A white boy, his long, scraggly blond hair slicked back in a ponytail, held an iPad Mini tablet in his hand next to a velvet rope at a tiny bridge that separated the cabanas and their private bar from the rest of the pool area. While I checked out the animal-print tattoo on his chiseled right arm, he was busy following the movements of a green neon mermaid, just like the ones I saw when I checked in, as she swam through the mini moat beneath the bridge. As I came closer, something on his tablet must’ve alerted him as he quickly gazed downward at the screen then up at me.
“Welcome to your adventure, Ms. Clay,” he chimed with a clockwork smile as he stepped aside to allow me entrance to the cabana area just across the moat. “My name is Yuri. Allow me to show you to your cabana.”
Yeah, I had the magic ticket all right with this bracelet. A regular princess on a budget.
While he led me, I noticed a pattern. Fine-ass men like him were responsible for attending to the female guests and vice versa. I guessed if someone was gay, they would cater to their requests too, but I was happy with my rugged, tattooed piece of man candy.
“So where are you from?” Yuri asked as a skinny bitch with tiny shorts carried a bottle of champagne by, holding it high like it was a trophy or something.
“Texas,” I replied as I adjusted my sunglasses to check out this impressive brother with sandy brown dreads on the sly. He was coming out the pool all glistening after having cut a serious back flip. Well, all right now.
“Howdy then,” Yuri said, like that shit would make me feel at home or something. “This here isn’t as big as stuff back in Texas, but I hope you find it comfortable.”
My cabana was one of the smaller ones, but like my suite, I felt a little lonely with no one to share it. Even with his small talk, I knew Yuri had other ladies to attend to and more tips to earn. “What would you like to drink?” he asked, even though my cabana was already stocked with fresh fruit and bottled water. Of course, he meant bottle service.
“Uh . . . I’ll take a chocolate martini,” I answered, knowing that’s not what he meant.
“Anything else?” he added.
“No. I’ll start with that. Long night. Trying to ease into it,” I joked as I fanned myself.
“I understand. Well, anything I can do to make you more comfortable, just let me know. I’ll be right back with your drink.”
“Thank you,” I responded. As he bopped away, whistling to himself over the loud music, I stepped out of the sun and took a seat to further give the impression I was nursing a hangover. While I waited on my drink, I bobbed my head to the beat of a new DJ who had taken over the elevated center stage in the middle of the four overlapping pools. Whatever hit song he put on, most of the people knew except for me. Some nonsense about making “that kitty purr fer a nigga, purr fer a nigga, pu-pu-pu-purrrr fer a nigga.” What was that? 2Chainz? Lawd, I’m too old for this scene, I thought as regrets over being this reckless began to creep in yet again.
Of course, that NBA star Lake Scott and his boys were out here. Fools were rocking all-black wife beaters and shorts despite it being close to one hundred degrees. Even their towels were black. Daring the sun to win, I suppose. Fans and just your basic thirsty hoes of all colors had ’em surrounded like it was a feeding frenzy. One of his boys must’ve thought I was in awe as he took a bow in my direction and made a motion asking a sister if she wanted “The Great Lake’s” autograph. Guess he preferred an ample woman, and I ain’t mad at him, but nah, nah, boo. I gave him the “I’m good” face at which he was surprised for a full second before turning his attention to the easier prey.
Maybe I should’ve called that driver Lowell and had him put me on a plane home.
“Uh . . . hello!” a familiar woman’s voice yelled from outside my cabana, shaking me outta my funk. Someone had just walked by then doubled back when she saw me. “Why didn’t you come get me?” Ladonna asked just as I recognized her. She was still in that royal blue bikini she was working to death, but had thrown on a hat big enough to graze someone’s cornea if she made a sudden move. And why was she carrying a purse?
“I didn’t know if you were busy,” I replied truthfully. Didn’t expect us to be best buds anyway since she’d mocked me and my free champagne earlier.
“And you got the last open cabana? Really?” she asked, mildly irritated while she fanned herself beneath her straw hat.
“Looks like it,” I said with a smile and a shrug.
“Care to share?” she said, already barging in.
“I don’t see why not,” I said as I threw a bottled water to her, wondering what the markup might be on it. No point trying to pretend I had company coming, so I guessed making friends might make this trip better anyway.
“Well allow me to get this party started right . . . with the good stuff,” she said as she chucked my water back at me. Don’t tell me she thinks Voss is too low-end as well. “Can I get some service over here?” she shrieked, embarrassing me.
Yuri was just returning with my drink and smiled, despite Ladonna’s attitude. Of course, when she saw him, she mellowed out kinda quick.
“Sir, we’d like two magnums of your best,” she requested.
Magnums? If they were anything like the condoms, she was ordering some big-ass bottles. Expensive. No, no, no! “What are you doing?” I asked, visibly nervous. My cabana, my tab.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m buying friends,” she said as she waved at a few men and rocked her slight hips. “Besides, these cabanas have a two-bottle minimum. What is it you do for a living anyway, Artemis?”
“A collection agency. A couple of locations back in Texas,” I answered vaguely.
“Oh? Did you inherit it or built from the ground up?”
I laughed a hearty chuckle. “You obviously don’t know my people. Ground up,” I replied.
“A strong black woman. Good for you. My fortunes have been somewhat easier to come by. So, how big is your payroll? How many people do you employ?” she asked as she surveyed some of the beautiful bodies mingling nearby. Looked like she was car shopping and searching for just the right one, ready to kick the tires.
“About fifty between the two,” I said with a semi-mumble, pulling a somewhat reasonable number outta my ass before I took a drink of my martini to force the lies back down my throat. Damn it tasted good. Was there anything they did just mediocre around here?
“Small business owner, eh?” she said, with whatever calculations she’d made in her head. “Drinks on me,” she spat out without hesitation.
“You really don’t have to do that,” I said halfheartedly as my heart beat out of control. Someone like Ladonna could max my credit card out just by breathing.
“Oh shush. You can make it up to me later. Like maybe club hopping tonight? Or are you pacing yourself ?” she said while mocking me with a fake sad face. “If you want me for a friend, you’re gonna have to have stamina.”
“Actually, I have dinner plans,” I stated proudly. Ha! Take that!
“Oh. Is he expecting sex?” she asked without blinking.
“Excuse me?”
“Oooh, you dirty devil. You’re the one expecting sex!”
“Noooo! Not from him,” I replied, embarrassed while laughing out loud. Even though Julian Jackson was older, it’s not like he was physically unappealing. “It’s just dinner.”
“You’re gonna make me yawn, Artemis. Really,” she chided. “Well, if you change your mind, make him use a condom. You can’t trust the men out here. Well . . . actually you can’t trust men anywhere. I learned that from my dearly departed daddy. Unless you’re trying to get pregnant by him. Is he successful? Think about it. You could expand your business as he expands you.”
“Ladonna. Please. Stop,” I begged as I shook my head. This girl was too much.
“Does he stay here at Aquos?”
“Ladonna!” I yelled, waving my hands to get her to shush. I almost got up to physically cover her mouth.
“Because
if he stays on our floor or higher, he’s definitely successful. Or a criminal. Sometimes they’re one in the same, y’know.”
“Look . . . I appreciate your advice,” I said, lying through my teeth. “But I’m not new to the rodeo,” I uttered, groaning right after I said it. Texas through and through.
“Excuse me then, Miss Artemis,” she clowned as two magnums of Perrier-Jouët rosé were delivered to us by Yuri and another one of the attendants.
“What do we do now?” I asked Ladonna as the rapper Pitbull proclaimed himself “Mr. Worldwide” at the beginning of his latest song.
“We party. Pick some temporary friends, dear,” she suggested as she gestured with her fingers for those who met her approval to join us.
I wondered what shape I would be in by the time dinner came around.
But fuck it, I thought as I motioned for the brother with the sandy dreads to join us if he chose. He certainly wouldn’t die on me.
Right?
Chapter 11
“Artemis, do you really have to go?” Ladonna asked, almost pleading as I shoved her out the door along with the three eclectic stragglers we’d picked up from our cabana party downstairs: my man with the dreads from the pool, another guy who Ladonna described as the “Norwegian snowboarder with a big snowboard in his swim trunks,” and a sister who was a Marine on leave from her base in California. As I got dressed for my dinner date with Julian, I couldn’t just kick them out. I’d be lacking in my Southern hospitality. Especially since Ladonna fronted all the drinks at my cabana and saved me the embarrassment.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean the party stops. It just goes on without me,” I replied with a laugh. I had fifteen minutes to put the finishing touches on my hair and makeup, which I was doing all by myself, and to sober up somewhat. But at least I wasn’t driving tonight.
“Well, you look beautiful, girl. Just remember. Condom,” she joked while simulating rolling one onto an imaginary penis.
Her motion brought a smile to the dread-headed panty remover whom I considered dead sexy when I was checking him out by the pool. I thought I might be ready for some harmless flirtation. But it was obvious by Ladonna’s fourth magnum of champagne she ordered that he’d gravitated from my plump ass and thighs to her plump bank account. Hey, do you, bro. She was the one who said she wanted to buy some friends anyway, not me, so she could have him. Besides, all he woulda gotten from me on his very best day was some killer pussy.
Oooo. Poor word choice, I know.
But think of it as making progress.
After figuring out which elevator to take and which elevator to get off in this dang place, I arrived late to my dinner date with Julian. He’d selected Aquos’s rooftop restaurant, Spire, with its panoramic view of the city for what I kept telling myself was going to be a friendly business powwow. And if I believed that shit deep down, then why did I wear my best evening gown? I’d luckily packed it on a whim, but it was fitting too snug in some spots for me. Well, it was dinner only and not dancing, so I figured I’d be straight as long as the lights were dim.
“Ms. Clay?” the maître d’ asked before I could get out for who I was there.
“Yes,” I answered, a little bit perplexed since I wasn’t wearing my Aquos bracelet this time.
“Mr. Jackson is expecting you,” he said, enjoying my surprise. “Right this way.”
In the entire place there were only about seven people dining, but none were near where Julian was seated. For a place as exquisite as this, it didn’t make any sense for it to be this empty unless the prices were really astronomical. When Julian spotted me, he stood up from his seat like a gentleman, then beckoned a waiter over.
“I thought you might stand me up,” he said as he took my hand and gave me a soft kiss on my cheek before I could even think about objecting. Decisive.
“You took me away prematurely from some fun, so I did consider it,” I stated, busting his chops. A habit I was getting used to.
“How did the maître d’ know it was me?” I asked, only thinking the obvious being my race.
“Easy. I described you to him,” he said kissing his fingertips for dramatic effect. “Knew you’d be looking lovely, so it was easy. That, and the fact that I bought out this entire section so we could be alone.”
I’d be shitting you if I said the gesture didn’t make my heart go all pitter-pat for a minute. Maybe he had a legitimate interest in me. But that might be as standard for this Julian cat to impress a woman as a regular brother buying roses or showing off his nice car.
As the waiter came over with an open bottle of wine, he flashed the label toward Julian then poured a little of the vino in both our glasses.
“You’re so easy on the eyes,” he said as those very eyes tried to avoid my bosom, but succumbed anyway.
“I can say the same about you, but you probably hear that from all your women,” I said as I took in the basically elegant black suit that made him look like one of the old Rat Pack, or a slightly older Diddy.
“Oh? You’re one of my women now?” he crowed, swirling his wine around before taking a sip.
“Shit, you wish,” I clowned, perhaps being a little too loose if this was about business. Artemis, you’re outta your league, but don’t you dare let it show, girl.
Two servers came from the kitchen with these cute little square plates, each possessing a mound of what looked like either corned beef hash or dog food surrounded by pretty colors and a baby egg of some sort. Of course, I knew it wasn’t dog food . . . I thought. Unless Julian was trying to prank a sister. But he knew better from our hallway exchange.
“The starter. I hope you like,” he said as he waited for me to situate my napkin and utensils before beginning to eat.
I needed something to sop up the alcohol I’d been chugging, so I didn’t waste any time trying to be too cute. “What is this? If you don’t mind my asking,” I said as I swirled the flavors around in my mouth, which I couldn’t fully identify. Whatever it was, it was meaty and had some seasoning. Hell, I was still kinda drunk, so it could’ve been anything.
“Steak tartare with black truffle aioli and a quail egg,” he answered as he identified the components on my tiny plate.
“Tartare? As in raw meat?” I said, fighting off the instinct to spit it into my napkin. I immediately stopped chewing as I looked around to see if anyone was watching.
“Of course. It’s the only kind of tartare that I know of,” he replied, looking confused.
“Uh . . . no offense, but I prefer my food fully cooked. Just call me an uncultured barbarian, I guess,” I said with a half smile as I stared at the remainder on my plate. It sure looked pretty enough, but wasn’t gonna happen. Couldn’t believe this nigga had ’em serve me some raw damn meat. Not like it was sushi or something.
“Please. I’m not offended at all. It took me a minute to acquire the taste myself. I really should’ve waited for you before I ordered. That damn type A personality of mine asserting itself. No wonder I’m single,” he added with a mocking sigh. “A soup then? Lobster bisque?”
“All right now! I can definitely work with that,” I answered with joy. And if it came out with a live lobster kicking on top of a bowl I was so outta here.
After my soup, which was savory, Julian ordered our main course: a filet of Wagyu beef with foie gras topping and sautéed wild mushrooms for himself, and braised branzino with jasmine rice for me. Although being a little rushed and uptight at first, I found myself really enjoying Julian’s company. Just days earlier, I never would’ve envisioned myself having dinner in a restaurant like this while soaking in a dazzling night view of the Las Vegas skyline. A moment I had to commit to memory fo’ sho.
After my first glass of wine, I asked for water with lemon. “No more drinks for me. I had more than a few at the day club,” I explained to him.
“With those kids?” he asked, his brow furrowing.
“Somebody had to supervise them, so I took it upon myself,” I joked. “And
believe me, there were plenty of us responsible folk down there, too. And, speaking of supervise, is this dinner more about your apology, or did you really get me all scrunched into this dress to probe me . . . about business.”
Julian chuckled over my probe remark. “Nah. No business tonight. We can get to that later. I’m sure you didn’t come to Vegas for that anyway.”
“Nope. Just fun. Until I butted all in your conversation. What brought you here?”
“Some gambling and a change of scenery. I fancy myself a decent poker player back home in Connecticut. Too bad my winnings never reflect it. But I don’t shy away from a challenge . . . of any kind. Besides, I’ve learned a lot about your management style just from this dinner.”
“You don’t say?” I said, suddenly feeling nervous. Sure, I talked shit. But that was because I had no responsibility and nothing else to lose.
“Yeah. You freely express your opinion, but know how to be forward yet non-offensive. You’re not intimidated by the unfamiliar . . . well except for raw meat,” he said, to which we both laughed. “But most importantly, you enjoy life.”
“And that hasn’t been too easy to do these days,” I mumbled as I thought about my circumstances.
“Business, or personal?”
“Both,” I said.
“Well, despite how I came across when we first met, I’m really not like that. I just play a convincing ‘big, bad wolf’ when I need to. If there’s anything you need, I’m available, Artemis,” he said as he reached his hand across and shook mine. “Even if it’s just as a sounding board.”
Well, that was so unexpected.
Besides finding my biological mom, spotting me a couple hundred grand, and promising to provide me good sex without dying on me, I thought I’d be straight.
Carl Weber Presents Full Figured 6: Plus Size Divas Page 17