All Up In My Business

by Lutishia Lovely

  “And what was with that ‘baby-making machine’ comment?” Candace asked. “To hear her tell it, Victoria’s pregnancy was all Malcolm’s fault. Hell, it takes two to make a baby, which, since she’s had one, she should know.”

  “I don’t know, sis. Since she thinks she walks on water, she might also believe that Vickie came here by way of immaculate conception.”

  “Maybe I’m being too hard on her. She’s still upset at Malcolm for missing the childbirth, and I can understand that.” Candace pushed the saucer of half-eaten cake away from her and reached for the glass of sparkling water. “At least the baby’s healthy.”

  “And already looks like Malcolm spit her out. Did he ever tell you where he was that night, and why we couldn’t get a hold of him?”

  “No, but I have an idea.” Candace sighed, thinking about the son she had thought the least likely to stray yet was MIA when his daughter was being born. She knew she was the last person to talk to someone else about cheating, but Malcolm was her son, his marriage was in trouble, and Candace would bet her house that Joyce was ready and waiting in the wings. Sooner or later, they’d have to have a conversation.

  “I sure hope you’re not thinking what I’m thinking.”

  “Let’s just say that he’s more like his mother than she realized.”

  “Dear, don’t you think you should lie down?” Mrs. Saunders cast a cautious eye on her daughter as she sipped her tea in ladylike fashion, pinkie high in the air.

  “I’m okay,” Victoria replied. “I spent so much time on bed rest, it feels good to enjoy my living room.”

  “Still, you don’t want to tire yourself out. Having a baby is no small feat.”

  “I know, Mom. I’ve had five, remember?”

  “How can I forget?” Valarie’s expression resembled someone who smelled rotting cabbage. “Married to a cheating scoundrel. A mongrel. If divorce weren’t so public, and humiliating …”

  “Mom, let’s not go there. I’ve talked to Malcolm, and he swears he hasn’t been unfaithful.”

  “And you believe him? Victoria, I was not aware that I had raised a fool.”

  “There’s a lot of things you’re not aware of, Mom.” Like how I alienated my husband by revolving my life around my children and the church. True, he hadn’t been there for Victory’s birth, but she hadn’t been a real wife, a wholly participating partner, for years.

  “On second thought, I think I will go lie down for a while. The baby’s asleep, and now I find myself more tired than I thought. It’ll only be a catnap. You’re welcome to stay.”

  “And cavort with the enemy? I don’t think so.”

  “Mom, it wouldn’t hurt for you to try and be friendly to Candace and her sister. Whether you like it or not, they’re family. After more than a decade of me being married, you should know that that isn’t going to change.”

  “One can always hope,” Valarie mumbled as she straightened out a nonexistent wrinkle. “Oh, by the way, Victoria, the nurse will be arriving this afternoon.”

  “Mom, I thought I told you that wasn’t necessary. Between the housekeeper and the nannies, I’ll manage just fine.”

  “That may be true, dear, but I’ll feel better with Doris here. You’ve had surgery. I don’t want to take any chances.” Valarie had known Doris for years. She was an excellent nurse. She was an excellent snoop as well and had been enlisted to find out exactly what was going on in her daughter’s house.

  Victoria hugged her mother, too tired to argue. She was tired about a lot of things in her life, especially her mother’s overbearing attitude. But Victoria silently vowed that as soon as she was back on her feet, a change was going to come.

  For now, the drama between the women upstairs had ended. But downstairs, in Malcolm’s beloved man cave, it had just begun.

  “You know she tried to fuck me, don’t you?” Adam rarely used this type of language, unless he was very angry. With Malcolm having just come clean with where he was the night his daughter was born, now was one of those times.

  “Joyce told me that harmless flirting is all that happened between you.”

  “And you believed her? Joyce is determined to get to the top, by any means necessary. She evidently decided to climb the Livingston ladder, and when she couldn’t secure her footing on the father’s rung, she moved to the son.”

  “Why can’t you just believe she loves me, Dad?”

  “I don’t give a damn what she’s telling you, boy. You’re getting ready to throw away over fifty years of history and three generations of legacy for some strange poontang. I’m telling you, son, it ain’t worth it.” Adam came precariously close to saying “Ask your mama” but stopped himself just in time.

  Malcolm rolled a cigar between the balls of his fingers before methodically snipping off the end and lighting it. “So I should just spend the next thirty, forty years of my life being unhappy?”

  “You should spend the rest of your life being faithful to your wife. How you feel while you’re doing that is up to you.”

  58

  Alexis nervously twirled a loc as she sat perched at the bar, sipping a strawberry daiquiri and watching the cook entertain the crowd. When Jon had suggested they meet at Taste of Soul, Alexis had initially refused. She didn’t want to take any chances on seeing Toussaint—or, if she was being honest with herself, having him find out she’d dined with Jon. But then she changed her mind. What did she care if Toussaint found out about it? It might even be advantageous, she’d reasoned. He’d know that she had moved on.

  Now that she was here, however, she was having second thoughts. The truth was, she missed Toussaint, terribly. And what Diane told her was weighing heavily on her mind. She’d talk to Toussaint one day, when she was stronger. But not now. Enough already! Quit thinking about him! Determined to refocus, Alexis looked around the room. She liked how Taste of Soul had been remodeled, how a wall had been torn down to allow those at the bar waiting to be seated to see the chef and line cook in action at the meat station. The cook, a wiry young man with a flashy white smile, effortlessly flipped two large cleavers, before bringing them down on the marble counter and slicing through a slab of ribs with synchronized precision. The audience clapped, nodded, and murmured appreciatively as he plated the succulent meat, sprinkled on wisps of fennel tops, and, with a flourish, presented the dish to the waiting customer. He’s good! Alexis’s spirits felt lighter as she spun back around to the bar counter and reached for her drink. And then she quickly spun back around. That’s Bobby! Wow. With the chef hat, new pearly whites, and entertaining flair, she hadn’t recognized him.

  “I’ve missed that smile.” Jon walked up to Alexis and placed a kiss on her temple.

  “Jon! Hi.” Alexis leaned into Jon’s welcoming embrace and kissed him on the cheek. “Good to see you.”

  “Is it?” Jon, debonair as always, wore a dark navy suit, white shirt, and striped tie, looking ready to go to the office or speak at a function even though it was a Saturday afternoon. “What are you drinking?” he asked Alexis. “A daiquiri, want one?”

  “Naw, that’s a girl’s drink.” Jon placed his order, and after receiving it, turned and watched the show happening over at the meat station.

  “Wow, wouldn’t want to meet up with Bobby in a dark alley,” Jon said, sipping his Seagram’s 7. “He’s dangerous with those knives.”

  “Yes, but he’s a sweetheart, quite skilled. And look at those muscles,” Alexis continued as Bobby hoisted a hefty piece of beef onto a hook before slicing paper-thin strips that fell into a decorative mound on a plate below. “Surprising in one so … compact.”

  “You don’t have to be six feet to be strong,” Jon said, a pointed reference to the reason his and Alexis’s communication had been interrupted.

  “You are absolutely right about that, Jon Abernathy,” Alexis replied, adding a touch of seductiveness to her voice. “Good things come in small packages, right?”

  Jon sipped his drink and eyed Alexis thoughtf
ully. “So, Alexis St. Clair, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company? Like I said when you called, I was surprised to hear from you. Thought that since the project was finished, and you were all hot and heavy with Toussaint Livingston, our friendship was over.”

  “I don’t ever think we can have too many friends. Do you?”

  “Depends …”

  “Give any more thought to the outdoor living space?”

  “Sounds good, but I’m not interested. I’ve heard that you don’t date your clients.”

  “That’s true, Jon. But there’s an exception for every rule.”

  There was a bit of an awkward silence, interrupted by the hostess who came over and told Alexis that their table was ready. Jon caught Bobby’s eye, lifted his glass while giving an appreciative nod, and followed the hostess to their table.

  After they’d placed their orders, Alexis began the spiel she’d planned since getting on the plane in St. Louis the Tuesday before. “Jon, there is a reason I invited you here.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I owe you an apology.”

  “For what?”

  “The way I ended things with us.”

  “There was no ‘us,’ Alexis. We went out on a couple dates, that’s all—actually only one that wasn’t work related. You finished the project and moved on. Yes, I was hoping something more might develop but … looks like that wasn’t in the cards.”

  Alexis took a drink of water and waited until the salads had been set on the table. She picked up a fork and picked through the lettuce. “That’s just it,” she continued softly. “I’ve been working with that deck of cards and … was wondering if there was any way they could be reshuffled.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Toussaint and I aren’t dating anymore.”

  Jon’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “Oh, I see.” He placed the bite in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “What happened?”

  “Nothing I want to relive, or discuss. Let’s just say that the Livingston lifestyle is too complicated. I don’t like drama, Jon. I give my heart fully when I’m interested in someone and want to know they do the same. I went back home for a little while, thought a lot about my priorities and what I want out of life. I have a great career, love my work, but I’ve finally admitted to myself that work is not enough. I want someone to share the good times with as well. And that’s when I started thinking about the man that you are—kind, considerate, smart, successful …”

  “Safe? I don’t strike you as the type of man who has a gaggle of women chasing him? Like your boy Toussaint?”

  “I, well, uh, no, Jon, it’s not like that. You’re an influential political figure, a force to be reckoned with, here in Atlanta and elsewhere. I’m sure you have no lack of suitors. But you strike me as a man with integrity, a man who is loyal. I know it was short, but I enjoyed the time I spent with you … and, well, I’m putting my cards on the table. I’d like to start seeing you again.”

  “Wow, what can I say? You’re full of surprises, Alexis St. Clair.”

  The waiter delivered their rib platters, and while they ate, the conversation flowed to other topics—Alexis’s visit to St. Louis and Jon’s recent trip to D.C. Jon laughed at Alexis’s recounting of how she “designed on a dime” and transformed her mother’s modest apartment with bargain finds. Alexis appreciated Jon’s sharing his lobbying in Washington, working to get some of the stimulus money distributed in Atlanta’s innercity schools. They both praised the succulent ribs they ate, which were perfectly complemented with Macaroni and Chubby Checker Cheese and Sam Cooked Green Beans. Conversation continued to flow smoothly as Alexis marveled at the flakiness of her peach cobbler’s crust while Jon groaned his pleasure at the sweet potato pie.

  An hour and a half later, two very full customers walked to the parking lot. Jon walked Alexis to her Infiniti, which was parked only three spaces down from his BMW.

  “So,” Alexis said after giving Jon a long hug. “You never did answer my question. Can I shuffle my deck of cards so that we can start seeing each other again?”

  “Well, Alexis,” Jon began slowly, and for the first time Alexis felt a slight trepidation. “I’m flattered that you’ve asked me. But the truth is, right now somebody else is playing that hand.”

  Alexis was stunned. Fifteen minutes later, as she pulled into her loft’s parking area, she still reeled. That Jon would turn down her request to date had never entered her mind. True, she didn’t know him all that well, but she’d gotten the impression that political functions notwithstanding, his was a fairly mundane lifestyle. That, like her, he was mostly all work and no play. Yes, part of the reason she’d thought to date him right away was to get Toussaint out of her mind, but the more she’d thought about it, the more she’d believed someone like Jon Abernathy was the perfect person for her, the type of man with whom she could feel safe and protected—the way she had felt when her father was alive.

  She got out of the car, walked to the elevator, punched the button. Now what am I going to do?

  59

  The elevator came and Alexis stepped inside, feeling more lost than she had when she’d stepped into the Ritz-Carlton master suite and saw Shyla Martin lounging in the bed where Alexis and Toussaint had made passionate love merely hours before. Head down, she was subdued as she walked to her door. Spending the night alone, in her empty house, was not something she looked forward to. She hesitated at her front door, key in hand. Maybe I should go to a movie, she thought. That’s what I’ll do. I’m not ready to go inside yet. Alexis turned, and jumped.

  “Hey, baby.” Toussaint stepped out from the column at the end of the hall. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Toussaint!” Alexis clutched her throat, having almost come out of her skin at the sound of his voice. Anger quickly replaced fear and covered the instant heat Alexis had felt at the sight of him. “What do you think you’re doing? You scared me half to death.”

  Toussaint stopped a few feet from her. He wanted to crush her in his arms, wanted to kiss that succulent mouth that he’d dreamed of all week. But he held himself in check. My baby. How I’ve missed you.

  “You haven’t returned my calls.”

  “Yeah, well, that ought to tell you something.” Having recovered, Alexis brushed past him and walked briskly to the elevator. Toussaint effortlessly fell into step beside her, her hurried steps no match for his long strides.

  “I’ve missed you, Alexis. There’s so much I want to say.”

  “I think Shyla in our suite said it all, don’t you think?”

  “What it said was that I hadn’t effectively ended that relationship. That she hadn’t gotten the message, hadn’t understood it when I told her that she and I were finished.”

  “Well, was she still half naked when you went back to the suite and had the conversation?” Alexis hissed as the elevator doors opened and she hurried inside. She was more than thankful that her ire kept her mouth from watering at the sight of Toussaint’s lips or from licking the cleft in his chin. When she got to her car, she pressed the unlock button on her key fob, knowing that if she could just get inside her car and close the door, she’d prevent herself from doing something stupid, like throwing herself into his arms.

  “Wait,” Toussaint demanded, placing his hand on the glass and preventing Alexis from closing the door. “I want to talk to you, Alexis. Don’t you think I at least deserve to tell my side of the story, to tell you what happened in LA and, more importantly, what happened when I got back to Atlanta?”

  Alexis slumped back in the seat. “I know you fired Shyla,” she said, sighing.

  “Then you know that she is out of my life, in every way.” Toussaint’s heart leaped, and he felt a glimmer of hope that he’d get things back on track with the woman he loved.

  “I’m late,” Alexis said, starting the car. Her emotions were roiling. She needed time and space away from Toussaint. Where she could think. And breathe.

  “
So just like that, you’re going to drive away. Even though I’ve tried nonstop for seven straight days to reach you and am wearing my heart on my sleeve?”

  Alexis put the car into gear. She took a deep breath and looked up into Toussaint’s chocolate, bedroom eyes. For the first time, she noticed a wisp of a mustache. Great, so he can look even more fine. “Can I close my door, please?”

  Toussaint looked at her for another moment, then stepped back and allowed the door to close.

  Alexis backed out of her space. She looked in her rearview mirror and saw Toussaint’s folded arms and wide-legged stance as he watched her drive away. She almost made it to the parking structure exit before she stopped, put the car in reverse, and backed up to where her lover still stood. She rolled down her window with quiet resignation. “You want to go see a movie?”

  They didn’t get to the movies. Instead, Toussaint directed them to a quiet bar in the area. There he poured his heart out, telling her how he’d turned the hotel upside down until he’d gotten to the bottom of how Shyla ended up in his room. How the concierge worker had been fired and how management heads had rolled. He told her how he’d talked with Ace that very evening, and by the time he’d returned to Atlanta, he had Shyla’s severance package ready. How he’d presented it to her the following Monday in a take-it-or-leave it, one-sided conversation, where there was no room for discussion or compromise.

  “Your aunt was right. I should have talked to you immediately, listened to your side of the story. But I was so hurt.”

  “Of course you were. I can’t imagine how you felt, walking in and finding Shyla in the same bed we’d shared just hours before. Given my history, your assumption was wrong, but it was justified.”

  “I’m sorry, Toussaint.”

  Finally, Toussaint felt it okay to leave his side of the booth and sit next to Alexis.

  “I’ve missed you, baby,” he said, gently stroking her cheek. “I’ve missed you too.”