She was right in my face, lip pulled between her teeth, one hand planted – too high – on my thigh. And… I couldn’t and wouldn’t front; Sienna looked good as fuck, with her signature sandy-brown fro, big brown eyes, and that mouth… that I was quite familiar with. She had a body too, that she wasn’t shy about showing off. Right now she was in ultra-low-cut jeans and a crop top that left her lacy, see-through bra peeking out the bottom.
It was quite an appealing picture.
I didn’t have an opportunity to think further than that though because Logan came breezing through the door very suddenly, wearing a big smile about something until her gaze landed on us.
Her smile dropped immediately.
“Oh! Oh my goodness,” she said, turning away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had… um… company. Moving forward, I’ll knock and announce myself before coming in.”
“Logan, I—”
“All the contracts are handled,” she kept on, like I hadn’t spoken, “Everybody is confirmed, signed, all that.”
“Oh, you have an assistant? Cute,” Sienna giggled, somehow getting even closer. “I should’ve known. She’s sexy. If you’re into that body type.”
That made Logan turn around.
“You think you can make us some lunch reservations?” Sienna kept fucking talking, and I… didn’t even know how to stop what was bound to be a misunderstanding happening right before my eyes.
Well… what could’ve been.
Logan smiled though. “Of course? How about Beauchamp’s?”
Sienna looked at me. “The food any good?”
“I… yeah,” I nodded.
“Okay cool,” Sienna giggled. “If they’ve got good food and a good bar, I say let’s do it. Set that up,” she told Logan.
“Wonderful,” Logan agreed, with a tight smile before she shifted her gaze to me. “I’ll get that set up and forward the details to your email, and then I’m actually heading out for lunch myself, per my schedule I sent you earlier in the week. You and I can get together later today or tomorrow to go over the marketing plan I’ve been working on, but you should be aware that I managed to secure a small piece in Sugar&Spice, with Rashad Martin doing the photography. If we want to take that option, they’ll need an answer very soon, so they can squeeze us into the next issue. Think on it and we can discuss later. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
Without giving me a chance to respond to any of that, she slipped out, which Sienna laughed over.
“What the hell kinda assistant is she, talking to you like that? You’d think she was like… part of the team, not the girl who fetches coffee,” Sienna jeered.
I got up, putting some distance between us as I informed, “She is part of the team. And she only brings my coffee to be kind – not because she has to.”
“Oh here you go, always wanting everybody to feel important.”
“Logan is important,” I corrected. “Beauchamp’s is impossible to get in for a same-day reservation, but she’s gonna make it happen because her name holds the weight in this city – not mine.”
Sienna smirked. “Okay. Fine. I’m just saying… if she’s the Logan who found all that literary feminist bullshit Terry was giving aspirational… now I see why.”
“Tracy.”
“What?”
“My character’s name is Tracy,” I repeated, shaking my head. “And where Logan is concerned, you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, so how about you just don’t?”
“Wow,” she laughed, holding up her hands. “Fine. You know I didn’t mean any harm, right?”
I nodded, letting the issue die for now, but… that was exactly the problem.
She never meant any harm.
But the harm was there, whether or not it was meant.
Sienna headed out, citing wanting to change before we met for lunch. When I sat back down at my computer, I already had an email from Logan – reservation info and the Sugar&Spice feature details.
Nothing more.
I grabbed my phone, wanting to shoot her a text to explain that whatever it looked like between me and Sienna when she walked in, really wasn’t.
But why?
For weeks now, there had been no flirting, no innuendo – Logan wanted to keep shit professional, so we had. And it hadn’t even been awkward – we’d been incredibly productive, we’d talked, we’d laughed, there was nothing weird…
Explaining to her that Sienna wasn’t a potential girlfriend or whatever else might’ve gone through her head though… it didn’t feel like the type of thing that would improve our vibe.
So I put the phone back down.
We had a good energy going, and I wasn’t about to be the one to fuck it up.
15
Logan
I kept imagining myself kicking Sienna’s ass.
Now I usually wasn’t the type to really take it there because it just wasn’t my energy, which had been her saving grace. I wasn’t easily riled by pettiness from women who saw me as some sort of competition; which was obviously the case, because why else bring out the nastiness with a stranger?
She’d seen me, decided she had her place and I had mine, and wanted to make sure it stayed that way.
I wasn’t the one to play those games with though. If there were any two things in the world I was very certain about? They were: my value to clients and the fact that with this face, body, hair, and clothes – or without them – I looked good as fuck.
She felt it and she hated it.
I could’ve used that to make a point, sure.
But for what?
I had nothing to prove to her, so I did my damn job instead.
That was all mature, professional, don’t wanna chance messing up her manicure Logan though.
Outside Logan, if you will.
Inside Logan was currently putting a red-bottom on Sienna’s neck.
Pierre hadn’t bothered to introduce her, but it only took me a moment to pinpoint who she was and why I recognized her.
Sienna Sparks, a loud-mouthed party girl who was always in some kinda friction with someone via social media. She was a writer and producer, among some other titles she’d given herself. Her work was the kind of vapid, emotionally manipulative, reductive conversation starting, derivative bullshit ass shows that got attention in the echo chambers of social media, making them “hits” on the compelling strength of FOMO.
Like that God-awful The Common Room.
Fake ass Girlfriends, about a bunch of women in the same apartment building recycling the same men amongst themselves and getting mad at each other about it. Those trash ass dudes were the center of their silly ass worlds, when they weren’t being terrible friends to each other and horrible at their jobs and just being wastes of space in general.
The plots were all over the place and over the top and the acting was terrible. Stilted, unrealistic dialogue that seemed catered to being quoted for tweets and Instagram captions, weirdly forced lesson of the week ass scenarios.
One of the characters spent a whole episode lamenting the possibility she’d contracted HIV from a “down low” man, in this day and age, and I didn’t even change the channel – I just turned my whole fucking TV off and went to bed.
Maybe throwing offensive dated storylines, stereotypes, and controversies into a blender and slapping a millennial sticker on whatever it regurgitated was some people’s cup of tea.
It was not mine.
I didn’t hate-watch TV. My self-imposed limit forced me to spend the little time I had on stuff I actually enjoyed; so I never bothered tuning back in, and I hadn’t missed it, at all. I watched her receive her accolades and all that and I was glad to see the barriers she was breaking as a Black woman, proud to see her getting the shine.
Mediocre white folks got rewarded for wack shit all the time, why shouldn’t she?
The work just wasn’t for me and I accepted that.
Now that I knew she was a bitch though… well, I could proudly let
my internal fuck her flag fly.
I didn’t have to wonder how she and Pierre knew each other – she had a very similar background to his, Hollywood parents on both sides – so they’d probably run in the same crowds, been friends.
I also knew Pierre had been feeling iffy about the script, so it was no big shock that he’d sought another consultant – especially one who had a few, albeit terrible to me, hit shows.
It made sense.
Even what I’d walked in on, with her practically in his lap, them staring at each other like they were about to rip the other’s clothes off… my logical mind had no problem with that. My feelings about her as a person, and the quality of her work, aside… Sienna Sparks was a bombshell.
The woman was gorgeous, period.
Presumably she was single, and so was Pierre, so it made sense, completely, for there to be chemistry, and maybe more, between them.
In my not-so-logical mind though… I kept glancing at my phone, waiting for Pierre’s name to pop up with…
What, Logan? An assurance that it wasn’t what it looked like? A declaration that he only has eyes for you? What?
Shit.
I didn’t know what I was expecting, or what I wanted, or why I wanted it, I just wanted… something. A feeling I fully recognized as ridiculous, considering the fact that I was keeping him so firmly planted in the client part of my brain, only allowing overlaps with the boundary of friend. It wasn’t fair to feel so nauseous about the thought of him with someone else when really… that was the only possibility here.
This is nuts.
“Hey, you ready?”
I looked up from my phone to see my cousin Des heading toward me with a smile. As usual, she looked flawless, from her perfectly coiffed hair to her designer heels, but as I stood to greet her, she stopped in her tracks to hype me up.
“Damn we’ve got some good-looking women in this family,” she gushed as she pulled me into a hug, then air-kissed both my cheeks. “Where did you get this suit, ma’am?”
I sighed. “From this place mama sent me to.”
Des raised an eyebrow. “And you left there with something that fits like this?”
“Hell no, I got it tailored,” I laughed, locking arms with her as the hostess led us to our table. It had been entirely too long since I’d hung out with her, but I was already feeling a weight lifted off my chest.
Desiree’s experience and career – her superstar status among the Black Royalty in Vegas had been a large contributing factor of me branching out too. Her parents hadn’t been very happy about it either, but she’d transitioned her lucrative law career into that of a “fixer” in the vein of fictional Olivia Pope, and she was damn good at it.
The best.
I wanted that kind of notoriety, that kind of lionization attached to my name. Not fame, not really, just the kind of status where nobody had to recognize your face, but when they saw your name, they just knew – you better be sure you’re on the right side of it.
I had no interest in cleaning up messes for politicians and all that – no interest in the lane Des had carved for herself. There had been a time when I first left the firm, that she’d been very heavy with the recruitment speeches – she wanted me on her team, badly, and I was flattered.
My cousin saw me, and I needed that.
What I also needed though, was to create something of my own, which she always respected, and then encouraged. She was full of advice and resources, and it would’ve been silly of me to turn down the first clients she sent my way, so I didn’t. I took them on, and I worked hard as fuck, and I wasn’t perfect by a long shot back then, but I left them impressed.
In turn, they left my card and their testimonials with their friends.
And so it went.
Des was a bit older than me, which worked to my advantage. Her experience and insight made her an excellent mentor, friend, and sometimes sounding board.
Which, I could really use right now, on more topics than one.
I leaned over the table a bit, lowering my voice to ask, “Hey… keep it a buck with me. Have you ever crossed the line with a client?”
Her eyes went wide, and she held a finger up, taking a swig of water before she answered the question. “Look at me right now. Zero out of ten, do not recommend,” she stated, then her eyes narrowed. “Your current client is Pierre Perry, right?” she asked. “That young man is fine, but Logan…”
“Yeah,” I cringed. “Too late for that.”
“Of course it is,” Des sighed, shaking her head. “To answer your question… yes, in the past, I’ve crossed the line with the client. And it didn’t work in my favor, it was a fucking mess. Now I’m not saying that it can’t go right, because I’ve seen it before with other people in my field. I’ve just also seen it go wrong too many times.”
I shook my head. “Oh no, that’s not even the issue,” I told her. “It’s not... we’re not...trying to make it be something serious. That isn’t actually on the table.”
Des sat back. “Oh good. Why not?”
“Because it probably wouldn’t work out,” I laughed. “How are you going to say good and then ask why not?”
“Because I want to know why not,” she shrugged. “I was surprised when the news came out about you breaking up with Leslie, so I’m trying to figure out where your head is. Was this just a one-time thing and you’re working some single girl stuff out, or are you in the market for something serious and this guy is just not it? Or… something else?”
“I’m not sure either of those categories is accurate actually,” I admitted. “I’m definitely not in some big rush to jump into another relationship. I mean… I spent six years with Les, and it’s not like I hated the man the whole time.”
“Yeah I know,” Des laughed. “You were obsessed with his big-eared ass once you actually gave him a chance.”
I laughed. “Yes, I was. And when it was good between us, it was so good. I saw the forever, so clearly. But somewhere, something shifted – maybe him, maybe me, maybe both of us, but I couldn’t see it anymore. And once it was done… once it was over, it was just over. And I don’t know if I’ve really mourned that.”
“Do you feel like you need to still?” Des asked. “You were checked out for so long that you may have already done that without even really realizing it. So that’s my question: not do you think it’s too soon for you to move on, but do you feel like you’re ready to move on?”
“Well I’m definitely not hung up over Les,” I assured. “Like, that’s just not the issue at all. I’m… immersing myself in helping with the show, and I’m finding joy in that. I’m thinking about what I want for my career and where I want it to go – like I could specialize in just the TV thing, with the same general services, you know? And… I enjoy working with Pierre, and I think he’s a really great guy. And the sex is… fantastic. He really values and respects me, professionally and otherwise too, I think. He makes sure I’m okay. We’ve got the chemistry and all that good stuff – all the stuff that makes it not even matter if the other boxes get checked. I just don’t know if I want to be someone’s girlfriend right now,” I mused, realizing this was as much true consideration as I’d allowed myself to give to this possibility. “But then… there’s the fact that about an hour ago I walked in on him in his office with someone. So I’m kind of thinking he may have moved on.”
Des shrugged. “And it’s fine if he did, right? He’s far from the only eligible bachelor in Vegas. But my advice to you, whether it’s him or someone else, is that you can just… date someone. Everything doesn’t have to lead to marriage or even to a relationship. It’s not the end all, be all – not your prize in life. You can have fun just being out with someone – dinner, movies walking the strip, playing golf, whatever. Getting a hotel room and getting your back blown out. Whatever. It’s okay to do that and it not be more than that. If it becomes more, and you’re okay with that, then it does. But it doesn’t have to be the goal.”
I
pushed out a sigh and nodded. “You’re right. I guess after being in a relationship so long, it just kind of feels like the default state for me. But I get it though. You’re right,” I repeated. “Just because that was someone else’s goal for me, what they wanted to see, doesn’t mean I have to fall into it.”
“I know what I’m talking about every once in a while,” she teased. “If you’re going to take my advice there though, let me give you something else while I’ve got your ear. Talk to your damn daddy before he has a stroke.”
I rolled my eyes at that and Des laughed.
“I know I know they behaved badly, and they deserved the silent treatment because of it. I get it. You’re a grown woman and they needed to get off your back. But if you’re going to be grown, Logan? Be grown. You can have a conversation with your father and still stand on your convictions. If he’s still acting out, start the clock over, that’s his bad.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” she sang. “Is he an excellent litigator, yes. I understand that. My daddy is a lawyer too, and so is my sister, and my… well, I don’t have to tell you, you know how we do in this family,” she laughed. “Nobody wants to argue with a fucking lawyer, I know. But take the chance to at least hear him out, if for no other reason than… they’re getting old, Lo. We don’t know how much more time we’ll have with them. You shouldn’t allow the disrespect, no. Absolutely not. But… please talk to that man so he can stop whining about it to my daddy, who won’t stop whining about it to me.”
“So this is selfish for you, is what I’m hearing.”
“Duh,” she laughed. “I love you and I want you to be happy of course… but also these old men are getting on my nerves.”
We giggled about that and more, and enjoyed our lunch until we both needed to get back to work. I was surprised to discover she was headed to the WAWG building as well, for a meeting she couldn’t tell me anything about, with a network exec she couldn’t disclose. The only thing she would say was that men were disgusting. She wouldn’t clarify if that was about the client or not though.
Behind the Scenes Page 15
