All Up In My Business (30 page)

“Toussaint!” Alexis clutched her throat, having almost come out of her skin at the sound of his voice. Anger quickly replaced fear and covered the instant heat Alexis had felt at the sight of him. “What do you think you’re doing? You scared me half to death.”

Toussaint stopped a few feet from her. He wanted to crush her in his arms, wanted to kiss that succulent mouth that he’d dreamed of all week. But he held himself in check.
My baby. How I’ve missed you
.

“You haven’t returned my calls.”

“Yeah, well, that ought to tell you something.” Having recovered, Alexis brushed past him and walked briskly to the elevator. Toussaint effortlessly fell into step beside her, her hurried steps no match for his long strides.

“I’ve missed you, Alexis. There’s so much I want to say.”

“I think Shyla in our suite said it all, don’t you think?”

“What it said was that I hadn’t effectively ended that relationship. That she hadn’t gotten the message, hadn’t understood it when I told her that she and I were finished.”

“Well, was she still half naked when you went back to the suite and had the conversation?” Alexis hissed as the elevator doors opened and she hurried inside. She was more than thankful that her ire kept her mouth from watering at the sight of Toussaint’s lips or from licking the cleft in his chin. When she got to her car, she pressed the unlock button on her key fob, knowing that if she could just get inside her car and close the door, she’d prevent herself from doing something stupid, like throwing herself into his arms.

“Wait,” Toussaint demanded, placing his hand on the glass and preventing Alexis from closing the door. “I want to talk to you, Alexis. Don’t you think I at least deserve to tell my side of the story, to tell you what happened in LA and, more importantly, what happened when I got back to Atlanta?”

Alexis slumped back in the seat. “I know you fired Shyla,” she said, sighing.

“Then you know that she is out of my life, in every way.” Toussaint’s heart leaped, and he felt a glimmer of hope that he’d get things back on track with the woman he loved.

“I’m late,” Alexis said, starting the car. Her emotions were roiling. She needed time and space away from Toussaint. Where she could think. And breathe.

“So just like that, you’re going to drive away. Even though I’ve tried nonstop for seven straight days to reach you and am wearing my heart on my sleeve?”

Alexis put the car into gear. She took a deep breath and
looked up into Toussaint’s chocolate, bedroom eyes. For the first time, she noticed a wisp of a mustache.
Great, so he can look even more fine
. “Can I close my door, please?”

Toussaint looked at her for another moment, then stepped back and allowed the door to close.

Alexis backed out of her space. She looked in her rearview mirror and saw Toussaint’s folded arms and wide-legged stance as he watched her drive away. She almost made it to the parking structure exit before she stopped, put the car in reverse, and backed up to where her lover still stood. She rolled down her window with quiet resignation. “You want to go see a movie?”

They didn’t get to the movies. Instead, Toussaint directed them to a quiet bar in the area. There he poured his heart out, telling her how he’d turned the hotel upside down until he’d gotten to the bottom of how Shyla ended up in his room. How the concierge worker had been fired and how management heads had rolled. He told her how he’d talked with Ace that very evening, and by the time he’d returned to Atlanta, he had Shyla’s severance package ready. How he’d presented it to her the following Monday in a take-it-or-leave it, one-sided conversation, where there was no room for discussion or compromise.

“Your aunt was right. I should have talked to you immediately, listened to your side of the story. But I was so hurt.”

“Of course you were. I can’t imagine how you felt, walking in and finding Shyla in the same bed we’d shared just hours before. Given my history, your assumption was wrong, but it was justified.”

“I’m sorry, Toussaint.”

Finally, Toussaint felt it okay to leave his side of the booth and sit next to Alexis.

“I’ve missed you, baby,” he said, gently stroking her cheek. “I’ve missed you too.”

He lightly rubbed a finger over her mouth. “I’ve missed these.”

Alexis eyed Toussaint’s lips and licked hers. “I’ve missed yours too.”

Toussaint’s voice dropped to a husky whisper. “May I have a kiss?”

Alexis nodded, already melting by the look of love and longing in his eyes. He aggressively tongued his way into her mouth, crushed his lips on hers, and wrapped her in his arms. Alexis felt a jolt of electricity as she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and turned to deepen the kiss. Warning bells of self-preservation went off in her mind, about the danger of dating a Livingston, the potential hurt, deception, deceit that could lurk behind every business trip, every closed door, every female customer at a Taste of Soul restaurant. Alexis heard the bells, but soon their sound was drowned out by the desire in her heart and by the love that encouraged her to throw caution to the wind.

When Toussaint requested the check and they walked back to Alexis’s car, she knew something for sure: She might again hear the bells of caution tomorrow, but she was going to dance to the music of ecstasy tonight.

“S
he looks just like you.” Joyce stood behind Malcolm, who was seated in his office. They were waiting on Joyce’s friend Bernice, who worked with QVC.

“Yeah, I guess she does,” Malcolm replied. He fingered the picture of his fifth child, taken one month ago, when Victory was just one week old. He ran his finger over the cherubic face, his daughter’s eyes tightly closed and lips puckered. Lips that looked like his. Malcolm’s mind went back to the night in his man cave, when his father had demanded he do the right thing and support his wife. He’d gone to the master’s suite shortly after they left and found Victoria lying in bed, chatting with her mother.

“I need to speak to my wife, Valarie, alone.” Valarie paused, and then continued talking to Victoria as if Malcolm hadn’t spoken. “Now, please.”

Slowly, Valarie turned to face him, a look of pure disgust on her face. “Oh, so when you finally decide to pay Victoria some attention, I’m supposed to scurry off somewhere, fade into the scenery? Whatever you have to say to my daughter, you can say with me present. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Mom, please …”

“Please what? This is the man who left you alone, Victoria, who wasn’t present when you labored for three hours before giving birth!”

“Mom, enough!” Victoria winced from the pain that yelling had caused her. Malcolm rushed to her side. “Please leave, Mom. I want to talk to Malcolm—alone.”

“And just so you know, I relieved your nurse, Doris,” Malcolm said. Valarie turned to argue but he put up his hand. “Don’t worry, a new nurse will be here in the morning, one that her doctor recommended. I appreciate all you’ve done, Valarie, but this is still my house and Victoria is still my wife. Thank you, and good night.”

“Well … I …” A stuttering Valarie rushed out of the room and down the stairs. The slamming of the door marked her departure.

Malcolm gingerly sat on the bed and took Victoria’s hand. It was the first intentional touch in months. “I know I said it before, but I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you and Victory. I should have been, and I feel awful about it.”

Tears welled up in Victoria’s eyes. She placed her hand on top of his. “And I forgive you, Malcolm. True, you weren’t at the hospital when Victory was born, but I haven’t been here for you either. Your mother warned me years ago about giving all of my love to the children and leaving none for you. But I didn’t listen. I made excuses. And the next thing I knew, we were like strangers in our own house.”

“It wasn’t just you, Victoria. You focused on the kids and I focused on work.”

“We’ve made a mess of our marriage, Malcolm. But I’ll do everything in my power to make things right again. I’ll lose the weight, quit that church, even go back to working for the company if that’s what you want.”

Malcolm looked at Victoria, and for the first time in
months, maybe years, saw the woman he married—the caring, adoring woman he once loved.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but do you think we can get it back, the magic that was there when we first got married?”

Malcolm’s eyes were misty and his voice hoarse as he answered, “We can try.”

Malcolm stood abruptly, shaking off the hand lightly kneading his shoulder. Joyce felt and saw the change in attitude immediately. “Do we have the numbers from consumer testing?” he asked. He walked over to the desk in his office, papers strewn everywhere even though it was the weekend.

“Yes, they’re right here, along with the testimonials. I’ve also compiled a promotion with the video footage that was shot of customers who tested the smoker. Would you like to see it?”

Instead of answering, Malcolm crossed to his office’s sitting area. A flat-screen television was mounted on the wall, viewable from both the chairs and love seat. Joyce scurried to her briefcase, retrieved the DVD, and joined him there. He put the disc in the player, turned it on, and sat on the love seat. Joyce took a tentative seat beside him, close but not touching. Her eyes watched the people on the screen, heard their words of praise about the device that produced a perfectly cooked piece of meat every time, but her mind whirled. Malcolm had been different since shortly after Victory’s birth. She’d asked him what was wrong, had tried to gauge where he was in his marriage and whether there was a chance for them to have anything more than they already did, but he’d shut down emotionally for the first time since they shared that dinner at FGO.

“She’s excellent,” Joyce commented as she and Malcolm watched a charming redhead clasp her hands in glee after the chicken she’d pulled from the soul smoker fell off the bone.
“They might be able to use her testimonial in promotions leading up to your appearance on the show.”

“I appreciate everything you’re doing,” Malcolm said, eyeing Joyce intently. “I’m going to make sure you’re compensated for all the help you’ve given me.”

“I’m not helping you just for financial gain,” Joyce said, hurt evident in her voice. “I love you, Malcolm. I—”

Joyce was interrupted by a knock on the door. Upon Malcolm’s directive, the security guard entered, escorting Joyce’s associate, Bernice, the QVC producer.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” she said after Joyce made the introductions. “I’ve heard a lot about this Soul Smoker!”

“Well, I hope you’re hungry,” Malcolm replied with a grin. “Because I’m getting ready to let you taste what all the hype is about!”

It was well after ten p.m. when Malcolm entered the kitchen from the garage. He was exhausted but elated at how the meeting with the QVC producer had gone. She had raved about the ribs she ate and was equally impressed with the chicken and links. Joyce had given her a copy of the DVD, which the producer planned to take back to the network in order to develop the strategy for introducing Malcolm Livingston’s Soul Smoker to America.

Bypassing the den and his usual two-finger cognac drink, Malcolm climbed the stairs and headed to the nursery. Opening the door slowly, softly, he tiptoed inside. The plastic sunshine on the nightlight bathed the room in a soft, golden glow. He walked over to the crib where Victory lay on her back, sleeping soundly. A smile played across her lips, and she squirmed slightly at Malcolm’s touch. Malcolm reached out a thick forefinger and smoothed down a wisp of his daughter’s straight, black hair. With that same finger, he touched her tiny hand. Victory opened her small palm, clasped her father’s finger, and continued sleeping. Malcolm’s heart clenched as it
opened up. This was his daughter, his fifth, beautiful, wonderful child.

“Hi, Victory. It’s Daddy,” Malcolm whispered. He leaned down and breathed in her fresh, baby scent.
She’s perfect
, he thought as he folded back the blanket and rubbed a light hand over her long limbs and round, milk-full belly. “I think you’re going to be tall, like your uncle,” Malcolm said softly to the still-sleeping child. He leaned down and kissed her. “Daddy loves you,” he said, and quietly left the room.

Malcolm walked to the guest bedroom he still occupied. He opened the door and was surprised to see Victoria there, sitting on his bed. She wore a sheer white, floor-length negligee. He stood just inside the door, standing, waiting.

“I had my six-week checkup yesterday,” Victoria said. Her voice was soft, tentative. “The doctor said I was healed enough for intercourse. I want to have sex with you, Malcolm, tonight.”

Malcolm stepped inside and closed the door. He pulled off his jacket as he walked to his wife. He stopped in front of her, and without a word began to strip. When he was naked, he reached for her hand. “Are you sure?”

Victoria stood. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

They reached the master suite and lay on the bed. Slowly, but surely, Malcolm became reacquainted with his wife’s body. He ran his finger over her scar and then kissed it. Victoria explored his body and soon rubbed him into hardness. She turned on her side and directed him to enter from behind.
You should spend the rest of your life being faithful to your wife. How you feel while you’re doing that is up to you
. Malcolm couldn’t predict the future. There was a lot of hard work ahead to get back to the love he and Victoria once shared. But as he parted her folds and began the physical journey of their reconciliation, for the first time in a long time, Malcolm was optimistic.

“Y
ou’re back in the bedroom, Candace. Be thankful for that.”

“Yes, Diane, but we still haven’t made love. He says that whenever he gets ready to, he thinks about me being with Q. It’s messing with his mind, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Adam had invited Candace back into the master suite right after hearing that Q’s gym had been closed down. That night, he’d hugged her close to him, and she’d fallen asleep in his arms. But when she’d reached for his penis and began to stroke it, he’d turned away from her—something he hadn’t done in thirty-plus years of marriage. They’d talked the next day, and he’d bared his soul, told her how her cheating had affected his manhood, made him doubt his ability to satisfy her, made him feel that he’d be compared to a tall, buff brothah twenty years his junior. Candace still cringed as she remembered these revelations and how they were met with her silence. Quintin Bright was like no other man she’d ever known, a stallion who’d sexed her to within an inch of her life. He was nine inches of hard, pounding flesh, and on his weakest days had far surpassed Adam on his best. So how, she’d wondered, was she supposed to answer a statement like that?