“Man, forget you,” Jerome said as he backed away. “I was just trying to be nice because you’re new in the neighborhood and I thought you might need a friend.”
“Hmph. With friends like you I certainly wouldn’t need any enemies,” Dior said angrily. “Miss Margie,” she said, turning to the woman in the window, “I’m sorry. I’ll give you the twenty back in the rent check like you said.”
“Okay, dear. And don’t worry about Jerome. He’s stupid but he’s harmless. Just don’t give him any more of your time and he’ll soon be leaving you alone. And just put him in his place one good time and you won’t have any problems. That girl in unit three chewed him out so bad you can bet he won’t ever say another word to her again. You just need to get a little more spunk in you. Not that’s it none of my business. Not my business at all.”
That fool has some nerve, Dior thought when she walked back into the house. Angry as she was, though, she couldn’t stay mad long as she looked at her new furniture. Her new apartment was looking more and more like home. She sat down on her new bed and smiled. It sure would be good to break this in right. This was possibly her time and Chris was possibly her match.
When she powered up her laptop later to check her bank account balance online, she noticed that she had a couple of messages from Mr. Good Black Man 2008, and that his online now icon was blinking. She turned off the computer without reading the messages and went to bed.
Chris arrived at Dior’s door at seven o’clock on the nose. Looking quite debonair in a tasteful pair of Rock & Republic jeans, a black sweater, and a pair of black and white Gucci sneakers, plus bearing a box of chocolates, he definitely got the date started off on the right foot. Dior greeted Chris with a kiss on the cheek as she took the chocolates off his hands. She invited him in just so that he wouldn’t have to stand in the cold while she touched up her makeup and put on her coat. He sat on her new sofa and waited patiently for her, commenting, from time to time, on how nice she had decorated since he had been there the day before.
Chris opened the door for Dior and escorted her inside his 2008 Cadillac Escalade. He then walked around the back of the car and got in the driver’s seat. He was being a perfect gentleman. Dior was pleased. The two drove through the busy Saturday night Manhattan traffic, making stops, at Nobu’s for dinner, the Belasco Theatre to preview a play, and Serendipity’s for dessert, finally ending their night on the town at Pacha Nightclub for a drink and a dance.
Choosing to go to various spots was Chris’s way of showing Dior several parts of the city and entertaining her at the same time, and Dior was more than satisfied as that was the most fun she’d had in a long time. At one point she almost suggested that they go to MoBay’s since she still hadn’t made it to the jazz club, but quickly decided against it. Stupid as it sounded she felt like that would be cheating on Mr. Good Black Man 2008 since that was the club he recommended.
Throughout the evening Chris and Dior laughed and conversed and learned a lot about one another. As the time wound down, neither of them wanted the date to end, especially not Dior, who, instead of kissing Chris good-bye once they arrived at her apartment, invited him inside.
Dior was tipsy and still up for a good time, so she figured it wouldn’t hurt to have him come in for an hour or two. Unbelievably attractive, well groomed, well mannered, well rounded, and apparently well off, Chris was everything she could want in a man.
Dior took off her coat, with Chris’s assistance, and hung it in her closet. She took Chris’s leather blazer and hung it up, too. The two sat on the sofa and stared into each other’s eyes for a moment.
“You are so beautiful,” Chris said, eyes glassy from the numerous Grey Goose martinis he’d had at the club.
“It’s funny, I hear that a lot from guys, but hearing it from you, I got all tingly inside just now,” Dior responded with a blush, playfully hitting Chris on his knee.
Just then, Chris leaned in and kissed Dior on her lips. She returned the kiss and the next thing Dior knew, her hand was rubbing Chris’s thigh and his hands were rubbing hers. They were kissing and feeling each other’s body parts and before long, they had made their way into Dior’s bedroom and were breaking in her new bed.
Dior was in fairyland as she hadn’t had any in a long time and Chris lived up to his massive sex appeal. He was as great in bed as he was to look at, maybe greater. When they were done, Dior was wide open. She helped him put on his boots and everything. She even flushed the condom down the toilet for him.
After about a half hour, Chris and Dior parted ways. It was close to five in the morning when she walked him outside. He bent down and kissed her once more, then walked to his car, which was parked up the block. Dior went back inside her apartment and closed her door. She leaned up against it, folding her arms over her chest, and exhaling with a huge smile on her face as if she were in love.
She glanced around at her furnished apartment and thought back on the amazing sex she had just had with the equally amazing man and she patted herself on the back. This was a good week, she thought to herself. The furniture and Chris were both a perfect fit.
Dior was both exhilarated and scared witless as she sat in the conference room. She and two other senior copywriters had made their presentations in front of the company brass the day before, and it was her campaign that the company had decided to go with. Now her insides were doing jumping jacks as she waited to make the presentation in front of her movie idol.
Just deny it was me, she reminded herself over and over again. And maybe he won’t even remember me. I’m sure I’m not the only girl whose chest he’s signed.
Larissa brought a pitcher of ice water and several cups into the room. She also made sure the coffee-and teapots were filled.
“Dior, this is quite impressive. I knew you had it in you,” Barbara said, skimming over the last of the six pages. “And you came up with this in a little over a week, that’s great. And I love this catchphrase, when you only have money left for food, do you pay the driver? That’s funny. I think he’ll go for it. You ready?”
Dior’s mouth was too dry to speak, so she simply nodded. Just then the intercom buzzed.
“Mrs. Roman, we’ve just been notified your guests are on their way up the elevator.”
Barbara stood up quickly. “Dior, you wait here. I’ll meet them at the elevator and bring them in here. Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little queasy.”
“I’m fine,” Dior managed to croak.
Just deny it, just deny it, Dior said to herself over and over again. She stood up as the conference room door swung open.
“Ms. Barker, this is Dior Emerson, one of the bright young stars at Kacey and Patnick. She’s the one who came up with the campaign and will be making the presentation today. Dior, this is Kit Barker. Mr. Pacino’s publicist.”
Dior’s eyes widened. “His publicist? I’m sorry. I was under the impression Mr. Pacino would be here himself.”
Kit Barker chuckled. “No, dear. Mr. Pacino would need stunt doubles to go to every business meeting of his. I’ll be the one you have to convince. Then I’ll present it to Mr. Pacino, and of course he’ll have the final say.”
God, you’re the bomb, Dior said in her head as a feeling of relief came over her. She could do her job now without the fear of being found out and having her reputation scrutinized. She proceeded to give her presentation as if it were a walk in the park. Afterward she walked out of the conference room head held high, and with a huge grin on her face.
“I take it that it went well, then?” Candace Waller asked as she passed her in the hall. “Congrats. I hope they go for it.”
“Thanks,” Dior said airily. Candace had been shooting dagger looks her way since the day before when the company had chosen Dior’s presentation over hers, but even the woman’s attitude couldn’t bring her down at the moment.
“I heard you nailed it, girl!” Gordon said when he stopped by her desk later that afternoon. “Um-hm, you know you’r
e going to be the new company golden girl if you did.”
Dior beamed up at the man. “Gordon, I really think I did.”
“Uh-huh. And you know Miss Candace is hating on you right now.” The man laughed. “Serves her ass right. She thinks just because she’s a copywriter she can treat everyone else like shit. You know if her presentation had been picked they would have automatically promoted her to senior copywriter, right? I sure would have held up her pay raise, though. We do have some power in Human Resources, you know.”
Now that the presentation was over, Dior had extra time on her hands, so she decided to surf the Net for a while checking out the latest Gucci and Versace fashions, though promising herself she wouldn’t buy anything. After a half hour or so she logged on to MySpace and found seven messages from Mr. Good Black Man 2008 logged in over the last forty-eight hours. Most were simply wondering where she was, and how she was doing, and how the Pacino presentation went. She was getting ready to log off when she saw his online now icon suddenly start blinking.
Hey, I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact for a while. I’ve just been so busy at work, she quickly typed.
Good to hear from you. I was worried.
No need to. I’m fine.
How’s work?
Work is Great! I think I have landed the Pacino account!
Get out! Congratulations! I’m so proud of you.
Wasn’t that sweet? Dior thought. He doesn’t even know me but he’s proud of my successes. He’s a real gem.
I almost blew it, though, she typed.
What makes you say that?
Dior grinned as she typed a message telling him about her first day in New York City and her chance meeting with Al Pacino.
LOL. You are crazy! I knew I liked you for some reason. When will you find out for sure if they’re going to go with your campaign?
Probably in another week or so.
Well, let me know if you get it because I’d love to take you to celebrate.
Dior hesitated. The temptation was too much to bear. She started typing.
How about we just go ahead and celebrate now? I’m free tonight.
But before she could hit the Send button her cell phone began vibrating.
“Hello. This is Dior.”
“Hello, beautiful lady,” Chris’s cheery voice said.
Reality check, Dior thought as she erased the message without sending it to Mr. Good Black Man 2008. A real man in my bed is better than a cyber one I’ve never met.
“I’m fine,” Dior said as she logged off the Internet. “In fact, I’m psyched! I think I might have landed a major account. Congratulate me!”
Chris chuckled. “Okay, congratulations.”
“In fact, you should take me out tonight to celebrate.” Dior leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. She could feel herself getting moist as she remembered the passion they had shared just three nights before.
“Funny you should say that. I was just calling to see if you were free. I can’t get you out of my mind.”
“Now, that’s what I like to hear. See you at seven?”
“It’s a date.”
Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Dior’s doorbell rang repeatedly. She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece as she rushed out of the shower. It was only six. She hoped Chris wasn’t coming over early. Throwing on her bathrobe and sliding into her slippers, she ran to the intercom.
“Who is it?” she asked, a little frazzled.
“It’s your knight in shining armor,” the voice responded.
Dior frowned. “Who?”
“It’s Jerome,” the voice sounded.
“What do you want?”
“I just wanted to apologize for the other day. I gave Miss Margie her money back so you can just go ahead and pay me now so we can keep the peace.”
Dior suddenly got so angry she stormed out of the door in her robe and slippers. “Jerome, I don’t believe you.”
“What? I thought I was being nice….”
“Go to hell! Before I smash you in the face, you lousy bastard.”
“Yo, you know you don’t have to be so—”
“Jerome! What I tell you about harassing my tenants? Boy, don’t make me go get my baseball bat and swat the shit outta you,” Margie’s voice rang out behind them.
“Miss Margie,” Jerome started stammering. “I was just—”
“Boy, I know just what you was trying to do,” Margie said as she walked up behind him and swatted him upside the head. “Now get outta here before I call your mother and tell her you’re still out here trying to hit on young girls with your trifling ass.”
“Man, forget you and her,” Jerome said as he backed away from the door. “I got me a real nice girl. A professional girl with a good job, too. I don’t need to be messing with you.”
“Yeah? Well, then don’t,” Margie shouted at his back. The woman then giggled and turned back to Dior. “Actually, this time it looked like I was saving him from you rather than saving you from him. I thought for sure you were going to knock him out with your little bitty self. Bet he won’t be bothering you anymore.”
“He’d just better not,” Dior said as she stomped back into her apartment.
Later on that evening, Dior relaxed in Chris’s arms. “You know what? You really grow on a girl.”
“Talk about growing…” Chris smiled and moved Dior’s hand to his manhood.
A wicked smiled appeared on Dior’s face. “Better yet, let’s not talk about it. Let’s get to doing something about it.”
“Dior! You did it! You landed the account! I just heard back from Pacino’s people. Congratulations!”
Dior looked up at Barbara in disbelief. “Really?”
“What do you mean, really? Yes, really! And I’m really taking you to lunch to celebrate. In fact,” Barbara said grandly, “I’m taking the whole team out to lunch! No, scratch that. We’re going out for cocktails. I’m feeling good today!”
“Congratulations,” Candace said with the most insincere smile Dior had ever seen. “I guess you’ve cemented your position here, haven’t you? But then maybe I could have landed the account if…” Candace’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, never mind,” she muttered as she walked away.
Dior wondered what the girl was going to say, but didn’t wonder long. She had phone calls to make. First to her aunt Claudia, then to Gordon in Human Resources, who said he’d already heard and told her that the powers-that-be had already arranged for her to get a five-thousand-dollar bonus, and then to Chris, who heartily congratulated her.
After Dior finished her calls she turned on her computer to do some shopping. She hadn’t been at her new job a month and already she landed a prestigious account. I owe myself a new purse for this one. She gasped when she saw that Gucci had a new clutch bag priced at $980 with matching sunglasses for an additional $550.
She felt only the slightest pang of guilt as she ordered two of each. True, she did need to pay off the coming American Express bill, but after all, a bonus was supposed to be spent on luxuries, not necessities. At least that was her philosophy.
She felt a stronger pang of guilt when she logged on to MySpace and saw that there were eight messages from Mr. Good Black Man 2008. She’d been almost totally ignoring him for the past week because of the time she’d been spending with Chris.
But that’s life, she thought as she deleted the messages without reading them. And Chris is real life. And real good.
“Are you ready?” Larissa interrupted Dior’s leisure.
Dior looked up a bit startled and asked, “What time is it?”
“Four thirty.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize it was so late. Let me just shut down my computer.”
“Okay. Just meet us in the lobby,” Larissa said, leaving Dior’s cubicle.
Dior logged off MySpace and shut down her computer. She gathered her belongings and went into the bathroom to fix her hair and makeup. She made sure she looked as cute as she did when she first left
her house that morning. From what she read, there were going to be lots of prospective companions at the lounge she was on her way to.
Dior, Barbara, Larissa, and three other ladies from the agency took the elevator to the parking garage. Half of the group, which included Dior, got into Barbara’s Mercedes S550 and the other half drove in Larissa’s Infiniti M45. Larissa followed Barbara to Chill Lounge in Midtown. They valet-parked and went inside the lively after-work spot. The music was a mix between hip-hop and R&B and pop. The atmosphere was laid-back but sophisticated. Couches for seating and lit candles and fireplaces gave the place a warm, cozy feel. The attendees were businessmen and-women, still in their work clothes, munching on hors d’oeuvres and sipping fine wines. Dior followed her party to a private room with a large rounded booth just for their group.
“This is a nice place, Barbara,” Dior complimented her boss’s taste. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Barbara replied, opening the menu. “This is where all the professionals meet. You can enjoy happy hour, network, and even close deals here.”
“It beats the golf course, that’s for sure,” Larissa butted in.
The ladies chuckled, all except one, Candace, who sat sullenly silent.
“So,” Candace said after they ordered their drinks, “what’s it like in Canada?”
“Well, Montreal is like any regular city.”
“Oh yeah? Well, did you ever run into any celebrities in the streets in Montreal like you did here in New York?” she asked.
Dior wasn’t sure where Candace was taking their conversation, but she went along. “No, not at all.”
Diamond Playgirls Page 4
