Larger Than Lyfe

by Cynthia Diane Thornton

  “Sometimes home pregnancy tests result in false positives,” Dr. Kardashian responded. “A variety of factors cause these tests to fail from time to time. That’s why it is always advisable to immediately visit your gynecologist to confirm things after taking a home pregnancy test.”

  “I don’t…I don’t understand,” Portia stammered in dismay. “Perhaps we should complete the testing again.”

  Dr. Kardashian shook her head sympathetically. “Portia…you’re healthy. If you want to have a child, you simply have to keep trying. There is nothing in your medical history that would act as an obstacle to your getting pregnant. Furthermore, the fun part is in trying to conceive.”

  She smiled at Portia and Mars as if she were offering consolation to a happy, sexually healthy couple. For the first time, Mars smiled back at her.

  “I thank you for your time, Dr. Kardashian,” he said, getting up. “Have a good day.”

  He took Portia by the arm and quickly ushered her out of the row of medical offices and out to the car. When he pulled up at Portia’s loft again, he shut off the engine. Portia sat, completely crestfallen, as if the news from Dr. Kardashian was still a complete shock to her.

  “You knew damned fucking well that you were not pregnant,” Mars said evenly. “I want you to LEAVE…ME…ALONE. Don’t call, don’t write, don’t send e-mail, don’t text me, don’t show up at my home or workplace ever again. It’s OVER! Leave me the FUCK alone. Get some counseling. Get a life. But, if you ever bother me again, I assure you that I will get a restraining order. Now…kindly…get the fuck out of my car without making a scene.”

  Portia’s expression was stoic as she stepped from Mars’s Mercedes and headed through the courtyard to her loft. Mars sped away without looking back.

  Keshari looked at the display screen of her vibrating BlackBerry to see who was calling.

  “Marcus, what’s up?” she said, answering her phone.

  “We need to get together. We have quite a bit to talk about.”

  Keshari rolled her eyes. Why did it seem, lately, like Marcus was always talking within some kind of damned riddle?

  “Marcus, surely you’ve caught it in the media. I’m extremely busy right now. I’m getting ready to fly to Miami as we speak for the fourth leg of auditions in my nationwide talent search project.”

  “Honey, you got some issues far more pressing than that right here in Los Angeles. Now, would you like me to come to you or are you going to come to me?”

  “Are you issuing me orders now, Marcus?” Keshari questioned with annoyance.

  “I’ll see you at my house at five…and I really don’t want to have to come looking for you.”

  Marcus’s end of the line clicked off as he ended his call. Keshari was furious. She picked up the phone and rang her assistant.

  “T., I need you to push my flight back until ten tonight.”

  “Keshari, you’re set at the airport to fly out of here at five. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get them to push it back on such short notice. We’re about to go into a staff meeting.”

  “T., that’s why I’ve got my own goddamned plane…so that I can switch up my flight times whenever the fuck I need to! And I’ve got an assistant to make sure that it happens without a single detail being missed!” She took a deep breath so that she did not become completely abusive with Terrence. “T., please push my flight back until eight tonight. Send me a text confirming the change as soon as it’s done. We’ll let the execs flying with me know in the staff meeting that the flight has to be pushed back.”

  “Not a problem,” Terrence responded and clicked off the extension.

  Larger Than Lyfe’s “Nationwide Search for a Star” auditions were about to hit Miami. Before the crew loaded onto the record label’s private jet and flew into Miami that evening, Keshari called a meeting to review the numbers for the project’s budget. She’d been particularly distracted ever since the unexpected visit from the DEA agent. She became even more agitated after the phone call from Marcus Means. She’d been on the phone with her security firm for the greater part of the morning. She’d tripled her security team and hired additional security specialists who were former military intelligence officers, possessing training in stealth, poisons, and explosives. When Terrence saw the figures for the cost of the upgraded security services, he knew that something serious had to be up.

  To date, no one had dared discuss the visit from the DEA agent. Not a word went around in LTL’s offices or anywhere else, for that matter. The only person with whom Terrence even dared discuss Keshari’s peculiar, current activities was his partner, but he felt certain that details would start getting leaked to the media if Keshari continued to behave in the bizarre way that she had been over the last few days in the presence of her staff. The woman was in rare form and Terrence knew that the press and the public would eat it up if they heard about it. “The Ice Princess of Hip-Hop Finally Has a Chink in Her Armor,” the headlines would blaze.

  “Okay, people,” Andre DeJesus said, “I’ve reviewed several set design layouts for the grand finale show. My group and I have selected the top three and need your final approval, Keshari, on the one we’re gonna go with.”

  He placed the three design boards in front of her and she flipped through them absently.

  “We all know that Misha Tierney was contracted to put together the gift bags for the panel of judges and the top ten finalists. With Misha’s connections to top-name vendors through her event planning firm, she’s already several items gratis or at less than wholesale. We’ve got Tiffany & Co., Motorola, Carol’s Daughter and Canyon Ranch Spa, just to name a few. These major names are glad to have their names connected to the event. The gift bags are each to have an estimated value of twenty-five thousand dollars.”

  “Damn!” Marvin Shabazz said, impressed. “That tops the gift bags for the Grammy Awards.”

  “Current advertising continues to maintain massive public, media, and industry interest in the project,” Andre continued, “but we’ve got to sit down and streamline our marketing and publicity strategies after Miami so that we don’t lose momentum and public interest as we get closer to the finale show. As we all know, this project has a pretty wide timeframe and the public has a short attention span. The last thing we want is even a slight dip in public interest.”

  “Let’s talk about the budget,” Keshari said.

  Andre paused and took a deep breath. For the first time since the start of the staff meeting, his excitement over the plans and accomplished feats for his multimillion-dollar brainchild faltered.

  “We are currently seventy-five thousand dollars over budget,” Andre said.

  Everything happened extremely fast after that. Keshari’s laptop went flying for a definite crash into the wall. Her latté went all over the table and dripped onto the Berber carpet. Executives went hopping away from the table, practically running over each other, as if gunfire had erupted.

  “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?!” Keshari looked at Andre and her two accountants as if they’d been caught embezzling the record label’s funds.

  No one rushed to provide a response.

  “I pretty much give free rein to my executives to make solid decisions for the good of this company. These are not new rules around here. They have always existed.

  “I distinctly told you in our very first meeting and I reminded you in every subsequent meeting that ‘when it even smells like we’re about to go over budget, I better know about it.’ Do you remember that, Andre?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you remember that, Nicolai?”

  “Of course, Keshari,” Nicolai Livingston replied.

  “Very well, then. Here’s what’s gonna happen. There is a massive figure already allocated to this project…and not a penny more will be put into this project. You guys are gonna have to put your heads together and get us back within budget…NOT ONE PENNY OVER…and you have until we return to L.A. from Miami to get it done,” Keshari sai
d.

  “Keshari, I’m working as one of the judges at the Miami auditions. There is absolutely no way that I’ll be able to do that as well as re-work these budget numbers. It’s impossible,” Andre said.

  “You have never let me down before, Andre, and I know that you won’t now. If this problem is not resolved by the time we return from Miami, there will be some terminations of employment.”

  Andre looked around the room at the other still-startled executives for support.

  “I’ll help you in any way that I can,” Sharonda Richards offered.

  The other executives nodded in agreement.

  “Alright, what else is on the agenda? What else do I need to know about?” Keshari asked in exasperation.

  Terrence was still busy attempting to clean up the sticky mess of Keshari’s spilled latté without further agitating Keshari with his movements. He sat down and opened his laptop to pull up his notes.

  “You meet with Cassandra Harrington and her son as soon as we return from Miami. It’s time to finalize your contract with VIBE Network. Also, Rasheed has requested a meeting when you get back from Miami. His manager called this morning.”

  “Did he say what it was about?” Keshari asked curiously.

  “No,” Terrence said, “but it seems like it might be serious.”

  “Serious?” Keshari said, now giving Terrence her undivided attention. “What makes you say that?”

  “That was just what I took from his tone,” Terrence responded. “Better yet, you and Rasheed have always had open door communication with each other. You rarely work through his manager. That’s mainly why I figured that the matter must be serious.”

  “Put him down for the first thing available when I return from Miami. Better yet, call him today and tell him that I’ll fly him out to Miami if he wants to meet with me there.”

  “No problem,” Terrence responded and quickly typed it into his notes.

  “Is there anything else?” Keshari asked.

  Everyone present was now still too stunned by Keshari’s actions a few moments ago to say or suggest a thing. Keshari maintained a poised and firm control of the operations of Larger Than Lyfe Entertainment that demanded respect because she treated all of her staff with respect, but no one knew how to take this “new” Keshari.

  “Okay, then,” she said, mental exhaustion clearly wearing away at the very core of her. “I’ll see you guys at the airport tonight.”

  With her broken laptop in her assistant Terrence’s hands, she grabbed up her BlackBerry and the set design boards for the finale show and left the conference room while everyone else was left sitting around the conference table wondering what exactly was going on with their boss.

  “Babygirl, you’ve officially got more extremely volatile shit on your hands than you’ve ever dealt with in your life. You’re not gonna be able to continue going about your days, playing executive, and leading a relatively uneventful double life with this one. The moment that DEA agent walked into your office in search of information, the entire game changed. So, what’s your plan?” Marcus asked.

  “What the fuck do you mean, what’s my plan?” Keshari snapped. “I plan to do exactly what I told you that I would do; separate myself COMPLETELY from this organization.”

  “Girl, do you realize that you are so close to having a price put on your head that you can bank on not making it to see the winner of your nationwide talent search?” Marcus chuckled and shook his head. “I always told Rick that no matter how smart you are, you were NEVER cut out for this business.”

  “Marcus, I have negotiated terms, safely moved and distributed more cocaine than any woman and most men in the United States.”

  “I sure hope that you didn’t tell that to the DEA agent who paid you a visit,” Marcus said.

  “Fuck you!” Keshari snapped.

  “Keshari, are you taking any of this seriously? No, better yet, have you lost your fucking mind?! You go about your day-to-day affairs as if you’re completely oblivious to what’s happening. You’ve even gone and gotten yourself involved in some romantic relationship that’s plastered on the cover of every entertainment tabloid in every major city in the U.S. You follow this trial nonchalantly as if you don’t fully comprehend the ramifications of Rick being sent to prison. So, again, I ask, are you taking any of this seriously?”

  “To be completely honest, the only thing that I’ve really been doing is everything in my power to begin to try to live a normal life,” Keshari responded. “The only way for me to leave this business, Marcus, is for me to leave this business, stop handling The Consortium’s affairs, walk away from all of it, and never look back.”

  Marcus shook his head and rolled his eyes. He was becoming extremely irritated by Keshari’s stupidity. “You do realize that the only reason you’re not dead already has to do with the history you have with Rick.”

  “Yes, I’m well aware of that,” Keshari said seriously. “I also know that I will have to take more precautions than I ever have to protect myself, but I have to do this. I can’t live with myself another day, leading my life as a member of The Consortium.”

  “Keshari, we’re operating at a disadvantage here and we have never been in a position like this before. The changes in suppliers, Rick’s murder charges, the visit from the DEA agent…and, for now, at least, I’ve managed to keep out of the pipelines information about your determined efforts to walk away from your role in this organization. Word gets around in our world a lot faster than it gets around anywhere else. Sharks smell blood in the water and rush to attack. A billion-dollar, Black-owned enterprise is in serious jeopardy right now. You owe it to The Consortium, you owe it to Rick, to help preserve what we’ve built.”

  The two of them sat in the living room of Marcus’s tenth-floor oceanfront apartment with its magnificent view of Santa Monica and the Pacific Ocean.

  “Rick put you through college and then paid for your very prestigious MBA from the Wharton School,” Marcus continued. “He even provided you with the initial funding to start up your record label…and this is how you repay him?”

  “All that’s going on right now, Marcus…maybe it’s a sign to all of us that it’s time for things to change. Better yet, maybe it’s just like you said. Perhaps I was never cut out for this business.”

  “This is more than just about The Consortium, Keshari. The Mexicans, our new supplier in Miami, the Colombians… These organizations span generations with power that reaches out farther than The Consortium. DEA inquiries are not acceptable to them, under any circumstances, and they believe in silencing every witness that federal law enforcement might even think about sub-poenaing before a grand jury. They don’t give a fuck about history.”

  “You know that I know all of what you’re saying,” Keshari responded.

  “You know that The Consortium will no longer protect you if you walk.”

  “I know that, too,” Keshari said, “and, still, I cannot do this anymore.”

  “You’re on your own now, Keshari,” Marcus said solemnly, “and there are dire consequences in this business for disloyalty.”

  Larger Than Lyfe’s private jet landed at Miami International Airport. Two limousines awaited the group. One took the LTL executives to their block of hotel rooms at the Mandarin Oriental Miami. The second limousine loaded Keshari’s Louis Vuitton luggage into the trunk to deliver Keshari to her luxurious, Mediterranean-style home in Palm Beach. The house was twice the size of her mansion in Palos Verdes and twice as extravagant.

  Palm Beach was an ultra-exclusive community comprised of mainly White, “old money” residents who were still quite resistant to accepting rich, Black residents into their ultra-elitist, little microcosm, no matter how wealthy they were. This made Keshari all the more determined to purchase the $12.5 million home that she had fallen in love with at first sight. She could have easily purchased or built the home of her dreams on Star Island, another ultra-exclusive, Florida community that welcomed very affluent, celeb
rity types like Rosie O’Donnell and Sean “Diddy” Combs, but she’d owned the Palm Beach residence for more than a year now and her neighbors, for the most part, were amicable.

  Keshari had sat by herself on the plane for the entire trip. She tried to sleep but couldn’t, so she kept her eyes closed so that she wouldn’t be bothered. Almost everyone kept a safe distance anyway, after her blow-up earlier at the staff meeting. The last thing any of them wanted more than a mile up in the air was a verbal or physical assault that they couldn’t fully get away from.

  Keshari’s security team had arrived the day before to get settled and view the property. They’d already reviewed the blueprints of the property prior to flying out of Los Angeles and they prepped Keshari as soon as she arrived. The housekeepers unpacked her things in the master suite while Keshari took a bath. Then she curled up with a cashmere throw on a chaise longue on the master suite’s balcony and went to sleep. Even while she slept, her mind could not stop analyzing her situation over and over again and planning her next steps.

  Mars’s limousine arrived at Keshari’s mansion late that night and Mars found Keshari wide awake in the library reviewing fabric swatches and design sketches for her upcoming apparel line, “The Plush Collection.” The woman was like a locomotive, Mars thought. She moved smoothly from one, intensive project to another all day every day, flew back and forth across the country almost every week, worked out with a physical trainer whenever she could fit her in, rarely ever slept, and still managed to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

  She had a long, project table set up next to her desk, where she could spread out the fabric swatches and sketches and organize them into groups. She had the telephone receiver to her ear and she was speaking to someone in Italian. She rolled back and forth in her desk chair between her desk and the project table while reviewing on her laptop photographs of models wearing samples of the prospective pieces for her apparel line.