I expect shock from Arlene. Instead, her face fills with smugness. “If you’d been able to satisfy him, he wouldn’t have ended up in my bed.”
“You bitch. I
more
than satisfied Adam.”
Risha grips my arm. “Claudia—”
“Adam was a freak, okay?” I feel everyone’s eyes on me—Alice’s, Bree’s, the stylists’ at the other end of the salon and their patrons—but I don’t stop. “A pathetic freak who liked all kinds of disgusting sex. When I found out about that, I knew I could no longer be with him. But you—how many times have you been engaged again? Three? Four? At least I’m not desperate enough to settle for anyone.”
Arlene glances around uneasily, though her eyes flash fire. “Adam was right about you. You’re bitter because he dumped you, and you started those rumors about him to ruin our relationship.”
I laugh out loud at that. “Yeah,
that’s
how it happened. And here I thought you were just desperate to finally get married, why you were so willing to settle for my rejects. But you’re really as much of a freak as Adam, aren’t you? You two really
should
get married. You deserve each other.”
Arlene’s gaze is venomous, but she doesn’t respond.
I pull my feet away from Alice, apologizing as I do. “I don’t think I can stomach sitting here any longer. Something foul in the air is getting to me.”
Arlene quickly stands and steps out of the bubbly water soaking her feet. “I’ll save you the trouble. I’ll leave.”
As Arlene slips her wet feet into her sandals, I casually lift the magazine off my lap. But I don’t open it. Instead I face Risha.
She offers me a “You go girl!” smile, then squeezes my hand in support.
When I arrive home—which happens to be an apartment within my parents’ very large house—I kick off my shoes, then head straight into my bedroom. I fluff my down-filled pillows and settle my back against them, sighing as I do. That’s the only moment of repose I allow myself, because I need to seriously bitch to my two best friends about Arlene Nash. Hopefully I can get both Annelise and Lishelle on a three-way conference call.
I reach for the phone on my night table, but it rings before I can pick it up.
I lift the receiver to my ear. “Hello?”
“Claudia?”
My back straightens at the faint sound of the male voice on the other end of my line. Surely, it couldn’t be…
“Adam?” I ask cautiously.
There’s a pause, and in that moment of silence, I almost hang up. But then I hear, “No, this isn’t Adam. It’s Greg. Greg Rutherford.”
Greg Rutherford? I frown, wondering why the name sounds familiar, but not recognizing who it is. Then it dawns on me. Greg Rutherford is a guy in my social circle whom I see out at various charity events.
“Oh, hello,” I say, relieved. “Greg, how are you?”
“I’m good. Good.”
“To what do I owe the honor?” I ask, though I already have a sneaking suspicion.
Another pause, long enough that I have to wonder if he heard my question. “Greg?”
“Um, sorry.” I hear some nervous laughter on his end. “Didn’t your mother tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“She gave me your number. Said you were, uh, interested in getting together. With me.”
“She said what?” I practically shriek. I know my mother has been desperate to marry me off, but how could she?
“I’m sorry. I thought…”
I want to tell Greg to stop apologizing, just be a man and express what he wants. But I see an image of his face and the brown eyes he hides behind thick glasses, and suddenly feel sorry for him. Almost sorry enough to spare his feelings, lie to him and tell him that yes, I did want to get together.
But that would accomplish nothing.
So I go for the truth.
“Greg…I don’t know if my mother told you or not, but I recently ended a relationship.”
“I know. You were engaged to Adam Hart.”
“Right. And…and I’m not anymore. The last thing I’m interested in doing is dating.” I don’t add that even if I weren’t nursing a broken heart, I wouldn’t be interested in dating him.
In short, I’m letting him down easy. Giving him a way to save face.
“Say no more,” Greg says.
“You understand?”
“I went through the same thing when my marriage ended. I know what you’re going through.”
“Of course.” I suddenly remember hearing the surprising news that he and his wife parted about a year ago.
“That’s why I thought…well, I wondered. You know, if you ever wanted to get dinner sometime. Do something to take your mind off your troubles…”
I appreciate the gesture, even if he isn’t my type. “Maybe in a couple months,” I tell him.
“Why don’t you take my number? Call me. Whenever. If you want, of course.”
Greg rattles off his number, and I jot it down.
We end the call, and no sooner do I drop the cordless handset on my bed, than I shoot to my feet. I head out of my apartment through the door that connects to my parents’ house by way of their kitchen.
I find my mother upstairs in the laundry room, standing at the counter folding towels. Seeing me, she smiles brightly.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
I walk into the room, saying, “I just heard from Greg.”
“Oh, he called.” Her hands rest on the pile of unfolded bath towels and face cloths. “Did you make a date for dinner?”
“What were you thinking?” I ask her. “
Greg?
He is totally not my type.”
“Which is exactly why I thought he’d be perfect for you. You haven’t exactly chosen wisely before.”
My mouth falls open. “How can you say that? You liked Adam! You couldn’t wait for me to marry him!”
“That’s not exactly true. I always had reservations about your union. His father is a womanizer, and that’s a trait I believe runs in the family.”
“You never said—”
“I was hopeful, but proven wrong. I’ve come to terms with that now.”
I eye my mother skeptically. I’m not sure I should believe her. She was helping me plan the most lavish wedding Atlanta’s black society would ever see. Why would she do that if she didn’t think I’d be happy with Adam?
“But Greg,” my mother goes on. “I’ve never heard a bad thing said about him, nor his father or his uncles. And from what I can tell, they absolutely adore their wives.”
“That’s because they have no choice,” I quip. “They aren’t exactly the most attractive guys in Atlanta.”
My mother stops folding a large white towel to gape at me. “Claudia Fisher. I did not raise you to judge people by their looks.”
“Mom, it’s true.”
“It’s also true that Greg is a well-respected doctor.”
“A plastic surgeon. Hmm, I wonder if he’s ever thought of going under the knife himself.”
“That’s awful!”
“I’m sorry. It’s just…”
“Just that you like all the pretty boys—boys like Adam Hart?”
“Well. Yeah,” I answer honestly. “Besides, Greg’s divorced.”
“With no children. No baggage to tie him to his ex. For a man his age—”
“I’m not interested,” I stress. “The truth is I’m not really interested in anyone.”
Now my mother moves toward me. “If you tell me that you still have feelings for Adam—”
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Good. Because given everything you learned about Adam, you need to count your blessings that the two of you didn’t marry after all.”
“I know that. Hell, I was the one who was engaged to him.”
“My point is that Adam is the kind of man you cut out of your life with a clean slash—and you don’t look back. And you certainly don’t shed any tears over him.”
“I haven’t.” Okay, so that’s a bit of a lie. I’m only human. I was in love with Adam for four years. When you really care for someone, it’s not easy to turn off your feelings for him overnight. That said, it took me about a week to really move past him, come to the realization that the motherfucker was a piece of shit I was better off without.
“I’m not saying Greg’s not a nice guy,” I go on. “Clearly he is. But…but I’m not attracted to him. You’re attracted to Daddy, aren’t you? You don’t want me to marry someone simply to say I’m married?”
My mother meets my eyes with a steady gaze. “You’re not getting any younger.”
Wow, that floors me. Renders me speechless.
But only for a moment.
“I’m not going to settle,” I tell my mother, my anger toward her barely contained. “I will never do that.”
And then I turn and walk out of the laundry room. I am seriously tempted to run, but I don’t want to give my mother the satisfaction.
When did my marital status become her biggest concern? What about my happiness?
I know she means well. But still.
When I reach my apartment, I make sure to lock the door behind me.
I’m not sure what rattled me more—my run-in with Arlene or my chat with my mother. I only know that I need to vent, so I grab my cordless handset off my bed and call Annelise. I put her on hold while I call Lishelle, hoping to connect her on a three-way call. But Lishelle doesn’t pick up, which means I can’t have a serious bitch session with both of them at the same time.
“Annelise, you still there?” I ask when I press the link button to connect back to her.
“I’m still here. You okay?”
“I’m pissed.” I take the next few minutes to fill her in on the chance meeting I had with Arlene Nash. “Do you believe that bitch’s nerve? I’m not sure what she was trying to do.”
“Rattle you, obviously. And it worked.”
“What pisses me off is that she admitted she was sleeping with Adam while we were still together. While we were
engaged
. That
whore
.”
“She’s that kind of woman. Some are simply like that. They get off on thinking that they can steal your man. People like her make it their life’s mission. What they don’t get is that if they can steal a guy from someone he supposedly loves, he’s not worth having. Trust me, I think Charles’s lover has learned that the hard way.”
“I know.” A sigh escapes my lips. “I shouldn’t let her even get to me. And then there’s my mother. It’s like she thinks I’m a failure because I don’t have a man in my life.”
“She didn’t say that?” Annelise asks, a hint of horror in her tone.
“Well, not exactly. And I know she doesn’t really think that. But she’s trying to set me up with this guy who is so dull…” I blow out a frustrated breath.
“You want to get together?” Annelise asks me.
“I want to get out of town.” It burns me to know that Adam is in D.C., getting on with his life like he never hurt me. He was never charged with embezzlement in the scandal surrounding the Wishes Come True Foundation, but I hope he can’t outrun the tainted brush of scandal. And secrets have a way of coming to light in a town like D.C.
“Out of town, hmm?”
“It’d be nice. Get away from Atlanta and do something fun. Everywhere I go in this city, I feel like people are staring at me. Pitying me because I didn’t get to walk down the aisle.”
“I’m sorry.”
I run a hand through my hair and groan. “I’m the one who’s sorry. Here I am going on and on about my problems, not even asking you how you’re doing.”
“I’ve been great since my visit to your uncle’s law office. Hey, why don’t we get together? We can have a drink at some happening spot. Listen to some good music, maybe even dance a little. Liven up our Tuesday night.”
For a moment I seriously consider Annelise’s offer. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but I’d be really bad company.”
“No you won’t,” Annelise protests.
“Yes,” I insist. “I’m in one of those moods. I’m gonna stay in and stuff my face with junk food. Rain check?”
“Of course,” Annelise agrees.
When I end the call, I sit on my bed and inhale several deep breaths. I try to center myself, to de-stress.
But after five minutes, I don’t feel any better. I feel glum, listless.
Kind of like I’ve lost my groove.
Annelise
A
fter talking to Claudia, something clicked. The reality that not only did I
need
to do something to uplift my friends and my sister, but that I
could
.
Dominic and I are getting along well, and I’m in love. For me, life is good. But it’s hard to share my excitement about him with my friends and sister when they’re all suffering from broken hearts.
Life can change in an instant, and in my case, it definitely did. First, for the worst—when I learned Charles was cheating on me. Then, for the better—when I learned I would be getting the money I deserved from my house. And even though only five days have passed since the house has been listed, there are already two serious offers, which has driven the price up beyond what I was asking.
The point is, I have
money
. Well, very soon I will. And I’m going to use some of it to surprise Samera, Claudia and Lishelle with exactly what they need.
A vacation.
It’s high time that my friends and I go away. Get out of Atlanta and do a girlfriend trip. Someplace fun, like Mexico. Or maybe the Bahamas. Or Vegas.
The very idea of planning this—especially as a surprise—has me giddy. I head to the kitchen to grab the phone book and start looking up travel agents. But as my fingers skim the heavy book, I decide against making calls.
I’m going to head out to the mall and walk into an actual travel agency, have a live travel counselor give me glossy brochures and lots of suggestions.
Dominic is at work, so I jot a note and leave it on the kitchen table in case he gets home before I do. Then I grab my purse and head out the door, determined to change the course of the future.
If Stella could get her groove back on the sun-drenched beaches of Jamaica, why can’t we?
By the next week, I have everything all planned. I’ve booked a surprise getaway to Las Vegas at the beautiful Venetian Hotel. I’ve splurged, but I figure my friends and sister are worth it. And considering my house just sold for over $800,000, I can afford the expense, which I charged to my credit card until my cash comes in.
My sister isn’t working, and neither is Claudia, so I know they can leave with only a moment’s notice, but I had to call Lishelle’s television station and secretly book her some time off. Thankfully, her station manager agreed, stating that Lishelle could use some R&R. And Lishelle won’t be able to give me any excuses about why she can’t go.
I’m excited. Not only did I book the trip to Vegas for this Thursday, two days from now, I got us tickets for the Thunder from Down Under our first night there—a popular touring show from Australia featuring the hottest male strippers. It’ll be a fun way to start the trip, to help us let loose. I’ve got a few other ideas in mind as well—some sinful ideas along the line of “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” In a way, I can’t believe the scandalous ideas I’ve come up with, considering I grew up as a prude, but those days are behind me.
I wasn’t kidding when I told Lishelle and Claudia that they need a palate cleanser to get over Glenn and Adam. They need to get laid. And I can’t think of a better place than Las Vegas to help make that happen.
I’m beaming as I hold the telephone receiver to my ear.
“Hello?” my sister says.
“Sam, hi.”
“Annelise?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“You sound incredibly happy. Of course. Dom.”
“And you sound…like you need a break.”
“I had a break in Costa Rica. I came home feeling worse.”
“How does Las Vegas sound?”
“Like an expense I can’t afford right now. I’ve got a bit of savings in the bank but until I find another job, I’ve got to be frugal with my money.”
“You don’t have to worry about the money. I’m paying.”
“Like you can afford that.”
I take a moment to fill Samera in on the great news that I’ll get even more money than I expected from the house. “See, so you have no excuses.”
Samera hesitates before saying, “I don’t think I’d be much fun.”
“You’re going,” I inform her. “I’ve already booked your flight.”
“Annie!”
“I did. I had a feeling I’d have to. Non-refundable. So, you can’t say no.”
Samera moans. “Annie, you shouldn’t have.”
“But I did. Hey, you’re the one who insisted on going to Costa Rica with me. Said we needed to bond as sisters. That trip was the best thing we ever did. Vegas…we’ll bond even more.”
“You sure know how to drive a hard bargain.”
“We leave bright and early on Thursday.”
“Thursday!” Samera exclaims.
“Actually, we don’t have an early-morning flight. We’re booked on Delta, scheduled to leave at close to 1:00 p.m. We’ll arrive in Vegas around two in the afternoon—”
“
This
Thursday?” Samera interjects. “As in two days from now?”
“That’s the date. July twenty-sixth.”
“You’re serious about this.”
“Absolutely. Start packing!”
Next I call Claudia, who resists the idea at first, until I tell her that the trip is paid for—and that Lishelle is going, too. I don’t mention that my sister is also going, because the truth is, Claudia doesn’t know her well, and I don’t want to give her a reason to turn me down. After about five minutes of arm twisting, Claudia agrees to the impromptu getaway, though she sounds somewhat reluctant.
I expect the most resistance from Lishelle, and when I call her at the station, she cuts my suggestion off midsentence.
“I can’t. Gotta work.”
“Actually, you don’t have to—”
“You know I always work weekdays. I can’t book off Thursday and Friday last minute. I’m free Saturday and Sunday, which would barely give me time to fly to Vegas and back.”
“Lishelle?”
“Yes?”
“You didn’t let me finish. You don’t have to go to work because I booked you off from Thursday to Sunday.”
“What?”
“Okay, I’ll be clearer. You don’t have to go in on Thursday. And your next day at work will be Monday—July thirtieth.”
“How—”
“I spoke with Linda Tennant last week because I didn’t want you to have any excuse to say no. Plus, I wanted this to be a surprise.”
“And Linda said yes?” Lishelle asks, her tone saying she’s surprised.
“She did. And quite frankly, she sounded relieved that I was taking you away somewhere. According to her, you’ve been moping around, not at all like your usual self.”
“Moping around?”
“Her words.”
“I ought to smack her. But, if she says I can go, then fuck, I’m outta here.”
“Oh, Lishelle. We’re gonna have a blast,” I tell her, relieved that she’s down with the idea of getting away. “Sin City, watch out!”
“I hear that. Four days of drinking, gambling…”
And a little something extra,
I think.
“You’re a doll. How much will I owe you?”
“Nothing! This is my treat.”
“No, I can’t accept—”
“You can and you will. I’ve got an excellent chunk of change coming my way, probably in the next couple weeks.”
“All right, girl. If you insist.” She still sounds uneasy.
“You can buy the drinks,” I tell her.
“You’re on. Look,” Lishelle says, “I have to get going. But we’ll talk tomorrow at least.”
“For sure.”
I squeal with happiness, and so does she.
“So much to do,” Lishelle says. “So little time.”
“I know, I know. Talk to you later.”
No sooner do I hang up with Lishelle, than I head to the kitchen and snatch up the Yellow Pages. I flip through until I find listings for limo services, and I book one for early Thursday that will pick each of us up.
“Okay,” I say to the person who has confirmed the pickup. “Thursday morning at 8:00 a.m. Thanks a lot.”
“You sound happy.”
I whirl around at the sound of Dominic’s voice. He’s leaning against the wall at the entrance of the kitchen, holding his blazer casually over his shoulder.
He looks sexy as hell.
“Hi, sweetheart.” I get up from a chair at the small kitchen table and float toward him, my arms outstretched. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
Our lips meet first before we fall into a warm hug. Dominic kisses the top of my head before releasing me.
“What are you up to?” he asks.
“Booking the limo for our ride to the airport Thursday morning.” I told Dominic about my plan for the trip last week. “And I told all the girls today. Everyone’s onboard.”
Dominic settles onto the chair I vacated. “So that means you’re leaving me.” He reaches for me and pulls me onto his lap. “For four whole days.”
“Four
long
days. I know.”
Dominic brushes my hair over one shoulder, his fingers skimming the back of my neck as he does. The gentle touch sends shivers of pleasure down my spine. “What am I going to do? All by myself?”
I gyrate my hips against his crotch. He’s already hard, and that makes me wet. “I wish I could take you…”
Dominic cradles the back of my head with his palm and urges my face closer to his. I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead he leans his mouth close to my ear. “Guess we’re going to have to fuck our brains out until you go. Then pick up where we left off when you get back…”
As his teeth graze my earlobe, I moan with pure pleasure. My ear is a definite hot zone on my body, as Dom knows very well. He adds his tongue, flicking it on my earlobe slowly.
“Are you going to miss this?” he whispers.
“You know damn well I am.”
“Know what I love about your ear?” He nibbles on it briefly. “I love how the lobe is so much like your clitoris. It’s fleshy.”
Flick
. “Soft.”
Nibble
. “And when I suck on it—” Dominic does exactly that, suck on my earlobe until I am whimpering, and he groans excitedly. “When I suck on it, your body quivers the same way it does when I suck on your sweet pussy.”
Now, Dominic picks up his game, alternately sucking and nibbling my earlobe the same way he does to my pussy. My sex is instantly moist and pulsing with need and anticipation.
His mouth is pressed right to my ear when he whispers, “Are you taking your vibrator?”
“Forget my vibrator.” I ease my body up and stroke Dominic’s hard cock through his pants. “This is what I want to remember while I’m in Vegas. This is what will get me off at night when I think of you.”
I rain hot kisses all over Dom’s face as I lift my skirt up to my waist and straddle his lap. My vagina presses against his erection, and it feels so good. I cover his mouth with mine, immediately prying his lips apart with my tongue. Heat swallows us whole.
I tear at Dominic’s shirt, letting him know I want it rough. He covers my breasts in response, squeezing them hard before he pushes my cotton shirt up and my bra down in two quick actions. He draws first one nipple into his mouth, sucking it urgently, before doing the same with the other.
“Jeez, Annelise…”
I rub my hand over the hard length of his cock, taking pleasure in the guttural sounds emanating from his throat. I could so easily give up control, throw my head back and let him continue to tease me with his mouth. But I want to give Dominic extra-special attention tonight, show him how much I love having my mouth all over his body as well.
I ease my butt off his lap and kiss his jawline. Dominic’s eyes meet mine in question. He’s wondering why I pulled away from him so hastily. I answer the question when I lower myself onto my knees before him. I make quick work of unfastening Dominic’s belt and undoing his pants, and we both sigh when I free his cock.
Taking it in both my hands, I raise my gaze to his. With our eyes locked, I run my tongue over the tip of his penis. I watch his expression as I cover him with my mouth.
God, I love looking at Dominic’s face as I give him head. The way his eyes narrow and his mouth forms a perfect
O.
I moan as I move my mouth over him, up and down his shaft. I suck on the tip of his cock, and Dominic rakes his fingers through my hair. Some of my blond strands have fallen over my face, and Dominic moves them out of the way so he can better see what I’m doing to him.
I take him into my throat, hold him there for a few seconds while I massage his testicles. Dominic throws his head back and groans in delight.
Very gently, I graze my teeth along the length of his cock, and now a rush of breath escapes Dominic’s lips.
“Your cock is magnificent,” I tell him, then fervently suck on the tip.
“Fuck!”
I trail my tongue from the tip of his penis to its base, where I suck on his balls. Dominic tightens his fingers in my hair, and I think he might come, but instead he urges me upward. His lips are on mine in an instant, his hot tongue tangling with mine.