by Shelly Ellis
She had no idea a year ago that her life would turn out this way. But she knew now that life was filled with twists and turns.
She and Keith now lived in her townhome in Chesterton. Three days a week he made the commute to the Stokowski and Hendricks offices in Vienna, Virginia. The other days he worked from home. In a few weeks, he planned to work out of Chesterton permanently. He said he didn’t want to be that far away from Stephanie now that their baby’s birth was drawing closer. Mike didn’t mind losing him. The grizzled ex-cop and private investigator had been walking around with his chest puffed out for the past several months, boasting to everyone who would listen that he was going to be a grandfather soon. Since Mike was the closest thing to a father that Keith had ever known, he would only smile and nod his head when the older man made that strange proclamation.
“Now if only you’d put a ring on that girl’s damn finger, everything would be perfect,” Mike had lectured Keith a week ago.
“I don’t know if Stephanie and I are ready to get married quite yet,” Keith had explained. “Maybe in a year or two.”
Mike had grumbled in response. “Son, you’re living with her and you’re having a baby together. I hate to break it to you, but you are married. You just need to get pen to paper and make it legal.”
Though the future was full of promise for Keith and Stephanie, she knew things weren’t going quite as peachy for Isaac or “Lucas Edwards” according to his birth certificate, which the feds unearthed. The grand jury had met a month ago, examining the evidence in the case of The United States of America v. Lucas Edwards. FBI agents had unearthed a string of cons spanning from California to Puerto Rico that Lucas had committed. They dated as far back as the late ’90s, back when Lucas was a teenager. The handsome conman now faced multiple counts of fraud and embezzlement for his various crimes.
Though his fiancé, Manny, had promised to stick by his side through the whole ordeal, Manny’s promise didn’t last for very long. The developer didn’t like all the negative publicity that came with being engaged to a man who swindled more than thirty lovers out of more than a million dollars in the course of fifteen years. Manny broke off the engagement. He was now dating a nice strapping young man from Orlando whom the shampoo guy Rafael had introduced him to. By all accounts, Manny was happy with his new lover.
No longer having a wealthy benefactor, Lucas had turned to the one person he had always turned to when things got bad for him: his old flame and mentor, Myra Beaumont. But the older woman had meant what she said when she proclaimed that she wasn’t the kind to forgive and forget. She refused all of Lucas’s calls and letters from prison while he awaited trial. (The judge had deemed him a flight risk and he was now being held in a federal penitentiary somewhere in Florida.)
With all the charges he was facing and with so few friends, prospects did not look good for Lucas. Stephanie guessed Keith had been right all along. One day soon, Lucas would be prostituting himself in prison for a pack of cigarettes instead of a Bentley and an ugly-ass silver chain.
Stephanie flipped up the car’s visor and turned to Keith.
“Ready to head inside?” Keith asked, tugging on his wool gloves.
She nodded.
Stephanie and Keith made their way through the foyer and then the corridor that led to the sunroom. On one side of the hallway was a row of windows that brightened the dark corridor with shafts of light. On the other side was a row of portraits of all the Gibbons women, or the “Gibbons family hall of fame,” as they jokingly liked to refer to it. The paintings started with the saucy portrait of Grandma Althea reclined on a white satin chaise with her gray hair falling around her shoulders, and ended with the baby picture of Stephanie’s niece, Clarissa. But spaces would have to be made on the wall now for more portraits since they were adding more members to their clan.
She and Keith stepped out of the corridor into the well-lit sunroom. A seven-foot-tall Christmas tree sat in a far-off corner while baby blue helium balloons dotted the room. A table covered with gift-wrapped packages sat not too far from the tree. Stephanie’s sisters were standing throughout the space. Even Cynthia’s daughter, Clarissa, was there thanks to her winter break from college. Clarissa was turning into quite the sophisticated young lady, and seemed to have inherited her mother’s beauty.
Yolanda Gibbons held center court in the sunroom. The Diahann Carroll look-alike smiled at her family and proudly gazed down at her new grandson.
Yolanda hadn’t been very happy when she heard the news about Keith and Stephanie. Her daughter had hooked up with a detective? A blue-collar man, no less! She didn’t put up too much of a fight about it though. Lauren had already dismayed Yolanda by falling in love with Cris more than a year ago despite her mother’s warnings that loving a man gave him the ultimate power, breaking one of the biggest Gibbons family rules. Yolanda knew now from experience that she faced an uphill battle if she tried to talk Stephanie out of her relationship with Keith.
“You girls and your falling in love!” the elegant older woman had exclaimed with mild exasperation. “Oh, well, at least he’s giving me another grandbaby.”
Though she didn’t exactly welcome Keith with open arms, she tenuously accepted him into her family.
Yolanda was now tickling Crisanto Jr.’s slobbery chin. “That’s Grandma’s baby!” she exclaimed, smiling ear to ear. “Oh, isn’t he just so handsome! You’re going to break all the girls’ hearts when you get older!”
Cris was holding his infant son in his big, strong arms. The petite Lauren stood at his side with a hand draped on his shoulder. The couple painted quite the fetching picture. Lauren looked toward the doorway. Her smile broadened when she saw Keith enter the room, holding Stephanie’s hand. Keith guided the very pregnant woman down the short flight of steps to the sunroom’s terracotta-tiled floor.
“There you guys are!” Lauren shouted as she walked toward them. She kissed Stephanie on both plump cheeks and gave Keith a warm hug. “I wondered when you guys would show up. I’m the one who’s supposed to be late for Saturday brunch, Steph. Not you,” she said with a wink.
Stephanie cupped her hands over her ample belly. “Well, I hate to break it to you, Laurie, but thanks to the extra cargo, I haven’t been able to move very fast lately. It seems like I’m always late now.”
“Yeah, she slows us down a lot,” Keith joked then grimaced when Stephanie playfully slapped him on the shoulder and made a face.
“Well, well, well!” Yolanda said, looking up from her grandson. “You two have finally arrived! I guess we can eat brunch now.” She clapped her hands then gestured toward the center of the room where a large round table sat. “All right, everyone! Quiet down! Quiet down! We’re all here now. Let’s have a seat.”
The throng slowly made their way to the table. Keith held out a chair for Stephanie and she carefully lowered herself into the seat. When she landed, she let out a long breath.
“Are you good?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. I may need help getting up again though.”
He took the chair beside her.
Minutes later, everyone was seated at the table, but it was a tight fit. More bodies had been added and Keith’s and Cris’s broad shoulders seemed to take up more than their share of space.
The walls echoed with the conversations that now filled the room. Yolanda waved to get one of her maids’ attention and motioned for all the water glasses to be filled. Clarissa eagerly reached for the basket of croissants at the center of the table. Keith grabbed a platter of bacon and dropped a few slices on his plate and Stephanie’s. Dawn and Cynthia sat with their heads huddled together, laughing over local town gossip. Cris poured himself a cup of coffee from a sterling silver pot while Lauren held their baby in her arms, whispering softly as she fed Cris Jr. his bottled breakfast.
Stephanie gazed around the table. Yolanda had warned all her girls against falling in love, but Stephanie knew now that love couldn’t be that bad if it broug
ht about something like this. Their brood was expanding and she had a feeling that it would expand even further in the near future. Stephanie wondered what other surprises were in store for the Gibbons girls. Knowing her family, they probably would be big ones.
“What are you smiling about?” Keith asked as he chewed a piece of bacon. He cocked an eyebrow.
Stephanie quickly shook her head. She raised her water glass to her lips. “Nothing. Nothing at all,” she lied, holding in her laughter.
A READING GROUP GUIDE
THE PLAYER & THE GAME
Shelly Ellis
ABOUT THIS GUIDE
The suggested questions that follow are included to enhance your group’s reading of this book.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. Is what Isaac did to Stephanie justified considering her past behavior with men? Why or why not?
2. Should Keith have warned Stephanie about Isaac?
3. There is a reoccurring theme in the Gibbons Gold Digger series of influential father figures: Lauren Gibbons saw Chef Phillip Rochon as her father figure in book 1 (Can’t Stand the Heat), and Mike Stokowski serves as a father figure for Keith in book 2 (The Player & the Game). What role do these men serve for both the characters and plots in the series?
4. Dawn says one of her biggest issues with her nemesis, Sasha, is Sasha’s hypocrisy about her own past promiscuity, and using her body to make her way to the top. Dawn says she has run into many women who are hypocritical like Sasha. Do you think there are more “down low” gold diggers out there than people would like to believe?
5. Myra Beaumont taught Isaac everything he knows about running cons. Is she right to feel angry when he betrays her, or should she have known there’s no honor among thieves?
6. After Keith and Stephanie have sex, he treats her coldly. Are his feelings and behavior toward her justified?
7. Dawn is reluctant to engage in a tryst with the artist, Razor. Is it just the family rules holding her back or is it something else?
8. Keith tells Stephanie that she behaves like a prostitute. She says that he’s just as small minded as the people in Chesterton who unjustly judge her and her family. Is she right?
9. Stephanie decides in the end to take a chance and build a relationship with Keith. Is Dawn right that Stephanie is being naive about the couple’s future considering Stephanie’s past preference for rich, powerful men?
10. Stephanie finally gets a chance to confront Isaac and tells his new lover, Manny, the truth about his past. But Manny ignores her warnings. Was it true love or blind ego that influences Manny’s decision?
Don’t miss the first novel in the Gibbons Gold
Digger series,
Can’t Stand the Heat
Available now wherever books are sold!
Chapter 1
(Unwritten) Rule No. 1 of the Gibbons Family Handbook:
A woman must embody grace, sex, and glamour at
all times. She is the image of perfection in the eyes
of all men around her.
Not feeling very graceful, sexy, or glamorous at this early hour of the morning, Lauren was in no mood to follow the family rules today. Respectfully, the old family handbook could just go to hell right now.
Damn, it’s hot, she thought after she slammed her car door shut with her hip and made a mad dash across the nearly empty parking lot. Rivulets of sweat streamed between her breasts and down her back in the scorching Virginia sun, causing her T-shirt to cling to her like a second skin, making her silently curse her car’s busted AC. Her curvy bottom shimmied as she ran in her khaki shorts.
As sous chef of Le Bayou Bleu, Lauren tried to be one of the first to arrive at the kitchen for prep work for the lunch and dinner service, but she was running a little late today.
“Hey, Lauren!” Malik called out with a smile.
The willowy line cook leaned against the soot-covered brick wall near the doorway. His white short-sleeved shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a white tank top and a pack of cigarettes tucked inside the waistband of his jeans. He tapped his lit cigarette, spilling ashes onto the concrete.
“What’s up, beautiful? You just gettin’ in?” he asked.
“Don’t remind me!” she shouted back with a laugh.
“¡Oye, mi amiga!” shouted Miguel, a plump fry chef who sat kitty-corner to Malik. He was hunched on a wooden crate with his squat legs spread wide. A cigarette hung limply from the side of his mouth.
“Hey, Miguel!” Lauren yelled back.
She didn’t break stride as she spoke, making her way toward the heavy steel door leading to the restaurant’s kitchen. She tugged the door open and stepped inside, letting it slam shut behind her. She was instantly met with the sound of clashing steel, stacking glasses, the steady churn of mixers, oven doors opening and closing, and shouting voices. To her ears, it was more melodious than a Beethoven symphony.
Lauren bypassed the kitchen and went straight to the women’s locker room. She usually shared it with the waitresses and the only other female chef at the restaurant, Paula Wakeman, who was a wizard when it came to pastries. But the room was vacant today. It was dimly lit and smelled of old grease and dirty socks.
She opened her locker door and quickly retrieved a pair of jeans, her apron, and a petite-sized chef’s coat. She took off her strappy sandals and traded them for a pair of sports socks and scuffed tennis shoes from the bottom of her locker. She put on her jeans and pulled back her shoulder-length hair into a ponytail, securing it with a scrunchie she had worn on her wrist. After tying a red bandanna on her head and buttoning her coat, she was ready to go. She climbed over the locker room’s wooden benches with apron in hand and headed to the door. As she neared the exit, she glanced at herself in the room’s only full-length mirror and paused, momentarily transfixed. She stared at her reflection.
Seven months ago, she wouldn’t have been caught dead in her current ensemble. Instead, she would be wearing a tight-fitting, low-cut dress, towering high heels, and jewelry that cost more than what she could now afford with her current monthly paycheck. She wouldn’t be slaving away in the kitchen of Le Bayou Bleu either, but would be one of the restaurant patrons, dining at one of the best tables in the house on her rich boyfriend, James’s, tab.
What a difference seven months can make, Lauren thought.
Back then, she had been the happily “kept” woman she had always been taught to be—going to spas and shopping during the day, pleasing her man at night. That life seemed so long ago and so far away. She had been so scared back then, so worn down by James’s constant browbeating that it had taken her too long to realize that . . .
Lauren shook her head, cutting off those dark thoughts.
“You can take your trip down memory lane another day,” she mumbled to her reflection. She hated to wallow in the past, in self-pity. It was time to move forward. “Time to get to work.”
“Mornin’, guys!” she said as she rushed into the kitchen seconds later, tying her apron around her waist.
“Morning! Mornin’. ¡Buenos días!” a few voices answered in return.
Lauren looked around the room. “Where’s Phillip?” she asked no one in particular. “Anybody seen him around?”
Phillip Rochon was the executive chef of Le Bayou Bleu. The dark-skinned, jolly, loud-mouthed man was from a small town not far from New Orleans, where he had learned to cook gumbo, jambalaya, and crawfish étouffé at his grandmother’s elbow more than forty years ago. He had opened restaurants in New York City, Chicago, and Washington, DC, specializing in a high-end interpretation of down-home Creole cuisine. He had decided last year to open Le Bayou Bleu in Chesterton, Virginia—Lauren’s hometown.
“Has anybody seen Phillip?” Lauren repeated, louder this time, stepping farther into the kitchen.
“I think he’s in the front of the house,” one of the cooks murmured as he laid a series of thinly sliced potatoes onto a cookie sheet covered with wax paper.
“Out front?”
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That was an odd place for Phillip to be. Usually he was elbow to elbow with the other chefs, preparing vegetables, dressings, and pasta dough that would be used later that day. He was a James Beard award winner and had led restaurants with Michelin stars, but Phillip was far from a diva. He believed true head chefs still worked the line and shared celebratory drinks with their staff after a hard day of work.
To leave these guys alone to do prep work, something has to be up, Lauren thought. She walked through the kitchen to the swinging door that led to the front of the house.
Lauren rarely got to see this half of Le Bayou Bleu. Every time she entered it, she would marvel at how beautiful the space was. The tone of the restaurant matched the food that was served there: sophisticated but earthy, cool but classic. The two were a perfect match.
The walls were set with a rich mahogany wood paneling, and over the onyx bar was a huge chandelier dripping with crystal. Along each side wall were booths with cream-colored fabric embellished with a navy blue damask pattern. The back wall of the restaurant was lined with state-of-the-art refrigerators filled with wine bottles that had vintages dating as far back as the early 1900s. At any given time, jazz or soul music would play over the hidden speakers, giving a mellow vibe to the space despite the grandeur of the surroundings.