Free GHETTO SUPERSTAR by Nikki Turner Page B

watching him, but even more so, he liked the way their women watched him put on a show, wishing like hell that they were in Fabiola's shoes.
    Fabiola held her own, off to the side, playing her position as if she was the queen of the place. Every so often G.P. would go over with the photographer in tow to snap some shots with her and him or her and Shug.
    They partied, popped bottles, and danced the night away at the picture booth.
    After the last call for alcohol, Shug left and Fabiola whispered in his ear as he held a bottle in hand, “Boo, I'm ready for my steak dinner.”
    G.P. put his arm around Fabiola and handed a guy their coat-check tickets. He began to give dap to all his homeboys and when their coats came, he helped Fabiola into hers and strutted out of the club with Fabiola on his shoulder as if she was his trophy.
    The valet guy had the plum-colored Lexus truck dead in front of the club, so they didn't have to walk far to get in.
    Once they had got to his house, Fabiola took her boots off while G.P. slipped on some sweats.
    As Fabiola went to drop her overnight bag off in his room, G.P. realized that he hadn't taken the steaks out of the freezer earlier that day. While G.P. was waiting for the steaks to defrost, he tried his hand at seducing Fabiola, but she shut him down.
    “A deal is a deal.” She was as cold to that idea as the meat on the counter.
    “Come on, baby.”
    “I'm still hungry. I'm starving,” she said.
    “A'ight, Boo, so let's make the compromise.”
    “Here we go.” She sucked her teeth. “I'ma tell you right now, I am not going to eat no daggone peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
    “I wouldn't do that to my boo. Not my superstar. My songbird.” He leaned in and kissed her. “I got something better than that.”
    “What?”
    “How about I'll run down the street and get some Chinese food and you freshen up so that I can have you fo dessert.”
    “Sounds like a plan,” she said as she batted her long eyelashes at him.
    He extended his pinky finger and she did the same, so that they could seal the deal. “Bet.”
    He put on his sneakers and got in his car to head to the Chinese restaurant. Before he reached the corner, he was ringing her cell phone.
    “Hey, Boo,” she answered when she saw it was G.P. calling. “I'm trying to clean the bathtub out. When the last time you took a bath in this thing?”
    “I'm a man—I take showers. Baths is for broads.”
    “Oh, whatever!”
    “So, how about a little phone sex? Give me a preview and convince me to hurry up and come back.”
    “You gone come back anyway, right?”
    “You know that.”
    “Well, I could hit you off with a little sumthin', sumthin' now, I suppose,” Fabiola purred as she got up to head back into the bedroom.
    G.P. started to undo his pants, causing him to swerve and almost hit another car that was speeding in the opposite direction. “Shit, motherfuckers niggas,” he spat.
    “What's wrong, baby?” Fabiola asked.
    “Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about,” he said. “The only thing you need to be worrying about right now is me. Now, wassup?”
    “Wassup is I'm touching myself right now and I want you to do the same,” Fabiola said as she put her hands under her shirt and began to cup her breasts, rubbing her fingers over her hardening nipples. “Stroke yourself for me, baby. Pretend like it's me touching you. Does that feel good?”
    “Shit, girl, you're gonna make me have an accident.” G.P started to sweat as he moved his hand up and down his shaft.
    “Naw, baby. Keep yourself in one piece, 'cause I'ma tear youup when you get home,” she whispered seductively. Just then she heard something downstairs. The door squeaked like it did earlier when they came in. “Damn, that didn't make you come back home, did it?”
    “What? What you mean? I told you that I was going to get the food, right?”
    “Isn't that you downstairs? Because there's somebody down there.”
    “Hell naw,