BEY
New life. New job. New home. New goals...
I vowed to make drastic changes and to never fall back into old habits. But then Shawn Carter showed up and blew all my good intentions to hell. I should have stayed away. I shouldn't have played his ga...
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BEYONCÉ
Shawn is playing beer pong with a group of guys who are barely legal to drink. I don’t even think he knows their names, but he seems to be having the time of his life.
Me? Not so much.
There’s vomit on my shoes from some random chick who was screaming, “Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” She threw up something that looked nothing like chicken. It did, however, resemble decaying guacamole. Guess I was her winner.
Disgusting.
My ass has been grabbed more times than I can count, and the perverts doing the grabbing run off and bump fists with other guys who congratulate them like they’ve truly accomplished something. If my breasts “accidentally” get brushed one more time, I might stab someone in the eye with a pen, and call that an accident too.
I haven’t had a drop to drink, and that might be the problem. But I also don’t know any of these people, so I don’t trust them to be around me when I’m drunk. Yeah, I’m incredibly rational and think of things like that these days.
I had no idea how much adulting I do until this moment.
A guy in front of me stumbles, and a gasp leaves my lips when half his beer sloshes up and spills all over my shirt.
“Sorry, but hey! Let’s do a wet t-shirt contest!” he hoots, punching a fist in the air like he’s a motherfucking genius.
Cracking my neck to the side, I walk toward Shawn as he chugs down another beer—and they’re actually chanting chug, chug, chug, too.
Whoops and whistles sound out, and Shawn raises two fists in the air like he’s a gold medal winner or something as they start chanting his name.
When he sees me, he gives me a drunken grin, pulling me to him with both hands on my ass. At least I like it when he gropes me, but I’m sick of getting groped by all these assholes. Not that I can tell Shawn that. He’d either end up in a fight, or tell me to get over it. I’m not sure which, to be honest, considering how unpredictable he is.
“Hey, baby,” he says, his eyes glazed over, letting me know how far gone he is. “You’re drunk,” I point out.
“You’re sober,” he states with disappointment.
“Do you even know any of these people?” I ask, gesturing around the room with one hand.
“I don’t have to know them. These are my people. Look at everyone having fun. Why can’t you loosen up?”
Okay… So that’s annoying. I’m not a wet blanket, but I’ve been there and done that. It’s just not as appealing to me to hang out and get wasted with a bunch of strangers.
“Maybe if some of the others were here,” I say with a shrug.
He arches an eyebrow. “Michael has a new baby. Will is probably digging himself out of whatever contraption Jada has thrown at him. Kanye is with Kim at some hotel, checking out their possible wedding location. Nas and Nicki are with Angel. Dame and Aliyah are—”
“I get it,” I interrupt, sighing. “I know everyone is out doing something tonight. I was just saying I don’t feel comfortable getting wasted with—”
A fight breaks out in the middle of the floor, and five guys dressed in tactical gear—Shawn’s hired security—swoop in from out of nowhere and break it up before it can really get started. Some guy bumps into me in his haste to get away from the action, almost knocking me over. Shawn catches me then shoves the guy, ready to get into a fight as well.
“Stop,” I tell him, shoving at his chest when the guy taunts him.
“She shouldn’t be in the fucking way,” the guy says, as if he’s goading Shawn. Shawn easily pushes past me, and his fist collides with the guy’s face. All the asshole did was barely bump into me, and now Shawn is on top of him, pummeling him as his security guys wrestle their way through the crowd.
By the time they pull him off the other guy, the guy’s nose is a bloody mess, as well as his mouth. He’s clutching his side, and Shawn is still giving the security team hell, making three guys hold him back.
I guess I have my answer about what he’d do if he found out my ass was getting grabbed all night.
My heartbeat is in my ears as Shawn curses and threatens the guy, acting completely crazy. I’ve never seen him lose it like that, and I have to blame it on the fact he’s too drunk to think logically. What if that guy sues him? “I’ve come to all of his parties, and I’ve never seen him go ape shit like that,” one guy is saying.
“Yeah, he’s fucking psycho. Awesome!”
Feeling even more uncomfortable, I slowly make my way back to Shawn as he shrugs off his last security guy. He’s telling them to make sure that ‘piece of shit’ never comes back.
When he sees me, the violent man on the surface ducks back into hiding, and he pulls me toward him again, kissing the top of my head with a tenderness that contradicts the brutal act he just displayed.
“You okay?” he asks, tilting my chin up so that my eyes can meet his.
“I’m fine. That was way over the top.”
His look hardens with that. “The hell it was. This is my house, and you’re my girl. Fuck him. He needed his ass kicked.”
I want to slap him and kiss him in the same breath. I hate the whole caveman thing, but at the same time, I’m fairly positive no one has ever been so fiercely overprotective of me. However, I still think beating the hell out of a guy over something as simple as that is overkill.
What would have happened if security hadn’t been here?
Shawn moves me against him, kissing me again, and I give up thinking until we start moving toward his bedroom.
“I think you owe me bathroom sex,” he murmurs against my lips, pushing his door open.
My smile spreads, surprising me, but that smile dies immediately when we hear the moans and growls coming from somewhere in the dark room.
“What the fuck?” Shawn barks while flipping on the light.
On his bed, Rihanna Fenty and some guy I’ve seen at the gym—Wayne?—look up from their joined positions on the bed, fully naked.
“What the hell, dude?” Wayne snaps.
“This is my fucking bed, dude. It’s off limits. This damn door was locked!” Shawn explodes.
Wayne curses while rolling off Star, and I’m subjected to seeing all of his naked body, including his condom-covered penis—as he grabs his jeans with jerky movements. Star… I also get to see her. She grabs a sheet, but it’s too late. I’ve gotten an eyeful.
I’m not sure how I feel about his ex being on his bed. Naked. Even if it is with another guy.
“Sorry,” Wayne says, sounding genuinely apologetic. “She said this was a guest room, and the door wasn’t locked.”
“Oops,” Rihanna says, though it doesn’t sound genuine.
Rihanna cuts her eyes toward me, and she gives me a smile… A smile that almost looks sweet, but I have a feeling it’s lined with a razor’s edge.
Rihanna stands, keeping Shawn’s sheet wrapped around her, and I turn and walk out when she gives him the same smile she gave me and utters a fake apology. I’m out the front door when Shawn catches up to me, and I pass a guy who is puking in the bushes.
“Beyoncé! Where the hell are you going?” Shawn demands, gently grabbing my arm and forcing me to turn around.
He looks confused, as though he can’t understand why I’d possibly consider leaving.
When a girl streaks by in nothing but her bra and panties, streaming a roll of toilet paper behind her like another group are doing, I roll my eyes.
“Shawn, as much as I want to be with you tonight, I don’t want to be here. There’s puke on my shoes, gum in my hair, and beer all over my shirt. There’s also blood on my jeans from where you punched a guy. Oh, and I just saw your ex—the one you envisioned a future with—naked on your bed. Pardon me if I don’t feel like hanging around to see what other goodies I might find.”
He grimaces, but overall, he’s still staring at me like I’m the one overreacting.
I don’t want to argue while he’s drunk. That will never end well.
“Go back in and enjoy yourself. I’m going to walk home,” I tell him, forcing a smile.
“Like hell. Beyoncé, I’m not letting you walk home alone. Just give me a damn second, and I’ll walk you back myself.”
People inside start chanting his name. Maybe I am a wet blanket.
“Stay here,” he tells me before turning to head back inside.
Deciding I don’t want him to feel torn about what to do, I wait until he walks in to do whatever it is he’s going to do, and I start sprinting toward my house. It’s not far, and I don’t have to slow down.
By the time I reach my yard, I kick off my ruined shoes, leave them on the front porch, and I head inside to find Bananas has clawed up my leather chair. Drake Sterling needs to get this damn cat out of my house.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I blow out a long breath before reading the message.
ASSHOLE: Where the hell are you?
I guess he just got back outside and discovered me gone.
ME: At home. Enjoy your party. I’ll see you tomorrow.
ASSHOLE: Fine.
Obviously he’s pissed, but he’ll sober up tomorrow and we can have this discussion without the blur of alcohol.
I head to my bedroom, shower, and then crash.
I hope Shawn knows that unless he gets a new bed, he’s never getting laid in his bedroom again. I don’t foresee me forgetting the mental image of Star’s flawless, naked body spread over his bed.
It’s just a phase… Eventually he’ll get tired of the parties, just like everyone else. Then maybe, just maybe, there could be a future.
