by BWWM Club
The actress put on her academy award winning face of gratitude and for a moment Victoria thought she was going to give a speech. Instead, she graciously accepted the tiara they placed on her head and wept. This was all too much.
Victoria was a master of many things and regaining composure quickly was one of them. Her game face was on by the time Naomi noticed her and she was ready for anything or so she thought. The same girl who announced her arrival led her to the table where Naomi admired the cake first and then acknowledged the chef second. With a drawl dripping with malice, she announced, “Oh I know you! You are the girl who is screwing my left overs.” Shrugging her shoulders, she added, “Typical of your kind anyway.”
There was hot oil and skewers within Victoria’s arm’s reach, but after contemplating how messy either weapon would be, she decided against injuring the foolish woman. With her face set stone cold, Victoria stayed silent. People in the room giggled and someone suggested the candles be blown out.
With a loud count to three the crowd encouraged her to make a wish and the smoke was blown directly in Victoria’s face. Naomi was unaware what a thin line she was walking on.
“What did you wish for Naomi?” Someone asked and she responded venomously, “Just for world peace… the world would be such a great place if people understood where they were on the totem pole. Don’t you agree Victoria?”
Victoria was busy coating the shrimp in their coconut batter and trying hard to be professional. She dropped a small bit of the batter into the oil to test how hot it was. The pot sang and sizzled. Victoria wondered just how hot oil would melt this plastic bitch’s face.
Someone turned on some soft music while the crowd gathered around Naomi and fussed over her. Victoria concentrated on the frying of her shrimp. A girl they called Joy announced that it was time to cut the cake and again the crowd gathered around the table. The first deep slice of the cake ran through the happy birthday and Victoria couldn’t help think about how unhappy it was turning out. This was Dawson’s fault.
The intimate crowd took their cupcakes and some brightly colored punch from a crystal bowl and wandered back to their respective places. They were back in minutes for the shrimp and after it was served, Victoria removed her gloves and took out her cell to send a message. It was better to call for help than to leave in a police car.
Naomi waited till all left the table to get her serving of shrimp. She approached with the same attitude she had before, nasty and calculating.
“So the cake was ok, but I think I’ve had one from someone like you and it was much better, you can do a bit more than sleeping your way to the top. It’s a poor representation.” She paused, expecting an answer, Victoria watched the bubbles around the shrimp with interest, fantasizing. In minutes the seafood was ready and plopped on her plate.
Taking the crispy morsel from the plate, Naomi nibbled the well seasoned shrimp and scrunched up her face before spitting it out, unfortunately, in the face of an already angry Victoria. The punch coming toward Naomi’s face was hot and hard and only by the grace of God did it not connect with and break her jaw.
There was a hand grasping Victoria’s fist - a pale hand. Victoria’s head snapped around to see who had interrupted her WWF showdown. The crowd held a collective gasp, watching the ordeal unfold.
With a yank, Victoria found her hand pulled to her side while Dawson’s deep voice ordered her to be cool. Growling in Naomi’s direction he demanded, “What the fuck were you thinking? Did you think this would win me back? And you drag my girlfriend and business partner into it?”
Red as a beet Naomi searched for words and only managed to cry, “She was going to punch me didn’t you see that? You left me and picked up this… this… cook who is possibly from the ghetto?”
Dawson was yelling, “Jasmine… Jasmine… I know you are her minion and all around Hench woman, did she put you up to this shit?” Jasmine could be seen in a corner shivering. Her voice trembled as she responded, “She said she wanted the woman on the cover of last week’s social scene paper... I didn’t know the connection… I swear.”
“You are a fucking liar Jasmine; you know who is screwing who in Florida better than anyone else. You and this wicked slut set this up didn’t you?”
You could hear a pin drop in the room. Victoria wiped the partially chewed seafood from her face. She was convinced that they all knew. She knew this would happen, she knew that letting Dawson take control of any part of her life would lead to her being hurt. She could have been a fortune teller.
Jasmine ran away crying while Naomi held her ground. Victoria found herself agitated that she had been drawn into this mess. She could have kept in her corner and struggled with her little business alone. The rich people seemed to think their money, status and color meant it all. Dawson should have left her alone.
He was angrier than she had ever seen and Naomi looked truly afraid for her life. The other women there clung to each other while watching the exchange. There was a knock on the door and the service men walked in to remove the utensils and other things Victoria used to cook the meal. Dawson angrily dashed the uneaten birthday cake and anything else on the table straight to the floor and Naomi cried. “I wanted to have the rest of my cake! What have you done? You are going to pay for that Dawson.”
Grabbing Victoria’s hand and exiting behind the delivery men, he hurled one final statement, “I can afford it.”
Chapter 8
It had been three weeks since the cake throwing and Victoria had held her tongue still. Many, many things crossed her mind since the fateful night and all of them indicated she had made a bad decision in her life.
By now the staff knew they were dating and the silence was thick whenever they were in the same room together. He asked about business and she answered, but said nothing more. She had washed her hands of that.
Abby could have been nasty about the entire ordeal, but instead she clung to her best friend’s side as she tried to heal from the wounds the rich had inflicted. Remembering Timothy there, laying on the bed, she remembered his final words to her. Selfishly caught up in her own pain, Victoria realized she had never checked to see how he was doing. She had, after all, changed her cell number and didn’t remember to share it with his wife. Being caught up with money could do that to a person.
The number was easy to find and when Cherry answered the phone, Victoria knew she had been crying. As it turned out, Timothy had died the week prior and all Victoria could do was offer her condolences. The funeral had been the day before. Florida, that once gave her so much happiness now was filled with sorrow. Maybe it was time to move.
*****
Dawson needed to talk with someone and though he was jaded and bitter, Uncle Thomas was the closest father figure in his life. Sitting in the large living room of the penthouse suite in one of his hotels was something he enjoyed, but on this early morning as he and Uncle Thomas shared a drink, his mood was dark. Of course he had other properties, but there was no joy to be found in any of them when he felt so alone.
As the sun rose and kissed the tops of the buildings, Dawson confided in his uncle. They had gone to an art gallery opening and his arm felt naked without Victoria. He sat on a chaise lounge sipping an amber ale while Dawson gazed through the floor to ceiling glass panels separating them from the world.
“How do you win a woman back uncle? I can’t seem to figure it out.”
Uncle Thomas seemed oblivious to the fact Dawson was suffering any kind of pain, sipped heavily before asking casually, “Is this about the cook? I thought you had moved on! So many women to choose from and you are stuck on screwing the help.”
It was a bad idea to ask this old troll anything. The only love he had in his heart was for himself and alcohol. His uncle rose from the plush couch and approached him. “Let me talk some sense into you son. In life they are things and people you will encounter that are pretty to look at and hold but they belong somewhere else. The girl has an ass and tits out of this wo
rld, but she is the help Dawson, you need to get over it and fast. She doesn’t belong in our circle.” He paused to sip his drink before continuing, “You’ve been charitable… given her a job and helped her with her own little soup kitchen or whatever she runs… you have done your part.”
He ambled back to his seat where he fell onto the couch, subsequently spilling his drink. In minutes he was asleep, snoring loudly and Dawson’s thoughts were more disturbed than before. Lighting a cigar he wondered why he, America’s youngest and richest bachelor, should be worrying over a woman. As the heavy fragrant smoke puffed above his head, he answered his own question - he was in love with her.
For the first time in years, Dawson felt like crying and ambled sadly over to his grand office and closed the door to drown out the old man’s snoring. Sitting at his large oak desk, he took out a solid gold pen and white sheets of paper monogrammed with the DCM logo. It was time to write either a letter of dismissal or suspension. This matter of seeing her every day without talking to her couldn’t go on. Now he understood why playwrights penned such sorrowful scenes of love and death because without her, he couldn’t exist.
*****
Abby knew how to run her business and there was no better person to take the reins in Victoria’s absence than her best friend. Waiting at the airport to hop a plane to the hood was exactly what she decided to do. Everything here was fancy and frilly, too much for her palette right now, she needed to leave. Knowing better, she took instruction from this man who said he cared for her. Yes, business was booming with his help, but now she was a miserable person without passion. It was a painful way to live.
Final kisses were exchanged between the two friends as the woman on the intercom’s voice announced her flight was boarding - it was time to leave. Because she was now forced to hide from reporters, she dressed incognito but chose to fly first class. She needed to be alone and undisturbed. The chatty people in coach couldn’t be tolerated right now.
The plane taxied down the runway after the pretty air hostess informed them of the safety measures. It was going to be good to leave this place. In a few hours the plane taxied again, but this time instead of feeling regret, Victoria was filled with joy. It was time to surprise her mother.
Marjorie insisted on keeping her job. Yes, Victoria had added to and reinforced her mother's savings. Yes, she sent her money and other surprises that would make any mother happy. But the woman only knew hard work and that’s where she was happiest.
Choosing not to roll in a limo or anything glamorous, a simple yellow cab drove her to the old neighborhood where she left her solitary bag at the old apartment she had lived in for so long. There was comfort in finding that nothing changed. Back in the waiting cab, she gave directions for her mother’s workplace.
Arriving at The Desert Canteen just as the lunch crowd slowed, proved to be perfect timing. She went inside and took a table where the young waitress took her order. This restaurant gave hearty servings, enough to fuel the tank of any hungry man or woman. Victoria ordered chicken and waffles with a spicy dipping sauce. When it arrived minutes later, Victoria requested to see the cook. Reluctantly the girl agreed - it was an unusual request for a small hole in the wall like this.
Disappearing through the flapping service doors, the girl fetched the cook to speak with the customer. Marjorie appeared looking concerned. Maybe the food she sent out was not as well prepared as she thought.
As the waitress directed her toward the woman in the floppy hat and oversized sunglasses sitting next to the window, Marjorie approached with a light, “Good afternoon.”
Victoria slowly removed her sunglasses and looked up at her mother. “Guess who's home mom?”
Laughter and screams of joy came from the two plump women hugging and dancing, happy to be reunited. Marjorie sat down, forgetting her tasks for a while. Her daughter was home and something was different. A mother always knows when something is different.
Right away Marjorie asked her daughter about her missing hair after Victoria removed her floppy hat. She had forgotten about that. After scolding her and repeating the age old line about a woman’s hair being her beauty, Marjorie asked why she didn’t call. In the way that only daughters could do, she dodged the question.
“I just wanted to see you mom. It’s been a while. Chatting on the phone wasn’t the same and I wanted to eat your homemade grits.”
Marjorie looked her child in the eyes. She knew the girl was lying and she also noticed something else. Victoria interrupted her mother’s thoughts. “Mom can you leave here early today?”
Maternal instinct told Marjorie that her daughter needed her. To travel across state just to pay her old mother a visit wasn’t a solid reason. There was more to this than met the eye. Without hesitation the older woman disappeared from sight and moments later, reappeared free of her apron and armed with her purse. It was family time.
*****
“Tell me where she is Abby.”
Victoria’s best friend inspected her fingernails as she considered the question for the fifth time.
“I cannot say Dawson. It would be wrong of me to betray her trust. Maybe you should call her.”
“Abby you and I both know that she’s not going to answer me and besides that, she changed her number. She thinks I put her in harm’s way. I can’t blame her for being angry, but I need to apologize and she won’t listen… it's… infuriating.”
Abby was going to cross the professional line but she would be the right one to do it. Choosing her words carefully, Abby shed some unwanted light on the situation.
“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe if you relaxed your, ‘my way or the highway’ attitude that maybe she would talk to you?”
“What are you talking about Abby? I have never forced her into doing anything. She has her own free will.”
“And do you respect it Mr. Ledger? I know for a fact that you have to be subtle when suggesting things to her. Also, I think it was unfair of you to drag her in the middle of your unfinished love affair. It’s almost unforgivable.” Dawson sat back and clasped his hand under his chin in contemplation. Was he that bad?
Abby was speaking again. “Have you ever stopped to ask her about her family? Her parents? What about her other passions separate from food? Did you ever seriously discuss how race would affect both your lives? She’s deeper than a screw you know Mr. Ledger, Victoria is a full woman in every way.”
Dawson’s brow furrowed and he nodded pensively at the suggestion Abby put on the table. Maybe he had been a commanding jerk. Deciding to ask the question one more time, Dawson added an extra plea, hopeful of getting information.
“Please tell me where she is Abby. I miss her more than you know. It’s been almost a week she has disappeared and she refused to speak to me for a few weeks before that…”
In her heart, Abby considered him the most handsome man alive and couldn’t bear to see him suffer. Grabbing one of his expensive pens and a blank sheet of paper from his desk, she scribbled Marjorie Jones’s address and shoved it his direction.
Standing and lingering near the door Abby said, “You didn’t get that from me,” before quietly closing the door behind her. Before she was out of earshot, he picked up the phone and speed dialed Sara. “Tell the pilot to ready the jet. I am taking a trip this afternoon.”
*****
Old people seemed to be full of talents when it came to things felt but not seen. Marjorie noticed the exceptional smoothness of Victoria’s cheeks last night and her fingers seemed a tad lighter than usual. It was when she polished off a bowl of homemade grits and topped it with sautéed bacon that the red light went off in Marjorie’s head. When she ate seconds, the light began to flash.
The apartment her mother had shared with Victoria was the exact same as before. Regardless of the money she deposited in her mother’s account, the headstrong woman insisted on staying there, working and saving. Old habits died hard.
From the small mahogany dining table, M
arjorie could look through the kitchen door and see her child standing over a stove well past maturity, and washing her hands at the outdated tap.
Still on her first plate when her daughter returned with her second helping, Marjorie asked the question that she already knew the answer to. “Eating for two are we?”
“What?” Victoria asked.
“Are you pregnant girl?”
“I have no idea what you mean Mom.”
“Humm…either you are pretending to be innocent, or you genuinely don’t know. You should pee on a stick or whatever it is pregnant women do but it looks that way to me.”
Victoria was totally stumped. Her mother had said cousin Amelia was pregnant and the then twenty year old laughed it off. That was in April. The following April, Marjorie stood at the altar of the church with the young parents and pledged to be a good God mother to baby Amir. He was now ten years old.
The tears came from nowhere. The sudden flow of emotion seemed to be unstoppable and fifteen minutes later the dam continued to gush. Marjorie shifted her chair closer to her daughter and rubbed her back. The thought of raising a child overwhelmed Victoria greatly and the prospective father was a control freak. More tears sprang. Without touching her plate, Victoria stood and went to her room. She would sleep away the idea that she carried Dawson Ledger’s child.
When Victoria woke the next day, it was nearly noon and the apartment was deathly silent. She lay there for a moment contemplating how nice it was to be home and wondering when her mother got the time to keep her room in such pristine shape. Her tiny wardrobe was still covered with the stickers of teenage boy bands. Life was simpler then, right now she was more concerned with her situation
After a quick bath, her stomach rejected the idea of eating any form of food and she decided to follow her mother’s advice. Leaving the apartment, Victoria headed for the drug store. At twenty seven there was no way she should be embarrassed about approaching the pharmacy counter and asking for a first response but she was.