Date Cute Marry Rich

by Alexis Nicole

  After a moment Noah said, “Still, it’s better now, right?”

  I nodded. “He’s come around a bit because of my sister.”

  “The singer.”

  “Yes, it’s just the two of us. When my dad realized that he was about to lose Simone, too, I think it made him take inventory of the entire situation. Since then, he’s learned to let go.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Also, I’m learning to forgive him for not loving me the way I needed to be loved.”

  Wow! I could not believe that I’d said that out loud. In fact, I couldn’t even be sure that I was aware that those feelings were in my heart, not until this very moment. Even so, for some reason I felt so relieved speaking that truth.

  Noah wrapped his fingers through mine, lifted my hand, and once again rested his lips in the center of my palm. This time his lips lingered, and I sighed. Finally, he looked up. “You’re a brave woman.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I whispered.

  “You are.” His voice matched mine. “Brave for standing up for your dreams and brave for releasing your secrets . . . to me.”

  I nodded, and my eyes wandered to the clock encased inside an African mask that hung on the wall. Noah’s eyes followed my glance, and I knew he was thinking what I was, that I couldn’t believe that it was already past midnight. I had to get up early in the morning for a Saturday photo shoot.

  But I didn’t want to leave this place. Not just physically. I didn’t want to leave the soft, safe place that Noah had made for me emotionally. The way Noah pulled me into his arms, I could tell that he didn’t want me to leave, either.

  Was this the moment of our truth?

  When I’d accepted his invitation to visit his home tonight, I knew it was safe, a Friday night when I had to work the next morning. Even though I was feeling Noah something fierce, I wasn’t ready to go to the next level, and the way Noah had been treating me, like an absolute gentleman, made me believe that he wasn’t ready to go there, either.

  Of course, that was before the wine, the dinner, the music, and my confession.

  Was I supposed to stay? Or should I leave?

  Noah lifted me from the couch. Our eyes held each other for the longest minutes before he leaned forward and pressed his lips upon mine for the first time. The lips that I’d dreamed about for twenty-one days felt as soft as a cloud, and were sweeter than any nectar.

  It was way too short for me, but the fact that it was filled with a passion that I’d never felt before made the kiss complete.

  We pulled apart. “Come on,” Noah said huskily. “Let’s go. I’ve got to get you home.”

  We were silent as I slipped on my sweater and Noah grabbed his keys. Outside of his building Noah did what he always did: he stopped a cab, then slipped inside with me. Even though women took cabs in the city all the time, that didn’t matter to Noah. He never just put me in a cab; he always rode with me.

  This time we didn’t talk the way we normally did. This time all we did was hold each other—all the way uptown. He paid the driver the first part of the fare, told him to wait for two minutes, then escorted me to my apartment.

  This time when he kissed my cheek, tucked me behind my closed door, and left me, I wished to God that he had stayed all night long.

  Chapter 10

  Devin

  Retail therapy. That was what this was all about for me.

  I grabbed Leigh’s hand and pulled her into Fashionista, the fabulous Fifth Avenue boutique that I’d discovered my first week in the city. I was just thrilled to be getting out of the shop—and on a Friday at that. And hanging with my girl was the cherry on top ’cause I wanted to thank a sista for giving me the ultimate hookup.

  “So you ready to do some damage?” I asked Leigh.

  She nodded but didn’t have the attitude that she normally had when we were about to storm this place and say, “Charge it!” to everything.

  It might have been the middle of the afternoon on a workday, but this was New York City, where nothing was like the rest of the world. Fashionista was overflowing with folks, as if it was the day before Christmas.

  “So . . .” I spun around in the center of the store, taking in every corner. “Where should we begin?” I didn’t give Leigh a chance to respond. Not when I peeped my favorite part of the store. “Let’s hit the shoes.”

  I led the way to the stacks of styles that had just been shipped in for the summer season. As we browsed through the shoes, I couldn’t keep that big ole grin off my face.

  Leigh picked up one of the new Chanel sandals. “So what are you beaming about?” But before I could tell her, she said, “Oh, you don’t have to tell me. I know. And you don’t have to thank me, either, for introducing you to Clarke.”

  “Oh, yes, I really do have to thank you for the intro to Clarke, because if I hadn’t met him, I wouldn’t have met Tony. And Tony . . .” I tried to think of some words to describe my man, but all that came out was, “Hmph . . . hmph . . . hmph!”

  Leigh frowned. “Who the heck is Tony?”

  “Tony is my new boo.”

  She dropped the shoe she’d been holding back onto the display stand. “What?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said and then filled her in on the details of what had happened at the art show. “Look, Clarke was a nice guy and all, but Antonio . . .” I shook my head. “There’s a reason why I call him Mr. Dark and Lovely.”

  Leigh laughed, but I could tell that she was disappointed. “I’m sorry that it didn’t work out with you and Clarke. I was sure that you two would’ve been good for each other.”

  “Now, don’t get me wrong. Clarke is a nice guy, but he wasn’t my type. Not really.”

  “Okay,” she said, picking up a new shoe this time.

  “Come on, now. Don’t be like that. The point of the whole introduction was to get me hooked up, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, girl, I’m hooked up.”

  “So, it’s that serious with . . .What did you call him? Mr. Dark and Lovely?”

  I went on to tell her about the last three weeks of my life. How Antonio and I talked every night, had been out together on the regular, and had turned this into a relationship. “It’s still at the beginning stages,” I said. “You know, we’re both still on our best behavior, still determining if this is really going to work, still doing that new relationship dance. But I’m telling you . . . I have a feeling this is it for me.”

  “Wow!” She paused. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, Devin. That’s all I wanted for you. Congratulations.”

  Leigh was saying all the right words, but her tone, her facial expression said something totally different. I grabbed the shoe she was holding, dropped it back onto the display, took her hand, and led her over to the dressing room area, where there were fewer people milling about.

  “Okay, fess up,” I said. “What’s wrong with you?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing.”

  I sucked my teeth. “Please don’t make me stand here for the next hour and ask you over and over until you finally tell me, because you know that’s what I’ll do.”

  She sighed.

  “Come on!” I whined. “I am so ready to start spending my way into serious debt, but I’m not gonna make a move from here until you tell me what’s up.”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Hearing about how great things are for you right now made me think about what’s going on with me . . . at home . . . with Michael.” She paused for a minute, as if she really thought that was going to be enough for me. But when I folded my arms and started tapping my foot, she kept on. “You know, I’m really busy with my business right now, but whenever I get home and I’m dying to see Michael . . . he’s not there.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Working, too. I mean, we’ve talked about this. How our paths are crossing and nothing seems to be happening with us, but Michael feels like I am the one that should make the change. He thinks that it’s a pr
oblem that we both have such demanding careers, but he’s certainly not going to give his up.”

  “Well, you can’t blame Michael for that. I wouldn’t give up being the agent to all those fine NBA players.”

  “I have my own business, too!” Leigh snapped.

  “Whoa!” I held up my hands. “I didn’t mean nothing by that.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you sound like my husband, and what would you expect me to do? I don’t want to give up my career. I don’t want to sit at home just waiting for him. And, I’m not ready to have children.”

  “Is that what he wants you to do?”

  “No. I’m just saying that we both have challenging careers and we should both make sacrifices.”

  I waved away her words. “Girl, Michael knows that. You guys are just going through the second phase of marriage, the part where the honeymoon is over.”

  “It’s been this way for a while.”

  “So? Who said there’s a time limit on the phases of marriage?”

  She frowned at me. “What do you know about marriage?”

  “Please. I know a lot. My parents were married. My aunts and uncles were married. Shoot, there are even a few married people on TV. Hmph, I know a lot about marriage.”

  Leigh couldn’t help it—she laughed. Just like I wanted her to.

  “Look,” I said, being serious again, “you guys have only been married a couple of years, and this is just your first dip in the marriage. You’re supposed to have dips—that’s why you have to take vows . . . for better or for dips.”

  She laughed again.

  “Don’t even trip,” I said, really wanting to encourage my friend. “You and Michael were made for each other. You guys are gonna be all right.” I paused for just a second to give her a chance to breathe. But then I said, “Now, can we get back to what we’re supposed to be doing?”

  “Definitely,” she said, sounding better. “’Cause, you know, I really do need something to wear for next Saturday.”

  “What’s up next Saturday?”

  “I’m hosting the launch party for Perry Danville.”

  “Get out!” I said so loud a couple of these uptight Fifth Avenue types put down their credit cards for a minute to stare at me. But I couldn’t help it. Perry D was this up-and-coming fine singer and word on the street was that he was gay. “Oh, you are gonna have to take me with you,” I said. “Leave Michael at home!”

  “No worries about my husband. Michael isn’t going. He’s going to be out of town on business.”

  “Well, then, you’ve got yourself a date! Hmph, hmph, hmph. Perry D?”

  Leigh cracked up. “I thought you were booed up. What are you doing pining after Perry? You need to stay focused on your Mr. Dark and Lovely.”

  “Shoot! Ain’t a damn thing written in concrete yet, chile. And, anyway, you know my motto. . . .”

  Leigh recited it with me. “Date cute, marry rich!”

  And while she stood there laughing, I said, “And my Dark and Lovely is certainly cute, but Mr. Perry D . . . his potential is all about rich! So, I’ve got to keep my options open.” I hooked my arm through Leigh’s and led her right back to the shoe department.

  Chapter 11

  Chyanne

  It had been four days. Four days of pure torture. Four days of being physically sick . . . except for when I sat in that first chair in front of the judge.

  Inside that courtroom I had found my heaven. It was the first time I was the one in charge. Standing in front of the jury, the judge, the plaintiffs, and their attorneys, I was the one calling the shots.

  But now, as I sat in my office, waiting, my stomach was back to doing those anxiety flip-flops. The nervousness came from the fact that the jury had been out for two days, giving me nothing but time to question every move I’d made during the four days of the trial.

  It wasn’t that I was questioning my abilities; the truth was, I knew we had nailed it. We had proven beyond anybody’s reasonable doubt that Household’s Best Corporation was not at all liable for what had happened to the Ferguson family when their son ingested the lemon-scented dishwasher detergent. Yes, there were lemons all over the label, and yes, their nine-year-old son was autistic, but it was a parent’s responsibility to keep a child safe—not some multibillion-dollar corporation.

  The Fergusons’ attorneys had argued that Household’s Best purposefully misled customers with their enticing packaging, saying that the detergent bottle’s shape, as well as the labeling, would lead many to believe that it was a product that could be ingested.

  The first time I read the legal complaint, I’d wondered if I was in the middle of some kind of test, or firm hazing. Because, surely, this wasn’t real; there was not a court in this country that would entertain such a lawsuit.

  But during our preparation for the case, I discovered that there were many complaints like this. What was even more amazing was that most of the time juries found for the plaintiffs—handing over large cash settlements from companies who in the minds of jurors looked too much like the big, bad wolf.

  And in this instance, there was a huge strike against us—a little boy who’d been hurt, a special little boy who’d had complications from the potassium carbonate, which had done damage to his organs.

  Household’s Best had offered—without any admittance of wrongdoing—to pay the Fergusons’ medical expenses. But the family wanted more—twenty million dollars.

  So, we’d gone to trial, arguing that, while we all felt sorry for the young boy, Household’s Best was not responsible for what went on inside the homes of their consumers. It was up to parents to keep products away from their children, and the instructions made it clear that this product was not to be ingested.

  But the best part of our case was our secret weapon—Nicole. She’d discovered that the Fergusons had lived in five different states in ten years. Anyone else would have ignored that. After all, what did dishwashing detergent poisoning have to do with where the Fergusons lived or how many times they’d moved? But Nicole and our investigative team were no ordinary people. Twenty-four hours after Nicole had asked why the Fergusons moved so much, she had her answer. This family had a legacy of litigation, suing companies from coast to coast. They’d sued fast-food chains, hospitals, even the schools their son attended. And they’d had good attorneys, who’d pushed the corporations to settle before the cases went to trial.

  I was able to present the Fergusons for what they really were—corporate extortionists. I’d even left some doubt in everyone’s minds: had the Fergusons done this to their son on purpose just to get some money?

  Although it was clear to me, I wasn’t sure now if I’d made it clear to the jurors. Even if it was clear, would the jury care that this was how the Fergusons made their living when there was a little boy who had been hurt?

  I was sure that I’d answered those questions; but now, two days later, I just didn’t know. I’d been on the losing end of too many cases that we should have won. Juries were totally unpredictable.

  What made this worse was that without knowing it, the jury had more than the fate of the Fergusons and Household’s Best in their hands. What would happen to me and my future was at the feet of those twelve people as well. The partners were watching . . . and that meant I had to win.

  Oh, God! That thought made my stomach rumble some more, and the Mediterranean salad that sat in the center of my desk, right under my nose, smelled as if it had spoiled—even though my assistant had just brought it to me less than ten minutes ago. I pushed the salad to the edge of my desk, far away from me, before I rested my head in my hands.

  This was ridiculous. I had to get my nerves under control.

  But then the knock came, and I almost fell out of my chair.

  Nicole opened the door before I had a chance to tell her to come in. She didn’t step inside; she just peeked in. “We’ve got an hour to get to the courthouse. The verdict is in.”

  “Okay,�
� I said, as if my life didn’t depend on what was now happening. “I’ll come down to your office when I’m ready. It’ll only be a minute.”

  She nodded, left me alone, and I sat there silently for a moment, trying to prepare myself for all that was about to happen.

  Then I slowly pushed myself from my chair, stepped around my desk, but then rushed from my office, straight to the bathroom. I was about to barf again—for the third time today.

  But once I was finished and had washed my mouth out, I’d be ready.

  I’d be ready to face my fate!

  I sat as still as stone. I had not moved since the judge had entered. I had not moved when he asked the jury for a verdict, nor did I move when the jury announced their decision.

  “Our decision is for the defendant, Household’s Best.”

  Not only did I not move, but I couldn’t really say that too many of my bodily functions were working. ’Cause I didn’t even hear the monetary decision that Household’s Best owed nothing to the Fergusons—not even their legal fees.

  The bottom line was my client was not liable for anything and I had won my first case!

  It was the cheers that knocked me out of my stupor. Nicole hugged me as if I’d just given her the ultimate gift, and Jason, the researcher on the case, tried to give me a high five, but it was hard for me to even lift my hand.

  Finally, I got myself together when we were given the “All rise” for the judge to leave the courtroom. Once he exited to the left, I turned to Nicole and hugged her back.

  “We did it!” she exclaimed. “You did it. You won your first case.”

  I already knew that fact, but having her say it made it even more real. “I know. Isn’t it amazing?” I paused before I hugged her again. “We did it together. This would have never happened without you.”

  Nicole laughed. “You’re right about that,” she kidded, though we both knew her words were the truth.

  There was no way this would have been such a slam dunk without Nicole on my team. I was going to have to speak to Malcolm about how I could always have the Nicole West hookup.