Malcolm Love Again

1. Auflage 2020
ISBN: 978-1-913090-45-6
Verlag: Jacaranda Books
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 432 Seiten

Reihe: Twenty in 2020

Honey Fontaine has spent much of her adult life dodging her mother's attempts to marry her off, and has had enough. Her mother, having changed her own life by marrying into comfort and means, is determined to find a similar suitable match for her daughter, much to Honey's distress. At her wits end, Honey decides to enlist the support of Ashley Elliot, a well-off club owner and determined flirt, who will pretend to be Honey's man. Ashley is not Honey's usual type, but she finds herself increasingly drawn to him and what a relationship with him could be like. When the latest of her mother's picks proves to be unexpectedly attractive to her, Honey finds herself suddenly forced to have to make a choice. Stability or passion, comfort or risk? What will Honey do?

RASHEDA ASHANTI MALCOLM is a writer, a playwright and the founder of the Candace Magazine, aimed at women of colour. Her initiative was rewarded by many prizes, including the Black Business Woman of the Year, the National Black Women Achievement Award and more recently, the Pandora Award for Publishing.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Malcolm, Rasheda Ashanti

Leseproben

Two

August in London usually meant one big, exciting event. Notting Hill Carnival. Honey and her closest friends, Fatty and Zhara, bubbled with excitement as they squeezed into their carnival costumes, preparing for the float. The skimpy costumes left very little to the imagination, in true carnival style. Honey felt self-conscious in her red, green and gold bikini, beaded colourfully around the shape of her breasts.

‘Hey Hon, you should stick some beads around your cookie area,’ she pointed to Honey’s privates. ‘Be daring, it will go with the top.’

Honey shook her head in horror. ‘No way, I feel like a hooker as it is—this is my daring. I feel completely naked.’

‘It’s your first time on a float—you’re supposed to be near to naked. And when them hot guys start rubbing up on you, you gyrate back.’ Fatty took her waist and hips slowly around a figure eight, and back again.

‘Like this,’ Zhara said, her high pert backside shaking as she twerked. She was at least 5’11 and her twerking was rigid and hilarious.

Fatty laughed, holding up a hand for a high five with Zhara, both now screaming with laughter.

‘I’m not having any strange man rubbing his self on me,’ Honey huffed, giving Fatty a sharp look.

Fatty bounced Honey with a flick of her hip. ‘Lighten up, Hon. Za is the Muslim here and she ain’t complaining, she’s twerking.’

‘It’s a bit of fun, Hon,’ Zhara laughed lightly, placing a butterfly mask on her face. ‘This is so my brothers don’t recognise me as I give it all I got on the float.’

‘Za, isn’t this Haram? An insult to Islam?’ Honey berated. ‘And who’s going to miss a tall girl like you, you can’t hide.’

‘You should try risk, Miss Goody-Goody.’ Zhara danced around Honey, rubbing her generous breasts against her.

‘Come,’ Fatty grabbed her friends, ‘let’s go float.’

The loud music ringing out from the steel pans, the rowdy out of tune singing from the revellers and a few coconut rum punches finally influenced Honey to throw caution to the wind and enjoy herself. The barbecue chicken smell and smoke reminded her that her stomach was empty, but the soca music saturating the streets of Notting Hill pulled her arms, legs and backside into action. As the floats snaked their way around the crowded parade route, the London sky was clear and blue and the sun, like all the revellers, was bright and showing off.

‘See how much fun you’re having,’ Fatty shouted in Honey’s ear, taking her hands and twirling her around. Zhara joined them and began twerking. A group of young men circled them, cheering them on, as the three girls moved sensuously against each other.

‘Every man’s fucking fantasy,’ Fatty laughed, pouring a splash from her cup over Honey’s partially covered breast before running her tongue briefly across her chest. This brought great groans and cries for ‘more’ from the circling males and when Zhara bent over, placing both hands on the floor of the float to twerk, Fatty placing her hands on her bottom, all hell broke loose as revellers, male and female, started gyrating on each other to the sound of the pans.

‘Hey, Fats, what’s up?’

All three friends looked around and Honey found herself being swallowed by a pair of liquid amber coloured eyes, made sensuous by long curly lashes, and a smile that gave way to a dimple in his chin.

‘Oh shit, Ash. Okay, okay. Honey Elizabeth Fontaine this is Ashley Elliott, or Ash if you like. Ash, this is Honey, the girl you were born to love. He’s been wanting an introduction to you—’

‘I’ve been waiting over three months,’ Ashley cut in, his eyes unwavering as he continued to soak Honey up.

Honey looked bemused.

‘I’ll explain it to you later,’ Fatty smiled cheekily.

‘You’ll explain it now!’ Honey growled.

‘Oh Hon, get off that high horse—this guy,’ she pointed to an amused Ashley, ‘is a successful businessman. He owns A One Studios and Club 21. He’s rich!’

‘And?’ Honey quizzed, unimpressed.

‘He, like so many others that I haven’t told you about, has the hots for you. He wanted an intro, that’s all.’

‘Fatty!’ Honey exclaimed in a pained whisper.

‘Hi Ash,’ Zhara took a step closer to him. ‘Long time no see.’

Ashley’s eyes held Honey. Even when he was in conversation with Zhara.

‘Za, shouldn’t you be wearing a hijab? Your brothers know you’re in the west?’

Zhara gave him a friendly shove. ‘You know I live with my mum. So, you want to meet our Honey,’ she teased.

‘He wants to do more than meet her.’ Fatty started dancing suggestively.

‘You need my permission to introduce me to anyone,’ Honey snapped. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her and she liked it even less that she was near to naked under his gaze.

‘Lighten up, Hon. The richest guy in West London wants an intro and you want to act like a snob!’

Ashley laughed, his gaze openly appreciative of Honey. ‘I’m far from the richest guy, but now’s not a good time,’ he smiled, ‘too much noise. A good time will come. I’ll be seeing you, Miss Honey Elizabeth Fontaine.’

They watched as he climbed down from the float and disappeared into the crowd that lined the streets and the pavement.

‘Fatty!’ Honey turned on her. ‘How could you do something so ridiculously childish?’

‘It ain’t childish, Hon. A man like Ashley Elliott wants an intro to you... it’s like a fucking miracle. He don’t need to, girls throw themselves at his feet. He can have his pick of any but he seems to prefer his own company, or his little sister.’

Zhara sighed. ‘I would marry Ashley.’

Fatty jumped up and down with laughter, swaying as the float went over a bump in the road. ‘Don’t be fucking crazy. Ash wouldn’t give a girl like you a second glance, Za—he has a kind, more like Honey. He goes for classy chicks. You’d be left heart-broken.’

Honey frowned. ‘And I won’t? You want him to break my heart?’

Fatty grabbed her and started dancing; ‘He wouldn’t get close enough to break your fucking heart, Hon. You got some serious ice packs in your chest and I know Ash won’t find it easy to get you. You’re made of icy frost, Za of candy floss; she disintegrates when she’s in love and she falls for fools all the time.’

The Carnival after party was taking place at Club 21. Honey, Fatty and Zhara jumped off the float on St Charles Road, taking the back route into Shepherds Bush where they made their way towards Fatty’s home on the estate and changed out of the skimpy carnival costumes, donning light blue faded jeans and white fitted tank tops with white Nike trainers. Honey styled both her friends’ hair, before turning the straightening tongs on her own, ironing out all her curls. They posed in the mirror, looking at themselves and each other, then took pictures.

‘I wish I could lose some weight,’ Fatty pulled in her bulging stomach. ‘You two look so slim and sexy.’

‘Lots of men like fat girls,’ Zhara empathised. ‘You’re sexy too,’ she squeezed Fatty’s breast.

‘You need to eat more green foods and less of the white foods,’ Honey told her.

‘The two of you can suck my dick!’ Fatty spat with good humour. ‘Za looks like a spaghetti, Honey you look like a cucumber and me, I look like a melon.’

In the dark, smoky atmosphere vibrating with heavy bass music, the girls created a space for themselves just by Fatty’s bold walk. They settled in the corner by a huge speaker box.

‘Look,’ Fatty pointed out to Honey, ‘there’s Ash on stage.’ Honey saw his tall, lean figure dressed in denim, dreadlocks bouncing on his shoulder as he danced across the stage.

‘What the hell is he doing?’ Honey couldn’t help her amusement.

‘It’s one of his clubs—he always gets the crowd wild.’

And he did, Honey observed. There were girls trying to climb on the stage, one successful who made a dash to throw her arms around him, only to be dragged away screaming by the security.

‘What’s so great about him?’ Honey asked. She didn’t like this kind of music. She didn’t mind soca and reggae, rare groove, but this was something else.

‘He owns this fucking club, Hon. He owns the most successful studio in West London, he can have any girl but he wants you... he’s got it bad for you.’

‘That doesn’t make him great.’

‘Those girls think so.’

‘And they’re experts in what?’

After two hours Honey was ready to go, but could see Fatty and Zhara were nowhere near. She eased through the crowd, signalling to Fatty that she was going outside. The fresh, cool air was welcoming and she walked to stand around the corner from the main door, leaning against the brick wall with her eyes closed. It had been a long day, starting at 5:15am with the finishing touches to their...