Scandalous - Michael B Jordan

chapter 5

i put the plates on the island next to the napkins and forks i've already set out. "coffee or water?"

"coffee, no cream. almond milk if you have it."

i poured black coffee and set it in front of her before sitting down on one of the stools. she gets up on the stool next to mine, crosses her legs, then looks at the coffee in disdain. "where's the milk?" she glances at my junk. "and how come you don't have any clothes on?"

"drink it black. i have clothes on." i saw the way she looked at me earlier, she needed to look some more. i ate two pieces of bacon at once. she stares at me and her stomach growls.

"eat. steelo says you didn't eat shit yesterday before you started pounding alcohol." i give her a warning look. "heads up, that's not happening."

"heads up," she mimics me. "you get me fat and the studio will sue you for millions."

i push my stool back, went to the freezer, and grabbed the pint of vanilla ice cream that's been there a month. taking a spoon from the drawer, i dig out a giant scoop then dumped it in her coffee, spoon and all. "cream and sugar." i throw the tub back in the freezer.

she stares at her coffee while i sit back down, but she doesn't move. jesus fuck. so i stir the damn coffee, melting the rest of the ice cream, then dumped the spoon on the counter. "there you go, drink. your studio can fuck off. every man in america will thank me for putting weight on you."

her head pops up. "you think i'm too thin?"

"yes." everywhere but her boobs.

she blows out an exasperated breath. "no one's ever told me that."

"quit hollywood, gain thirty pounds and a perspective, then talk to me." i ate half my eggs in one forkful.

she snorts. "no one quits hollywood. it quits you."

the shit about drowning last night clicks into place. "quit if you wanna quit. you don't have to drown in that bullshit." she has to have a shitload of money by now.

"i'm a star," she says sarcastically as fuck. "who said i was drowning?" she picks up her coffee and takes a tentative sip.

"you did, last night. repeatedly." i eat the rest of my eggs. she takes another sip of her coffee and was quiet. then after a moment, she asks something.

"what else did i say?"

i eat my last piece of bacon and push my plate away, then i stare at her. she was fucking pretty without makeup. "it wasn't what you said." i was still fantasizing about her rubbing one out. the animal sounds i could've done without.

she swallows, then stares straight ahead. "okay, what did i do?"

"straight up, you don't remember shit?" she was all over me in the shower. washing her and not fucking her had been a new kind of torture. i'm not a stranger to delayed gratification, but fuck.

"no." she clips.

"nothing?" because in the shower, there were a few minutes when i was convinced she knew what was up, including my dick. she shakes her head. "what'd you take?" i wasn't gonna lecture her, but come the fuck on.

she picks her fork up and pushes her eggs around. taking a deep breath, then letting it out slow, she put her fork down. "short answer is i don't know. the long answer? i didn't drink that much. so the fact that i barely remember anything, including how i wound up naked next to you in bed when i've been celibate for four years, tells me i was drugged. and since montgomery de la cruz is a walking pharmacy for every and anything, i know it was him."