“Good afternoon, ma'am. Thank you for coming to Saks Fifth Avenue today. We are in-store personal shoppers. If we can be of assistance today please let us know. We are happy to help you with whatever your needs are during your shopping experience,” the tallest of the three women spoke up. The other two nodded and smiled brightly. It must've been the oversize new season Chanel bag I had slung on my shoulder. Or maybe it was the Rolex gleaming from my wrist. Maybe I just looked like I had money. There had to be a reason these women rushed up to me all willing to wait on me. I'm sure they didn't do it to every customer that walked in. Whatever the reason it had made me feel great. I hadn't had the personal shopping experience since Matt had lost everything.
“Oh thank you,” I said, smiling back at the three women. “I think I will use the service,” I told them proudly. One of the women who had introduced herself as Rosy ushered me to a sitting area that was past the jewelry, perfume, and makeup counters. Damn I felt special as all of the different saleswomen smiled and nodded at me. I'm sure they were hoping I made a purchase from their department so they could get their commissions.
“You can sit here and we will bring you our catalogs. As you find items that you're interested in you can request them and we will bring them here to you for fittings and try-ons. You are not obligated to buy anything,” Rosy said cheerfully with that same warm and inviting smile she had greeted me with. Then she introduced the other two women as Deana and Chris. They were also smiling brightly. It was an amazing feeling having these three white women wait on me hand and foot.
Chris handed me a silver tray filled with small French pastries and chocolate-covered strawberries. Then she asked if I wanted champagne, water, or any other beverage. Of course, I went for the champagne. This might've been a once-in-a-lifetime thing. I was going to take everything they were offering. I had so much fun trying on clothes and shoes. The ladies helped me put together more than one beautiful expensive designer ensemble that was complete with matching shoes and handbags. Within an hour I had tried on about six different Diane von Furstenberg dresses, two Nicole Miller pantsuits, a few Topshop sporty tops, and at least ten different styles and cuts of all of the newest designer jeans. I was in shoe heaven, too. Rosy, Deana, and Chris were laughing saying they would have to live vicariously through me as they brought out every designer shoe you could think ofâValentino, Christian Louboutin, Altuzarra, Brian Atwood, Charlotte Olympia, and Jimmy Chooâto name a few. I wanted to buy every pair I tried on. When I was finished shopping, I finally plopped down on one of the comfortable recliners in the personal shopping suite and I looked around.
“I did some real damage in here today, huh?” I said to Rosy. There were about forty shoe boxes scattered around the floor, at least ten pairs of jeans that all cost over three hundred dollars folded for purchase, and more than one mink vest laid out on the chaise longue for me to pick from. Forget about the handbags. All of the newest premier designer bags were neatly placed atop a glass countertop so that I could choose which ones I wanted to buy and which ones I wanted to leave.
“I just cannot leave this Christian Louboutin and Louis Vuitton collaboration bag here. I have to have it,” I said to Deana.
“Oh yes. There are only two hundred being made world-wide. It's an exclusive, that is why I chose it for you. I can tell you must love bags,” she replied. The scene was probably every woman's dream. I felt like a real rich person. This is how they got to live every single day. It was a thought that made me mad because I did have to beg, borrow, and steal just to be on their level.
I made all of Rosy, Deana, and Chris's efforts worth their while. I purchased over sixty thousand dollars' worth of shoes, clothes, handbags, and perfumes. I also gave each of them a two hundred dollar tip. By the time I was ready to leave Saks the three of them were clamoring to get me anything I wanted. I didn't even have to carry my items back to my hotel myself. Rosy used the Saks-to-home service and told me my items would be delivered to my hotel room that evening. I think if those chicks could've carried me back to my hotel they would have, that is how much they appreciated my business.
I left Saks feeling like I was sitting on top of the world. I was a little tipsy from downing all of the champagne in the personal shopping suite too. I stopped in a few more high-end Fifth Avenue stores and purchased a couple of little things but nothing compared to the damage I had done in Saks. I was still feeling nicely buzzed but I was also hungry. I decided to stop at a swanky little restaurant and bar down on Sixth Avenue to grab something to eat and maybe a few more drinks. I figured the more tipsy I got the better chances of me getting some sleep later that night. Shopping and drinking, a combination that was sure to be an exhausting sleeping potion. I hoped.
When I exited my cab I noticed that another cab had pulled right up behind me. Out of peripheral vision I could see a man racing to get in front of me. I paused for a minute and my heart rate sped up. I mean, New York was still considered a dangerous place too.
I paused for a few seconds and noticed that the guy was going to the same place as me. He smiled at me and as I approached the door, he pulled it open and allowed me to step inside first.
“You didn't have to do all that,” I said to him, finally taking a good look at him. He was a tall, handsome, cinnamon-colored hunk. He was dressed neatly in a collared shirt open at the neck, a sleek, neat-fitting blazer, and a pair of jeans that looked like they were custom-made for him.
“Beautiful ladies shouldn't open their own doors,” he said with the sexiest deep baritone.
“Why thank you,” I said, flashing my gleaming white smile at him. The sound of his voice got me feeling good and flirtatious at the same time. It had been a long time since I'd had those feelings.
“No thanks needed,” the sexy stranger said. His smile was perfect and so was the one dimple in his right cheek.
As hot as he was, I wasn't interested in starting something in New York. I was just passing through, so I put him from my mind and I walked over to the bar. As I sat down, I could see that the place wasn't crowded, but it wasn't completely empty, either. There were quite a few people there for it to be so early in the day. This was why I loved the feel of New York. There was just a different type of pulse to the city. I looked around thinking if I were still back in Virginia Beach this place probably wouldn't have a soul inside. Those guys down there were so into chain restaurants and bars that a place like this wouldn't have done well at all.
“Let me have a cosmo, please,” I said to the female bartender. She smiled at me.
“Getting your
Sex and the City
on?” she joked, nodding at the bags I had on the stool next to me.
“I'm trying,” I replied, returning the smile.
“Where are you from?” she asked. I crumpled my face a little. I thought it was a little forward and nosy of her to be asking me a question like that.
“I'm asking because I can hear your accent. It's definitely not from up north,” she clarified.
“Damn, is it that obvious? I'm trying to fit in 'round here,” I said with a little nervous laugh. I didn't want it to be that easy for people to call me out.
“Yeah. Definitely a Southern accent. If you're trying to pass yourself off as a New Yorker you better go take some lessons because I knew right away you were an out-of-towner. I'm sure everyone you've spoken to can tell you're not from here,” the bartender said. It was something I had never thought of. As I started my new life, did I really want people to peg me as a Southerner? She was right, I needed to work on my accent.
“Trust me, I'm not trying to pass myself off as a New Yorker, I'm just not eager for everybody to know I'm an out-of-towner,” I told her. We both laughed.
“I'm Delilah. Born and raised in Brooklyn,” the bartender said.
“Laur . . . um . . . Lauriel,” I said, stumbling. I had almost slipped up and told her my real name. Shit, I'd have to be quicker and smoother with my responses. After spending two weeks on the low in the hotel room, I hadn't had a chance to try out the new persona I'd created for my new life outside of Virginia Beachâmy fake background, new accent, etc. I needed to be really focused about my new persona. I didn't want to fuck up and drop info that would lead Matt to me. Since I might not ever see this bartender again, it was good practice for me to get used to using the alias that Ryan had put on the fake identification I had purchased from him.
I chopped it up with the bartender about good places to go out and things to see in New York. It wasn't until I felt someone lightly brush me as they moved in to sit next to me at the bar that I realized the stranger from the door had decided to act on our attraction. I had caught him staring at me a few times since we'd been there but I had acted like I didn't see him. Honestly, I couldn't help but see his fine ass. He was definitely a gorgeous man. All of the women in the bar were ogling him too.
“Can I buy you that next drink?” he asked me. I felt my cheeks flush red. I had been out of the dating scene for so long I was blushing as soon as he opened his mouth to speak to me. I had to play it off.
“How about we do this the reverse way and let me buy you a drink?” I replied smoothly. His eyebrows shot up on his face.
“A lady who likes to take the lead. I like that. I knew there was something about you that I liked from the time I saw you get out of your taxi,” he said.
“He will have a Hennessy sidecar,” I told Delilah. The gorgeous stranger started laughing.
“Damn and you just order what you want me to drink, too,” he chuckled.
“Well, I'm paying so I'm saying,” I joked. “Plus, you look like a Hennessy type of dude.”
“I hear that,” he said. “I'll take that.”
“By the way, I'm Drake,” he said, extending his hand.
“Lauriel,” I said without any hesitation this time.
“Lauriel . . . hmmm . . . nice name. Sounds like a fake one though,” Drake said, followed by a little awkward chuckle. A quick flash of nerves flitted through my chest but I played it cool.
“I could say the same about the name Drake,” I told him. “Sounds real fake.”
We both laughed. I spent hours laughing and talking with my new friend Drake. I had no idea that there was no such thing as real chance meetings like this one, but I would soon find out.
YANCY
O
h shit!
I. Did. Not. See. That. Coming.
I slid down in the seat of my Mustang. I was across the street from Lauren and Matt's condo, waiting to see if that bitch changed her mind and came home. With my money. I still couldn't believe she'd got the jump on me. I knew I shouldn't have left without my cut.
I'd been there a couple of hours, even ordered food delivered to my car. I never imagined I'd witness this crazy shit.
Lauren and Matt's condo was on a pretty nice block and you usually didn't see people hanging out. Most folks got where they're headed by car, so that's why I noticed two black opsâlooking motherfuckas when they jumped out of a van. If I hadda blinked, I woulda missed them enter the condo. Real quick and stealthy. That shit didn't look good.
About two minutes later, I saw the lights go on in the place and shadows dancing in the window. But they weren't doing no fuckin' waltz. That shit looked crazy. I saw Matt's shadow tossed across the room, then held up by the collar. Looked like they were asking questions and not getting the answers they wanted. The whole thing looked like the bloodiest fight since Mayweather . . . no Tyson . . . no it was more like
Kill Bill
shit, 'cept Matt could hardly get a lick in. I think I heard Matt scream like a bitch but I couldn't be too sure.
Then there was the smoke. Yep, they torched the place. Probably to cover up Matt's body, 'cause they sure did a number on him. As the black plumes snaked out the windows, I saw the van pull up again. The goons popped out of the condo, jumped in, and sped off. If I'd taken a break to piss, I woulda missed the whole thing.
When I heard the sirens in the distance, I decided it was time for me to leave the scene too. I put my Mustang in gear, hit the gas . . . and hit the brakes when I saw Matt in my rearview window, crawling along the sidewalk outside the condo. How that nigga got out so quickly was anyone's guess. But I laughed like the Joker at his broke-down ass. Madness! I'd have to come back later and get Matt's story, but right now, I needed to bust the hell up outta here!