“Yes, I did. And this breakfast is for the newest, sexiest partner at The Agency,” he says as he sits next to me. He takes his watch off the nightstand and puts it on.
“I haven’t gotten it yet,” I say as I take a bite of the omelette. “What are you doing up and dressed so early?”
“Unfortunately,” he says as he nuzzles my neck with his lips, “I’ve got a breakfast meeting, so instead of making love you’ll have to enjoy this good-luck breakfast.”
“That’s so sweet. Thank you, baby.”
“Anything for you, baby,” he says as he slips on his suit jacket. “Now, call me as soon as you get the word that you are officially the most powerful black woman in Hollywood, and then we’re celebrating all night. I’ve planned our entire evening.”
“Oh, I can’t wait. But are you sure you don’t want to stick around for a few more minutes?” I ask suggestively as I let the sheet drop down to my waist.
“You’re not playing fair,” he groans as he slips back into the bed. I wrap my arms and legs around his body. “You know I’d rather stay here, but I’ve got to go.”
“Okay, buddy, but you don’t know what you’re missing,” I joke.
“Oh, I know all right,” he says as he kisses me and then cups my face in his hands. “I love you, Trista.” Before I can help myself the words slip out: “I love you, too, Garrett.” I could barely hide my smile. Oh, my God. Did we say we love each other? I kiss him back as he says it again and then I say it again. He finally pulls away, smiling tenderly. “I’ll see you later, baby.”
I watch him walk out of my bedroom. Squealing, I lean back against the pillows. He loves me!
I wolf down the rest of my breakfast and then jump into the shower. I put on a white Jil Sander suit with a strapless red silk top that I’m sure will be perfect for wherever Garrett is taking me later to celebrate. Once dressed, I slip my feet into strappy black stilettos and pin a polka-dot silk flower to my lapel to complete my look. Time to go to work.
In addition to partner announcements being made today, it’s also bonus time. From a thousand dollars for the guys in building services to seven-figure checks for some of the partners, an obscene amount of money will be handed out as each employee is called into Mr. Banks’ office. People have been buzzing all week about the new toys they were going to buy. I have my eye on a cute little silver Mercedes SLK 350 Roadster that I plan to have dropped off at the end of the week.
Jake, the valet in the parking garage who only parks for the partners and visiting VIPs, misses my wave as I walk by his small office. We’ll have plenty to talk about later when we’re scouting out my new parking space. Stepping into the lobby, I glance at the limestone plaque on the wall with all the partners’ names engraved on it. By the end of the week, there will be a new plaque up there with my name on it.
When I get to Adriene’s desk I see she’s sporting a conservative brown bob. I guess she decided to tone it down since she will be seeing Mr. Banks today, too. A bouquet of pink roses rests on the corner of her desk.
“Someone has a secret admirer,” I say, bending over to smell the fragrant flowers. “Which one of your many men are these from?”
“Those aren’t for me,” she says mischievously. I carry the flowers into my office before opening the card taped to the vase.
Good luck today, superstar! I’m proud of you.
I hope you get everything you always wanted. You deserve it.
—Damon
Did he remember that I always like these flowers? I ask Adriene to look up the number to Global Investments and get Damon on the phone.
“Damon Reynolds,” he says when Adriene puts the call through.
“Hi, Damon, it’s Trista,” I say into the speakerphone. “I was just calling to say thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like them. Did they make the announcement yet?”
“No, and how did you know it was today?”
“I told you, my boss is on the board of directors, so he was talking about a meeting they just had and said it was coming up.”
“It’s today. A company press release will go out later today.”
“So, are you celebrating tonight with Amaya and Viv?” he asks.
“Actually, I have plans with Garrett,” I answer. I feel self-conscious for some reason.
“Oh, okay…”
I interrupt him when Adriene runs into my office, gesturing for me to hang up. “Oh, Damon, I’m sorry. I’ve got to go. Thanks again for the flowers. I really appreciate it.”
“Of course. Talk to you later. Good luck.”
“It’s time,” Adriene says in a singsong voice after I hang up the phone. “Mr. Banks’ office just called for you to come over.” I whip out my compact from my desk drawer and touch up my makeup quickly.
“How do I look?” I ask Adriene.
“Like a partner,” she says as she slaps me five. “Now get going so I can start packing up all our stuff to move down to the big-dog office suites, Wheezie!” As I walk out of my office, she’s humming the old theme from The Jeffersons, “We’re Movin’ on Up,” and the tune follows me down the hall to executive row.
I CAN’T BREATHE. All the air has been sucked out of the room. I see Mr. Banks’ mouth moving but I can’t hear a word he’s saying. Instead of looking at his pale-green eyes, my gaze is fixated on the large pinkish mole in the left corner of his thin upper lip. As I watch the mole move up and down with the motion of his lips, I find myself hoping it’s skin cancer. A single bead of sweat rolls down my back into the waistband of my pants. This can’t be happening. I stopped listening after he said I didn’t make partner. My hands are clammy and shaking. I wipe them on my pants.
“Look, Trista, the other partners and I just don’t feel that you’re quite ready. You’ve done some fairly respectable work this year, as is reflected in your bonus,” Mr. Banks says as he slides a piece of paper across his desk with my bonus figure written on it. I take the paper automatically, without looking at the number. My eyes are burning with tears. “We think you could use some new challenges, so we’ve decided to restructure your area to allow you to focus on some new areas of development. We’ll consider you again for partner in another couple of years.”
Those bastards! I can’t believe they are doing this to me. I busted my ass for this firm and this is what I get? Not only was I not making partner, but they’re reshuffling my client roster and giving Jared and Cassidy to Steven—the new partner. I have to get out of here before I do something crazy. I stand up while Mr. Banks continues to speak and walk out. I hear him calling my name but I don’t turn around. They fucked me!
As I make my way down the hall, I can tell that word has started to circulate. Conversations cease as I make my way past clusters of coworkers. When I get to my office I don’t say anything to Adriene. I just grab my purse and go down to the garage. I see Jake stenciling Steven’s name on the wall. That’s why he wouldn’t look at me this morning because he’d already gotten the names of the new partners so he could start working on their parking spaces in partner row.
I am soaked with perspiration. I get into my car and turn on the air conditioning full blast and throw my blazer into the backseat. The stale air blows out of the vents as I rest my head on the steering wheel. I’m not sure I can make it home. Salty tears fall into my mouth. I’m devastated.
I glance at the digital clock on the dashboard and see that it is just after eleven. Suddenly all I can think about is getting to someone who will understand what’s just happened to me. I call Garrett’s office but his assistant tells me he called in sick today. That’s strange, he said he had a breakfast meeting this morning. Maybe he’s finished the meeting and is working on our celebration. I call his house, but when the machine picks up I don’t leave a message and instead head over there.
When I pull into the circular driveway I see Garrett’s Range Rover parked in front of the house. Good, he’s here. As I begin to walk up to th
e door to ring the bell I hear the sound of splashing water and loud rap music coming from the backyard. I follow the grassy path along the side of the house, and as I step under the portico the sun momentarily blinds me as I scan the pool area.
Garrett, who has his back to me is seated on the top step leading down into the shallow end of the infinity pool. Stepping around the large radio on the cement that’s blasting Ja Rule, I notice a pair of bright red swim trunks floating in the water beside him. Just as I am about to bust him for playing hooky from work I see something that makes me stop dead in my tracks. There is someone else in the pool. Between his legs a long dark body bobs in the water. Garrett, who has his eyes closed throws his head back in ecstasy as he aggressively pushes a man’s large bald head up and down in the water.
“Oh my God!” I try to scream, but I’m almost breathless and hardly make a sound. I step back and trip over the radio and fall down onto the hard cement.
“Trista!” Garrett says as he pushes the naked man away from him and scrambles out of the pool. As I start to get up I hear a familiar voice behind me.
“Hey, save some of that for me, man,” says Mike as he opens the sliding glass door and comes out in a neon-orange spandex thong, holding a bottle of beer. Now I know whose underwear I found under Garrett’s bed. Mike drops the bottle when he sees me on the ground. The sound of the shattering glass causes all of us to jump.
The naked man in the pool floats off toward the other end of the pool, on his back, his two gold nipple rings glinting in the bright sunlight. Garrett, his erection gone flaccid, grabs for a towel and wraps it tightly around his hips. He gestures for Mike to go back into the house. Out of the corner of my eye I see the muscular stranger slowly raise himself out of the water.
“I’ll be inside if you need me, G,” he says as he walks past us without bothering to dry off. He switches his narrow hips as he walks by and strokes a long finger along the droplets of water on Garrett’s shoulder. I don’t recognize his face but he’s sending me a message that they are lovers.
When Garrett reaches down to help me up I slap his hand away and get up on my own and sit on the lounge chair.
“You’re fucking gay?” I say, shaking my head back and forth. How can he be gay? We’ve been seeing each other for nearly a year. How could I not know? For the second time today I’m speechless.
“I’m not gay, Trista,” he says as he rakes his hand through his wet hair.
“Oh, if you’re not gay, then why was your dick in that man’s mouth? And what is Mike doing here? He’s married, for God’s sake!” I scream at him as I point at the house.
“Trista, I’m not gay,” he says again. He sits down on the lawn chair next to me and begins to talk. “Look, Trista, I’m sorry you had to see this. But I’m not gay.” I barely hear what he’s saying as the scene from the pool keeps replaying. Hadn’t he said he loved me this morning? Something penetrates my cloudy head.
“What did you say?” I ask, sure I didn’t hear him correctly.
“I said I love you, Trista. We can still build a life together. We don’t have to let this come between us.”
“Are you fucking crazy?” I look at him, sure I couldn’t have heard him correctly.
“Trista, lots of people have problems when they are first starting out, but I promise you this will never happen again.”
“How long has this been going on?” I start to cry hot angry tears for the second time today. I couldn’t look him in the face. I think back to all the times he’s mentioned hanging out with Mike and other guys, how after the gallery auction he’d gone off with him. They had spent the entire weekend together, doing God knows what. Well, actually I guess I do know what they were doing. Some freaky group shit.
“Trista, I’m not gay. This was just a thing. It doesn’t mean anything. I was just having a little fun. It will never happen again,” he mumbles feebly. “We can still have a life together, I swear. This will never happen again. I love you.” Hearing this, I snap.
“You lying bastard!” I scream at him, standing up and grabbing for the first thing I can to hit him across the face. “We made love last night! You told me you loved me. You were fucking men while your were sleeping with me!” I’m in a blind rage now. I pick up the radio and hit him across the shoulder and then toss the offending object into the pool. He turns away to deflect the blow. Grabbing the small plastic side table, I lift it up and try to swing it at his head. But Garrett easily takes it out of my hands and throws it out into the yard. He tries to grab my arms as I swing at him but I keep swinging wildly, scratching at his face with my nails. As we struggle, the towel loosens from around his hips. The nakedness I had enjoyed this morning offends me now. I knee him sharply in the groin. He releases me and drops to his knees, clutching his balls. As I look around madly for something else to hit him with, the two guys come running to help their friend.
“Don’t you fucking touch me,” I scream hysterically at Mike as he steps between me and Garrett’s moaning figure, now curled in the fetal position on the ground. My hands are balled into fists, my nails digging into my palms. My heart is beating a mile a minute, like it might jump right out of my chest.
The stranger, who has now put on an LA Sports T-shirt and long nylon basketball shorts, helps Garrett onto the lounge chair and then sits beside him. He touches him with gentle concern and familiarity.
“Who are you?” I demand from the stranger seated cozily next to my boyfriend.
“I’m DJ,” he answers frostily, draping a towel across his lover’s lap. Garrett tries to push him away but he won’t leave his side.
“And you and Garrett are lovers?” I question, incredulous, my voice catching in my throat. “And Mike, too?” Before DJ can answer, Garrett jumps in.
“Trista, I’m not gay,” he exclaims earnestly. It’s sick; it’s like he believes it.
“Could have fooled me,” DJ and I both say at the same time. DJ is clearly offended that his lover won’t acknowledge him. Mike, apparently wanting no part of the discussion, slinks back into the house.
“Tell me this, are you using condoms? Do you have any diseases?” I whisper. The thought that he might have something suddenly makes me very scared. What if he or one of his partners is HIV-positive? I wait for his answer.
“I’m totally clean, Trista. I swear.”
“Well, you’ll excuse me if I don’t actually believe anything you say,” I shoot back. I realize there’s nothing more for us to say. Garrett can deny he’s gay until the cows come home, but I have no patience for his lies. As I get up and begin to walk away, both Garrett and his friend flinch, as if I might strike him again. I’m tempted but keep walking. But I have one last thought as I step through the gate.
“No wonder your bitch-ass couldn’t eat pussy very well,” I toss nastily over my shoulder. My legs are shaking as I slip into the car and try to start it. It almost starts, so I try again. It catches the second time I turn the key, and I peel out of the driveway. I can’t get home fast enough.
MY HOUSE STINKS. The pile of dirty dishes in the sink, open containers of Chinese food, foils of Mexican, pizza boxes, and overflowing ashtrays in the living room have my normally immaculate condo smelling like a frat house. When the doorbell rings I step around the maze of newspapers, unopened mail, and magazines to make my way to the front door. I stuff a bunch of crumpled bills into the delivery boy’s outstretched hand and snatch the white paper bag. I know he thinks I’m rude but after six days of deliveries to the same address he ought to be used to the crazy black woman in the stained sweats and T-shirt. On second thought, who cares what he thinks.
Carrying the bag of food back into the living room, I clear off a space on the coffee table by pushing the pile of mail and empty cigarette cartons onto the floor. Dinner is served. I flip the channel back to the Good Times marathon I’ve been watching on TV One. Perfect, this is the one where JJ accidentally trips Thelma’s fiancé, Keith, as he’s walking down the aisle of the church, ending hi
s football career and once again dashing the Evans family’s hopes of moving out of the ghetto. As I stuff a forkful of steaming shrimp fried rice into my mouth, I think to myself: So this is what a nervous breakdown feels like.
I haven’t left my condo in a week. As soon as I got home from Garrett’s I shut all the blinds, changed my clothes, and laid my black ass on the couch. I’d had the television on all day and night because I couldn’t stand the silence. It was like voices were jumping out of my head. I’m not gay. We’re not making you a partner. The nights were the worst. I couldn’t sleep, so I’d take a sleeping pill, and then I’d wake up in a fog—until everything would come rushing back to me. The betrayals.
When I first got home, the phone was ringing off the hook. I let the calls go to the answering machine because I couldn’t deal with talking to anyone. Garrett left long messages. He said he was sending over a copy of his medical records to prove that he was clean. Whatever. Even Damon called twice a day. It was hard to ignore his persistent voice. I cut off my cell and BlackBerry and only picked up my house phone when I heard Viv’s insistent voice saying she was coming over there with the fire department to break down my door if I didn’t answer the phone. I assured her I was still alive, gave her an abbreviated version of what went down, and told her I needed to be alone.
In the space of twenty-four hours—hell, a mere three hours, actually—my whole world fell apart. I’d lost my job and my man. While TA hadn’t fired me, they had all but said I had no future at the firm. Steven, with the help of Sloane, had gotten the fruits of all my hard labor in the end. And as for Garrett, I couldn’t believe what I had seen. His little freak fest had left me shaken to my core. I scheduled an emergency appointment with my gynecologist, Dr. Woodard, for an AIDS test. It had been hard to request but I knew it was something I had to do. And while Garrett and I had always used condoms during sex, if he was sleeping with men, I couldn’t take any chances. Dr. Woodard told me I was doing the right thing and said the test results would be available in a week.
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