“This isn’t over,” Joyce whispered to Bernice once she’d sat down.
“I tried to warn you,” Bernice replied. She hadn’t agreed with her friend going after a married man but didn’t like to see her hurting either. “It’s all going to work out,” she said at last. “You’ll still get paid.”
“Oh, you don’t know the half. There’s no way I’m going to work my ass off to help him get launched and then get tossed out like yesterday’s newspaper.”
Bernice saw Malcolm’s assistant stop and talk to him. She spoke hurriedly, wanting to finish before the woman came to take her seat. “Maybe you shouldn’t make this trip,” she whispered. “Seeing them together isn’t going to make you feel better. Her getting all the glory while the cameras roll.”
“She might be on one arm, but I’ll be on the other,” Joyce said, her voice determined. “I’m not going to give Victoria her husband back. She’s going to have to take him.”
66
Toussaint winked at Alexis, who watched from the other side of the room. It was ironic that both he and Malcolm were taping their inaugural shows the same week. Malcolm had beat him to the company jet, but in celebration of the show, Toussaint had chartered a private jet for the trip to New York, with plans to stop back through the Poconos for a romantic weekend before returning to Atlanta. His aunt was well aware of the long-standing rivalry between brothers, which was why Toussaint hadn’t hesitated to let her know he wanted his show to air before Malcolm’s did. Fortunately for Diane, scheduling was totally out of her hands. As it was, Malcolm’s show was airing live, while Toussaint’s show was airing next week, in a special time slot following the popular show Throwdown with Bobby Flay.
“We’re ready, Mr. Livingston” the cute, blond producer announced. She’d been flirting with Toussaint ever since they’d met, in love-at-first-sight with him just as all of the viewers would hopefully be.
“Mr. Bouvier?” she called out to Oliver, who paced nervously on the side of the set, looking like a supersized culinary genius in his stark white jacket and chef’s hat. “Remember what we talked about. Just be yourself—relaxed, conversational. This is when you’re going to ask everyday viewers to come into their homes and cook in their kitchens. Make sure you convey someone they want to meet.”
Toussaint rolled his neck to relax. The makeup artist came over to dab him one last time. The show producer counted them down, and he began. “Hello, America. My name is Toussaint Livingston, and I want to come cook at your house.”
The producers all stood amazed as they watched Toussaint work the camera as if he were a pro. Much as they’d felt when they saw Bobby Flay, Rachael Ray, and Paula Deen, they knew that Toussaint’s show was going to be a hit.
“Change the order from six to twelve shows,” the executive producer said at the end of the taping. “And double his contract—triple it if you have to. We want to lock this guy in and keep him around. He’s one of the next Food Network stars.”
When Malcolm entered the greenroom, everyone in there broke out in applause. Joyce stood slightly in front of the Livingston family, next to the producer she’d worked with for months, beaming like the proud … mistress. Malcolm walked over and hugged the producer before turning and giving Joyce a big, warm hug. “We did it,” he said when he raised his head.
His eyes conveyed a myriad of emotions that caused Joyce’s heart to flip-flop. I knew this was real. I knew that he loved me. The Livingston family’s unexpected appearance had caused Joyce’s world to teeter on its axis for a minute, but that hug had just helped life right itself. Her confidence was such that she even managed to smile at Victoria when Malcolm walked over and embraced his wife, mother, and rest of the family. Enjoy the moment, Victoria. It is going to be one of the last ones you share with your husband.
Before the end of the evening, QVC knew that a new star had been born. The night had been one of their most successful ever. The phone lines had jammed, and the initial order of smokers, one hundred and fifty thousand, had sold out within the hour. After five years of planning, two years of testing, and several months of bringing his dream to reality and then to the masses, Malcolm was an overnight success and a multimillionare.
Two weeks later, Diane and Ace joined Adam, Candace, Malcolm, Toussaint, Victoria, and Alexis for dinner. Adam had big news. “I got a call from the president of the bank this morning.”
Malcolm, who always kept one eye on the company’s bottom line, perked up instantly. “What did he say?”
“He said he liked your smoker infomercial, that he’d tried to order one but they were sold out.”
“What?” Diane said. “Mr. Bank President watches QVC?”
“And the Food Network, from the sound of things. Because, Toussaint, he knew about your show as well.”
“That’s crazy,” Toussaint mumbled. But he was pleased.
“So what did he call you to do?” Ace asked. “Congratulate you before we go into Chapter Eleven?”
“No,” Adam replied, his eyes twinkling. “He called to extend the line of credit we requested.” He looked with pride from one son to the other. “After seeing what he saw last night, or at least getting the information, he knows we’re good for it.”
Victoria held up her glass of juice. “To Malcolm and Toussaint!”
Everyone around the table picked up their glasses. “To the Livingstons,” Malcolm added.
Their glasses clinked. “Hear, hear!”
67
Adam and Candace sipped drinks in their master suite. It was a Wednesday night, but they were treating it like a Friday. In celebration of their sons’ success and of the renewed flame of their marriage, the couple had decided to take a quick trip to Vegas. Not only that, but with Christmas just two weeks away, she also knew it would be one of the last times she’d have her husband all to herself. Her in-laws practically lived with them during the holidays.
“Baby, Diane and I are planning a small party. Nothing major, just a small gathering of family and close friends.”
Adam grunted. He knew what happened when his wife and sister-in-law started planning things: His bank account took a serious hit. Which reminds me. Dang! I need to get those numbers for the accountant. With everything that had happened, Adam had totally forgotten about a meeting that had been scheduled for weeks. The accountant and Adam’s assistant would do most of the work, but there were some receipts and line items that he wanted to go over, just to be prepared.
He finished his drink and stood. “Baby, I’ll be right back. I have to go to the office.”
“Now? Baby, it’s nine o’clock.”
“I know, but we’re leaving first thing in the morning. But there are a couple of items I want to get to peruse on the flight. I’ve got a meeting with the accountant as soon as we get back. You don’t want Uncle Sam riding my ass, now, do you?”
“You know I want to be the only one riding that” Candace replied with a grin. “But can’t Ace get them for you and give them to our guy tomorrow?”
“Probably, but I’ll feel more comfortable doing it myself. That way, I know it’s done and can have my mind clear when I sit down at that blackjack table tomorrow.”
“Okay, baby. Well, since you’re going out, can you stop by the restaurant and get some sweet potato ice cream?”
“Sure, but you know”—Adam lightly kissed Candace’s lips—”you”—kiss on the right cheek—”are”—kiss on the left cheek—”all the sweetness”—kiss on the nose—”this brothah needs.” Adam got ready to turn, but Candace cupped his face and planted a sloppy wet kiss on the man she loved. She began to grind herself against him as she rubbed his back.
“Hmmm, baby, keep that kitty hot for Big Daddy,” Adam moaned as he gently took her arms from around his neck. “I’ll be back in about thirty minutes. And then there’s a thing or two I’m going to do with that ice cream.”
“Mmm, I can’t wait.” Candace walked him to the door and then went to take a long, hot shower and wait
for her man.
Adam and Candace lived just ten minutes from the office, but he broke a few speed limits and got there in five. He felt better than he’d felt in months, since the first time his burning dick had alerted him to a problem. The credit belonged to Candace for helping him get his manhood back. Adam’s confidence had been admittedly rocked following her infidelity, but now he and his wife’s sex life was better than ever. Adam walked to the office, retrieved what he needed, and walked to his car humming the latest song they’d added to the Taste of Soul jukebox—Bobby Womack’s “Woman’s Gotta Have It.”
“I told you I’d get you, muthafucka.” That’s the only thing Adam Livingston heard before he heard the shot, felt the pain, and fell to the ground.
Candace frowned at the sound of the doorbell. She looked at her watch and was surprised to see that it was ten o’clock. She’d stayed in the bath longer than she’d intended. Who’s at the door at this time of night? And where’s Adam?
Her frown increased along with her heartbeat when she looked through the peephole and saw two uniformed cops. “Yes?” she said, after opening the door.
“Mrs. Livingston?” the older, silver-haired cop asked.
“Yes.”
“Candace Livingston?” the younger cop prodded.
“Yes, I’m Candace Livingston. What is going on?”
“We need you to accompany us to the hospital.”
“Hospital?” Candace asked, her hand going to her throat. “Why, what’s happened? What’s this about?”
“It’s about your husband, ma’am. Adam Livingston. He’s been shot.”
68
Victoria sat naked astride Malcolm. She luxuriated in the feel of his skin as she massaged his back and shoulders. For the past two weeks, since reconnecting with her husband and since he’d moved back into the master suite, she’d tried to figure out how she’d lived without him, without this. She’d beat herself up for the time they’d wasted, merely existing in the same household instead of living as man and wife. Perhaps that’s why she reached for him every night, making the first move, letting him know she wanted him.
She slid off his back and continued rubbing the massage oil over his body. Malcolm wasn’t lean and firm, like Toussaint. He was shorter, stockier, with growing love handles. But she loved every inch of him, just the way he was. “Okay, I’m done,” she whispered into his ear. “Feel better?”
Malcolm turned over. The evidence of how he felt stuck up straight in the air. Victoria immediately went to work, doing the thing she didn’t particularly care for but her husband loved. She licked his throbbing manhood before taking it into her mouth and was immediately rewarded with a loud hissing. Within minutes, Malcolm rolled over. “Get on your knees, Victoria. I want you doggy style.”
Victoria turned and grabbed the headboard. Malcolm reached between her legs, stimulating her clit. She took his manhood and guided it toward her entrance. “Now, Malcolm, please. I don’t want to wait.”
“Me neither,” he said as he slowly slipped inside her.
Victoria moaned as happy tears hovered at the sides of her eyes. Malcolm held on to her hips and deepened his thrusts. They settled into a nice, steady rhythm. And then the phone rang.
“Let’s not answer it,” Victoria panted. It’s probably Mom. Valarie had an uncanny ability to call just in time to interrupt an intimate moment. Not this time, Mom. Not this time.
Shortly after the phone stopped ringing, it began again, followed by the ding of Malcolm’s cell phone.
“Maybe I should answer it,” Malcolm said, still stroking slowly. “It might be important.”
“What can’t wait until we’re done?” Victoria asked reaching behind her for Malcolm’s hand and placing it on her breasts.
Both phones stopped ringing and then immediately began again. At the same time, there was an urgent knock on the door. “Mrs. Livingston?”
Malcolm pulled out and sat up at the same time. “Wait. Something’s wrong.” He bounded out of bed and stood just on the other side of the door. “Maria, what is it?”
“Your brother’s calling. He says it’s urgent.”
Victoria immediately picked up the phone. The color left her face as she listened to Toussaint. She swung her legs over the bed as she hung up the phone. “We have to get to the hospital.”
“What happened?” Malcolm asked, reaching for the pants he’d left beside the bed.
“It’s your dad. He’s in surgery.”
“Surgery? Why?”
“Toussaint wouldn’t tell me. He just said get there. Fast.”
69
Zoe walked to her office door and closed it. She was still getting used to the fact that she even had an office and was thankful for the privacy it afforded.
“Chardonnay, this is Zoe,” she said when her friend answered the phone. “Girl, what is going on with you? I’ve been leaving messages and blowing up your phone. I heard that you were the one who found Adam? I can’t believe you haven’t called!” It had been three days, and Zoe was still in shock. To hear that someone she knew had almost been killed during a robbery was one thing, but to hear that it happened in the parking lot of the place she worked was something else.
“I’ve been busy,” Chardonnay snipped, mad that she’d answered the call.
“I can imagine. Since you’re the one who called nine-one-one. Are you helping with the investigation, being interviewed about what you saw?”
“Something like that.”
“I can’t believe it. And Adam Livingston of all people, someone who is always trying to help us. That’s how it always happens, bad things happening to good people.”
Chardonnay snorted.
Zoe frowned. “Chardonnay, what’s the matter?”
“Oh, please. Like you don’t know? How long did you think it would take for me to find out you’ve hooked up with Bobby?”
A full beat went by before Zoe responded. “You know what? I’m going to act like I didn’t even hear you come at me like I’m not your best friend, accusing me of something without even asking if it’s true.”
“Okay. Is it true you were at some political fund-raiser, getting your grind on with my ex?”
“Oh, so Bobby’s your ex now? I thought he was just another f-ing partner.”
“I knew all along you liked him. Y’all were probably even fucking when he was with me! You’re scandalous.”
“No, what’s scandalous is that you would accuse me of something without finding out the facts. But that’s not even the main thing. The main thing is you don’t give a damn about Bobby yet you’re willing to jeopardize our friendship over some bullshit.”
“Well, check this out, tramp. I’m pregnant. With his baby. So I’m still going to end up with his big dick.”
“You know what, Chardonnay, this phone call is over.”
“Yeah, whatever, bitch.”
Zoe’s mouth flew open as she stared at the phone. Did she just call me the b-word? “No, she did not just call me a bitch. And she did not just hang up on me!” Zoe couldn’t get to her keys fast enough. She was heading over to the restaurant where it was about to go down!
She was moving so fast that she almost ran over Drake, who was getting off the elevator just as she was getting on. “Zoe, I’m glad I caught you. Come on back. We need to talk.”
“Can it wait, Drake? There’s, uh, something I need to take care of.”
“Sorry, Zoe, but no. Ace has called an emergency meeting. The entire company. We’re meeting in the boardroom in ten minutes. Come on.”
Zoe attended the meeting, and afterward, too drained to confront Chardonnay, she went straight home. When her phone rang several hours later, she said yes to the invite. Any other time, she probably wouldn’t have. But today, too much had happened for her to be alone.
Bobby’s hard, round ass was poised in the air, bouncing up and down like a basketball. He grunted with every thrust. “Umph. Umph. Umph. Umph.” He moved to the side and went in deeper
as he slowed his movements to a leisurely groove, bringing his dick out to the tip and then easing it back inside. “Umph. Is this good? Umph. Yeah, I had a feeling you would like it like this.”
“Yeah, just like that … mmm, slow feels good.”
“Umph. Take this big dick, then. Take it!” Bobby’s thrusts increased. He squeezed the hips in front on him and pounded with all his might. When his orgasm came, it was fierce and strong, causing him to shout out his release before collapsing on the bed.
“Damn, that was incredible,” Jon said, flopping on the bed beside Bobby. “I don’t want anyone else to have you.”
“Fuck that. I told you I’m not gay.”
“Not because you’re gay. I know you like women too. I want exclusivity, so that you can be mine. I’ll make it worth your while, Bobby. With me, you’ll go far. You’ll go all the way to the top.”
Bobby was stiff at first, but after a moment he took a deep breath and allowed himself to relax in Jon Abernathy’s arms.
Zoe relaxed, too, as she watched the men skate faster and clamber around a hard, black puck. She didn’t know if hockey would ever be her thing, and she preferred wine to the cold beer she now sipped. But as Drake Benson slipped an arm around her shoulders, Zoe nestled into his side and began to rethink her preference for dark meat.
70
She read it, but she couldn’t believe it. Shyla sat at an ocean-front café, in Ocho Rios, Jamaica, where she’d been for the past month. She’d needed time and space away from Toussaint and the Livingston Corporation to help heal her heart and clear her head. She’d gotten a good price on a six-week rental and now wished she could have it for longer. She loved the island life, much more than she’d expected, and had experienced a peace that was almost blissful. Until it was shattered with the arrival of a Fed Ex package from her mom.
All Up In My Business Page 26
