THE GOOD MISTRESS II: The Wedding

by Amarie Avant

  Yasmin shrugged her shoulders. “I just don’t understand. That sharmoto canceled our reservation. Furthermore, I just learned that there is a winter wonderland event happening this weekend, and there are no other suites available. He doubted that we would even be able to score a bigger room at a neighboring resort.”

  “Oh, God, Lido played us.” Veronica sighed. “She was angry with me at The People’s Love Project. Lido is so darn vindictive.”

  “What?” Mila asked.

  “When I told her she had to leave, I mentioned something that pissed her off.” Veronica shoved a hand through her blond hair. “This is payback. I’m such an idiot. We all drove up here for nothing. Mila, your sister has—”

  “What?” Now it was Yasmin’s turn to exclaim in shock. She placed a hand on her hip. “Are you saying Lido had you come up here under the guise that you’d be leading the peace treaty, and then she canceled the reservations for everyone.”

  “You guys, Zennie will be here tomorrow morning.” Mila shook her head. “I can’t. Please don’t mention that witch’s name anymore this evening, and, Yas, don’t call her a sharmoto, either. We can get a double room, and then hit the road after breakfast. We’ll just bring Zenobia home or something since it seems like this winter event has packed out the place. There was so much traffic on the way here that I don’t have the confidence to try another place.”

  “Wait, we can still do everything,” Veronica said. “Yasmin, you said they didn’t have suites. There are still other rooms, right?”

  “Yeah,” Yasmin mumbled.

  “Okay, Yasmin, Mila, we are still gonna have a great time. Let me check Lido’s credit card. So what if she canceled the reservation. We shack up in a room, nice and cozy. The spa that she scheduled for tomorrow morning is paid for—come or not—you must pay. We will still go. Let me check her credit card on my app and just make sure she actually reserved it.”

  “I want to go home,” Mila said, glancing at the lengthy line. People were cuddling as they walked along the lavish room. It was a cold ass day in Napa Valley, and she’d rather snuggle with Blake.

  “Girl, that spa Lido sent us a link to was everything.” Yasmin placed a hand on Mila’s shoulder. “We are going. Veronica, check and see if that heifa wasn’t just lying and fronted the bill for the spa. I’m going to get us a room. Faaid doesn’t have a major credit card, but I’ll be damned if I cannot get us a double bed. We will still stay out the weekend.”

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, they entered the box-shaped room that they’d call home for two nights. The room was decorated with mocha and chocolate embellishments, and a minimal amount of cheetah print offered a classy look. Though they couldn’t actually do the shuffle or some other dance while drunk, the room had two king-sized beds. If they held in their asses and hips to meander around, all would be fine. Since Zenobia did not know any of the other girls, Yasmin offered to sleep with Veronica.

  “Thank you,” Mila silently mouthed while Veronica placed her luggage in the closet. Each of them took a section in the tiny closet. With luggage in the walkway, the place would have felt claustrophobic.

  “We’re in luck,” Veronica said. “Lido’s card is already charged for tomorrow morning. I still have the card number and date, we can order room service on her?”

  “That sounds like a plan,” Yasmin said, now placing her rollaway next to Veronica’s.

  “No.” Mila shook her head, turning on the bathroom light. She nodded. Good accommodations. “No need to stoop to her pettiness. Lido is down in the gutter with her antics, and aside from being still baffled by her, I just can’t go low.”

  “Alright, but can we at least eat?” Yasmin grumbled. “That drive took something out of me.”

  “Now you’re talking my language.” Veronica patted her ultra-flat abdomen.

  Blake

  Jace, Blake’s friend and groomsmen, had called Blake at three a.m. the same morning that Mila was to leave for her bachelorette party. As a pre-wedding gift, Jace had scheduled a skydiving session for them. At the time, Blake had readily agreed. The adrenaline junkie in Jace was calling to Blake’s likeminded spirit. But when he received the call, Blake realized that he had gotten his days mixed up. He hadn’t anticipated being away the morning Mila was leaving, but a sleepy Mila had insisted he go. Jace had been the one to help Mila when she came in search of Blake in Nepal. She also knew with Blake and Kiyota’s deal being in the embryonic stage, Blake needed a rush release. With that decision made, Jace’s driver was in front of Blake’s home within a half hour. They were twelve thousand feet in the sky by the crack of dawn. Now, they sat at lunch on the balcony of the beach house Jace rarely frequented.

  “We get to watch some ass in two days.” Jace slathered butter on a third piece of toast. “Boobs and ass, what a beautiful site. Damn, I suppose this also signifies the end of your manhood, my friend.”

  “Nah,” Blake shook his head, holding up a cup of coffee. “One day you’ll meet that one woman.” He held up his index finger. “She’ll be worth—”

  “No more slaying pussy?” Questioned a voice from beside them. At the railing, headed in from the bike trail was Ephraim Levine. He was in one of his signature suits. “I had to park in Timbuk-fucking tu and walk. Which reminds me why I’m overdue to leave the States.”

  “Really.” Jace cocked an eyebrow while giving Ephraim a fist bump. “Take your ass to Colorado with us on a real climb.”

  Blake chimed in. “Speaking of pussy, Eph is afraid of all things nature.”

  “Oh, you got jokes?” Ephraim cocked a thick jet-black eyebrow up while snatching the turkey bacon from Blake’s plate. He took a bite and then pretended to choke it down. “Jace, this reminds me that we are not truly friends but associates. This healthy bullshit is blasphemous.”

  Jace smiled and held up his bowl of grapefruit. “Try this?”

  “Or if you want the bad shit,” Blake started, “he’s got algae juice in the house. Just spike it.”

  Ephraim took a seat as Jace told them both they’d be kicked out for talking shit.

  “I can’t believe this big motherfucker doesn’t eat meat,” Ephraim whistled. “A big hunk of meat, and two, maybe even four pieces of ass . . . that’s the life.”

  “You should’ve seen him a few minutes ago, Eph.” Blake settled back in his chair. “Jace had a stack of toast almost as high as the sky. Now, let’s talk ‘me schooling the two of you, idiots.’ ”

  “Oh really.” Ephraim grabbed another piece of turkey bacon.

  “I’m settling down. Which one of the two of you are next?”

  They were silent.

  Blake held up a banana and pointed it back and forth. They were acting like dumbass twenty-year-olds.

  “I plead the fifth,” Ephraim said.

  “Shit, I’m not even your best man.” Jace shook his head. “So, you coming to the bachelor party?”

  Ready for a subject change, Ephraim responded. “I like my women exotic. I’ve moved up to international ass. No domestic pussy for me.”

  They all laughed at that. Blake shook his head. It would take a meteor falling on the heads of his two friends for them to change their outlook on the female race.

  ***

  Jace and Ephraim had talked crap about Blake leaving in the afternoon, but he had a promise to keep, which included surprising Mila for the next three hundred and sixty-five days. Besides, they had a plan to meet in St. Louis in a few days for the real party.

  Now, Blake was entering the lobby of Tres Chic winery and resort. He sported a baseball cap slung low, and instead of his signature custom-made suit, a tailored leather jacket and jeans gave Blake a casual feel. Women stared all the same. Here, the opposite sex outnumbered their male counterparts three times over, at the least. He was already getting looks.

  Blake anticipated that Mila would be impressed by him going out of the way for a see-you-later kiss. It wasn’t diamonds or a swan out for blood, but Serenity had tau
ght him, Isaac, and Zenobia to never say goodbye. And he hadn’t seen her off properly this morning.

  In the check-in line before him, a trio of young ladies stood chatting and laughing. They turned, catching his eye then started flirting. Though they tried to whisper, he could hear their conversation. They were trying to figure out if Blake was here by himself. One doubted as much. The redhead, bold as she was, turned around and spoke up

  “Are you staying here alone?”

  “No, actually I wanted to sneak up and see my fiancée.” He emphasized fiancée.

  “Hmmm, lucky woman.” The redhead bit her lip. She was saved any further let down when the line moved. It was the girls’ turn at the counter.

  After the trio walked away, Blake moved up to the desk.

  “Hello sir, welcome to Tres Chic. Do you have reservations?”

  “No, I’m here to see my fiancée.”

  “Oh, awesome. We ran out of rooms about an hour ago. And here at Tres Chic, we hate turning potential guests away. Now, do you know what room she’s in?”

  “The best you have, I think. Mila Ali.”

  “Well, I’m not at liberty to provide you any information. If you’d like a moment to call or text her, then I can confirm she’s staying here. And I will, of course, be able to offer a key. If she’s in agreement.”

  “I wanted to surprise her. Just a hi and goodbye, kinda thing. You get my drift?” He asked, pulling two crisp hundreds from his wallet.

  The man’s hand slid across the table. “I understand very well, sir.”

  After placing the money in his pocket, the man typed on his computer. “Ali you said?”

  Blake nodded.

  “I don’t have anyone under that name in our suites.” The man began to type into his computer. “Oh, bingo, Mrs. Ali.”

  Five minutes later, Blake stood outside of a hotel room. He hadn’t expected the girls to be on any other level but a suite or penthouse, but apparently, they were on the third floor of the building.

  Shifting in his loafers, Blake thought for a moment. Instead of knocking, he could have one of the girls let him in. Because it would be awkward if strippers, or the like, were entertaining them. He walked back down the hall and tried Zenobia.

  “Hey, bro, whaddaya know?”

  “Where are you ladies, Zennie? Are you in the room?”

  “The room? What? Oh, no, I’m still at home. I told the girls that I would be there bright and early for the spa, and you know, the strippers. Lido ordered five of them for tomorrow night. Dicks swinging everywhere. Can I have a few dollars?” She laughed.

  “Bye, Zennie.” He hung up.

  For a few moments, Blake’s iPhone flipped through his fingers and over his knuckles as he thought. He had intended to surprise his lovely fiancée for a few minutes. He had just wanted to arrive before the real fun began. But what exactly was going on?

  Mila

  Dressed in a silk camisole and matching pajama pants, Mila flung the bottle of wine against the bedroom wall. It smashed into pieces. Not in her right mind, she couldn’t find Yasmin and assumed that she had disappeared into the bathroom. Their hotel room shrunk, confining her to an even tinier space.

  “Where is she?” Mila asked Veronica and her twin. Wait, was there double the dose of blond hotness beside her?

  Just as quickly as Veronica parted ways and became two supermodels, her frame merged back together as she placed her hand on Mila’s shoulders. Her baby blues were wide with concern. “Just take a deep breath.”

  Veronica had a bewildered look on her face. The shower had just turned off, and Yasmin was questioning them. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice muffled through the door.

  At the sound of her sister’s voice, Mila glanced around.

  “Um, who were you on the phone with?” Veronica asked, searching the closet for extra towels. Mila could only presume it was for the wine mess.

  Mila’s eyes narrowed. “Nobody yet.” She seemed to remember that she was holding her cellphone in her other hand and placed it to her ear. Yes, she was about to make a call. About to threaten and shout and scream.

  “Sweetie, what is going on?” Veronica asked. “Maybe you should sit down.”

  “Nope, I need to be up on my toes. Prepared to—Oh you wanna know why I’m . . .” Mila held up her index and thumb in a measurement, lips tensed. She wondered if she was gauging it correctly. “Why I’m two seconds away from snapping. You wanna see me on the news?”

  Just then, Mila sagged onto the marble floor, near the spilled wine and glass, hugging her legs to her chest. The threats she just made dried up, leaving only a gorgeous shell of sadness.

  Veronica eyed her in shock. They had just come back from dinner. They were all drunk off Grenache-Syrah-Mourvèdre, one of the strongest wines in Napa Valley. Dinner had started off well enough. The girls flirting with the waiter and receiving a free dessert and a wink. But Mila wasn’t a drinker.

  And she sure as hell wasn’t a happy drunk under the circumstances.

  Veronica kneeled down before Mila. “Sweetheart, you are too close to the glass. You have to get up.”

  “What in the world?” Yasmin said from over Veronica’s shoulder. She was dressed in fuzzy pajamas, and a plume of steam trailed after her as she exited the bathroom.

  Veronica gave her a confused look. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “I am so damn angry with you, Yas!” Mila pointed a stiff finger at her, standing up on shaky legs.

  “Because I got to the shower first?” Yasmin’s eyebrows pulled together.

  Mila teetered. “You invited Lido to plan my wedding. You offered her the chance to screw me. And she did that! She screwed me out of a million dollars. A million dollars!”

  Yasmin and Veronica exchanged glances.

  “Huh?” Yasmin asked. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or not.

  Mila held up her cell phone. On the screen was a photo of the wedding dress that Madame Renee had designed for Mila.

  “Honey, why is your dress olive green?” Yasmin murmured.

  “That’s not my damn dress, Yas! My dress cost a million dollars, and guess what, that bitch spent a million dollars of Blake’s money on her dress as well!”

  The story still did not click for her sister. Yasmin continued to blink. Normally, the one arguing and complaining, she was now comfortably swaddled in warm pajamas, good and drunk, having a hard time following Mila’s conversation.

  “Oh no.” Veronica understood. “Lido must have called Madame Renee and had her redesign her bridesmaid dress to mimic Mila’s. But how? Why?”

  “Forget how. We can imagine why.” Mila rolled her eyes. “We know who just screwed me! I never felt comfortable splurging with Blake’s money and for her to blatantly use him like that.”

  Mila’s chest heaved. A vein in her neck pulsed.

  “We can’t do anything about it now.” Yasmin rubbed her forearm. “Let’s have another glass of wine. We’re still going to the spa courtesy of Lido. Just tell Blake when you two are happy . . . and maybe pregnant. Men are nicer when you’re carrying their son.”

  Mila tried to pull away. Her sister’s attempts to cheer her up were not working.

  Yasmin stopped smiling and became serious. “Girl, at the end of the weekend, we are going to go tear that French bitch a new one for allowing Lido to change up the design of her damn dress!”

  “What about Lido?” Mila asked. For the first time ever, her gaze twinkled with the same darkness that always seemed to consume Lido.

  “We leave her alone, Mila. She is our sister, but there comes a point in time where we cannot work harder than someone else for them to love us. Fuck her, once and for all!”

  Mila’s eyes glossed over, and tears fell like the Niagara Falls. She started for the bathroom, and Yasmin followed her. “Just—Just give me a minute.”

  “But . . .” Veronica spoke up.

  “But my sister is supposed to love me. We share the same blo
od, Veronica. I want Yasmin and Lido standing next to me when I marry Blake. I want my family there. That’s something that shouldn’t be necessary to ask!” Mila shouted. The room receded. The walls felt like they were damn near squeezing into her now. She stalked to the bathroom. Inside, she sat on the chaise lounge and laid her head on the table and began to cry. That’s a damn lie. I don’t want her in my wedding anymore. I don’t want anything to do with . . . my blood. But who says shit like that!

  BLAKE

  Blake stood at the door to the room Yasmin had paid for. Though he hadn’t attempted to eavesdrop, he had heard every word. After all that, Mila still sees Lido standing next to her while we get married? A weight clung to his broad shoulders. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots. The women were consigned to a tiny room because of Lido.

  And Mila still wanted a relationship with Lido? He thought back to growing up with Isaac as a brother. The first fight he ever had with Isaac was when Serenity met the man she thought would sweep her off her feet. Isaac had been an asshole to the guy. Blake had told his friend to let up some, and they had gotten into the biggest argument. Cussing, throwing punches—everything that they usually tossed out to someone disrespecting one or the other—but never each other.

  Isaac had apologized. But in the end, aside from the gift of a daughter, Zenobia, the man Serenity had been in love with hadn’t offered a damn thing. The important thing was that Isaac and Blake had worked through it. They loved each other and Zennie when she came along too. They would always be there for each other. Blake felt like his friends were better siblings than Lido Ali would ever be to Mila.

  Still, she wanted Yasmin and Lido at her side during the wedding.

  He knocked on the door, which was answered by Veronica. She held a towel that must’ve been soaked in white wine. “Oh, hey, um . . . come in,” Veronica said. “Mila is not having a good evening.”

  “What happened?” he glanced around at the meager accommodations and the trail of liquid and glass on the floor. “What’s with the tiny room?”