North Star

by Angeline M. Bishop

  “Sound like a miracle,” Marina said, when Laila stole a shrimp from her appetizer.

  “Let’s face the facts. Malcolm pulled the rug right out from under me. He gave me no warning, just a condo that reeked of dead fish. But I swallowed the pain, planned this vacation, and even helped my new sister-in-law, Caresse, with her wedding. I put on the face of normalcy for seven months and now I’m going to get my sexy back.”

  “You go, girl!” Marina cheered as she raised her glass in sympathetic acknowledgement before taking a long sip of wine.

  Laila nodded her appreciation and continued. “Girlfriends, it’ll be a cold day in hell before that dog gets a whiff of these panties again. I’m putting the whole situation behind me.”

  “I guess I feel the same way about Sean,” Sofìa said, toying with a tendril of auburn hair that flowed from her center part.

  “I say the hell with them!” Laila snapped. “They were lucky to have us for the time they did ‘cause we were the best thing to ever crossed their paths.” Laila lifted her glass and raised herself up on one elbow. “Let’s make a toast. Do the honors, Sofìa.”

  Sofìa’s lips parted in surprise as she raised her glass along with Marina. “To the ultimate femencation; a time to enjoy luxury, sisterhood, and feminine power. To the ladies.”

  “To the ladies!” Laila and Marina repeated and drank a sip of wine moments before their waiter set their dinner before them.

  “I’m surprised you’re here today, Laila. We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow morning. What happened? Did the wedding get canceled, or did they elope?” Marina asked before taking a bite of her herb-encrusted salmon.

  “It was nothing like that. Graham and Caresse were married early this afternoon and I’m sure they’ll be celebrating with their guests until late tonight. They weren’t happy about me cutting out of there after their vows but my mind wasn’t in the right place to help them celebrate.”

  “The wedding made you think of Malcolm?” Sofìa peered at her intensely.

  Raising finely arched eyebrows, Laila exclaimed, “I’m happy for my big brother and his bride. They truly deserve each other. It’s just that not too long ago I was under the impression that Malcolm and I would be married by now, so their wedding was bittersweet at best.”

  Sofìa grabbed Laila’s hand as Marina looked at her empathically. The mention of her own desire for marriage had hit a raw nerve that caused her face to get flushed and her throat to tighten. The pain of Malcolm’s betrayal was like a throbbing, raw nerve in need of Novocain.

  Laila could feel the tears beginning to pool in her eyes so she quickly blinked them away. “I’m fine, guys, really. It’s the past and there’s no need to bring it up now, right?”

  “Right, but if you need to talk about it, we’re here, La La,” Sofìa stated as she gave her a tissue from her purse. “I know better than anyone how it feels to be betrayed. Never in a million years did I think Sean could disrespect our marriage by cheating on me, but he did. Like your situation, he didn’t apologize or even face me. He just avoided me and forced me to deal with him through my lawyer.”

  “Maybe he thought his good guy, celebrity image wouldn’t be tainted if he kept his distance,” Marina injected, the moment Sofìa smoothed a few of Laila’s ebony tresses behind her ear. “Who knows how the media would react if they found out one of Chicago’s sexiest men was divorcing because of his indiscretions.”

  “I don’t care about the media’s perception of him. He owes his wife an explanation. That’s the most humane thing to do,” Sofìa snapped. She’d missed the questioning gaze that passed between her friends.

  Laila composed herself and squared her shoulders. “Don’t hold your breath. If he hasn’t given you a reason in eight months, he’s not going to give you one now,” she stated firmly before she took a bite of the lobster Marina had ordered for her. “Didn’t you have a prenuptial agreement?”

  “Yeah, and the divorce should be finalized in a few weeks because of the adultery clause.”

  “You had an adultery cause?” Marina gasped and quickly took a sip of her water. “How did you get him to agree to that?”

  Sofìa took one hand to shield her mouth from view since she was chewing her meal. “It wasn’t that hard because I had to agree to abide by it, too. All it stated was the party that is proved to have committed adultery forfeits all rights to the marital residence and its furnishing and must vacant the property immediately upon the filing of a divorce petition by the other party.”

  “Wow, that’s the legal equivalency of tossing his clothes out onto the lawn and changing the locks.” Laila watched Sofìa play with her seafood pasta. “He didn’t put up a fight about leaving?”

  “I never asked him to leave. Once I learned about his affair, I returned home to confront him. Then I discovered he had removed all of his clothing and sports paraphernalia from our home. I guess someone tipped him off.”

  “What about the money?” Marina inquired, her brilliant black-button eyes fixed on Sofìa. “Did he clean you out?”

  “No, we have a ‘spiteful act’ penalty clause in our agreement that doesn’t allow either party to close or move accounts until the finalization of the divorce. Besides, Sean and I never shared bank accounts. He had his, I had mine, and the household accounts were paid from a third account we both put money into.”

  Laila began to reach for a dinner roll when thoughts of being in a bathing suit stopped her cold. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m taking each day as it comes and I’m only dealing with him when my lawyer requires it. As you can see, there was nothing merry about last year’s Christmas for me.”

  “Me, either,” she replied. “But this is the beginning of a new year, so we’re going to start it right.”

  “That’s right!” Marina beamed. “First, we enjoy this time together as girlfriends, then you two can help me start my married life with David.”

  A low moan escaped Sofìa’s lips as Laila watched her leer at Marina.

  “What’s going on?” Laila asked when she noticed Sofìa’s aggravated expression.

  “Sofìa is mad that I won’t make David sign a prenuptial agreement. But I told her those things are for rich people.”

  “No, it’s for smart people,” Sofìa corrected her. “Laila, didn’t you tell me Graham and Caresse have one?”

  “Yup. He didn’t want to, but since Caresse had been through one long, drawn-out divorce already, they wanted to make sure if something happened, they’d both be protected from any vengeful acts.”

  As the conversation continued, Laila relaxed as her New Jersey responsibilities drifted from her mind. Being with Sofìa and Marina brought back the warmer memories of their college days when the world was filled with promise. Ten years ago, the three of them had strolled across the University of Florida podium and said goodbye to the college life they’d shared together. Promises of emails, frequent visits, and phone calls lessened the distance as the years molded their lives in different parts of the country. Each year they made a point to reconnect their group to strengthen their bond and dedication to each other, and this year would be no different. There may be a few hearts to heal but nothing mends the spirit like a deep and abiding friendship.

  Malcolm Khalid was stirred from slumber by a sudden weight thrown over his back. As his mind reeled, he opened his eyes, and tried to focus on the clock on his nightstand. 3 AM. He cast his eyes at the dimly lit candles on the far side of the room and noticed the soft music pouring from the CD console beyond his desk lamp. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the weight on his back was a body part of his latest companion.

  He lifted his body slowly to sit up and felt her arm drift from his shoulders. A hesitant glance in her direction revealed the woman he’d been dancing with in a Jersey City nightclub a few hours before.

  He’d become aware of her the moment she’d sauntered through the door. She had a cockiness that screamed, ‘I’m here to party’ and he
had every intention in helping her do that. From what he remembered, she had an average face but it was the way she moved her body that did a number on him. He was sold the moment they stepped on the dance floor. It was just too bad he was now having buyer’s regret.

  Malcolm leaned over to have a better look at her when she rolled over onto her back and exhaled deeply. The heavy scent of alcohol and bad breath drifted to his nostrils and reminded him of the shots of tequila she doubled back during their initial conversation.

  Just what I need, Malcolm thought as he rose from the bed and went over to blow out the candles. An aging member of Girls Gone Wild. He wasn’t bothered by her intoxicated state. No, it was the fact that they’d fallen asleep at his place. The last thing he wanted was his nosey roommate noticing her tomorrow morning.

  He reached for this cell phone and called a cab in hushed tones. An act he’d done more times than he cared to remember. Then he flicked on the bright, overhead bedroom light to wake the sienna-skinned, excessively made-up, burgundy-coiffed party girl currently drooling on one of his pillows.

  “Rise and shine. Party’s over.”

  “What-what the hell is your problem?” She groaned as she covered her eyes.

  “No problem, just time for you to get up and leave.”

  “What’s wrong? Your lady’s about to come home?”

  “I don’t have a lady.”

  “Then turn the light off and leave me alone. I promise we’ll go another round in a few hours.”

  “No can do. I have work in the morning so you have to go.”

  “You’re a writer who works from home. Save it!” She spat out the words condescendingly.

  “Listen, it was fun but I’m a guy that likes to sleep alone.”

  “Then head for the couch, Einstein, and let a lady sleep.”

  Annoyed, he countered, “If I saw a lady, I would.”

  Suddenly wide awake, the disheveled woman sat up, sneered, then said, “You have the nerve to—”

  ‘Yes, yes, I have, so do me a favor, save your insults on the way to the cab outside.”

  The woman swung her legs over the side of the bed and tossed the sheet away from her body with masculine aggression. The sight of her lack of feminine modesty caused Malcolm to shake his head and frown.

  “I don’t have money for a cab,” she whined. “You brought me here, so you can take me home.”

  “In what lifetime? I don’t know where you live and I don’t want to know. Just take this to cover your cab cost.”

  She grabbed the money he tossed on the bed. “A ten? Listen here, playa, if you aren’t taking me home, the least you could do is give me twenty bones. What do you think I am?”

  Malcolm watched her dress and extended another ten-dollar bill. “Can I have a doubt with such a rate demand?”

  She glared at him and snatched the next bill that hit the bed. She gathered her purse and heels from the floor as she stomped out of his bedroom toward the front door. “Your oral wasn’t all that anyway.”

  Malcolm leaned over the arm rail of living room stairwell to watch her exit the apartment. “Yeah, right, that really explains why you were sighing, moaning, and reaching for stuff that wasn’t even there.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I was trying to find something to knock you in the head so you’d stop. For future reference, not all women want the techniques learned from porn.” She slammed his front door behind her after cursing.

  Malcolm raced down the stairs and peered out from the living room window. A sense of relief washed over him the moment he watched her cab drive out of sight.

  That just made my highlight reel, he thought as he strode to the front door to secure it before his shower. Getting told off by Ugly Betty’s distant cousin Bonifia. He shook his head as he headed back upstairs, remembering how she’d distorted her face before asking for more money. It was a new low. He was trolling the clubs for women like a desperate Lothario. This wasn’t what he’d planned. His ex-girlfriend Laila was supposed to be blowing up his phones and emails with messages after he’d ended their relationship but instead she’d just moved on like their relationship hadn’t happened.

  And, to add salt to the wound, he’d seen her in the arms of some muscle man at the beach last year, a few days after he’d marched out. The sight of them made him madder than he cared to admit. He knew better than to think she wouldn’t have another man sniffing around the hem of her skirt. She was beautiful, funny, single, and when the right guy discovered her tight body, only a fool would walk away.

  A fool like him. It had been six months and yet it seemed like just yesterday when he’d discovered a ruined living room in her chic condominium. He hadn’t cared about the damage at the time. He’d just wanted out. Laila wanted marriage but she wasn’t supportive of getting more of his articles in Psyche magazine, a publication owned by her brother, Graham.

  Malcolm turned off the overhead light and cursed. He didn’t want to think about Graham. In one single email, he’d systematically halted his journalism career in the New Jersey, New York, and Pennsylvania tri-state area. He remembered the day one of the editors of New Jersey Monthly had laughed in his face as he tried to pitch his articles. He’d said he’d received an email months ago telling him to be wary of Malcolm Khalid.

  He should have known Laila would make her brother aware of their breakup and Graham would retaliate with both guns blazing. He hadn’t sold an article in six months and the little journalistic blurbs in the community papers were getting on his nerves.

  He moved over to his bed and removed the sheets from the mattress. The scent of his latest conquest lingered. A stench that reeked of loneliness and distraction. He tossed the sheets at his open closet door and lay down on the bare mattress.

  It wasn’t so long ago that he’d made love to Laila. He remembered the way she’d felt under his body. The soft, sweetness of her drove him crazy. She knew just how to let go with him. She’d put all that Psyche business far from her mind and was one hundred percent presence with him. In short, the sex had been good, damn good.

  If push came to shove, he knew she would come back to him if they only talked. He had to get her back.

  Gray took a deep sip of his coffee and studied his computer screen. He had been in the office since ten and had a new idea that would steer Psyche’s marketing program in a new, exhilarating direction. He glanced over his proposal and knew it was the start of a wonderful campaign, as long as Laila could get the vendor support he needed. He picked up the phone to get her take on his idea when a flash of Graham and Caresse came to mind. They’d told him that Laila had left their wedding reception early yesterday to catch a flight out of town.

  He groaned and replaced the phone back in its cradle. The lovely lady is enjoying some rest and relaxation.

  He leaned back in his leather executive chair and recalled the way Laila looked walking the wedding procession in her pale blue-gray bridesmaid gown. When she approached his aisle seat, she flashed him one of her sassy smiles and winked. Everyone knew it was Graham and Caresse’s show but Laila was determined to prove to everyone that being the bridesmaid, and not the bride, wasn’t a raw deal. She sure could give Kate Middleton’s sister, Pippa, a run for her money when it came to strolling down an aisle. Coming and going.

  Such a far cry from the night of Caresse’s bachelorette party, when Laila appeared on his doorstep drunk and upset that she wasn’t the one celebrating getting married.

  Ever the gentleman, he’d paid for the cab that had brought her over and listened to her anguish. He remembered vividly how she stood by his fireplace, dropped her LaFayette Chinchilla fur coat from her shoulders and asked, “Any man would love to have this in his bed, right?”

  He could appreciate how she had poured her sexy body into a cobalt blue Versace cocktail dress. It was hard to speak when Laila flaunted her figure in front of him because all he wanted to do was capture the sight of her and save it to memory. He remembered sitting there rubbing the five
o’clock shadow covering his chin, as his eyes poured over every inch of the fabric hugging her body.

  Noting no quick response from him, Laila had sauntered closer to him and asked, “Do you want to make a memory?”

  Tempting, forever tempting, Gray thought as he shook his head and returned to the present. He’d probably always regret not taking Laila to his bedroom and making her forget Malcolm had ever existed but he didn’t wanted her like that. He wanted her free from the grief of losing a man who didn’t appreciate her and not drunk on his doorstep.

  There was nothing he wanted to do to her that he didn’t intend for her to remember the next morning and every day after that. She was so used to being in control at work that it was refreshing to see her vulnerable side. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking of her in this manner; he was seven years her senior for Pete’s sake. But Graham had thrown them together on one too many projects so there was nothing left to do but give in to a few daydreams and fantasies.

  Gray glanced over at Graham’s old wedding invitation on top of his unsorted mail. He’d wanted to talk to Laila at the wedding yesterday. After listening to Jaiden’s best man speech he decided he was getting too old to not put his cards on the table with her. They had flirted more times than either would probably admit but he wanted more than ‘best friend’ status.

  The sudden ring of his cell phone jarred him from his thoughts. The display read, ‘Graham (cell)’ and sent off warning bells in his head. He answered quickly and prepared for the worse.

  “Gray? I just wanted to remind you that the final Byron Lars ad campaign meeting has been pushed back to the seventh of next month and I’ll need you to get your team ready for the presentation in three weeks.” Mr. Sheridan’s voice held depth and authority.

  “Sure. Not a problem. Isn’t that when you are due back from Hawaii?”