THE GOOD MISTRESS II: The Wedding

by Amarie Avant

  “Yasmin,” Mila huffed, “I am going to plan a wedding, trust me. It will be here before you know it. February fourteenth to be exact. Three weeks, because contrary to your belief that I’m easily broken—”

  “Humph, you put it lightly. Allow me to correct you; however, I don’t think you’re a wimp or a pushover. One would have to be strong as hell to stomach Lido for even a few moments at a time. You have more backbone than I do. She’d be on the streets panhandling if I were her caregiver.”

  “Thank you, I suppose.” Mila held up a bridal magazine. “Now, are we going to search for wedding dresses.”

  “No. Let’s just get this girl and return home. I don’t want her sour-ass attitude tainting your wedding plans. It’s bad juju to mix the two. We deal with her today, and then come tomorrow, you and I meet with a wedding planner. She will not be included.”

  “I have to ask her to be a bridesmaid, Yasmin.”

  “Do you?” Her serious look disappeared, and Yasmin wriggled in her seat. “Okay, I am not being fair, my beautiful Walaashay yar.”

  Just as Yasmin made her apology, Mila glanced at her phone on the table beside her. A bubbly laugh erupted from her. After the past few days—prior to them staying in bed—when Welsh was out and about, and now with Lido, she was glad to have a laugh. Those two hits were enough to knock people down, and here she was holding her side in a good chuckle.

  “Mila, I just admitted my faults, and you—”

  “Blake sent me a gif.” She held up the phone. It just grazed her oldest sister’s hand when the text pinged again. Her curious sister smirked as Mila pulled away and glanced at her phone again. Another burst of laughter took over, and she received the side eye.

  “Sorry, here.” Mila contained herself enough to hand it over.

  “A dancing grape, then a Bitmoji of Superman rocketing into the sky,” Yasmin murmured in confusion. PING. “And now a peach being eaten? Are the two of you opening a smoothie bar?”

  With her lips trembling, and on the verge of another laugh, Mila cleared her throat. She recalled their very first sexual encounter. Blake had literally taken grapes, slipped them inside her peach and ate them out. She knew that the Superman rocketing into the sky was the fucker’s confidence, and she loved him.

  “Just a silly inside joke,” Mila said, voice tensed in an attempt not to laugh. This fool had her embarrassed. She responded.

  MILA: I miss that.

  BLAKE: When you return?

  MILA: Most definitely.

  The response had her cracking up again. This time the superman GIF was doing a combination of twerking and the Dab. Her man was just a crazy nut.

  She glanced up at Yasmin, who watched Mila over the rim of the Cristal she sipped on. Yasmin nodded. “You do freaky white boy things, don’t you?”

  Offering a smirk of her own, Mila said, “I’m sure you and the hubby have made the wedding bed last.”

  “Toot, toot,” Yasmin said, popping the collar of her shirt.

  “Yas, that is old as hell.” Mila laughed again, to which her sister waved her off.

  Three hours later, the oldest and youngest Ali sisters were no longer strengthening their bond over a laughing session. The sky was gloomier, and the New York air was chilled. It was nothing like winter in California. White dust shimmied down the lapel of Yasmin’s wool blazer as she paused to tremble in the cold. A driver, in cap and black suit, held the back door of the SUV open, offering her a hand as she got into the car. In a trim-cut fur coat, Mila slid in next to her sister. Each one grumbled, complained, and seethed. And the snow had yet to really set in.

  “Where to now?” He inquired, glancing into the car after Mila. He offered a slight sympathetic smile.

  “The airport.” Yasmin did not miss a beat in her snippy response as she glanced at the sign to the psychiatric ward of the private hospital.

  “Can you give us a moment, please,” Mila said, ever the kind-hearted beauty.

  He nodded, closed the back door, and retreated to the driver’s side of the car.

  “We have traveled thousands of miles, Mila. Oh, and I am livid. I cannot believe that Lido manipulated one of the other nut cases in that crazy hospital to call me. I assumed the bitch needed someone to sign her out or something. You know why she did this. It’s the whole ‘if she says jump’ then ‘we say how high’ type of manipulative bullshit.”

  “Well—”

  “If there is a snow storm before the day’s end, I am . . . I am going to strangle the sharmoto—that bitch. No wait, we haven’t the slightest idea where she is for me to knock some sense into her. Why the hell did I come?” Her rant concluded on a grumble as Yasmin pressed back into the seat. “For the most undeserving sharmoto in the stratosphere!”

  “We came. And we are going to find Lido. She tricked us into believing that she had to be picked up. Like a little child who wants to determine his or her mother’s love—”

  “Girl, just because your name means “the people’s love” and you started a nonprofit called The People’s Love Project doesn’t mean I am interested in that sort of mentality. Our family loves each other. Lido alienated herself.”

  “Can you stop harping and listen for a second?”

  “But why, you haven’t told me why we stuck our necks out for the—” Yasmin began to smile. “The monkey.”

  Mila’s head tilted sideways somewhat. “Watch yourself, before you become just like her with that big mouth of yours.”

  “Never!”

  “We need to find Lido. Show her that we give a damn about her. Take her back to the facility, and see what they recommend—”

  Yasmin scoffed.

  “Thanks for interrupting me over and over. And we need to set her ass straight. She cannot keep calling on us only when she needs something. She cannot keep making these foolish moves and expect to be bailed out. We need to say that this is the last damned time. That we love her more than she loves herself and that she needs to grow up. That’s what we need to say, which would be perfect in a group counseling session.”

  Yasmin leaned forward and addressed the driver. “We will keep pushing along. I know just the place.” She began to dig through her purse as the man nodded.

  Mila’s eyebrows furrowed. “You have an idea of where she is?”

  “Sure.”

  “Where, Yasmin, where?”

  “The strip club. Probably the one with the whores instead of the men.”

  “You are a sexist, Yasmin.” Mila shook her head. “Men can be whores too.” Blake was a very big one when we met.

  “I’m joking. She’s probably with that confused man, Amana-Am… Amara!”

  “Oh, you’re right.” Mila started to search for Lido’s agent’s phone number in her phone.

  “Of course, I am. He’s invested in her future; the bitch is money to him.”

  A few minutes later, Mila got off the phone with a huff.

  “Amara dropped her the exact morning Lido went batshit crazy.” Mila wanted to believe that her sister had snapped about losing her agent instead of thinking her sole purpose was to take the limelight off Mila’s pending marriage, as Yasmin had implied. Could Amara cutting ties with Lido be the true reason for her zoo-like tantrum?

  “Yasmin, finding her won’t be easy,” Mila grumbled. “Lido has a thousand friends.”

  “Wait, you just started this witch hunt. And friends, really? Until I met Veronica, I thought that girl had designs on our sister, wanted something from her. Everyone else does. Veronica is the only one dumb enough to love her. Lido has no friends. She has followers who use her to learn the walk and how to pose. She has followers interested in the cocaine that she snorts and her money. And that is all.”

  The look Mila gave her sister asked “if she was ready to get off her soapbox.” Yasmin waved her off.

  “I’m going to try to call her again.”

  Yasmin shrugged, reached along the console, and grabbed out a pack of Famous Amos cookies while Mila tried
the number for the hundredth time.

  “It’s ringing—”

  Blake

  With the cellphone flipping around the knuckles of his long, steady fingers, Blake thought about the text he had received from Mila’s Driver, Hensley.

  She’s safe. That’s the most important thing. He told himself to forget about Hensley’s comment. Mila and Yasmin had seemed to be on a wild goose chase searching for Lido. Blake continued to focus on the fact that Hensley held a black belt, and Lamb had personally chosen him to accompany Blake’s most prized possession to New York. Another thought crept into his mind as he thought about Mila, relating to her safety. The iPhone stopped flipping around his fingers.

  Have Todd murdered. The thought etched itself on his brain. Blake shut the idea down as quickly as he had considered it. Todd Welsh now resided in a supermax prison located in Colorado. He’d almost mentioned it to Isaac, and that would’ve been the worst decision he could have made. Although Blake trusted Isaac, the problem was his friend would’ve talked him out of it. Blake gripped the iPhone tightly as the morning Todd cornered Mila roamed through his mind.

  “I could have him murdered if I wanted to,” he mumbled to himself. And he really wanted to. The feeling wove its way deep into his bones, ready to set roots.

  Blake placed the phone on the table and looked around himself for the first time. Vengeance had utterly consumed him a moment prior, and he was now mentally back in his office in Santa Monica. Through the glass doors, he noticed Parker pacing down the hall. Her suit swallowed her lanky figure. She eyed him, and he huffed. Parker wanted to talk.

  He gestured for her to come in. Parker opened the double doors and strutted in. The thin line of her lips lurched into a smile.

  “Do you recall purchasing home improvements for struggling families across the nation to ensure Mila received the commission at Versa Improvements?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you recall the residual effects of how your social media business exploded! You bypassed Pinterest that day—”

  “What’s with the lawyer stance, Parker? Yes, we also bulldozed Instagram for a time.”

  Parker steepled her fingertips and made a muhahaha sound. “I have the perfect plan. As your public relationships representative, I’d like to boost your social media account subscribers.”

  Blake rubbed at his bristled jaw. “Every time you speak to the media, there’s always a boost in clients starting profiles and what not. What the hell are you getting at?”

  She slinked down onto the thick, leather chair across from him. “Blake, that stuff comes with the territory. The moment I stepped in front of the camera at your home in Hollywood Hills to address your driving like a lunatic to save your fiancée, the news channels have eaten it up. You were trending on every social media site, including your biggest enemy.”

  Facebook.

  She grinned as he frowned. “Let’s not give the other guys a reason to tweet or post, unless, well, they’re linking their comments and ideas to your social media site!”

  “I like the sound of that. Shit, I’ll give you a seat on my tech team.” He almost cracked a smile as she frowned. His tech team had this habit of ordering pizza and hoagies at lunchtime, talking Star Wars with their mouths full of food, or debating which was better, Marvel or DC, while wearing Avenger and Justice League memorabilia. “Honorary seat.”

  “No, thank you.” She pushed a piece of thin, brown hair behind her ear. “I’m a social butterfly as much as the next person but on my terms.”

  “So, how will you start a social media frenzy on my site only—or at the very least, with my application is the main platform?”

  “Your wedding.”

  He picked up his cellphone once more and let it rove over his knuckles and around his fingers. He was not sure he liked the sound of it. He growled again. “How?”

  Parker smiled as if she was done playing the shock-and-awe, pause-for-effect bullshit. She finally got right down to it. “We’ll let the people choose where you get married. You’ll have the romantics—and I mean this world is overpopulated with women and gay men—they’ll chime in. Some of the men who cannot keep their mouths shut, no matter how machismo they are, will say something as well. Then you’ll have venues bartering for—”

  “Hell no.” Blake cut her off cold. She was accustomed to reeling him into her way of thinking, but this time, it wasn’t about Blake or his company. This was about the love of his life. With Mila confessing the true reason why she did not want to get married and all ready to elope, or whatnot, he had no desire of adding a billion eyes to the equation. Her running off to save Lido prolonged their engagement enough, and he had high hopes that the girl’s loony bin stint was not a means to draw more attention to herself for various reasons.

  “Why not?” The excitement radiating from the lanky woman faded. Parker took off her prescription glasses and bit the tip of one end. “It was a great idea.”

  “Fuck great, that was the idea of the century, Parker. But no.”

  “Again, I ask why? The more I am aware, the more I am capable of assisting you in the future. Is it Mila?”

  He laughed at her. “It’s my decision not to pimp out my fucking wedding, Parker, don’t continue to question me!”

  This was the Blake that Parker had grown accustomed to over the years. The rags would come calling for a comment, and Parker had to tell them Y, without adding X and Z into the fold.

  “I’m . . .” Blake began. It was the closest thing to an apology that he would do.

  “No worries here, Blake. You’re good at biting heads off when needing to get your point across. Besides, you looked a tad testy when I came in to inquire—”

  “And you will not ask again.”

  “No, sir, I won’t bother you about it.” She started to rise. “People, among other magazine and news outlets, would like to attend an engagement party or wedding or whatever morsel you’re willing to give, once you begin planning.”

  “That you can ask me about again but later.”

  Parker left, and Blake leaned back in his chair and began to think. He contemplated calling Lamb and giving him the go-ahead to have Todd murdered. Instead, he settled on texting Hensley.

  BLAKE: Did they find her??

  HENSLEY: Yes. Driving to get Lido. There’s a snowstorm coming . . . Might be stuck for the night.

  BLAKE: Keep me updated.

  HENSLEY: I’ll pin drop in a few.

  Blake tossed the phone at the wall. A techy on the other side of the glass jumped. The man gave his boss a shocked look to which Blake raised a hand in apology. The first time he had done this, the windows weren’t shatterproof. Needless to say, he lost his best coder for a few weeks due to a concussion.

  Blake and Mila hadn’t spent a single second apart since Todd Welsh. It appeared like they would tonight, all due to her sister. And he didn’t like that at all.

  Mila

  The driver glided into a parallel spot just before it could get cold. A car literally had just swooped out.

  Ice crystals clung to Lido’s shoulders and her hair. The sight of her made her oldest and youngest sisters gasp. Before the driver came around to open the door, Mila was already shrugging out of her jacket and pulling off her leather gloves for her sister. A chill instantly took hold of her, and that happened within the few seconds the door was open. She scooted over to the middle seat.

  “Hey.” Lido slid in next to her baby sister.

  “Hey,” Yasmin smirked, trying on the same blasé response. “What do you mean ‘Hey?’ It’s negative degrees outside! You tricked us into coming to get you, and then you signed yourself out.”

  “Didn’t think you’d come.” Lido shrugged.

  The hairs on Mila’s arms stood on end. She bit her lip. She had words for her sister, but at this moment, she didn’t think she’d be able to stop herself once she started. Mila knew that wouldn’t be conducive to Lido’s mental health, and she had made the trip for her sister’s
welfare. She had wanted to communicate with the doctors who had been in charge of Lido for those few short days. And that part of the plan had gone out the window when she and Yasmin arrived at the hospital. When they were told that Lido checked herself out, the secretary indicated that any further information was confidential without Lido’s consent. Mila had wanted to corner Lido there, smack dab in the middle of the hospital. With a highly trained mental health staff around, they should’ve been able to get a resolution, something! That was the point of the trip. Now . . . now Mila wasn’t sure how to proceed.

  With a huff, Mila asked, “So where are you staying, Lido? You moved from the home you and Veronica have here and never gave us an address.”

  “Park Avenue.” Lido began and then she gave the driver the address.

  “Lido, we came. How can we help you?” Mila asked, handing the jacket over.

  Yasmin cut her eyes. Mila softly squeezed Yasmin’s arm. I’ll get there. Mila tried to say with her look.

  Yasmin understood, and the daggers in her gaze told Mila to do it already.

  “I just didn’t think you’d come, and I couldn’t stand being in that place a moment longer,” Lido said again. This time she burst into tears. “I was freezing outside and . . . and some cars drove by, disgusting motherfuckers tried to offer me to—”

  Mila looked at Yasmin. The look on her oldest sister’s face read: What do you expect?

  When Yasmin spoke, her tone offered no mercy. “Aren’t these the clothes you had on before going to jail—ahem—the psych ward?”

  “Yes, Yasmin.”

  “Then that is your fault, Lido.”

  “Yas,” Mila chided.

  “A fact is a fact,” Yasmin replied.

  Before Mila could turn back to Lido and inquire more about the psychiatric facility, her sister’s arms were around her in a hug. She was grateful that Lido smelled of strong, clean soap, which masked the funk of her dress.

  “Thank you for coming,” Lido said, and her tone sounded genuine for the first time in forever.