All Up In My Business

by Lutishia Lovely

  “Honestly, Kim, I was so shocked, my emotions so scrambled, all I wanted to do was get out of there, away from them.”

  Kim was silent a moment, pondering what her dear friend had told her. “You need to at least find out for sure what happened,” she finally said.

  “Isn’t it obvious? She was in our suite, Kim!”

  “But who’s to say how she got there. Women like her will do anything to get the man they want. Trust me, I know.”

  Alexis couldn’t argue. Kim would know. Her husband used to be a professional baseball player. Kim had dealt with several zealous females in the years she’d been married who’d given the words bold and determined new meaning.

  “I don’t know your guy, and we haven’t talked much, but from the little you have told me, Alexis, he at least deserves a chance to be heard.”

  Alexis sighed. “I guess you’re right, but I’m not ready to face him. Wait, Kim, hold on.” The unfamiliar number on call-waiting had an Atlanta area code. Alexis thought it could be a client. She clicked over. “Alexis St. Clair.”

  “Alexis, it’s Zoe. Are you okay?”

  Alexis’s back stiffened. “Did Toussaint ask you to call me?”

  “No! Alexis, please don’t hang up. I’m in my room, alone. Toussaint has no idea I’m calling. But let me tell you, girl, he’s worried sick! Almost choked Drake because he thought Drake knew about Shyla!”

  “Did you know about her?” Alexis remembered Kim on the other line. “Zoe, hang on.” She clicked over. “Kim, let me call you back.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay? You know there’s a guest room in Dallas with your name on it.”

  “Thanks for the invite, sistah. I’ll keep it in mind.” Alexis’s friendly voice once again turned stern as she clicked back over. “Zoe, I need to ask you something. Just what do you know about Shyla and Toussaint?”

  Zoe took a deep breath before answering. “Listen, Alexis. Toussaint’s my boss, indirectly, so I don’t want to get caught up in some mess. But I can tell you this: Shyla and Toussaint used to see each other, but I don’t think that’s still the case. I do know that she wanted to come on this trip and was furious when they brought me instead. I’ve never seen Toussaint as mad as he was earlier. And I’ll tell you something else—Shyla ran out of this hotel as if the devil were chasing her. Bags and all, she’s gone.”

  “You saw her?”

  “Uh-huh. Me and Drake were sitting at the bar, waiting for a table. I saw girlfriend flying through the lobby. And she looked none too happy. In fact, she looked scared as hell.”

  They talked a few more minutes. Zoe assured Alexis that what happened at the Ritz would stay at the Ritz, and Alexis thanked Zoe for the call. Arriving at the airport, Alexis felt better getting out of the taxi than she had getting in. But she still wasn’t ready to go home, alone.

  Alexis approached the ticket counter with a new thought in mind. She knew what she needed and where she needed to be. Her brothers may have been deadbeats and her stepfather a drunk and her mother their enabler. But they were all the family she had. And right now, that’s what she needed—family. Alexis made the reservation and headed toward her gate. She would be all right, as soon as she got to St. Louis.

  51

  Chardonnay turned her head from side to side, still adjusting to her freshly done weave. “Are you sure it don’t look like too much hair?” She was sitting at Zoe’s dining room table, watching her friend try and act like a chef. “Ooh, olives in meat loaf? That sounds nasty!”

  “Unh-unh. Bobby told me this little trick.”

  “You seem to talk to him an awful lot. I think y’all screwing.”

  “Some women can have men friends and not screw them, Char.”

  “But what would be the point?”

  “In-tee-ways … these,” she continued, holding up a gooey red blob, “are sun-dried tomatoes, soaked in olive oil. Both of these add what Bobby and Oliver call texture, those layers that make our food taste so good.”

  “What, you’re going to conquer the marketing department and then go for chef? You trying to put Taste of Soul on lock!”

  “No, I’m just trying to learn how to cook. One of these days, I’ll have a man up in here and don’t want to have to order pizza every night.”

  “What’s his name … Bobby?” Chardonnay’s laugh was hollow and didn’t reach her eyes.

  Zoe took a deep breath and ignored Chardonnay. She knew what her friend’s crass, hardened exterior was all about—trying to shield the hurt little girl who still lingered inside her. But Zoe was done preaching to someone who didn’t want to listen. It was her life. If Chardonnay wanted to end up alone and bitter, that was on her. “Like I told you when I came back from LA, “ she said, reaching for a pan from a bottom cabinet and dumping the meat loaf mixture into it. “It’s all about me right now. I’m motivated to better myself, get my degree and make a career with the Livingston Corporation. You might think about the company’s college program, Char. You can apply for one of their employee scholarships, where they help pay for any classes geared toward the food industry.”

  Chardonnay stood abruptly. “You got some wine? I need to get my buzz on, shit.”

  Zoe nodded toward the refrigerator. “You’re in there.” Chardonnay smiled as she pulled out a bottle of chilled white wine. “Damn, I’m cool just like this too. And taste even better.”

  “Girl, please …”

  The two friends enjoyed a companionable silence while Chardonnay opened the bottle, poured a large glass of wine, and leaned back on the counter. Zoe placed her hands on the meaty mixture and began sculpting it into a loaf. While she did so, she thought back to a week ago, when she was in LA and Shyla’s unexpected appearance had caused the feces to hit the fan. She still couldn’t believe how fast things changed: Shyla got fired, Drake was given the temporary title of marketing manager to go with that of business development, and Zoe was shifted into the marketing department as a junior manager, directly under Drake.

  “I still can’t believe Shyla’s crazy ass,” Chardonnay said, as if reading Zoe’s mind. Zoe had kept her word to Alexis and not told anyone what happened. But as usual, Chardonnay had a way of finding out everything, and once prompted, Drake admitted that he’d been the one who’d spilled the beans. “Bogarding her way into Toussaint’s room and ruining his new thing. But then again, that’s what he gets for being so fine.”

  Instead of responding, Zoe placed the meat loaf in the oven, poured herself a glass of wine, and joined Chardonnay at the table. “What time is Ray-Ray’s father bringing the kids back?”

  “I didn’t tell you? His new woman is trying to play wifey. They took the kids to Six Flags and are keeping them overnight. No rug rats for twenty-four hours!”

  “And you’re hanging with your BFF instead of a hardhead. I feel all warm and fuzzy.”

  “Don’t get it twisted, sistah. I’m just stopping through. Company’s coming over later.”

  “Q?”

  “Hell no! I found out why his ass went MIA—nucka had gonorrhea. Can you believe that shit?”

  “I can’t believe he had it, and I can’t believe he told you!”

  “He knew about it the night you met him, said he didn’t tell me because he was using protection. Then guilt started eating him up, and he told me to get checked. Luckily, I’m straight.”

  “This feels like a warning to me, girl. You’d better be careful.”

  “Girl, you don’t have to tell me twice. As much as I hated to, I dropped his ass. Back with this little tenderoni I met a while back. Looks like a younger version of T.I.”

  “A younger version of the rapper? Who’s all of what, twenty-five?”

  “T.I. is at least thirty years old. Young blood is twenty.”

  “Damn! Kinda close to the cradle, don’t you think?”

  Chardonnay shrugged, lighting a cigarette. “He’s five years older than I was when my stepfather took my cherry.”

  Zoe had been shocked to le
arn that Chardonnay’s stepfather had raped her, and that Chardonnay’s mother called her a liar when told what happened. This revelation helped Zoe understand some of her friend’s behavior—her negative outlook, her rampant marijuana smoking and multiple sex partners. It was a classic example of looking for love in all the wrong places and yet not seeing love when it stared her in the face. “I think you should call Bobby, tell him you want to go to a movie.”

  “I’m done with him, Zoe. He’s getting too serious. The minute he deleted those pics from his cell phone, his days were numbered. And now his number’s up.” Chardonnay reached for her purse and stood. “See you later, chickie. Time to test out my new man.”

  52

  Adam and Candace sat in the quiet of their den. He reached for the cup of tea that Candace offered and took a tentative sip. “This is good.”

  “Thanks. You want a slice of pound cake? Diane made it.”

  Adam nodded, and she soon handed him a saucer. They ate silently. Candace was grateful beyond measure for something so simple as enjoying quiet time with her husband. Almost three weeks had passed since she’d come back home, and she was still in the guest room. Slowly but surely, however, familiar routines returned: evenings spent talking, catching up on the day, Adam reading the paper, Candace reading a book or working a Sudoku puzzle. They’d eaten out a few times, joining Ace and Diane, and had taken in a Tyler Perry movie the previous Saturday. All traces of Quintin Bright, including the gonorrhea, had disappeared. Now Candace longed for the penis she once took for granted. There was nothing she wanted more than to make love to her husband. But she knew that would only happen when Adam made the first move. Candace sighed and sipped her tea.

  “I’m worried about Toussaint,” Candace said into the silence. “I don’t like the way he looks, and I think he’s losing weight.”

  Adam grunted and turned to the sports section of the newspaper. “Who’s this girl anyway?”

  “Her name is Alexis. She’s the interior designer who worked on his house.”

  “Humph. Looks like that’s not all she worked on.”

  Candice smiled. “That’s the same thing Ace and Diane said.”

  “I know the boy’s hurting. But I still hated to let Shyla go. She was a damn good marketing manager.”

  “Yes, Adam, but she crossed the line.”

  “But it wasn’t the first time.”

  “She and Toussaint were together for what, a couple years?”

  “Off and on. He swears they were never an item. But personally, I like the girl, thought she’d make a good daughter-in-law. But Toussaint was adamant—either her or him.”

  “Like we’d choose …”

  “Right, but still. I just hope the settlement keeps her from filing a lawsuit. If that happened, this could get ugly.”

  “She’s bound by the document, which is sealed. If she breaks the terms and starts talking, then we’re the ones who will be suing.”

  Adam took a couple sips from the cup Candace had given him. “A hundred thousand dollars, and from Toussaint’s personal finances. I hope this Alison—”

  “Alexis.”

  “Alexis. I hope she’s worth it.”

  “If the redo she did of his place is any indication, she’s on the ball—a very talented woman.”

  “Yes, evidently in more ways than one.”

  “I invited him over for dinner tomorrow.”

  “Think he’ll come?”

  “I hope so, if for nothing more than to get a good meal. I’m so concerned …”

  “First time the boy’s heart has been broken. He’ll come around.”

  “Second time, actually,” Candace said, a bittersweet smile accompany the words. “The first time was when he was thirteen.”

  “That ain’t heartbreak then, Can. That’s just a hard knock.”

  “Not when you’re thirteen,” Candace responded softly. “Your son thought life was over … for about a week. Then, as I remember, some new girl came to town, and the girl he said he’d never forget was soon forgotten.”

  They laughed, and Candace rose to take the tray of empty dishes to the kitchen.

  “Here, Can.” Adam lifted his cup for her. When she took it, their fingers touched. She felt a tingle and knew that he felt it too. Their eyes met and held, just for a second. Candace shivered. Could it be? Is tonight the night I get to move back into the master suite? A second later, the electricity was gone. Adam stood abruptly. “I’m going to shoot a few holes on the golf course,” he said, walking away from his wife and the moment. “Don’t wait up.”

  Moments later, Adam was in his car headed to the golf course less than five minutes away. True, he’d needed the exercise, but even more he needed to get out of the house and clear his head. He could feel Candace tugging on him, knew she wanted him. He’d never paid attention to it before, Candace’s sex drive. Through the years, their sex had been average, but it had been regular. It went without saying that they screwed at least once a week. He’d thought that enough, had never dreamed that she was anything less than satisfied.

  But now Adam’s manhood had been called into question. Ever since his run-in with Quintin, where he’d taken in the tall body, ripped chest, and bulging arm muscles, Adam had viewed himself critically, wondering if he measured up. Pride and sheer willpower prevented him from asking Candace the obvious: Was that punk bigger than him, better? Did he have more stamina? Did he hit your spot? Do I? These are the thoughts Adam pondered as he reached for his clubs and began walking the familiar greens, which were tranquil and calming, like the breeze.

  He’d just teed off when his phone rang. Forgot to turn this thing off. When he saw the caller ID, however, he was glad he hadn’t missed the call. “Jon, how you doing?”

  “Fine, Adam. You?”

  “Good, man, I’m doing good. I’ll be doing even better if you have some news for me.”

  “Matter of fact, Adam, that’s why I called. That little situation you asked about? It’s been taken care of.”

  “There’s an out-of-business sale going on?” Adam asked, in code.

  “There will be by the end of the week.”

  “Well, I always love a bargain, man. Thanks for letting me know.”

  Adam turned off his phone and placed it in his bag. There was a lightness in his step as he walked to the first hole. He began to whistle, and anyone watching would have sworn his chest expanded. By the end of the week, a tiny bit of justice would have been delivered on the man who dared touch what belonged to him.

  It was after eleven when Adam pulled into the garage and placed his clubs in the storage unit. He’d run into a couple buddies and enjoyed a few drinks and laughs at the clubhouse. Even though tomorrow was a workday, Adam wasn’t ready to go to sleep. So after going to his room and taking a quick shower, he walked down the hall to the guest room at the end. He opened the door slowly and, after walking over to the bed, stared for a long moment at Candace, who slept peacefully.

  I’ve loved you for a long time, girl. I still do. He reached out, lightly touched her on the arm. “Candace.”

  Candace stirred, her eyes fluttered, and then she was wide awake. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is it Toussaint?”

  “No, it’s me,” Adam responded, reaching out and taking her hand. “Come to bed.”

  53

  Toussaint lay on the couch in his living room, exhausted yet unable to sleep. It had been this way for a week, since coming back to the Ritz from a wonderful dinner in Marina del Rey to find Alexis fleeing their suite because his wife had shown up.

  Where is she? he wondered for the umpteenth time. After searching the area for her to no avail, Toussaint had blown up her cell phone, leaving messages until her mailbox was full. Instead of the extended vacation he’d planned, he’d flown back to Atlanta the next day, with the others, and had driven straight to Alexis’s loft. Not only was there no answer to his incessant knocking and doorbell ringing, but also her car wasn’t there, and a little detective wor
k with the friendly older lady next door revealed that Alexis hadn’t been home in quite a while. Toussaint was beside himself.

  Shyla was gone, out of the company and out of his life. But he felt no better. He wondered what he’d ever seen in her, to mess around with her for so long. Yes, she was smart and beautiful, but so were dozens of other women in Atlanta. Ego, he’d finally decided. Ego and greed. From the time he’d gotten his heart broken at thirteen, Toussaint had filled his coffers with a multiplicity of women, rarely dating less than two or three at a time. He labeled himself honorable because he’d never lied to a woman, never told her that she was the only one or that he was faithful. To the contrary, he told them up front that he didn’t do serious, monogamous relationships, that he lived for the moment, for a good time. The women then decided whether they wanted to stay or go. Most stayed. In fact, they all had, until he tired of them, or they tired of waiting and moved on to a more available man.

  Toussaint rolled off the couch and went into the kitchen. When was the last time I ate? He couldn’t remember. He also couldn’t remember the last time he’d done what he’d done this week—take a hard, long look at himself in the mirror, examining his past and pondering his future. I’m thirty-two years old, and what do I have to show for my life? He was handsome, rich, had the trappings of success. But what did any of that matter at the end of the day if one wasn’t happy? He’d asked himself if he was really, truly happy with all that he owned and all that he managed. And the answer was no. Until he’d met Alexis, he hadn’t realized these things. Only with her had he experienced just what it meant to be not only happy, but also blissfully content. For once, his own satisfaction was not his primary concern. In the twenty-four hours of joy they’d shared in the hotel suite, her physical and emotional satisfaction was the priority, and his heart had soared knowing that his actions were the cause of her smile. He’d gotten past the defensive wall she’d built, a wall that he knew was erected as a result of the immense pain she’d felt over the loss of her father, the only man Toussaint felt she’d ever truly loved. And you. “Yes, and me.” Toussaint said these words matter-of-factly, not boastful, because he knew it to be true. She hadn’t said it, but no one could look at him the way she did, give of herself, to her very soul, the way she had, and not be in love with him.