by Ray, Shamara
“We can have Ellison’s cousin, Daphne, substitute for her.”
“I’m not substituting anyone.”
“Think of the photos. An enormously pregnant woman will ruin the symmetry.”
“Excuse me?”
“I suppose the photographer can work around her. Perhaps exclude her from some of the shots.”
“I think we need to table this discussion until a later date. I would like to speak to Ellis about a few things. I also need time to talk to my mother.”
She ceased eating her food, wiping her mouth with her linen napkin. “I can remember what I was like before I married Ellison’s father.” She focused on an empty chair at the other end of the table as she spoke. “I was young. Naïve. Impressionable. Consumed by idealistic fantasies of romantic bliss. It took many years for me to learn that marriage was not what I had imagined it to be. It was hard work. Trying, even. Much like a business.” Bebe turned her glare on me with burning intensity. “You can’t function in a marriage on whims and notions. In marriage you need a plan, a blueprint, so to speak. A map to navigate you through the years. But most importantly, marriage is about appearances. It’s about presentation. It’s all about how you represent yourself as a couple to the world. You may have had the most horrific fight of your life with your husband, but when you step outside of the door, your best face had better be in place. No one should be able to detect the slightest fissure in your façade. Presentation is key. The sooner you embrace the concept, the better. You, my dear, will represent the Harlow family. Starting now. Think of your relationship with me as an extension of your marriage. If you are to be a part of this family, know that nothing comes easy. I hope that we understand each other.” She tossed her napkin next to her plate, then pushed her chair back from the table. “When you call your mother, let her know that we’ve settled on April in New York. I have an appointment with my manicurist, but I’ll send Wesley in with your dessert. Stay as long as you like, dear.”
Bebe paraded out the room, leaving me at the table in a literal stupor. My eyes welled up with tears. Unfortunately, she may have predicted one thing accurately—Ellis and I were about to have the fight of our lives.
• • •
Ellis agreed to come by my apartment after he finished at the office. With Malik out of town, I didn’t have to worry about being interrupted. I waited in the living room, posted at the window, for his arrival. His mother’s behavior was inexcusable. I needed to hear directly from Ellis whether he knew what Bebe had planned for our wedding. I barely wanted to address the other issues she harped on. I fought the urge to cry again. This was not the time for weakness.
I was completely out of my element with the Bebe situation. Every relationship I’d been in I had gotten along with the mother. I was the girl that mothers rooted for. I was the one mothers wanted their sons to marry. I had always been good enough, no, make that perfect, for their sons. In some instances I’d been too good. Now I had a rich witch to contend with that felt I wasn’t worthy to shine her son’s shoes.
Ellis’s driver double-parked the limousine in front of my brown-stone. Ellis stepped from the vehicle. He didn’t bother to wait to have his door opened for him. I went to buzz him into the building.
He walked into the apartment and leaned in for a kiss. I craned my neck to the side, avoiding his lips. Ellis backed off. I closed the door behind him and led him into the living room.
“Your mother and I had lunch today and it was very enlightening. I have been informed that you and I will be married in April at your mother’s church. Do you know anything about this?”
“Mother merely made a suggestion.”
“A suggestion? Your mother practically rammed my own wedding plans down my throat.”
“Lina, my mother wants to be helpful. She made it clear to me that she is excited about our wedding and is willing to assist you in any way possible.”
“Bullshit!”
Ellis narrowed his eyes at me. “Watch your tone.”
“You have no fucking idea what your mother put me through today. She’s controlling, manipulative and obviously has you wrapped around her finger.”
“I’m only going to say this once. We will not continue this conversation if you don’t calm down. Now I’m willing to hear what you have to say, but I expect you to be respectful of my mother.”
“Respect your mother, Ellis? She doesn’t fucking respect me.”
“I’m warning you . . . ”
“Your mother told me that I wasn’t good enough for you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Mother would never say such a thing.”
“She may not have said those exact words, but she insinuated, and she made sure that I got the message loud and clear. Do you know what else Bebe had the nerve to say to me?”
“Lower your voice.”
“Bebe told me that one of my best friends should be booted from the wedding party because her presence in the photos will destroy the pictures.”
“I’m certain this is a misunderstanding that can be rectified.”
“I understood your mother perfectly. I’ll have no input in my own wedding because, according to her, it’s about putting on airs and treating marriage like a business. She totally discounted the fact that I want my own mother involved in the planning.”
“Lina, I doubt Mother discouraged your family’s involvement. In fact, why don’t all three of you arrange a meeting to plan everything?”
“I would never subject my mother to your mother’s wrath.”
Ellis came over to me and coaxed me down onto the couch. He sat next to me. “I can see you’re upset. I want you to try and calm your nerves. I’m sorry that your lunch with Mother did not fare so well. I know she has the best intentions. Apparently something went wrong somewhere. We don’t have to make any decisions today. Right now, the only thing I want you to do is relax. I’ll send the limo off for the evening and order some food.”
“But why would you agree to a date without consulting me first?”
Ellis put his finger to my lips. “That’s enough of this for tonight. I’ll talk to Mother in the morning. Go relax.”
I headed to my bedroom—not because I thought resting was a good idea—I went because I had to get away from Ellis. He could weasel his way out of an explanation for now, but this was far from over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MALIK
I was getting dressed to meet Kai at Silks, one of the restaurants in our hotel, for dinner at seven. I was staying in a cool city view room at the Mandarin Oriental. The hotel was nice, I couldn’t complain, but Kai was posted up in a suite with two bedrooms, a private terrace and a view of San Francisco Bay. She chalked up our difference in accommodations to my last-minute reservation.
We arrived yesterday afternoon and went from the airport straight to Kai’s first meeting. She briefed me on the plane and I co-pitched her client, a major bank headquartered in San Francisco. We secured the account, headed back to the hotel, then went to our respective rooms. I settled in, ordered room service, watched a little television and was asleep by ten.
The next morning, I accompanied Kai to two of her three meetings. I spent the remainder of my afternoon on the ferry tour to Alcatraz. I walked through the cells of some of the most notorious prisoners in history. As I toured the cellblocks I felt claustrophobic, trapped. I thought about how a trip to a prison should be mandatory for all young black males. Maybe a glimpse into a life of confinement would be a deterrent to a life of crime. The only thing that kept me out of trouble was my father. He made sure I knew that if I got into any trouble I didn’t need to worry about the cops, the judge or being locked up. He swore that he would kill me before it ever got that far. I believed him. I kept my nose clean, studied hard, went to college and was now on the cusp of starting my own business.
I sprayed on some Gucci cologne and then put on my striped button-up shirt, tucking it into my slacks. I slipped on my black loafers, grabbed my wallet
and my room key, and then went downstairs to meet Kai.
I had the waiter bring me a Johnnie Walker Gold while I waited at the table for Kai. I was finishing up my first drink when she strutted into the restaurant. Her legs, bare and oiled, mesmerized me as she approached the table. The sparkle in her short, glittery dress reflected the light from the chandeliers. I pulled out Kai’s chair for her.
I settled back into my seat. “You shouldn’t be allowed to be that damn sexy.”
“I thought we could check out the nightlife after dinner.”
Our waiter came back to take Kai’s drink order. She asked for a dirty martini. I ordered another Gold Label.
“Make that Johnnie Walker Blue,” Kai said. He waited for my consent. I nodded and he went off to do his job. “Why skimp?” she asked.
I laughed. “I usually reserve the Blue for special occasions.”
“You don’t consider this special? You and I in a beautiful city . . . me in this dress . . .the entire night ahead of us . . . ”
I reconsidered. “Definitely a Blue Label night.”
“If you think about it, you and I have the best of both worlds. We work well together and we play together even better. I wanted you with me in California because I knew we’d have a good time.”
“And we have a project to complete.”
“Let’s keep it real. Either one of us can finish that project with our eyes closed.”
She wasn’t lying. The majority of the presentation was completed. “I understand,” I said, imitating like I was buffing my nails on my shirt. “You couldn’t resist bringing the man along.”
We both laughed. Our waiter returned with our drinks and I ordered for myself and Kai.
“Okay, that was smooth.”
“What?”
“Ordering dinner for me. Most men don’t take such liberties.”
“It’s a neglected art form. And I think you already know I’m not most men.”
Kai nodded slowly. “You’re good, Malik. You must have legions of women enamored by you.”
I had to laugh at her assessment of me. “It’s the small things that men fail to do that makes one brotha more appealing than the next. If I order for a woman and that one thing turns her on, and as a result she endears herself to me, then who am I to deny her affections?”
“What other methods are you employing to entice these women?”
“It wouldn’t make much sense for me to reveal my arsenal of tactics—though something tells me with you it doesn’t matter.”
“Are you saying I’m not worthy of your seduction?”
“I’m saying that I don’t think my tactics would work on you. See, you have your own little games you play and you’d be the one to recognize mine.”
“Let’s make a deal. I promise not to use any of my romantic devices on you and you can’t use any on me. Agreed?”
“Romantic devices? If you mean sex toys, then I can’t agree to those terms.”
“Well, since you’re resorting to jokes I’m going to assume you can’t handle me or what I’m offering you.”
I put my game face on and got down to business. “Exactly what are you offering, Kai?”
“I haven’t come across many men that aren’t intimidated by me. I know what men think of me. I’m an exploit, something to be conquered. I see how the guys in the office act when I’m around and how they whisper when they think I’m not paying attention. In fact, I like it. I take their constant tongue wagging as a compliment. And then there’s you—so unlike the rest. The one man in the office that’s able to get my attention but never tried. Malik, I’m giving you my full attention and I want yours.”
“You’ve got it.”
“What do I have to do to keep it?”
“Be creative.”
“I’m asking what it takes to get closer to you.”
I tasted my Blue, let it slide down my throat. You have to be careful with Blue. It goes down smooth and easy. I’d seen a lot of brothers get drunk off the Blue by drinking too much, too fast. Blue was meant to be savored, not guzzled like a cold beer. I peered into Kai’s waiting eyes. I had no idea what to tell her. My usual speech about not settling down didn’t seem appropriate. She wasn’t like the women I typically dated. I intentionally dated women that tended to go along with my program. That wasn’t Kai. She had a program of her own—of which I had to admit to having a certain curiosity. “I don’t think anyone can truthfully answer a question like that. I can tell you anything. I can run down a list of likes and dislikes, but in the end, the only thing that brings two people closer is interaction, and there’s no guarantee that you’ll want to be close to them once you really get to know ’em.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
• • •
I awoke the next morning in Kai’s king-size bed, in her expensive suite, with her face in my chest and her legs tangled with mine. We hit a few of the local hot spots after dinner, so she could shake her ass all over the dance floor. Our last stop was an after-hours lounge. I was chillin’ on the sofa while Kai danced in front of me, working her body like a pro to the music. She was bouncing and bending, giving me an exclusive two-for-one package of cleavage and thong action. When she began to bless me with a scorching-hot lap dance, I dragged her out of there and back to the hotel to hose her down.
Kai stirred, rolling her body away from mine. She turned on her side and pulled the covers over her head. I crept from the bed, went to the living room to throw on my clothes, and then made a stealth-like exit. It was only five a.m. when I got back to my room, but I showered and shaved anyway. I sat on the edge of the bed in my towel and used the phone on the nightstand to check my messages at the office. I grabbed the notepad from the table and scribbled down the important numbers that required an immediate response. It was after eight in the morning in New York, an ideal time to get my calls out of the way.
I checked in with my assistant after I wrapped up my business calls. She filled me in on what had transpired in my absence. Not much. I told her to expect me in the office on Friday afternoon, pushed the button to disconnect our call but held on to the receiver—temporarily lost in thought. I hazily punched in the numbers for my last call. The phone rang until the voicemail picked up. Melina’s voice on the message declared that neither of us was home to take the call. I hung up, declining to wait for the beep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
MELINA
Nadia buzzed my phone to ask if I wanted to take a call from Charlee. I was grateful for the break and told her to put the call through. Charlee was in L.A. taking care of business as usual. She called to tell me that she was worried about Giselle. She had been calling her for a few days and had been unsuccessful in reaching her. Earlier in the afternoon, she called the hospital and they told her Giselle was on vacation for the week. Neither of us was aware that Giselle was on vacation. I agreed to go by her apartment after work to check on her.
I had been so wrapped up in my own drama lately, that I hadn’t reached out to anyone. After my disastrous lunch with Bebe last week I sort of went underground. I didn’t want to tell my girls there was trouble in paradise. I knew Charlee would go off on an overblown tangent, egging me on to kick Ellis and his mother to the curb, and Giselle would try to persuade me to work it out at any expense. Wasn’t it enough that my problems with my future husband and his mother were plaguing me; why infect anyone else?
At five-thirty I packed my briefcase and left the office. I drove over to Giselle’s at the height of rush hour. Thankfully, Giselle had a parking garage underneath her building and owned two spaces with her condo. I pulled into her guest spot and then went inside. The desk attendant called upstairs, spoke briefly to Giselle and received clearance to send me up. I stepped inside of the mirrored elevator and pressed the button for the twenty-third floor. I fluffed my loose curls in the mirror while singing along to the light music coming from the speakers. “Wrapped Around Your Finger” by Sting, actually The Police, was playing. I ow
ned a few CDs by Sting. He was one of those white boys I could groove to when relaxing at home alone. I loved his melodic voice.
I walked down the corridor and found Giselle waiting for me at the door. I gave her a hug and kiss as I entered the apartment. She was wearing a pair of baggy sweat pants and a fitted tank with thin straps. I rubbed her small bulge of a tummy.
The television in the living room was muted and open magazines littered the coffee table. I went over to the sofa and picked up the magazine closest to me. Parents Magazine. I scanned the others. Pregnancy Magazine. Fit Pregnancy. Working Mother. American Baby.
I smiled up at Giselle. She sat next to me on the sofa and sighed. Her hands instinctively went to her stomach and started rubbing.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Tired, but good.”
“You know, Gigi, we’re here for you if and when you need us.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“Are your parents excited about becoming grandparents again?”
“I haven’t told them yet.”
“You’re almost four months pregnant and you haven’t shared the news with your parents?”
“They’ve been in Florida for the past few weeks. I’m waiting until they return to break the news to them.”
“I can’t imagine them not being excited.”
“I can. I don’t think this is the path they had in mind for me.”
“Giselle, you’ve done everything right in life. You have a wonderful career, two homes and you will be a great mother.”
“This wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out. I wanted the whole package. I didn’t want to be a single mother. My child,” she gripped her stomach, “this child, deserves better than this.”
“You are being way too hard on yourself. You’re going to give that child the world.”
“Yeah, everything except a father—the one thing that no child should be without.”
“If you feel that strongly about it, then maybe you should get the father back in the picture.”
“It’s not that easy.”