The Perfect Ruin

by Shanora Williams

  “Okay,” I said with a smile. “What for?”

  “For having you join Ladies with Passion and devoting yourself to the cause. I am so grateful for you.”

  “Oh, please. I’m so thankful you let me join. Seriously, I’m honored.” We tapped glasses and then sipped. “This is really good.”

  Lola gave me a wink. “My chef is one of the best in Florida.”

  Of course he was.

  Two men wearing white gloves came to where we were seated and placed food down on the short, wooden table in front of us. There was all sorts of food and my belly grumbled at the sight of it. Fortunately, Lola couldn’t hear it. I hadn’t eaten that morning. I was saving my appetite for this brunch.

  “Will you need anything else, Mrs. Maxwell?” Georgia asked, popping up after the men walked away.

  “We’re okay for now, G.”

  Georgia nodded and left. When she disappeared around a corner, I took a hard sweep of Lola’s home again, absorbing everything I could see from where I was seated.

  Palm trees towered over the pedicured green grass and just past Corey’s yacht, I could clearly make out the Miami skyline in the distance. It seemed only a skip, hop, and a jump away.

  I turned my head left, and a wooden shed was across the pedicured lawn, nestled beneath the shade of the palms.

  “I’m going to dig right in. I’m starving,” Lola said, picking up a slice of cinnamon toast. I dug in as well, picking up a plate grabbing a small bunch of red grapes, a slice of watermelon, and a croissant stuffed with warm strawberry purée and cream cheese.

  “All right, Ivy. So, I’m going to be honest with you here and cut straight to the chase. I didn’t just invite you here because you volunteer for me now.”

  I froze a moment, wanting to avoid her eyes. Had she done her research? Found out more about me? I knew it! She knew exactly who I was.

  “No?” I kept my face casual but slightly confused.

  “No.” She dusted the crumbs from her hands and then reached for a folder beneath her seat. She handed it to me, and I quickly set down my plate to open it. I glanced up at her and she nodded her head. “Go on. Read it.” She was smiling; what was happening?

  I kept my hands steady as I opened the folder and read over the sheet of paper inside. My jaw instantly went slack as I did. My heart, which was beating like a drum in my chest a minute ago, settled a bit. She had no idea.

  “Wait . . . are you serious?” I asked.

  Lola’s features drooped a bit. “I can understand if you don’t want to do it. With volunteering already, I realize this is a lot for you to take on so soon, and I know you work full-time, so I don’t want you to feel—”

  “No—I think this is great! I’m just really surprised you actually want me to model the Ladies with Passion shirts this year.”

  “Of course I do! Have you looked in the mirror? You are a beautiful young lady! Noah is the one who brought it to my attention, actually—you being the perfect fit to model the shirts. He said you have a unique appeal and I agree. I’d love for you to be the face of the shirts this year.”

  “I mean, this is an honor, Lola! Really! But I’m so new to all this. Are you sure you don’t want someone else to do it? Someone who has been around longer than I have, like your friend Keke, maybe? She’s really pretty and would make a great fit.” I was pushing it, I knew, but I had to play my role. I’d done my research on Keke.

  “Well, Keke used to model the shirts,” Lola said, and I knew that, “but she doesn’t seem as interested anymore, and her schedule never coincides with Bailey’s. She’s a busy momma. I brought up the idea to her, about someone new modeling the shirts and tank tops this year when we met for dinner a few nights ago, just to feel her out. She didn’t seem to mind me asking around. Although I call the shots, I’d still hate for any of the ladies on my team to feel offended.”

  Well, she’d read Keke completely wrong then. Now I knew why she kept giving me dirty looks during the seminar yesterday. Lola must have told her she was considering giving me the model slot and she felt replaced, but of course she wasn’t going to flat-out tell Lola not to ask me.

  “Well, if Keke’s okay with it and you really want this, I’ll be happy to do it.” I wanted to laugh. Fuck Keke.

  “Great! And as you probably know, all proceeds for every shirt sold goes to the charity. We also want to present them in a slideshow for our gala this fall, to raise a few bucks for them, so you would be the face for that too. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Gotta admit, that makes me nervous.” I giggled. “But featuring the shirts during your gala seems like a good idea. I’m down.”

  “Yay! So, the only thing is, I’ll need you to come next weekend for the shoot. I know it’s short notice, but you’d be surprised how hard it is to find a model who will do this voluntarily. Many of them see my name involved and see dollar signs, and it’s so sad. But you won’t have to worry about makeup or anything—I’ll have it all covered, and I’ll even have a lunch planned for you afterward.”

  “I should be able to do next weekend. I’ll just see if I can switch my shift.” There was no way in hell I was missing this photo shoot.

  Full-blown relief struck me then. I’d thought surely she was going to confess to her crimes when she said she needed to be honest and flat-out tell me she knew who I was, but this was much better, honestly. She didn’t know who I was. I could keep up with my plan, play my part.

  Lola sighed and laughed. “Oh, this is wonderful. I was a little nervous to ask. You just joined the Ladies with Passion, and not only that but you seem so reserved—like this wouldn’t be your kind of thing.”

  “Well, I’ve never modeled before and I am kind of camera shy, but this is for the charity, so I really don’t mind.” I gave her a wide smile, putting down the folder and picking up my raspberry mimosa.

  “So good to hear. Well, just so you know, the photo shoot always happens here, on our deck. I hire a photographer who does a wonderful job of capturing the images I need. I invited you today so you could get a feel of my place, get acquainted with the atmosphere here,” she stated, gesturing to the area around us.

  Well, that wasn’t an issue. I felt right at home walking into her mansion. I’d dreamed of the day I’d be able to walk in and breathe it all in. Get a taste of what she experienced, a feel for how she lived her life, even if it was all for just a moment. I put on a grateful smile. “This place is lovely. There’s no reason not to love it.”

  “Corey will be so glad I found someone. Now I can stop talking his head off about searching for a model every night over dinner.”

  I sat up a little higher in my chair at the mention of Corey. “Well, you totally could have modeled the shirts yourself. You’re gorgeous, Lola.”

  She laughed. “Oh girl, you sound just like my husband. He constantly says that to me. I like to keep things fresh, though. Younger faces work better for LWP, considering most of the moms are women who are under thirty.”

  “That makes sense.” I sipped my drink. “And Corey is your husband, right?”

  “Yep, he is,” she answered, but not as excitedly as she had about the charity topic.

  “Does he help out a lot with the charity?” I asked, still trying to keep it light.

  “He does what he can. He’s always busy, so I don’t expect him to do much for it, but as far as hiring the right catering teams and getting donations from the men who feel they’re too good to donate to women’s charities, he’s good for that.” She chuckled.

  I tried not to roll my eyes.

  “Oh, that’s cool.” I paused for a moment. “You know, I follow you on Instagram,” I said, smiling coyly. “That’s how I know Corey is your husband . . . .”

  “You do?” Lola laughed. “That’s so great! I love Instagram! I’ll have to find you on there and give you a follow. It’s my favorite app.”

  Yeah, it was her favorite because she was a conceited bitch.

  “I always see pictures o
f you with him. You guys always look so happy together.”

  “Well, we try to be, you know? After everything we’ve been through, we try to live with smiles on our faces.” Her whole statement seemed practiced, like she’d said it many times before.

  “You mean with the miscarriage?” I asked, treading carefully. I kept my voice gentle, my face compassionate. She’d brought up the miscarriage before, and because I’d told my sob story, I hoped she wouldn’t take too much offense at my question.

  Lola nodded, then sipped her drink. She was quiet for a moment, looking at the ocean, scratching a manicured nail over her thumb cuticle. “Things change after having one, but it made our marriage stronger. Impenetrable.”

  Nothing is impenetrable. There’s always a way to break through something, especially a marriage, right? A warm breeze brushed by me as I finished off my mimosa and then picked up a strawberry. “How long have you guys been married, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Just short of seventeen years.” She smiled at the reminder.

  “Wow, that’s such a long time. Definitely goals.”

  “Things moved fast with us at first. We’d only been together two years, but I loved him so much—still love him so much. We woke up one morning and decided we wanted to be together for the rest of our lives. Didn’t want to live without each other for a second.”

  Oh, kill me now. I refrained from sucking my teeth and instead said, “That must be so nice—knowing you’ve met your soul mate.” I wanted to swallow those words. He was my soul mate.

  “Truly. So, are you dating anyone?” Lola asked, then sipped her drink, her hazel eyes on me.

  “No. I try to focus on working and building a future for myself for now. I just came here to start over.”

  “You must have had a rough childhood,” she murmured sympathetically. “Same as I did.”

  “I did,” I replied, holding back on a clipped tone.

  “What exactly are you trying to start over with, if you don’t mind?”

  I sat back and crossed my legs. “Well, I told you about my miscarriage at eighteen, and I also mentioned my shitty ex-boyfriend.”

  Lola nodded.

  “I suppose I just look at Miami as a fresh start. I know it’s not a long way from where I was raised, but it feels good to be somewhere else, around other people.”

  “I bet it does.” Lola sighed. “Well, I’m so glad you moved here. I can already tell you and I are going to get along just great.”

  Oh yeah. We were going to be the best of friends. Right now, I had to be gentle about how our friendship blossomed, though. I wanted her to know I was an asset, not a burden, or someone who was coming for her pockets . . . or her husband.

  I knew I’d gain more of her trust with time, so for now any little favors she needed from me, I’d do.

  Model for the charity? No problem, Lola!

  I’d do anything to take her down.

  * * *

  After we talked a little more over brunch, Lola gave me a tour of her home. She showed me four guest bedrooms, all of which were designed beautifully, but none of them could top the master bedroom.

  Lola and Corey’s bedroom had an ocean and pool view, and their walk-in closet was the size of my apartment. The bathroom was like something out of a magazine. A freestanding tub facing the ocean, heated marble floors, frameless shower doors, and a wide, silver rain-forest showerhead.

  Her office was upstairs, across from her favorite guest room. A MacBook on a glass desk, and two glass doors at the end of the room, revealing turquoise waters and a white deck.

  Envy coursed through me as she sauntered into a room she’d called her “thinking room” and pointed up at a crystal chandelier. This room was her motivation room, where she came to pace and think. It was fucking ridiculous, Marriott. She’d mentioned having the chandelier custom-made and that it had cost her several thousand dollars.

  “I come in here sometimes to look at this chandelier because I remember it was one of the first things I splurged on for this place,” Lola said, staring up at it. I had to admit, it was a gorgeous chandelier. Wide, with gold throngs and dangling teardrop crystals.

  Simple.

  Eloquent.

  Definitely a Lola Maxwell chandelier.

  “I didn’t care for the pool or the kitchen,” Lola went on. “This chandelier represents all my hard work. I look at it and I remember that even when things are tough, or if I’m having a bad day, I must persevere. I work hard for what I want and what I have, and I don’t quit.”

  I wanted to break the damn thing with a metal baseball bat. She didn’t deserve the chandelier or any of what she had. She lived her life like she had no secrets and told no lies. It annoyed me that she was one of the most well-paid and respected women of color in Florida. Knowing she got to attend extravagant dinners and be invited to private parties with celebrities ticked me off.

  My life was a living hell and had been for years because of her, and yet she had it all—a gorgeous home, a gorgeous husband, a gorgeous car, a gorgeous fucking thinking room with a gorgeous fucking chandelier.

  It wasn’t fair, but only children pouted about what was fair and what wasn’t. I was grown, and I would make things right again. Make it fair.

  I continued a smile and pretended to be in awe of the chandelier that inspired Lola’s lavish life.

  When it was time for me to go, Lola handed me a bottle of white wine from her wine fridge—it was her favorite and I needed to try it right away—and gave me a kiss on the cheek, reminding me to be at her place next Saturday for the photo shoot.

  I strolled past her blue Tesla and a black Chrysler 300 with bold silver rims that I could only assume belonged to Corey.

  Lola gave me a final wave as I started my car and even watched me leave her driveway from the front door. As I drove through the gates, though, making sure my windows were rolled up, I screamed as loudly as I could, until my lungs felt like they were about to pop.

  When I was far enough from her house that she couldn’t see me, but still in the privacy of the cobblestone driveway, I rested my head on the steering wheel while gripping it.

  Playing nice with her was killing me slowly, but I knew in the end all this would be worth it. I just had to keep following through. I had to keep Lola close, no matter how badly I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat and strangle her.

  “Gain her trust, then ruin her,” I said, putting the car in Drive and rolling out of the driveway. “Gain her trust, then ruin her.”

  I repeated the mantra off Star Island and the whole way home.

  CHAPTER NINE

  When I woke up the morning after brunch with Lola, the first thing I did was grab my phone and open the Instagram app. I could see why people became addicted to watching other people’s lives now, Marriott. You can’t help it, really. It’s human nature to see what other humans are up to.

  It was a surprise to see Lola had found me and followed me back, despite the fact that I had no photos on my account. Only thing I had was a profile image. It was all so pointless to me, but I suppose to keep up appearances and to let Lola know I was the average millennial, I had to start posting something soon.

  I sat up and stared at the half-empty bottle of white wine on my nightstand that Lola had sent me off with after brunch. I had looked it up while on my break at work. The bottle was worth three hundred dollars. I almost had the urge to dump it down the drain with a chuckle, just to know I’d wasted her money, but after spending all that time with her at her mansion, seeing how she got to live her life, and then dealing with rude-ass customers at work afterward, I decided to drink it when I got home instead.

  My head was throbbing as I clicked through Lola’s stories. I never did well with wine. I climbed out of bed and walked to my bathroom, taking down a bottle of painkillers. I popped two of them in my hand, then walked back to my nightstand to grab the wine bottle. The pill was in my mouth and I chugged down a good bit of wine before swallowing it all.
I know, I know. A bad thing to do—a dangerous cocktail—but it was fine. I lived.

  I lay in bed again, picking up my phone and visiting Corey’s profile this time.

  He was in Vegas with his boys, as Lola had mentioned. He’d posted several photos, and even had an image of him with one of his guys and a woman who looked like a stripper between them.

  I wondered what Lola thought, seeing that image; then again, I bet she wasn’t even bothered. She seemed like the kind of woman who trusted her husband more than anyone in the world.

  Men are pigs, but I had hoped Corey didn’t have any piglike traits. He seemed like the perfect gentleman. Strong. Kind. Funny when necessary. I was sure he had his flaws, as all people did, and the only way I was going to find out what they were was through Lola.

  It was a shame I spent the better half of my day off stalking the couple on my phone. Corey had added videos to his Instagram stories of him walking in Vegas, taking shots of liquor with his buddies. I wished I could be with him.

  There was an image of him on his profile. A new one. He’d taken a selfie on the balcony of his suite. The city of Las Vegas was behind him. He smiled wide, and his teeth were so white, and he had that stubble on his chin that proved he hadn’t shaved in about two weeks.

  He was so sexy. So dreamy.

  I envied how he could just run off and have a good time in a different state with no repercussions. Meanwhile, I killed myself for every dollar, pulling extra shifts just so I could pay my rent and afford my new membership at Best Rounds Kickboxing.

  The things I did to get close to Corey and Lola truly astounded me, Marriott, but it would be worth it. It had to be. And of course I’d cancel the membership later . . . once I had my foot completely in the door.

  Then a thought hit me.

  I went back to Lola’s profile to find an image of her with Keke. I’d seen one before but never paid much attention to it because I had no idea who Keke was or how important she was to Lola until the meeting for camp.