by Vera Roberts
“Good, Domi,” he smiles, “anything else?”
“Um, no,” I shake my head, “that’s it. Thank you.” I gather my items and leave Ian’s office as I crisscross Frank’s new one, which was my old one. I stop when I see an obvious wedding photo of Frank and his groom, Michael.
Michael is tall, lanky, and has a closely cropped haircut that’s almost like a bowl, but not quite. He has the most adorable green eyes and even brighter smile. They wore matching tuxedos while their bridesmaids wore wedding dresses. Rad.
“How’s it like?” I ask as I admire the picture. “Being married?”
“It’s wonderful. It’s finally nice to have the same freedoms everyone else has,” Frank smiles at me, “but it’s nice to come home to someone and not wonder what they’re doing or who they’re with.”
I know Frank wasn’t trying to be a dick but what he said really was a dick move.
“Are you and Ian thinking about marriage?” He gently inquires.
“I don’t know.” Liar. “We haven’t really made any progress towards that.” Liar. “But we’re not ruling it out.” Pants on fire. “So, we’ll see. We haven’t really discussed it at length.” Okay, now that one is true.
“If you two ever decide on it, don’t tread lightly on it. Too many people see the big weddings and exotic honeymoons, and forget there’s a marriage when they come home. The same preparation that goes into the wedding should be twice as much going into the marriage.” He nods. “My parents have been married almost thirty years and they love each other more than they did on their wedding day. They set the perfect example for us.”
My hearts warms to what Ian said about his parents. Technically speaking, my parents were married until my mother’s death, though I honestly believe my father checked out long before that. “That’s so beautiful.”
“It truly is,” Frank grins, “well, I need to get back to work. Let me know if you need anything else, Domi.”
“Oh yeah, thanks again!” I head out the door and walk through the Ferguson again. It’s weird being here in a different way. Just a few months ago, I was Ian’s assistant. Now I’m his girlfriend and everyone knows this. As I stopped and chatted with a few old co-workers and told them all about my studio opening, I see a surprise guest.
Rose. And I’m getting Grandma with the Werther’s from her. “Rose!”
“Dominique!” She rushes over to me and gives me a big bear hug. She’s still wearing that same shade of fuchsia lipstick with the same kitten heels. “How are you?”
“I’m doing well. It’s great seeing you!” I notice a glow on the older woman. “You look great!”
“Well, I’ve been meaning to talk to you but I haven’t had the time.” Rose pulls me to a hidden corner and looks around to see if anyone is within earshot. “My husband and I watched your videos.”
Uh-oh. This can’t be good. “Yes?”
“And I have to say, your videos did the trick in putting some spice back into our bedroom! It’s been non-stop like a honeymoon!” She blushes. Dang, Rose gets it like that? Shoot, I hope I can still get it in when I’m her age! “So, I want to thank you. Keep up the good work! I’m afraid I won’t be able to attend any of your classes but I’ll be sure to watch your videos!” She gives me a hug again before she leaves.
I stand there in silence, stunned. Rose and her husband are still getting it in, huh? God bless them both. That’s awesome.
I’m just about out the door when I hear a throat clearing. I turn around and see my once-nemesis-but-we-ain’t-that-cool-to-be-kinfolk-just-quite-yet stand before me.
Gerald.
He’s the master of the three-piece suits. He’ll even wear one in a hundred degree weather. He quickly walks over to me like he has a stick up his ass and he’s trying to remove it. That’s not a far-fetched thought.
“Hello, Gerald,” I smile to him, but it quickly disappears as I see he doesn’t return the smile. Okay, so all that shit he did for my mother was for show? Got it.
“I need to talk to you immediately.” He pulls me into his office and closes the door behind him.
Gerald’s office is in direct contrast of Ian’s. While Ian’s was contemporary, Gerald’s office is very old-school and old money. He also has expensive paintings on his wall and I don’t have to wonder if they’re the originals. “Yes?” I ask.
“I’ll make this short and sweet because I don’t have the time nor the want to entertain this even more than you do,” he begins as he perches himself on his desk, “in a few weeks, you’re going to do a private show at the Avant-Garde for some shareholders. Ian is already aware of this and has reluctantly agreed to it. I need you to be on your best behavior.”
Private show? Ian agreed I will do a private show without asking me ahead of time? What in the absolute fuck?
“I’m not a show dog that you, or your bastard brother can entertain in front of guests.” I’m raging pissed inside but I don’t have a cup of overpriced coffee in my hand to throw at Gerald – again. “This conversation is over.” I turn to leave when Gerald’s words stop me again.
“Your pay for the performance is five hundred thousand, Domi.” He begins. “Five hundred thousand is a whole lot more money you’re going to ever receive from Ian just by being his girlfriend. This is for our wealthy shareholders who’ve specifically requested you. You’re going to be doing this for the family.”
If this is what being a part of billionaire dynasty is about, I don’t want it. “Bullshit, Ian would never agree to this.”
“Oh, but he has,” Gerald opens his iPhone and hands it over to me.
As clear as day is the email exchange between Ian and Gerald about me. Don’t worry about Domi; she’ll do anything I’ll ask her to.
Oh? I would, huh? All right. I definitely see how it is now. You give a man your virginity and he acts like he owns your ass. Fine. If this is the game Ian wants to play, I’ll beat him.
I’ll do the show and then I’ll dump his ass. I have no incentive to stay. If I’m getting five hundred thousand for the show, plus the artwork I have on loan, and my studio, why in the hell would I need Ian for?
“I’ll do it.”
Fifteen
“Mm-mmm,” Adrienne shakes her now fire-engine red shoulder-length weave at me as we head to 3121 to meet Step-Mommy Dearest. “That doesn’t sound like Ian.”
“I saw the email exchange with my own eyes!” I countered as I drove us in the Bentley-I’m-not-giving-back-no-matter-how-much-my-boyfriend-pisses-me-off. “Ian said I would do it. His words, Adrienne! His words! She’ll do anything I’ll ask her to. C’mon! You know that sounds just like him!”
“That still doesn’t sound like him. I know Ian and he wouldn’t pimp you out like that.” Adrienne defends Ian for reasons that makes me question if we’re biologically related. “I don’t think he would.”
“Why are you defending him?” I reply. “And why is it so hard to believe my boyfriend isn’t the absolute dick of all dicks?”
“What business meeting do shareholders have where they need a pole dancer?” Adrienne questions. “I mean, really, Sister? Have you ever heard of that?”
“Lots of executives and wealthy people go to strip clubs,” I argue.
“We’re not talking a strip club nor are we talking about you stripping. We’re talking about you giving a private pole dance and for five hundred thousand? Are you serious?” Adrienne shakes her new weave. “I don’t buy it. Not at all.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I shake my head, “he’s flying in tonight, will be there for the grand opening tomorrow, and then he flies back to Sydney, who he’s probably boning, on Sunday. By the time he gets back, I’ll be moved out and in a different zip code.”
“You’re still hung up on Sydney, huh?” Adrienne tsked. “You’re jealous, and think he’s trying to pimp you out while he’s entertaining another woman around the world. Maybe you should break up for his sake.”
“Fuck you,” I shake my head, “I need
support and I’m getting laughed at by you. Thanks, but no thanks.”
I pull up to the valet who takes the car without giving me a ticket. I guess the same treatment I’m getting at Sentiment also applies at 3121. Damn, I’m going to miss this shit.
“Sister, wait.” Adrienne pulls me back before we head inside. She takes a deep breath and looks around the bright Santa Monica November sky. “I’m sorry I made you upset and I sincerely didn’t mean to. But honey, this Ian pimping you out story just doesn’t pass the smell test. I’m doing the mathematics, adding the one, subtracting the seven, carrying the three, and it still makes no damn sense. Something doesn’t sound right here and I can’t put my finger on it. But before you do anything stupid, talk to Ian about what Gerald said. It might be a misunderstanding.”
“And if it’s not?” I ask. “Then what?”
“Then you got paid and you get move on. But I think things aren’t what they seem.” She slowly nods. “But I can’t figure out what, though.”
“I hope you’re right,” I let out a small sigh. I know Adrienne is right but it still doesn’t change the fact Ian and his family crossed a line they know they shouldn’t have. “Never mind about that. Are you ready to meet The StepMother Who Wishes She Would?”
“I don’t understand the purpose of this,” Adrienne interlocks arms with me as we head inside, “what in the blue hell could she want? She got the house, she has Sam, she doesn’t want a relationship with us…she has everything she could want. Why bother?”
It occurred to me that Candy still hadn’t said anything on my Facebook wall. I wonder if she truly wanted to be friends or if she just wanted to be nosey. “I don’t know but I guess we’ll find out.” We walk up to the maître’d and straightened ourselves out. “Hello, I’m Dominique Kimbrough. I requested a table for three?”
“Yes, Miss Kimbrough.” The maître’d leads us towards the back. “We made a slight amendment to your table. It’s now for six. Your party said it would be okay with you.”
Oh no, she didn’t. “Oh?” I look over to Adrienne. I can think of Sam being the other member but I’m unsure who the sixth Temptation would be. “Where are they?”
“Here’s your party, Miss.” He led us to a table of four blonde women, laughing and sharing what looks like a very expensive bottle of wine that I more than likely will be paying for. In fact, I have a feeling I’m paying for this entire lunch. It quickly occurs to me Candy was the one that suggested 3121, not me.
Somebody’s getting cussed out today. “Thank you.” I reply to the maître’d as Adrienne and I walk towards the table.
Upon our arrival, I see the faces of the ladies change as they realize I didn’t come alone at all. Just like how Candy forgot to mention she was bringing her Mean Girls squad, I didn’t mention I was bringing Adrienne with me.
By the looks of the Republican National Convention before us, you just know they’re afraid of the two of the three things they’re most scared of – Negroes, and any member of LGBTQ. (The other would be Muslims.)
“Genesis!” Candy stands up and gives me a hug like we’re old friends. No, we ain’t cool like that! “Oh, hello Adrienne,” Candy gives a weak smile. She gives my sister a polite handshake. Adrienne and I immediately exchanged side eyes. It’s clear she’s being nice and wasn’t expecting my sister to show up with me. Well, I wasn’t expecting you to be a homewrecker, Candy, so I say we’re even.
“I thought it would be nice for us to get together and have lunch,” Candy smiles. “I feel we don’t really have a connection, Genesis, and I would like for us to have one.”
My eyes softly narrow at Candy’s. I feel there’s an ulterior motive between her sudden warmth. She gleefully ignored me for weeks, only to suddenly invite me out to lunch after my internet fame? I don’t know if I like that.
Still, she could be serious and I don’t want to ruin the opportunity of having some type of relationship with her, even if it’s a distant one. “Sure.”
We both sit directly across from each other at the long table. An older, blonde – I presume is Candy’s mother – slightly scoots her chair from the right of Adrienne, as if my sister has cooties. This is going to be a very short lunch.
The server comes with our menus and Adrienne and I look over them. Despite knowing Ian for the better part of two years, I’m still not used to the fine dining he does. I’m honestly good with some Popeye’s and a Blue Moon. Ooh, and a McDonald’s apple pie for dessert. Man, they’re slammin’! “Do you know what you’re getting, sis?” I ask.
“Not a clue,” she studies the menu, “everything looks so meticulous here. Does Ian do the menu himself?”
“Yep, and he changes it every month,” I add, “he likes routine in other areas in his life but not necessarily food.”
“Makes sense,” she agrees, “I guess with all of that experience he has, he doesn’t want to do the same thing over and over.”
I look up and see Adrienne smiling at me with a knowing smirk. Oh, we both knew exactly what she was referring to and she knows I’m in the middle of an Ian sex drought. “Stop it.” I reply as I’m still deciding on a choice.
“Does he cook still?” She asks.
“He’s in the kitchen all of the time,” I reply as my thoughts turn back to food. Ian makes wonderful dishes and he introduced me to new and exotic foods. I even developed a taste for caviar, to my surprise, though I have to admit I like the black kind, and not the red.
I immediately think of one of the last times we were together before he left. As always, I was perched on the counter as he prepared dinner. “Try this,” he hands me a handmade sweet potato chip. “See if you like it.”
I carefully took it away from him and examined it as if it was a science experiment in my high school biology class. “What is it?”
“Caviar with goat cheese,” he replied, “we’re testing a new appetizer menu and I want to see if the patrons would like this. You’re the pickiest eater I know aside from Gerald so if you like it, I know everyone else will.”
“Somewhere, there’s a compliment…” I cock my head to the side.
“Try it, angel,” he gives him a nudge, “I need your honest opinion.”
“Okay, here goes nothing!” I never had caviar before and the thought of fish eggs doesn’t sound appealing to me. But if this is what the rich and fameless does, then so be it. I take a bite of it and my mouth feels like an orgy inside. The crispness of the chip, compounded by the saltiness of the caviar, added in with the creaminess of the goat cheese was to die for. “Holy crap, that’s amazing, baby!”
“You like it?” He flashed a big smile.
“It’s so good!” I quickly chewed. “Can I have another?”
“Sure, you can have them all!” He put the rest on a plate for me. “I’ll debut this at 3121 in a few weeks,” He stood in front of my legs as I fed him a chip. “It’ll be part of a three-course meal. I’ll call it the…”
“Angel,” I study the menu and see the caviar appetizer as the first course of a meal named after me. The memory fades into the background and I sigh. Now I’m wondering if I’m mad at the wrong person.
Adrienne reaches over and grabs my hand. “Are you okay, Sister?”
“Yeah,” I softly nod and meet eyes with her, “I’ll talk to him when he gets home tonight.”
“I think that’s a great idea.” Adrienne nods.
“So Genesis, let me introduce you to everyone!” Candy interrupts our sister moment and I’m even more annoyed. “This is my sister, Leanne. My best friend, Rachel, and our mother, Addy.”
Blonde, Blonder, and Blondest. I smile politely at them. “Hello everyone. This is my sister, Adrienne.” We smile and exchange pleasant hellos.
“How have you been, Genesis?” Candy asks. “I haven’t seen you in forever! All I ever hear about you is what’s being posted online!”
Well, you could reach out and touch someone. “I’m good. Just busy getting the studio ready. It opens tomorrow.
”
“Now what kind of studio is it?” Blonder asks.
“It’s a dance studio. I teach pole dancing classes.” I nod. Why do I feel like I’m being interviewed?
“Oh, that’s cool. What other classes will you teach?” Blonde asks.
“Well, for now, just the pole dancing but I’m hoping to get other instructors to teach yoga and other types of dancing.” I reply. Yep, this is a job interview.
“And what do you do, Adrienne?” Blondest asks.
“I’m a housewife,” Adrienne grins.
“Oh,” Blondest is taken aback. “How many children do you have?”
“None,” Adrienne shakes her head, “we’re waiting for the right time to decide when my husband should get pregnant.”
I covered my mouth before a snort could escape as I heard the small gasps from around the table. My sister is bringing a much-needed comic relief to a tense situation. I don’t know I ever thought she was never on my team.
“Genesis, I wanted to talk to you about the pregnancy,” Candy changes the subject before any questions could come out. “You know I’m about to have your sibling and I know we haven’t been close so I wanted to keep you updated with the pregnancy.”
What is there to update? I know your cravings, your moods. Your #sohungry, #preggocravings, and #getinmybelly hashtags. I even know your registry – all five of them. “Okay,” I politely answer.
“Your father’s been pretty busy lately and we’re on a bit of a budget since we’re moving to Ladera Heights for our expanding family.”
“And Ladera Heights is safer,” Blonder chimes in, “a lot of professionals live there.”
Baldwin Hills is the home to many a rapper, athlete, celebrity, and their respective entourages. I don’t have the time to go into why it doesn’t matter how much money a black person has, they’ll still be considered a nigger to most white people so I just keep my mouth shut and politely smile. “Uh-huh.”
“So, you know I’m three months pregnant now and I started planning my shower in a few months!” Candy beams. “And I wanted to include you in the process.”