What If The Rumors Are True

What If The Rumors Are True


Jamal's car stopped in front of a club, the sleek black vehicle looking out of place among the more modest cars parked along the street. The building before them pulsed with life, neon lights casting colorful reflections on the wet pavement from an earlier rain.

The loud music could be heard from the outside already, the bass thumping through the walls with enough force to vibrate through the ground and into their bones as they sat in the comfortable leather seats of his luxury car.

"I never knew an important figure like you would come to a place like this, won't that bring problems to your company," Queenie asked as they stepped out of the car, her voice carrying over the distant sound of music and laughter that spilled from the club's entrance.

"Is there any rule that states that billionaires can't come to the club," Jamal asked, his tone amused as he handed his keys to the valet who had appeared with the efficiency of someone well-trained in dealing with high-profile clients.

"Not exactly but you would be a role model to people, it would be quite disappointing that you always visit the club to meet your so called female friend," Queenie said, her voice tight with an emotion she was trying hard to disguise as concern for his reputation rather than the jealousy that was eating at her insides.

"Are you bothered by the fact that I come to see my female friend or the fact that I come to the club because if I can say you might be jealous that I'm meeting my female friend in a club," Jamal said, his eyes glittering with amusement as he studied her face in the colorful glow of the neon lights.

Queenie glared at him, her jaw clenching with frustration at his ability to see right through her carefully constructed facade. "I never said so," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive gesture.

"Just because you never said so doesn't mean it's not what you're thinking about," he said, his voice carrying the confident tone of someone who knew exactly what effect he was having on her.

Queenie rolled her eyeballs as they entered the inside of the club, the sudden assault of sound and lights making her squint as her eyes adjusted to the strobing colors and the press of bodies moving to the heavy beat of the music.

But instead of taking the direct door to the main club area they took another passage, this one quieter and more discreet, with thick carpet that muffled their footsteps and elegant lighting that spoke of exclusivity and privacy.

"Welcome Mr. Deveraux, your guest is already waiting," the receptionist said as she handed him a room number, her professional smile and practiced manner suggesting this was a routine she'd performed many times before.

Jamal nodded as they continued walking down the hallway lined with expensive artwork and heavy wooden doors that promised privacy for whatever business was conducted behind them.

"I never knew that you would be meeting your so-called friend in secret, that means you're already familiar here as the receptionist already knew you and your guest really well," Queenie said, her voice dripping with accusation and hurt that she was trying desperately to mask as simple observation.

Jamal only chuckled, the sound low and rich as it echoed off the walls of the private corridor they were walking down.

"Won't I be disturbing you, you shouldn't even bring me here," Queenie muttered, her voice getting smaller as they approached their destination and the reality of what she might be walking into began to settle in her stomach like a cold weight.

"But I brought you so you have to bear with it," Jamal said as they stopped at the door, his hand resting on the brass handle as he looked at her with an expression that was equal parts amusement and something else she couldn't quite identify.

"You should at least consider my feelings, bringing me here to meet your mistress. That's not fair," Queenie muttered, the words slipping out before she could stop them, revealing more of her emotional state than she'd intended.

Jamal looked at her, his expression shifting to something more serious as he took in the genuine hurt in her voice and the way she was trying so hard to appear unaffected when she was clearly anything but.

"Your thoughts are really going wild, you should be rest assured I'll keep my own end of the contract," he said before pushing the door open, his voice carrying a note of something that might have been reassurance.

As they entered, Queenie expected to see a woman in the room, her mind having conjured images of some beautiful, sophisticated female who would make her feel inadequate and out of place, but instead she found a guy sitting comfortably in one of the plush leather chairs that dominated the elegantly appointed private room.

"You came. I thought you'd have forgotten that we always meet here on this day," the guy said, rising from his chair with the easy grace of someone completely comfortable in his own skin and these luxurious surroundings.

"I came so you should be grateful Allan," Jamal said, his voice taking on the easy familiarity of long friendship as he moved into the room like he owned it.

Allan's eyes moved over to Queenie, his gaze curious and appraising but not unkind as he took in her appearance and obvious confusion about the situation she'd found herself in.

"If I'm not mistaken this should be our new latest wife," Allan said walking up to her with a charming smile that suggested he was used to making people feel at ease in social situations.

"Hi I'm Allan, Jamal's childhood friend and best friend," he said, stretching his hand out to Queenie who was confused by what was happening, her mind trying to process this unexpected turn of events.

Jamal shook Allan's hand instead, intercepting the gesture before his friend could make contact with Queenie. "I don't trust you at all to touch my wife, take your eyes off her, Allan," Jamal warned, his voice carrying a possessive edge that surprised even him with its intensity.

"Chill man, I know she belongs to you and isn't for sharing," Allan muttered with good-natured humor, clearly used to his friend's protective instincts when it came to things that mattered to him.

"Nice to meet you too I'm Queenie," she said as she let out a smile, relieved beyond measure that the "female friend" had turned out to be a very male childhood companion rather than the romantic rival she'd been imagining.

"Queenie, the name fits you perfectly, I must say Jamal I've been smitten by your wife," Allan said with the kind of easy charm that probably made him popular at social gatherings and business meetings alike.

Queenie stared at the both men, her mind racing with new questions as she tried to understand the dynamics of their friendship and the secrecy surrounding their meeting. Why was Jamal meeting his friend in a secret room in the club, she wondered, could it be that the rumors were true and he's actually gay, her thoughts spinning in directions she wasn't sure she wanted to explore.