by Vera Roberts
Soul showed me nothing but love and respect the time I stayed with him. I could only imagine how the treatment would’ve been if things progressed further. “I need to go to bed, Soul.”
“Good night, baby.” He blows me a kiss and I lightly sigh at the simple yet potent affection.
“Good night,” I pause for a moment before I speak again, “Soul?”
“Yeah, baby?”
I know I’m playing with fire with this next request and I know he’ll know it, too. But if I’m going to pursue this man, I need to have some say on what goes on. “If you’re going to surprise me again, I don’t want an international audience to see it.”
It was the answer Soul’d been looking for and his smile reflects that. “They didn’t today.”
I don’t understand what he says until it hits me. “You pulled the fire alarm, didn’t you?”
He smiles again and a low vibration buzzes through me, down to my core. “Does it matter?”
I ponder the question. Clearly, it really doesn’t. He protected me when he knew what I was up against. I don’t think I will ever figure out that man. “Thank you.”
“I’ll do anything for you, Ari.” He lets out a small sigh. “Anything. Once you learn how to play the rules of the game, you know to play them better than anyone else. You can predict the media, the paparazzi, and even your haters. The media’s job is simply to report; they don’t care about facts. The paparazzi’s job is to get the first picture; they don’t care about feelings.”
“And haters?” I ask him. “Why I should care about those who don’t like me?”
“Your haters will watch every move you do. They won’t celebrate your success, but they are sure to say something when you do anything they don’t like. Your fans will love everything you do, even the stuff that’s crap because they know you tried. Your haters, however, will hate that you exist.” Soul pauses briefly. “Those are the ones who will ultimately drive you to be the most successful.”
As I say a final goodbye to him and put my phone away for the night, I wonder what I’m getting my self into. The Ellisons are not the typical rich family with a few connections. They’re a powerful dynasty, a force to be reckoned with, and anyone who has ever crossed them ended up regretting it after the fact.
I just hope I survive.
Chapter Six
The next morning, I discover I’m no longer the trending topic though a lot of people are curiously following me and leaving comments on my page now. I don’t even bother to look at any of them. I quickly head to the shower before I pick out my outfit of the day.
As I stand in my walk-in closet, I need to pick out an outfit that’s clearly not from Soul’s line. I go for some jeans and a long-sleeve top that cuts off before my midriff. Pairing it along with some hoops and few splashes of Sweet Nectar, Soul’s new fragrance that just debuted.
The perfume is sweet, smoky, citrusy, with notes of floral. Every woman who’s tried it on has a different way of describing it. We all can agree on one thing – it smells wonderful.
It’s not surprise to me the indescribable perfume is just like Soul himself – it makes you feel good, yet you can’t really describe the how or what it does to you. You just know you want more of that feeling and you’re willing to do whatever you can to get it.
After beating my face with the best 5150 makeup a girl could buy, I head out. I quickly grab a Lyft and scroll through the latest gossip on the blogs and pages.
Of course, I’m still a trending topic, though people are now talking about other mundane things like what a Kardashian did and some other Internet famous person I don’t know about.
As the driver carefully weaves in and out of crazy L.A. traffic, my mind wanders to Soul. I wonder how he’s doing, what he’s doing, and if my heart can bear it, who he’s with. Is he on social media watching everything unfold? Or is he going about his life like nothing ever happened?
I shake the thoughts out of my head as I enter the SHE studios, quickly making my way through security and head straight to the Sista Gal studio for the taping. As standard, I stop by the crafts tables to grab everything I will regret later at the gym, and go to my glam squad.
“Well, well, well...” Sherry greets me as Derrick gets out of his chair. I can tell by the smug look on their faces they’ve spent most of the morning gossiping about yours truly. I wish I could say I didn’t care, but I do. “...and how are you, Ms. Ari?”
“I’m doing well.” It’s not a lie.
“Good, good.” Derrick drapes a smock over my neck and stares into my eyes through the mirror. “And how’s Mr. Soul?”
I’m trying to fight the smile that’s threatening to come out, but a little bit seeps through. Not enough to cause a ruckus, but it’s clear I’m hiding something. “I guess he’s doing okay.”
“You don’t have to play deaf, dumb, and mute with us, baby girl.” Sherry chimes in, “I know your boo-thang is on that high-level Secret Service shit and you can’t say too much.”
“He doesn’t have Secret Service.” I blurt out. I don’t know that for a fact. I know he has high-level security around him just because of who his family is. I’m sure Soul has been a target more than a few times.
“Oh, you so know enough about his security detail,” Derrick mentions, “I see, I see.”
“I’m assuming,” I clarify. “I don’t know if Secret Service covers family members of politicians.”
“Oh, I’m sure if Soul were to ask for Secret Service to provide protection for him and his boo thang, they’ll listen.” Sherry smiles at me and I roll my eyes.
“We’re not dating,” I state for hopefully the last time. “I don’t even know if we’re friends. We’re cool, though.”
Derek looks behinds me and his eyes widen. “Oh, you’re more than cool.”
I turn around and see a delivery of a two-dozen roses. “Ariana Woodward?” The deliveryman asks me and I nod. “These are for you.”
I motion him to sit them down at a nearby space on the shelf. I pick up the card and read it, well aware I’m clearly blushing.
You said pink roses were your favorite, right?
The Name of the Train Don Cornelius drove.
“The name of a train Don Cornelius drove?” Sherry reads over my shoulder and I close the note to my chest. “I don’t get it.”
“It’s from Soul,” Derek figures it out. “I guess boo thang didn’t realize black people who lived in the seventies and can remember Soul Train would get that riddle!”
I giggle and shake my head. I’m not sure what’s going on between me and Soul nor do I understand what games he’s playing. All I know is that my heart is doing flip-flops and I can’t wipe this cheesy grin off my face.
The show taping went by super quick and I’m headed back to my dressing room. No one bothered to mention my association with Soul since other celebrity news took precedence. I’m grateful for the interruption. While Soul has successfully maneuvered into being in the public eye, I’m still getting used to it.
He was born into a life of privilege and all he’s ever known was how to conduct himself in public. There were never any stories about any of the Ellison brothers – Ocean, Soul, and Savior – being involved in any type of mischief.
Not to say the men didn’t get it in whenever they could. There have been whispers of all of them prior to settling down had different hoes in many area codes. I stop and think about what I just about. Does that still apply to Soul?
Ever since the sexual harassment allegations some years ago (and an article I had to print a retraction on), Soul has laid low. While he has been seen with this celebrity and that celebrity, he has maintained a rather low profile.
Instead, his fashion does the talking. Every red carpet has someone sporting something from his line. His newest partnership with Louis Vuitton revived the iconic brand upon debut and the pre-orders for Sweet Nectar have already sold out.
Which leads back to me.
Soul deliberately
chose my face to debut his line, though he could’ve used any model. I know particular Soul is about his fashion and if a model’s hair is out of place, he’ll take issue with it.
The pictures are from when he singlehandedly gave me a makeover. He didn’t want to remake me in an image he was comfortable with, but rather what brought out the best within me. He wanted everyone to see the real me, flaws and all.
I thank him every day for that.
“Ariana? Earth to Ariana?” Derek snaps his fingers in front of me. “Where did you go?”
I shake my head of Soul and sigh. Even when he’s not physically with me, I still feel him surrounding my entire being. “I’m here. Just thinking.”
“Thinking about how you gonna put it on That Show Don Cornelius Hosted?” Sherry laughs.
I laugh at the corny joke but that’s who Soul is. Just when I think I figured him out, he surprises me. “I don’t know what to do. I think I have an idea but really, I don’t.”
“Go with the flow,” Sherry suggests, “and just take it as it goes.”
“He’s an Ellison,” I cautiously reply, “this is a different level of celebrity and prestige. Old money we’re talking.”
“Then enjoy that old money, girl.” Derek laughs. “You have a once in a lifetime opportunity to be up there with all of those old money families. Go getcha you a piece.”
“But be careful,” Sherry’s voice is full of reason, “you’re not just messing with old money. You’re getting yourself involved with an Ellison. These people are not to be played with and there are rumors they’re behind a few disappearances and cover-ups. If you mess up, the family will protect Soul before they’ll cover you. Remember that.”
Chapter Seven
After taping wrapped up, I quickly leave the studio with my roses in tow. Not many people question who gave them to me and just congratulated me with a few ‘Lucky girl!’ comments. I quickly get into my Uber and head back home. I’m beat and I just need to recoup.
Sherry’s words haunt me.
It’s part of my hesitation of getting with Soul. I know what his family is about. Old money silences all emotions. Thin, stiff upper lips and brave fronts is what the family is about. They’ve built their history in the Civil Rights Movement and feminist movements of the 70’s and 80’s.
They’re beyond old money; they’re royalty. Every major event, they’re invited to, even if they don’t attend. They are members of various boards and have an estimated net worth of close to a hundred billion dollars.
It’s been rumored Starr came from a long line of old money and so did Thomas. Their union was more for political grandstanding as it was to build some sort of conglomerate between the families. Even their distractors have to give them props.
I sigh as I think about Starr. From being a hippie child to being at the front of the feminist movement in all forms, she has personified dignity and grace. She’s pearl necklaces, diamond earrings, and Chanel suits.
Thomas Ellison is the strong but definitely not silent type. He’a always done the right thing even when it wasn’t popular. He’s also a polarizing figure, yet still commands respect. He’s serious, sarcastic, and full of Giorgio Armani suits.
Ocean Ellison is the guy every girl would love to take home and show off to her parents and girlfriends. He’s often compared to Thomas, though it’s still a question if that’s a compliment. A doctor and a Senator, Ocean is woke, beautiful, and full of snark.
Savior Ellison is the youngest and quietest in his activism. He fights for the little man and has a reputation of winning without saying anything. A very successful lawyer in his own right, Savior rules Los Angeles and has made a name for himself without his father’s help. He is determination, wit, and character.
Finally, there’s Soul. He’s the middle child and by all accounts, the wild one. He bucks almost any tradition instilled by his parents and created his own path. Forbes magazine recently crowned him a billionaire on his own, not counting family money. He’s charming, cultured, and delicious.
My body hums as I say the last word again. Delicious.
I’ve never described any man to be delicious or tasty in any way and I damn sure never described Jared to be that. Soul brings out something sinful and wicked within me. If I don’t have a piece of him, my body convulses.
Arriving home a short time later, I get out of the Uber and find Jared on the brownstone footstep. Not sure why he’s here or what brought this special occasion. All I know this is the first time I’ve seen ol’ boy in two weeks with no texts or phone calls.
Not that I’ve been making any. The last two days have been nothing but Soul on my mind and he’s taken up all of the occupied space in my heart and mind. Jared has been an afterthought, if that.
“Hey baby girl,” he stands up and greets me with arms wide open. He didn’t even bother to help me with my huge vase of flowers but that’s expected. If fuckboy was ever a definition, Jared’s face would be the example.
I lightly sigh as I manage to walk past him and into the building, with him hot on my tail. I struggle to open the front door but manage to do so and Jared lets himself in. I put away the flowers on the kitchen counter while Jared makes himself at home on the sofa.
I quickly go into my bedroom to change out of my show outfit and into my leggings and half-tank top. I quickly wash my face of all of Sherry’s fabulous work and remove the large hoop earrings in my ears.
I’m at home. I’m at peace. And I still have to deal with Jared.
Walking back out to the living room, I sit across from him as he’s doing something on his phone. Playing a game? Texting to another one of his side pieces? Making arrangements with his boys? I’m not sure if I truly care.
Jared is just under six feet tall, and is all muscle. His dirty blond hair is in numerous locks and his blue eyes sparkle just right. He’s perfected AAVE like it was a second language and has a rather impressive memory of all things hip-hop.
He wasn’t born that way. His parents are teachers and well-respected in their community. His father is an assistant pastor while his mother volunteers with the homeless. He has an older brother and younger sister, who have done well.
Jared is also one of the fakest people in all of America. He’s the quintessential white liberal: he claims to hate injustice and racism and loves to put conservative people in their place, but if you’re black person, you need to be careful how you express your anger when faced with said injustice and racism.
He was my first boyfriend, my first everything, and I was planning to marry him two years ago. That was until I went to his apartment and found my former best friend fucking him. I hate Jared broke my heart but I’m grateful for it. The same night I met Soul and lived with him for a month.
I saw Jared through rose-colored glasses and even his faults through the dirty lenses. They were impossible to ignore. Yet, I hoped I was the one who would change him, like so many foolish women think when they’re caught up with a guy who is beneath their level.
Whew, chile. The stupid.
I hoped it was a phase and when I looked back at my early years, I could say how rough we had it in the beginning but it all worked out because I was the ride and die, I was the down chick, I was the soldier who stood by him while all of the others faded away.
It became clearer to me as time progressed I was playing myself. If we got married, we wouldn’t have stayed married. At some point, I would’ve had enough. At some point, Jared would’ve left before I changed the locks and the phone number.
At some point, I keep thinking, I would’ve regretted not being with Soul when the opportunity presented itself.
That’s what sucks about being in a relationship that’s ran its course. It’s feeling someone slowly lose interest in you. They don’t ask how your day was or how you’re doing. They don’t show much interest in the conversation.
It’s like they’re slowly backing out of your life and there’s nothing you can do about it but keep smiling and prete
nd you don’t notice. The harder you try, the more desperate and dangerous the situation becomes.
As I study my long overdue manicure, I wonder why is this boy in my home and wasting my time. He wants something and I’m curious if it’s money, ass, or some sort of ridiculous favor.
“Why did you take off your makeup and all? You looked nice.” He finally addresses me after I’ve been in the room with him for ten minutes.
The wind is softly blowing outside and my mind casually wanders what Soul is doing, and if he’s still in Los Angeles. I wonder how fast he’ll get here if I told him Jared followed me inside. “I’m home now, J. I like to relax.”
“You could’ve kept the makeup on,” he shrugged, “Susan did a good job.”
“Sherry,” I correct him and wonder why I did that much. He’s met Sherry and has been to the set numerous times. He’s not that interested in my life.
“Oh yeah, her.” Jared nods. He finally tucks the phone into his jeans. “So, what’s up?”
He talks to me like if I’m one of his homies and not his forever on/off girlfriend. Truthfully, he’s always been like this and I don’t know why I thought it was charming and sweet. Young, dumb, and full of come I was. “Nothing. Why are you here?”
“I just wanted to see you, man.” He says in a rather defensive mode. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Okay, so I’m here,” I reply in the nicest way I possibly can. “What is it, honey?”
Jared flashes that great smile of his. I know he wants something. He has yet to ask about the flowers because he doesn’t care who gave them to me. “Why are you sitting all the way over there for?”
“Because I’m comfortable, now what is it?” I ask. I need to get home out before Desiree comes home. All hell will break loose.
Jared sighs and looks up at the ceiling. He’s coming up with a lie. “I need to ask a huge favor from you...” He pauses for dramatic effect. I quietly sigh in response. “...I need to borrow some money from you. I’m in between jobs right now and I just need something to hold me over for the next few days.”
