by Tiana Laveen
He was very particular about who he aligned himself with. Trust came at a premium. He’d been backstabbed more than once in different ways, but each time he learned quickly from his errors. He kept this close to his soul, but he wasn’t above acts of revenge… In fact, there’d been times in his life when his heart was so broken, he saw no other recourse. Someone had to make the wrongs right, and he was just the motherfucker to do it. Now, everyone was regarded with suspicion until they proved their worth. Ex-wives, ex-girlfriends, business associates, friends who lied and schemed… he’d had a fucking ’nough. Regardless of his cynicism though, he was known as a generous and fair boss, but he didn’t get the ‘Slave Driver’ nickname for nothing.
At times he hated when some of his staff would teasingly call him such, but he recognized it as true, and knowing the real deal was half the battle. Truth be told, his behavior wasn’t completely selfish; when he pushed that way, it meant that he cared, and he wanted the best out of the people around him, for them to bring their A game. He didn’t expect perfection, but he did ask for loyalty, reliability, no attempts to be played for a fool, and compassion for one another, along with understanding, mutual respect, and appreciation. When he saw talent and effort in the people he worked with, he connected with them in a way he was certain they’d never understand, because that was Lazarist’s greatest frailty. He loved hard, but he covered it well.
Besides, he preferred to show with his actions what he had in his heart, and if he said so himself, what a very big heart he possessed indeed. He was loyal to a fault and would take whoever helped him rise up to the bright blue sky right along with him.
Life to Lazarist wasn’t a road to be travelled lightly. It was a daily adventure, a winding trail with falls and dips, sudden stops along a cliff and dives into the ocean below. He wanted to hear the music at full volume, feel his skin gliding against a beauty of the female persuasion, taste the sweet valley between her legs, savor it… smell the fresh money being deposited into his bank account, then tear his competition apart with his bare teeth. All of these thoughts consumed him—responsibilities, ambition, a need for rest, projects in motion.
I need to get home and get back out… so much work to do. Shit.
After letting the water cool him down, he sat down on a bench and waited for his heartrate to return to normal from the intense karate session. Digging into his gym bag, he pulled out his cellphone and checked for important emails, voicemails, social media posts about his club, and any other pertinent information he might have missed.
He had four missed calls, one of which came from a number he didn’t recognize.
With a yawn, he crossed his legs and played back the voicemails. The third one struck his curiosity the most…
“Um, hi, Mr. Zander. This is Sky… Sky Jordan. We met at your club, Fallen Angel, this past Saturday. I know that you said to call Saturday night, but my friend Toi had gotten sick and my mind was a blur. I had an early morning rehearsal yesterday, too, so yeah,” she chuckled, “I work on Sundays, and I was just exhausted… It completely slipped my mind. Toi is fine now, and so am I. Thank you for, uh… the ride. That was really considerate of you. And thanks also for paying for our drinks. Well, I guess that’s it. It was nice meeting you. Take care.”
He took another gulp of his water and ended the playback. Minutes later, he was dressed in a loose black jogging suit and sneakers and planted in his car. He turned on his car stereo and out poured ‘Fell in Love with a Girl’ by The White Stripes. His first stop was to get his ass home. He could already feel the water from a nice, long shower.
I need to head over to the club, ASAP.
He had a brief meeting scheduled with the head chef of his restaurant and a wedding coordinator to ensure that a wedding rehearsal dinner party paid the rest of their due amount and that everything happened as planned.
Moving like lightning, he finally made it home. As soon as he hit the door, the word ‘rehearsal’ rang in his head. His brain got to working overtime again. It seemed to be the theme of the day. He tossed down his car keys on a small white marble table he had in the foyer.
She said she had a rehearsal on a Sunday morning. Today is Monday. That means she probably has a job in the arts or it’s church related, since she said she was there for work. I know I’ve seen her somewhere before. Sky Jordan… Sky Jordan… hmmm…
He marched up to his bedroom, stripped down, and rushed into a hot shower. As he shampooed his hair and conditioned it, he continued to wrack his brain, but nothing came to mind. Sooner than he wished, he was stepping out of the shower, snatching a thick, white towel from the rack, and drying off. He wished he could’ve stayed in there all day, but there was so much to take care of and do. He began to resent himself…
“Alexa, play ‘Panic Station’ by Muse.” He bopped his head to the music as he raked his comb through his wet hair, detangling his dark, rich mane just right. He brushed it back away from his face, and his widow’s peak was now as prominent as ever. Looking at himself from various angles, he ran his hand across his low cut beard and deliberated on touching it up.
It can wait another day…
Turning off the bathroom light, he headed to his massive walk in closet and selected a pair of khaki pants, a button down white shirt, and Christian Louboutin shoes. From the chest of drawers in his bedroom, he pulled out a fresh pair of socks and some dark gray boxer briefs. As he dressed, he wished for a bit of quiet…
“Alexa… turn off music.” The song faded until it went silent. Snatching his cellphone from the middle of the bed where’d he’d tossed it, he scanned his phone log and found the number he desired in the Missed Call log. A woman answered on the fourth ring.
“Hello?” she stated breathlessly.
Is she fucking? If so, why wasn’t I invited?
“Hey, is this Sky Jordan?”
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line.
“Yes…”
He smiled at her hesitation…
Cautious little minx…
“This is Lazarist. I doubt at this point saying my last name will be needed… In any case, thank you for eventually getting back to me, though due to your lack of follow up, I had already ensured you’d arrived safely once I didn’t hear back.” He could actually hear the woman swallow. “I spoke to the young man I had drive you home. He provided the information you neglected to pass on.”
“Oh… ohhhhkay, well again, sorry about that.”
“No problem. It’s over now. That’s not the reason for this call, though. Are you busy? You sound busy?” He made his way to his bedroom window and looked out. People watching was a pleasure he didn’t often have the luxury of indulging in much anymore, but he found it rather relaxing when he could sneak it in every now and again.
“Well, yes. I’m in rehearsal and—”
“Rehearsal for what?”
“I’m a dancer and choreographer.”
“Word of professional advice, Sky, when you are asked what you do for a living, state that you are a dance choreographer and leave it at that. If you answer dancer first, or even last, you are placing less significance on your actual job title… one that I’m certain you’ve worked hard to earn. Additionally, in this day ’nd age, saying you’re a dancer can conjure up thoughts of poles and silicon filled titties jiggling all over the fuckin’ place for cash. Nothin’ wrong with being a stripper…” He shrugged. “But that’s not what you are, so leave it out of your response from now on. Got it?”
“Uh, okay… you’re something else.”
“What else am I?” His brows dipped. “Never mind. I’m just fuckin’ with ya… I know it was just a figure of speech.”
The woman laughed nervously on the other end.
“Well, thank you for calling. I really have to—”
“No, you don’t have to go right now. You’re just choosing to. I am making you uncomfortable because of an underlying situation.”
“And what situation would t
hat be?”
“You’ve been avoiding me because you’re loyal to your friend, Sharice… Apparently, she either has a crush on me or believes I’m a bank that she can withdraw from, perhaps both. The crush is fine, but I don’t pay for pussy… at least not in the sense she’s looking for. I know a lion out on the prowl when I see one… because I am one. Same shit, different day.”
“Scarlet. Her name is Scarlet.”
“Thank you for verifying what I wasn’t one hundred percent certain about but now you’ve filled in the blanks and confirmed it. I appreciate that.” He chuckled, and it sounded as if she had, too, before perhaps she caught herself. “I knew her name, by the way… Anyway,” He glanced down at his watch. “She’s quite attractive but not really my type… you are. So what are you going to do about that?”
“Do about what?!”
“I tell you what. How about we have dinner this evening?”
At this, the woman burst out laughing.
“Mr. Zander, I have never encountered anyone like you in my life, and though it is entertaining, like watching a skit gone wrong, I’m going to stop beating around the bush.” I was hoping to slide deep into yours… “I really don’t think it’s a good idea for us to meet up or go out, okay? I’m flattered… I think. But anyway, despite the fact that you’re not really feelin’ my friend, it wouldn’t be a good move on my part. I think that would be really awkward.”
“As awkward as you telling me about a fictitious boyfriend, finding me attractive, and being, at the very least, a tad bit curious as to how a date with me would go?”
He was met with another brief moment of silence, then another eruption of laughter.
“Did you just become like this or is this your behavior twenty-four-seven from birth? There’s such a thing as too much confidence, Mr. Zander.”
“No such thing. Lack of confidence and belief in oneself makes a man weak. Back to the topic though, your friend and I were never dating. I don’t even know the woman. There is no betrayal… you have nothing to concern yourself about. Besides, can you blame her? Who wouldn’t want to spend some time with me? I’m attractive, I’m fun, I’m rich, and so much more.”
“I can’t with you.”
She cackled, but he knew he was warming her up… bending her to his desires.
“I’m arrogant, I’ll be the first to admit it—but I can back it up.” He drummed his hand on the windowpane and smiled. “Look, at the end of the day, I’m just a poor kid from Brooklyn who grew up to become a successful businessman. I know what I like and don’t like, and I’d like to get to know you better, Sky. Period. I will have someone pick you up tonight at 6:45 P.M. No, better yet, I will come get you myself. Clear your schedule.”
“I’m busy.”
“Make yourself un-busy. If I can blow off a few important executives, you can ditch your responsibilities for an evening. I promise it’ll be worth your time.” He disconnected the call and made his way down the steps. Grabbing his keys, he tossed them in the air before exiting out the front door…
“5,6,7, 8! COME on, Tyson! Lift those legs!”
Sky looked at her phone in disbelief. The man had hung up, and all she could do was stand there with her mouth hanging open.
“See… these motherfuckers from Brooklyn… so sick of them! And his White ass is obviously no better! He acts like he has swag falling out the ass.”
…In fact, he did.
Fucker.
She mouthed a string of cuss words under her breath as she left the dance studio’s coat closet where she’d been hiding to take the call, and returned to the floor. Adrianne, her colleague, was working with their new pupils, five of them. This was a class of seasoned adult actors who had a few dance numbers to learn for a major Broadway show that was set to begin in a few months, and she had been selected out of hundreds to instruct them. Snatching a towel from a nearby dance bar, she dabbed her forehead and stood in the middle of the room.
“Turn on ‘Lose Control’ by Missy Elliott, please.” She dropped her head and waited for the beat to drop. “All right, listen up! This is not the song you all are using for the scene where the robots come out, but it has the exact same rhythm. You need to be able to perform this dance to any song with a similar rhythm. Now watch me…”
The music became louder as she moved about the floor, popping and locking, her limbs flowing to the beat. The students began to whistle and clap as she went through the routine, her hair swinging wildly to and fro. She was dancing with all of her might, burning off steam, bringing in the day. She smiled. Here, in the zone, she felt safe. Each fluid motion was like an extension of her very soul.
Every part of her temple was involved in the edification of dance. She praised it; it was her personal Goddess. Adrianne wolf whistled a couple of times, but soon enough, Sky could neither hear nor see anyone. She was just sliding, gliding and moving, swaying to the beat within her heart, and fast becoming a happy, sweaty mess. Pulling at the high waist band of her leggings, she snapped it against her flat stomach and ran her hand along her ribcage. Her black crop top was stuck to her skin and her body was practically on fire, but she didn’t mind…
Dance was life. Life was dance.
The students clapped and applauded her.
“We’re not going to be able to do that,” one of them said, his tone worried. “How long have you been dancing, Sky?”
“Since the age of four. I’ve been dancing professionally since age eight. I’ve always loved it… knew it was what I wanted to do. Look, everybody.” She clasped her hands together and began to pace in front of them. “I don’t expect you to be an expert or even great, but you can be good—impressive, actually. Usually, I train other dancers. You all are not, but for me, that just adds to the fun. You’re a challenge, and I have no problems stepping up to it. You’re actors. You have a good command of the stage, so that is a plus. Just follow my lead… I got you, I promise…”
CHAPTER FOUR
Quick Change of Plans…
Later that evening…
UMI SUSHI LEFTOVERS were always delicious…
Sky lounged about on her favorite, broken in raspberry red couch in her most comfy bra and panties, enjoying her downtime in her apartment in Queens. Soy sauce packets lay strewn on the coffee table, along with a warm bottle of diet Coke and the television tuned to reruns of ‘True Blood.’ It had been a long day. The ride on the subway was particularly hot, and worst of all, it was far from peaceful.
She’d ended up next to the idiot that wanted to sing vintage 70’s tunes at the top of his lungs all while wearing no shirt, smelling like sautéed onions and donning booty shorts with rainbow striped roller skates on his feet. Her thoughts drifted back to the dance studio. She’d earned every dollar and then some. What a crowd.
Damn these actors… it’s all good though…
Newbies were energy suckers. Some were rather uncoordinated, others moved well but didn’t seem to have the oomph to follow through and recall their steps. It was amazing how some award-winning actors could memorize an entire movie script but forget a simple two step. She yawned and stretched, her limbs slightly sore and her world filled with clouds as the desire to nap grew fangs and sank in deep. Her eyelids fluttered and before she knew it, she was seduced by the lazy lover of sleep. However, someone had other plans…
BANG! BANG! BANG!
She suddenly shot up like a bullet blasted out of a gun as she heard a pounding on her door. Rubbing her eye, she flung the quilt off her body and tried to get her bearings. She deliberated on asking who it was, but just in case she wanted to pretend to not be at home, as she often did with uninvited guests, she thought better of it. Tiptoeing towards the door, she looked through the peephole and her heart thumped like a sledgehammer. There, on the other side of the door, stood a tall, debonair man wearing a V-neck money green sweater and loose jeans, holding a bouquet of purple ombre flowers in a clear plastic wrapper, crunched in his grip.
Lazarist…
With a gasp, she quickly turned away, her back pressed against the wood. After a couple of heart pounding seconds, his deep voice broke the silence.
“So… you’re just going to leave me standing out here, huh? That’s the plan?”
She quickly spun around and looked back out the peephole. His smile was replaced with a smirk.
“What are you doing here?”
Now that was a dumb question! The man said he was picking me up… but I didn’t think he was serious!
As if reading her mind, he repeated her thoughts. “What do you mean what am I doin’ here? I said we were going out and that I’d pick you up at 6:45 P.M.”
“I, uh, had to work late, and I’m tired.”
“So am I… I tell you what, Sky. I’m going to go back out to my car and sit in it. I am going to give you fifteen minutes to join me. If you don’t, you’ll never hear from me or see me again. That’ll be your loss.” He slowly bent down, placed the flowers at her door, and walked away, taking easy steps towards the elevator until he was out of eyeshot.
“Oh my God!” She raced to her small living room where she’d been perched. Snatching up her phone, she dialed Toi… then hung up. “Toi wouldn’t know what to do! I’ll call Candace.” She called her friend and got her voicemail. “Damn it!”
Slamming down the phone, she paced for a moment or two, chewing on her nails. A part of her wanted to find out what this persistent bastard was all about. There was something exciting about a man like Lazarist, a fellow who seemed to have the world in his hands. And that man was coming after her—full steam ahead. She’d never been in such a predicament. Sure, she’d been pursued by attractive men, but this was different. She couldn’t figure this fucker out to save her life. Who would know what to do?