by Zi'ere
The bold black letters set into a white background had changed my plans for the day in a matter of seconds. Chaos was staring me in the face once again. When a person was as rich and widely known as I was, there was no privacy to be had regarding the smallest occurrence. All of your personal and professional affairs could and would be broadcasted to the masses without prior consent. I wiped away my tears, stood up with perfect posture, and with my head held high I re-entered my home. There was no sense in crying over spilled milk now. The wrong had been done, the cat was out the bag, and there was no way I could stuff it back inside. I set out to retrace my steps. I needed to get dressed for the day. I had an epic scandal with my name all over it that needed my immediate attention. Maybe there would be a vacation in my future after I untangled the mess I was in.
“Lord, please give me the strength.”
Part 2
“I have told you too many times for me to count that you are not to call me while I am working. You are making my life too hectic as it is. I want to get out of this agreement I made with you more and more every day. You are making it that much easier for me to walk away from you and this insane plan of yours.”
Silence.
“Look, she just left to go to lunch and she will not be returning to the office today. Her phone and iPad have both been synced. I took care of that this morning. Just an FYI, she wasn’t in the best of moods when she left so I am guessing she is going to want to talk to Que earlier than normal and probably longer than normal tonight.”
Silence.
“Laini is really a good person, why are you doing something so hurtful to her? After all this time you have never even told me what Laini Jefferies has ever done to you to deserve all of this hurt. I can’t even call myself a Christian no more or call myself her friend for what I am helping you do to her life.”
Silence.
“You had best end this soon or I will end it for you. If I lose my job that would only be a slap on the wrist in comparison to how I have set her up to be humiliated. You need to figure out another way to get the money you need. Look I got to go! I think I hear someone coming.”
Silence.
1
Laini
I looked at the white gold wedding band that held the floating VVS diamond stones once again. I needed to reassure myself that if I were receiving this ring I would be totally happy with it for the rest of my life. The decision was made. The band was beautiful yet still held masculinity.
“Okay George, this is the one I am going to take with me.” I passed the ring back across the glass counter to place it into my personal jeweler’s open palm.
“You have excellent taste Laini. You know I have always told you that your style was a force to be reckoned with.” George Pollnitz was smoothing over the finishing touches of a single sales transaction that would meet his quota for the month.
“Thank you, but what would my style be if I didn’t have someone like you to bring my ideas to life? Your pieces are timeless and cannot be imitated. As long as you are in town, this is where I will spend my money.” I began to gather my personal belongings from the winged, high back and deep brown leather chair beside me.
“This request was entirely too easy. The real work comes when I start creating your original piece.”
“I know! I know I’m so excited about it already!” I was smiling so hard my cheeks were starting to get sore.
“I will admit that I have been looking forward to designing your bridal set as long as I have known you. Jewelry should fit the personality just like any article of clothing should. And we both know about the importance of the right fit.”
“Yes, it is what we do, huh?” I playfully gave George a pat on his forearm. His response was a flirty wink of his right eye.
“If only I were a few years younger sweetheart.” With his words his eyes locked with mine. I felt the heat of what could be called chemistry between us.
George had become increasingly aggressive in his pursuit of my attention. I knew that he was old enough to be my father, but sometimes I got the message that age was only a number to him. I chose to smile like I always did at the man flirting with me. He kept a twinkle in his eyes whenever we were in the same room.
“Just be sure to let me know as soon as the lucky man affirms the engagement.” I knew that he had already started brainstorming ideas for the expensive masterpiece that would equal heavy weight on my ring finger.
“You know I won’t keep you in suspense. You will be the second person I call when it is official. Just make sure everything about it is cohesive with the triangle Battella stone.”
“Yes Laini remember this is what we do. That diamond is breath taking as is but it will not be able to compete with your natural beauty. The intent is to make people green with envy when it is complete.”
George understood her all too well. It was no secret that two vibed off of the other frequently. He was my very own personal cheerleader and father figure all rolled into one.
“Go ahead and bill me for this one and continue thinking of the layout for my custom piece.”
“No problem sweetheart.” George gave me a kiss on the cheek and then a final smile as he placed the bag containing the massive ring on the hook of my finger.
I said my final goodbye’s and see you next time’s to the rest of the employees in the store. The cheesy grin that I held for George was now gone, I set my game face. In a matter of seconds I was on path to the chauffeured car waiting for me parked curbside just outside the store’s door. In the five steps I took on the sidewalk from door to door, paparazzi had snapped at least fifty frames easily. Having my picture taken when I was in public was nothing new for me to deal with. I had lived my entire life in the spotlight and at thirty four the intrusion was no longer a big deal. I was a regular at the Pollnitz Jewelry store. I knew there was no chance of the tabloids turning my visit into a profitable untrue story. After my personal body guard and driver, Liam had helped to secure me in the back seat my cell phone began to chirp signaling an incoming business call. I was shocked to see George’s picture and name lit up across the screen of my Galaxy S4.
“Hey, did I leave something in the store?”
“No sweetheart, it’s nothing like that. I had to call you in private to talk about this important move you are about to make that is so sudden.” He paused as if he was reciting words from memory.
“It’s not so sudden George. You know I’ve been with Que for a couple years now…” George cut me off mid- sentence.
“That is my whole point Laini. I know you have been with Quese for two years. But I have no idea whether or not he has been with only you. Laini when you’re in love you can’t see the flashing lights before the road abruptly ends and you fall off the cliff. I just want you to be more careful about your personal affairs. Take the time to see if this man is really who he says he is. Do you even know whether or not he can exist in your world? Princess, I couldn’t say I truly loved you if I didn’t voice my concerns. I will always be a trusted confidant no matter what, you know that.
“I understand your position and I know you are very protective of me. Everything will turn out just fine. When you meet Que you will see everything that I see in him.” Even though I knew George was listening to my every word, I felt as if my words were falling on deaf ears.
“I love you Laini. Tell your sisters I said hello. I hope you have a good day in the office.” Without waiting for a reply George disconnected the call.
My brow rose in concern. George had never abruptly ended a phone call like that with me before, ever. I began to let his words marinate in my head but just as quick I began to smile to myself. Thinking of Que did that to me. I was going to knock my man off his feet when I proposed marriage to him Friday night. There was no doubt in my mind.
“Liam, we’re going to the office now, please.” I caught a quick glance of the hazel irises of his eyes in the rearview mirror. I was reminded of how gorgeous he was. I was surrounded
by beautiful masculine alpha males. It was a wonder that I ever got any work done.
2
Laini
For the last two years I had been in an ongoing Facebook generated relationship with Quese Calhoun, the love of my life who I affectionately called Que. He was everything a woman wanted, needed, and dreamed of in a man. The only flaw he had that I was aware of, was that Que was as much of a work-alcoholic as I was. Our work schedules had made it impossible for us to lay a hand on each other the entire length of the relationship. Even though that particular part of our relationship was disheartening; we were both very clear about what we needed from the other. I felt as if Que understood me better than any other man I had ever had. To simply put it, I believed we were soul mates. Correction needed: we both believed we were soul mates. We were dedicated to make our relationship work.
Que was a card carrying member of the tall, dark, and handsome club complete with an award winning smile. He stood an even six foot three and was built athletically solid. He sported a low fade haircut with a clean shaven face that looked as smooth as a baby’s bottom. His dark chocolate complexion did little to take away from him being too pretty to be a man but gave him enough color to be a rare commodity. I rocked myself to sleep many a nights thinking about being held closed in his dark muscular arms and wrapped up in his toned legs. Que put in as much time in the gym as he did on the job and it showed regardless to what he was wearing. Dressed down in basketball shorts and a t-shirt he looked as if he could be a first round draft pick in the National Basketball Association. Dressed up in a Tom Ford suit he looked like an independently wealthy shot caller. He was in one word, perfect.
Que’s life was not as high profile as mine and that was another positive point for the success of our relationship. He supported my professional career and had never wavered on his position as being my personal cheerleader. He also never felt threatened by my membership to the African American elite of the rich and famous. Although Que didn’t make the money I made he was perfectly aligned to understand the lifestyle I was accustomed to. He was a top notch personal security guard to the stars. He worked with the who’s who in the celebrity world and he took his job very seriously. We preferred to leave the details of our professions out of our conversations at the end of each work day. I had no desire to think about how much time he spent overseas protecting sexy pop stars for months at a time while on tour. And he had no desire to think about another man protecting and being with me constantly the way Liam was.
For us, it was all about our hearts being aligned to be the best possible mate to the other despite the distance, commotion, schedules, and pay scales. Everyone else believed that Que was only a figment of my imagination, because no one had seen us together. Even though I didn’t care an ounce about what people thought about the life I lived, I knew without a shadow of doubt that Que and I were in love. I was ready to move on the next phase of our lives and in my head that spelled marriage. Money was no object, if Que still wanted to work, he could take over a position in the family business. I had clearly laid out all of the plans in my head and I had strong counter arguments lined up to give him without hesitation. The bottom line was that it was time for us to be together in the same state, city, home, and bed every night.
Because of the love we shared, I was not afraid to make the bold move of being the one to propose first. When Que flew into Chandler, Arizona tonight it would be the first time we have seen each other face to face. That fact was only a small thing to a giant to me. In my profession I made bold moves every day that puzzled onlookers at first glance but Laini Jefferies always delivered jaw dropping results. The conquest to have my man in this state with me, living as husband and wife would be nothing but another strategic move on the chess board called my life.
My biological clock was no longer ticking in hushed tones instead it was moving at the speed of a bomb triggered for detonation. I had to keep it real with myself in my own head before I could try to convince anyone else. I would never admit it to anyone but Jesus in the confessional booth that I was envious of the family life my friends were currently living. The group of beautiful rich, brown girls had gone from four bosses to a bustling eleven that included two husbands, a fiancé, a set of twins, and a set of triplets. I was the only one not in a committed solid relationship. I had never desired to be a bachelorette my entire adult life. I was a strong woman, needing an even stronger man by my side. I put on airs that the life of Laini was completely fabulous but when I was behind closed doors it was unbearably suffocating. I knew that I would be a good wife and mother. I would die giving it my all. There was no way I was going to continue to waste time waiting for Que to feel the urge to commit to me long term. It was now or never.
3
Laini
I straightened my clothing in anticipation of the next small personal photo shoot that would last the amount of time it took me to walk from the car to the main entrance of my office building. Liam had succeeded in bringing me safely to the office doors of Jefferies & Barton, headquarters for Purple Label and the Barton Modeling Agency. Purple Label was the twenty first century mecca of African American owned and operated high fashion women’s clothing, shoe, lingerie, handbag, and accessories line. Purple Label was created for all of us, by two of us over thirty years ago. I was the co-chief executive officer along with my twin sister Zoey Jefferies or Bug as I called her sometimes. I designed all of the clothing while Zoey designed handbags, shoes, and accessories. We both pushed the envelope with our designs season after season. There was nothing a woman needed in her wardrobe that Purple Label didn’t provide.
We paired with our best friends the Barton twins when we were only twenty years old to start a cutting edge corporation bringing life to the art of the African American model, Barton Modeling Agency. Zoey and I tried our best to remain behind the scenes in the modeling business since we had taken over Purple Label. The four of us had created a one of a kind dual of corporations that catered to each other. With all of the new changes taking place in our personal affairs, there would come a time when we would need to make some business changes as well. I had no idea when the charges would come about and what would be left in the end because family life had taken on new meanings to all of us.
With combining our joint business venture with Emani and Amina Barton and Purple Label, Zoey and I were worth an estimated three hundred fifty million each. Fresh out of high school we were independently learning the lessons of owning and operating the modeling agency while attending college. We would model in a few fashion shows a year, all the while freelancing at our parent’s fashion headquarters. Zoey and I had inherited the fashion corporation when our parents were killed in a head on collision nine years ago. Now here we were in our early thirties co- owning two multi- million dollar corporations. It was virtually unheard of, but it’s been like second nature for us to be African American yet living the lifestyle of modern day Kardashian women, minus the scandalous sex video. Between the four of us, we had a hand in every aspect of the business of empowering and elevating black women specifically, but I wanted to reach all women. Our approval in the field was the only one sought out to grow a brand. Ours was the only opinion that mattered in the industry.
Emani was called the Cruella Deville of the model industry behind her back by most of the women who worked for her. She ran a tight ship that was built on the foundation of outer beauty by any means necessary. While her outside beauty was gorgeous, on there really wasn’t anything there. But make no mistake about it she was the powerhouse that kept the business afloat on the paper end. She scored one contract after the next ensuring the models Amina groomed would make us all a lot of money. Since she had made her living in the fashion industry where money was spent to make more money, I couldn’t understand why Emani was so cheap. She was the tightest woman I have ever known when it came to spending. She ran her end of the business and her employees on a strict budget. Being belly up in bills would never be an issue for her. Sh
e did, however practice dressing the part of a successful woman with a black American Express, even though she rarely splurged like the rest of us. Nine times out of ten her spending was encouraged by her husband. Emani rarely ever wore Purple Label and that was one aspect of our friendship I constantly gave her hell about.
We were all secretly grateful that Emani had less interaction with the models and more with the business sharks she mirrored. Thanks to her cut throat business practices, there was no competition in the world that could produce the numbers Emani scored in the African American market. It didn’t matter what the media or even society thought about the models hired by the Barton Agency, Emani made sure there were beautiful brown girls walking the runway in every major show around the globe. Ninety five percent of the models on the payroll were African American the other five percent were of all other ethnicities.
Amina was more of a nurturer to the women who represented her company. Between her and Mrs. Gert, Amina’s assistant; the models were always welcomed with open arms. Amina took the time to get to know her employees individually and on somewhat person levels. She often went toe to toe with her sister in arguing why a particular model deserved a second chance when Emani was ready to hand out pink slips. Amina had a pure heart. I could honestly say that I had never heard her speak a negative word about anyone. Even if what needed to be said wasn’t so nice, Amina always dressed it up to be professional and caring at the same time. She was always busy putting out fires because no one wanted to deal with Emani unless they absolutely had too. If I had to pick a favorite between the two it would have to be Amina hands down. Another reason I loved Amina like a blood sister was because she believed in sporting Purple Label religiously. My friend also thought enough of our products to extend our pieces to her mother in law and sister in law, who were very stylish trendsetting women. Trendsetting and stylish was everything Purple Label stood for.
