At one o’clock on the dot, a fleet of Mercedes Limos turned off of Madison. Saint knew they were there by the way the reporters were scrambling. Four blonde, bombshells, quadruplets, stepped out of the first limo, wearing dresses designed by Laurent Petrescu. The women stood on each side of the door as Petrescu stepped out holding the hand of a bombshell that looked like the first four. The women were in fact quintuplets. Cameras were clicking, reporters were talking into their mini tape recorders. Out of the next three limos came mixed couples of different nationalities, and the last ones to exit the limos were the designers of the fashions that the models were showcasing. The last, and the longest, limo dramatically rolled up. The chauffeur stepped out and walked around to the backdoor and didn’t open it until he heard a soft tap on the window.
As he swung the door open a set of looong legs appeared.
The face of the woman to whom they belong to finally came into view. The Glamazon was six-two, blue eyes, and had flamingred hair. Everyone’s attention went back to the door where another set of looong legs stepped out onto the sidewalk. An exact replica of the Glamazon exited the limo and stood to her full six-two height. Both women were wearing identical, body-hugging dresses. Long slits up the sides let everyone know that the Glamazon twins were wearing French-cut panties. Both women stood on the sidewalk awaiting the appearance of their benefactor.
Marion Claude stepped out of the limo greeting the cameras with the Miss America wave. Reporters shot a couple questions at him, to which he only smiled, and pretended to be looking for someone.
“I do not know how you found out that I would be here,” he said, with a surprised look. “I am here only to visit a very dear friend of mine, Miss Olivia Martin. Now, if you will excuse me.” Marion Claude looped his arms around the waists of the flaming red head, super model twins, and headed for Butta Cutz. Olivia greeted him at the door. He embraced her and kissed her on both cheeks like they’d known each other for years. Before he pulled away from her, he whispered in her ear.
“I’m impressed. I was expecting only a couple reporters.”
Olivia winked at him as she ushered him inside.
Olivia introduced all of her employees to Marion Claude, and Marion Claude introduced them to the other fashion designers. Marion Claude complimented Olivia on the decorations, and even commented loud enough for the reporters to hear.
“Anyone who does not come to Butta Cutz is not worth the air he breathes. This is the Mecca of men salons in the West.” He looked to the front door and waved at the men with boxes in their hands to come in. Men, who looked to be second-string models, brought in boxes of all sizes. Now, it was Olivia’s turn to act surprised. Marion Claude insisted she open them right there in the reception area. When she opened the first one, she didn’t have to act surprised anymore. The first box contained a dress with a design so intricate that she knew it was one of a kind. The next was a velvet box from Petrescu. Olivia opened it and she was at a loss for words. Baby, Grace and Esther were stunned. Olivia pulled out the tennis bracelet and marveled at the different color stones glistening in the sunlight. Olivia knew how much something like this cost. What she didn’t know was how could Petrescu afford to just give it to her as a gift? Every box that she opened, the cameras were there clicking away, and Marion Claude was right by her side.
After Marion Claude’s “gift extravaganza,” he removed his jacket and allowed Olivia to lead him to her chair. She was telling Grace and the rest of her team to tend to the others when Marion Claude stopped her.
“Don’t worry about them. They are only here as decorations.” Olivia looked around, and then she noticed that that’s exactly what they looked like. Everyone had picked a spot in the salon to stand or sit and they preformed for the cameras and the crowd.
Marion allowed one reporter to interview him as Olivia cut his hair. He spoke of his humble beginnings as a salesman in a shabby fabric store in Paris. He then went to Baby’s station where she prepped him for a manicure and pedicure. Baby worked on his hands as Lynise worked on his feet. Olivia stood by and watched, to see if Lynise knew what she was doing. Olivia nodded her head in approval.
Saint sat at the reception desk with Miki naming the hottest clubs in Japan. While he went back and forth with her, he kept his eyes roving on everything, and everyone. All the while, Jon-Jon kept his eyes on him. Saint knew he was clocking him, but he didn’t let on.
Saint caught movement at the front door. A burly cop walked in. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t carrying.
Jon-Jon saw the police officer the same time Saint did. A big smile grew on his face. He gorilla-walked to the cop, and gave him a pound and a hug. He whispered something to the cop, while pointing over his shoulder in Saint’s direction. The cop locked eyes with Saint and nodded slowly. The beast in the cop uniform softened when Olivia ran over and hugged him. That must be brother number two, Saint thought. Olivia looked his way and winked. He adjusted his glasses and gave her a little wave. One of the flaming red heads walked over to Olivia and whispered something to her. Olivia followed her to Baby’s workstation. Marion Claude said something to Olivia which made her look in Saint’s direction. She nodded and then walked toward him.
Saint bristled.
“Marion Claude said he would like to talk to you in private. I told him that you two can use my office.”
“Did he say what he wanted to talk about?”
“No. You can wait in my office. Baby’s just about finished with him. I’ll send him in.”
“Okay.”
Ten minutes later, Marion Claude walked in. “Mr. Andrews,” he said, extending his hand. Saint shook it. “I am honored to be breathing the same air as you.” Marion sat on the sofa and looked him up and down. “When I got a call from Josephine, telling me that the man sitting at my table, selling me a dress was her infamous Saint, I nearly shitted my pants.”
Saint didn’t show any emotion to the apparent sign of respect.
“But she assured me that you weren’t there on business.”
“What else did she tell you?”
“She told me to behave myself.”
“Are you?”
“I have to, now that I know the eyes of the Saint are on me.”
What? Saint screamed in his head. Josephine what the fuck did you tell this man?
“You no doubt know that I am a very wealthy man. Anything in the world that I want, I can have. ANYTHING,” Marion Claude stressed.
“I don’t see how that’s any of my business, but I’m sure you’re about to connect the dots for me.”
“Name your price. From one to infinity, and I swear on my mother’s grave, may God rest her soul, I won’t argue with you. It will be in your account with just one phone call from me.”
“I don’t need money.”
“What about power?”
“I almost made you shit your pants. I think I have enough power.”
Marion smiled. “You’re that loyal to Josephine?”
“No, I just don’t like you.”
Marion busted out laughing. “I can have you and everyone in this salon killed with a snap of a finger.”
“And I can kill you with the pull of a finger,” Saint said, aiming an imaginary gun at him and pulling the trigger.
“And how will you make it out of here alive?”
“I’ll walk out the front door.”
“Impossible!”
“Doing the impossible is what makes me the best at what I do.”
Marion regarded him curiously, and then busted out laughing again. “I am just messing with you.”
“I think it’s time for you and your people to go. You’ve kept your end of the deal by stopping by.”
“Yes, I have. And I do have a couple more stops to make before I prepare to fly back to France.”
“Have a safe flight home,” Saint said, extending his hand. Marion grabbed it and stood up. “If you ever change your mind—”
“Good bye, Mr. Claude.
”
After Marion Claude left, Olivia came in with the boxes of gifts and placed them on her desk. “Can you believe all of this?”
“I told you what to expect.”
“Yes, but there are pieces of jewelry here that costs over a thousand dollars.”
“It didn’t cost them a penny. They get that stuff for free. Jewelers give them pieces for their models to wear. For every piece a jeweler gives them, they’re guaranteed at least twenty sales.”
“After today, my salon is going to be the hottest spot in the country. Thank you, Clayton.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“No, I do.” She walked up to him and ran both of her hands up his chest and around his shoulders. She got on her tiptoes and kissed him. Saint stood ridged, but the softness of her lips… He leaned into her and held her tight as he kissed her back.
“Yo, sis,” Jon-Jon said, as he opened the door and started to walk in.
“Jon-Jon! What I tell you about barging into my office?”
Saint pulled away from her.
“Damn, sis, this is your office not your bedroom.”
“I think I better go,” Saint said, heading out.
Jon-Jon gave him a hard stare. “I got my eye on you, bean counter.” He bumped him as he walked by.
Saint walked out onto the sidewalk in time to see Marion Claude climbing into his limo. Marion waved at him. Saint restrained himself from sticking his middle finger up.
“What’s up, chief?” Saint looked around and saw brother number two. “My name’s Mike, but people around here call me Big Mike.” He extended his ham-sized hand.
“Clayton Andrews,” Saint said as he watched his hand disappear into the palm of giant’s hand.
Big Mike squeezed his hand a little harder than normal, while making one of his pecs jump.
Saint bit his tongue to keep from laughing in his face. “I’d hate to be on the wrong side of one of them clubs,” he said with a smile.
“It wouldn’t be a pretty sight. Especially for somebody with a pretty face like yourself.”
“I’m a law abiding citizen so I won’t have to worry about that.”
“You try to play my sister, and a busted face will be the least of your injuries.”
Saint seized the opening and took it. “First, your brother in there threatens me, now you threaten me. I don’t take too kind to threats.”
Mike folded his arms on his chest. “I don’t care what you don’t take too kind to.”
“You know what? I don’t have to take this. Tell your sister it was nice knowing her.”
“It will be my pleasure, pretty boy.”
Saint stormed off. That was the easy part. The hard part would be having the willpower not to answer his cell when Olivia called.
She called him three times on his cell before he made it to his apartment. She left a message on his voice mail on the last attempt. When he got home, he took off his suit and ceremoniously placed it in its garment bag and then hung it up in his closet. His home phone rang.
“You got a lot of nerve,” he said before the person on the other end could get a word out.
“Saint,” Josephine purred.
“There was no reason for you to call Marion Claude, and tell him about me.”
“I did you a favor.”
“What?”
“Petrescu wanted some payback. It seems that he can’t let Glenn walk around unpunished for what he did to him five years ago. He’d convinced Claude to arrange an ‘attempt robbery’ on your beloved friend where both his hands were to be broken.”
Saint didn’t say a word.
“You know I’m telling you the truth, my love. I’ve never lied to you, and I never will. When Marion found out how you ‘slipped’ past his security, not only did he arrange to have the head of his security fired, but he had both his hands broken.”
“If what you’re saying is true, you can’t hold that over my head. I owe you nothing.”
“All I want from you is what we agreed upon. Saint is dead. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
Chapter 6
“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you and fuck you,” Olivia said, pointing to each of her brothers.
“Olivia don’t play yourself,” Jon-Jon said.
“Play myself? No, Jon-Jon, because of all of you, all I can do is play with myself.”
“Oh, God, sis,” David, the oldest of the brothers, said, twisting his face in disgust. “We don’t need to hear that.”
“Oh no, you’re going to hear it. That’s why I called this meeting.” She pointed to her second oldest brother. “Shawn, you’ve been happily married for what, seven years?”
“Yeah.”
“And you, David. You’re married and have two kids with Toya. Mike, you’re not married to Mia, but you two have been together for years. Even Jon-Jon’s nasty ass has a girlfriend. All of you have someone. I’ve never, ever budded into your relationships.”
“We’re different, Olivia—” Mike started to say.
“Different my ass.”
“We don’t have shit,” Jon-Jon said, “So, the women we’re with can’t get shit. If a nigga gets with you and decides he wants a divorce, he’s taking half our shit.”
“Our shit? I just heard you say you didn’t have shit,” Olivia said.
“I’m talking about the business.”
“You’re talking about my business.”
“It’s like that?” David asked.
“Yeah, it’s like that. Everyone here has their life. Butta Cutz is mine. I appreciate the way y’all regulate, making sure dudes don’t come in here and try to play themselves, but y’all can’t regulate my personal life. Not anymore. Clayton is a good man.”
“I don’t like him,” Mike snorted.
“Me neither,” Jon-Jon chimed in.
“Don’t you get it? I don’t give a fuck who you like and don’t like. It stops today. My personal life is off limits. I see who I want to see. Are we clear on that?” None of them responded. “I said are we clear?” She slammed her fists on her desk and shot out of her chair.
“Yo, what the fuck?” Jon-Jon said startled.
“All right, sis,” David said. “We got that. Your personal life is off limits. Just calm down before you pop a blood vessel.”
“Word,” Shawn said. “You said the word fuck like a hundred times.”
Olivia flopped back down into her chair. “Get the hell out of my office.”
The brothers looked at each other for a minute. One by one, they got up and left.
Olivia leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She tilted her head to the side and massaged her neck. Her massage didn’t come close to Saint’s. She cut her eyes at her phone. With a sigh, she leaned forward and picked it up. She dialed his cell phone, praying he would answer. On the tenth ring, she hung up and cursed Mike. Her blood pressure almost shot out of the roof yesterday when he came strutting back into Butta Cutz and told her that “Mr. Clayton Andrews won’t be showing his pretty face around here anymore.” She wanted to be mad at Clayton, but she couldn’t. What he was doing was the typical response a lot of men did when they met her brothers. She picked up her phone and dialed one more number.
“Hello.”
“Glenn, its Olivia.”
“Hi, how you doing?”
“I’m doing great. Miki couldn’t wait to show me the big article they ran in the Daily News this morning. It’s on page three.”
“I got to pick it up and read it when I get a chance.”
“Do me a favor when you get a chance.”
“Anything.”
“Tell your friend. If he doesn’t want to see me, be a man and tell me to my face.”
“Olivia—”
“Just give him that message for me, will you?”
“Of course.”
Olivia hung up. A moment later, line one on her phone lit up.
“What’s up, Miki?”
“We got
a walk in. He insists that he will only let you cut his hair.”
“What’s his name?”
“Byron Turner.”
Olivia dropped her head. “Have Chuck sit him in my chair. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Gotcha.”
As she neared her chair, she heard Byron shooting some weak game at Lynise, to which she politely smiled. His attention quickly turned to Olivia as he saw her coming his way.
“Hey, you,” he said getting out of the chair to shake her hand. “Congratulations on making this morning’s paper.”
“Thank you.”
“I made some calls to my buddies in California, Philly, Detroit and Washington. They’re in.”
“In for what?”
“What I’ve been trying to tell you all along. Making Butta Cutz a franchise. In ten years we can have a Butta Cutz in all the major cities.”
“Why would you make all these calls and deals without first consulting me? All you did was waste your time.”
“Wait Olivia—”
“No, Byron. We’re going to get something straight, right now. We’re not doing business together and we are never going to do business together.”
“It’s like that?”
“And then some.”
“Will can you at least discuss it with you husband?”
She flashed him a stink smile. “I consult no one, and all of my decisions are final. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Olivia walked away.
“What about my haircut?”
“Lynise will take care of you, won’t you, Lynise?”
“Yes, Miss Martin.”
“Baby!”
“Yeah, ma.”
“Caffeine, please.”
“Gotcha, ma.”
Saint just pulled up into the parking lot of the Adult Learning Center when his cell phone vibrated.
“What’s up, Glenn?”
“How do you sleep at night?”
“Very well, thanks for asking.”
“Olivia just called me. She told me to give you a message.”
“What is it?”
“Be a man and tell her to her face that it’s over.”
“Over? There wasn’t anything between us.”
In The Cut Page 7