by Mason Dixon
Celia poured herself a glass of white wine while she admired the view of the Miami River from the balcony outside Kenya’s bedroom. “Tell me everything that happened last night and tell me slow. I don’t want to miss anything.”
“I already told you once.”
Celia had oohed and ahhed over her account of last night’s events like she was listening to the recap of a soap opera. Kenya felt a bit like she was starring in one. If that was the case, she wasn’t looking forward to the requisite cliffhanger. The last thing she needed was for someone she had thought long dead to come back from the grave or to discover she had a secret evil twin, two tried and true plot devices soap writers kept turning to time and time again in order to please their steadily dwindling audiences.
“I know you said you told me the whole story, but you must have left something out. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be wondering how you left the office yesterday with no women in your life and less than twenty-four hours later, you have two beating down your door.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but the only person beating down my door today is you. And the last time I checked, you weren’t on the list of prospects.”
Celia shrugged as she sipped her chardonnay. “I don’t like office romances.”
“Or sex with women.”
“I don’t know. A few more nights like the ones I had in college and I might be persuaded to join the team.”
“Do I need to keep my eye on you today?” Celia didn’t party often. But when she did, she really let loose. And reeling her in was often no easy feat.
“It might be wise to keep me on a short leash. I haven’t had more than one glass of wine since the twins were born and I have a feeling the booze is going to be flowing pretty freely after we arrive. This party isn’t clothing optional, is it?” She pointed to her full breasts. “If it is, the girls might come out to play.”
“Make sure you tell them they aren’t invited. I don’t want to have to bail you out after the three of you get arrested for indecent exposure.”
“Like I said, short leash.” Celia closed the patio door and came back inside. “So which one are you more interested in, Mackenzie or Simone? Because both of them sound pretty hot.”
Kenya considered the question. Even though the answer seemed obvious, she couldn’t come up with it. Mackenzie and Simone both had their strong points. And their weak ones, too. Mackenzie had a thriving career but a spotty romantic track record. Simone was easy to talk to but her job situation was less than ideal. Mackenzie was the easy choice, but was she the right one?
“I’m not ready to pack up the U-Haul and park it outside anyone’s house right now, let alone someone I just met.”
“What about getting horizontal? Are you ready for that?”
“I’m not sure.”
Kenya hadn’t allowed herself to be intimate with anyone since she caught her lover of four years fucking a maid in their hotel room bed. Ellis’s betrayal had been the last straw in a relationship that had been on shaky ground for months before finally crumbling under its own weight—and the dozens of exorbitant purchases Ellis had made on her credit card when Kenya had been lovestruck enough to trust her with the valuable piece of plastic. Not to mention the other cards Ellis had maxed out post-breakup after she “borrowed” Kenya’s social security number to complete the applications.
Kenya supposed she could have taken legal action after she discovered what Ellis had done, but what would have been the point? There was no way Ellis could have paid her back, and trying to make her learn from her mistakes would have been an exercise in futility. The damage to her financial standing was reparable. The resulting damage to her reputation, if the scandal became public, wasn’t. As for the effect on her heart, well, that was still to be determined.
She should have known Ellis was wrong for her. She was too wild. Too irresponsible. Too everything. But the untamed quality Ellis exuded had been part of the attraction. After they ended, it was easy to look back and say, “I told you so.” But while they were together, the relationship had felt like a risk worth taking. Kenya was still paying for her decision to assume that risk. In more ways than one. Ellis’s betrayal had bankrupted her emotionally and had nearly had the same effect financially. Monetarily, she was finally back on her feet. Emotionally, she wasn’t so sure.
She had dated a few times since she’d told Ellis they were through, but none of the relationships had made it past the embryonic stage. Her fault. And she knew it. She kept judging her prospective partners based on the low bar Ellis had set rather than allowing them to pass or fail on their own merits. Things were different with Mackenzie. And so was she.
She had felt comfortable with Mackenzie from the moment they met. At ease. Yet she had also felt a spark of something electric whenever Mackenzie touched her. Something carnal. She was well aware of Mackenzie’s playgirl reputation, but Mackenzie hadn’t made her feel like she wanted her to become just another notch on her bedpost. Mackenzie had made her feel like she wanted her to become something more. Or maybe she was reading more into the situation than was really there. Either way, she wanted to explore it further.
Simone had pitched her case, though not well enough for Kenya to buy what she was selling. As for Mackenzie, today would go a long way toward answering the question of whether she was truly interested in Kenya or simply on the hunt for her next conquest. Perhaps it would also determine if Kenya was ready to open herself up to someone again or if she was destined to remain as she was now—closed for business.
“I can tell you’re fascinated by Mackenzie and everything she brings to the table,” Celia said. “The two of you would probably go to sleep whispering the latest business news into each other’s ears instead of sweet nothings. But Simone got to you, didn’t she?”
Kenya temporarily put her search for the perfect outfit on hold and sat on the edge of her queen-sized bed. Simone’s questions—even the ones that hadn’t come from a list—had challenged her. Made her think. Now she was filled with questions of her own. Was Simone right? Had she underestimated her? Should she give Simone what she had asked for, a chance to prove her wrong? But Kenya didn’t have any room in her life for second-guessing. Otherwise, she’d never be able to make a decision and stick to it. In her professional life or her personal one. If everything went well over the next few weeks, saying yes to Mackenzie and no to Simone might turn out to be the best decision she had ever made.
“You don’t do office romances,” she said, resuming her search, “and I don’t do short-lived ones. Now help me find something to wear.”
“Give it up. You’re not going to find what you’re looking for in there. That’s why I brought two outfits with me instead of one.” Celia set her wine glass on the dresser and tucked two stray locks of her long brown hair behind her ears before she unzipped the garment bags she had tossed on the bed when she had arrived half an hour ago. “Take your pick.”
Kenya inspected the contents of the garment bags. The first bag contained a vintage Versace blouse and a pair of cream-colored sailor pants, a high-end combination that made her wonder if Celia’s salary was still within the prescribed pay scale for her position. The second bag contained a slightly more casual outfit: a pair of white jeans and a white T-shirt embellished with interlocked Chanel logos in black sequins.
“How much are we paying you?”
“Enough,” Celia said with a cheeky grin, “but I wouldn’t turn down a raise. Diapers aren’t cheap, you know. So do you want to wow in Versace or be understated in Chanel?”
Kenya reached for the T-shirt and jeans. “I’ll leave the wowing to you, thanks.”
“I figured you’d say that. My mother loves to say classy beats trashy, but I don’t see anything wrong with adding a little spice every now and then.”
“I know. Remember that mini-dress you wore on our last girls’ night out?”
“How could I forget? Nine months after Juan saw me in it, I ended up giving birth to twins.” Celia pul
led a gold chain link belt and a pair of stiletto heels from an overnight bag. “Thankfully, that’s not going to happen today.”
“Are you sure? Every time Juan so much as breathes on you, you end up peeing on a stick and watching it turn blue.”
“That’s why I plan to turn myself from a diva back into a soccer mom before I head home tonight. Four kids are enough.”
Celia was so serious at the office Kenya had forgotten how much fun she could be when she was away from it. As they began to get ready for the party, Celia made her laugh until she cried. She had to redo her makeup twice when her waterproof mascara proved to be anything but. “I haven’t had this much fun since—”
“You were still getting some?”
Kenya pursed her lips in mock disapproval. “I was going to say since I was a teenager, but thanks for reminding me how long my drought has been.”
“In a few hours, your drought may be officially over. Just give me a heads-up if I need to catch a ride home, okay?”
“In that outfit, I think you’ll have plenty of volunteers.”
“So will you.” Celia looked her up and down. “Why does understated look frumpy on me but sexy on you?”
Kenya regarded her reflection in the floor-length mirror. She wasn’t vain enough to rate herself a perfect ten, but she didn’t think she looked half-bad, even in borrowed clothes. “Let’s hope Mackenzie feels the same way.”
*
Simone checked her station to make sure it was sufficiently stocked. She had two bottles of vodka, a bottle of gin, a bottle of bourbon, two bottles of tequila, two bottles of white wine, and two bottles of red wine, along with various mixers and garnishes. That should get her through the two-hour trip at sea, but with Mackenzie’s friends, too much was never enough. Deciding it was better to be safe than sorry, she grabbed another bottle of tequila to make sure she didn’t run out before she could hit the supply truck for more.
“All set?” Amanda asked, struggling under the combined weight of the two ice-filled five-gallon buckets she was carrying.
“Yeah, I’m good. Let me help you.” Simone grabbed one of the buckets and dumped its contents into an oversized cooler filled with sodas, energy drinks, and bottled water.
“Thanks.” Amanda emptied her bucket and shook her arms as if they’d gone numb during her long trek from the storeroom two decks below. “What’s today’s cause for celebration?”
“Does there have to be one?”
“Right. I forgot who we work for. In her world, every day is cause to celebrate. If I were in her shoes, I’d probably do the same thing. When you’ve got it, flaunt it, right?”
Simone stirred the ice with her hands to make sure all the drinks were equally covered. “I just want to get it. Flaunting it can wait.”
The assortment of silver bracelets adorning Amanda’s wrists sparkled in the afternoon sun as she hitched up her low-slung jeans. “Do you mean to tell me if your music career took off, you wouldn’t start making it rain all over town?”
“I’ve worked too hard to get where I am. If I broke big, I wouldn’t waste my money on expensive toys. I’d put it in the bank to make sure it worked for me instead of the other way around. After I traded in my broke-down Kawasaki for a tricked-out Harley Fat Boy like Arnold Schwarzenegger rode in Terminator 2, of course.”
“If Linda Hamilton came with the bike, I’d get one, too.” Amanda ran a hand through her black hair. One side of her ’do was cut close to her scalp, while the rest spilled past her shoulders. An elaborate tattoo of a dragon crept up the side of her neck, completing the edgy look her physician parents disapproved of. “But speaking of impossible dreams, how did things work out during your mini-date with Miss Old-fashioned last night?”
“They didn’t.”
“I told you she was out of your league. Face facts, girl. You can’t compete with the boss.” Amanda poured two shots of vodka and handed Simone one, their traditional way to mark the beginning of a shift and celebrate the end of one. “So do yourself a favor and stop trying.”
Simone had almost managed to do just that by the time she got home last night. After she had worked on her music for a few hours, she had nearly gotten Kenya Davis out of her head. But when she saw Kenya board the boat looking fine as hell in tight jeans and a form-fitting Chanel T-shirt, she realized some things were worth fighting for.
*
Celia let out an appreciative whistle as she craned her neck to see La Dolce Vita in all its beauty. “This is some sweet setup. If you don’t marry Mackenzie, I will.”
“You’re already married, remember?”
“Once he got a look at all this, I’m sure Juan would understand.”
“Whatever, Celia.” Kenya laughed at the absurdity of the idea. Aside from Bridget and Avery, she had never seen a couple as blissfully in love as Celia and Juan. Even after fifteen years together, they still only had eyes for each other. “I’m going to look around. Do you want to come?”
“What you really mean is you’re going to look for Mackenzie. Go ahead. I don’t want to cramp your style. Besides, I want to find your hot bartender from last night. I bet she’s here somewhere.”
Kenya had assumed Mackenzie had hired a caterer for today’s event, but it would make better economic sense for her to use her own staff. She could showcase her brand to any potential investors on board while being assured of providing a quality experience for her guests.
“Savvy way to optimize brand management and maintain quality control,” she said. “I admire her business acumen.”
Celia pursed her Cupid’s bow lips. “I’m sure that’s not all you admire about her. Now go spend some quality time with her before she has to start playing happy hostess for half of Greater Miami.”
Kenya got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had seen that look on Celia’s face before, and she knew nothing good could come of it. “What are you going to do?”
“I have a date with a hot bartender.”
Celia jerked her head toward the starboard side of the boat. When Kenya looked in the direction Celia had indicated, she spotted Simone standing behind a portable bar laden with bottles of high-end liquor. Simone was wearing a white Azure-branded tank top, white cargo shorts, and white high-top tennis shoes. Around her neck, a white bow tie sat jauntily off-center. The bill of her all-white Miami Heat snapback hat pointed in the opposite direction. The outfit was unconventional but suited her somehow. Kenya had to agree Celia’s description of Simone as “the hot bartender” was an apt one indeed.
“I’ve seen this look in your eye before, C. What are you planning to do?”
“Nothing,” Celia said innocently. “Can’t a girl get a drink without being given the third degree? And don’t you have somewhere to be?” She pushed Kenya toward the stairs leading to the lower decks. “Tell Mackenzie I said hello.”
Kenya watched Celia make a beeline toward Simone. Heaven only knew what Celia had in mind, but she wasn’t sticking around long enough to find out.
“With friends like this, who needs enemies?”
La Dolce Vita was a pleasure craft in every sense of the word. The one-hundred-fifty-foot boat had more rooms than some people’s houses and was packed with more top-of-the-line amenities than a five-star hotel. Kenya clutched the railing as she headed to the lower deck. The smooth wood beneath her fingers was polished to so high a sheen the walnut almost gleamed brighter than the gold hardware holding it in place.
She smelled something wonderful coming from what must be the galley and turned sideways to allow some of the crew members to ferry trays of food up to the main deck.
“If you’re looking for Miss Richardson,” one of them said, “you’re in the wrong place. Her suite is on the main deck on the forward part of the ship.”
“Thank you.”
Kenya continued her impromptu tour before she headed back upstairs. The engine room, crew’s quarters, and five guest cabins were on the lower deck. The dining room and another fiv
e guest rooms were on the main deck. Like Goldilocks, Kenya was tempted to test the beds to see if they were too hard, too soft, or just right, but she decided to wait until she received an invitation to do so rather than taking it upon herself. When she reached Mackenzie’s suite, she heard muffled voices coming through the thick wooden door. She knocked twice and waited for a response.
“Come,” Mackenzie said.
Kenya opened the door to find Mackenzie sitting behind a wide desk. Mackenzie’s demeanor was businesslike as she signed a series of checks and handed them to Gabby one by one.
“I’m not interrupting, am I?”
Mackenzie looked up and broke into a broad grin when she saw Kenya standing in the open doorway. “You made it.”
“I can come back if you’re busy.”
“No. Stay. I was just finishing up.” Mackenzie signed the last check with a dramatic flourish and handed it to Gabby. “Hold on to those until we get back to shore, then you can pay everyone for today. Now go have some fun.”
“Sure thing.” Gabby locked the checks and checkbook register in a safe and nodded at Kenya on her way out.
Mackenzie came around the desk and greeted Kenya with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You look amazing. Though I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that, do I? Thank you for coming.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“After last night, I wasn’t so sure.” Kenya must have looked as confused as she felt because Mackenzie led her to a plush leather couch and fixed her with an earnest expression after she took a seat. “I don’t have to put out fires often. Normally, my general managers are up to the task and I don’t have to hear about problems until they’re solved. Last night was a special circumstance. I didn’t want you to think I was blowing you off when I asked for a rain check on our nightcap.”