by C. L. Donley
I huff a laugh through my salad. I’m impressed. Relieved she wasn’t out there joining in the gossip.
“Nice,” I say.
Amara smiles.
“It’s not true, you know,” I defend myself.
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, girl. I get it.”
“There’s nothing to explain, because it’s not true.”
“I know,” Amara says. I don’t think she believes me, but she doesn’t want to fight me on it.
“I was just… embarrassed,” I continue.
Amara sighs. “You know Grayson is extra special, girl. He didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“What did he mean?”
“He was… trying to turn you off of the idea in case it was true. By being a jerk.”
“Um, good job I guess?”
“I don’t know what to say. They’re not usually like this.”
“Your boy Dale is…”
“Observing you,” Amara finishes.
“Ummm, I was gonna say corny as fuck.”
“He’s not usually like that.”
“Is anyone their usual self tonight?”
“I just mean with you… he doesn’t know you, so, he’s basically just trying to be nice, while also making the rest of us laugh.”
I scoff. “Whenever I talk to him he’s over the top, bending over backwards to not offend me, being corny. And then I turn my back and apparently he’s doing the complete opposite.”
“He finds you interesting,” Amara insists.
Huh?
“Is that what you got from that? They’re clearly all laughing at me.”
“Oh, I think Kim earned the majority of that laughter,” Amara jokes.
“Yeah, what was that about?” I say, sounding offended.
“They’re just being guys. How do you expect them to respond to Kim’s craziness?”
I shake my head and roll my eyes. My heartbeat accelerates as Amara defends her new family across the board. Clearly, she’s team billionaires now. As much as I expect it, the reality still throws me for a loop.
“So you’re just defending them no matter what, then.”
“I understand their side, and I understand your side.”
“What side? They’re a bunch of rich jerks.”
“What does being rich have to do with it?” Amara protests. I try to ignore it.
“Plenty. And Bryan’s freakin’ wanna be ass… never mind on that one,” I smack my lips.
“Good call, Mya,” Amara tries not to seem sarcastic but she apparently can’t help it.
Calmly I put my salad down, even though part of me wants to start looking up flights home. I’m sick with disillusionment. I know Amara wants to avoid confrontation this entire weekend but we keep flying straight into it, no matter what happens. I take a minute to search my feelings, try to say something that won’t make Amara cry, which will likely be impossible, but I try it anyway.
“Look, I know you’re part of this world now, and I get that I don’t know it as well as you. But I feel like I’m out here by myself, while you’re in there with them.”
I watch as Amara slowly breaks down at my confession, her face crumpling into a thousand words.
Welp, it was worth a shot.
“Your friendship means more to me than anyone else in the world. More than Kim’s, you know that,” she begins. I reach behind the couch for tissues.
“But the relationship I have with Grayson, with my baby… it’s not as long, but it’s deeper. Do you know what I mean?”
“No,” I confess, “but I can guess.”
“That doesn’t mean that I care more about them than I do about you, but,” Amara grabs a tissue, “I can’t just be neutral when you talk about them. It’s like I feel it myself. And I feel it very deeply. Even if I don’t want to, I’m just… connected to them now. Deeper, I hate to say, than I am to you.”
Well, shit.
So that’s that. At least she isn’t in denial about it. I can feel my lower lip trembling and I grab a tissue. It’s my turn to break down.
“Shit, I’m not explaining this right,” Amara backtracks.
“No— you are, and it’s real, and it’s just…making me sad.”
“I just wanted to treat you guys to something awesome, while I rub my amazing marriage in your face, and hope that it’s awesome enough that you don’t hate me for it.”
I laugh. We all suspected as much.
Well that wasn’t too bad. I’m glad we decided to air some things out and I’m feeling lighter already. Now we can enjoy the weekend.
“I am so, so happy for you. Really,” I dissolve into tears again, feeling confessional. “You’re a mom! I can’t even believe it,” I say.
“I want the same thing for you,” Amara says and it comes out in a whisper. I know how much she means it. I grab another tissue.
“Me too,” I say.
“It’ll happen. Soon. I know it,” Amara says cryptically.
After a moment the sniffles die down and I begin again.
“I think right now I’ll settle for getting laid.”
Amara sits up and raises an eyebrow. She apparently didn’t suspect that I had a plan. There was a day when simply being in the vicinity of any penises mandated such a plan.
“Don’t act brand new, what did you think we’ve been doing?” I grin.
“I thought we were finding you a soulmate.”
I smack my lips. “Girl, my soulmate is not in Spain.”
“Oh, so this is happening this weekend, then,” Amara starts to catch on to my wicked idea.
“Of course,” I furrow my brow like I’m a known freak. But Amara just gives me a laugh as though she thinks I’m soo cute. Okay, bitch, clearly you’ve been to the mountaintop. Good for you.
“Well, I know you’re gonna balk at it but… you gotta pick Dale,” she says.
I roll my eyes yet again.
“You mean the one that likes to talk shit about me when my back is turned?”
“That would be the one.”
“Corny,” I answer.
“Don’t let him fool you, girl. I have heard the stories, okay.”
“What stories?”
Amara tilts her head suddenly and gives me a look, a million forbidden implications in it.
“Grayson was a playboy, but who do you think was breaking all the ice for that weirdo?”
“By being corny?” I assume, refusing to think of Dale the way she wants me to.
“Yeah. And then he… did the damn thing,” Amara insists.
“Really,” I say, sounding unimpressed. He’s not even in the running, so I can’t imagine why any of this matters. Amara heard what he said at dinner. She goes on with her pitch anyway.
“Yes. I really wanted to wait for Kim before we get into this but… Dale knows what the fuck to do, I promise.”
“Girl, you know he’s not my type. And I’m pretty sure I’m not his type.”
“He apparently thinks you’re beautiful,” she says. The way she says it, I really get the impression that it’s lowkey a big deal, to the point that I can’t stifle a smile, even as I roll my eyes. Amara continues. “Besides, I thought you said your soul mate wasn’t here?”
“Yeah but… we should at least probably like each other. What about your boss?”
“Ew, Bel??” Amara replies ridiculously.
I freeze with my brow furrowed.
“Uh, yes. He’s beige and sexy. You know I love a man with meticulous dreads,” I say.
For some reason, I’m feeling too shy to go into my honest first impression about being in the presence of Bel Hafiz for the first time. His dark hair and carmelly skin makes him look like he could be from anywhere in the world. His grey eyes are stunning and he exudes pure power, though his movements are gentle and elegant. He looks hot in pictures and on tv, and now I’m finding out first hand that the camera actually fucking hates him.
“That’s true…but you know Middle Eastern
is Kim’s thing.”
“Like you said, Kim ain’t here,” I protest.
“He’s richer than Grayson, you know that?” she volunteers.
“Off of fuckin’ cat videos?!”
“By like, twenty billion. He makes like $100 per second. No exaggeration.”
I laugh. “Your life is completely unbelievable.”
“I know, right,” she says, sounding like her old self. I’m glad she still agrees.
“Anyway, I don’t know how I’m going to even face them tomorrow, let alone think about sleeping with one of them,” I confess, thinking dismally about the awkwardness of my immediate future.
“Oh girl, don’t even worry about that. I will make sure that they are groveling this entire weekend.”
For old time’s sake, Amara stays in my room for the night.
I manage about five hours of sleep before there’s a sudden knock at the door.
I thought it would be the nanny, but when I see Kim Pritchard standing before me looking every inch of the diva she is, as though she didn’t just take an 8 hour flight and it wasn’t 2am according to her body, I lose all decorum.
“THIS, BITCH,” I stand in front of my hotel room door with an exaggerated faux attitude.
“Aw hell, I thought this was the billionaire’s room,” Kim says, dismissive.
Amara
On the couch in Mya’s room, I slowly wake to the sound of women’s squealing laughter and know instantly what’s happening.
Kimberly Pritchard is here.
I think about joining them in the hallway but instead I watch them outside the open door from my place on the couch.
I think back to a twelve year old Mya and Kim welcoming me to a new school almost fifteen years ago. We made eye contact in art class and I made a beeline for their table.
“We’re the outcasts,” they said.
I smile at the memory, looking on from the couch with a relieved breath.
Kim is here.
Kim is going to make this weekend right.
We get ready and make our way downstairs to the hotel’s half empty bar and lounge to eat and then take the hour long flight to rehearsal.
The Spanish hotel lounge is all luxurious, somewhat masculine golds and browns, kind of like the luxurious box seats at a racetrack Grayson took me to once. It’s curved and has floor to ceiling windows on one side, a large bar near the entrance and about a dozen square seating areas, each with two sets of armchairs facing one parallel and two couches facing the other. Sam and I and Rosetta occupy one couch near the front while Kim and Mya sit in two leather chairs next to us.
Kim reapplies her bright red lipstick that sings against the gold of her skin undertoned with olive. She wears a daring, tight blue and white striped tube dress that was demure at the top and went down to the knee— the dress made daring by the stripes’ vertical pattern. Kim wears it with ease. Her impossibly large gold hoop earrings are just tacky enough to dress the outfit down to an appropriate level for morning. Her hair is in a delightfully messy french twist. Her presence gives me that surreal feeling that happens when you see old friends in a new context of your life. It also feels like she’s always been here. But of all the worlds I’ve been waiting to watch collide, this one I have the highest hopes for. And of course, Kim doesn’t disappoint.
“So which one is mine?” she asks.
“You know we told them all about your little plan,” Mya divulges.
“Bitch, good. Saves me the small talk,” Kim says.
“Let’s discuss which one is not yours for a moment, and that would be the hottest one,” I say as I hold Sam over my shoulder to burp him, knowing what Kim is referring to.
“Listen, if he’s all like that in person, I can’t make no promises.”
“You can and you will. He hasn’t had sex in two and a half weeks. I should’ve made you change your damn clothes.”
“Girl, you gotta watch your man like that?!” Kim shakes her head disapprovingly.
“Just keep your loose cannon ass away from my man, Kim,” I say, only half joking. Mya’s giggling at the exchange.
“Oh shit, is that him?” Kim half whispers.
“Girl, no that’s Bryan what’s wrong with your eyes,” I say, as if the idea of being married to Bryan is ridiculous. Bryan walks out of the elevators and smiles at us once he reaches the lounge. I stand to greet him.
“Kim’s here!” I enthusiastically announce. Kim stands and I gesture for Bryan to introduce himself.
“Bryan. It’s a pleasure,” he says.
“You’re extremely handsome,” Kim politely offers as she shakes his hand. Mya and I exchange looks, beside ourselves with private laughter. Bryan thanks her politely as Kim smiles and continues to shake his hand a bit too long.
Bryan’s phone chirps and he immediately excuses himself to attend to it.
“Grayson?” I ask, referring to Bryan’s text. He shakes his head. That meant it was Dale.
“He’s still doing an interview,” Bryan says.
“Jesus, where? It’s the middle of the night in the states.”
“London,” he says, not looking up as he texts back.
Suddenly I feel Kim’s tight grip on my arm, and turn to look at her. She’s calmly eyeing something straight ahead. The grip tightens further.
Grayson and Bel have entered the lounge and stopped at the bar.
They’re each casually dressed in crisp white dress shirts and form fitting pants, blue and gray, respectively, and sneakers without socks. Bel’s locs are demurely pulled back in a regal oversized bun. Grayson’s hair is closely cut Tyler Durden style. He’s clean shaven while Bel’s beard and goatee was meticulously shaped.
Both of them are wicked hot, it’s a sin to not notice. It’s moments like these that my life feels completely insane. When I’m with him, he’s just Grayson, and I just know him and he knows me. But sometimes, like this time, I remember when he was Grayson Davis, when he was “that man over there.”
That man over there is now my husband. And I don’t have to wonder if he will come my way, though sometimes I like to remember the feeling of wondering, like now for instance. My heart is bursting and I’m swelling with pride, in more than one place. God damn, I need to have sex. I can’t even let myself think about the first, second, or third things we’ll do once tomorrow comes. One more day, one more day…
Kim has turned completely around so that she’s facing Mya in her chair, but close enough to my ear as she speaks.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Kim quietly asks. Mya’s grinning and laughing with her sweater sleeve covering her mouth. Yesterday used to be the best day of my life. Now it’s today.
“I tried to tell you,” Mya says.
“Mya if we don’t leave this country pregnant we have failed,” she warns her severely in a low voice. Mya continues to laugh silently.
“Fuck, I can smell them already, fuck me…” Kim continues.
I’m absolutely giddy. Is this the same Kimberly “Perpetually-On-The-Guestlist” Pritchard? After years of being the consolation prize for some poor bastard that rode with Kim’s newest boyfriend to meet us all at the club, finally I got the upper hand and it feels good, not gonna lie.
“Babe, come say hi to Kim, she’s dying to meet you— ow!” I yell across the room, and Kim pinches me.
Grayson and Bel make their way to the group.
Grayson greets me with a sterile kiss on the cheek. He’s been on his best behavior and I want to jump his bones.
“The infamous Kim,” Grayson smiles as he shakes her hand.
“So nice to finally meet you,” Kim says, suddenly turning professional.
“Is it?” Grayson asks, skeptical.
“Of course.”
“Mya’s still holding my feet to the fire,” he teases, looking in Mya’s direction.
“Mya is petty and bitter,” Kim half whispers, a backhand to the side of her face.
Kim is a mess! I look at Mya and s
he’s instantly cackling.
“Mya, I believe I owe you an apology for last night,” Grayson says as he makes his way over to take Sam from Rosetta. “It was rude of me, I didn’t intend to embarrass you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Mya quickly shrugs off, as if she doesn’t want to draw any attention. We haven’t even had a chance to tell Kim about any of last night’s debacle on the roof. If at all possible, we try to go over the tea together, but I have a feeling Mya wants to keep that one between us.
But Kim isn’t paying attention. At all.
Kim is getting acquainted with Bel, and Bel with Kim.
“Asalaam alaikum,” Kim greets him, accepting his handshake.
“My people are Christian actually,” he says.
“No shit, since when??”
“Since Europe was part of the Roman Empire.”
“So like, Coptic?”
“Closely related, yes. I’m impressed.”
“So am I,” Kim says.
“You’re breathtaking,” he suddenly says.
Kim isn’t facing us but we can all see Bel’s grey eyes are fixed on Kim’s brown ones. They’re still slowly shaking hands.
“I know,” Kim replies. I would laugh but I’m too fucking stunned, and also I want to hear the conversation.
“I don’t usually open with that, I assure you,” he says, gazing at her as though mesmerized.
“Uh-oh, are you my guy?” she purrs.
“I hope so,” Bel says.
“Damn,” Kim coos.
Grayson rolls his eyes next to me, knowing a familiar dance was about to take place. Bel loves wild, unstable women, and Kim is slowly checking all the boxes. I give Grayson a backhand smack to the chest. No way does Kim compare to those chickenheads Bel brings around.
About that time Dale emerges, also embracing his inner european, with a navy blue shirt rolled up at the elbows and tan form fitting slacks, leather shoes and no socks.
“Dammit, here comes another one,” Kim says.
“Who, him? Don’t worry about him,” flirts Bel.
“Why not?” Kim flirts back.
“He’s got a very small dick,” Bel says.
Grayson slowly shakes his head in Bryan’s direction as Bryan gives him a smirk. Obviously this isn’t the first time Bel has thrown Dale under the bus and while awful, it is undeniably hilarious.