All Up In My Business (32 page)

Zoe jumped at the knock on her window, but her heart went back into her chest when she turned and saw Bobby standing by her car. “Hey, Bobby,” she said as she rolled down the window. “What are you doing in my neighborhood?”

“It might be mine pretty soon. I just checked out an apartment complex down the street. How’s the area? Do you like it over here?”

“It’s pretty cool, quiet. Not too far from work. Speaking of which, how’d you manage to get a Saturday night off?”

“Oliver had to fly to New York, so I helped out in the test kitchen all day. So Chef got somebody else to work my shift, gave me the night off. I haven’t had a weekend off in so long, don’t even know what to do.” He looked at Zoe. “What are you getting into?”

“Laundry.”

“On a Saturday night?”

“Works for me. The laundry room is almost empty on Saturday nights, and I like waking up on Sunday mornings to a clean house.”

“Nah, that shit ain’t happening tonight. You’re coming with me. We’re going out.”

“What?”

“Yep. One of the customers gave me tickets to a party. I wasn’t going to go solo, but since I ran into you …”

“What kind of party?”

“One where you have to dress up. So give me your number and then go home and change. I’ll be by to pick you up in an hour.”

Two hours later, Bobby Wilson and Zoe Williams stepped out of his Hyundai and into a world that neither had inhabited. Cascade Heights was a posh neighborhood located about twenty minutes from downtown Atlanta and thirty minutes from where Zoe lived, but it was worlds away from what they were used to. The private party was being hosted at the Cascade Mansion and Gardens facility, an antebellum-style house with a huge nod to what Georgia must have looked like before the Civil War. After giving their name at the door and taking flutes of champagne from the passing waiter, Bobby and Zoe openly gawked and didn’t care who knew that they were fish out of water. They oohed and aahed at the cascading fountains, sipped champagne in a garden pavilion, and talked about the bourgeoise black folk and a spattering of whites who mingled under a full moon that was outshone only by the myriad of diamonds dripping from the ears, necks, and fingers of the women in attendance.

“Let’s go check out the food,” Bobby said after he and Zoe had drank their second glass of champagne.

“That’s cool. Just don’t ask me to dance to that whack music.”

“Girl, what are you talking about? That’s the good stuff. That’s straight-ahead jazz.”

He and Zoe continued to joke about people’s hairstyles, clothes, and siddity greetings as they made their way to the large buffet. Halfway to their destination, Bobby smiled and waved at a distinguished-looking brother in a sharp, black tux.

“Bobby! So glad you could make it,” Jon Abernathy said, his hand outstretched as he reached Bobby and Zoe.

“Thanks for the invite, sir. This is a real treat. I’m not used to stuff like this.”

“Well, you should get used to it, Bobby. The word is out about you. You’re a top-rated cook, and I have a buddy looking to open a restaurant in the next year or so. I told him about you. In fact, I’d like you to meet him. But first, who is this lovely lady?”

Zoe blushed and preened as Bobby made the introductions. True to what she’d told Chardonnay, she’d been focused solely on her career and hadn’t had a date in months. But standing here talking to Jon Abernathy, she found herself rethinking this position. Aside from casting a vote for Obama, Zoe hadn’t participated in politics. What happened on Capitol Hill, or even city hall for that matter, seemed too far away from her world. Until now. Now, Zoe found herself becoming much more interested in politics … and politicians.

J
oyce bustled around her office, excited about the day and her life. One, she’d just landed another great client and event: the Jack and Jill Christmas Party. The event planner they’d selected had backed out at the last moment due to a death in the family. A true example of how one’s loss could be another’s gain. With the festivities less than a month away, it put Joyce behind the eight ball. But she’d told the organizer that she could pull it off, and she would. Making this event a success would open the door to a whole slew of new clients with weddings, debutante balls, anniversary parties, elaborate birthday bashes—the possibilities were endless.

Such excitement, and this wasn’t even the biggest event of the day. No, the biggest event of the day was that Malcolm’s Soul Smoker would make its debut on QVC. This afternoon, she and Malcolm would be taking the corporate jet to Philadelphia and would then be chauffeured to West Chester, Pennsylvania, where the shows were taped. Diane’s help had been invaluable and was the reason that they’d secured celebrity personalities and Atlanta residents Evander Holyfield and Tyler Perry. They’d eagerly lent their name to the product, especially when told that by doing so, a fifty-thousand-dollar donation would be made to the charity of their choice. She’d
bought two bottles of Dom Pérignon—one for the inaugural celebration and a second for the private party she hoped to have with Malcolm afterward. They hadn’t hung out socially since the night his daughter was born. She admired him for wanting to bond with his latest family addition, but she missed him. That last night at her house, they’d almost made love. Tonight she hoped to pick up where they’d left off.

A light tap at her office door pulled Joyce from her thoughts. “Hey, Sherri, if those are the tablecloth samples, just put them on the table. I’m trying to decide on what crystal to use. In fact, I could use your help. What do you—” Joyce turned around, and the sentence died on her lips. “Victoria.”

“Your assistant must have taken a break. There was no one out front to announce me, so I hope you’ll forgive the unexpected intrusion. As it is, I’ll only be a moment. What I have to say won’t take long.”

Joyce crossed her arms and leaned back against the desk. Never in a million years would she have thought Victoria Livingston would be standing in her office. Joyce had to admit that her adversary had dressed for the occasion. Though a size eighteen, Victoria looked rather sleek in a kimono-style print top, black leggings, knee-high boots, and a silver fox fur. Her hair and makeup were flawless. All in all, Malcolm’s soon-to-be ex-wife was more beautiful than Joyce remembered.

She has to know about me and Malcolm. Maybe he told her. Maybe he’s let her know that their marriage is over and that his life is now with me. Just keep your cool, Joyce, and you’ll get through this just fine. And then you’ll have even more of a reason to celebrate tonight!
“Yes, Victoria. How may I help you?”

“Actually, Joyce, I’m here to help you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m here to help set some things straight, because you’ve obviously gotten them twisted. My name is Victoria Saunders Livingston,” Victoria stated in a voice as calm as if she were discussing the weather. “I am the wife of Malcolm Livingston,
and the mother of his five children. I’ve been married to my husband for eleven years and plan to stay married. To Malcolm, no one else. I am the woman who will manage his home and his personal affairs, the one who will be on his arm in public and in his bed in private. I am his
wife
. I will remain his
wife
. You are just a temporary diversion who’s already gone beyond the fifteen minutes of Livingston fame most women like you are allowed.”

The two women eyed each other for a moment. Then Joyce looked at her watch. “You’re right,” she replied in a voice as equally friendly as the one Victoria used. “That didn’t take long, which, considering my schedule today, is a good thing. Perhaps some other time we can have a longer chat, over coffee and a Danish, let’s say. But for now, I’ll have to ask you to leave. Sherri?”

Joyce’s assistant came around the corner. “Oh,” she said upon seeing Victoria in Joyce’s office. “I didn’t know you were with a client.” She turned to Victoria. “What can I get you? Coffee? Juice?”

“I was just leaving,” Victoria said, her relaxed smile totally hiding the mixture of anger and nervousness warring for domination inside her. It had taken all of her “brought-upsy” to get through the moment without conducting a beat-down in heels. But she’d done it. She’d said what she had to say. The rest, well, Victoria thought that she could show her better than she could tell her.

Two hours later, Joyce was all smiles as she parked her car in the lot of the airport’s private airstrip and made her way to the Livingston Corporation jet. She pulled her car up next to Malcolm’s Mercedes and then walked around to the trunk for the carry-on she’d packed. She wanted to be ready for anything, including a night spent at a hotel in Philadelphia should Malcolm decide against flying back late. Along with the bottle of Dom Pérignon, she’d packed a small picnic basket of fresh-baked
olive bread, caciocavallo podolico cheese and Beluga caviar. As she approached the jet, she saw her friend and producer, Bernice, and Malcolm’s assistant just getting ready to board the plane. Both women looked rather serious, Joyce noticed, but understood why. This was a big day, the day that would change the rest of Malcolm’s life!

“Hey, y’all,” Joyce sang out as she neared the plane. “Are we ready to get this show on the road?”

“Hey, Joyce, let me talk to you for a minute,” Bernice said, her voice low and firm.

“In a minute, sistah. I want to speak to Malcolm and get this champagne on ice.” Joyce hurried up the steps, entered the plane, and stopped short.

“Hello, Joyce,” Victoria said from the first seat, where she sat next to Malcolm. Behind them sat Diane and Ace. Candace and Adam sat on the other side of the plane.

“Uh, hello, everybody,” Joyce managed to squeeze out between clenched teeth. Stunned, she looked at Malcolm, who glanced up and said hello before becoming very preoccupied with whatever he typed on his phone.

“And you brought champagne, how thoughtful,” Victoria purred. “Wasn’t that thoughtful, honey? For your business partner to bring champagne? Don’t worry that you don’t have enough. We keep two cases of bubbly stocked at all times, for moments such as these. Thanks so much for all the help you’ve given my husband,” Victoria said, her voice full of sincerity. “We owe part of what is sure to be monumental success to you.”

Joyce remained standing at the front of the plane. She’d planned to sit next to Malcolm and, along with Bernice, map out final strategies for the show taping. Now she didn’t know where to go.

“Bernice is sitting in the back,” Diane said casually, waving a hand in that direction. “Feel free to join her. We have some family business to take care of up here.”

Joyce nodded and began moving shaky legs toward the back of the plane. Livid didn’t even begin to describe how she felt. She wanted to take the bottle of champagne and bust it over Victoria’s smug head.

“This isn’t over,” Joyce whispered to Bernice once she’d sat down.

“I tried to warn you,” Bernice replied. She hadn’t agreed with her friend going after a married man but didn’t like to see her hurting either. “It’s all going to work out,” she said at last. “You’ll still get paid.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half. There’s no way I’m going to work my ass off to help him get launched and then get tossed out like yesterday’s newspaper.”

Bernice saw Malcolm’s assistant stop and talk to him. She spoke hurriedly, wanting to finish before the woman came to take her seat. “Maybe you shouldn’t make this trip,” she whispered. “Seeing them together isn’t going to make you feel better. Her getting all the glory while the cameras roll.”

“She might be on one arm, but I’ll be on the other,” Joyce said, her voice determined. “I’m not going to give Victoria her husband back. She’s going to have to take him.”

T
oussaint winked at Alexis, who watched from the other side of the room. It was ironic that both he and Malcolm were taping their inaugural shows the same week. Malcolm had beat him to the company jet, but in celebration of the show, Toussaint had chartered a private jet for the trip to New York, with plans to stop back through the Poconos for a romantic weekend before returning to Atlanta. His aunt was well aware of the long-standing rivalry between brothers, which was why Toussaint hadn’t hesitated to let her know he wanted his show to air before Malcolm’s did. Fortunately for Diane, scheduling was totally out of her hands. As it was, Malcolm’s show was airing live, while Toussaint’s show was airing next week, in a special time slot following the popular show
Throwdown with Bobby Flay
.

“We’re ready, Mr. Livingston” the cute, blond producer announced. She’d been flirting with Toussaint ever since they’d met, in love-at-first-sight with him just as all of the viewers would hopefully be.

“Mr. Bouvier?” she called out to Oliver, who paced nervously on the side of the set, looking like a supersized culinary genius in his stark white jacket and chef’s hat. “Remember what we talked about. Just be yourself—relaxed, conversational.
This is when you’re going to ask everyday viewers to come into their homes and cook in their kitchens. Make sure you convey someone they want to meet.”

Toussaint rolled his neck to relax. The makeup artist came over to dab him one last time. The show producer counted them down, and he began. “Hello, America. My name is Toussaint Livingston, and I want to come cook at your house.”

The producers all stood amazed as they watched Toussaint work the camera as if he were a pro. Much as they’d felt when they saw Bobby Flay, Rachael Ray, and Paula Deen, they knew that Toussaint’s show was going to be a hit.

“Change the order from six to twelve shows,” the executive producer said at the end of the taping. “And double his contract—triple it if you have to. We want to lock this guy in and keep him around. He’s one of the next Food Network stars.”

When Malcolm entered the greenroom, everyone in there broke out in applause. Joyce stood slightly in front of the Livingston family, next to the producer she’d worked with for months, beaming like the proud … mistress. Malcolm walked over and hugged the producer before turning and giving Joyce a big, warm hug. “We did it,” he said when he raised his head.