I prayed that Malcolm was old-fashioned; I prayed that he would want to get married before the baby came. And wouldn’t it be something if he proposed to me tonight?
That thought made me smile. Now I could sit back and enjoy the ride uptown. Because inside my head, I allowed that fantasy to play out and it was wonderful.
Tonight was going to be one of the most important nights of my life.
As soon as I walked into the Roosevelt Hotel’s grand ballroom, I wished that I’d not come to this gala alone. Of course, I would be with Malcolm at the end of this night, but still, it was a bit intimidating. All of these people, White people, dressed in tuxedos and ball gowns.
Not that this was the first time I was attending some swanky event. But this was the first time I was attending one for my firm and attending one alone.
Dang! I should have asked Devin to come along with me. Or even Skye. It was too late now, though. I was here—and it really didn’t matter. Once I found Malcolm, it would all be better. Even though we wouldn’t stand side by side as a couple, we could stand together as colleagues.
And then, tonight . . . at my apartment . . . we would lie together in my bed.
The thought of that made me shiver and smile. Of course, there was the subject of our baby that we had to discuss, but I had a feeling that Malcolm was going to be happy about it. Maybe not thrilled, but he loved me. So, we would work it out.
I pressed my way through the crowd, smiling at the people who glanced my way. I could almost see the questions in their minds—who was this Black girl, and what was she doing here? I guess these were natural questions for them. No one had seen me before, and these people looked and smelled like wealth.
I pushed my shoulders back, held my head up. I wasn’t of their kind—they could tell that. But I would be—soon. I was the up-and-coming attorney in one of the largest firms in one of the largest cities in the world. I was sure that at next year’s gala everyone here would know my name.
Making my way to one of the bars, I stayed at the edge for a moment, taking in the sight behind me. Two hundred, maybe even three hundred, people milled about. The air was filled with the din of chatter as the men discussed their latest deals on Wall Street and the women dished on what happened at last weekend’s social events.
“Hey, beautiful,” the bartender said to get my attention.
I looked into the face of a cutie-pie, but I didn’t like the fact that he’d addressed me that way. Not at an event like this. He should know better, since I was pretty sure that he hadn’t called anyone else anything besides sir or ma’am.
“Whatcha havin’?”
“Just a ginger ale,” I said, deciding to keep my opinion of how he was talking to me to myself. I took the glass from him, dropped two dollars into the tip jar, and then turned away. Not that I wanted to be rude, but I couldn’t be caught chatting it up with the bartender when I hadn’t talked to anyone else yet.
I needed to find Malcolm.
And then, just as I thought that, he appeared. Across the room. At the bar that was on the other side.
Thank God!
I left my glass on the bar, not wanting anything in my hand, not wanting anything to mess up my look. Smoothing out my dress, I tucked my clutch in my hand, then pressed through the crowd once again. My eyes were on Malcolm the entire time as he stood, apparently ordering a drink. I thought about how we hadn’t spent much time together lately, but how we would make up for that tonight. I thought about this news I had for him, and knowing him so well, I could already see his reaction. Shocked at first, of course. But then he’d be pleased. With each step I took toward him, my confidence grew.
Finally, I was just a few steps away, and he saw me.
The shock on his face was so apparent, but I smiled, because I knew what that look was all about—he was just surprised to see me . . . and I looked good!
I slowed my stroll and sauntered over to him so that he could get the full effect of my dress. When I stood toe-to-toe with him, I said, “Hey, Malcolm.” I reached to give him a hug, but he pushed my arms away before I could even touch him.
“Hey . . . hey . . . ,” Malcolm stuttered, then glanced around, as if he was checking out whether anyone had seen us.
Okay, he didn’t even want to give me a hug? I mean, didn’t people give innocent hugs at events like this? But I had to play this the way Malcolm wanted because he knew best. And really, he didn’t even want me to come here, so I had to do it exactly his way.
I stepped back and kept my smile. “It’s good to see you,” I said.
“I . . . I . . . What are you doing here?” he asked as his eyes still shifted through the room.
Was that the first thing he had to say to me? Okay!
“I decided to come,” I said, giving him a little shrug. “I wanted to show you that we could be at these kinds of events together without anyone knowing anything.”
He nodded and took a big swallow of whatever he was drinking.
I lowered my voice. “I’ve missed you, Malcolm.” I waited for him to say the same thing to me. But when he didn’t, I added, “I need to talk to you about something important. So, can you come over tonight?”
Before he could say a word, a woman pressed her body between us.
“Malcolm, baby? I was waiting for my drink.”
My heart was already pounding as I took two steps back and surveyed the woman. She was petite in every way; only about five-two, and probably a size zero. The biggest thing on her was her hair—long, black, hanging down her back, almost to her waist. If I had to guess, she had Indian blood pumping through her veins.
I was shaking by the time I pulled my eyes away from the woman and looked straight at Malcolm. My eyes asked him what my lips could not—to please explain this to me.
“Baby?” she called him again. “Did you get my drink?”
With a little nod, he handed her a martini.
That was when she turned to me and reached out her free hand. “I don’t know what’s wrong with my husband. I’m Kayla Parks.”
Her introduction took my breath away. But there was no way I was going to let her see that. No way I was going to make a scene.
“Hi. I’m Chyanne. I work with . . . your husband.”
“Really?” Kayla turned to Malcolm. “You didn’t tell me that you had a new associate at the firm.” To me, she smiled and said, “Such a beautiful associate at that.” She asked me, “Did you just start?”
No, was what I said inside my head. I’ve been there . . . at the firm . . . with your husband forever a year! But since my lips couldn’t move, all I did was nod. I had to get away, though. Because if I didn’t, I was going to throw up on both of us.
“Excuse me,” I said, glancing at Malcolm one last time, praying inside that he had some kind of explanation. But he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes on mine.
I spun around as fast as I could—I couldn’t let Mrs. Parks see the tears that were already in my eyes. I couldn’t let anyone see me fall apart.
Tightening the shawl around my shoulders, I rushed out of the ballroom and then ran down the hallway to the entrance of the hotel. Really, I should have gone to the bathroom, because I could feel the bile rising up in me. But I couldn’t stay in the same place with Malcolm and his wife. I couldn’t take the chance of seeing him or her.
Malcolm and his wife.
Oh, my God! How could Malcolm do this to me? What was I going to do now?
Chapter 17
Skye
I was almost singing “I Am Woman”!
I mean, really, this was the best of times. I was doing everything. I was working on my new line, I was helping my boss with all the photo shoots . . . and I was managing my man.
The only thing that was bothering me was Chyanne. I hadn’t heard from her for three days—not since the gala. I was trying not to worry, though, thinking that she was just spending all her time with Malcolm. After all, they did have lots to talk about. Still, it wasn’t lik
e Chyanne to be silent like this, and if I didn’t hear from her tonight, I was going to march right over to her apartment and break up whatever lovefest she and Malcolm had going on over there.
The knock on the door stopped me from thinking about Chyanne, and my assistant came in. “Girl, look at these.”
Her hands were filled with a bouquet of lilies, and I couldn’t help but grin. This was the first time Noah had sent me flowers. Wow!
Taking the bouquet from her hands, I inhaled right at the exact moment that my phone rang, and I grabbed it, praying that it was Chyanne . . . finally.
“Did you get the flowers?”
“Huh?” Now, I know that wasn’t the proper way to thank someone, but the thing was, whoever was asking about the flowers wasn’t Noah.
“My flowers,” the man said again. “They should have arrived a few minutes ago.” I grabbed the card from the bouquet: Nice meeting you. But there was no name, no signature. Were these from one of the male models I’d worked with?
The man on the phone said, “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me already.”
“Who is this?” I asked. Since it wasn’t Noah, I wasn’t interested in playing any games.
“I guess I didn’t make much of an impression.” He chuckled. “This is Trent Hamilton.”
Trent Hamilton?
“We met at Starbucks,” he said, as if he knew I had no idea who he was.
Oh, yeah. That fine guy. I would’ve felt good about the call, except, how in the world did he get my number?
“Let me explain before you think I’m a stalker or something.”
“Good,” I said, “because that is exactly what I was beginning to think.”
He chuckled again. “I Googled you. That’s how I found out that you worked for Zora Davis.”
Ah! Google!
“So, have I done enough to at least see you again?”
“Well . . .”
“Flowers, my ingenuity, and you’re still not impressed? I promise if you have dinner with me, you won’t regret it.”
“Well . . .” was all that I could manage again.
“Look, Skye, you made quite an impression on me, and I’d like to get to know you better.”
I didn’t know why I was hesitating. I was in a relationship with Noah. We hadn’t completely defined it yet, but I was hoping that we would soon. I was hoping that Noah would want to be committed, exactly the way I wanted to be.
“Trent,” I said, “thank you for the flowers, and for tracking me down. But, I’m seeing someone.”
“Oh, my bad.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see your ring.”
“I’m not married, just . . . committed.”
“So, are you committed to the point where you can’t even have lunch . . . or dinner? I mean, a woman has to eat. Why should one as beautiful as you have to eat alone?”
I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “I’d rather not.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “I appreciate a woman with integrity. Just one more thing for me to like about you.”
Dang! I started thinking about our meeting again. How fine Trent was, how he just looked like money. And now I was finding out that he was a nice guy, too. It was a good thing that Noah and I were solid as a rock.
“I’ll keep your number,” I said, really wanting to get off the phone before I changed my mind and agreed to go out with him.
“Please do,” he said, “because I’m certainly going to keep yours.”
I couldn’t stop staring at the phone when I hung up. Why hadn’t I bumped into Trent before I bumped into Noah? Wait a minute. What was I saying? Noah was a wonderful man. I needed to keep my focus on him and just stay in that lane.
Just as I was setting the lilies on the credenza, my phone rang again. I half expected it to be Trent again, but the moment I heard her voice, my smile went away.
“Chyanne, what’s wrong?” I said after she said hello.
“I’m . . . I’m calling a Code Red.”
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Home. Home.” Then she sobbed, and I told her that I’d be right there. “I’ll call Devin. We’ll be there in thirty minutes, sweetie. Hang on.”
My hands were shaking as I hung up the phone. Code Red—that was our signal for an emergency meeting, and whenever any one of us called that, we all dropped whatever we were doing.
We hadn’t had a Code Red since we’d been in New York. In fact, I couldn’t really remember when the last time was that we had one. But it didn’t matter—we had one now.
I told my assistant that I had an emergency, and I was already out the door when I put in the call to Devin.
Chapter 18
Devin
I was exhausted! Not only had I already had a full day, but I’d just finished up Leigh’s hair for some new club opening she had to handle up in Harlem. I loved Leigh, but it was draining to listen to her love life. Not that I was complaining, I knew it was a good thing that Leigh had me to talk to. But she and Michael needed to stop all this foolishness and get it together. It was hard to find true love in this life, and since they had it, they needed to work it out.
I hoped that she would think about my idea for them to take a vacay. That was what the two of them needed—to get away and remember how to be in love again.
Now, if anyone knew anything about that, it was me and Mr. Dark and Lovely. I am telling you, Antonio and I had it going on for real. Hmph hmph hmph. For the first time in my life, I think I was really in love. It was because I was in love with Antonio’s mind more than anything else. I loved the way we talked about anything and everything. I loved how he was interested in the world, politics, sports, and everything in between. We were made for each other, and I was even thinking about taking him home with me next time I went down to Atlanta. Now, that would be a big deal if I decided to do it.
Thinking about Antonio made me jump out of my chair. I was ready to clean up my station and head over to my man’s place for a little rest, relaxation, and whatever else the two of us could come up with.
When my cell phone rang, I almost didn’t pick it up, until I saw that it was Skye.
“Hey, Mz. Thang.”
“Code Red,” she said.
“What? Who? You or Chyanne?”
“Chyanne. Meet me over there.”
“On my way,” I said and hung up.
Wow! A Code Red. When was the last time we had one of those? It was with Simone, Skye’s sister, a long time ago back in Atlanta. And really, I couldn’t remember the last time Chyanne had called a Code Red personally for herself. She was the one out of all of us who always had it together.
Well, that was exactly why I had to be there for her now.
“Carmen,” I said to the stylist who was like the assistant manager, “can you close up tonight?”
“Sure.”
I gathered my things and headed out of the door. There was no way I could take the train into the city. That would take too long. This called for a cab.
I jumped into the first one that stopped, gave the cabbie Chyanne’s address, then called Antonio. I was going to have to put Mr. Dark and Lovely on hold for tonight.
Chapter 19
Chyanne
It had been three days of nothing but depression for me. I just couldn’t get it together.
Sunday I’d cried the entire day, and then Monday I’d called in sick before I rushed to my gynecologist and found out that yes, I was seven weeks pregnant. It was a good thing I’d already told my assistant that I wasn’t going to be in, because the only thing I’d done was cry for the rest of the afternoon.
My plan was to go to work yesterday, but how could I? What was I supposed to say to Malcolm? How could I face him when I’d been such a fool?
I played it over and over in my mind. There had never been any signs that he was married. Yes, there were times when I couldn’t reach him, just like there were times when he couldn’t reach me. It was because of our jobs. We were atto
rneys in a high-powered law firm. We were busy.
Besides that, I’d been to his condo, and he’d taken me away for the weekend just a few weeks ago. He was at my apartment four, sometimes five times a week. How had he pulled all that off?
And why hadn’t anyone at the firm told me? Because no one knew about the two of us. Still, shouldn’t there have been some mumblings about him being married? But I tried and tried and tried to remember—and there was nothing.
Malcolm displayed none of the signs of marriage—no pictures on his desk in his office, no ring on his finger . . . nothing!
Still, I felt like a fool!
All I could think about was his wife. His beautiful wife. Kayla. And I wondered, why would he want me?
I’d been fighting it, but my tears started all over again. I rolled up onto the couch—there was no way I could go to my bed. I hadn’t slept in there since I’d come home from the gala. There was no way I’d be able to sleep with all those memories in that room.
Even though the outside hallway had thick carpet, I could hear the heavy steps coming toward my door. I was sure it was Skye; Devin was much more graceful than Skye or me.
She pounded on the door, and I wished she’d had a key so that I wouldn’t have to move. But I pushed myself up, dragged myself across the room, and let her in. The moment she stepped inside and wrapped her arms around me, I cried as if this was the first time I was letting all this anguish out. I was still crying when Devin busted in, carrying two large grocery bags.
Without saying anything, Skye led me back to the couch, and Devin started unpacking the bags. Right on the coffee table, he piled up every kind of snack that I loved: white macadamia nut cookies, brownies, and my favorite Chunky Monkey ice cream. He also had a bottle of my favorite red wine—I guessed Skye had kept my secret.
While I stretched out on the couch, Skye and Devin moved around my apartment as if they had lived there. In just a few minutes they had plates, glasses, and silverware laid out before they sat down in front of me.
For the last three days, I’d thought of nothing but Malcolm . . . and his wife. I hadn’t thought about what I was going to say to my friends. Now, while they sat there staring at me, waiting for me to speak, the tears came to my eyes.
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