“Benjamin, dear, who is your guest this week?” asked Benji’s mom, Julia, who was also my stepmother. Sitting regally in her chair across from my father, and looking like Cindy Crawford, she scooped up a tiny bit of eggs on her fork and placed it in her mouth. She hadn’t even look up from her plate as she asked the question. That was just how repetitive Benji’s actions were every week.
“This is Stacy.”
“Sammy,” the young woman said, correcting.
“I mean Sammy. We met a couple of days ago at the opening of the new Waldorf Astoria Hotel in downtown L.A.” I watched as Benji placed big spoonfuls of eggs, fruit, sausage, and home fries on his plate. Not once did he offer his guest any of the food, let alone a plate to put some on.
Benji started to stuff his face as he continued to give himself praise. “Yeah, Dad, if it wasn’t for me coming in to save the day, Roman here would’ve had another failed meeting.”
My father wiped his mouth with his napkin and gave all his attention to Benji. “How so?”
“Well . . .” Benji stuffed a whole sausage link into his mouth and chewed a few times. “Osamu and his guys had already told the translator that they would agree to twenty percent of the company, but I guess the translator either didn’t really understand too well or wanted to take matters into his own hands. When I walked in, he was trying to get Osamu to agree to ten percent, while Roman here was sitting at the table, playing Toy Blast or Words with Friends.”
My father turned to me. “Is that true, son?” he asked. He looked at me with a hint of concern in his dark eyes.
I shook my head. “First of all, I wasn’t playing no Toy Blast or Words with Friends.”
Benji laughed and stuffed another sausage into his mouth.
I went on. “Secondly, I had no idea that the translator was trying to get them to agree to a lower percentage. Honestly, I’m not mad at him for doing it. Had he gotten them to agree to ten percent, I would’ve promoted him to your job, Benjamin. At least he was trying to negotiate on behalf of the company. You, however, were just ready to party, as always.”
Benji pointed his knife at me and nodded his head.
“I take it you all went out to celebrate after Benji showed up and closed the deal?” Julia asked.
“Contrary to what you may believe, Ma, Osamu and his guys asked me what place was a good place to go celebrate,” Benji explained. “Just so happens that I was in the mood to see some titties and ass, so I told them about Decadence.”
“Benjamin!” Julia snapped. Her cheeks turned a few shades of red as she held the linen napkin over her mouth. “Where are your manners? You know we don’t talk like that at the breakfast table. It’s enough that you bring these guests that we’ve never met before every Sunday.” Julia looked over at Sammy. “Sorry, beautiful,” she said, then nodded her head and went back to eating.
“Now, back to this celebration. Do you think taking them to Decadence is what really sealed the deal?” my father asked with eager eyes. He always liked hearing stories about closing deals.
“I think so. That and a little friendly wager,” Benji replied, winking at me.
“Friendly wager? This could be interesting,” my father mused. “Do tell about this wager.”
“Well, there was this waitress in our section who kept trying to get Roman’s attention, but again, he was on one of his Toy Blast and Word with Friends binges,” Benji said. “Anyways, Marques bet me five hundred dollars that I couldn’t get her number by the end of the night. While we were making the bet, I told Osamu and his people about it. They, too, had noticed the way the waitress had been ogling Roman, so they got in on the action as well.”
Benji finally turned to his guest, who had been sitting there quietly and taking in our family conversation. “You want a plate or something? There is plenty of food for you to eat.”
She shook her head. “No thank you. I have a show later on tonight, and I don’t want to look fat.”
We all gave each other quick glances, more than likely thinking the same thing. After a few seconds of awkward silence, all eyes went back to my “will sleep with anything with two legs” stepbrother. Only Benji would bring someone to a brunch who didn’t want to put another pound on her one-hundred-pound body.
“Well . . .” My father cleared his throat. “What happened with the bet?”
Benji chewed some more of the food in his mouth, then took a big swallow of his orange juice. “I came home thirty-five hundred dollars richer.” A slick smirk spread across his face.
“You didn’t get her number,” I interjected. I distinctly remembered the waitress with the purple hair sliding her number to me and me throwing it away.
“I did to get her number,” Benji countered. “As soon as you threw it away in the trash can, I retrieved it and showed them my evidence.”
“You cheating bastard . . . ,” I snarled.
“Roman!” Julia snapped at me this time. “What did I just tell your brother about language at the table?”
I hated when she tried to talk to us as if we were teenagers. My father had married her when I was only three years old, and she had never treated me any different than she had her own son, Benji, but that hadn’t stopped me from missing my real mother. Sometimes I wondered what our life would be like if she were still alive. Would my father be as happy as he was now with Julia. Would I have been the pawn in a bitter divorce?
From what my father and my uncle Kazi had told me, my mother had one of the most beautiful souls they’d ever seen. Her heart was as pure as gold, and she loved me more than anything in the world. It was that love that she had for me that had her sacrifice her own life when a home-invasion robbery took place at our house the day after my father left to go out of town for business. Four men entered our home, looking for money, jewelry, and anything else that they could get their hands on.
Instead of being satisfied with what my mother gave them, they wanted more, and when she couldn’t produce any more, they threatened to kill me. When one of the gunmen pointed his gun at me, my mother covered me with her body, and when he pulled the trigger twice, she took both bullets that were fired from the chamber. She died while lying on top of me that night, right after she smiled, kissed me on my forehead, and closed her eyes for the last time. All I remembered was her long blond hair, which smelled like roses, and those emerald-green eyes, which resembled mine.
My mother’s death rocked my whole family to the core. My grandfather, who was in Russia at the time, flew out with my uncle Kazi and a few other family members and tried to take me from my father. They felt that I’d be better off with my Russian side of the family as opposed to with my workaholic single white father. That and they wanted the only connection to my mother close to them. My father, however, wasn’t having it. He told my grandfather and my uncle Kazi that he loved my mother just as much as they did and that he needed me with him, or he’d go insane. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing the love of his life and his son all in the same year.
Needless to say, my Russian family left me out here with my father and returned to Russia, with an agreement to get me every summer. A year after my mother died, my father met and married Julia after only a two-month courtship. A lot of people, including my uncle Kazi, didn’t agree with their union, because it happened so fast, but twenty-seven years later, Julia and my father were still together, with no signs of leaving each other.
I longed for the type of love my father had shared with my mother when they were together and was now sharing with Julia. I had come close, but I had never got that gut feeling my father had always told me I’d get when I found the one. Well, that was until I laid eyes on an ebony beauty with the most amazing gray eyes I’d ever seen. The moment my eyes connected with hers, I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me. Like I had just got socked in the stomach and couldn’t catch my breath for anything. Had it not been for my phone going off, I would have never taken my eyes off her. I mean, what she was doing wasn’t the
ideal job I’d want for my future wife, but as demeaning as being a stripper was, I understood that some people had to do whatever it took to make it in life.
A piece of pineapple hitting me on the side of my face brought me back to whatever discussion I’d been missing as I sat there, daydreaming about the girl from the club.
“See? This is what I was just talking about. Roman’s mind is always on other things, rather than being on closing these deals.” Benji laughed, wiping his hands on the linen napkin. “But that’s okay. What else are big brothers for? When little brother isn’t handling his business right, who better to swoop in and save the day than me?”
“And the way you dress could help a little as well, Roman,” Julia added. “I can’t believe you wore a red T-shirt, some tan shorts, and a green pair of Converse sneakers to a business meeting. What were you thinking, honey? Your father and I didn’t pay all that money for a personal stylist when you were promoted for you not to take full advantage of what they have to offer. You are the head of the company now, so you need to dress like it. Maybe then you won’t need your big brother over here to come in and help with closing those deals,” she said, nodding her head at me, then looking over at Benji, who was now texting on his phone and completely ignoring his guest.
“How I dress shouldn’t mean anything. I never see Bill Gates in a three-piece suit or, hell, even Mark Zuckerberg. Why does the way I dress have to determine the outcome of a deal?”
“Because, son, when people see you dressed like you own the place, they will treat you as such,” my dad interjected. “What businessman dressed to the nines will respect another businessman who comes to a meeting about money in an outfit that probably cost no more than fifty bucks?”
The question was rhetorical, but I answered it, anyway. “The same businessman who does the research on the company he’s going to potentially invest in and make a shitload of money with. I have dressed this way for the past two years and have brought more money to the business than you did your first two years, Dad. Granted Benji has helped with the Japanese investors, but that shouldn’t take away from the other deals I’ve closed all by myself—dressed in some Chucks, shorts, and a T-shirt.”
My father shifted in his seat, then turned toward me. His features were similar to mine. He was a large man like me, with hooded eyes, tan skin, a strong chin, and a chiseled jawline. The only difference between us two was his dark hair and my blond hair.
“Look, Roman, if you can’t wear a suit every day, like a normal CEO should, could you at least wear them to business meetings? Appease your old man, will you?” my dad pleaded.
I doubted that it would happen anytime soon, but I did nod my head in agreement.
My dad sighed. “That’s my boy.”
“Oh, and while we’re on the subject of suits . . . ,” Julia interjected. “Can you please wear one to the Gold Hearts Foundation Charity event on Friday? There will be a lot of important people there whose pockets we want to dig deep in for your foundation. We raised a little over half a million last year. I’m sure we can double that if the founder of Gold Hearts and CEO of RTD comes dress to the nines. You know all those rich people will have no problem donating those big bucks as long as you look like you would be able to donate to their charities the same amount they do to yours.”
Again, I nodded my head. Maybe I did need to start dressing the part if I wanted people to start taking me seriously. I’d just hit up Marques later on today to see if he could get us an appointment scheduled at his cousin’s tuxedo shop. If I was going to step out in a suit, I at least wanted it to be designed to my liking and to fit my style.
I looked over at Benji to gauge his opinion about what my father, Julia, and I had just talked about, but he was too busy whispering in his one-night stand’s ear and making her giggle like a little schoolgirl. The thought of bringing a date to the charity event crossed my mind but left just as fast. I didn’t want to be bothered with any of the girls I could call, especially since they didn’t have those mesmerizing gray eyes.
Melonee
I walked around the Beverly Center all by myself, trying to find an evening gown that caught my eye, thanks to my no-good best friend. Fiona’s ass had stood me up, and she hadn’t even had the decency to call or text and say why. I had called her phone all morning long and then an hour before we were scheduled to meet, and each call I made went straight to voice mail, which was odd. But I figured she was still upset with me for not answering the door the other morning. I knew when she finally checked her messages, she was going to be a little upset, because I had cussed her ass out something terrible on a few.
It was her idea to go shopping and her idea for us to crash this dumb charity event, which I wasn’t so keen on going to. If it wasn’t for the fact that I hoped to see red T-shirt guy again, I probably would ditch this shindig and do something else, like go to see Madison. I was starting to miss spending time with my munchkin, and to be quite honest, I’d rather be spending time with her, sipping tea and eating cookies with her stuffed animals, than with the stuck-up bougie people that I knew would be at this event.
When I’d talked to my granny today, she told me that Proof had stopped by earlier and had brought Madison a few things, saying that they were from me. As much as those gifts probably lit up my baby’s face, they really didn’t do anything for me. I would rather have been the one giving those toys to her and seeing that beautiful smile on her face, as opposed to her dad. Everything had better go according to plan Friday night, because if not, my decision to just bow out and leave the Black Widow Clique to Fiona and the rest of the crew would be that much easier.
I window-shopped for a few more minutes before I spotted this cute pair of tan ankle-strap heels in the display window at L. K. Bennett. Maybe if I picked my shoes out first, it would be easier to find a nice dress. Just before I walked into the overpriced store, my cell phone, which was in the back pocket of the jeans I had on, vibrated. I took out my phone, and a huge smile spread across my lips when my aunt Bree’s face lit up my screen.
“Auntie?” I said sternly when I answered the call.
“Niece?” she replied, her voice just as stern as mine.
After what felt like ten minutes of awkward silence, we both laughed.
“Bitch, what you up to?” Aunt Bree finally asked after we stopped laughing.
With my aunt being only five years older than me, she and I were more like sisters rather than auntie and niece. After my mother was killed, my aunt Bree had tried to step up to fill in the void that I endured, but with her being away at college, getting her PhD, and then working full-time as a chief scientist for MedStar Health Research Institute, it had been hard for her to juggle her life and mine at the same time. Especially when she already had her home and career set up in Maryland.
With my phone glued to my ear, I walked into the store and picked up the shoes I had my eyes on. “Nothing really. Just looking for something to wear to this charity event I have to go to tomorrow night.”
“Charity event? Tomorrow night? Did we meet someone new? Perhaps someone you would actually fall in love with and marry for the right reasons?”
Aunt Bree knew everything about the BWC and what it was all about. Although she had been against it from the start, and had lectured Fiona and me countless times about karma and what would happen if something ever went wrong, she was still low-key okay with what we were doing.
“Naw, nothing like that. Just another job,” I replied as I motioned to the saleswoman to assist me. “Do you have these in a size nine?”
The saleswoman nodded her head, then headed to the back of the store.
Aunt Bree sighed. “Another job, huh? Mel, when are you going to stop gambling with your life and do something productive with it? And where does Madison fit into all of this? You’re a great mother, don’t get me wrong, but how long do you think she’s going to accept you leaving for these long periods of time and not feel some type of way about it? I know she has
Proof and Granny there, but you gave birth to a young princess. You have to teach her how to be a queen.”
“I know, Auntie. But how can I teach her how to be a queen when I’ve never been treated like one?”
The saleswoman returned with a couple of shoe boxes and placed them in front of me after I took a seat. “I brought you a nine and a half as well, because these particular shoes happen to run a little snug.”
I mouthed the words thank you, then tried on the shoes as I continued to speak with my aunt.
“Look, Mel, I know you’re probably tired of me preaching this to you, but I love you, and I only want what’s best for you. What ever happened to you opening up that little bakery you and your mom used to always talk about?”
I smiled at the memory of one of my mother’s dreams for us. Because she and I both had had a love for the cartoon character Strawberry Shortcake, we had always talked about opening our own bakery just like her, with all the cakes, cookies, pies, and tarts you could imagine. We’d also sell different-flavored coffees and teas, but our specialty would be the baked goods. My mother had even wanted to make sure you could smell fresh strawberries whenever you walked through the door. Strawberries were one of her favorite scents. I hadn’t known how that would be possible with all the other goodies being made in the store, but my mother had insisted on having that smell.
A single tear escaped from my eye and ran down my cheek. I didn’t even know that I was crying until the saleswoman walked back up to me and handed me a tissue.
“I’m still going to open Berry Tasty,” I said, mentioning the name my mother and I had come up with for the shop. “I just have to do this one last job, and then Fiona can have it all.”
My aunt smacked her lips, and I could just see her honey-brown eyes rolling to the back of her head. She had never cared for Fiona very much but would never tell me why. Whenever she came to visit, she would mainly steered clear of Fee, or else a shouting match between them would always start up. I’d asked both of them at different times what all the beef was about, but every time I’d asked, they both just waved their hands and said, “I don’t fuck with her.”
The Black Widow Clique Page 7
