The Best Possible Angle

by Lloyd Johnson

  “A new club is opening. Thought we could check it out.”

  “Okay. Are you sure everything’s okay?” Paris asked, stroking her big brother’s cheek.

  “Fine.” A slight twinkle returned to Kendrick’s eyes.

  “Okay. See you two tonight.”

  Kendrick got into the car and glared at Sabathany. “When were you going to tell me about your mother?”

  “I just did.”

  “I mean, before you decided to use it to score points with my family.”

  “How dare you!”

  “It’s bad enough you tried to get over on my family; don’t think you’re going to get over on me, too!”

  “Why, what did your mother say?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit. I saw your face when you came outside. What did she say to you?”

  Kendrick’s thoughts raced. “She told me she thought I should reach out to my dad. I told her I thought it was a bad idea.”

  “It is,” Sabathany agreed.

  “Let me worry about my family. Why don’t you try answering my question?

  Sabathany sighed. She knew he wasn’t going to let up until she gave him something. “All right. I didn’t tell you because you were dealing with important career stuff. I didn’t think you needed to be bothered with it.”

  “When did she die?”

  “The day you had your family dinner.”

  “How did she die?”

  “She OD’d. How do you think?”

  “We talked every single night I was gone. And it never once dawned on you to tell me your mother was dead?”

  “No. And to be honest, I’m surprised you even care. You weren’t trying to help her when she was alive.”

  “I moved her out to California.”

  “Big whoop.”

  “And I paid for her rehab.”

  “Okay, so you moved her out to California and you paid for her rehab.”

  “And what’s all this crap about you writing screenplays?”

  “I was embarrassed. What did you expect me to say, ‘Hi, I’m Sabathany, and I’m a gold digger?’ I wanted to make it seem like we were on an even playing field.”

  “I’m going to tell you right now, there ain’t gonna be too many more opportunities if all you’re going to do is play games. If we’re going to do this, then I’m going to need for you to be honest from the jump. No secrets”

  “I bet you know all about secrets, don’t you, Kendrick?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’ve got your share of them, so don’t get too high and mighty.”

  “Don’t have the slightest clue what you’re talking about.”

  “That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. This just gives me an excuse to get a little creative.”

  “You sit around pouting because I’m not breaking my neck to marry you. Acting like this won’t make it happen any quicker.”

  Sabathany realized she was getting ahead of herself. Why fight over trifles when a far bigger prize awaited?

  “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me,” she said, running her fingers through her hair.

  “I don’t either.”

  “I owe you an apology. You did reach out to my mother. You tried to help her. I’m the one carrying bad feelings about the way she abandoned me, and how the only reason she wanted me in her life was to use me. I figured since I was still angry about all of that, there wasn’t any need for me to tell you she was dead.”

  “But what’s with all the insinuations?”

  Sabathany teared up. The air inside the car was getting too warm. She rolled her window down a crack. “Just me trying to deflect from the fact that you busted me out just now for not being honest with you about my mom. Baby, you’re right. I’m not giving you any reason to trust me. I am so sorry.”

  “Okay, now, don’t start crying. You know I hate it when you cry.”

  “I can’t help it. I’m such a horrible person,” she said, forcing a shake in her voice.

  “No, you aren’t. You’re just stuck in survival mood. When are you going to learn that you don’t have to do all of that? I’ve got your back.”

  Sabathany looked out the window. That way Kendrick couldn’t see her struggle to keep from smiling. He said all of the words she needed to hear, which meant he was no longer angry. Mission accomplished.

  EIGHT

  The Blue Lounge was nothing more than a rented space with a rollaway white, rectangular block set up as a bar in the middle of the room. Dirty, worn-through blue carpet covered the entire floor. Cheap, white tables and chairs were placed in a seating area in front of a massive tinted window. A stream of blue Christmas lights adorned the walls, cascading like tacky neon waterfalls.

  Kendrick didn’t mind the bare-bones of the place, and for the $7000 appearance fee Lenox snagged on his behalf, he was more than thrilled to spend a half hour mingling with fans.

  Kendrick filled himself with his favorite tequila, which besides the money was reason enough to ignite his festive mood. “Hey, you two, come on over here and do a shot with me,” he instructed Paris and Sabathany.

  Stone-faced and arms folded, Sabathany remained pressed against the wall, a deliberate indication of her discomfort. She visualized balmy evenings in L.A, being surrounded by some of the city’s most beautiful people, all the while enjoying top shelf infused cosmos and exquisitely perfumed night air. She had no idea what this Blue Lounge place was beyond a bad joke.

  Eventually, Sabathany joined both Kendrick and Paris to receive her tequila shot, surrounded by D-listers and outright failures watching her every move. “I’m not trying to be funny, but is this the best nightlife Minneapolis has to offer?” she asked.

  “No. I brought us here as a favor to Lenox’s buddy, Carlos. He’s paying me, so please pretend to have a good time.”

  “Are you sure this Carlos guy is going to pay you?”

  “Lenox is supposed to be handling it.” Hearing it said out loud, Kendrick knew it sounded amateurish. “I’ll be sure to ask him when I see him.”

  Lenox elbowed his way through the masses, wearing his red and black down-feathered parka and holding a clipboard. “Hey, glad you guys finally made it. I still got people waiting to get in.”

  “To this dump?” Sabathany muttered to Paris.

  “So, how are we supposed to do this? Carlos came over, said hello, thanked us for coming and said the booze was on him. He said nothing about my money,” Kendrick said, his expression becoming stern. He pushed tequila shots toward his sister and girlfriend.

  “Hold up. I’ll be right back.” Lenox disappeared through the same mass of people. After about fifteen minutes, he returned with a check in hand.

  “Took you long enough.” Kendrick took it, giving it a long glance before folding it and placing it in his wallet.

  “Carlos wanted me to thank you again for helping him fill the joint up. I mean look around!”

  “Yeah, forget about that. The check better be good!”

  “It is.”

  “It better be, because if it ain’t then that’s your ass.”

  Lenox looked stung by Kendrick’s tone. “Wow. You’re gonna play me like that?”

  Kendrick threw back another shot then started on his newly ordered whiskey sour. “There’s no such thing as friendship when it comes to business.”

  Some fans congregated around him. They held cell phones in hand as well as partially-wet cocktail napkins to be signed.

  Without looking at him, Kendrick handed Lenox the empty glass. “Do me a favor, will you? Get me another drink.”

  Lenox snatched the glass, unamused by Kendrick’s haughtiness, which came and went, but usually kicked in when he was around people he felt like impressing. Lenox was transported back to their high school years, playing the role of the dead weight loser friend willing to do anything just to stand in Kendrick’s sunlight. Years later, he still hoped some of whatever it was that mad
e Kendrick so special would rub off on him.

  When Lenox made his way up to the bar, Sabathany gave him the once over. “Hello, Lenox.”

  “Hey.”

  “What do you drink?”

  Lenox ignored her, then sized up Paris. He grimaced but said nothing.

  “Can’t you speak?” Paris snapped.

  Lenox didn’t bother with a reply.

  “Did you have to bring Paris?” Lenox asked, returning with both his and Kendrick’s drinks.

  Kendrick turned sharply. “What kind of question is that? You two got some kind of beef I don’t know about?”

  Lenox shook his head, then walked away as Rick Ross’s “3 Kings” bumped over the speakers, moving the diverse crowd into a slow swoon.

  A beautiful redhead woman in a short, green, strapless dress boldly approached. Her eyes appeared sensuously locked on her target.

  “Say, aren’t you Kendrick Black?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Yes, I am.” Kendrick was taken by her confidence and beauty.

  “Damn, you’re gorgeous.”

  “Thank you. So are you.”

  “I’m your biggest fan.” Her stance was coquettish.

  “Glad to hear it. I need all the fans I can get.”

  “I’ve been seeing commercials for that new movie of yours. I’ll have to check it out.”

  “I would really appreciate that. Make sure you go with a whole group of your closest girlfriends.” He gave her a look sure to make her shiver with dirty thoughts of what she wanted him to do to her.

  The crashing movement of the crowd shoved her into the actor. “Sorry. Didn’t mean for my tits to fall against you,” the woman said, enjoying the intrusion of personal space. Her stare was as dazzling as his; her lips were moist and kissable. She read the look in Kendrick’s eyes. It told her he wanted to screw her silly.

  “The name is Whitney.” Her eyes remained locked on his.

  “It’s real nice to meet you, Whitney.” Kendrick imagined himself pulling her dress up around her waist and unashamedly having his way with her enticing fruit.

  Taking advantage of their closeness, Whitney turned around, making sure the fullness of her ass nestled in the cradle of Kendrick’s crotch.

  “Ooooh, excuse me,” she said before slinking away. She gave a parting look over the shoulder, while the lingering intoxication of her perfume worked its spell.

  Whitney especially wanted Kendrick’s woman to know it was done on purpose, and received a glare for it from Sabathany, who witnessed the entire thing. Unfazed, Whitney rolled her eyes and melted into the partying throng.

  Paris witnessed the encounter as well. She shook her head at the brazen woman’s audacity. “You know, these skanks kill me. They have no respect. She knew you were with my brother.”

  “Oh, I know. But, I’m not worried about it. It all goes with the territory of being with a celebrity.”

  “Still though, that was just plain disrespectful.”

  “I know, right?” The two women clinked their glasses. “Ready for another one?”

  “Absolutely. This time I’ll have what you’re having.”

  Sabathany waved the attention of one of the bartenders. “Two Sex on the Beaches, please.”

  “Anything for you, beautiful,” the attractive male bartender yelled over the music.

  Sabathany smiled.

  “Thank you,” Paris said as her drink was passed to her.

  “Of course. So tell me more about the teens you counsel.”

  “Most of the teens came in pretty banged-up from their folks beating the hell out of them. But, despite it all, they still want and need that love and acceptance from their parents.”

  “Did you tell them that sometimes they can wait until the cows come home, they’ll never get it?” Sabathany asked.

  “Uh, no. The idea is to help them see hope and possibility. But I do try to instill the importance of self-love and acceptance. It all starts there.”

  Sabathany’s face became forlorn. “Yes, it does. I wish I had someone to teach me when I was little.”

  Paris picked up on Sabathany’s sadness. She dug into her purse and pulled out a business card. “Look, I know it’s none of my business, but if you ever want to talk about anything while you’re in town, maybe we can meet for coffee or something.”

  Sabathany took the card. “Is this your cell number?”

  “Both my cell and office numbers. Since I’m extending the invitation, you can call me whenever.”

  “Thank you. I really appreciate that.” Sabathany dropped the card into her purse.

  Paris offered a smile as she sipped her drink. She thought how proud her brother would be of his sister’s and girlfriend’s bonding. That is, if he ever brought his nose up from the rabble of bouncing breasts.

  Sabathany noticed Kendrick’s preoccupation, too. A mere flirtation she could tolerate, but she viewed these women as wanton sluts, shamelessly shaking their asses and pussies in Kendrick’s face. In her book, it went beyond disrespect. Sabathany’s initial indifference gave way to furor.

  “Would you excuse me for a moment?” Sabathany bulldozed her way to the ladies’ room before Paris responded.

  Inside the bathroom, she paced back and forth, hoping the incessant movement burned off her impulse to hurt someone. Stories about celebrity men stepping out on their significant others were common place, especially in Hollywood. She knew Kendrick was a man who enjoyed the attention, and feared he could be lured by the allure of another woman. To Sabathany, most of the women present were out of their league, but stopped at nothing to get their cheaply manicured nails into a growing star like Kendrick Black. Sabathany was especially bothered by the woman in the green, strapless dress.

  That whore deserves to be kicked in the throat, she thought, moving faster and faster. She imagined the bottom of her foot contacting with the meatiness of the woman’s neck, and the subsequent cutting off of her air passage. Then she envisioned stomping her, leaving shoe imprints etched into her flesh. The vision made her want to laugh, but she bit her bottom lip, short of drawing its blood to kill the urge. The last thing she needed was the person occupying the stall to think she was crazy.

  She stopped pacing, and stared into the eyes of her reflection. A light sweat glistened on her forehead.

  “Get yourself together, girl,” she whispered. “These bitches can only wish they’re going home with your man. You’ve already got the prize.”

  The pep talk caused a smile to break through. Her heartbeat slowed. “Yeah, but if any one of them gets out of line, don’t be afraid to get in that ass!”

  Suddenly, a stall door latch clicked. Sabathany ran the faucet, pretending to wash her hands. The stall door opened. The woman in the green, strapless dress came through it. She met Sabathany’s stare with provocative eyes of her own. She walked over to the sink and took a compact from her purse, her eyes never breaking their confrontational gaze.

  Sabathany giggled and said, “You know, just because you’re an ass, doesn’t mean you can leave your stench on other people’s clothes.”

  The woman turned completely to face Sabathany. “Say what?”

  “Aren’t you the bitch who thought it would be cute to rub her funky ass on another woman’s man?”

  “Yeah, that was me! And for the record, the name’s Whitney, and my ass is far from funky.”

  “Kendrick Black is my man!”

  “And? What’s your point?” The woman moved in closer, standing eye to eye with Sabathany.

  Sabathany grabbed a fistful of Whitney’s tresses. In one swoop, she brought the woman’s face down onto the sink. Hearing a soft snap, Sabathany looked to the sight of blood smudged along the outside counter of the basin, with a few speckles of blood on the counter. The woman’s nose hung flimsily to the side. Blood trailed from Whitney’s nose into her mouth. Shards of glass from her fallen compact spread across clumps of translucent pressed powder.

  “Oh, my God, m
y nose! You broke my nose!”

  Sabathany swung open the same stall door Whitney came through, managing a glimpse inside the toilet. “You were in here changing your tampon, bitch? This is why toilets get clogged-up, because of nasty whores like you!” Sabathany again grabbed Whitney by the hair. She gripped her hair tightly, feeling the fire-red extensions coming loose. She dunked Whitney’s head into the toilet, causing Whitney’s loud gurgling to echo throughout the bathroom.

  Whitney pulled herself from the toilet and gasped for air. She remained on the floor, curled into a fetal position, wailing in excruciating pain.

  “You can cry blood for all I care! Now go rub your ass up against someone else’s man, trash,” Sabathany hissed as she kicked Whitney in the leg.

  Sabathany backed away from the woman, and gave herself a final check in the mirror. Rogue strands of hair upset her otherwise perfect hairdo. After placing the strands, she left Whitney slumped on the floor.

  With a newfound pep in her step, Sabathany breezed past the people—the nothings they all were. A woman wagged a breast at Kendrick in one hand, and held a lip liner for him to sign it with in the other. Sabathany whirled over with aggressive energy which warned the woman to get out of the way.

  “How’s my baby doing?” Sabathany whispered in his ear. After placing her arm around Kendrick, she planted a wet kiss on him, and then scowled at the woman.

  “Cool it, baby. They’re just fans,” Kendrick said.

  Lenox stepped in to address the now embarrassed fan. “Ma’am, do us all a favor and put that saggy tittie away.”

  Sabathany continued hugging her man for all in the bar to see. She broke their embrace in time to see Whitney rush past, cupping both hands over mouth and nose; her hair looked like a wet nest. Sabathany’s smile turned victorious.

  Paris came back to the group. She gave Sabathany a high-five.

  Kendrick said to Lenox, “Carlos said a half hour, right?”

  Lenox checked his watch and nodded.

  “Yeah, so I think we’ve given him that and then some.”

  “We’re cool to split.”

  Kendrick got up from the stool a fan relinquished to him. “You all ready?” Kendrick asked.

  “Where are we going now?” Paris asked once they made their way outside.