Chapter 2
Marcel
“The longer you wait, the harder it’s going to be,” Layla warned her brother. “Just rip off the Band-Aid and move on.”
Marcel leaned back in the booth and stared across the table at his baby sister. He’d just spent the last hour complaining about his girlfriend Camille. He’d made up his mind to break up with her this weekend.
“Thanks for not saying I told you so,” he said, sipping his cognac.
Layla was his most trusted adviser. They met for happy hour whenever they could find time in their crazy-busy schedules. McCormick & Schmick’s in El Segundo was one of their favorite spots.
“If you really want to thank me, then the next time I tell you you’ve picked the wrong woman, believe me.”
Marcel wondered when his sister had become so wise. Staring into her face was like looking into a mirror. The family resemblance between the pair was so strong that people often asked if they were twins. Both had chocolaty smooth skin, high cheekbones, and full, kissable lips. Marcel was a broad-chested six-one. In heels, Layla was only a few inches shorter. She had even followed him into the practice of law.
As a junior partner with the litigation firm Sherman & Finnegan, LLP, Marcel had all the trappings of success. A career he enjoyed, a hefty bank account, and a Redondo Beach home with a view of the Pacific Ocean. Only the relationship part was missing. His plans did include getting married and fathering a couple of kids. Eventually. But so far, he hadn’t met a woman who made married life look more attractive than bachelorhood. The way he saw it, time was still on his side. He was only 36.
Camille had been the court reporter on one of his cases. During breaks in the deposition when no one else was around, they joked and flirted with each other. By day three of the deposition, Camille made her intentions clear. As she straddled her little machine, she opened her legs just wide enough for Marcel to see that she wasn’t wearing any panties.
As soon as the case settled, Marcel asked her out to a movie and dinner. They never made it to either. When he stepped into her apartment, she was wearing a dress so short, showing off legs so long and sexy he forgot how to breathe. She bent over to collect her purse, exposing her bare ass.
“You want it now?” she asked, turning around and accurately reading the lust in his eyes.
“Hell yeah.”
He screwed her right there on her living room carpet. The girl was a freak with a capital F, good to go anytime, day or night. Even now, the thought of the acrobatics she performed in bed made his dick swell with satisfaction.
Other than her proficiency in the bedroom, though, Camille didn’t have much else to offer. He was still kicking himself for missing the signs Layla detected five minutes after meeting her.
“How’d you peep her out so quickly?” Marcel asked his sister.
Layla pursed her lips. “A blind man could see Camille wasn’t about nothing. When you brought her to my barbecue on the Fourth of July, all she did was brag about herself. She should’ve had insecure stamped across her forehead. You were just charmed by her long legs.”
Marcel winked. “That would be true.”
Some men liked big breasts or huge behinds, but Marcel was a bona fide leg man and Camille’s were as long as stilts. He was also a bona fide sap when it came to breakups. He hated it when a woman cried, so he would avoid a confrontation for as long as possible. Unfortunately, he’d let the situation with Camille go on way longer than it should have. There was no way to avoid a drama-filled breakup now.
“She’s probably the type to start whining and crying. Don’t let it get to you,” Layla cautioned, as if reading his mind. “Women like that can’t be man-less for long. She’ll latch onto another guy before the end of the month.”
With her incredible legs and her proficiency between the sheets, Marcel had no doubt that she would.
“You need to go solo for a little while,” Layla urged him. “Instead of hopping from woman to woman, spend some time by yourself. Get to know you. I dare you to spend six months without a woman in your life.”
Marcel blinked. “Six months? Women can do that. Men aren’t built like that.”
He’d already been mentally thumbing through his little black book to figure out who he would call off the bench once Camille was out of the picture. He had at least six or seven women to choose from.
Layla frowned and folded her arms. “Okay, three months then. You can certainly go three months without sex, can’t you?”
Marcel laughed. “I don’t know, I’ve never tried.”
She leaned across the table and punched him in the arm. “Guys have it way too easy.”
“Only because women make it so easy for us.”
“I’m serious, Marcel. Spend some time getting inside your own head. And when you’re ready, choose a woman who’s about something.”
“Okay, okay. Maybe I will take a break.”
Marcel’s phone buzzed and he pulled it from the pocket of his jacket. He read the screen, then smirked across the table.
Layla arched a brow. “That smile looks dangerous. What’s up?”
“I’ll give that three-month hiatus thing a try,” he told her, “but not right now.”
“Why not?”
“That was Rex. The Black Women Lawyers Association’s dance is next week. That’s when all the professional sistas turn out in droves. I definitely need to be up in that mix.”
Layla shook her head. “You’re such a dog.”
Marcel drained his glass and winked. “Bow wow.”