by E. N. Joy
Deborah didn’t complain, not out loud, anyway. But usually her day was so full and busy that she barely had energy to snore, let alone perform her wifely duties. She could so relate to that scene in the movie Sex and the City where the redhead’s husband wanted to change positions in the middle of sex, and she told him, “Let’s just get it over with.” It was like that sometimes.
Men didn’t realize that, yeah, they might work hard at their career, but usually women worked hard at their career and at taking care of the family. Moms were usually the ones at the parent-teacher conferences and PTO meetings. Moms were usually the ones who volunteered for school field trips. Moms were usually the ones who had to take the kids to some kind of practice and pick them up or even sit there to cheer the kids on. Moms usually did the cooking, the cleaning, and the homework. Dressed the kids, did the kids’ hair, and everything else. And on top of that, the mom still had her own career and work to do. Then, when all that was said and done, she was supposed to have the energy to work in the bed too. It was hard to muster up the strength sometimes.
“It will take only five minutes,” Lynox said seductively, nibbling on her earlobe.
“With the baby, it will take me at least a half hour,” Deborah said. “The dry you use cleaners may only be a five-minute drive from here, but you have to take into consideration that I have to get the baby all packed up. I have to get him buckled into the car. I have to drive to the cleaners. I have to get him unbuckled and out the car, and then I have to go into the cleaners, get your clothes, and go back and buckle the baby again. Drive home, then unbuckle the baby yet again. So you see how much easier it would be for you, all by yourself, to go pick up the dry-cleaning, versus me going through all those steps to do it?” Deborah then breathed, because she’d managed to say all of that in one breath.
Lynox looked into his wife’s eyes through the mirror. He no longer had lust in his eyes. “I meant it would take only five minutes for me to make love to you, but never mind.” Lynox removed his hands from Deborah, then exited the bathroom with his head held low.
Deborah threw her head back and let out a quiet “Ugh.” Why did he have to go and mess up her mood? Now not only was she uptight about breaking her day up to run the errand, but she was also feeling as if she was letting her husband down. Her superwoman cape had her initials engraved on it. Not living up to the meaning of the cape meant that she was a failure. She was expected to do it all, so she had to do what was expected. She’d be feeling vexed all day long if she didn’t. That would take away the productivity from Deborah’s day. It would stifle her creativity. She’d be too focused on what she hadn’t accomplished, versus what she could accomplish.
Deborah wiped the last of the Noxzema off with her facecloth. She then picked up a tea towel and pat her face dry. She looked at herself in the mirror and said, “Well, superwoman, duty calls.” With that, she slipped out of her robe, revealing the matching nightie underneath it. She then exited the bathroom, met Lynox in the bedroom, where he was getting dressed, then proceeded to get it over with.
***
Deborah was on cloud nine as she stood among some of the literary industry greats. She’d spotted another local agent, Joylynn M. Ross. She was chatting it up with Dr. Maxine Thompson, one of the best book doctors in the business, hailing all the way from sunny California. That woman could take the most dreadful book and turn it into a masterpiece. Author Brandi Johnson was there, Tysha, Author Maurice “First” Tonia, Vanessa Miller, Colette Harrell, and the one and only Nikita Lynnette Nichols, who hailed from Chi-Town. Deborah thought she was going to have a literary orgasm, she was so star struck. But what really blew her mind was that everyone she looked up to seemed equally pleased to meet her.
“Your reputation truly precedes you,” Dr. Thompson said to Deborah after Deborah introduced herself to the legendary editor. She had figured that instead of staring at Dr. Thompson from across the room like a crazed fan or waiting for someone else to introduce them, she’d take it upon herself to make the introduction.
“The same goes for you,” Deborah replied. “It’s an honor, Dr. Thompson.” She nodded.
“Please, call me Maxine.”
“Honey, I see you met the woman who almost stole your husband,” Lynox said, approaching Deborah and wrapping his hand around her waist.
“Pardon me?” Deborah said, a little caught off guard by her husband’s comment.
“Well, if you hadn’t agreed to take on my project, Dr. Thompson was next on my list to query.” Lynox winked at Dr. Thompson.
Deborah relaxed, and Dr. Thompson blushed.
“I’m jealous,” Dr. Thompson said to Deborah. “Not only did you land one of the top-selling male African American authors in the business, but you got him to put a ring on it too.”
“Pow,” Deborah said, holding her hand up for her diamond wedding set to be admired.
The three laughed.
“I am honored that I was at least second on your list,” Dr. Thompson said to Lynox. “But I can most certainly understand why Mrs. Chase here was your first.”
After a few more words were exchanged by the trio, everyone’s attention turned toward the clanging sound coming from the wide carpeted staircase at the center of the Laroques’ great room, the place in which the event was being held.
The seven-thousand-square-foot home in New Albany, a suburb of Columbus, Ohio’s capital city, was one to be envied. Upon entering the home through the dark orange–stained Asian double doors, guests were greeted by a huge foyer that was the size of a living room in the average home. For this particular night, a makeshift coat check had been situated to the right of the foyer, while an open bar had been set up to the left. The center area had been left open to provide space for all the guests. After making the trek across the shiny hardwood floors, the guests were swallowed up by the vaulted-ceiling great room. Lynox had been to book events in hotel ballrooms that were no larger than the Laroques’ great room.
Tonight’s color scheme was a beautiful, bright, and vibrant blend of turquoise, royal purple, and silver. The silver chandelier that hung at the entrance to the great room looked as though it had been installed specifically for the celebration. Long, colorful strings attached to the balloons hanging in the air just below the ceiling tickled the tops of the taller guests’ heads. There was a sitting area smack in the middle of the room. There was a total of four love seats and couches arranged around an oblong table with a fitted turquoise tablecloth on it. The centerpiece was a tall vase filled with marbles and stones that matched the color scheme.
Servers carried around trays of Reo’s favorite appetizers, and back in the left corner of the room was a table with a huge cake with a replica of Reo’s latest book cover on it. A banner that read congratulations hung overhead, and more balloons were anchored to the table. There were about ten tall, round tables around the room for guests to stand at and converse. The only chairs were the ones that had been placed in the right rear corner of the room. There were about twenty-five chairs before a podium with a microphone. The place looked spectacular. It was celebratory, yet chic. And to top things off, a live band had set up and was playing in the upper balcony that overlooked the great room.
“Can I have your attention everyone?”
All eyes went on Reo’s lovely wife, Klarke, as the band played its last note. She stood on the second step of the staircase, with a glass of champagne in one hand and a fork in the other. She’d clanked the fork against the glass to get everyone’s attention. She stood and waited with patience and poise as the chatter quieted down and guests began to migrate over to where she was standing.
“Let’s give it up for our live entertainment.” She looked upward and pointed her hand toward the balcony. “George Bostic and the Garment of Praise, all the way from Toledo, Ohio, ladies and gentlemen.”
Members of the neo soul group took their bows during the applause, and then all the attention went back to Klarke. It was probably safe to say, thou
gh, that some eyes had never left her.
She was a bombshell. Since she looked not a day over thirty-five, no one would even believe she was closer to fifty. Originally from Toledo, Ohio, but having recently moved from the state of Nevada, Klarke now made New Albany her home with her husband and his sixteen-year-old daughter from a previous relationship. Klarke had two adult children of her own from a previous relationship. The two shared a son together, but he was out of state, attending college on a full academic scholarship.
“Tonight we celebrate fifteen years and the fifteenth book release of the wonderfully talented, sexy, amazing, and most creative man I’ve ever met on the face of the earth.”
Guests laughed when they spotted Reo signaling with his hand for Klarke to keep the compliments coming.
“I’ll stop there, because this could get too personal.” Klarke winked at her husband, and oohs and aahs filled the room as some fellows elbowed one another and winked at the message behind the words of the wife of the guest of honor. “But if any of you have ever picked up a copy of one of his books, you know that he is a master at what he does and truly deserves to be celebrated.”
Applause halted Klarke’s words. Once it died down, she continued.
“And tonight that is exactly what we are here to do. Not only to celebrate my husband and his books, but also to celebrate the release of his fifteenth book. Is that crazy or what?”
Once again there was applause.
“So without further ado,” Klarke said, “I present to you the one, the only national, international, and New York Times bestselling author Reo Laroque.”
There was thunderous applause as Reo hugged his wife and planted a sensual kiss on her lips, all while looking her in the eyes. Just that short interaction between Reo and Klarke told a story. One could see the struggle, the fight, the pain, and the sacrifice they’d been through to be together. A novella had just been told, all in a touch, all in a look, all in a kiss.
Once Reo was able to tear his eyes away from his wife, he addressed the crowd. “If you all don’t mind following me over to the podium with the mic,” Reo said, “I’d truly appreciate it. I don’t want to lose my voice and not be able to give a reading from my work tonight.” Reo led the way as the crowd migrated to the chairs that sat in front of the podium.
He then stepped up to the mic. “First off, I want to thank God for so much more than this night,” Reo began. “I want to thank Him for my beautiful wife, whose catering and event-planning company is actually responsible for the decorations, the food, and everything.” Reo raised both arms and turned his upper body from left to right. “Taylor Made Event Planning. Go to their Web site and book them for your next event.”
Everyone chuckled at the plug Reo was giving his wife’s company.
Klarke gave him a thumbs-up, winked, and then mouthed, “Way to go, honey.”
“But seriously,” Reo continued, “tonight would not have been possible without my wife and children. They are truly the motivation behind my doing what I do.”
Reo shared a few more acknowledgments before he told his guests a little bit about his new title and then read a brief excerpt from it. His written words were as captivating and engulfing when read out loud as they were on paper. Afterward, he spent the next hour at the book table, autographing copies while the band continued to play its mellow tunes. By the time he was finished, both Deborah and Lynox were about ready to head home. Actually, they’d been ready about twenty minutes ago, but they didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye to the guest of honor.
“Well, Reo, my man, it’s been real,” Lynox said as he and Deborah approached Reo. Klarke was by his side. “Congratulations on all your success. It’s well deserved.”
Reo pulled Lynox in for a manly hug. “Brother, I appreciate it, and that’s such a compliment coming from you.”
“Aw, man, go on with that,” Lynox said, shooing off Reo’s compliment with his hand.
“I’m serious. I was thinking, and we don’t have to go all into it right now, but maybe you and I can work on a book together. You know, a joint collaboration or something.”
Lynox practically had to pick his jaw up off the floor. Never could he have imagined in a million years Reo Laroque wanting to share space on a book cover with him. Lynox was indeed at the top of his game in the book business, but Reo was the trailblazer.
“Wow, honey. That’s awesome,” Deborah said to Lynox, resting her hand on his shoulder. She knew how much her husband admired Reo and how hearing those words must have made him feel.
Lynox was still speechless. His mouth hung open, but no words came out. He stood there, slightly shaking his head in disbelief. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything right now, anyway,” Reo said. “Just think about it.”
“I’m in awe myself,” Klarke admitted. “So many writers have come to my husband, wanting him to participate in this anthology or that project with some other author. He’s always declined. Now here he is, the one asking someone else to do what he wouldn’t do.”
“That’s because when you get in the ring with someone,” Reo said, “you want to make sure they are of your same caliber. In Lynox’s case, working with him would challenge me as a writer. I’d have to try to keep up with him.” He laughed.
“I must say I’m honored,” Lynox said. “I don’t have to think about it. It was an immediate yes from the moment you asked. It’s just that the word was stuck in my throat.”
The foursome chuckled.
“I’ll get with my agent,” Reo said.
“And your agent can get with mine,” Lynox said, turning to Deborah, who, of course, was Lynox’s literary agent.
“And we’ll hash it out with the publishers,” Deborah said, chiming in.
“Good enough,” Reo agreed. He looked at Deborah. “Thanks, you guys, so much for coming. It was a pleasure having you here, and I look forward to working with you.” He turned to Lynox at this point and added, “With both of you.”
“Same here,” Lynox said. He shook Reo’s hand.
“And, Deborah, since our men will be working together, perhaps that will give us some time to hang out,” Klarke said.
“I’d love that.” Deborah didn’t really have a lot of girlfriends. Outside of church, she didn’t associate with any other females. She had never imagined making new friends at this point in her life, but Klarke really seemed like cool people and like someone who would be nice to hang out with. So Deborah figured, Why not take her up on the offer? If nothing else, perhaps Klarke could give her some tips on how to lose the last ten pounds of baby weight she’d been struggling to shed. As tight as Klarke’s body was, she had to be doing some type of exercise and/or diet regimen. “Sounds like a plan to me,” Deborah added.
“I’m so glad my idol decided to give up the fast life in Nevada to move back to the Midwest,” Lynox said, patting Reo on his shoulder.
“And it’s good to be back home, my brotha,” Reo said, giving Lynox some dap.
“Pardon me,” a man with a camera interrupted. “Can I get a picture of the two of you together over by the podium?” He looked from Reo to Lynox.
Lynox looked at Reo. “Hey, this is all about you, but I’m game if you are.”
“Let’s do this. The two hottest male authors in the game right now, if we don’t count that darn Carl Weber. This is a once-in-a-lifetime photo op.”
“You know it,” Reo agreed.
Lynox turned to Deborah. “This will be real quick, hon, and then we can head out. Okay?” In his excitement, Lynox didn’t even wait on a reply.
The two men gave each other a brotherly handshake and then headed off, with the cameraman leading the way.
“Modest, aren’t they?” Klarke joked as she and Deborah stared at them as they walked away. She then turned to face Deborah. “I meant what I said about us getting together. Now, I’m not one to simply talk about connecting. I really want to hang out and do some girl stuff.
I know you have little ones, but I don’t want to hear one thing about not having a sitter. My sixteen-year-old loves kids and babysits for everyone in the neighbor. She’s raising money to pay for her driving lessons.”
Deborah shot Klarke a puzzled look.
Klarke didn’t even have to ask Deborah why she was looking like that. It wasn’t a first. “Yes, honey. My money is my money. My husband’s money is his money . . . not our children’s. The only thing the law says we have to provide them is food, clothing, and a roof over their heads. I’m sorry, but both Reo and I have worked hard to get where we are in life. And even though we could easily write a check to cover the cost of the driving classes, I think we are serving our child better by letting her work for it.”
Deborah put her hands up in defense. “Trust me. You do not have to explain a thing to me. I was watching one of those reality wife shows, and a woman’s child was about to go off to college, and she didn’t even know how to do a load of laundry. Really? Where they do that at?”
“In Beverly Hills, apparently,” Klarke said, rolling her eyes. “I saw that episode too. But we can’t lump them all together. That one other wife who has a really rich husband in the music industry . . . Remember that she helped set her daughter up in her very first apartment, but from thereafter, the daughter had to take care of herself?”
“Yes. And it was in New York, of all places. That’s one of the most expensive places to live.”
“But we could die tomorrow, and then what are our babies going to do if they are dependent on us?”
“Like I said, I completely get it.”
“So, how about you contribute to my daughter’s driver’s education fund by allowing her to watch your little ones while we go out for coffee or something?”
