Erotic City

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Book: Read Erotic City for Free Online
Authors: Pynk
Tags: FIC005000
angry and his words dragged. “I’ve tried to get a license over and over again. The Nevada State Athletic Commission won’t do it because of the damn hematomas. How many hour-long hearings have we had and they still won’t lift the medical suspension?”
    His manager spoke angrily as he sat in the brown chair on the other side of the rectangular desk. “This still makes no sense to me. I’ve talked to a team of doctors and neurosurgeons from all over the country who say you’re in no more danger than any other boxer. They agreed that there are football players with even more serious head injuries than this, and they still continue their careers. Yet the commission refuses. They still voted five-zero anyway.”
    “This isn’t football. This is what it is.” Lavender still stared.
    “Well, we’ll keep challenging the commission. We’ll file papers in federal court.”
    “My career is over.”
    “Maybe so. Maybe not.”
    Suddenly, Lavender’s office door opened at a snail’s pace. The creaking seemed to go on forever. Lavender’s grandfather had been staying with him. He peered in and said, “Excuse me, DeMarcus. Your career might be over. But not your life. Your destiny is better than your history. Remember that.” He stood and stared until Lavender’s eyes joined his. Lavender smiled. His grandfather smiled. And then he closed the door just as slowly and disappeared.
    Two weeks later, his grandfather died.

6
    “Hate on Me”
    Sunday, March 30, 2008

10:58 a.m.
    N ew and upscale Open Word church in Cumming, Georgia, was as big and popular as big megachurches get. And Pastor Michael Bellaire was as charismatic and renowned as big megachurch pastors get. He was tall, he was charming, and he was very, very rich.
    Rolls Royce and private jet rich.
    Eight-figure bank account rich.
    Twenty-thousand-square-foot mansion rich.
    The brotha was rich.
    Milan and her sister, Tamiko, grew up in the church, mainly attending with their mother in Miami. Even after their mother passed away when they were teens, some Sundays they would go to church with their father and his new young wife, Nancy.
    As the late morning orange sun and pale blue, cloudless skies hovered overhead, Milan and Lavender stepped away from Milan’s pearl white CLK 320 coupe. The license plate read “EROTICA.”
    They were dressed impeccably. He was in his silver gray single-breasted suit with a black shirt, black tie, and vintage Prada black leather shoes. And she wore her pencil skirt and tailored jacket with silver-and-burgundy herringbone slingbacks. Her extralong natural pearls were tied in a knot just under her wide breasts. Milan and Lavender proceeded step for step.
    The regular churchgoers always greeted the well-known couple. Lavender had only moved to Atlanta three years earlier, but was often recognized. He was muscular with a neck like a running back. He stood six one, weighed two ten, and was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. And before meeting Milan, he had been a heavyweight ladies’ man.
    “That’s a doggone shame,” one church hat–wearing woman said outside as she and her friend walked just behind the couple. She failed to keep her slow-moving words under her breath. She looked back at Milan’s license plate and then examined the couple.
    “What did that mean?” Milan asked Lavender.
    “What?” he asked as he adjusted his collar and placed his navy blue Bible case under his arm.
    “Hypocrite,” the woman mumbled behind their backs.
    Milan turned her head to check out the ladies as Lavender placed his arm around her waist. She turned back around after the women offered zero eye contact.
    Lavender stepped up and held the glass door open for Milan to proceed first. As he walked in right behind her, he held the door open for the ladies as well. They proceeded inside offering him a nod. “Thanks,” one of them said to him, proceeding to the right, mumbling to her friend.
    “Hi, Ms. Kennedy, Mr. Lewis,” a woman

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