Games Divas Play (A Diva Mystery Novel) Read Free Page B

high. “Let’ s go, MJ.”
    “Right behind you, boss,” MJ said as he slipped on his tinted Gucci shades, tucked Sasha Fierce under his arm, and grabbed his box while humming Beyoncé’s “Irrep laceable.”

    Assuming that HR tool, Mario, would forget to cancel my corporate American Express card for at least another day or so, I agreed to spring for “we’ve just been fired” drinks. MJ and I were going to meet at Coltrane’s after we dropped off our stuff.
    Truth be told, I also wanted to go home, see my boyfriend, Eric, and cry to him about the injustice of it all. Maybe I could convince him to go with us for drink s as well.
    Eric, a struggling website developer, worked out of our cramped West Hollywood apartment. We were introduced by a mutual friend at an old-school skating party, and I fell hard for the six-foot web geek with ebony skin, a blinding white smile, and a wicked sense of humor. Eric and I had been together for nearly two years—with no ring in sight as my mother was fond of reminding me every chance she got. He claimed he wanted to get his business on solid footing before we got married, but I was starting to think there was more to it. And recently things had gotten so strained between us as we each worked around the clock to build our respective careers that we had little time for quality interaction, let alone sex. We seemed to fight more often than have meaningful exchanges. He had also been staying out later than usual with his friends, or seemed to always be going off to some tech conference to “network.”
    Slipping my key into the lock of our third-floor apartment, I walked in and dropped my sad little box with what was left of my journalism career and the black Marc Jacobs purse I splurged on last week to celebrate my twenty-ninth birthday on the worn leather sofa. Biting my lip, I wondered if I could take the purse that I had maxed out my credit card for back to Neiman Marcus. Money was going to be tight until I found a new gig, and I knew Eric couldn’t cover all the bills. The coffee table overflowed with copies of Hollywood Scoop! and other magazines and an ashtray full of Eric’s cigarette ashes. I dumped out the contents of my box and then swept the pile of magazines into it, dumped the ashes on top, and placed it by the front door for Eric to take out with the trash.
    As I made my way to the back of the apartment, I heard a high-pitched giggle coming from our tiny second bedroom that Eric adopted as his home office. He must be Skyping with a client, I thought, so I walked softly along the worn hardwood floors to the door and pushed it open. I could see the back of his head as he sat in front of his three-screen monitor setup. The middle screen was partially obscured, but as I came closer, I could make out the image of two naked women sitting on a bed.
    “Oh, daddy, is that how you like it?” cooed a buxom woman with long blond curls as she got into a kneeling position and rubbed a large black dildo between her breasts and then pushed it up to her pouty red lips. The other woman, an equally large-breasted brunette with a short pixie cut and heavy black eye makeup, positioned herself behind the blonde, massaging her breasts and then moving her hands down the wom an’s body.
    “Yeah, baby,” Eric moaned. “That’s it. Do it for big daddy.” Suddenly I noticed Eric’s arm moving up and down in his lap and heard a squishy noise as he leaned toward the large computer screens. He twisted his body and used his free hand to push a button on his keyboard, and the other two monitors came alive with the images of the naked women as the sound of their moans echoed around the small room. He then quickly dipped his hand into my Crème de la Mer moisturizing cream, which sat on his cluttered desk next to the keyboard. The brunette roughly turned the blonde’s face toward hers, jammed her tongue down her throat, and kissed her roughly as her hand dove between the woman’s thighs.