by nikki blaire
“You know, you don’t sound like a woman who’s just gotten back from her honeymoon.”
She cut her eyes at him. “Excuse me?"
“You just got married and you’re not enjoying it. Why can’t you let it go? You got what you wanted. You’re married to a man who’s probably going to be the mayor soon. What else do you want?”
This back and forth with Vanessa was exhausting. He couldn't take it anymore.
“For you to stop gaslighting me! For you to stop acting like I’m delusional!” She raised her voice.
“You are, Vanessa.” He remained calm, which only made her more upset.
“I am not! I am not, Marc. You think I don’t know that you’ve always compared me to women like her. Like I don’t know that’s why you didn’t want to marry me. I know, Marc. I know exactly what’s been the problem.”
She leaned in closer. “You’ve always had this ideal of who you’ve wanted. Someone who’s just like your mother. Some kind of superwoman who does it all. But look what being superwoman gets you,”
“Don’t do it, Vanessa. Leave now before you say something that you’ll regret.”
He tried to stop her, but she kept on going.
“It gets you a lonely husband who's screwing whoever and a family that’s broken all over the news!”
“You need to leave right now, Vanessa. I’ll have you escorted out.” Marcus’ blood was boiling, but he needed to be cognizant of where he was.
The last thing this firm needed was further media attention for him throwing a former Miss Washington, D.C. and Councilmember’s wife out of his office building.
“Oh, don’t you worry. I’m leaving.” She stood up.
“You’re pathetic,” was all that he could say without calling her out of her name.
“I’m pathetic? Me?”
“Damn, right. You’re a married woman, here, in my office, yelling about a woman who doesn’t spend any of her time thinking about you.”
His face was still as stone, while she pursed her lips and fumed.
“Fuck you, Marc.” She hissed.
“That’s what’s got you so bent out of shape now.” His expression was cold, which made Vanessa start to tear up.
She stood in front of him for another moment then walked towards the door. He didn’t even bother to watch her leave.
*****
“Bebelle.” Alphonse Lageaux stood up to greet his daughter once she approached his usual table in his favorite Ethiopian restaurant.
He wore a big smile as he hugged Charlisse tightly. “Bebelle” meant “doll” in the broken French that her father often slipped in and out of his English.
“Hey, Daddy.” Charlisse fell into his arms, thankful for his comfort after a long day.
Moments like this made her want to go back home.
“Did you already order?” She looked at the table that was covered with various dishes of food.
“Just a couple things. I hadn’t eaten all day and the smells were making my stomach rumble.”
He playfully patted himself, while Charlisse sat down. A waiter quickly approached to take her order then scurried out of sight.
“How was your flight, Daddy?” She asked once they were alone again.
He shook his head. “Just fine. I don’t know why they insist on getting those first-class seats. All I do is sleep.”
“And your hotel? Is it to your liking?”
“Yeah, yeah. They’ve got me in a suite in the same hotel as the conference. Again, a waste if all I’m going to do is sleep. You’re still my date for the gala, right?”
“Of course, Daddy. I wouldn’t miss it. You’re getting the Thurgood Marshall award from the American Bar Association. It's a big deal.”
“Is it?” He shrugged.
Her father had always been very humble, almost nonchalant about his achievements. All of her life, Charlisse was aware that her father was “important” due to the way people spoke to them, the awaiting cars in front of their house that drove them around, or other subtle clues. However, he would always say that he was just doing his job.
“Daddy.” She shot him a look.
“I know it’s important and I’m grateful, but I don’t like to get too caught up in these things. You know that. An award is just an award.”
“But you’re getting it for pushing the bench to stop using money bail in Louisiana. The practice is heinous and leaves a whole bunch of people sitting in jail just because they’re poor.”
“Bebelle, I did what needed to be done. That’s all.” He eyed her. “Doing what needs to be done is its,”
“Own reward.” She finished for him.
Her father had been saying that phrase her entire life.
“That’s right, bebelle. So, while I appreciate it, I don’t need no got damn ABA that barely wanted Blacks in the first place to tell me that I’m doing a good job. All I need is the prettiest girl in the world to join me as my date.”
“I’ll be there with bells on.” She grinned at him just as her food was placed in front of her.
“So, what’s new? What have I missed?” He clasped his hands together.
“We talk all of the time, Daddy.” She laughed. “Nothing’s happened in two days.”
She dug her fork into her plate then scooped the food to her mouth. Her eyes closed as she swallowed her first meal for the day, her stomach eternally grateful.
“Oh, I do have a new client.” She finally thought to mention.
“That is something new.” He shined his eyes at her. “Who’s mess are you cleaning up now?”
Humor gleamed bright in her father’s kind eyes. Looking at them was like looking in the mirror. She was her father’s spitting image. They both had dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and skin the color of coffee with too much cream in it.
“You know I can’t tell you exactly who, Daddy. Client confidentiality.”
“Confidentiality, smintiality,” He waved his fork in her face. “Give me a hypothetical.”
“Well,” She paused in an attempt to think of just what to say without laughing at her father’s antics.
“Hypothetically, a well-known company, may or may not be dealing with some allegations in the media.”
“Ah, c’mon bebelle, that’s not any good.” He shook his head. “Good thing you didn’t go into the legal profession.”
He grinned then turned the conversation to things that were happening in their neighborhood back in New Orleans. Charlisse giggled at her father’s impressions of their neighbors, family, and friends as he recounted what she had missed since her last visit home.
“No, not Mrs. Bordeaux, she was with the gardener?” Charlisse gasped.
“Yes ma’am. John found her and him in the guesthouse. As old as she is, that young man must’ve been hard up.”
His chuckle grew to a strong belly laugh that made Charlisse join in.
“That Mrs. Bordeaux has always been a firecracker. I’m sure he was drawn to her personality.” Charlisse sighed, as her laughter subsided.
Her father eventually settled back into his meal and a comfortable silence fell over the two of them for a while until he started up the conversation again.
“I ran into Greg at the grocery store. He seems to be doing well. He didn’t ask about you, but I could tell that he wanted to."
“Greg?” Charlisse looked up.
Greg Chapman was her ex-fiancé. They met on the New Orleans social scene, during one of her father’s fundraisers. They dated for several years before getting engaged, but called it off after a year of being long distance. That was four years ago.
“It’s great to hear that he’s doing well.” She smiled genuinely.
Greg had been good to her, but ultimately, they realized that they wanted two different lives. The long-distance had made it easy to cherish their moments together without ever really discussing their wants and needs.
Charlisse assumed that Greg would learn to accept and understand her ambitions. Greg
assumed that Charlisse would move back home to Louisiana. Unfortunately, neither was true.
However, they were only two months from walking down the aisle before either realized this about each other. Calling off the wedding was one of the hardest things that Charlisse had ever done. The flooding feelings of embarrassment and failure swarmed over her while she momentarily relived that time in her life.
Neither she nor Greg wanted to face the music, especially since they both still loved each other. But, they had to move on and worked hard to cut ties. It was not easy after having been together for so long, but they were both better of for it.
“Yeah, he’s a good kid.” His father surmised then reached for her hand. “I’m very proud of you. Your mother would be proud of you.”
“You think so?” She asked, forcing herself to look at him as small tears began to well in her eyes.
Charlisse fought against them, but still a single teardrop graced her cheek.
“I know so.”
Her mother was a touchy subject for her. Marjorie's breast cancer diagnosis had come during her teenage years, which meant that the two of them often bickered at that time.
She always thought that her mother would pull through. As a teenager, she had no real concept of death. Charlisse often asked herself if her mother really knew the impact that she had on her life before she passed. Unfortunately, moments like ending her engagement, or her situation with Marcus now, made her feel as if she wasn't living up to what her late mother expected of her.
“I don't always feel like it.” She started to wipe her face, but her father beat her to it.
“Everyone feels that way sometimes, Bebelle. We all fall short, but we should measure ourselves by how we recover from our mistakes.”
Charlisse grew quiet again. How could she recover from the tangled web that she had weaved with Marcus? Today had been awkward, especially seeing Vanessa come to visit him.
She had done a lot to push that image out of her mind. For a second, she wondered if he had replaced her that quickly. Had Marcus run back to Vanessa already?
It doesn’t matter.
She reminded herself, but it did. It mattered a lot.
Charlisse and her father finished dinner then he had his driver drop her off at her condo. She walked up the stairs quietly then threw herself onto her bed once she was in the comfort of her own home.
Her body twitched as she fought the reflex to check her phone before going to bed. She knew that it wasn’t just to read emails. It was to see if Marcus had contacted her since she left the office.
Yes, she had rebuffed him but a smidge of her wanted him to still try to get her attention. Marcus was a handsome and wealthy man who was used to getting everything that he wanted, including Charlisse.
“This is silly.” She sighed then sat up to undress.
She had always been decisive and sure of everything her entire life, but now she was flip flopping at every turn. Marcus was having an effect on her and she was fighting every day to keep it at bay.
Eight
The sound of Charlisse’s phone ringing hit her ears and lulled her out of her sleep. Instinctively, she rolled over and scooped it up after looking at Terry’s name on the screen.
“Please don’t start my day with bad news.” She groaned once she picked up the phone.
However, she already knew that whatever he had to say was going to be a problem. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be calling at the crack of dawn.
“Nexlon is doing a press conference this morning. A media advisory was just sent out.” He got straight to the point.
“About what?” She leaned over to turn on her bedside table lamp.
She was still slightly asleep.
“No idea, but it ain’t anything to pass over if it’s being trotted out like this.” He smacked his teeth.
“You’re right.” She pushed aside the last of her tiredness then got out of bed and went straight to her closet.
“Mhmmm, and I’ll keep my line open for any responses from Forde Financials' that may or may not find their way to my inbox.”
“You do that.” She pulled out a dress then tossed it on her bed before hanging up.
“Fuck.” She sighed at all of the possible things that could come out of Nexlon’s mouth this morning.
Undoubtedly, it would be a curveball to Forde Financials. She had to tell her client immediately and couldn’t deal with Marcus, Sr.’s uneven temperament. She didn’t need ranting and raving right now. She needed sensible strategy, which meant she could only call one person.
“Marc,” She called out as soon as he picked up. “We have a problem.”
“Of course we do. There’s no other reason for you to call me before the sun is up.” He sighed.
She could hear how pensive he was in his voice. “Go ahead, give it to me.”
“Nexlon is doing a press conference this morning. I’m not sure of the details, but I don’t think this is going to go well for the firm.”
“But you’d said that we had the upper hand in the media since we’d released a statement first.” He yawned.
“Yes, and we did. But things change, especially if Nexlon starts spewing out lies...or sharing something that neither of us knew about.”
Marcus was silent on the other end for a beat before letting out a long sigh.
“You think they’re going to say something that proves my father’s been lying?”
“Possibly.” Charlisse was in her bathroom now, unwrapping her hair and throwing on a touch of makeup.
She had to get in front of a television with Marcus as soon as possible.
“Or it could be some other bombshell. Either way, this press conference means they’ve finally got their story together. And it’s probably going to be something that we don’t like.”
“I’m so tired of this shit.” Marcus was weary, but forced himself to pull it together. “Alright. What do I need to do?”
“Where’s your father? We need to get to the office, so we can strategize and be prepared for whatever is said,”
“I don’t know where he is.” He cut her off. “The sun’s not even up, Charlisse.”
“Well, call him. He listens to you with less back and forth. I need my eye on him. I don’t want him making statements or anything before,”
“Getting to our office will take too long. You live close to me, so just come here. I’ll call him and our attorney. I’m texting you my address.”
He hung up, leaving Charlisse alone with her rampaging thoughts, while she continued to get ready.
This press conference was definitely a smoke screen. Charlisse had used this tactic before with her own clients when telling anything to the public was better than telling the truth. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book.
“The only thing bigger than an affair and embezzlement is a conspiracy.” She said to herself, as she pulled on her heels to leave.
Marcus, Sr. had promised at length that he was telling the truth, but her faith in his story was dissipating as she raced out of the door.
“Let’s just hope he has coffee.” She mused to herself on the way out, but was disappointed once she stepped into Marcus’ house and didn’t smell coffee brewing.
“Sorry, I don’t drink it.” He shrugged nonchalantly, while he led her to the kitchen. “There’s a coffee machine or espresso whatever in there, but I don’t know how to work it.”
“Wow.” Charlisse rolled her eyes at his indifference. “Why do you have it, but don’t know how to work it?”
She glared at him then back at the stainless steel machine that she also had no idea how to operate.
“You know what, never mind. Were you able to get a hold of anyone?”
She turned to follow Marcus out of the kitchen.
“Not my dad, if that’s what you’re asking.” He sighed in frustration, while he led her to a room with a television screen that spanned the length of the wall.
“I called a couple of times and got no a
nswer, so I sent him a text and left a voice message. Our attorney answered, so I said I’d keep him updated. He’ll also be watching it.”
“Your dad is always MIA when things like this happen. That’s not good.” Charlisse bit her bottom lip. “But, we’ll deal with it. Just you and me.”
She sat her bag on a nearby table then settled in for a long morning.
“Try to hold in your excitement.” Marcus stood next to her. “Is that okay with you or are you uncomfortable?”
“No, it’s fine. Why would I be uncomfortable?” She faced him, but soon looked away after he arched an eyebrow at her.
Instead of answering, Marcus just turned the TV to the right channel. They stood, waiting, until the screen flashed with the breaking news. Margaret Winters, CEO of Nexlon, walked to a podium flanked by staff and attorneys. She looked visibly sullen as she positioned the microphone then opened her mouth.
“What an act. I’ve never seen her be anything other than loud and brazen.” Marcus pointed at the screen.
Charlisse watched carefully to analyze every detail because there was a purpose for everything, even down to the light pink suit that Ms. Winters was wearing.
“She’s trying to project an image of feminine innocence.” Charlisse unintentionally shared her thoughts out loud, as she took mental notes.
“Can you record this?”
“Yeah, sure.” He pushed a button on the remote then went back to glaring at the screen.
They watched, while Margaret began to address the crowd that huddled in front of her.
“I am aware of the rumors and speculation.” She began. “And while it has pained me, my family, and this company to hear such allegations, I can only blame myself.”
She chose that moment to look away from the camera, as if she was too emotional to continue.
“I can no longer be silent. I must share the truth about the nature of my relationship with Mr. Marcus Forde, Sr., the CEO of Forde Financials, Inc. I first met Mr. Forde five years ago at a conference. We began a cordial relationship and I grew to respect his business acumen.”
“I can’t believe this.” Marcus sneered, while Charlisse held in a scoff. “I can’t fuckin believe this.”