“Excuse me, can I speak to you for a moment, Vidal.”
Vidal frowned, aggravated by the interruption.
“He’ll be right back,” Solay assured the man wearing sneakers as she pulled Vidal away.
In private, she told Vidal everything about the possible magazine feature. “Vidal, can you believe it? Can my life get any better?” She realized that she sounded full of herself, but she was too over the top with happiness to tone it down.
“Your life may not get any better, but it looks like somebody just got upgraded.” Vidal nodded his head toward the right. When Solay looked in that direction, she gasped in surprise and nearly choked on her martini. She stared across the room in silent horror for a few moments, refusing to believe her own eyes. Among the illustrious guests was Deon, handsomely dressed in a black suit and tie.
“Mmm, look at your man. He’s wearing the hell out of that suit. I like his swag,” Vidal murmured.
As if Deon’s presence wasn’t shocking enough, hanging on his arm was a black goddess—a forty-ish woman with a complexion so flawless it looked like dark silk. She was stunning and every eye was on her. Her hair was in an elegantly twisted bun and surrounded with dazzling jewels. She was blinging like crazy with diamonds sparkling around her neck, her wrists, and her fingers. A black lace, curve-hugging gown with a short train was the show-stopping dress of the evening. She had a long and graceful neck, long arms and legs for days. And the fluidity of her movements gave her the presence of a prima ballerina. Black swan bitch!
Solay felt utter and passionate hatred for the elegant vixen. Deon had delivered a sucker punch to the gut that was staggering.
“There’s something so appealing about a thug in a suit.” Vidal was being extremely mean-spirited, going for the jugular. “That diva that’s hanging on to him is dripping in diamonds. She must be loaded; I wonder who she is.” With his chin resting upon his palm, Vidal stared at the mystery woman.
“I don’t know who she is, Vidal. But it really doesn’t matter. Deon and I are not exclusive. We both see other people,” Solay said as calmly as she could, trying to hold on to her last shred of dignity. Pretending to be disinterested, she stared into her drink, putting a lot of effort into stirring it with its cute little stick.
“I didn’t know you were seeing other guys, Solay. They must be imaginary friends,” Vidal said with a taunting chuckle. He was paying her back for pushing him out of the picture at the Liberty Bell display, she presumed. Touché!
Though she made a great effort to not look in Deon’s direction, Solay caught another glimpse of him and his date. The bejeweled diva and Deon were deep in conversation. When Deon bent and whispered something in her ear, the woman touched his face in a very intimate manner. Solay felt her heart rate speed up when she noticed Deon slide his hand around the woman’s waist. She felt faint. Sick to her stomach. It was too much to bear; her heart couldn’t take any more.
Vidal noticed her miserable expression, and mercifully let up on the cutting remarks. “You should get in his face and cuss him out. Go make a scene, girl. Embarrass his cheating ass. Believe me, you’ll feel much better.”
Solay shook her head. “I’m okay,” she said in a weak voice.
“Do you want me to go stroll over there and accidentally spill my drink on Miss Thang’s beautiful dress? Just say the word, girl.”
“No, I don’t want any trouble.” After the adrenaline rush of baking and decorating so many cupcakes, Solay suddenly felt worn out.
There were so many people in the room, Deon hadn’t yet noticed Solay. Solay stared at Deon from the other side of the crowded room. It hurt her to the core to see him being so attentive to another woman.
All the air seemed to have left the ballroom. It was absolutely suffocating, and she had to get out of there. “I don’t feel good,” she moaned. Frowning, she flattened her hand against her stomach.
“Well, turn your head; don’t vomit on my Armani suit.” Grimacing, Vidal took several steps backward.
“If you feel like you’re gonna get sick, you should make a trip to the ladies room, Solay. I know you don’t want the photographer getting a shot of you retching your guts out.” Vidal turned up the corner of his lip. “That’s not a good look. Real bad for business.” Vidal wasn’t being mean; he was being brutally honest.
She ducked out of the ballroom, but instead of going to the ladies room, she retrieved her wrap from the coat check, got on the elevator, and rode it down to the hotel lobby. Outside, she pulled the shawl around her shoulders as if to warm herself from the cold, cruel world. She was so choked up, she could barely get the words out to let the doorman know that she needed a cab. It was bad enough that she had been subjected to Deon’s infidelity, but Vidal witnessing her humiliation made it feel ten times worse.
Why would he lie to me? I accepted what he does for a living. I’ve been really understanding. I don’t like the way that he earns his money, but I sucked it up. I dealt with it. After all my kindness and consideration, Deon still couldn’t be honest. He pretended that he was auditioning in New York—why’d he have to lie to me?
Solay wondered if the whole acting story was nothing more than a ruse—a made-up story to justify being a male hoe. Anger, jealousy, and suspiciousness invaded Solay’s mental state. Deon seemed awfully comfortable with that black swan woman, grinning at her like they had a special relationship.
Like Solay, his date tonight had probably started out as a client, until Deon decided to take it to another level. What kind of sick game was he playing?
Relationships! No matter how hard a woman tried to guard her heart…no matter how many concessions she made to keep things running smoothly, a man could never be satisfied. Those bastards always ended up doing something foul. Solay should have never fallen for Deon’s lines. She should have kept her options open and continued renting dick.
She texted Vidal, telling him that she’d left the hotel and was on her way home.
Distraught, she couldn’t hold back the tears. Sitting in the backseat of the cab, Solay started sniffling. The cab driver cleared his throat. “You okay, ma’am?”
“I’m fine,” she wailed, though she was clearly suffering.
“If you say so.” The driver fixed his eyes on traffic while Solay gave into a storm of sobbing.
CHAPTER 41
Solay cried as she paid the cab fare. Blinded by tears, she stared unseeingly inside her purse, and then wiped her eyes as she searched for her keys. She kicked off her heels and changed from evening wear into pajamas, sobbing inconsolably. Once the deluge of tears had finally passed, Solay was left feeling beaten down.
Out of sheer weariness, she fell asleep immediately after dropping into bed. The quiet buzz of her cell seemed as loud as a chainsaw, startling her awake. Rubbing an eye that was puffy from crying and blurry with sleep, she picked up the phone with her free hand and squinted at the screen. The text was from Deon.
I’m sorry, baby. I can explain. Can we talk? The message was followed with a heart emoticon.
Hell, no, you can’t talk to me, you fucking liar! No one had the right to make her feel this kind of misery. No one! She banged the phone down harder than she’d meant to and quickly picked it up, making sure she hadn’t broken the screen.
Playtime was over. No more men interfering with her life.
Vidal and Melanee could talk behind her back; they could call her a cranky, sex-starved bitch. She didn’t care what names they called her. One thing was for sure, love was for suckers and Solay was tired of repeating the same old part.
Over and over, she’d been made to regret having handed her heart to someone that stomped all over it. Men always wanted you to listen to their excuses after they did their dirt. Why? So they could squirm their way back into your life and finish demolishing your heart! She’d had enough. Men were sick puppies and she was even sicker for thinking that there might be one decent man in the bunch.
Telling me he had an audition. Pretending
to be an actor. Hmph! Actor my ass! The only acting that Deon had done was in her bedroom, putting on great performances between the sheets—pretending that he really cared. Why hadn’t he simply let her remain a paying client? I didn’t ask him to get into a relationship—he came at me!
If she hadn’t willed herself to be strong, Solay would have given in to another crying jag. But she refused. Resolute, she pulled the covers up to her shoulders. Deon had broken her heart. She didn’t want to hear any more of his lies. End of story.
Solay and Melanee had been hard at work for a couple of hours when Vidal burst into the kitchen door, holding a steaming Styrofoam cup of coffee. He set the cup on a metal table and untied the designer scarf that was draped around his neck.
“News flash: I got the dirt on Deon’s sugah mama!”
Solay rolled her eyes and sighed. “You can keep that information to yourself. I’m not interested.” She cut an eye at Melanee, and was grateful that her assistant seemed to be absorbed in mixing ingredients, paying no attention to Vidal’s news report.
“You’re gonna want to hear this…” He smacked his lips and twisted his neck for dramatic effect.
“No, I don’t.” Solay shook her head vehemently, but Vidal chose to ignore her.
“The diva is a married woman,” he exclaimed.
“I don’t care!” Solay was livid. She didn’t want to hear anything about that bejeweled, ballerina bitch! Vidal didn’t have an ounce of decency. He knew that her heart was broken. Instead of coming in with drama, first thing in the morning, he should have had some consideration and allowed Solay to grieve in peace…in private.
“Girl, listen. She’s married to one of her servants—her butler! But she didn’t upgrade dude. He’s still the damn butler. He wears a uniform…gloves…the whole shebang! And word is, he doesn’t even call her by her first name. The butler calls his own wife, Madam!”
Taking a sudden interest in the conversation, Melanee stopped stirring and gazed at Vidal, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Solay glowered at Vidal. Come on, Vidal. Damn, what’s wrong with you? This is not cool, running your big mouth all crazy. Any fool knows that a woman who’s been publicly humiliated wouldn’t want to openly discuss it the very next day. Why are you putting me on blast? She glared even harder at Vidal, trying to make him read her mind, but he deliberately ignored the signals she was sending.
“Ya boy deserves a big congratulations. He came up! Last night, Deon was arm candy for one of the richest black women in the Philadelphia area. Her name is Quintouria Stevens. She owns all kinds of shit: weave bars, real estate, a limo service, and a modeling agency.” He shook his bouncy hair. “I should take some head-shots and send them to her agency,” Vidal said thoughtfully. “I’d make a fabulous model.” He began strutting through the kitchen, walking like Naomi Campbell.
Solay was sickened by Vidal’s lack of sensitivity. She had no idea how he’d acquired so much information, nor did she want to know. She envisioned herself choking the black swan’s neck as she squeezed the piping bag, angrily frosting row after row of chocolate cupcakes.
“I don’t have time to listen to gossip, Vidal. I have a business to run. Start packaging the office party order.”
“What office party?” Vidal’s expression turned sour, as if earning his salary was completely beneath him.
“A company called Clemmons and Associates. I think it’s an architectural firm. They’re sending someone over to pick up the order at eleven. Three dozen. It’s a mixed order—equal amounts of chocolate, red velvet and vanilla. I need you to get those cupcakes boxed up before the morning rush starts.”
Vidal picked up his coffee cup. “You’re a trip, Solay. Would it kill you to let me get a couple sips of coffee into my system before you start barking out orders?” Driven out of the kitchen with the threat of work, Vidal sashayed to the front counter to drink his morning coffee, undisturbed.
Solay was glad to be rid of him and his big mouth.
“What was Vidal talking about?” Melanee softly inquired.
Nooo, not you, Melanee! Solay screamed to herself. Does anyone around here mind their own business? Melanee hadn’t expressed any interests beyond her own weird little world in a long time. She and Vidal used to be really tight—at least while on the job, but Melanee had a secret lifestyle; she kept to herself now. When Melanee had offered to get Solay student workers, she’d spoken more words than Solay had heard from her in months. When Melanee wasn’t baking, she was sending text messages to her secret lover—her mystery Master.
Though Solay suspected that Melanee was into some weird sado-masochistic scene, she hadn’t questioned Melanee. Melanee was an adult, free to live her life any way she chose.
And that’s what really irked Solay. For someone who was as guarded about her own personal life as Melanee, she sure had a lot of gall trying to get all up in Solay’s private business.
“Deon and I broke up,” Solay reluctantly admitted, and then released a sigh.
“Really? You broke up last night…at the mural event? What happened? Did you two have a big fight?” Melanee peered at Solay, eager for information.
What’s up with this chick? Why is she probing me for details? “It’s a sensitive subject. I really don’t want to talk about it. Um…to be honest, I don’t even want to hear his name. I hope you can respect that.”
“Okay.” Melanee gave a disinterested shrug, but her gleaming eyes told a different story.
Solay left the kitchen, deciding to have a talk with Vidal.
Vidal was sitting on a stool, drinking coffee. “I’m gonna box up that order in a minute!” he said sharply when he heard Solay approaching from behind.
She stood next to him. “I want to talk to you about Deon.”
He turned and faced her. “The mayor came through and he introduced the rich chick as a major contributor. While she was giving a speech about the importance of murals in the inner city, I sidled up to Deon and let him know that you were in the house. At that point, I hadn’t realized that you’d dipped out. Anyway, he wasn’t surprised since the cupcake display featured the Scandalicious logo.”
“How did he act…what did he say?” Solay hated herself for wanting to know.
“He asked me where you were. We searched the crowd for a few minutes and then I noticed your text, and I told him that you were so upset that you bounced.”
“I actually came out here to ask you a favor.”
“You need me to escort you to another event?” Vidal was all smiles.
“No, not any time soon. But I really appreciate your support last night. I’m sorry for hogging all the attention at the display.”
Vidal twisted his lips at the memory. “That’s okay. I wasn’t tryna steal your shine.”
“Anyway, this break-up with Deon isn’t easy. So would you kindly stop mentioning his name?”
“Okaaay. My bad.” There was annoyance in Vidal’s tone.
“And don’t talk about that rich woman, either. Please, Vidal. I’m in a lot of pain.”
“Solay, I know you’re my boss and everything, but you out of pocket, trying to tell me what I can and cannot talk about.”
“As a friend, Vidal. Please.”
“Oh, all right,” Vidal conceded. “I suppose I can respect that.” He picked up the coffee container, and finished off his morning brew.
CHAPTER 42
A surprise blow job from Chevonne was a special thanks now that Lincoln had agreed to go to marriage counseling. His wife had turned up the heat several notches in their sex life. She didn’t stiffen at his touch anymore. In fact, she often initiated sex. Feeling desired by his spouse was a good feeling. This morning, after swallowing every drop of his passion, Chevonne kissed and whispered that she cherished his love.
Lincoln was on top of the world and nothing could dampen his spirit. Not even being sent on a cupcake run with the new kid, Amber. Having a happy home life made being treated like a damn gopher—like he was som
e kind of a chump—almost bearable. The office party idea was Amber’s idea. She had complained to the boss that the vibe at the firm was tense. She thought the place could use a dose of cheerfulness, and suggested an impromptu lunchtime meet-and-greet, to give the old staffers an opportunity to get to know the new employees.
The young newcomers had a cockiness that was hard to stomach. Fat chance that a meet-and-greet office luncheon would warm the hearts of the embittered remaining staff.
The boss went along with Amber’s silly idea, and that surprised Lincoln. After all, Frank’s actions were the reason for the discontent—replacing experienced professionals with obnoxious, wet-behind-the-ear kids.
A real family man, Frank had been happily married for over ten years, and had three sons that he bragged about constantly. If Lincoln didn’t know better, he’d swear that the boss was smashing Amber.
In truth, he liked being inside the cupcake joint. He slid into the same cushy seat that he’d sat in the last time he was here. While Amber transacted business with the young gay man at the counter, Lincoln took in the surroundings. He felt a giddy sense of excitement, like a schoolboy who had snuck into a whore’s boudoir. The place screamed naughtiness. Being that sex sells, the concept was a great idea. Maybe he was in the wrong profession. He chuckled to himself.
While he was enjoying the atmosphere, he noticed Amber peeking inside the shiny red boxes.
“This is not McDonald’s drive-thru. You don’t have to check behind me; your order is perfect. I packed it myself.” The gay guy’s slim body jerked in irritation. He rolled his eyes at Amber as she continued to inspect the contents.
“I asked for sprinkles to be added on all the Vanilla Kiss cupcakes.”
“I ain’t get that memo! You musta wrote it in invisible ink!”
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