Just Another Damn Love Story

by Caleb Alexander

  Kimberly leaned forward and pressed her lips against Sterling’s, kissing him softly at first, and then more firmly the second time. On the third kiss, their tongues met. He tasted like cinnamon to her, while she tasted like mint to him. She became lost in his embrace, and felt herself floating away.

  “Don’t do this to me,” Kimberly whispered.

  “Do what?” Sterling asked.

  “This. Don’t do this.”

  “You’re going to have to explain to me what you’re talking about,” Sterling told her.

  “What is this? What are we doing, Sterling?” Kimberly turned away from him, and peered out toward the ocean. “I’m not ready for another one of these. I can’t afford to go through another one of these. Not right now, not yet.”

  Sterling rested him hands on her shoulders. “Afford another what? I’m not asking you to invest in anything that you don’t feel you’re ready for. We can take our time, be friends, get to know one another. I’m willing to go as slow as I have to, I’m willing to walk with you until the end of time, if that’s what it takes.”

  She turned back towards him. “Why? Why are you willing to commit that type of time? You hardly know me. Am I your investment on the side, while you fulfill your needs elsewhere?”

  Sterling let out a half laugh. “You give me too much credit. I don’t have another woman, and I’m not in a relationship right now. I don’t sleep around, and that’s for two reasons. One, because my Momma raised me right, and two, because I’m afraid of HIV. I’m willing to put the time into this relationship because that’s what commitment is all about. You’re worth it, Kimberly, and whoever led you to believe that you weren’t worth a man’s full commitment has you fooled. You’re an extraordinary woman, and I’m glad that I met you.”

  Kimberly reached into her purse, pulled out her business card, and handed it to Sterling. “My cell phone number is on there also.”

  Sterling smiled and tucked the card into his pocket. “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you, Sterling,” Kim told him. “I haven’t had a man make me feel like that in some time.”

  “Feel like what?”

  “Worthy.”

  “Sterling!” A voice called out to him from behind.

  Sterling and Kimberly turned in the direction from which it came.

  “I just had to come and shake your hand personally.” The gentleman told him.

  “Sergio!” Sterling said surprised.

  Another gentleman walked just behind Sergio. He kissed Sterling on both cheeks.

  “Georgio!” Sterling said, greeting him.

  “Bellisimo!” Georgio declared. “You stole the show, my friend!”

  “That kimono was exquisite!” Sergio told him. “And those shoes!”

  “And that parka!” Georgio said, kissing the tips of his fingers. “Marvelous!”

  “Well, Georgio, you and Sergio inspire me,” Sterling told them.

  Kimberly backed up and turned toward the ocean. Her mind was on Sterling. Could he really be all that he was cracked up to be? He seemed like a nice guy. In fact, too nice. That brought two questions into her head. One, was he just a big sham? Or, was he too nice for her to risk hurting? She had heard about those rebound relationships. The ones where the next guy comes along, picks you up off of your feet, and then ends up getting hurt once you’re feeling better and ready to move on. Could she hurt him like that? And what about John? A man that she had loved with every fiber of her being. What if he came to her and said that he loved her, and wanted to be with her, and that he was willing to move away with her and start life fresh somewhere else? What would that mean? Would she go? Could she hurt this man standing behind her like that?

  Kimberly stood facing the ocean, lost in her thoughts so much, that she never realized that she had three of the biggest designers in the world standing behind her talking.

  Chapter Nine

  St. Phillip’s Episcopal Church was a one hundred and ninety year old neo-gothic style church, planted in the middle of Harlem’s West 134th Street. It was home to the city’s African American movers and shakers, and had been for most of its nearly two hundred year old existence. The Church’s history read like a history book, as it had bore witness to most of the nation’s great events. It even had plenty of history of its own.

  The current building had been constructed in 1910, and had been designed by the first African American licensed as an architect in the State of New York. The building had been designated as a New York City designated landmark, and during the 1950’s, was home to the largest Christian congregation in the United States. Such proud history is what kept the church so prominent in the eyes of the east coast’s wealthy African American community. It’s what kept the church’s membership swollen, and what kept its coffers full. It’s also what kept the wealthy Westchester crowd driving into the city for Sunday service; including the Neels.

  “Glad you could make it this Sunday, darling,” Marjorie Neel told her daughter.

  Kimberly exhaled forcibly, and plopped down on the pew next to her mother. “Mom, don’t start.”

  “Why, were you out late last night sinning, in that big giant nest of sin you call the city?” Marjorie asked.

  Kimberly leaned forward, peering around her mother. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hi, baby,” Thornton Neel greeted his daughter. “Good to see you. You look really pretty today.”

  “Thanks, Daddy,” Kim smiled. She could always count on her father to make her feel good.

  Marjorie struck her husband with her church fan. “She does not look good, she looks tired. Tired, and thin, and exhausted from that dead end job of hers.”

  “Mother, we’re in church,” Kim whispered. “Can we not have this discussion right now?”

  “Church is the best place to discuss that sinful place you live in,” Marjorie continued. “Who ever heard of living in Times Square?”

  “Marjorie…” Thornton said, trying to hush his wife.

  “Really,” Marjorie pressed on. “She should move back to Purchase.”

  “I can’t move back in with you,” Kimberly whispered.

  “Not with us. You can get your own place.”

  “And have to commute for thirty minutes to an hour twice a day? No thank you.”

  “You always were a stubborn child,” Marjorie huffed. “Now I see why John left you.”

  “John didn’t leave me, Mother,” Kim said sternly. “I left him.”

  “Another bad decision,” Marjorie countered. “He’s getting married, did you know that?”

  “Yes, I know it,” Kim whispered. “And good for him.”

  “That could have been you walking down that aisle,” Marjorie told her. “You could have been the wife of a doctor.”

  “What makes you think that I want to be a doctor’s wife?” Kimberly asked. “Or anybody’s wife for that matter? Mother, it’s the twenty first century.”

  Marjorie gasped. She turned toward her husband. “Did you hear that, Thornton? Did you? This is what happens when you send your children off the National Cathedral School in D.C. to be educated. They come back as liberal lesbians.”

  Kimberly gasped. “Mother! I am not a lesbian,” she said under her breath.

  “What is wrong with marriage?” Marjorie asked. “Marriage to a good and descent man like John?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with marriage to a good and descent man, I just have to find one first. John isn’t it.”

  “You know, your sister wouldn’t have thrown him away like that. She knows what to do with a doctor.”

  “I’m sure she does,” Kim said sarcastically.

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Marjorie asked. “Your sister and her fiancée, Dr. Giddings, are very happy. He may only be an OB-GYN, but at least that’s something. He’ll have his own practice one day, and they’ll be very comfortable.”

  “And I’m happy for them,” Kim whispered. “But what’s good for her, isn’t necessarily good for me.�
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  “You difficult difficult child you!” Marjorie said.

  “I’m an adult now, Mom.”

  “Adults make adult decisions. They don’t walk away from good relationships at the first sign of a little trouble.”

  “They broke my windows out of the Porsche you and Daddy bought me!” Kimberly said under her breath. “Another one of his ex’s, spray painted my car, while another one keyed my door! I had to deal with the phone calls, the death threats, and all the other drama.”

  Marjorie exhaled and waved her hand, dismissing her daughter. “Come, it’s almost time for the choir. Let’s go and put on our choir robes. You do still sing for the Lord, don’t you?”

  “Of course, Mother,” Kim said rising, and following her mother back into the choir room.

  *****

  The Visionaire was unlike any other apartment building in the world. The massive mirror glass structure had been designed by none other than world renowned architect Rafael Pelli. Not only was the design of the wedge shape building breathtaking to behold, but the building’s surroundings were equally impressive. Nestled on the tip of Battery Park City, the building held a commanding view of neighboring Battery Park, the Hudson River, the Manhattan skyline, and The Statue of Liberty. Those lucky enough to live in the building were gifted with some of the most incredible views the city had to offer.

  The Visionaire’s lobby greeted visitors with massive stone columns, and a giant twelve foot aquarium filled with exotic tropical fish. A lounge just off of the lobby, provided guest with a pool table, a massive plasma T.V., a giant natural gas fireplace, and even a separate movie screening room.

  Resident’s were spoiled with a sky lit indoor swimming pool and hot tub that looked out onto one of two roof gardens, while work out buffs could pass the time away in the fitness center, which was filled with state of the art cardio and weight equipment. The world class fitness center also boasted of a spa, a sauna, a steam room, a massage room, a yoga room, and an aerobics room. And for those who wanted to relax on a more leisurely scale, the building’s rooftop garden held a view of the Hudson River. This rooftop paradise also came equipped with an outdoor events area, with built in grills and individual cabanas in case the residents wanted to do a little entertaining.

  As stunning as the building itself was, the apartments were even more breathtaking. Bamboo floors greeted the guest upon entry, and continued into the kitchen where they were joined by beautifully crafted bamboo cabinets and black granite counter tops. The bamboo floors stopped only at the bathrooms, where limestone floors took their place. The luxurious affairs that were the bathrooms, boasted of teak cabinetry, marble jetted tubs, and hand crafted marble vanities. To live in the Visionaire is to have made it big time. Or, to have been born with rich parents.

  “Brittany, I love your apartment!” Mia screamed once again. She peered out of the massive floor to ceiling windows, taking in the views of the Hudson and the lights beyond. “This view is breathtaking!”

  “Yeah, except when it’s lightening,” Brittany told her.

  “Brit, you’re still scared of lightening?” Mia said shocked. “I thought that you were over that?”

  “How?” Brittany asked, turning up her palms. “It’s a phobia. It’s called Astraphobia. I’ll never get over it.”

  “People get over their phobias all the time,” Mia said.

  “Duh, the reason it’s called a phobia, is because it’s an irrational fear,” Brittany said slurring.

  She and Mia broke into alcohol induced laughter.

  “You guys, this is supposed to be about me!” Kim said, slurring her words.

  Brittany climbed onto her crème colored leather sectional with Kim, and pulled her close. “I’m sorry. It is about you.”

  Mia joined them.

  “I had to put up with an entire Sunday service of nothing but nagging from my mother,” Kim told them. “Marriage, marriage, marriage, nothing but marriage. I should have married John. That could have been me walking down the aisle. Your sister is so happy. Your job really sucks. You know what, Mom? You’re right, my job does suck!”

  “That’s right, just let it all out!” Mia told her.

  “Why do people feel you have to be married to be happy?” Kimberly asked.

  “I get it from my mom all the time,” Brittany told her.

  “I don’t,” Mia smiled. “My mom would have a heart attack if I told her that I was going to marry Shaun.”

  “Why?” Brittany asked. “Shaun’s cool. He’s a great guy, nice looking, great job, and he treats you like a princess.”

  “Guys, my parents are from a different era,” Mia said, wiping away a tear. “They like Shaun, but not the fact that he’s Black.”

  “Wow!” Brittany gasped, and reached for her drink.

  “Parents!” Kim shouted. “Why come they won’t just let us live our lives!”

  “Here, here!” Brittany said, lifting her glass in toast.

  The girls held up their glasses and clinked them together.

  “John, John, John! I’m so tired of hearing about John!” Kim shouted. “She thinks that John was all that! Well, he wasn’t! He was a cheat, and he was weak, and he let those women dominate him!”

  “A cheat?” Mia asked, lifting an eyebrow. “You think he cheated on you?”

  “I know he did!” Kim told them. “All of those late night phone calls, and him creeping off in the middle of the night. Besides that, why would all his ex’s still be so hung up on him? He had to be telling them something, or giving them some reason to think that he was still going to be with them.”

  “Wow!” Brittany said, taking another massive drink from her glass.

  “I just want to move on with my life,” Kim sniffled. A tear rolled down her cheek. “Why won’t my mother let me? Why won’t life let me move on? I just want to be happy, what’s wrong with that? I go to church, I pay my tides, I sing in the choir, I don’t cheat, or steal, or kill, or hurt people. I don’t want a lot of money. I just always dreamed, since I was a little girl, of finding that perfect prince just for me.”

  Mia and Brittany both nodded. They knew of those dreams too.

  “All teenage girls dream of that,” Mia told her.

  “Am I destined to be alone?” Kimberly asked. “If I am, I may as well get started collecting my pet cats right now.”

  “No, of course not,” Brittany told her. “The right guy will come along. He’ll show up when you least expect it, and he’ll whisk you off into that magic land of happy endings.”

  “Another damn love story,” Kim moaned, and rested her head on the sofa pillow. “I hope so, because I don’t even like cats.”

  Mia and Brittany laughed.

  Mia rubbed Kim’s back. “It’s going to be okay, Kim. You’ll see.”

  “What happened to sexy Mr. Elevator Man?” Brittany asked. “I thought you two hit it off in The Hamptons.”

  “Sterling?” Kim asked, lifting her head from the pillow. “I don’t know. He scares me.”

  “Love is a scary thing,” Mia told her. “You have to stick your heart out there, and risk getting it hurt in order to find your happy ending.”

  Kim lowered her head once again. A happy ending. Could Mr. Vespasian be Mr. Perfect Love Story? She had just met him, and they had shared one little kiss. That didn’t mean that he was her destiny. Besides, she didn’t even know what he did for a living. He worked for Vespasian, and probably as an executive in men’s fashions. But… there were just too many variables. He was nice, and nice looking. He seemed like a gentleman. He was well groomed, nice job, great sense of humor. But the million dollar question was how did he feel about her? Was she jumping the gun here? Why was she even thinking about him right now? She should be thinking about her happily ever after man, not Sterling Williams. He certainly was not Mr. Happily Ever After. Was he?

  Chapter Ten

  Amaniko Somari was a fashion legend. Her name was a household name, one that reminded everyone of the g
lory years of fashion. She conjured images of Halston, Lagerfeld, Hermes, and Chanel. She had been a model for each of them, plus a number of other A-List designers. Discovered in Ethiopia in the Sixties, she had been airlifted out of a refugee camp with a large number of Falasha Jews. An orphan, she was taken to Israel, and adopted by a French Jewish family where she was relocated to Paris. It was on the streets of Paris where the thirteen year old with the copper colored skin, pale blue eyes, and long, silky, sandy colored hair was discovered. She was an exotic, among exotics. Her thin, lanky frame, awkward stand, and Mona Lisa smile, soon had her splashed across every fashion magazine in the world. And yes, she even made the cover of the French Vogue.

  Amaniko modeled for more than thirty years, and along the way she amassed a fortune. First came her cosmetic line for women of color, then her very own modeling agency, and finally, her fashion house. Amaniko quickly became a fashion powerhouse, because rich White women loved her. Her designs reminded consumers of the age of Jackie Kennedy. Lime Green Hermes Kelly Bags, Louis Vuitton scarves tied around their heads, while sun bathing on the decks of a yacht. These were the looks that the Scarsdale crowd loved. Her designs were timeless, classic, elegant; they spoke of a gilded age, an age where America could do anything. An age where America could send a man to the moon, save an entire city from starvation by means of an airlift, and shake the conscious of an entire planet by way of a non violent civil rights movement. Amaniko’s designs represented the best of America, and reminded people of all that was right with America. She and her clothing designs were both fashion icons.

  Kimberly couldn’t believe that Amaniko herself had agreed to meet with her. Of course it took a call from her father to one of his best friends, who in turn called a cousin, who was Amaniko’s publicist. This fortunate meeting was taking place at Ms. Emma’s. The ambiance just seemed right.

  “Thank you for meeting with me, Ms. Somari,” Kim said, rising as the legendary designer approached the table. The two of them exchanged handshakes, and Amaniko seated herself.