This wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned not being ready for something, but Reyna had always accepted it. Marriage and children and living together were one thing, but not ready for a dual hamper? Reyna just couldn’t understand what this man’s issue was. The embarrassment and anger had hit her just about instantly. Reyna looked him right in his eyes and turned to walk away—no response, just an exit. She couldn’t afford to respond because she knew, just like he did, that her words meant nothing. She had allowed her words to lose all their value over the past few years because she had said a lot of stuff she didn’t mean, and her actions had contradicted a lot of things she had said she would or wouldn’t do. She knew at this point that only her actions could speak for her.
Reyna tried to ignore how silly and angry she felt about Michael’s inability to compromise for her happiness. She was ashamed to admit to him or to herself that she still wasn’t sure she could accept that he wasn’t ready.
Once she got to her car and sat down, she picked up her cell phone to call her sister Nelcida, but as she was dialing the number, an incoming call from Sereeta came through. Filled with all the emotions from her discussion with Michael, Reyna really didn’t want to speak with Sereeta at this moment. She wasn’t in the mood for any smart comments that would only cause her to yell at Sereeta for having the nerve to tell somebody how to handle their relationship. Sereeta was the type of friend who never looked in the mirror before she spoke; she was quick to tell someone how they should be, but she never looked at her own reflection. Reyna knew if she told Sereeta what had happened, chances were Sereeta would tell her how she needed to leave him alone and that she was a dummy to be waiting around any longer for him to “get serious” or propose—yet Sereeta was single and had been for years. Though Reyna knew she was crossing the borderline to foolishness for her patience with Michael, she really didn’t need Sereeta-funky-butt’s words of wisdom right now. By the time Reyna finished thinking all that through, the phone had stopped ringing.
Reyna pressed the button to clear her missed-call message and began to dial her sister’s number. As she pressed the sixth digit of Nelcida’s number, Sereeta’s number appeared on her screen again.
“What!?” Reyna said aloud in frustration. She answered on the third ring.
“Hello,” Reyna answered with her obvious attitude hanging out.
“Dag, a sister gotta hunt you down,” Sereeta said with a snicker.
“Knock it off,” Reyna said. “My phone was in my purse.”
“You are the worst with answering your phone, but anyway—”
“Yeah, anyway,” Reyna interrupted. “What’s up?”
“I got the job!” Sereeta shouted.
“Oh, wow. Congratulations!”
Despite the tears she was fighting back, distracting her thoughts, Reyna was genuinely happy for Sereeta.
“Thanks,” Sereeta said. “My starting salary will be seventy-eight thousand with benefits, and you’ll never guess who I’m assisting.”
“Who?” Reyna said, trying to sound excited to cover up her impatience.
“The Flash.”
“Who?” Reyna said.
“Corey Cox, the NBA player they call the Flash.”
“Oh, I kind of know Corey Cox, but I didn’t know about no Flash.”
“That’s what they call him—I guess because he’s fast or something. He just started playing with the Knicks a month ago.”
“Well, that’s good. When do you start?”
“Next week, but I met the entire team last night at this ESPN party.”
“How was that?”
“It was really cool. Corey is so fine, and so are a couple of his teammates. I felt like I was in heaven.”
“Uh-oh. No mixing business with pleasure; you do know that much, I hope.”
Sereeta just laughed. From the sound of her giggle, Reyna could tell that Sereeta already had some rule breaking in mind. If Reyna didn’t have her own problems on her mind, she would’ve pulled it out of her friend, but Sereeta’s drama was the least of her concerns right now.
Chapter 3
“Naomi, you have been working here for some time now. I expected that you would get the hang of things by now.” Naomi could hear her boss’s comment over and over in her head. She was devastated that she was still not on point at her job after four months already. Even though it was a simple mishandling of a message, it didn’t take much to irritate Naomi’s boss, Tiffany. Tiffany had been working in the music business for over ten years, and she had a reputation for taking no nonsense. Every executive assistant who had the honor to work for her was well aware that there would be more pain than pleasure. However, the benefits and experience from working for someone like her were well worth the pain.
Although Naomi had a college education and had learned a lot in her life, it was apparent she wasn’t that worldly. She was a naturally inquisitive but shy person, and the intimidation from this position had caused her to be humble and even more shy since her very first day. She hadn’t made that many friends at the company yet. She seemed to be overlooked a lot by most of the staff. It seemed as if people in the office just stepped over her to get to her boss—like she was just a voice to be heard before connecting staff with Tiffany on a phone call. Naomi hadn’t become comfortable enough yet to show Tiffany all her talents and smarts because she was too afraid to come out of her shell. She knew her boss didn’t give two craps about any of her insecurities—she had to get it together.
There was only one coworker who knew the real Naomi, and that was Kevin. Kevin worked in business and legal affairs, and he was a nice guy. He was Spanish with a lot of spunk and personality, and he had introduced himself to Naomi on her first day and extended his help if she needed anything. Kevin was five-nine and medium built with black hair he usually wore slicked back in a Brad Pitt kind of style. If everyone didn’t know he had a girlfriend, they would have assumed he was gay, and some people still thought that he was even after meeting his girlfriend. Naomi didn’t know too many gay people back home, but she had instantly fallen in love with Kevin. He not only amused the hell out of her, he made her feel comfortable. She only wished he worked next to her to make the day that much easier. He had accompanied her to lunch on most days—initially it had been just to help make her a bit more comfortable as the new girl, but eventually they had formed a little friendship. Kevin had been working for the record label for four years. He swore to Naomi that any day could be his last because he was ready to find a new job, but it was obvious that he, like several of the other employees, was a label whore.
Naomi was still beating herself up over her fumble with Tiffany, but she stopped to call Kevin.
“I just got in trouble with Tiffany.”
“What happened?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Hollywood called, and I told him she was in a meeting.”
“Was she in a meeting?”
“Yes, but she said I should have told her he was on the phone because she was waiting on his call.”
“Did she tell you she was waiting on his call before she went into the meeting?” he asked.
“No! So how was I supposed to know that?”
Kevin laughed. “You’ll catch on. Certain people are too important to be too busy for.”
“I see. Well, I wish I could figure out who is on that list and fast. This isn’t the first time she was upset because I mishandled a VIP, not knowing they were a VIP.”
“The list changes constantly. You just have to fine-tune your senses for it.”
“OK,” Naomi said with a hint of sarcasm.
“Let me go. I have to run this order sheet down to the art department.”
“OK, talk to you later.”
Naomi hung up and instantly opened a document on her computer. She began to type the letters VIP across the top. She then began to list all the names she remembered to be pretty damn important—those were the people she had found herself getting in trouble with over the past
few months—and the list started with Hollywood. She continued to add the artists who Tiffany stopped everything for, and she also added the bosses at the record label and a couple attorneys and other executives. Naomi knew some of the names probably didn’t belong on the list—and there were many names missing—but she figured she would use this list as a temporary point of reference. Whether it would help her a little or a lot, it was worth the try because Naomi wasn’t trying to lose this job.
Naomi was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans—one of her favorite pairs—and a sweatshirt with FORDHAM printed on it. Naomi hadn’t attended Fordham, but it was a promotional shirt she had received when she was in high school. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, and her glasses were sitting close to the end of her nose. She had four pictures hanging in her cubicle and no other decor aside from her office supplies. Her pictures were framed in oak—there was a photo of her with her boyfriend, Charles, from back home; a photo of her parents; one of her dog who had passed a few months before she had moved from Texas; and one of her college graduation. Her cubicle was a reflection of her personality and style: pretty simple and laid-back. Back home Naomi had never been the center of attention, and moving to New York alone was the most excitement she had experienced in her life so far.
It hadn’t been easy to just uproot her whole life and move to this new city all alone. Despite the serious nature of the decision, it hadn’t taken long for her to accept the offer. Naomi had been trying to get a job for months in whatever field she could, but she wanted more than anything to work in the music business. She took an extra year to finish her bachelor’s degree in liberal arts—and a “no set goals” minor. When she’d finished school and those school loans were fast approaching, she had applied to every posted paid position she could find. Initially, she had wanted a job making big bucks; she’d thought that, with a degree, her sky was the limit. She had spent four years and thousands upon thousands of dollars on this degree, and she assumed she would have no problem getting a job upon graduating. That reality had begun to fade as the months went by and there were very few callbacks and only two interviews, neither of which had led to a job offer.
Almost seven months had passed since her last interview, and she had sent out dozens more résumés, when she’d finally gotten a call for an interview in New York. Moving to New York definitely had pros and cons, but she knew it was worth pursuing. After a long journey, she had finally ended up sitting at her very own desk at a company, and she felt like she had graduated all over again. All her friends and enemies back home were so envious she would be working at a record label in New York City. She had come too far to have to start all over again—so she was willing to try anything to show Tiffany she could handle her job, fit in at the company, and be a hit in New York.
Chapter 4
“Why is it that you seem to think everything is always about you?” Madison asked.
“Whatever—I’m not in the mood for this right now,” Jamahl replied.
“When are you ever in the mood to discuss anything serious? All you want to do is soar by all our issues.”
“Whatever. I’m watching television. Can you please go back to whatever you were doing?”
Madison began to walk away and then turned back.
“No, you aren’t just going to dismiss me like I’m some child. I’m talking to you, and I’d appreciate it if you would listen.”
“And I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me right now.”
Madison could feel her stomach tying in knots from the frustration. She hated when Jamahl put up this wall; because he was so damn stubborn, it was hell trying to break it down.
“So you are just going to sit here and magnify the situation by ignoring me?”
“I’m not ignoring you, and you are the one magnifying the situation. All I said is I don’t want to go to some stupid event with you, and you are turning this into me being a selfish partner and thinking everything is about me. This is you making a big deal out of nothing.”
“There you go, saying it’s nothing. It is selfish of you because it’s a work event, and I would really like you to attend with me, and you are saying no without a reason.”
“I do have a reason: I don’t want to go, and I would really like it if you stopped pressuring me about it. So I think that makes you a selfish partner because you keep bothering me about it.”
Madison couldn’t take it anymore. When Jamahl got like this, there was no talking to him. He was determined to be difficult and not see things from her point of view, so she just figured she would save herself any more aggravation and go back to the bedroom where she’d been before she’d brought all this up again.
Jamahl didn’t say anything when he saw that Madison had gotten fed up and walked out of the living room. He just readjusted himself in his seat and turned the volume up some. Madison didn’t turn back this time; she continued into the bedroom.
She was cuddled up reading a book, with a recorded Tyra show on mute, when she began to want to go back into the living room and ask Jamahl yet again why he couldn’t join her at the MTV Video Music Awards preshow dinner the following week.
The only explanation he had given thus far was that he wasn’t interested in dealing with a bunch of fake industry people all night—whereas most people would die for the chance to go to the award show or any of the star-studded events surrounding it. Still, since he had said no a few days ago, there had been a bit of tension between them. Instead of going into the living room, though, she pulled the covers back over her legs, realizing that her badgering didn’t help at all—technically, she just made it worse.
Jamahl chuckled loudly at something on television. Just hearing his contentment while she was feeling pure aggravation annoyed Madison even more. She truly felt disgust in her veins; she was through trying to make her fiancé into the perfect mate. She kept telling herself to either accept him for who he was or walk out the door, but for some reason she couldn’t do either of the two. She just couldn’t seem to build a tolerance for his non–Prince Charming attributes, yet she wasn’t prepared to walk away from all she had built with him. It was definitely a catch-22, no matter how she sliced it.
Madison suddenly decided she was going to get out of the house and go to the mall, one of the few things that put her in a good mood. She threw on some black leggings, with a tan shirt that was long enough to cover her butt, and then pulled on her UGG boots. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and although she wasn’t spruced up, she looked cute without trying. She said nothing as she passed Jamahl, who was still stationed on the couch. She noticed that he looked at her while she was putting on her coat, but she knew he had too much pride to ask where she was going.
It was a Saturday afternoon, which meant it might be a bit crowded at the mall, but the way she was feeling, she figured it would beat sitting alone indoors. She was hoping Jamahl thought she was running off to meet her secret lover. At times, she really wished deep down that she had a lover. Her midnight-blue BMW was sitting in the driveway in desperate need of a wash, and Madison jumped right in. She put on her seatbelt and drove off, waving to her gorgeous neighbor Mitchell as she passed. Damn, if he wasn’t married and I didn’t live down the street from him with Jamahl…she told herself again for the millionth time.
She was only five blocks away when she realized she had left her cell phone at home. She sat at the stop sign for a whole minute, wondering if she should go back, but she decided against it. As though she weren’t addicted to her CrackBerry, Madison kept driving. It took everything in her to keep going, but she wasn’t in the mood to go back to that house and see Jamahl’s happy-go-lucky expression. He had this ability when they fought, to carry on like there was nothing wrong; meanwhile she would be smoking out of her ears. By the time she reached the mall, and stepped inside to her shopping heaven, she forgot about her phone. She walked right toward Nordstrom, ready to get lost in the scent of new clothes, shoes, and accessories.
Madison perused the floor and looked at the different racks of clothes. She had her eye on all things bright, it seemed—her last few shopping trips, she had brought home colors that stood out. Madison was ordinarily a black, white, gray, and navy girl, but lately she was loving bright colors from the whole Crayon box. It was actually making her enjoy shopping even more because she knew she wasn’t buying things the same or similar to something she already owned, and even if the item was similar to something she owned, she knew she didn’t have it in that color. She walked around the racks and took her time pulling things off to get a better look. It didn’t take long before the sight of a pine-green shoe and another paisley shoe caught her eye. She went straight to the woman behind the register to ask for both shoes in her size and then sat down to wait.
She looked around the mall at all the people whisking by. There were mothers with their strollers, and young girls with their friends and other ladies with their husbands. For a split second, Madison got lost in their joy. She wondered to herself which she would rather be: a mother, a young girl, or a wife. She was a thirty-six-year-old woman, and still there was so much she hadn’t experienced. Some days she felt left out—behind in life. She often felt regret that she had chosen a career over motherhood and a more settled lifestyle. Motherhood was pretty much out of the question; the job was so demanding she felt she would be a horrible mother. Her career definitely called for some sacrifice. Yet Jamahl wasn’t looking to marry someone who couldn’t commit to their home, let alone him. Madison knew exactly what she wanted on most days, but others, she didn’t.
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