Sharp Curves Ahead

by Allison Hobbs

  With so many powerful, money people in attendance, Jayla should have used the opportunity to network and pass her business cards around, but she felt too insecure about her appearance to attempt to hobnob with the wealthy elite.

  For the rest of the evening, Jayla sat at a table in the back of the room and tried her best to be invisible. It would have been rude not to speak to Bailee’s mom, and so she got out of her seat to say hello when she noticed Giselle making her way to the restroom, dripping in blinding diamonds and wearing a phenomenal white dress that had to have cost quite a few stacks.

  Bailee’s dad had left Giselle a lot of bank, and Jayla wasn’t surprised that the woman reeked money.

  Jayla felt big and oafish as she stood next to Giselle, who was sleek and trim and ridiculously youthful. Instead of aging, the woman was going in reverse. It was no wonder Bailee had a strained relationship with her mother. Bailee was twice Giselle’s size and not nearly as glamorous. That had to suck. A mother had no business looking better than her daughter.

  For the most part, Jayla stayed in her seat. Sitting allowed her to watch the door as she waited for Sadeeq, and it kept the guests from noticing how tight and ill-fitting her dress was.

  Thankfully, the servers supplied her with a steady stream of food and drinks, and she was happy to accept both.

  When it was time for Bailee and Trent to cut their cake, Sadeeq was still nowhere to be seen. After the cake cutting, Trent’s boss stood to make a congratulatory toast. Feeling alone and abandoned, Jayla almost burst into tears in the midst of the tribute.

  Although she was happy for Bailee to have made it to the ten-year mark, she was so sad for herself. She couldn’t believe Sadeeq had stood her up on such an important night, and after all she’d gone through to help him get there.

  What was the purpose of getting him a rental car, picking up his suit, and running around like a crazy woman only for him not to show? There had to be a logical explanation. She tried her best to enjoy the party, but she couldn’t. She stood up and walked to a secluded area where she could curse Sadeeq out privately, but after repeatedly getting his voicemail, all she could do was leave heated messages and type angry texts.

  With her thumbs flying over the keypad, she fired off insults that matched her fury, calling him every name she could think of: bitch-ass, punk-ass nigga, broke-ass bitch.

  Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t hold back her tears, and she ended up rushing to the restroom to cry her heart out.

  When she came out of the bathroom, Bailee and Trent were on the dance floor, looking lovingly into each other’s eyes and smiling as they whispered endearing words to each other.

  It was too much for her heart and her stomach to bear. The sight of the loving couple, along with too many glasses of champagne, had left Jayla feeling nauseous.

  Sick to her stomach and teary-eyed, she waded through the sea of black suits and pastel dresses. It took a while to make it out of the crowded ballroom, and she felt bad for not telling Bailee goodnight. But she had to get out of there before she embarrassed herself and Bailee by vomiting all over the beautifully decorated room.

  Inside her hotel room, she knelt in front of the toilet, but nothing came up. She stumbled over to the bed and collapsed onto it. With her head hanging over the edge, everything she’d eaten and drunk came up. When Jayla attempted to stand up to clean the mess, she heaved again, and this time, she regurgitated all over herself and the bed.

  She collapsed to the floor, asking herself where she’d gone wrong. How had she ended up in such a miserable place with a no-good, married man? Why didn’t she have true love with a reliable and successful man like Bailee had?

  She managed to get up off of the floor and into the shower. And at some point while soaping her skin, she decided that she’d had enough of Sadeeq’s shit. She and Sadeeq were over. Today was the last time he would disappoint her. She was not giving him any more money or helping him out, ever again. Fuck him and his entire stupid-ass family!

  And fuck this hotel room, too. It was time to pack up and go home. Hell if she was going to try to get some sleep in a room that reeked of vomit and was a reminder that she’d be stood up once again.

  Dressed in the tights, loose sweater, and fur boots that she’d arrived in, Jayla stuffed Sadeeq’s suit in a waste bin and then checked out of the hotel.

  During the drive home, she decided that she would block his number and refuse to answer the door when he inevitably came around with a handy excuse for tonight.

  At home, she came up with another idea. Not only would she leave Sadeeq alone for good, but she was also going to lose weight. Not the way she usually lost—dropping a few pounds and then gaining even more back.

  This time she was going to take serious steps to change her life for good.

  Once the thought came to her mind she began searching online for bariatric weight loss surgeons in Philadelphia. She found a ton of before and after pictures of women and men who’d undergone the surgery. Their results were amazing and many of them looked like totally different people.

  Jayla could not wait to schedule a consultation for the gastric sleeve procedure.

  Once she lost the weight, she would have more confidence and be able to get and keep a good man. The prospect of finally doing something positive for herself instantly put her in a better mood.

  However, her happiness was short-lived.

  Her phone began to buzz with a text message from Sadeeq.

  As her eyes scanned her phone, her lips pulled into a grim line.

  Radiance was in an accident in the rental. I need you to come to the 18th district police station & let the cops know she didn’t steal the car. Oh yeah, when you come, bring my suit with you.

  Jayla gasped and covered her mouth. As a sledgehammer pounded inside her chest, her stomach lurched, but this time nothing came up.

  If ever there was a time that she wanted to collapse, it was now. She wanted to hit the floor so hard that she incurred severe head trauma, leading to a coma that lasted many, many years. And hopefully when she awakened, the bullshit message that Sadeeq had left her would be nothing more than a bad dream.

  Chapter 13

  After binge-eating three times in the past two weeks, Bailee hadn’t managed to diet down to a smaller dress size as she’d planned, but she was grateful to be able to fit into her anniversary dress without any major alterations.

  She didn’t have her mother’s taste in couture fashion, but over the years, she’d become skilled at selecting the perfect dress based on its cut, its ability to stretch, and the way it flattered her body. She’d never be caught dead wearing anything that gaped, puckered, pulled, tugged, or felt uncomfortable.

  So far, the evening had turned out perfect. The staff at the Ritz-Carlton was professional and organized, making sure Bailee’s vision came to life. The guests raved about the beautiful setting and poured lavish praise over every well thought-out detail: the sumptuous food, the four-tiered cake, the rose centerpieces, and the dessert stations were big hits.

  Sadly, Bailee was only going through the motions, pretending to be celebrating ten years of marital bliss. Trent was role-playing as well, lovingly embracing her as they smiled contentedly for the camera.

  When they shared the first dance, Trent’s lips brushed against her cheek. “You’re more beautiful than the day I married you,” he said, gazing at her tenderly.

  Her face twitched as she struggled to keep from grimacing. With all eyes on them, and wanting to keep up appearances, she smiled back. “You’re so full of shit,” she said, holding her smile.

  “I haven’t been easy to live with lately, and I apologize. It’s not you—it’s work. The amount of stress I’ve been under is unbelievable.”

  She laughed gaily for the benefit of the onlookers. “And you decided to take your troubles out on me?”

  “They gave the Cranston account to that little fuck, Ted Thorndale, and I’m expected to work under him. I’ve given th
e firm seven years of my life, but I can’t stay there any longer. It’s degrading.”

  “And you’ve decided to confide in me…because?”

  “Because I need you to ask your mom to give us a loan—an advance until you get your inheritance.”

  “What?” Realizing that she was frowning, Bailee quickly relaxed her features and smiled.

  Going along with the charade, Trent smiled back adoringly. “I want to start my own firm. I’ve already picked out office space, and I’m sure I can take a few of my accounts with me. I’m going to show those bastards that I don’t need them for a meal ticket.”

  “Oh, so that’s what I’ve been to you—a meal ticket?” She dropped the smile and narrowed her eyes, no longer caring who was looking at them.

  He crinkled his brows. “I earn more than you, so how have you been my meal ticket?”

  “Okay, I’ll rephrase my words. All these years, you’ve considered the money I’ll eventually inherit as your safety net.” She shook her head. “My mother tried to warn me that you were after my money, but I refused to believe her.”

  “I was never after your money. After all, it’s not like you’re exactly rolling in dough. You don’t have control over your father’s wealth; your mother does,” he said snidely.

  “You’re asking me for money, but I’m in the dark about why your behavior changed so abruptly. One minute you were the man I thought I knew, but after I declined your sudden and urgent baby request, you became a monster, treating me like scum. Was that your plan—to start saddling me down with kids to weaken me? Did you think that by mistreating me you could bully me into asking my mother for the money to finance your venture?” she asked in a voice that was louder than she’d intended.

  “People are looking at us, Bailee. Let’s discuss this after the party.”

  She laughed, not bothering to hide the bitterness in the sound. “I feel as if you’ve been playing me for all these years, and I don’t give a damn who’s looking.” She stared at Trent, as if seeing him for the first time. The face that she used to love gazing at now enraged her.

  She stopped dancing and disentangled herself. She surprised herself when her palm suddenly connected with Trent’s face. The sound of the slap reverberated at the exact time that the song came to an end, and heads turned in their direction.

  Trent froze. His eyes blinked in disbelief.

  Feeling self-satisfied, Bailee left Trent in the middle of the dance floor, and strutted over to the bar, not caring that the guests were gawking at her. “Give me two bottles of champagne,” she said to the bartender.

  Discovering that her marriage had been a sham was a reason to get good and drunk.

  Purse tucked under her arm and a bottle of chilled champagne in each hand, she walked in the direction of the elevator with her head held high. She’d never imagined her marriage ending, and certainly not in the middle of a crowded ballroom while in the midst of celebrating ten years.

  She caught a glimpse of Giselle holding court with two men from Trent’s office. Usually, Bailee felt a twinge of envy when men fawned over her mother, but not tonight. She was relieved that Giselle was distracted, permitting her to make a clean getaway.

  As she waited for the elevator, guests, as well as hotel staff, cast inquiring glances in her direction.

  Macy, her assistant, dashed toward her. “What happened out there? Are you okay?” Phony concern coated her words and her eyes twinkled with excitement as she waited for Bailee to explain why she’d slapped her husband.

  “I’m fine,” Bailee replied curtly and then hurried inside the elevator. She had no intention of satisfying Macy’s or anyone else’s morbid curiosity.

  Despite her irritation with the entire situation, she found it humorous that Trent, who loathed public spectacles, would have to come up with an explanation for his wife’s abrupt departure while suffering through the humiliation of getting slapped across the face. She laughed to herself, imagining him blaming her conduct on too much alcohol.

  The one person she had expected to be right on her heels, concerned about her well-being, was Jayla. Jayla should have been rushing behind her, carrying two additional bottles of champagne, and squeezing inside the elevator seconds before the doors slid closed.

  But the last she’d seen of Jayla, she was holding her phone pressed to an ear, and looking agitated.

  Busy greeting her guests, Bailee hadn’t been able to find out what had happened to Sadeeq. All she knew was that he was a no-show, and Jayla seemed distraught over his absence. She’d probably gone to her room to cry in private.

  Bailee felt like crying, too, but she refused to. Crying was banned for the rest of the night. She planned to call Jayla and invite her to her suite so they could turn up together. Jayla was going to be stunned to learn that she and Bailee were in the same boat.

  Bailee’s perfect marriage was as bogus as Jayla’s affair with Sadeeq. Her life had fallen apart and she should have been hysterical after learning that her husband was after her money, but she was strangely calm.

  Knowing the truth had set her free. She didn’t have to seek out a marriage counselor and she no longer had to rack her brain, wondering what was going on with Trent. His ploy to separate her from her assets had backfired, and he’d lost his golden goose.

  Stepping out of the elevator, she recalled how she’d fought Giselle tooth and nail about making Trent sign a prenup, and now she was glad she’d listened to her. Trent would leave the marriage with only his personal belongings and his car. The condo was hers, and she planned to change the locks ASAP.

  As she ambled down the hallway, her phone jangled inside her purse. She sighed and didn’t bother to look at it. It was probably Giselle wondering where she’d run off to.

  She’d shoot Giselle a quick text in a few minutes, telling her that she had a headache. Luckily, she didn’t have to worry about Giselle leaving the party and personally coming to check on her. She wasn’t that kind of doting mother and never had been. She’d take Bailee at her word, tell her to feel better, and she’d continue enjoying the party.

  Eventually, Bailee would have to come clean and admit that her husband had been conning her all along. He’d played the long game, willing to wait until her thirty-fifth birthday. Of course, her mother wouldn’t say the words, I told you so, but her silence would speak volumes. She’d never believed that her flawed daughter was loveable and she’d tried to tell Bailee so.

  Inside the luxurious suite, she took her phone out of her purse.

  Where are you? Giselle inquired via a text.

  I have a terrible migraine, Bailee replied and then powered off the phone.

  She kicked off her shoes, popped a cork, and stood in front of the window, admiring the spectacular view as she sipped champagne straight from the bottle.

  She had every right to be hysterical, but she was eerily calm and accepting. There was no fight left in her. She gulped down mouthfuls of champagne, hoping for a buzz, hoping to feel something besides numbness.

  Her mind backtracked to her teen years when Giselle used to Photoshop all her pictures, cropping out her lower half and making her appear to be smaller by slimming down her chubby cheeks and her chunky arms. Getting straight A’s was not good enough for Giselle; she wanted a normal daughter. I want you to be normal, she’d said when explaining why she was shipping Bailee off to a fat camp, for her own good.

  Bailee’s struggle with weight had been a lifelong battle until Trent, who repeatedly told her that she was beautiful the way she was.

  What’s he doing with her fat ass? Mean girls used to whisper whenever Bailee and Trent walked around campus, hugged up together. Despite the haters that gave her and Trent second glances whenever they were out together, she always considered herself to be confident, smart, and amazing, regardless of her size.

  She thought she had embraced her curves a long time ago, but had she? The truth of the matter was that Trent’s alleged love had surrounded her in a protective bubble,
giving her a false sense of security.

  Now that she was without protection, where did she go from here? Back to self-hatred and disgust? Back to avoiding her naked image in the mirror?

  She shook her head adamantly. She refused to be the self-loathing person she once was. She either had to get serious and lose the weight or learn how to love every roll of flab, every stretch mark, and every extra pound.

  As she chugged down champagne, she wondered what was going on with Jayla.

  Certain that a few glasses of bubbly would help Jayla get over Sadeeq’s absence, Bailee picked up her phone to invite Jayla to her suite, so that they could drown their sorrows together.

  Jayla’s phone rang and rang and eventually went to voicemail.

  “Where are you? If you don’t call me right back, I’m putting out an APB on you,” Bailee said, sounding carefree.

  Her entire world had collapsed and amazingly she hadn’t fallen apart. And she wouldn’t. Somehow she’d find the strength to find peace in being alone.

  But not tonight.

  There was no reason to hide out in her room like she’d done something to be ashamed of. Deciding to return to the party and have a drunken good time, she slid her feet back into her heels and left the suite.

  * * *

  After making a pit stop at Jayla’s room, and getting no response, she stepped out of the elevator and sauntered toward the ballroom. Stopping at the entrance, she surveyed the crowd. Drinks were flowing from the open bar and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Apparently, her presence hadn’t been missed.

  Searching for Jayla, her eyes roved from table to table.

  Suddenly, her breath caught in her throat and her heartbeat accelerated as she struggled to comprehend what her eyes were seeing. She blinked rapidly in an attempt to adjust her faulty vision, yet there it was before her.

  Renowned adversaries, Giselle and Trent, were huddled at her mother’s table, engaged in what appeared to be an intensely intimate conversation. As partygoers cast surreptitious glances at the cozy pair, Bailee stood transfixed while her brain struggled to make sense of the incomprehensible scene.