Beyond the Velvet Rope

by Tiffany Ashley

  “Yeah, yeah.” His eyes suddenly brightened with interest. “Hey didn’t you go to the Marc Jacobs party last night?”

  Thandie stiffened. “Yes, why?”

  “I heard it got pretty wild. Did you see anything?”

  “No,” she said immediately. “Nothing out of the norm.”

  Craig shrugged. “Figures. I finally score an invite, and I can’t go because I’m working.” His beady eyes scanned her body. “You know, Thandie, you should really consider being my woman.”

  She folded her arms across her chest, and gave him her best no-nonsense expression.

  “I was just kidding,” he weakly.

  * * *

  Thandie placed a hand on her hip and said, “If you want a picture with Ruark, let’s get it over with. I want to wash my hands of him as soon as possible.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a team player to me.”

  “Get the camera, Craig.”

  They made their way back to the VIP area, where Ruarke was making a scene popping the cork off a bottle of champagne. After easing their way through a throng of curious onlookers, Thandie quickly made introductions. Ruarke smiled pleasantly, but when Craig asked for a picture, the actor tossed his head back and laughed.

  “Dude, I’m not taking pictures with another guy. I’m not gay.” He pulled Thandie to his side. “I’ll take a picture with Tammie here instead.”

  Craig’s disappointment was evident, but he eagerly agreed to take the photo. Just as Thandie had expected, Ruark used the photo opportunity to hold her unnecessarily close, even going as far as to kiss her on the mouth on one of the takes.

  It was going to be a very long night.

  * * *

  By the time Thandie got home, she felt as though she had been mauled. It was four o’clock in the morning when she unlocked the door to her loft apartment door. The lower level of her home doubled as her office, and the upper served as her personal living quarters.

  She had come a long way in her career. Before starting her own firm, she’d worked five years with Gage Ali. Gage was the director of public relations for one of New York’s top fashion houses.

  The years assisting Gage had been the most informative of her life. She’d met more celebrities than she ever dreamed possible and established many business contacts. Although demanding at times, Gage had been a thorough instructor. She had a strategy for every situation. Promoting Manhattan nightclubs was a far cry from managing press releases for a fashion company, but many of the same rules applied. One, keep your cool. Two, take control. And three, keep your cool. Due to her discipline, Thandie had rose quickly in her field. There was not a VIP lounge in the City she could not gain access to, and earn a generous commission while doing it.

  Thandie was thankful to Gage for guidance and found herself calling her mentor for advice when she faced an emergency. Gage always had the right answer. Gage had introduced her to just about everyone worth knowing, including her ex-boyfriend, Cam Stewart.

  Cam. It hurt every time she thought of him.

  They hadn’t spoken since she’d woken in his bed the previous morning. Thandie did not like to idea of him being upset with her, but it was probably best this way. Better they go their separate ways once and for all, instead of prolonging the inevitable.

  She climbed the steps leading to her bedroom. One of the girls had left a note on her pillow, a reminder of her massage appointment at ten. Thandie looked at her watch and groaned. Her appointment allowed her only five hours of sleep. She would love to reschedule, but her masseur was hard to book.

  Thandie eased into bed, fully clothed. She could smell cigarette smoke in her hair. She yearned to take a shower but was too tired. When she’d dropped Ruark Randall and his friends off at their hotel, Ruark had invited her up to his room to do ecstasy. She had to refuse five times before he got the point. She swore if she never saw the man again, it would be too soon. If she had the energy, she would vent her frustrations aloud, but in the grand scheme of things it didn’t really matter. In spite of for her frustration and weariness, Thandie loved her job. The satisfaction of hosting a successful event far outweighed the aggravation of babysitting spoiled A-listers. Besides, tomorrow night would involve another celebrity with a different story.

  Miami, Florida

  Elliot Richards slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He looked out over the crowded dance floor below. There, beautiful people swayed to loud techno music. Club Babylon was very much alive tonight. Babylon was his jewel, his mistress, his one true love. And his greatest accomplishment. What had begun as a thought was now reality. He’d spent years cultivating the idea, observing the industry, and building his knowledge. He was the man behind Club Babylon, the chic, multilevel dance club whose fame was growing by the minute.

  Elliot owned a string of businesses throughout Miami, but Babylon was his obesssion. He was heavily involved in all interactions. He managed a team of fifty workers, comprised mostly of dancers, bartenders and cleaning crews. It was a large undertaking. Mercifully, he did not do it alone. His management staff was the best in the business. He was fortunate to have them, however, very little was done without his approval. Elliot was known for his innovative marketing strategies and extensive knowledge of the industry. That being the case, his staff rarely moved on anything without his say-so. Between the operation of Babylon and his other enterprises, Elliot barely had enough time to sleep. But this was the life he had chosen. Even on the worst of days, he couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing.

  Elliot checked his watch. In another hour, he would be expected to make his rounds, offering complementary drinks to VIP members and hugging beautiful, tanned women. It was his job. As the owner, he was obligated to work the crowd. If there was one thing that made Miami different from other party cities, it was its well-connected night scene. Everyone on the strip wanted to say they knew someone important. It seemed to work out that a majority of the people who walked into Club Babylon claimed they were close friends with Elliot, and thus demanded star treatment. His staff had their hands full, catering to the wave of celebutantes who flooded his VIP lounges. Managing a thriving business required long nights and countless favors.

  However, there were advantages to being Elliot Richards. He’d been blessed with physical attributes most men could only dream of possessing. Elliot was tall, lean and handsome. His chiseled features were softened by an unusual combination of thick black hair and clear silver eyes.

  And Elliot had one more thing working in his favor—he was wealthy. A series of smart business investments made early in his career had paid off, and he now had a vast fortune. Because of his good looks and money, Elliot never had trouble attracting attention from members of the opposite sex.

  “Elliot, are you listening?”

  Elliot turned to his management team: Adam Parr, Markie Duran, Rex Barrington, Eddie Bloom and Tom Comber. They were all looking at him expectantly.

  “Yes, I heard you, Rex,” Elliot said in his low, untroubled voice. He moved to face his director of marketing. “I agree. We need to push the marketing campaign for the grand opening.”

  “Everyone loves the changes,” Rex offered, “but if we want to hit the numbers that the renovation was geared for, we need to decide how we want to do it.”

  Elliot nodded. He knew Rex was right. Rex was his director of marketing. The club needed a serious marketing push, and he had his hands tied with other projects.

  Elliot inclined his head to his general manager. “Markie, your thoughts?”

  Markie’s ears perked up. “I know we’ve all been busy trying to make sure we had all the supplies needed to open our doors on the scheduled date, but now that day is passed. We should focus on how we’re going to keep the club full. As it stands, we’re hitting good numbers because people are curious about the remodel. But that won’t last long.”

  Eddie Bloom, the efficiency expert, spoke up. “Elliot, you bankrolled a lot of money into renovatin
g the club. If you plan to recoup your funds, we need to do some serious marketing. Otherwise, the investment goes unnoticed.”

  Elliot nodded. “Our campaign needs help.” He turned to look down at the crowd again. A lovely blonde woman hovered near the bar. She’d come with a date. A boyfriend? A husband, perhaps? It didn’t matter. Neither would be much of an obstacle. “We need to hire a PR firm,” Elliot mused aloud. “A well-known professional.”

  Rex clapped his hands together. “Good idea. Perhaps someone who has connections up north? This would be the perfect opportunity to expand Babylon’s reach beyond SoBe.”

  Elliot turned to address his team. “Is everyone in agreement?”

  They all nodded.

  “So, it’s settled,” Elliot said with finality. “Rex, call Warren and tell him I’m leaving the promoter assignment up to him. That way, if the investors aren’t happy with the results, they can point the finger at each other.” The men laughed collectively.

  Elliot pulled himself upright, smoothing his palm over his suit lapel as he did so. “Gentlemen, if that’s all, please excuse me. I have something to attend to.”

  He waited until the last man filed out of his office before descending the staircase which led to the arena floor. It was time to make his rounds.

  Chapter Three

  Staten Island, New York

  Thandie carefully placed the bouquet of flowers on the counter and waited for someone to acknowledge her. As usual, she felt nervous. These visits were always filled with mixed emotions. She looked forward to them with the same intensity that she dreaded them.

  As if alerted to her growing sense of unease, a nurse materialized from a corridor. She was a heavy woman with wide hips, rosy cheeks and smooth pale skin. Her name was Nurse Joanne.

  As soon as she saw Thandie, her face split into a brilliant smile. “Ah, Thandie! I’m so glad you came. She’ll be so excited to see you.”

  Thandie’s face lit up with elation. “Has she been asking for me?”

  Nurse Joanne paused and then made a slight shake of her head. “No, dear, but I know deep down she’ll be thrilled you’re here.”

  Thandie’s initial joy vanished, quickly replaced with embarrassment. She felt foolish for having asked. It was silly to think her presence would be desired, least of all remembered. It had been this way for years. It was silly to expect anything anymore.

  “There there,” Nurse Joanne chided. “There’s no need in upsetting yourself. You’ll ruin your visit before it even begins.”

  Thandie gave a half-hearted smile.

  “That’s a good girl,” Nurse Joanne said reassuringly. “Now let’s get you upstairs. Did you sign in yet?”

  Thandie pulled the visitor log book in front of her and began filling in her information. Next to the date, she wrote the patient’s name: Josephine Shaw.

  After waving to the nurse, she made her way to the elevators, where she rode the lift to the second floor. The corridors on the upper level were abuzz with whispered conversations and occasional laughter. The environment was warm and inviting. This reassured Thandie she’d made the right decision years ago.

  Following the hall, Thandie arrived at room 216. The door was open, and inside the sunlit room sat a lone figure. Turning at the sound of someone entering the room, the woman lifted her head and gazed at Thandie.

  The sight of her face made Thandie catch her breath. Not yet fifty-five, Josephine could easily be mistaken for someone ten years younger. She was a small African American woman, with a heart shaped face and slender nose. Her dark hair was swept into an elegant bun at the nap of her neck and her soft brown eyes were bright with curiosity. Her lip quivered slightly when she smiled, making her smile all the more endearing. She was beautiful. Thandie had always believed she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

  Thandie approached her slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. She placed the flowers on a table and knelt before the woman. Taking her hand in her own, she kissed it before pressing it against her cheek. “Hello,” she cooed softly. “How do you feel today?”

  Josephine Shaw’s smile faltered just a little, but she managed to keep the grin in place. “I feel well,” she said pleasantly. “Thank you for asking.”

  Thandie could tell by the tone in her voice she was confused. “Do you know who I am?”

  Josephine peered at her closely. “You’re very pretty,” she whispered. Her eyes slid to the side, as if she were sifting through a multitude of emotions and memories. “What...what is your name?”

  It was a blow Thandie should be familiar with, but it hurt just as much now as it had the first time. Thandie blinked back tears and said evenly, “My name is Thandie Shaw. I’m your daughter. Do you remember me?”

  Her mother looked uncomfortable, and gripped her hand tightly. “I’m sorry,” she said with a helpless shake of her head. “I don’t remember your face.” She fidgeted, seeming to become agitated.

  Thandie patted her knee reassuringly. “Perhaps next time you’ll remember,” she promised. These were empty words, but they always seemed to have a calming affect on both of them.

  Every once in a while, her mother had a moment of clarity. She never remembered everything, but she remembered enough to know Thandie was her daughter. During those rare occasions, she stroked Thandie’s face and wept openly, apologizing for leaving her at such a young age. Thandie clung to those memories. They always ended with heartbreak, but for those brief moments, she had her mother back. However, they always ended too quickly, and she was left anxiously awaiting the next time her mother would return to her. But it had been over a year now, and she was beginning to lose hope.

  Thandie marveled at how much she favored her mother. They had the same shade of pale brown skin and long ink-black hair. Like her mother, her facial features were small and delicate, making her look younger than her twenty-eight years.

  But there where distinct differences. Chiefly amongst them was Thandie’s height. Measuring just a few inches shy of six feet, she was taller than most women. In contrast to her mother’s petite stature, Thandie had a long lean figure, with subtle curves.

  Abruptly, Josephine broke off mid-sentence and said, “When will Cam come to visit me?”

  Thandie lurched at the words and stared at her mother. The mention of Cam had always been a strange happening. He’d accompanied Thandie on these visits only a handful of times, but her mother had always remembered him. Even at her most cloudy moments, she would ask about Cam out of the blue. But this time there was a lift in her mother’s voice that startled her. She searched her mother’s face. There was a faint glimmer in her eyes. A glimmer of recollection?

  “Mom,” she said, suddenly desperate. “Cam won’t be visiting you anymore. We broke up. Do you recall me telling you that a few months ago?” She leaned forward, watching her mother’s every move.

  As if not hearing a word, Josephine gave a gentle laugh. “He’s such a dear. He brought me this shawl last week. Isn’t it lovely?”

  Thandie looked down at the worn piece of fabric wrapped around her mother’s shoulders. It was gray, made of soft cashmere. It was indeed a gift from Cam. A Christmas gift to be exact. He’d given it her two years earlier.

  Thandie began to deflate. Disorientation of time was another symptom of dementia. Thandie knew at that moment her mother had yet again retreated. She’d lost her. Like so many times before, Josephine Shaw had slipped away from her daughter when she needed her most.

  “Yes, Mom,” Thandie agreed. “It’s very lovely.”

  * * *

  Hours later, Thandie was back in her apartment. The visit with her mother had taken a lot out of her. Before leaving, she’d kissed her mother on the cheek and promised to return in the next few days. It was a pledge she always made, and always kept.

  There was a lot to be done, following last night’s event at Phenomenon. After taking a calming bath, Thandie set to work calling her contacts at local newspapers to find out how much covera
ge the party secured. Within half an hour, Thandie’s three assistants arrived: Amanda, Raja and Len. Without preamble, they quickly went about sending emails and making calls.

  Shortly after noon, the office phone rang and Amanda scooped it up. “Shaw Public Relations,” she said cheerily. “This is Amanda speaking.”

  “Thandie, please.”

  “Who’s calling?”

  “Tell her it’s Warren Radcliffe.”

  A moment later, Thandie was on the line. “Hello, stranger. I haven’t heard from you since you moved. Where are you?”

  “Miami,” he said, with a smile in his voice.

  “Miami? Why on earth would you ever leave New York?”

  “I ask myself that question every day.” He laughed. “But I have family down here. I moved to be closer to them in my old age.”

  “I don’t think you’ll ever be considered old, Warren. But Miami over NYC—it doesn’t sound logical.”

  “If you could see the sights I see every day, you would think differently.”

  She smiled. “That means there are a lot of half-naked women running around. Careful, Warren, you’ll have a heart attack.”

  Thandie had known the retired corporate CEO for years. They had met on the club scene. She met a lot of interesting people in her line of business, and Warren was by far one of the more memorable characters she’s ever come across. In his late sixties, the man had a weakness for the nightlife and young women. It was a flaw that had caused him to endure four divorces over the span of seven years. Shaky matrimonies never seemed to bother Warren. They only gave him a reason to party hardier, which eventually led to him marrying another young trophy wife.

  “How are you, Warren?”

  “I’m wonderful. I finally put my money where my heart lies.”

  She laughed. Where Warren was concerned, there was no telling what that statement meant. “I’m listening.”

  “I’m an investor in a club down here.”

  “Where, exactly?”

  “South Beach, of course. It’s awesome, Thandie.”