I Never Said I Was a Good Girl (3 page)

I laugh along with her and point to the Louboutin rack on the wall.
“You know you can be sooooo petty. Go ahead and pick out your polish.”

I decided to check my phone while she is looking at the polish. I see that I have about seven texts from Zurich which is no shock and a text from a number that is not saved to my phone. I click on the message and realize it is from Omari. I smile as I read it and think ‘oh I am going to have to let him sweat it out for a little bit.’

Rachelle walks back with the red Starlight polish from the Louboutin limited edition collection in her right hand while the left hand is planted firmly on her hip as she put in a little extra swing in her hips to the beat of the current song wafting down from the sound system, ‘Drunk in Love’ by the other B; Beyoncé. I put my phone down. “
Come sit those narrow hips down in this chair so I can finish girl,”
I tell her. The wait time is long enough without her acting like she’s trying out for Dancing with the Stars in the middle of my salon. Once she sits back down, I complete her polish and add some acrylic white roses with brown stems and green leaves and some thorns- cause Rachelle can stick people the wrong way sometimes. To give her set a little bling, I strategically place some diamond color crystals on four of her nails.

“B, you DID your thaaang on this set!”
she says rolling her neck and holding her hands up in front of her face for a better viewing angle.

“You know I couldn’t do it any other way! Let me get a couple of pictures for my Instagram and FB.”
After I take several shots I say,
“Come back soon. Amber will ring you up and schedule your next appointment at the receptionist desk.”

“See ya Hon!!”
She says as she walks off still admiring her manicure.

Sometime after ten o’clock the last client leaves the salon and we lock the doors. I damn near collapse in the waiting area as I sit on the sofa.  I decide now would be the time to ask Chyna about Omari as we wait for Amber to run the reports and vacuum the carpet while I count today’s take.

“So where do you know Omari from?”
I ask as calmly as I can, still picturing his smile in my mind.

“I’ve known him for about a year. We met on some business stuff and it has turned out to be pretty lucrative for both of us. So when he mentioned he was looking for a full time nail and makeup professional, naturally I thought of YOU,”
she says as she gives me the side eye.

I give her a smirk
“So he is on some straight business shit, huh?”

“Look I don’t know what is on the man’s mind now that he has seen you, but I know what we talked about prior! All I can say is I invited him to the grand opening and he showed up so at a minimum it’s business. Anything more than that is gonna be up to you two consenting adults,” Chyna answers laughing.

“Well, speaking of ‘adult behavior’, when I saw you two interacting I thought he was auditioning to be YOUR new boo!”
I point at her to emphasize what I’m saying while I put deposit slip, cash, checks and receipts in their proper places.

Chyna looks at me with her serious face on and says “
B, STOP, you know I am dating Joaquin.”

Without thinking I reply
“Chyna it’s not dating if one of the parties is married.”
I could tell by the look on Chyna’s face that I really picked the wrong time to say that.
“Honey I am sorry I just know you deserve so much more.”

“Brazille, you always think that you know what is best for someone else but where is your Prince Charming? And why does it seems like you can never apply your opinions to yourself and have them work out? I am gone.”
Chyna unlocks the door and storms out without looking back.

Amber and I finish the clean-up and head out for the night.

“Goodnight Ms. English. Today turned out fabulously!”

I finish locking the door and turn around just in time to see Amber fling her long thick blond hair out of her face.
“It sure did Amber and you were one of the reasons why. See you on Monday.”

In spite of starting off a little rocky, Polished by Brazille’s had a great opening day. I decide not to think about those calls from this morning. After all, I see nothing but success in front of me and I am not going to let anyone, not even Chyna with her funky attitude, bring me down today. I slide into Pane, toss my Choos on the passenger seat- having traded them in for my Gucci slippers before lunch even rolled around- and head home. Tired but content.

Chapter 5: Chyna

I storm out of Brazille’s salon thinking to myself, ‘Who the fuck is she to judge me? Miss perfect always acting like she has always made the best decisions. Bye Felicia. Please, don’t come for me until you have all your shit in order. Oh I guess now because you got your little shop open, you can start looking your nose down at ME!’ I really wanted to slap the piss out of her. As I drive home, walk into my house and start to run myself some bath water, I replay in my mind her statement ‘It’s not dating if one of the parties is married.’

I lean my head back on the edge of the tub ‘Who am I kidding? I am not mad at Brazille. She’s right.’

I don’t know what I was thinking getting involved with Joaquin. I close my eyes and let the day we first met begin to play in my mind. It was a Friday and I had just gotten the contract back via fax confirming that I was the new publicist for one of the hottest models out, Iyauna. I had called her to let her know that I had gotten the contract and to set up our first meeting. 

We decided to meet at her favorite restaurant, Five and Ten. I always make it a practice to arrive for a meeting early so I can control where we sit, speak with the waiter and start building that rapport, peruse the menu so that I can just ramble off my meal in front of the client and that day was no different. It makes it look like I’m there all the time with other clients. Somehow this makes me feel like I have the upper hand and I am in control of the atmosphere by doing these simple little things.

Since I got there about an hour early, I had been seated and relaxed and had just decided on the local vegetable plate with a glass of water when I saw Iyauna approaching with some light skinned mouthwatering gentlemen. As the two came close I noticed that he had green eyes that I certainly got lost looking into, a well-trimmed beard and mustache that connected and he had a low hair cut with what seemed like hundreds of perfect waves. I damn near got sea-sick. My heartbeat was hammering in my chest while Maxwell sang Fortunate in the back of my mind and I said a silent prayer to whomever might be listening for him to be her brother, cousin, or photographer. I would accept any relationship as long as he was not her man.

I remember standing up to greet them “
Hello Iyauna, it’s great to see you. You look amazing!”
And she did. She was wearing a dress so beautiful that even the knockoffs had to be expensive. Add to that the fact that she was tall and slim and all model-looking…. I almost wanted to push her on the ground and feed her chicken nuggets.

“
Hello, Chyna,”
she replied smiling and looking for all the world like she was on her own private
catwalk.
“This is my husband Joaquin.
”

I could barely get my words together as my heart feels like it dropped to my feet. I manage a weak
“Hello”
and a quick hand shake as I think to myself ‘I want him, Lord. I asked You for him to be anyone but her man so you make him her husband? See, this is why I don’t go to church.’ As I finish my private conversation with the Lord, I invited them to take their seats.

I spent the rest of the evening trying to forget that Joaquin was there. I hated when he spoke because then I would have to look into his green eyes, watch his sexy lips. Surprisingly, I managed to make it through the meeting without making a complete fool of myself and losing a client by straddling her husband in a public place. I was the very definition of self-control.

I come out of my thoughts as my body begins to feel how cold the bath water has become. I think to myself, ‘If this water was any colder, it would be almost as uncomfortable as my relationship with Joaquin has become.’ I stand up let the bath water out and turn the shower water on warm. I am shivering and wanted to warm up. I begin to let the warm water relax my muscles and my mind and I float back to that first night.

I left the meeting feeling good and trying my hardest to forget Joaquin. But as soon as I pulled up in my drive way, ‘Who Got Da Props’ by Black Moon starts playing on my iPhone which was at that time my text notification. I put the car in park, turned off the ignition and the lights as I tapped the screen to see who was texting me. I looked at the text and saw a number that I didn’t recognize and no name so I knew it was not a contact that I had saved. I tapped the message and it opened up and read:

Chyna this is Joaquin. I just wanted to touch bases and see if we can set up a meeting to discuss some things I have set up for Iyauna so we can work together to advance her career. Hit me up at your earliest convenience.

I smiled and rested my head on the headrest. I was giddy at the thought of another meeting with him and the thought of being alone with him instantly made me horny. “Shit he talking about hitting him up, I’d rather have him hit me off,” I said out loud laughing under my breath.

It slowly started to sink in that the way I was feeling about this married man was wrong. I thought to myself ‘You are taking this too far. First he is married, second he is not interested in you, and third he is married.’ I sighed and promised myself that I was done with this idiotic infatuation threw my phone in my purse and got out the car.

I walked in the house and decided that I was going to text him back. This meeting was to be strictly business.

I drank three or four glasses of wine before texting Joaquin, just to take some of the edge off. I texted him my office address and told him he could come by at 10 o’clock in the morning on the following Monday. He immediately texted back and said he would be there.

Joaquin walked in my office at ten o’clock sharp looking fly as hell. His Tom Ford jeans hung just right. His green eyes seemed even greener today. Even his smile seemed brighter today.

I stood; we shook hands and took our seats on the sofa in my office to begin the meeting.  I remember we discussed his plans for Iyauna and her career but the conversation quickly turned to the two of us. Before I even knew it we were talking about our favorite movies, foods, songs and drinks. We just got so relaxed with each other. The next thing I can recall is us laughing about some little corny joke he made and I patted him on his hand when he leaned in and began to kiss me. I began to kiss him back as fireworks began to explode inside of me. Things escalated so fast: his hands found their way to my breasts and begin playing with my nipples and they became rock hard and were pushing through my white silk camisole, my hands made their way inside his pants and I began to stroke his already firm muscle, feeling the moisture from a drop of pre-cum and rubbing it in to his thick helmet.

My office phone began to ring, bringing a halt to the passionate shenanigans I was taking part in. Reality set in as I jumped up to get the phone. I ended the meeting and knew at that point that I had begun a decent in a direction I really didn’t need to go. He must have been torn and confused as well because he left without a word or any signs of hesitation…

Tears began to stream down my face as I realize how much I love Joaquin. How my body reacts at the very thought of him, how the smell of his cologne gets me all hot and bothered, all the forbidden times we have shared. I lather up my wash cloth, wash myself and get out the shower just as the water begins to turn cold again from having run so long.

I wrap a towel around myself and flop down on my bed on top of my periwinkle comforter. I grab a pillow and lay there in the dark, crying until I fall asleep. Loving him and hating myself because I do.

Chapter 6: Omari

I leave Brazille’s salon with only one agenda in mind, which is to make her mine. She is beautiful, successful, and independent. She is everything I have been looking for. She is naturally beautiful and chooses to jazz up her look with a little makeup but she does not go overboard like most of these women nowadays. They have fake hair, nails, eyelashes, breasts, drawn on eyebrows, tons of makeup and weave galore and some top it all off with a fake ass! It is so refreshing to see a black woman like Brazille look fly with what God gave her. 

I decide to go back to my office and tie up some loose ends. Work doesn’t stop, but thoughts of Brazille’s smile never leave my mind on my drive across town. When I get to my building, I take the elevator up to the eighth floor and head down the long corridor to my suite. I walk in and my receptionist, Chantel, hands me a stack of messages.
“Hey boss. How long are you going to be in the office?”

“Hopefully not long Chantel. I’m really just in to wrap a few things up, and then I’ll be working from home later. Get Trevor on the line for me please,” I respond. “Why, is everything ok?”

“Of course it is. Just wondering if you needed me to order anything in to eat or send out to that place on third that you like for coffee,” she said.

“Oh, no that won’t be necessary Chantel. But thank you. Just get Trevor for me and patch him right through when you do,” I tell her.
She is the best receptionist I’ve ever had, not impressed by the clients and their dreams and with no interest in performing at all. For Chantel, this is just a job and she’s good at it.

I walk into my office, close the door and shut the blinds on the large window that looks out into my waiting area. This is something I do when I don’t want to be disturbed and that also lets Chantel know to call me and to not just walk into my office. I walk behind my mahogany desk, hanging the jacket to my suit on the hanger on the coatrack as I walk by, and sit down in my black leather swivel chair and power on my computer. My desk phone rings and it is Chantel patching Trevor through.
“Trevor! What’s good man? Do you have time to get your client here to audition for me today?”

“What’s up Big O?!” Trevor responds laughing. “You know I’m here for it. Let me give her a call and tell her to get her shit together. Does two o’clock sound okay?”

I pause as I look down at my platinum black faced Movado watch with diamonds at the twelve, three, six and nine hours, mentally planning my afternoon.
“Well, it’s eleven o’clock now how about one o’clock instead of two?” I ask.

“Aiight, cool. We’ll see you then man,” Trevor says ending the call.

I rest the receiver back on its hook and begin to go through my email. Before I even get through the first one my mind drifts back to Brazille. I loved the way her hair was cascading over her shoulder bringing my eyes to her plump breasts. They could not have been anything less than double D in size. They looked like two big plush purple pillows in her jumpsuit. Her eyes were big, bright, and inviting and her lips were full just made me want to suck on them for hours. I’m sure they taste as good as they look. I wonder when I’ll get the chance to find out…

I pull her business card out of my pocket, grab my cell and send her a text:

Hi. This is Omari. I was wondering if you would consider doing brunch with me tomorrow so we can discuss business. You can pick the place. Hit me up and let me know.

I get to work, reading over some contracts, listening to a couple of demos making a few calls before I notice that it’s after twelve noon. I look at my phone and notice that Brazille still hasn’t replied, but it is her opening day so I’m sure she’s still busy. 

I lay my cell on my desk and return to knocking out these emails. Next thing I know Chantel is on the intercom letting me know my one o’clock has arrived.
“Send them in please,” I tell her.

Trevor comes through the door first, wearing his usual baggy two hundred dollar jeans, Timberlands, hoodie and oversized designer t-shirt ensemble, saying,
“What’s up?” as he walks into the office

“Nothing much man, good to see you,”
I say, as
we shake hands. “
And who do we have here
?”

“This is Cheyenne my new artist that we’ve been discussing”
he points to the young lady that entered the room behind him.

“Nice to meet you Cheyenne,” I say, shaking her hand in turn.

She replies, “
Nice to meet you too Mr. Lambert.”

“Nah, none of that call me Omari,” I tell her. “Let’s all have a seat over here.”
I point to the two chairs in front of my desk as I turn and walk towards my seat.

We all sit down and Trevor reaches in his jacket pocket and pulls out a flash drive that has the music files for Cheyenne’s demo on it. I connect it to my computer, noticing that the text notification light on my phone still isn’t blinking, and we take a listen. I sit and listen to her song, nodding my head as I access her appearance.

She is a cute, petite young lady. Her café au lait complexion immediately indicates to me that she is biracial. Her lips were slim but shapely. She has her long dark straight hair pulled back into a ponytail. I see definite commercial potential in her. Her light brown eyes are dancing all over the place, probably to try to deal with the nerves she is feeling while waiting for my response. She doesn’t appear to have on a lot of makeup, just some natural looking lipstick and eyeliner. I stop the music when I finish my visual audit.

“I think we could have a hit, Trevor and Cheyenne. I would like to sign you. However, you will have to agree to use my stylists for makeup, hair, nails and wardrobe. But all that will be outlined in the contract. What do you think,” I ask, already knowing what her response will be.

“Oh my GOD!! Thank you so much Mr. Lambert. I mean Omari. I have worked so hard for this moment, thank you! I don’t have a problem with using your stylist team,”
she says as she hi fives Trevor.

“Yo, I told you she was hot!” Trevor says hugging Cheyenne and lifting her off of her feet, smiling.

I turn and look at Trevor.
“I will get the contract prepared for you two to review by Monday. Make sure that Chantel has both of your emails on file on your way out.”
I stand to walk them to the door.

“Will do, Omari,”
Trevor says as we shake hands again.

“You are extremely talented Cheyenne. I look forward to working with you.”

“Thank you for the compliment, I’m looking forward to it as well”
she says as she walks out behind Trevor and turns around to wave as they walk out the door.

I start setting up studio time, reach out to Legal to have the contract drafted and start to rethink having Chantel order lunch when I check my watch and discover it is two forty-five. I go back to my desk, pick my phone up and check my notifications again. Still nothing from Brazille… I feel a little disappointed but understand that she is probably still busy and likely trying to play hard to get. ‘That’s cute or whatever,’ I say to myself, a half smile on my lips. I decided to text Chyna to see if Brazille mentioned anything about me to her.

Chyna what is up with your friend, Brazille?
It seems like she hits me back immediately.

What do you mean? Did you text her?

Actually I did and she hasn’t responded yet. Did she seem interested?

OMG!! Is u a bitch man?? Look at you acting like a high schooler, lmao! This is her grand opening so she is a little busy and new dick may have to take a back seat for right now. Lol! I am sure when she gets a chance you will hear from her. Take a chill pill baby boy!

So now you gonna play a brotha? I can’t lie tho I am feeling her.

Hold your horses and you should be good.

Cool.

Of course, like a little bitch, I check my texts again and she still hasn’t responded.

I call Chantel in to go over my appointments for the next two days. I want to remove everything off my calendar for the rest of today and all of tomorrow. I tell her to reschedule everything for next week starting with the most important meetings being moved to Monday. “If there are any emergencies that you can’t handle Chantel, shoot me an email to my personal email address and I will guide you through it,” I tell her.

Chantel raises a well-shaped eyebrow in concern “Is something wrong, Boss? You NEVER move this much work around,” she asks.

“Everything is good. I just need a few hours to myself. And I’m confident that you and the rest of the staff can handle things for a little while without me,” I assure her. We finish clearing the schedule and I head for the elevator, purposefully not checking my phone, on the way to my truck.

I go in the house and head straight for the gym. Working out always seems to help me think things through and right now that is what I really need. I couldn’t understand how and why Brazille had captivated my mind the way she has.

I have known Chyna for about a year. She is cool people. I think to myself as I begin to stretch. We often refer clients to each other, with her being a publicist and me being the C.E.O. of a record label we run into a lot of the same circles, and it has worked out to be extremely lucrative for both sides. So when she suggested that I team up with her girl Brazille to help with makeup and nails I was truly interested.

In the past I had let artists have their own makeup, nail, wardrobe and hair stylist but it wasn’t working out. Most of the time the stylist ended up being an unqualified family member or friend and I couldn’t have their sub-par work affecting my business. And the last thing artists these days need is any more leeches and sycophants hanging around in their entourage. This way my business would be well represented from talent to image and I would be able to guarantee that the looks were on point.

The work that I had seen from Brazille on Instagram is definitely what I am looking for. Her nail art was amazing and her ability to transform eyebrows and eyelashes in a New York minute was unbelievable. She would definitely be a huge asset to my business. I move to the treadmill and begin my five mile run. The one thing I hadn’t counted on was that Brazille would be that beautiful. I certainly hadn’t counted on her taking over my thoughts. It’s really an odd feeling for me because in this industry I see beautiful women all the time and I have fucked quite a few, but Brazille is different. She’s not a wanna-be star or a faded talent trying to stay in the game. She’s from a whole different world then mine and seems to be the master of her own. I like that.

I increased the speed on my tread mill trying to out run the memory of how she looked sitting at her nail station. I finish my run and move to the weight bench for three sets of bench presses and curls. I finish my work out with two hundred push-ups and head up to the second floor to take a shower. I get out the shower and throw on a pair of basketball shorts. I grab my cell and head to the kitchen. I see I have a few texts on my way down the stairs so I check to see who they are from. One is from my sister, Treasure, and the other from my boy, Tee. I open Tee’s text.

Yo what’s up? U down for 2 nite?

Nah I am gonna chill tonight.

Fam you killin a nigga

Later son

I lay my phone on the counter and open the refrigerator to see whats in there to cook. After shuffling the contents of the fridge around for 10 minutes, I decide against the cooking thing, closed the fridge and grabbed the pizza shop menu off the stainless steel door of my fridge. I grab the house phone and call to place my order.

“2 Guys Pizza Pies how may I help you?” answers the voice on the other end. It sounds like Tony, one of the owners.

“I would like to order an extra-large fully loaded pie with a two liter of Coke,”
I reply
.

“Phone number sir?”
he asks
.

“404-555-8811,”
I tell him.

“Oh, Mr. Lambert, how are you? This is Tony”
he says, confirming my original guess.

“Great Tony, thank you.”

“Your pie will be there by eight thirty and your total is twenty five dollars and eighty cents, Sir. Would you like to put it on your credit card?”

“No, Tony. I will be paying cash.”

“Ok Mr. Lambert. Your pie is on its way,” Tony says, ending the call.

I hang the phone up and go sit on the couch. I grab the remote and press the power button to turn on my sixty inch flat screen TV that is mounted on the wall over my fieldstone fire place. I begin channel surfing and finally settle on
Laugh at My Pain
, Kevin Hart’s comedy special.

The doorbell rings so I get my wallet off the counter and take out a fifty dollar bill. I open the door and pay the deliver guy. I tell him to keep the change and close the door as he is saying
“Thank you.”

I devour the pizza and begin channel surfing again. I pick up my phone and check the notifications there’s nothing new so I hit my sister back.

What’s up little sis?

Your nephew wanted to know if he could interview you for his school newspaper?

Most definitely, I would be honored. When?