Authors: Arlene Brathwaite
“No, I’m not.”
“No, he’s not,” Olivia said, walking up on the conversation. “Mr. Andrews, I need to see you in my office.”
“Yes, Miss Martin.” Saint adjusted his glasses and followed Olivia to the back. The way Olivia addressed him had turned him on. She was strictly professional. He was now seeing another side of her. The side that was running a million dollar business. She was wearing a pair of black slacks, a black turtle neck and a pair of open-toed shoes. She walked into her office and held the door for him.
Saint walked in. A quick glance, told him Olivia definitely had an eye for decorating. She closed the door. Before Saint had a chance to put his briefcase down, Olivia walked into his arms and wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Miss Martin—”
“Oh shut up, Clayton and just hold me.”
“Everything’s going to be fine, Olivia.”
She looked up at him. “I didn’t’ know you wore prescription glasses. You look good in them, in a Clarke Kent kind of way.”
“Are you calling me your Superman?”
Olivia pushed him away from her. She walked around her desk and sat down. Saint put his briefcase down, walked around her desk, and stood behind her chair. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders. Olivia had a flashback and started to stand up, but Saint held her down.
“Girl, you are so tense. I won’t put you to sleep this time. I promise.”
Olivia stopped moving and let Saint do his thing. She felt the stress quickly leaving her shoulders. His fingertips didn’t tickle her soul the way they did the other night, but they still brought a smile to her face. Her intercom chirped.
“Olivia, Jon-Jon is here,” Miki said.
“Tell him I’m too busy to mess with him today.”
“He’s jumping down my throat about you interviewing a Lynise Rogers for a job.”
“Oh, God,” Olivia sighed.
“I’ll be outside waiting on Marion Claude,” Saint said.
“We will continue this at a later time.”
Saint didn’t respond. He just picked up his briefcase and walked out.
“Miki, send my brother in.”
A few minutes later, Jon-Jon walked in with his college girlfriend. Olivia was impressed. She looked to be twenty-four, twenty-five, slim and sophisticated looking. She was rocking a pair of army fatigued boy shorts, showcasing her long legs and a matching vest. But what caught Olivia’s attention were her shoes. Olivia was a shoe connoisseur. Lynise had on a pair of El Dantes.
“Sis, this is Lynise.”
Olivia stood up to shake her hand.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Martin,” Lynise said with an accent Olivia couldn’t quite place.
“What you got going on today, sis? You got reporters, and everything out there. You got Puffy coming down? Oh shit that’s what I’m talking about, yeah.”
“Calm down, Jon-Jon. Puffy isn’t coming here. I got some people from overseas coming.”
“They got it going on like Puffy?”
“Listen, I’m kind of busy right now—”
“C’mon, sis, Lynise took off from school to come down here. Don’t hit me with the come-back-tomorrow line. You don’t even have to interview her. You’re just going through the motions anyway, right? She can start right now. It looks like you’re going to need all the help you can get today.”
Olivia leaned back in her chair. “Did you bring your resume?”
“Ah—”
“Here’s her resume,” Jon-Jon said, pointing to his braids. Lynise had braided his hair in the fashion of a spider web.
“A lot of the work I did was under the table,” she said.
“Well, everything here is done above the table.”
“Yes, I know. I’m dying to get a real paycheck.”
“Okay you braid hair, what else?”
“I do manicures, pedicures, weaves, fusions—”
“We don’t do weaves and fusions here.” Olivia pressed the button on her intercom. “Miki, send Baby in here.”
Baby knocked on the door a minute later and stuck her head in. What’s up, boss?”
“This is Lynise. We’re going to be extremely busy today, and she needs a job, so, I’m going to give her a try.”
“On a day like today?” Baby asked.
“Yes, today.”
“Whatever you say, ma.”
“Thank you Miss Martin,” Lynise said.
“Call me Olivia.”
“C’mon,” Baby said to Lynise. “I’ll show you around, introduce you to the rest of the team, and then show you my station.”
Jon-Jon hugged Olivia. “I love you, sis.”
“I need you to be on your best behavior today.”
“C’mon, this is me you talking to,” Jon-Jon said, beating his chest.
“David, Mike, and Shawn said they’re going to stop by later on.”
“They the ones you need to be telling to be on their best behavior. Especially, Mike. He thinks he’s the shit now, because he got a license to walk around with a gun.”
“Work with me, Jon-Jon.”
“I got you, sis. Don’t even worry about it.”
“Now, if you don’t mind, I got to finish meeting with Clayton.”
“The dude that left the office when we came in?”
“Yes.”
“He’s the accountant?”
“Not today, Jon-Jon.”
“Sis, I’m on my best behavior.” He opened the door and looked both ways. He saw Saint talking with Glenn and made eye contact with him. He called him over. As Saint walked into the office, Jon-Jon closed the door.
“What’s up, duke?”
“Hi,”
“You seeing my sister?”
“Jon-Jon—” Olivia started.
Jon-Jon held his hand up for her not to interrupt him. “I think you need to ask your sister that.”
“I’m asking you, duke.” Saint didn’t respond.
Jon-Jon looked him up and down. “You got a business card or something?”
“I don’t use business cards.”
“So, how can people get in touch with you?”
“My clients know how to get in touch with me.”
“What about a person who’s not one of your clients?”
“Then we don’t have anything to talk about.”
“You sure you ain’t a lawyer, ‘cause you got a slick mouth.”
“Jon-Jon!!” Olivia started walking toward him.
“All right, all right, I’m out of here,” he said, opening the door and letting himself out.
Saint folded his arms. “I like him already.”
At one o’clock on the dot, a fleet of Mercedes Limos turned off of Madison. Saint knew they were there by the way the reporters were scrambling. Four blonde, bombshells, quadruplets, stepped out of the first limo, wearing dresses designed by Laurent Petrescu. The women stood on each side of the door as Petrescu stepped out holding the hand of a bombshell that looked like the first four. The women were in fact quintuplets. Cameras were clicking, reporters were talking into their mini tape recorders. Out of the next three limos came mixed couples of different nationalities, and the last ones to exit the limos were the designers of the fashions that the models were showcasing. The last, and the longest, limo dramatically rolled up. The chauffeur stepped out and walked around to the backdoor and didn’t open it until he heard a soft tap on the window.
As he swung the door open a set of looong legs appeared.
The face of the woman to whom they belong to finally came into view. The Glamazon was six-two, blue eyes, and had flamingred hair. Everyone’s attention went back to the door where another set of looong legs stepped out onto the sidewalk. An exact replica of the Glamazon exited the limo and stood to her full six-two height. Both women were wearing identical, body-hugging dresses. Long slits up the sides let everyone know that the Glamazon twins were wearing French-cut panties. Both women stood on the sidewalk awaiting the appearance of their benefactor.
Marion Claude stepped out of the limo greeting the cameras with the Miss America wave. Reporters shot a couple questions at him, to which he only smiled, and pretended to be looking for someone.
“I do not know how you found out that I would be here,” he said, with a surprised look. “I am here only to visit a
very
dear friend of mine, Miss Olivia Martin. Now, if you will excuse me.” Marion Claude looped his arms around the waists of the flaming red head, super model twins, and headed for Butta Cutz. Olivia greeted him at the door. He embraced her and kissed her on both cheeks like they’d known each other for years. Before he pulled away from her, he whispered in her ear.
“I’m impressed. I was expecting only a couple reporters.”
Olivia winked at him as she ushered him inside.
Olivia introduced all of her employees to Marion Claude, and Marion Claude introduced them to the other fashion designers. Marion Claude complimented Olivia on the decorations, and even commented loud enough for the reporters to hear.
“Anyone who does not come to Butta Cutz is not worth the air he breathes. This is the Mecca of men salons in the West.” He looked to the front door and waved at the men with boxes in their hands to come in. Men, who looked to be second-string models, brought in boxes of all sizes. Now, it was Olivia’s turn to act surprised. Marion Claude insisted she open them right there in the reception area. When she opened the first one, she didn’t have to act surprised anymore. The first box contained a dress with a design so intricate that she knew it was one of a kind. The next was a velvet box from Petrescu. Olivia opened it and she was at a loss for words. Baby, Grace and Esther were stunned. Olivia pulled out the tennis bracelet and marveled at the different color stones glistening in the sunlight. Olivia knew how much something like this cost. What she didn’t know was how could Petrescu afford to just give it to her as a gift? Every box that she opened, the cameras were there clicking away, and Marion Claude was right by her side.
After Marion Claude’s “gift extravaganza,” he removed his jacket and allowed Olivia to lead him to her chair. She was telling Grace and the rest of her team to tend to the others when Marion Claude stopped her.
“Don’t worry about them. They are only here as decorations.” Olivia looked around, and then she noticed that that’s exactly what they looked like. Everyone had picked a spot in the salon to stand or sit and they preformed for the cameras and the crowd.
Marion allowed one reporter to interview him as Olivia cut his hair. He spoke of his humble beginnings as a salesman in a shabby fabric store in Paris. He then went to Baby’s station where she prepped him for a manicure and pedicure. Baby worked on his hands as Lynise worked on his feet. Olivia stood by and watched, to see if Lynise knew what she was doing. Olivia nodded her head in approval.
Saint sat at the reception desk with Miki naming the hottest clubs in Japan. While he went back and forth with her, he kept his eyes roving on everything, and everyone. All the while, Jon-Jon kept his eyes on him. Saint knew he was clocking him, but he didn’t let on.
Saint caught movement at the front door. A burly cop walked in. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t carrying.
Jon-Jon saw the police officer the same time Saint did. A big smile grew on his face. He gorilla-walked to the cop, and gave him a pound and a hug. He whispered something to the cop, while pointing over his shoulder in Saint’s direction. The cop locked eyes with Saint and nodded slowly. The beast in the cop uniform softened when Olivia ran over and hugged him. That must be brother number two, Saint thought. Olivia looked his way and winked. He adjusted his glasses and gave her a little wave. One of the flaming red heads walked over to Olivia and whispered something to her. Olivia followed her to Baby’s workstation. Marion Claude said something to Olivia which made her look in Saint’s direction. She nodded and then walked toward him.
Saint bristled.
“Marion Claude said he would like to talk to you in private. I told him that you two can use my office.”
“Did he say what he wanted to talk about?”
“No. You can wait in my office. Baby’s just about finished with him. I’ll send him in.”
“Okay.”
Ten minutes later, Marion Claude walked in. “Mr. Andrews,” he said, extending his hand. Saint shook it. “I am honored to be breathing the same air as you.” Marion sat on the sofa and looked him up and down. “When I got a call from Josephine, telling me that the man sitting at my table, selling me a dress was her infamous Saint, I nearly shitted my pants.”
Saint didn’t show any emotion to the apparent sign of respect.
“But she assured me that you weren’t there on business.”
“What else did she tell you?”
“She told me to behave myself.”
“Are you?”
“I have to, now that I know the eyes of the Saint are on me.”
What?
Saint screamed in his head.
Josephine what the fuck did you tell this man?
“You no doubt know that I am a very wealthy man. Anything in the world that I want, I can have. ANYTHING,” Marion Claude stressed.
“I don’t see how that’s any of my business, but I’m sure you’re about to connect the dots for me.”
“Name your price. From one to infinity, and I swear on my mother’s grave, may God rest her soul, I won’t argue with you. It will be in your account with just one phone call from me.”