifty dollars and didn’t allow unfashionably dressed couples through the door. I didn’t get to where I was by hanging onto my brothers’ coat tails.

  I’d busted my behind.

  Speaking of that stupid hostess job, I can’t wait to tell Chef Hayashi I quit. In fact, that will be a perfect ending to a splendid day.

  As soon as I stepped out of my car, the realization that today wouldn’t go as planned hit me hard in my chest. Water seeped out of the bottom of Sin’s silver and red door. It flooded the pavement and some of the parking lot. The liquid even reached where I stood and surrounded my platform sandals. I had to cover my nose. The stink of sewage radiated from the ground.

  Awesome, the pipes have finally exploded. I told Dylan and Douglas we needed to call a plumber, but no! They tried to tell me that creaking sound was normal.

  Meanwhile, the crowd of hopeful males continued to practice their routines as if the club weren’t leaking. Sin was the only male revue in Miami. Our entertainers took home at least a thousand dollars each night they performed. Where male party goers had several strip clubs to choose from in and out of Miami, women had nowhere to go. It was like the city’s business owners didn’t think ladies loved to watch sexy men.

  I capitalized on that stupid stereotype by convincing my twin body builder brothers, Dylan and Douglas, to dance for women at private bridal showers. It took a good three months until they agreed. It was another three months to push them into enrolling in dance classes. A year later, they got to the point where women actually enjoyed their performance enough to pay for it. After two years, I’d hired and managed ten more men. My brothers were able to quit dancing and help me with administrative duties.

  The next year we bought a club, and women crowded the place from Wednesday evenings all the way through Saturday night. We did well. Each month we made loads of money. The big downfall was that each month the maintenance part of expenses also ate away at our accounts like a hungry Pac Man chomping down on illuminated dots.

  I’ll have to call a plumber. If I leave it to Douglas, he’ll just try to fix it himself and make a mess.

  Yanking out my phone, I put it on speaker and pulled up the personal assistant app, Judy. Although just a phone app, she hated my guts. Granted, I worked her non-stop and provided absolutely no pay.

  I spoke in front of the phone, “Find a plumber in the nearest area with the most five star ratings.”

  The blonde avatar appeared on my screen and ignored my order. “Hello, Christine. How can I help you?”

  Oh get over yourself, Judy.

  I repeated, “Find a plumber in the nearest area with the most five star ratings.”

  “Searching now.” Judy’s avatar eyes studied me as her brain scanned the internet, those bright pupils judging me the whole time.

  “Don’t look at me that way,” I told the app. “How was I supposed to know the pipes would flood the club?”

  Someone tapped my back. I quickly turned and was greeted by my friend Maria’s beautiful face. She didn’t boast that sickening beauty that made you want to slap her in the face and totally search for flaws in her character. Like me, she possessed a raw elegance, something we worked at, but didn’t obsess about. We both had brown eyes and full lips, except I had a rich chocolate complexion due to my being African American and she had a honey colored tone because of her Hispanic roots.

  “Are you over-working Judy again?” Maria tossed her auburn hair over her shoulders.

  “Of course.” I gestured to the wet bottoms of my shoes. “You’ve been sitting out here in your car all morning. Thanks for telling me that my club was overflowing.”

  “I figured it would ruin your day,” Maria shrugged, “so I decided to just let you see it all when you arrived.”

  And besides, you were drooling over half-naked men dancing in the street.

  I smirked. “Well for future references let me know immediately.”

  “Gotcha.” She winked, took out her own phone, and slyly snapped a few pictures of the men in line. “I swear that guy over there with the huge arms and Mohawk must be from Spain. He has that special swagger that only European men have. You must hire him.”

  Judy chimed in, “The plumbing company, Moreno and Sons, have the highest review rating with an average 4.5 score out of five stars. Would you like me to call them?”

  “Yes. Go ahead, Judy.” I glanced at the guy Maria pointed to who was currently doing crotch thrusts toward his shadow. “Meh.”

  “Meh?” Maria’s eyes widened while her mouth dropped in shock. “Did you just say meh to the hottest male that has ever walked this side of the Earth? I may actually reconsider being friends with you.”

  “He has a great face and body, but there’s no rhythm in those hips. It would take six months to show him how to keep up with the song’s beat. Plus, there’s no way he could keep up with the others during the big show numbers.”

  Judy must’ve dialed Moreno and Sons because the phone rang on the other line.

  Maria sucked her teeth. “With that body, who cares about his ability to dance?”

  “Bad dancing means bad in bed. If he can’t move on his own with clothes on, why would he be able to do it right while he’s naked and inside of someone.”

  “Um . . . excuse me?” a male said on the other line. It came out smooth with a masculine edge. From those words alone, I guessed he was my age or close, maybe even good-looking. Although I’d been tricked by many with sensual voices to only see them in person and yearn to rush off the other way. Regardless, Maria and I froze.

  “Hello?” Curiosity laced his voice.

  Great. The plumber overheard my theory on dancing having a huge correlation to sex.

  I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry. I was talking to my friend.”

  “That’s fine,” he said. “I’m sure I could add my opinion to this conversation. Bad dancing does mean bad in bed. FYI, I’m an absolutely fantastic dancer. Would you like me to show you?”

  Maria covered her mouth to hide the loud giggles escaping her lips.

  I turned my back on her, just to maintain my own composure. “No, thank you.”

  “So you didn’t call for my advice on . . . dancing?” he asked.

  I grinned. “No. I need a plumber for my pipes.”

  “Clearly.”

  I raised my eyebrows, unsure if he was using sexual innuendo or completely understood that I was serious.

  “What’s the problem?” His voice lowered almost to a sensual whisper, or maybe it was my own imagination. Gorgeous men did surround me, and Maria and I were just discussing sex.

  I attempted to explain the situation. “Basically, everything is wet.”

  “Oh yeah. It’s all wet over here.” Maria laughed as she came back in front of me.

  I displayed my middle finger. “What my friend is trying to say is that it’s flooding.”

  “Okay?” he said with a hint of humor. “And you want me to come there, take out my snake, and plunge it into your drain, or do you think I may need to lay down some serious pipe? I’ve been known to maintain an exceptionally good rhythm.”

  Maria couldn’t contain herself. She doubled over with more silly giggles and almost dropped her phone.

  Impatience covered me like a blanket. I didn’t have time for this. On another day, and maybe if dealing with someone else’s business, then I would’ve been all laughs. However, that morning I faced the difficulty of figuring out a way to solve whatever water damage may have occurred so that I could still open this evening. Plus, I had to discover a new area where I would audition dancers in the next ten minutes.

  “Look,” I said, “I’m being serious. Although our conversation may have started off as . . . interesting, I have a real problem. I would like a plumber over here to fix the flooding. I have no idea what is wrong. If you’re not going to take this seriously, then I’ll call someone that will.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. This is serious?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I apologize. The way the entire conversation began and then the rest of it . . . Look, I have a friend who likes to have girls call me up once a month and make lewd plumber innuendos. Greg has problems, but I grew up with him so it’s hard to trade him in for another buddy. I figured you were one of his pranks. I’m so sorry.”

  “No.” I waved his apology away. “It’s fine. I’m just a bit annoyed with whatever is going on with the pipe system.”

  “Of course. Go ahead and give me your address. Is it a residence or place of business?”

  “Business.”

  “Okay.” The sound of typing came across the line. “What type of business is this?”

  Oh great. Just when all of the sexy talk ended. Here we go again.

  “It’s an exotic dance club.”

  Silent seconds passed before he finally said, “Really?”

  “Yes, but don’t worry. It’s male exotic dancers, not female.”

  “Okay. I think that is better. I guess,” he muttered. “It won’t take me too long. I’ll be the guy with all of my clothes on, and holding my big pipe in my hand.”

  “Fine.” I smirked. “Let’s just hope your plumbing skills are better than your jokes.”

  “Aww. I can’t promise that.” He laughed. “What’s the name of your business?”

  “Sin.”

  “Sin?” A hint of something else traveled over the line. It could have been a hint of erotic promise or maybe I was just imagining it. “Why Sin?”

  I shrugged. “Why not?”

  “My point exactly,” he whispered. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Chapter 2

  Panty Discount

  An hour passed.

  I’d begun auditions in the club and did my best to not stress about the flooding problem.

  Thankfully, the men ignored the mess. Their dreams of money and fame wouldn’t be stopped by a soaking wet business.

  There was a path of towels, napkins, blankets, and whatever else I could find to suck up all of the water. It was embarrassing to officially judge the men in such a filthy, puddled-setting, but I wanted to see how they looked on stage and if they could move around the space enough to make it their own.

  Thankfully, the floor was done in solid black tiles instead of carpet, so it would dry soon. The real damage came from the men’s bathroom in the far back of the club, right next to the front entrance.

  To take care of the sewage smell, I’d lit scented candles and placed them on several tables around the stage. Additionally, I sprayed Douglas’s expensive cologne. If my brother had been here, he would’ve killed me.

  Okay. So far the guys are looking good. Today just might not be ruined.

  And then sex walked into my nightclub.

  He was pure, muscled sex in a full designer suit that formed around him exactly right. His tailor probably cashed bigger paychecks than me. I assumed he was a dancer. What other reason would he need to be in here and looking so damn fine? And not just fine. When labeling this man, one had to form their lips in a particular way so that the word fine came out as fuuiine.

  Damn.

  A beautifully carved face encased with deep brown eyes. It boasted lips that my mouth suddenly yearned to taste. I had gone all of my life without an urge to suck on a man’s lips, and in one second I wondered why I’d wasted so much time not giving it a try. He had wavy brown hair and a caramel complexion with a five o’clock shadow that I knew, if given the chance, I would run my fingers along the stubble.

  Maybe I will get a chance if I hire him.

  I didn’t make it a habit of dating the male dancers that worked for me, but from time to time I did. It required setting clear boundaries between my role as his boss and temporary lover.

  It had to be temporary. Anything more than a few nights of sex never worked out. Either the guy got too possessive within the club or he assumed he should receive special treatment.

  When I dated men that worked outside of the nightlife, most frowned at my occupation. The rest became aggravated with my long hours.

  Basically, I spent more time with my magic wand than the opposite sex.

  Nevertheless, I watched this fine guy some more as I stood at the bar, right next to where my friends sat at their table with their judge score sheets.

  Maybe, I’ll try him.

  He adjusted his jacket, didn’t step forward any further, and moved his gaze all over the place as if he were considering buying it, versus getting ready to audition.

  Our eyes met.

  Confidence glazed over his. It unsettled and caught me off guard.

  He’s cocky. I think I like that.

  Cora jumped up from her chair and seized my arm. Like me, she had that same rich brown complexion. Unlike me, she was wild and boisterous. Everything she did possessed flare, from the thick braids that outlined her face to the bright pink leggings that covered her curvy hips.

  “Hire him,” Cora begged. “Hire that man right now!”

  “Calm down.” I set the bottle of wine on the bar, gave my two friends their glasses, and signaled for the DJ behind me to play this sexy guy’s music. “We have to see him dance first.”

  “Well, if he can’t dance, give him a job as a bartender.” Maria did a cheers with Cora. “He’s hotter than the last five dancers and they were panty-wetting hot.”

 

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