Once in the shower, Natalie allowed the water to reign over her body. She held her breath as the water cascaded from her head to her feet. She pretended that it was cleansing her of all of the pain that led tt fas moment. She told herself that the hot water would make her feel the way she hadn’t felt since she was seven years old…beautiful.
Chapter 42 Ilene
The big day had finally arrived. Ilene busied herself securing last minute details at the Ritz Carlton as she anticipated the rave reviews of her envious friend-foes. She had managed to make peace with Charles and she was feeling victorious.
Charles reluctantly agreed to attend the event with her and had even managed to sound excited about the night’s festivities as she rattled them off in bed. He decided that in the morning following her party he would serve Ilene with divorce papers. Though he despised her for years of infidelity and outright deception, she was still the woman that he was in love with, once upon a time. She was a woman who could command the attention of a man when she walked into a room, so it was only a matter of time before she found a way to exploit that.
He hadn’t himself been innocent, and did not care to have his dirty laundry aired in divorce proceedings. So, after ignoring the protest of his attorney, he decided that he would let her have the house. All he wanted was out of the marriage. He reasoned that he was a college educated man with connections and could easily start over. All Ilene had was, well, her body. And even that was beginning to fail her. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought of how victorious she would feel at the thought of taking their family home from him. He put on his tuxedo jacket and headed out of the door of a place he would no longer call home.
Ilene glanced down at her Piaget watch and was dismayed to find that it was already 12 o’clock. She needed to get to the salon by 12:30 and was waiting for the lighting technicians to arrive. She scoffed at the thought of leaving such intricate details to the wills of the hourly banquet staff who regarded her as a tyrant. But she had no choice. She searched the banquet room for an attendant that did not look like he was on work release. She settled for a middle aged man with “Omar” on his name tag. She wished he didn’t have to appear so ethnic as she eyed his shoulder length dread locks. After motioning for him to come to her, Omar walked assuredly to where Ilene stood overseeing that every name card was on the guest table.
“How can I help you, my sister?” Ilene paused in annoyance as he sized her up. She wished that the black attendants didn’t always assume an air of familiarity when they dealt with other black patrons. Ilene’s discomfort consumed her as she struggled to give instructions to Omar. She made sure that she introduced herself as “Mrs. Campbell”. Not Ilene. Not Miz C. Not sister. Omar attempted to inject formality in the remainder of their conversation. Ilene was unimpressed. After she informed Omar of the many details that needed to be addressed immediately, Ilene made her exit. She felt nauseous as she walked away from him. Omar proudly reassured her that he had been a banquet attendant for six years and would take care of everything. His lofty sense of achievement made her sad and then angry with him and every other black man like him that existed comfortably in mediocrity. “He’ll have to do. I just hope he doesn’t steal any of my caviar and take it to his boys in the hood.” Ilene mumbled to herself as she left the banquet hall.
On the way to her exclusive midtown salon, she checked her messages. Most were from a few friend-foes that sent their regrets for not being able to attend. She was relieved that the most talkative of the bunch would attend and virtually do all of the marketing for her. She saw that Marc had called and was probably waiting at the house for her. She instantly dialed his number to give him a piece of her mind. He answered after four rings.
“Hey ma.” Ilene was sure that he was at the house ogling with Charles as they often did.
“Hey ma? Son, why haven’t you returned my calls? I told you that I needed to talk to my sisabout this…this, Sherise person.” Ilene grimaced as Marc sighed into the phone.
“It’s nothing to talk about, ma. I have everything under control. I already told her not to call you anymore.”
“Under control? Are you serious Marchevis? This woman is claiming to be pregnant with your child. Is it true or not?”
Marc paused causing Ilene to grow impatient.
“Well is it true or not? If it is, I hope you plan on marrying her. I mean, how would that look?”
“Mom, no one’s getting married. Don’t worry about that. Today is your big day, and I know that you are excited. We’ll have plenty of time to talk about it after tonight.”
“NO, we are going to talk about it now. You mean to tell me that you are going to have this woman running around with your child inside of her and you aren’t going to marry her? I was certain that I raised you better than that. Who knows what people are saying by now?” Ilene’s native patois emerged as if often did when she was angry.
Marc’s resistance was slowly turning into annoyance.
“Look ma. I don’t know what she told you, but there is a lot you probably don’t know. I am taking care of my responsibility and you don’t have to worry, her family is not from here. No one knows her.”
Ilene could tell that Marc was becoming angry. She decided to back off a little, though she wanted to know more about the woman proclaiming love for her son and carrying her grandchild.
“Well, how is her family taking the news? Have they called you to the house to talk to them?” Ilene asked hoping that the woman was at the very least from a well bred family.
Marc’s sarcastic grunt and chuckle alarmed Ilene.
“Naw, I don’t think anyone will be calling me. They aren’t really ‘your’ kind of people.”
The thought of Marc fathering a child with a stripper turned video vixen flashed in Ilene’s mind and incited a sharp pain in her head.
“Marchevis, she at least has a college education, right? Howard? Spelman?” Ilene pleaded.
“Like I said ma, right now is not a good time to talk about this. Just know that everything is being handled. I got a lawyer and when the baby comes, we will have a paternity test and settle things.”
Ilene’s mouth dropped open.
“Paternity test! Are you kidding me? You go out and screw the nastiest hood rat you could find and now you don’t even know if the kid is yours? How could you be so stupid?” Marc took the phone from his ears as his mother continued her rant.
“There is no way that any grandchild of mine will have some chicken head as a mother. You better take care of this situation immediately. In fact, I’m gonna call that whore myself.”
“Mom, don’t get involved with this. This is none of your business.”
“Well if you were handling your damned business this wouldn’t have happened, would it? Really Marchevis! I am so ashamed of you. Of all of your stupid stunts…All the work I put into making sure that you were refined and discriminating and you go and do this to me? All those damned tennis lessons and horse riding and summers in the Hamptons. I’m gonna be the laughing stock.”
Marc rolled his eyes at his mother’s preoccupation with making everything about her. He couldn’t bring himself to disrespect her, despite her elitist attitudes. He listened quietly with measured contempt as his mother continued.
“I hope that she doesn’t think that we’re giving her a dime. She sounded like the gold-digger type. You just wait until I call that little hussie back. She sounded so sincere. That little bitch. As for you, Marchevis, I will deal with you when I see you.”
“Sure ma.” Ilene ended the call before she heard him respond.
She pulled up to the valet parking station and hopped out while the car was still running. She told the valet that was casually approaching her that she needed it to be parked in a safe place. He rolled his eyes as he entered her luxury vehicle.Ilene bypassed the receptionist and headed for the rear of the salon where she stood as her stylist Miguel finished styling another patron’s hair.
“Hear she
comes with her drama.” Ilene heard one of the other women under the dryers say as she marched toward Miguel’s station.
“How long Miguel?” Ilene asked in an annoyed tone?” “I’m finishing her up. I’ll be done in five minutes.” “Well hurry up. You know today is the big day. You’re going to be there right?”
Miguel looked up from the precision cut that he had just finished teasing.
“Oh, you know I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Miss Thang. Word on the street is that you got some celebrities coming to this thang.” Miguel smiled as he removed the cape from his beautiful client.
Ilene had not sent any invitations to anyone outside of her Alpharetta enclave and a few well known socialites who she once rubbed shoulders with at one of Charles’ charity events. Ilene doubted that they would show or much less talk casually about her event. She certainly wasn’t about to admit that to her drama starved stylist in front of a room full of onlookers.
“Well, I’ve been told by some publicists of some very important people to keep their attendance on the hush. So you certainly didn’t hear anything from me darling.”
Ilene turned and winked at Miguel as he ran his fingers through her curly long hair.
“So, we’re gonna do an up do, right?” Miguel asked as he turned her chair facing the mirror and began to sweep her hair up into a ponytail.
One of the women sitting in another stylist’s chair watched her and remarked loudly to her stylist.
“I like that weave. It looks so real. Yall got that texture here? How much you charge per track?”
Ilene overhead the woman and shot her a nasty look. The woman smiled as Ilene rolled her eyes into the back of her head.
Another patron witnessing the exchange giggled loudly and slapped the woman a high five. Ilene decided to overlook the woman’s attempt to lure her into a ghetto exchange. She was reminded of her need to call the woman who claimed to be pregnant with her grandchild. She winced as she visualized having the woman attend luncheons at her home decked out in gaudy knock off Louis Vutton headscarves and loud colored Armani-like prints.
After deciding that she needed to shut the world off for a second, Ilene reached into her handbag for the Fortune magazine she purchased in the hotel’s convenience shop. She found an article about a black businessman named Howard Devonshire who was quickly conquering the commercial real estate world in Atlanta. The article didn’t mention any kids or a wife. Ilene smiled as she folded the pages of the article so that she could reference it easily later. Maybe she could arrange a “chance encounter” sometime in the very near future. Her prospect of saving her marriage to Charles was fading fast and she desperately needed a sound back up plan.
Thirty minutes after she first sat in his chair, Ilene’s sleek chignon was immaculate and tasteful. She slid Miguel a one hundred dollar bill and left the salon being watched by envious women who wished that she would trip and fall on the way out. Ilene reveled in the negative attention and exaggerated her swagger to further irritate the women.
The valet brought her car around and she slid into the vehicle and handed the attendant a five dollar bill. He quickly shoved the money in his pocket without thanking her or wishing her a good day. Ilene’s annoyance surged as she slammed her door and sped off.
She cruised through Atlanta’s posh Buckhead area only stopping to pick up her custom tailored gown and pearl and platinum necklace from her personal jeweler. She had only a few hours before her bash and had to rush back home to meet the make up artist she had hired for this day. She had hoped that Charles and Marc had the good sense to be dressed since the photographer from Society magazine would be arriving any minute to photograph her preparing for the event.
Ilene sent the magazine’s editor several invitations before one of the junior reporters called her and informed her that they would be covering her event. As she had rehearsed countless times before, Ilene acted surprised and honored that they would pick her “little ole party” to be in their prestigious magazine.
As she drove up the driveway of her home, Ilene eyed a Bentley parked prominently in front of her home. She glowed as she savored the thought of her neighbors witnessing this impressive display of class and wealth. When she approached her foyer and grand entry, she found a very flamboyant and plump middle aged white man sitting impatiently with his white fluff of a dog with pink highlights and malnourished looking assistant standing with an appointment book. The size 0 assistant walked over to Ilene as she approached and began to speak in hushed tones.
“Ms. Campbell? Yes, hi. I’m Shaun, Mr. Alesandro’s assistant. Listen, darling, I know you must have a lot to do dear, but Mr. Alesandro decided to push your appointment up an hour so that he could have enough time between clients. He’s doing a shoot for J-Lo after you and you know how that heifer can get when she doesn’t have her air brushed bronzer. I hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”
Ilene glanced at the snobbish make up artist who was charging her $3,000 an hour and hoped he could deliver all that the celebrity magazines had raved about him.
“Certainly. It’s not a problem at all.” The timid assistant clapped his hands excitedly and exchanged air kisses with Ilene.
“Very good then. We’ll just set up and he will start at once. Tell me, where is your staging room? Mr. Alesandro likes to survey the room before he starts working. He believes in having a balanced environment where he works.” Shaun looked around expectantly.
Ilene grew nervous as she unlocked the door and ushered the men into her expansive two-story granite and glass foyer.
“Actually, he can work in my sitting room. It has plenty of natural light and is very roomy. Is that okay?” Ilene asked as she glanced over at the sour faced expression on Javier Alesandro’s face. Shaun didn’t bother to turn around.
“I imagine we can make do. But I do need to beg a favor, dear. ” Ilene held her breath as she waited for the command.
“Sure, anything you need.” Ilene said.
“Could you please get us a glass of water? Preferably Fiji, at room temperature.”
Ilene was relieved that she had some bottles of the pricey water left over from entertaining her friend-foes last month.
“Of course. I’ll have it sent right up.”
The two very particular men walked up the double stairs in the entry hall and headed towards the room that Ilene had described to them, appearing hesitant to touch anything. When they were safely out of sight, Ilene rushed to the kitchen pantry and grabbed two bottles. She meticulously cleaned two crystal goblets and placed the items on a silver serving tray. She secretly reveled in the fact that the man who was doing her make up regularly worked with people like J-Lo and Vanessa Williams. She shared the same skin complexion as these women and hoped that she would look even better than they did by the end of her session.
“Chuck! Marc!” Ilene called out to the men but was unanswered. She figured that they were off somewhere talking about Marc’s drama. The thought of it made her feel nauseous as she shook off the thought of her grandchild having some ridiculously ethnic name like Mercedes or Alize or even worse, Kameisha. Ilene then jogged up the stairs and proudly presented Mr. Alesandro with the water.
“I’m sorry that I had to serve, my housekeeper seemed to have up and disappeared. It’s so difficult to get reliable help in this area.” Ilene exaggerated.
Mr. Alesandro appeared unmoved. He uttered a cursory thank you and returned to instructing Shaun on how to set up his make up pallet. Ilene’s heart dropped as he dutifully poured the water into the brilliantly sparkling crystal goblet and placed it on the floor for his Maltese lap dog Vivi to drink from. Ilene pretended to be unaffected by this as Shaun gauged her response. He quickly spoke in an effort to distract Ilene.
“So, you have cleansed and exfoliated your skin, right?’
“Oh yes, of course.” Ilene lied.
“Then come over here and sit. I can begin. Shaun, arrange my brushes...” Mr. Alesandro motioned for Ilene to come an
d sit down. Ilene quickly took her seat and attempted small talk with the celebrated make up artist.
“So, if you have time later, maybe you can stop by this soiree that I am having at the Ritz Carlton tonight.”
Mr. Alesandro did not reveal any emotion.
“I don’t think so. Please stop talking. You are making it more difficult to conceal the lines that form in the crease of your forehead.”
Ilene was offended but knew better than to say anything to offend the temperamental make up artist. She sat remarkably still and mute for the next hour as her face was done. The room became eerily quiet as he worked, with only the sound of Vivi sipping a five dollar bottle of water out of a two hundred dollar goblet.
Ilene was elated to see her beautifully made face after Mr. Alesandro stepped away from her like he had just completed a magnificent work of art. He looked at Ilene and nodded at Shaun. After being queued, Shaun turned to Ilene.
“Okay Ms. Ilene, you look fabulous. Mr. Alesandro suggests that you use these skin care products in his line to get rid of a few wrinkles he noticed. It includes an anti-aging serum, detoxifier, and weekly exfoliation masks. The entire treatment is only twelve hundred dollars. This spritz is a finisher. It locks your make up in place. You might want to freshen up every four hours or so. Here is our card if you have another event. Oh, but please be very cautious about who you refer. Mr. Alesandro is very selective about his clientele.”
Ilene smiled after giving authorizing the men to charge $5,000 from “her” Black Amex and showed the gentlemen to the door. As they walked out, Charles and Marc pulled up in a monstrosity of a truck. Ilene was mortified by what the two would say to the very gay men leaving the house. She quickly hurried into the house before they could see her. The two men came into the house minutes later giggling about what they had just witnessed. Ilene confronted them head on.
“Charles, what the hell is that?”
Charles maintained his confident smile.
A Price to Pay for Everything Page 28