Lady Balls

by Crowe, Liz

  “As if. I give them six months before he dumps her fat ass. And I don’t want her on the team, Ronnie. She’s such a—”

  “Lucky bitch?” Kayla burst out of the stall as she spoke. She glared at the Barbie-doll so-called teammate standing outside the line of stalls. The girl had the good grace to blush and look away. “Yeah, that’s me. And by the way, Ronnie, wherever you are, I am Angela Fucking Davis—at least to you.” She turned to the blonde chick at the door. “She’s an angry black woman, like me.”

  Ears ringing, she ran back out into the teeming crowd, called for a ride, and left without a single word to anyone else. The condo was dark and she barely made it to the couch before she passed out, even as she knew her happy bubble had been officially popped.

  When she woke, blinking in the morning light pouring in through the wall of windows, J.D. had already left. He’d sent a text.

  J.D.: Flying out to L.A. this morning. See you at the awards dinner. Love you, you sloppy drunk you.

  She stared at the words, blearily, her head pounding in time with her heart when a second text from him appeared.

  J.D.: About to take off. I’ve made some arrangements for you and Marlo the day of the dinner. Matilde will email you the details.

  He’d added an emoji smoochy face. She got up and drank two glasses of water, then climbed into his—their—bed, her mind as blank as she could manage. She’d deal with all this … after she got some actual sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Kayla spent the day of the DSN awards with Marlo getting massaged, primped, and generally spoiled rotten. J.D.’s arrangements for them had included overnight at the Ritz Carlton, in the penthouse suite, of course, which boasted the best view of the rapidly reviving downtown Detroit. She’d only exchanged minimal, non-committal text messages with him while he had his movie-producer meeting in LA. Which suited her fine, since she was still wrapping her mind around all she’d experienced in the couple of weeks, up to and including her supposed teammates’ commentary about him dumping her fat ass in six months.

  “You are one lucky bitch,” Marlo said for the zillionth time as they sat with cucumbers on their eyes while their toenails got a coat of shellac.

  “I guess.” Kayla sipped her mimosa and sighed. She’d floated through the day on a soft cloud of booze, which she knew was probably not the correct way to approach an event as important to J.D. as this one. Kayla still couldn’t bring herself to tell Marlo what she’d overheard, as if saying the words would make them even more true. She knew her friend sensed something was off about her. But she must have decided to let it go for now, to enjoy the pampering in lieu of some kind of a weepy heart-to-heart. For once, Kayla was grateful for her six sense about their friendship and her need not to talk.

  A soft knock on the door ended a giggle fest, recalling the first night she and J.D. had hooked up. Throat tight with emotion she knew would spew if she didn’t stop drinking, Kayla checked the peephole first then opened the door to find a hotel porter with a rolling luggage rack which had two long dress bags hanging on it. “What’s this?”

  “Something from Mr. Baxter, ma’am.”

  She rolled it into the room and unzipped the bag with her name on it. “Holy shitballs, J.D., what have you done now?” She slid the bag down, revealing a sleek black Dior gown cut to highlight her figure perfectly. She was proud that she had curves, and never hid them. Fuck those bitches calling her a fat ass. A dress like this … she touched the silky soft fabric … would be absolutely perfect. She flipped open the Loubutain box under the dress and whistled at the sight of a killer pair of blingy, three thousand-dollar high heels.

  “Me! Me!” Marlo squealed as she opened her dress bag. It contained a silver dress, shinier than Kayla’s, with a shorter skirt and different bias cut. “Mary mother of our man the Christ,” she said as she slid the fabric over her skin. “I think we should ask him how he feels about sister wives. Just sayin’.” She found her matching shoes and danced around the room, holding them.

  “The day you do that is the day I gut you, and don’t think I won’t. Kayla doesn’t do sharing.” She kept her voice light as she stared at the sparkly shoes, her mind spinning with renewed anxiety. A sudden, gut deep need to see J.D., to hear his voice in her ears, feel his arms around her made her gasp. She dropped into the nearest chair, the shoes on her lap.

  “I know, I know.” Marlo gave Kayla a boozy kiss on the cheek. “I love you. And I’m so happy for you. Let’s get dressed.” She hiccupped. “Whoops.”

  “We should drink some water, too,” Kayla said, feeling her own tipsiness sliding into the near side of drunk. No way to arrive, not in this gown, not on this night. It was J.D.’s most important one, and she knew it. She had to pull herself together.

  They drank water, and helped each other into their dresses and shoes, snapped a million pictures and posted them with hashtags #LuckyKayla and #WeLoveJD plus the requisite #DSN and #LadyBalls.

  When her phone buzzed, telling her that their ride was ready, she stuck a pair of diamond drop earrings in her ears and picked up her small, silk bag. “What a difference a few months make, eh, my friend?” She grabbed Marlo and held onto her a few seconds.

  “Yep. Now you’re getting your fairytale life I’m ready for mine. Let’s go find me a man like J.D., whaddaya say?”

  “On it,” Kayla said, her mind already flipping through the options in J.D.’s rolodex of rich, powerful friends, even as she accepted that she would never, could never, live this life. She’d never fit in. Never be sleek or sophisticated in a way a man like J.D. required. He needed someone else, someone way more secure in their own skin than she’d ever be.

  She blinked back tears and drank more water, half realizing it was all the stupid champagne talking. She’d get through tonight, then they’d have a talk about the harsh reality of Makayla and her failings.

  They strolled out into the lobby, drawing almost every set of eyes on their way to the revolving door. Ted stood at a long, black limo, his handsome face one big smile at the sight of them. “You’re here!” Kayla cried, giving him a huge hug. “Hey, Marlo, this is Ted. He’s the guy who—”

  But Marlo’s jaw had dropped open at the sight of the tall, ruggedly handsome black man holding open the car door. Kayla giggled when she realized that Ted seemed to be similarly mesmerized. She elbowed her friend’s side. “Come on. We can’t be late.”

  Ted touched his driver’s cap and gave a little bow as they climbed into the back seat. “Earth to Marlo,” Kayla said, taking out her lipstick to apply a fresh sheen.

  “Huh? Oh. Um. Yeah. So he was the guy who got shot? When Don…” She swallowed hard.

  Kayla put her lipstick away and turned to her friend. “Yes. He was. He’s an ex-pro linebacker and an ex-con. He got sent up for gambling and assault and battery—something about his sister’s boyfriend, I can’t remember. I’m not sure he’s the sort of fairytale—”

  “Mind your business,” Marlo snapped. She lowered the window between them and Ted. “Hey, Ted, how’re you doing tonight?”

  He grinned into the rearview mirror. “I’m doing just fine, thanks. You ladies look amazing.”

  “Thanks,” Marlo said, with a flip of her chestnut hair. “You’re not too bad yourself. I’m pretty sure my friend here will be occupied with her future husband after this shindig. Maybe we could get a drink or something.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “Or something.”

  Marlo closed the window and squealed. “Girl I just had an orgasm. That voice, my God he’s like Idris Elba with Morgan Freeman’s voice.”

  Kayla sighed and patted her friend’s knee. “Be careful.”

  “You let me alone. I’ve got this.”

  They stepped out onto the red carpet and straight into an array of flashing lights, reporters calling her name, and a row of little girls in soccer uniforms complete with cleats, all lined up to escort her in.

  “Your man,” Marlo whispered. “He did all this.”
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  “Yes, he did,” Kayla said, dazzled by it and yet sad at the same time, knowing that she’d be leaving it, if only to protect J.D. from her own uselessness. She smiled down at her escort as she took the girl’s hand and let herself be led into the cavernous lobby of the Fox Theater. Unable to stop herself, she stared at the ornate, painted ceiling and almost fell off her thousand-dollar high heels when a waiter appeared and offered her a long flute of champagne. She took it, clinked with Marlo, and looked around. She needed to see him, kiss him, remind herself that he was, indeed, hers and not some dream. Even if she were going to shatter the whole thing tomorrow just so she could have some peace in her soul, she was determined to make this night a good one for him.

  Maybe you’ve been listening to James too much. Maybe those bitches in the bathroom were just being jealous. Maybe you need to get a fucking grip and accept that this is the very very good thing you deserve.

  She shook her head. The champagne went down fast, so she grabbed another glass as she laughed and schmoozed her way through the crowd. After an hour, she needed to pee. She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror a few minutes after reapplying lipstick and dotting her face with powder, honestly expecting to hear more women discussing her, saying how stupid she was to trust a man like J.D. To reveal that he was in fact boning several of them at once.

  Right before she headed back out into the crowd, determined to find her man and hang onto him a few minutes to establish her bona fides at least for a few more hours, she felt her phone buzz in her purse. When she saw who the text was from, she had to take a seat on one of the old-fashioned chaise lounges outside the powder room. She stared down at the name “Rick M” so long her eyes burned.

  “There you are.” LeeAnn’s soft drawl hit her ears, making her glance up and wonder how long she’d been sitting here. “What’s wrong?”

  “Um, nothing. I don’t think. But I’m afraid to read this. Here.” She shoved the phone into the other woman’s hand. “You read it. Tell me what it says.”

  LeeAnn glanced down at the screen. Kayla waited. LeeAnn’s face remained inscrutable. When she looked back at Kayla, she wasn’t smiling. “I guess they want you.”

  “What?” Kayla leaped to her feet and almost fell over thanks to too much booze and teetering heels. “Really? Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. And I’m not happy about it. You’re a damn good assistant.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. But you know… Oh my god oh my god…” She waved her hands in front of her face trying to dry the sheen of sweat. Not to mention quell the loud clamor of fresh doubt filling her head.

  “Oh, I know, honey. If anyone knows, I do.” She got up and gave Kayla a hug. “You deserve it, Kayla. You earned it. Don’t ever forget that.” She handed over the phone. “Now, let’s get out of here. They’re about to seat us for dinner.”

  “Yes, okay. Just give me a few minutes. I’ll be right behind you.” She sat, and read the text.

  Rick M: Kayla, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you on this. And I’m really glad to know you’re okay. I’d like to offer you a place on the team for next year. A full-time place which means you’ll begin training with us next month. We’ll be paying you in the top tier salary range, but I’ll work those details out with Dianna. Congrats. And welcome to the team! Rick

  She squealed, fist pumped a few times, then saw she had another text from Dianna, her agent.

  Dianna: Congrats, Kayla! I knew you could do it. I’ll get on Rick’s calendar for Monday and we’ll work out the terms. Today, Detroit. Tomorrow … back to the national team! I just know it!

  She danced around the room a few more seconds, then pulled herself together. Could she truly have it all, finally, after hiding her head in the sand for so many years feeling sorry for herself? Had she earned this?

  She stared at herself in the mirror a few more seconds, then tossed her newly extended, naturally curly hair over her shoulder and headed into the lobby, into a bank of applause and cheers. She smiled and waved, all the while wondering where in the hell J.D. was. She needed to share this news. Or at least needed to lean on him for a few seconds while she convinced herself that he hadn’t machinated it all for her.

  She followed the crowd as it was directed through the bank of open doors into the auditorium, craning her neck and trying not to look worried about J.D.’s continued absence. The tables were set up on the stage, with bars at either end and a raised section where all the other execs and their plus-ones would sit, along with their emcee for the night—a famous African-American comedian she’d been stoked to meet.

  Realizing that she’d never make it unless she hit the ladies’ room again, she asked one of the tuxedoed staff where the closest was, and he pointed to the wings of the stage, indicating that there were restrooms on either side. She made her way through the milling groups of TV people and located the women’s room. When she emerged, the back hall was deserted. She half-ran toward the noisy auditorium, figuring J.D. must already be in his seat.

  That’s when she heard his voice. The sound of it—deep, resonant, familiar—filled her head, shoving out the panic and fear she’d been living with the last two days like so much magic. She started toward him, then froze at his words.

  “Yeah, Rick, I saw. Thanks so much.”

  There was silence, followed by, “I know. But it was worth every penny. You know I’ll do anything for her.” He chuckled. “You can officially put that tag on me now, my friend. You can indeed.” More silence on his end, during which Kayla tried to convince herself that he wasn’t talking to who she thought he was. “No, no, I managed to keep it from her. It wasn’t easy. She’s pretty good at reading me. But this was important so I kept it under wraps. Way under. You don’t know from mad until you see Makayla mad.”

  She pressed herself back against a wall, hand to her mouth.

  He had bought her way onto the team.

  That was almost as bad as cheating on her. Because in a way, he had cheated, lied to her, done something he knew damn well she didn’t want. She had to earn her place. He couldn’t just AmEx Black her a whole new god damned life.

  “All right. Yeah. We’ll take care of it after tonight’s shindig. Yeah. Great. Thanks again, Rick. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.” He ended the call and whistled his way back out onto the stage.

  Kayla waited a few minutes, until she heard the famous comic’s opening lines, something about how J.D. had managed to hook up with the one woman in his immediate universe who’d not shown up yet.

  She squared her shoulders, fixed a smile on her face, and walked onto the stage, waving and laughing along with everyone else. But her heart was a cold, black stone in her chest. She sat, accepted his peck to her cheek to the delight of the crowd. She stared down at the food she couldn’t eat and half-listened to the famous comedian. She drank more champagne, plus a couple of glasses of wine, winking at J.D. when she laughed a tad too loud at something someone said up at their table.

  By the time the festivities of self-congratulations had concluded she was well and truly drunk. Not quite blind. But well on her way there. She blinked and frowned when she heard her name. “Oh, is it over?”

  “No, it’s not,” J.D. said, his voice betraying him. He was angry with her. She’d ruined his big night. Well tough shit, mister.

  She rose.

  He tugged her back down. “Sit a second, will you?” She pulled away from him and glanced around, catching LeeAnn’s then Matilde’s worried expressions.

  “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Makayla, but I … you … oh shit.” He leaned away from her, leaving her feeling his absence like a hole had emptied up in her universe. Good thing too. She’d be dumping his sorry ass after what he pulled.

  The crowd was murmuring in a way that confused her. When she glanced up, she saw a phalanx of tuxedo-clad servers walking forward, one of them carrying what looked like … she squinted hard, then glared over at him.

 
But he was staring out into the middle distance, his jaw clenched.

  She stretched out her shaking fingers to touch it, to get him to relax, but he jerked his head out of reach. The parade of servers stopped in front of her. The head guy put a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Pfish Food—their calorie bomb of choice—in front of her. The audience silenced. A spotlight hit her in the face, blinding her. Confused, she reached for the pint of ice cream, noting that it was warm, and suspiciously light.

  “Stop,” J.D. said. “LeeAnn, turn it off. Thanks for coming everyone. Get home safe.” He held out his hand to her. She’d already pried off the lid and found herself staring down at the most beautiful emerald and diamond ring, with matching necklace and earrings that she had ever seen in her life. She put a hand over her lips. “I’ll take that.” He took it from her. “Let’s go.” He held out his hand. She put hers into it, apologies on her lips but her throat too dry to cooperate.

  J.D. held her elbow as they made their way down the stairs and out into the lobby. A bank of ride share cars, taxis, and limos waited, ready to receive the revelers. He waved and Ted pulled the SUV around, double parking until they were settled into the back.

  Kayla slid all the way across the leather seat and stared out of the window, wishing she were sober, wishing she’d not heard what she’d heard, seen what she’d seen, hoping none of it was true. J.D. didn’t say anything, but she could sense his anger filling the space between them.

  When they pulled up to the Ritz, Ted opened the door and she jumped out as if her ass were on fire. She stomped through the lobby and to the elevator.

  J.D. joined her, his face neutral, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets. She got into an empty lift but held out her hand, stopping him before he could join her. The doors shut between them and she leaned against the wall, gasping and sobbing and cursing her way up to the penthouse level.

  What was happening to her? Was she ready to relinquish everything to him? To let him micro manage everything about her life from now on? To let him use his power, influence, and money to smooth her path for her?