Platinum

by Aliya S. King

  “Oh my!” she said, holding her hand up to her lips. Ras laughed out loud and Josephine joined him. As their laughter subsided, a light tension rose up between them.

  “Is there anything you need me to do?” Ras asked.

  “Promise me everything will be okay.”

  “You know I only promise when I know I can deliver.”

  Josephine nodded. “I know. That’s why I need you to promise.”

  “Let’s think this through,” Ras said. “What could happen?”

  “She could change her mind and keep the baby.”

  “She could. But not likely.”

  “Something could go wrong while she’s in labor.”

  Ras nodded. “True. But again, not likely.”

  Josephine sucked her teeth and sank back in her chair. “I don’t want to be fucking rational right now, Ras. I want you to just tell me everything will be fine.”

  “Everything will be fine, ma chérie. Breathe deep and prepare for motherhood.”

  Josephine stared at Ras for a long moment. He held her gaze and continued to nod. They were still staring at each other when Mali, Josephine’s assistant, came to the door of her office.

  “Alex’s here. Should I send her back?”

  “Alex? From Vibe?” Ras asked.

  “Yes, why?”

  “I just don’t like it. And this is not a good time.”

  “I want to do it now. Before … the baby comes. I’ll be too busy later.”

  “What’s her angle? What kind of questions has she been asking you? And why do you need to talk to her so much? I’ve been on the cover of Vibe—twice. And I never talked to a reporter for more than an hour.”

  “Wait,” Josephine said, holding up her hand. “Are you worried about me? Or are you worried about what I’ll say about you? You don’t have to worry. Your secrets are safe with me.”

  “That’s not what this is about …”

  Mali slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her.

  “Then what is it about?” Josephine whispered, her eyes narrowed. “That woman can write a book. And talk about having sex with you. But I can’t speak to the press and make my own name? I have to be only Ras Bennett’s wife?”

  “This just doesn’t seem like the right time. That’s all I’m saying,” Ras said.

  “I’m going crazy. Can’t stop thinking about the baby. It’ll be good to focus on something else.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I say so.”

  Mali came back to the door. “Just let me know when I should bring Ms. Maxwell in,” she said.

  “In two minutes,” Ras said, ushering Mali inside and closing the door behind her. “Any further news about your sister?”

  Josephine forced herself not to comb Mali’s face for any signs. She tried to look concerned but not frantic.

  “Good,” Mali said. “She’s two centimeters dilated.”

  Ras nodded slowly. “And they’ll call us when it’s time …”

  “Of course,” Mali said. “Everyone’s prepared.”

  Ras gave Mali a quick hug and then began to walk with her out of the office. Mali turned back before she walked away.

  “Are you coming? When she goes into labor?” Mali asked Josephine.

  “I’m not sure,” Josephine said. “What do you think?”

  Mali shrugged. “It’s completely up to you. I’ll bring Alex back for you.”

  Josephine opened the center drawer of her desk, where she kept a sterling silver hand mirror that had belonged to her great-great-grandmother, a Frenchwoman from Luxembourg for whom Josephine was named. She took out the mirror and held her chin up high, inspecting her face for any visible imperfections. She wore one layer of makeup more than she should. Which always seemed like half of what she needed. She checked each nostril, flashed a grin, and inspected her teeth. She placed the mirror back in the desk and closed it just as Mali was bringing Alex into her office.

  “Alex, so good to see you!” Josephine said, standing up behind her desk and leaning over to hug her.

  Alex shrugged out of her heavy winter coat, leaned over, and pecked Josephine’s cheek. “I love your house,” she said.

  “It’s home. Nothing special.”

  Alex snorted. “Right. The angels in the fountain on the front lawn? Nothing special about that.”

  Josephine giggled. “Okay, I’ll admit that’s a bit over the top.”

  “A little?”

  “Yes, just a little.”

  “Let me ask you this,” said Alex. “Does this property have a name?”

  Josephine smiled and looked down at her desk.

  “What is it?” Alex asked.

  Josephine rolled her eyes. “Come on. Cut me a break. Ras and I have worked hard …”

  “What’s it called?” Alex asked.

  Josephine mumbled something that Alex couldn’t hear.

  “What was that?”

  “Duarte.”

  “After Juan Pablo Duarte?”

  “You know your Dominican history.”

  “I love it,” Alex said. She clicked on her recorder and turned it toward Josephine. “So is it worth it?”

  Josephine pretended she didn’t understand the question. “Worth what?”

  “You have everything,” Alex said, pointing behind Josephine’s desk toward the pool and patio area. “You have money, power, and respect. But your husband is rarely home. Is it worth it?”

  “I often daydream about snapping my fingers and going back to Ras’s parents’ house in Montclair—flat broke but happy.”

  “But in reality, you’d never trade this. Not for anything. Would you?”

  Josephine looked down at her desk and adjusted some paperwork. She cleared her throat and then stood up and walked over to the rolling racks, where several of her gowns were hanging in various stages of completion.

  “When Ras first began to sell records and make real money, I went shopping every day. It became a religion. I’d wake up, call a friend, my driver would take me from one mall to the next. I kept binders of everything I purchased. I had a stylist call me when something I wanted was available. It was like having a full-time job!”

  Josephine took a dress off the rack, a black satin evening gown that swept the floor. “And I would come home and try on my new clothes. And then lie on the sofa waiting for Ras to come home.”

  “You could travel too,” Alex said.

  Josephine rolled her eyes. “Travel. Please. Do you know how boring the islands can be when you’re alone? No fun in that. Trust me.”

  “Is that why you started your bridal line?”

  “No husband wants to leave the house in the morning, kiss his wife on the cheek, and then come home and see her in the same spot where he left her. That just won’t work.”

  Alex nodded slowly.

  “I have to contribute to this household,” Josephine said, turning her back to Alex and hanging up the dress. “I don’t care that I only bring in one percent of the money. I have to do something.”

  “Why clothing?”

  “Always I’ve designed clothes. Growing up in D.R. and spending time in France, I dreamt of designing wedding dresses. I love rich fabrics, the tactile feeling of selecting the right brocade or the perfect handmade lace.”

  “You didn’t have the same experience growing up in the Caribbean that your husband did.”

  “You mean eating dirt cakes and selling tainted meat? No, I did not. Very different. Boarding school. Servants. Summer homes. The works.”

  “I know that in your culture, a woman of your … complexion wouldn’t ordinarily—”

  Josephine interrupted Alex. “My mother was five shades darker than Ras. My father’s parents were horrified that he would marry someone so dark. My paternal grandmother raised me after my grandma died. And she got down on her hands and knees and begged me not to marry a negro.”

  “The color thing is that deep …” Alex whispered.

  “No, it’
s deeper,” Josephine said. “Can you imagine. My grandmother begging me not to marry someone black? The shame of having a child ruining all chances to continue lightening the line was more than she could bear.”

  Alex nodded. “I read a study that although ninety percent of the Dominican population has African roots, only eleven percent identify as black.”

  “I call that the Sammy Sosa effect,” Josephine said, rolling her eyes.

  Alex smiled and grimaced.

  “Well, you and Ras have been together for a while,” said Alex. “Is your grandmother over it now?”

  “I’d imagine so. She’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I think she wanted to make sure I wouldn’t have any babies at all. We’ve been trying since our wedding night and—” Josephine threw up her hands.

  Alex shifted in her seat. “Josephine, I have to ask you about Cleo Wright. It’s rumored that—”

  Josephine raised a hand to stop Alex from speaking. “I don’t talk about her. She doesn’t exist to me.”

  “I just need to know if you ever—”

  “Alex, have I not shared my story with you? I’ve told you everything you’ve asked. And more. Just don’t ask me about her.”

  “But I’m trying to tell your story. People want to know about—”

  “About what, Alex? They want to know that my husband cheated on me. Fine. Tell them. She’s telling the whole goddamned world anyway.” Josephine waved an arm like she was shooing Alex away. “Go on. Tell them about dumb Josephine.”

  “Why did you stay?”

  “Would you stay with your man under the same circumstances?”

  Alex looked down at the floor and shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t. Maybe if only a few people knew about it. But not if—”

  “Not if the woman was writing a book about it.”

  “Right. I don’t know if we could live that down.”

  “I don’t know if I can live it down either. He had a nickname for this girl. A nickname.”

  “What was it?”

  “Marasa,” Josephine said.

  Alex wrinkled her eyebrows. “Marasa?”

  “You know the name?”

  “I did some work in Jamaica for my senior thesis.”

  “And?”

  “And in Jamaican voodoo culture, everyone has a twin,” Alex said. “It’s called marasa. The former president of Jamaica said his successor was his twin. Something about one can’t live on earth—or in the underworld—without the other.”

  Josephine nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. “You can imagine how it feels to find out your husband thinks of his mistress as his twin.”

  Alex turned a page in her notebook and began to scribble while talking. “So do you believe in this theory of twinship? Do you believe that Ras was drawn to Cleo because they shared a kinship?”

  Josephine shrugged. “Ras could not resist her. That is all I know. I knelt on this floor at my husband’s feet. I was bent from the waist, heaving and sobbing. Begging my husband not to walk out the door. He stepped over me and into Marasa’s arms. I know my husband. I know him like I know myself. That man—during that time? That was not my husband.”

  “And so you feel like you can be with him today because …”

  “Because that was not him, don’t you understand? If he was in love with another woman, I would have left and not looked back. You can’t come back from falling in love with someone else. But this was different.”

  Alex looked confused.

  Josephine smiled. “My husband was unwell.”

  “And how did he recover?”

  “I don’t know for sure that he has.”

  Alex opened her mouth to ask a question just as Mali opened the door to Josephine’s office.

  “Mrs. Bennett,” she said. “I need to speak to you in private.”

  Josephine was up from her desk before Mali finished speaking. “Excuse me,” she said to Alex, without looking in her direction or waiting for a response.

  Mali led Josephine to the kitchen, then turned to face her boss. Josephine put both hands on Mali’s shoulders and leaned down a bit to look her directly in the eye.

  “You heard from Marie? What’s going on? Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine. Her water just broke.”

  Josephine put a hand to her mouth. All she could manage to say was “Oh.”

  “Now, Mrs. Bennett, they don’t know how long it will take at this point. It could be hours.”

  “Right. I understand.”

  “My mother thought you might want to stay put and wait until things got moving before driving to the hospital.”

  Josephine nodded slowly. “Makes sense. Did you tell my husband?”

  “Yes, he’s on a conference call in his office. He said he’s ready to go whenever you are.”

  Josephine tried to focus on breathing in and out. She was so anxious that she was two seconds away from wetting herself.

  “Breathe, Mrs. Bennett.”

  “Thank you. I’m going to go upstairs for a moment. Can you please let Alex know that I’ve had an emergency?”

  “Of course. I’ll schedule another appointment.”

  “I forgot to tell you, Marie didn’t go to Good Samaritan Hospital. She went to Valley instead.”

  Josephine froze. “Why?”

  Mali shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe she was afraid she wouldn’t make it in time.”

  “But what about her obstetrician? Are we sure he has privileges there?”

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” Mali said. “Don’t worry.”

  “Don’t worry. Don’t worry. Don’t worry,” Josephine said. She brought her fingers to her mouth and chewed on the thick skin on the side of her thumb—a nasty habit that had been beaten out of her years earlier by the nuns at the Convent of the Daughters of Mary Queen Immaculate.

  “I’ll go speak with Ms. Maxwell.”

  “You know what? I will tell her. Thank you.”

  Josephine went down the hall to her office. Alex had her head buried in her notebook, scribbling furiously, when she walked in.

  “Alex, my apologies. A lot of excitement happening here today.”

  “Good things, I hope?”

  “What kind of story are you writing about me?”

  “An honest one.”

  Josephine tossed her hair and grimaced. “The worst kind. Listen. You must be gentle with me.”

  “My kind aren’t known for that,” Alex said with a smile.

  “I’m going to become a mother very soon,” Josephine said. “And it’s been quite a journey.”

  Just hearing herself say the sentence made her heart stretch out to fill her chest. Josephine had never given herself the luxury of saying it out loud: I’m going to become a mother. But after hearing that the young girl was in labor, she began to give herself some breathing room.

  “Congratulations!” Alex said, scanning Josephine’s midsection. “I thought you said—”

  “Not from my body,” Josephine said. “I’ve had some trouble. But a young girl from my hometown …”

  Alex nodded. “Still a time to celebrate.”

  “Indeed. It’s the only thing I have not been able to share with my husband. I know it’s not politically correct to say this, but I don’t feel like we’re really a family without a child to complete us.”

  “Boy or girl?” Alex asked.

  Josephine closed her eyes and turned her head toward the ceiling. “We didn’t want to know. We’ll take what we get.”

  “But secretly … ,” Alex said in a soft voice.

  Josephine whipped her head down to look at Alex. She bit her bottom lip and swooned. “Oh, a little girl would be so heavenly.” She sighed.

  “I can see you with a little girl,” said Alex. “Decked out in couture on the way home from the hospital.”

  Josephine went to her desk, opened a cabinet on the right side, and pulled out a white leather box. She placed the box on her desk,
lifted the lid, and moved aside some white tissue paper. She pulled out a tiny all-white dress in plush velvet with satin trim and a full crinoline underneath.

  “Oh, Josephine,” Alex gasped. “It’s beautiful.”

  Josephine shrugged. “I had some leftover velvet. I was going to make it for a doll. But then it started to make sense as an outfit. If it’s a boy …”

  “You’ll save it for the next one.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears,” Josephine whispered. “Alex, I hope I’ve given you enough for your story.”

  “More than enough. I didn’t expect you to be so open with me.”

  “I figured this might be my only place to defend myself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, once your book comes out …”

  “My book?”

  “Alex, you’re ghostwriting that whore’s book.”

  “How’d you know that?”

  Josephine’s eyes twinkled. She leaned back on her desk, crossed her arms, and smirked. “Same way I know I only got the cover of S.O.C.A. so that your man could get some time in the studio with my husband.”

  Alex’s eyes widened and she attempted to think of something to blurt out that would make sense.

  “Oh? You thought I was dumb? You don’t think I know where most of my business comes from? You don’t think I know that Kipenzi models for me every year so Jake can get a hit record from my husband?”

  “That doesn’t bother you?” Alex managed to ask, her eyes on the floor.

  Josephine let a pfft fly out of her mouth. “It would only bother me if the checks didn’t clear.”

  “Why’d you agree to let me interview you,” Alex asked, “if you knew I was the one writing the book about Cleo?”

  “I want you to know me. Understand me. I don’t want to be a nameless, faceless victim in this Vibe story or in this woman’s book.”

  Alex nodded.

  “I have to go now. On my way to the hospital,” Josephine said. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Good luck,” Alex said. “I’ll be thinking about you.”

  “Don’t just think,” Josephine said, holding out her arms and bringing in Alex for a hug. “Pray for me too.”

  “YO. WHY ARE YOU HERE?” THE MAN ASKED.

  Cleo sat up, pushed her hair back out of her eyes, and exhaled. “What do you mean?”