Chapter 2
“You look like you just got off a plane,” Paxton Reid said, his gaze sweeping the length of Kamaya’s slim frame.
“So now you have jokes? You know I just got off an airplane.” She was wearing oversized sweatpants, a tank top and Converse sneakers. The look was too casual and very basic.
“But you look like you just flew on a commercial flight and not private. You should look way better.”
“You’re an ass,” Kamaya said, narrowing her gaze on the man. She and Paxton Reid had been best friends for years. They’d met in high school, lab partners who both hated science with a passion. For a brief moment they’d been a couple, but that hadn’t worked. Occasionally they were lovers, and that did work, even when it didn’t. Despite their obvious differences—he was white and a male—they genuinely cared about each other and most days that was more than enough.
Her eyes rolled as she took the short flight of stairs to the front entrance of her office space. The Michelle Initiatives, located on Lee Street, was welcoming and looked like they were in the business of selling cupcakes and lollipops. The old two-story home with its lime-colored paint, bright yellow shutters and red door belied what was really happening behind the wooden entrance.
Kamaya had named the business after herself. Michelle was her middle name. Her brother Mason had the monopoly on their last name, Boudreaux Enterprises being his claim to fame. Michelle had been personal enough, but not so much that it drew any unwanted attention from her family. Because The Michelle Initiative was all about adult entertainment.
Most of Kamaya’s businesses, either directly or indirectly, provided sex-related products and services to an adult clientele. On the titillating side there was Play Candy, her line of adult sex toys, Eye Candy, the adult publishing line that was home to erotic stories, and her newest acquisition, forty-three strip clubs across the country soon to be renamed “The Wet Bar” and revitalized to cater to an upscale female clientele. On the less sensationalistic side there were the upscale massage parlors, A Touch Above, and the vaginal rejuvenation centers, Secret Garden Clinics. But, when asked, all Kamaya ever talked about were the convenience stores and gas stations that had been the foundation of her expanding portfolio. In the corporate offices of The Michelle Initiative she employed a staff of thirty-six people who all operated out of the pretty, gingerbread-trimmed home.
Paxton bounded up the steps behind her. “I may be an ass but I’m an honest ass!” he said, his expression smug. “And you can always trust me to tell you the truth!”
Kamaya tossed him a look as she pushed her way inside. “So what have I missed?” she asked.
“The first Wet Bar franchise is opening soon. Renovations are almost done and we meet with the franchise owner tomorrow.”
“Is he on board for the feature?” she asked. “He understands that we want him to be the face of The Wet Bar?”
“Well, he will. I figured we’d break the news to him in person.”
Kamaya’s eyes widened. “You told me we weren’t going to have any problems. You know very well that you and I can’t be associated...”
“I told you. It’s not a problem. No one will ever connect your good family name with the business.”
Disaster suddenly flashed before Kamaya’s eyes as she imagined everything going straight to hell. She suddenly had visions of her parents disowning her and her siblings disavowing any knowledge of who she was. People discovering that she was hawking sex and not chips and beer could be potentially devastating. She slapped her palm against the desktop. “I knew this wasn’t a good idea. I don’t know why I let you talk me into doing this profile piece.”
“I’ve got this! And we need the exposure. If we’re going to sell these franchises and grow this brand you need to do this.”
Before Kamaya could respond, their secretary, Virginia Wade, called her name, purposely interrupting the conversation. The two were renowned for their no blows held back battles and a rise of ire was beginning to curdle like spoiled milk between them. “Kamaya, I left some checks on your desk to be signed, and the massage center called to confirm your appointment. You need to be there by eight tomorrow morning.” The woman smiled. “And welcome back.”
“Thank you, Virginia,” Kamaya said as she moved from the reception area into her office space. She pointed her index finger in Paxton’s direction. “I swear, if this blows up...”
“It won’t. Stop worrying, please. We’ve been doing this for how many years now? No one has discovered anything about your salacious endeavors and they never will.”
The two exchanged a look and then she closed the door behind her as Paxton stood on the other side.
* * *
There weren’t enough hours in a day to do everything Kamaya needed to do. She was past the point of exhaustion and she still had a grocery list of things that she needed. Work had moved from her office to the dining room in her Marengo Street home. She pushed the folders from in front of her to the other side of her table, shifting documents from point A to point B as she attempted to bring some organization to the mess.
She had bought the chain of strip clubs in spite of having some reservations, but the purchase price had been too good to pass up. Envisioning where she could take the down-and-out titty bars had been a no-brainer. Revamping their programs, revitalizing their interior designs and hiring all male dancers had been the easiest decision to make. There was a market eager to enjoy the adult entertainment men brought to the dance stage. Women loved watching beautiful, hard-bodied males and they were willing to pay well for the privilege.
Franchising the properties and the business formula had been Kamaya’s idea. Starting with the New Orleans’s property had been Paxton’s, the proximity of the location allowing them an up close and personal view of what would work and what would not. That, and his inside connection to the investor who’d easily come up with the required cash had been enough for her to trust her old friend with the reins. Now she was excited to see if he’d actually been able to pull off her vision.
She pushed herself from the table and stole a quick glance at the clock on the wall. It was just past midnight and although she knew she needed some rest, she was anxious, her entire body a ball of nerves. She needed release. Something heated and dirty, where sweat carried the fretfulness from her body. She needed her sure thing for just an hour, or maybe even two if it was really good. In the realm of Kamaya’s small world, men were toys, sex was a game and she knew how to play them both to her advantage.
As she moved toward the master bedroom she pulled her cell phone from her back pocket and pushed the speed-dial button. Paxton answered on the third ring.
“Why are you still up?” he asked, his voice low, as if he were whispering.
“I have a lot on my mind,” Kamaya noted. “Is this a bad time?”
There was a moment of hesitation before he answered. “Can we talk in the morning?”
A hint of surprised lifted her brow. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”
“It’s no big deal,” he said cutting her off. “Laney just stopped by. She was upset and then she fell asleep...”
“Laney?”
