Date Cute Marry Rich

by Alexis Nicole

  Skye had a point.

  She said, “So you’re going to go, and I have the perfect gown for you.”

  “You don’t do gowns.”

  “Aha! But you have forgotten who your best friend is and who I know.”

  She went on to tell me about an acquaintance of hers, another designer—Mona—who went by just her first name.

  “Meet me there in an hour.”

  I looked down at the pile of paperwork on my desk. I hadn’t made my way through half of the depositions. But while I loved my work, I loved Malcolm even more.

  “Okay, give me the address.”

  After I hung up, I sat back. Skye was right. This would make an impression on Malcolm—in every way. I needed to walk into that gala and make his jaw drop. I needed to have confidence, to be beautiful, and totally aloof.

  I smiled at that thought. I was getting excited. Malcolm would enjoy the aloof part.

  Oh, yeah. This was the right thing to do. And now I couldn’t wait.

  Chapter 15

  Skye

  My friend looked sick. And I didn’t mean that in a good way.

  Chyanne, the beautiful one, looked pale—even paler than normal with her already fair-skinned complexion. To top it off, she looked like she’d lost a couple of pounds since I’d last seen her, and that was only two weeks ago.

  But at least she was smiling, though her eyes looked sad.

  “Hey, girl!” I said, keeping my voice light. I didn’t want Chyanne to see that I was worried. Really, there probably wasn’t a thing for me to worry about. It was probably that she was working too much just like I was. Right then and there, I made a vow that I was going to start spending more time with my friends. Because work wasn’t worth as much as friendship.

  “So, let’s get on in here.” I grabbed Chyanne’s hand and led the way.

  Mona met us at the front door of her studio/work space/living quarters loft, and she hugged me. “I haven’t seen you in months,” she said.

  “I know. We have to do better.”

  I introduced Mona to Chyanne, and they hugged as if they were old friends.

  “Come on in,” Mona said. “I’ve got lots for you to see. Six gorgeous gowns.”

  “Really?” Chyanne said, her face brightening up.

  That made me feel good.

  But if Chyanne had started to look better before, she looked even better after Mona pulled the rack in with the gowns.

  “Oh my God!” Chyanne and I said together.

  I didn’t have any words for the gowns that my friend had picked out for Chyanne. Any of these could have been on the runway, and what I loved best was that there was only one black dress among them. The others were all colors that would light up any red carpet: fuchsia, emerald, lavender, red and my favorite, sky blue.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Chyanne said.

  “Don’t say anything yet,” Mona responded. “Let’s get you into these things and see which one will be best.”

  I stayed back as Mona picked up the first one—the black one, with the tan underlay—and led Chyanne toward the dressing area.

  “Would you mind if I used the restroom first?” Chyanne asked.

  “Over there.” Mona pointed. “Then, when you’re finished, I’ll help you get into this dress over here.”

  Chyanne moved with slow steps toward the restroom, and I stared at my friend. Something was up with her—maybe it was just work, or maybe it was this thing with the gala and Malcolm. But whatever it was, I was going to find out and help her fix it.

  As we waited for Chyanne, Mona and I chatted away, and I was thrilled to hear that Mona had heard my name mentioned in a couple of fashion circles.

  “Everyone is talking about the new girl at Zora Davis,” Mona said. “Nothing but good things.”

  “Are you kidding me? Oh, my God! That’s wonderful. I just want to be where you are one day.”

  Mona laughed. “Please. You’ll make it to here and beyond.”

  I was just about to go into the restroom to see what was taking Chyanne so long when she came out. But now she looked even paler than before.

  This time I couldn’t keep my concern to myself. “Are you okay?”

  Chyanne kind of nodded her head, as if it took much effort for her to move. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just haven’t been feeling well. It’s the pressure of work and this new case and . . .”

  I waved Chyanne’s words about work away before she had me and Mona as stressed as she was. “We are not talking about work right now. We are just here to get you beautiful.”

  Mona agreed. “Come on, Chyanne. Let’s make this happen.”

  As they disappeared into the dressing room, I lingered behind in the studio, strolling through, checking out some of the other dresses that Mona had hanging around. But my thoughts were on my friend. We really hadn’t stayed in touch the way we did when we were growing up in Atlanta. I’d known her from my first days in school, but we’d really become close when she’d lost her father in an automobile accident when she was just seven. Chyanne had been in the car, too, but had not been hurt.

  From that day, she’d been like my sister, and we did everything together—even coming to New York. So, that couldn’t change now. Weeks couldn’t go by without me knowing what was going on with her—and Devin, too. Dang! He had been all up in a relationship, and I hadn’t known a thing about it. No, things had to change between me and my friends, because if they didn’t, I had a feeling that we were all going to regret it.

  “Here we are.”

  Mona’s voice was behind me. I turned around and gasped. My goodness. There was not a word appropriate enough to completely describe how beautiful Chyanne looked in this Mona original.

  The black beaded, lace dress fit Chyanne’s form so well, showing all her curves. I really loved the one shoulder strap, as well as the way the dress flared out around her calves, adding a 1920s vintage look.

  Mona held Chyanne’s hand as she helped her onto the platform in front of the full-length, three-panel mirror. All three of us stared at Chyanne’s reflection.

  “You look amazing,” was all that I could say.

  I watched my friend stare at herself. Then, as each second passed, her eyes got smaller and smaller and smaller, until she jumped off of the platform and bolted into the restroom.

  Mona and I stared at each other for just a couple of seconds before we dashed in there behind her.

  Chyanne was already hugging the toilet bowl, and I slicked back her hair while Mona grabbed a towel and stuffed it under Chyanne’s chin, covering the front of the dress. It was mostly dry heaves, thank God, and when she finally finished, with the love of a sister, I cleaned Chyanne up with Mona’s towel.

  We helped Chyanne move from the floor to the stool, and she sat until she got herself back together.

  A couple of minutes passed before I asked, “What is going on with you?”

  There were tears in Chyanne’s eyes when she looked up at me and shook her head.

  I inhaled a deep breath. Neither one of us was stupid . . . or naive. “How long have you been throwing up?”

  “I don’t know. A couple of weeks now. I thought it was because of work,” she said.

  “But . . .”

  “I . . . I can’t be.”

  It was like she couldn’t even say the word. And I understood why. But one of us had to say it. “Have you taken a pregnancy test?”

  “No . . . I was hoping that it was just work and stress, maybe.”

  “We have to go and do that.”

  I could tell that Chyanne was thinking about work, but she nodded, anyway.

  “We’ll go to my house,” I said. “We’ll pick up a kit on the way.”

  This time, in the dressing room, I helped Mona get Chyanne out of the dress.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, apologizing.

  “No harm, no foul,” Mona said. “The dress is fine.”

  “Well, I’m going to buy it.”

 
“You don’t want to try on the others?” Mona asked. “I mean, not right now.”

  “No. I’ll take this one.”

  “Okay,” Mona agreed. “There are just some things I want to do to the hem, and I’ll tighten up the seams a bit.”

  “That’s fine. Just tell me how much it costs and the dress is mine,” Chyanne said. But then she put her hand over her stomach and looked down.

  I exchanged a sad glance with Mona.

  “Okay, sweetie,” Mona said before she hugged Chyanne. She hadn’t even known my friend for an hour, but what Chyanne was going through right now was a universal scare. Mona understood—even if she didn’t know Chyanne well.

  “Call me . . . tomorrow,” she told Chyanne.

  I hugged Mona, too, and thanked her for what she’d done. Then I turned all my attention to Chyanne. Taking over, I led her from the studio, into the street, and hailed a cab right away.

  Once we were settled into the cab, I told Chyanne that there was a drugstore on the corner of my block that we would stop at first. She nodded and reached for my hand. No other words were needed. We just held each other—both of us too scared to say anything else.

  Stunned! That was the word that kept going through my mind. I had never been more stunned in my life.

  Chyanne was pregnant. We had two pregnancy strips to prove it!

  I walked back and forth, pacing in front of the couch, where Chyanne sat as stunned as I was. We’d been like this from the moment we found out the results; and after all that we’d been through, after all of our years together, I can honestly say, this was the very first time I didn’t have any words.

  But I had to find a way to comfort my friend. So, I stopped walking. And sat down next to her, even though I still couldn’t think of anything to say.

  Chyanne was the one who spoke first. “Nice picture,” she said.

  I frowned. What? “Oh,” I said as I followed her eyes to the wall where I’d just hung the picture. It was the portrait that Noah had done of me—in his signature style. “Noah did that.”

  “Wow, he’s talented. I can’t wait to meet him.”

  I had let Chyanne stall long enough. I twisted onto the couch so that I was facing her. “Chyanne, what . . .”

  Before I could say anything else, she burst into tears. Dang, I guess that wasn’t the right thing to say. But I knew the right thing to do, and I just held my friend. I held her and hugged her until she didn’t have any more tears left.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked when she pulled away.

  She sniffed and shook her head.

  “Okay,” I said. “But why don’t you stay with me tonight? Then, if you want to talk . . .”

  “No. I really want to go home. I need the space to think, you know?”

  I nodded, even though I didn’t really understand. If this was me, I know I wouldn’t have wanted to be by myself.

  Chyanne pushed herself up and tucked her purse under her arm. “I’m gonna get going.”

  We walked in silence to my front door. When we faced each other, I asked, “Are you sure you don’t wanna stay?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I don’t think you should be by yourself. Are you going to call Malcolm?”

  Oh, boy. When I saw the tears that came to her eyes, I decided right then that I wasn’t going to say another word.

  She nodded. “But I probably won’t call him tonight. Tomorrow.”

  “Okay, sweetie,” I said, keeping my words to a minimum. “Call me when you get home, please?” I hugged her, then stood at my door until she got onto the elevator.

  Finally in my apartment alone, I released a long breath. “Wow!”

  As much as Chyanne and I liked to perpetrate, we were really the good girls in our neighborhood. Of course, we had lost our virginity—but not until college. And we didn’t sleep around. Sex didn’t come early and it didn’t come easy in a relationship with us. We had to be in love.

  I knew Chyanne was in love with Malcolm—she’d been talking that way about him for a couple of months now. And from what she told us about him, I knew he felt the same way about her.

  I just prayed that he was ready to take things to the next level.

  My apartment felt so empty, so quiet. I turned on my iPod, but that was not enough. I needed to talk to someone.

  Devin! I reached for the phone but then pulled my hand back. This was something Chyanne needed to tell—in her own space, in her own time. I was going to have to keep this news to myself.

  Still, I needed to talk to someone. I needed to hear a loving voice.

  I thought about Noah, but when I picked up the telephone, I called my parents.

  Chapter 16

  Chyanne

  Tonight was the night. For two weeks, I’d held this secret between just me and Skye. But tonight I was going to tell the most important person. Tonight I was going to tell Malcolm.

  I hadn’t planned to wait for the night of the gala to break this news. It had just worked out that way. He was so busy with the case he’d been working on—a major merger between two corporations—that he hadn’t been to my apartment in weeks. In fact, we hadn’t been intimate since our weekend in Miami. Just my luck—I stopped having sex after it was too late.

  I was pretty sure, though, that tonight we would be together—especially once I stunned him at that gala. I still hadn’t told him that I was going, but I knew he would be glad to see me—he always was. I just prayed that the news I had for him tonight would make him smile.

  Malcolm and I hadn’t talked a lot about marriage, but we were heading that way for sure. We’d been seeing each other exclusively for months now, and the only reason we hadn’t talked more about marriage was because of work—and what would the partners would do.

  But that was going to change tonight.

  I would have to be careful, though. Malcolm was right—these were high-powered attorneys who made big bucks because they could read people. They couldn’t see anything in the way Malcolm and I interacted; I was going to make sure of that.

  “Would you sit still?” Devin fussed. “I have to get this last curl in place.”

  I’d spent the last two weeks in hiding—at work, primarily—so that I wouldn’t have to talk about this with Skye or reveal it to Devin. Skye had been the ultimate friend, calling every day but leaving the subject of the baby for me to bring up . . . which I hardly did. Not that I didn’t want to talk to my friends about this. I really couldn’t wait to celebrate with Skye and Devin. It was just that I wanted to see where Malcolm and I were first. He deserved to know before anyone except for Skye, of course.

  “All right, you can get up now,” Devin said as he waved his hands in a flourish. “And take a look at my masterpiece!”

  Behind me, Skye clapped as I stood from the chair at my vanity and glanced at myself in the leaning mirror in my bedroom. Devin had given me what I called Shirley Temple curls—adult style. It was cute, stylish, and elegant all at once.

  “Okay, it’s time for you to get into this dress.” Skye pulled the black gown down from the hanger as I slipped my bathrobe from my shoulders, then stopped.

  I looked at Devin. “Are you just gonna stand there?” I asked him.

  He waved his hand. “Girl, as long as we’ve been friends, I’ve seen it all. And you don’t have a thing that I want.”

  Skye and I laughed at Devin, but he wasn’t playing. He stood right where he was as Skye held the gown for me to step in. So, I pushed my robe all the way off and stood there—in just my bra and thong.

  “Hmph, hmph, hmph,” I heard Devin say behind me as I slipped into the gown. “From that teeny-weeny underwear that you’re wearing, it looks like tonight’s gonna be a good night.”

  “I thought I didn’t have anything you want?” I joked.

  “You don’t, but I still like to check out the other side,” Devin said as he came over and zipped up the gown for me. Then he took two steps back, snapped his fingers, and said, “Girl
, you look something fierce. Mr. Malcolm is gonna be drooling tonight.”

  That was my hope.

  I took a breath as I inspected myself, twisting from the left to the right in the mirror. Then, like I did every time I stood in front of a mirror these days, I let my eyes wander down to my center. My stomach was still as flat as it had always been, and I tried to imagine what I’d look like in a month, and in three months and nine months.

  “You so know that you look really amazing,” Devin said.

  “That is exactly what I told her.”

  “Thank you,” I said to my friends, though I stayed in front of the mirror. By now, I was supposed to be excited. This was my first gala. I was one of only four junior associates invited and I was going to get to be with Malcolm afterward for the first time in weeks.

  But there was no excitement in me. Instead, a thunderstorm rumbled in my stomach, but at least now I knew exactly what that feeling was.

  “I think your town car is downstairs,” Devin said, peeking out the window. “I still can’t figure out why Mr. Mysterious isn’t here to escort you himself.” He shook his head. “Don’t men know how to act these days?”

  “I told you . . . he’s going to meet me there because he had to work.” I kept my eyes away from Skye as I said that. Just grabbed my purse and my shawl and headed toward the door.

  My friends walked with me all the way to the elevator, then out onto the street. Devin held the door to the town car open, while Skye hugged me.

  “Have a great time tonight,” she whispered. “And please, call me and let me know how it goes.”

  I knew she was talking about Malcolm and the baby. I hadn’t told her, but somehow, she knew that I was going to tell him tonight. I guess that was what twenty years of friendship got us—she knew me as well as I knew myself.

  Once I was inside the car, I rolled down the window and waved until I couldn’t see Skye or Devin anymore. Then I sat back and exhaled. There were so many thoughts whirling in my head. Would Malcolm be happy? What would we tell the partners? And then the biggest question, would he want to get married right away?