by Taras Ford
“That’s fantastic, love!” Ricky swept her up in his arms. Sydney kicked her feet and giggled in triumph.
Portia smiled weakly, then looked away.
Trish clapped and cheered for her. “I’m so proud of you!”
Ricky placed her on her feet but grabbed her face and peppered it with kisses, and Sydney blushed at all the praise. He then squeezed her rump, and pulled her close.
“Stop, Ricky!” she said, trying to wiggle out of his hands.
“So what will you have to do to keep the part? Especially now that he’s put up my bail?” Portia asked.
Sydney’s smile faded. “Portia, don’t start.”
Ricky let her go. He looked over to Portia, then back to Sydney, confused. “What does she mean by that?” he asked.
“Didn’t you ask about the flowers? Why don’t you ask Sydney again where they came from?” Portia said with a sly smile.
The day-old flowers became the focus of everyone in the room. “Yo, where did the flowers come from?”
“Tell him, Sydney,” Portia spat. “Tell him what the rich pig tried to do to you!” Sydney shook her head at her friends. “He didn’t.”
“He did! You said he wanted to screw you. That he bought you flowers and a dress and then took you to the hotel for an easy lay.”
Ricky stared at Sydney, his eyes wide with disappointment. “What’s she talking about? Flowers and a dress? What’s going on in here?”
“Portia, stop this!” Trish said angrily. “That man helped you today.”
“That man doesn’t give a shit about me. I won’t let him toy with her so she can keep her part in his sorry-ass play!”
“Toy with me?” Sydney asked, stung by the implication that her accomplishments were too insignificant to win her the part.
Ricky grabbed her arm roughly. “Exactly what did you do to get that part?”
“What? Let go of me!” she shouted, jerking her arm away. “He’s done nothing to me. He saw me dance and knew it was my birthday, so he thought it would be nice to send me those things to celebrate it.”
“Is that why you were late coming to the club? Don’t you remember the last time you played this game?
Is this the way you want to be some dancer––”
Sydney slapped his face.
Portia shot upright and leapt to her feet. She shoved Sydney aside to get in Ricky's face. “What the hell do you mean, last time? Get the hell out!” she shouted. “All of you assholes with cocks are alike!” She ran to her room and slammed the door, leaving them all in silence.
After a moment, Sydney turned to Ricky, glaring at him. “I can’t believe you would say that to me. I trusted you about what happened with Ben Mendoza. I will never forgive you for throwing that back up in my face.”
Ricky reached for her, but she stepped back. “You’re too naive to understand this industry, love. You were hurt before. I just want to protect you. Men like him, like Mendoza, want to take advantage of the sweetness in you.”
She could feel Trish looking at her and see the question in her eyes. She ignored it as her own filled with angry tears. “I’m so tired of all of you thinking that because I grew up in a two-parent home in a town where we say y’all and went to Sunday school, I’m an idiot! What happened that night was not my fault. You were the one that told me that. Apparently you didn’t believe it.”
“Sydney, what night? What is he talking about? Who is Ben Mendoza?” Trish asked.
“You should go.”
“I didn’t mean it that way, baby girl. You know me.” Ricky took another step toward her.
“Yes, you did, just like Portia did the other day. I know who and what Nolen Adams is, and I haven’t allowed him to do anything with my body or my mind. But you, Ricky, I nearly gave myself to you the same night you claim I prostituted myself for a gig. Glad we missed that bullet.” Ricky shook his head. “Sydney, please. I’m just worried about you. Hell, I’m worried about Portia, all of you. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Doesn’t matter, because it feels like you did. Portia, I understand. She’s hurt because she thinks I might do what she does. But you’re supposed to know me.”
Ricky reached for her as she pushed past him.
“I love you!”
“Who asked you to?” she asked as she headed to her room and slammed the door.
Chapter 5
The Game of Hearts
Determined that this lapse in his friend’s judgment wouldn’t come back to haunt him, Nolen pounded on Todd’s steel-framed door with his gloved fist. Todd answered, holding an ice pack to the side of his face. It partially covered an angry looking purple and black bruise. Photos were scattered across the floor of the darkened room.
“What the fuck is with you, bailing out that cunt!” Todd shouted.
Nolen shouldered past him and Todd slid the loft door shut. “Answer me, damn it! Why’d you go behind my back to have Jim set that tramp loose? Look at what she did to me! To my place!”
“Shut up!” Nolen snapped, turning on his friend. “Tell me what happened, and stop with all the damn hysterics. You sound like a woman.”
“What happened? Don’t you think you should’ve asked what happened before you got involved?” Nolen narrowed his gaze under lowered brows. “Careful, Todd. I’m giving you a chance here. Explain it to me.”
“She brought her sweet ass in here and wiggled it in front of my face, daring me to take it,” Todd said, walking past Nolen toward his office. “Then when it was time to leave, she threw a fucking tantrum because I wouldn’t get her a gig!”
Nolen followed him into the office, flipping on the light switch to reveal broken glass everywhere. A plastic sheet was taped across the smashed office window leaking in the wintry cold from outside.
Nolen smirked.
“What the hell is so funny?” Todd demanded.
“I told you about these games. Bringing girls here and making empty promises just to get laid. Are you that damn bored?”
“I did no such thing! She came to me! She sat her ass on what used to be my three-thousand-dollar glass desk, spreading her legs and inviting me in!”
“And you know full well why she did that.”
Todd smashed the icepack against the side of his face. “Look, it doesn’t matter why I screwed the crazy bitch. What matters to me is that you would bail her out. Why? After I pulled a small miracle to get those damn pictures of that company man you wanted!”
Nolen shot Todd a warning look. They never discussed the business between them openly like this.
“Her roommate is a friend of mine. She needed my help, and I offered it.”
“You’ve got to be kidding, right? You walk your Johnny Cash ass in here, dressed in black, to tell me to stop screwing easy marks, and you flip me off for a piece of ass?”
“Do I ever kid?”
“What the fuck, man?”
“Besides, this one isn’t a piece of ass. She’s a friend, nothing more.” He walked around the office to get a closer look at the destruction.
“Who’s this friend?” Todd asked, frowning. “Does Xenia know?’
“Why would that matter?”
“Well, this friend and her roommate need to pay for this shit!” Todd snapped.
“What’d she hit you with?” Nolen asked, laughing.
“My Guridi sculpture that I had shipped from Italy,” Todd said, holding up a piece of it.
Nolen turned a chair right side up and sat down in it. “We need to be clear on something. I don’t want you messing with this girl. As a matter of fact, get her the job she wanted as an act of kindness or forgiveness because none of this”—he gestured around at the destruction—“should come back to interfere with my friendship with her roommate.”
“Kiss my ass!” Todd huffed. “There’s no way in hell I’ll help that broad! No way in hell!” He kicked a piece of broken artwork.
“Todd, don’t test my patience. You’re not a victim here.”
/> “Ok, so what if this happened to you? Would you be so forgiving?” Todd demanded.
“You and I both know this would never happen to me,” Nolen said, dismissing the notion.
“Fuck that shit, man. I’m not doing it!”
“I’ll give you time to get yourself together, but I want you to fix this and make it disappear,” Nolen said.
He walked out of the office toward the kitchen to get a beer. He turned from the refrigerator, beer in hand, to see Todd toss the ice pack into the sink.
“This roommate of hers,” Todd said. “What’s the big deal? Since when do you care if some woman you screw finds out that you’re a bad boy?”
Nolen choked on his beer. “What?” he laughed.
“Answer me, man. I’m serious!”
Nolen gave a one-shoulder shrug and lowered the beer. “I like her, and she’s different. She wouldn’t understand this. She’s fiercely protective of her friend. I just don’t need you undermining the progress that I’m making with her.”
Todd smiled slickly at him. “Progress? Ha! She rejected your ass!” Nolen slammed down the beer on the counter. “I was not rejected!” People didn’t reject him. People weren’t smart enough to know how to reject him. She put him off, and it peaked his interest. Nothing more.
“Bullshit! Yes, you were! I can see it all over you. You finally met someone who didn’t fall to her knees and suck your dick after you sent her some flowers and a red dress?” Nolen grimaced. “Whatever.”
Todd shook his head. “Damn it, what’s going on with you? You and I love to play, but interfering like this is way out of line. Are you seriously hung up on one chick?”
“Never mind that. And since you bought it up, you handled the job well. I got the pictures.”
“That company man is a freak. Did Annemarie tell you the best part?” Todd’s face puckered up smugly.
“Him sleeping with those hookers isn’t the best part?” Nolen asked and chuckled.
“I called her earlier. Damn, if you hadn’t been out there playing hero, you would know.”
“Know what, Todd? Just say it, damn it!”
“That hooker, well, she’s a he. That guy Harris is boning a female impersonator!” Nolen choked on his beer. He gagged and lowered it to the counter. Todd nodded that it was true. “So looks like once again, my friend, you can’t be stopped.”
Sydney sat back on her bed with her legs crossed. She listened to her tunes while leafing through a magazine.
“Is it safe to come in?” Trish asked from the other side of the door. It opened and Sydney looked up to her friend’s warm smile. She shrugged. Trish entered and took a seat at the foot of her bed. “Portia and I are so happy for you,” she said. “Today was the most special day of your life, and you should be very proud about it.”
“Why do she and Ricky treat me like some country bumpkin?”
“They love you, Sydney, trust me. Having people who care about you isn’t that easy to come by.” Sydney stared at her friend. Trish had told them several times that before them she had no love in her life. “I guess you’re right, but Nolen didn’t manipulate me. Actually he’s been pretty clear on what he wants.”
“Nolen, huh? Sounds like you two had an interesting conversation in that limo.” Sydney smiled. “He didn’t talk to me like I was stupid. I can hold my own with him. Ricky babies me, and Portia belittles me, and you mother me. Nolen just pretends he wants to listen.” Trish nodded. “Well, either way, I’m glad you had the chance to be heard.” Sydney shook her head, smiling. “I love you so much!” she said, getting up on her knees and hugging her friend. “Not having my mom to call is painful, but with you as my friend, I feel her sometimes.” Trish returned the hug. “We’re family. You know that.”
“Yes, but you’re the youngest of us and the most sane,” Sydney said.
“I wouldn’t say that. I do sleep on the couch.”
Sydney laughed. “Oh, give it up. You crash in our rooms when we aren’t here.” Trish laughed and nodded.
“Aren’t you going to ask me?” Sydney pressed.
“Ask you what?”
“What it was Ricky was talking about. Who Mendoza is? I know you heard him.” Trish sighed, and Sydney felt her retreat. When she looked over she had a patient understanding in her eyes. “All of us have our secrets. Who am I to want to know yours? If you ever want to tell me, I’ll be ready to listen.”
Sydney was grateful for the reprieve. They sat in silence for several minutes. Then Trish looked out into the hall toward Portia’s door. “We need to check on her.”
Sydney threw her legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll make the popcorn.”
“I’ll make her favorite peach Kool-Aid.”
They went in the kitchen and put together their girlfriend’s favorite combo. Sydney poured the popcorn into a yellow Tupperware bowl and Trish made three large glasses of Kool-Aid. Of course the night would not be complete without the selection of their favorite movie—My Bestfriend’s Wedding. It was the one they watched over and over when either of them was down.
“Ready?”
Trish nodded. “Ready!”
When they opened the door, the girls found Portia in bed under the covers. Sydney immediately went to the old VCR in Portia’s room and popped in the VHS tape. There were three DVD players in the apartment, but they preferred to watch it on the VHS. It was part of their little ritual to go old school. Grabbing the remote, she turned to see Trish placing the tray of drinks on the night table.
“All right, Portia, get up,” she said, snatching back the sheet. “No pouting in here. Whoever he was, he doesn’t have that power.”
Portia sat up, pushing her wild curls from her face. “I’m not in the mood, guys.”
“Which is exactly why we’re here,” Sydney said. She climbed onto the left side of the bed and Trish got in on the right, sandwiching Portia in the middle.
Portia smiled in spite of herself, accepting the warmth their sisterhood brought. The trio crammed into her full-sized bed. Sydney sat the popcorn bowl down in Portia’s lap. The movie played, and they laughed and jeered, just as they always did. Trish’s favorite part—the rehearsal lunch—came on, and she got up in front of the TV, singing.
Sydney and Portia picked up the chorus from the bed, and then jumped in as her backup singers. Trish grabbed the remote to use it as a microphone as she stood on the bed, performing the lead again while the two other girls danced around. Then they sang the chorus together, with Sydney and Portia shaking their hips and waving their arms in the air as Trish slung her long, blond hair around like a rock star while jumping up and down on the bed.
Their wild laughter filled the air. Each of them collapsed in a finale on top of each other, trying to catch their breaths. Then Portia looked over at Sydney and her smile faded. “I’m so sorry for accusing you of, you know. It’s my shit, not yours. It was unfair of me to dump it all on you.” Sydney swallowed, trying to catch her breath. She squeezed Portia’s knee. “What happened, girl?” she asked.
Sitting on the bed Indian-style, Trish grabbed Portia’s hand, dying to know what could rob Portia of her confidence and spunk. “I want to know too. Tell us what happened.” Portia pulled her hand away. She used both hands to move her hair away from her face. “I got burned, guys. You both told me that one day it would happen, and it did. I went to that dude’s studio, convinced that I could get what I wanted by using my body, and he attacked me.”
“He did what?”
Portia gave a wicked grin. “He attacked my character, and I split his head!” Sydney rolled her eyes. “Girl! Good grief, Portia!”
Trish frowned. “Portia, you have to stop doing this. It’s not safe.”
“I’ve learned my lesson. I feel so dirty and used. He was a creep, and I don’t ever want to see his smug ass again.”
“Who was he?” Trish asked.
“I’d rather not say.” Portia sighed. “He’s important in the industry. I just want to forg
et it.” Sydney knew Portia’s real reason for keeping his identity a secret. Her friend hadn’t learned her lesson, and if their paths crossed again, she’d make another move. Crazy as it sounded, that’s how Portia’s mind worked. Sydney held her tongue for calling her out on it. She touched her knee. “Portia, you are so beautiful and talented. Why you do these things, I’ll never understand. I’m just glad you won’t be doing this again.” Portia got off the floor. “Nope, it doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t have a career. The man I attacked could ruin me. Hell, there is no me. I can kiss getting into Ford goodbye.” Trish shook her head. “We don’t quit around here! We just don’t do it! You dust yourself off and go right back out there.”
Portia smiled, but she didn’t look convinced. After a moment, she put her hands on her hips. “Well since you put it like that!” she said and laughed.
“Hey, that’s it, girls. Got to be up with the chickens. ’Night!” Sydney said, rising from the floor.
“’Night!” Trish and Portia said in unison. Then Trish joined Portia in her bed, and together they finished off the popcorn and movie under Portia’s covers.
Sydney walked to her room, picking up her backpack along the way. Closing her door, she sat on the bed and pulled out the packet with her contract and information on the show. Nolen’s card fell out, and she picked it up. She thought about Mendoza and felt a chill. Her heart hurt over Ricky’s accusation. He was the only one to whom she’d revealed that nightmare. The tears she shed while in his arms recanting the ugly story did nothing for the shame she carried at being so trusting. Could Nolen Adams be a man like Mendoza? Was she supposed to be afraid of any and every man outside of Ricky’s shadow?
There were a hundred and one reasons why she should tear up Nolen’s card, but somehow she couldn’t.
Whether it was his seductive voice or jeweled eyes, this man had her head spinning. Nolen Adams wasn’t Mr.
Mendoza. And she wasn’t going to be that girl who thought he was—a girl led by fear, not common sense.
