Pain Lived, Love Found 2 (7 page)

“Three minutes,” Roman repeated after me, in a warning tone as I disappeared into the crowd. I had no doubt that he would come looking for me if I took a second too long.

It wasn’t hard to find the ladies’ room. I just followed the direction that I saw two other women walking. I figured they were headed there. Once I walked inside, I was amazed at how big it was. There were four private stalls that could easily be mistaken for built-in closets as the doors were made of heavy wood and reached from the floor to the ceiling for complete privacy. Through another doorway and to the right was a separate powder room that was decorated in peach, gold, and cream.  It was a beautiful room with a feminine touch. There were two cream-colored chaise lounges and an antique Victorian sofa sitting in front of a huge picture window with long, flowy peach drapes. There was a long counter with a huge mirror with wonderful lighting for applying makeup or combing your hair with several peach-colored plush chairs to sit on. Lining the counter were beautiful flower arrangements and decorative baskets full of expensive hand creams, body lotions, and designer perfumes for you to help yourself to. There were two older women and one young lady sitting at the counter freshening up their makeup.

“Did you see that handsome Roman Mancini walk in here with that black woman? What on earth was he thinking bringing someone like that here?” said one of the older women.

I froze in my footsteps. I was about to round the corner to join them at the mirror before I heard them speaking of me as if I were a second-class citizen, and suddenly I was Abeline from the movie The Help.

“I know. It’s like, so disappointing to see him with her. And did you see what she wore? Did she not get the memo on how to dress for tonight?” the younger woman added in a high-pitched, nasal voice that was instantly irritating.

“You have to admit, her gown is beautiful and compliments her shape perfectly. I wish I had her curves,” chimed in the other older woman in the group. “I don’t care what color she is, she’s beautiful and they look good together. Frankly I’m disappointed that you even think, let alone speak that way of African-Americans in this day and age, Pearl. And you wonder why people say you and your husband are so out of touch?” The older woman continued, her voice full of disdain as she got up to leave. I quickly ran inside of one of the stalls before she could see me. Once she was gone, I decided to walk inside of the powder room and I purposely sat next to this Pearl woman.

“Good evening, ladies,” I cheerfully greeted.

“Good evening,” the ladies mumbled in return. They suddenly became uncomfortable and nervous as they fumbled with their purses.

I took out my lip gloss and began to slowly apply it to my lips. I noticed the slight swell of my lips and blushed. Memories of the hot, intense kiss I shared with Roman began to replay in my mind. The man had my body on high alert.  But never mind the kiss, these snotty bitches needed to be checked and swiftly. When I finished applying my lip gloss I looked at the women in the mirror who were nervously watching me as if they were expecting me to do something violent. Trust me, I would have thoroughly enjoyed slamming both of their faces into the counter until they had no teeth left. But tonight I’d have to settle for letting my words do the ass kicking.

“Oh good, I have both of your attention. It’s a shame that it bothers you that my kind could possibly be at such a prestigious event, but guess what? I’m here, so deal with it! And for the bitch that was wondering what on earth Roman Mancini was thinking bringing some black woman to this ball, let me tell you: he brought me because he wanted someone who was not only beautiful, smart, successful, and witty on his arm, he also wanted someone with more class in her pinky toe than either of you jealous hags have put together. If he wanted to bring an old, wrinkled prune with an equally wrinkled, dried-up vagina, then Pearl, he would have brought you, hands down.”

Pearl gasped and clutched her chest as if I had snatched her purse from her. I never wanted to laugh so bad in my life, but I was in the middle of my tell-these-bitches-off speech, so I had to keep a straight face.

“And if Mr. Mancini wanted a brainless dimwit with a voice that makes you want to stab your eardrums with an ice pick, and who has the body of an eleven-year-old boy, then trust me, Blondie, he would have chosen you.”

The younger blonde woman’s mouth dropped open as she looked at Pearl in disbelief and horror. I’d give anything to have a camera right now to capture the stupid looks on their faces, I thought to myself. 

“Now…” I started, going in for the finale. “If you two racist, jealous bitches, would excuse me, my man is out there waiting on me so he can put his hands, lips, tongue, and whatever else he wants all over this.”

I rubbed my hand over my round ass and ample hips giving it a firm slap before I strutted out of the bathroom with my head held high like I was the Queen of Sheba. Trevor would have been so proud!

Roman was waiting for me at the grand piano as promised, and when he spotted me he gave me a crooked, sexy smile.

“That was more like five minutes. What took you so long?”

He pulled me to him and wrapped one of his strong arms around my waist.

“Oh, nothing, just making some new friends,” I said. I saw Pearl and Blondie join the party, their faces still shell shocked from being told off for talking shit about me.

Roman was still looking at me and saw the frown that settled on my face as I stared at the women.

He gently turned me around to face him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I could hear the concern in his voice.

“I’m fine,” I responded with a small smile.

Dinner was ready to be served and everyone was being ushered into the main dining hall. Everything in this mansion was huge, including this dining hall. There was a sea of round tables with numbers at each one so everyone knew where they sat. The decorations that adorned the room and each table were just as elegant and beautiful as the decorations throughout the mansion. Roman and I were assigned to table six. Each table sat six people, and Roman pulled out my chair for me and seated me before sitting down himself.

The other couples at the table were a mix of older, middle-aged and young, but the conversation for the men remained on business.

Frank and Frances Fitzpatrick sat to my left. They were in their early-to-mid fifties and it was obvious that they took very good care of themselves. Frances was clearly used to these types of functions as she rolled her eyes and scooted closer to me.

“Please save me from utter boredom, Sarah. I’ve been to so many of these that I could take a two-hour nap and still not miss a thing.”

I giggled and replied, “The only fun we could have is to people watch and critique other people’s dresses and hair, but isn’t that what women do on a daily basis anyway?”

Frances laughed and leaned in close to me as she whispered, “I knew I’d like you. You’re not like all these other stuffy, pretentious bitches around here.  Out of all the people here, only a handful are genuinely nice people. Mr. and Mrs. Smith, for an example, are good people. You wouldn’t think they would be coming from so much money. They are some of the most down-to-earth people you could ever meet.”

“The Smiths are a very sweet couple, and I got a taste of what you’re talking about in the ladies room earlier from a couple of stuck-up, racist bitches.  Trust me, if we were any place else, there would have been hair flying and faces smashed in.” I felt my anger rising again as I thought back on the disrespect I encountered.

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry to hear that. Where are they? Let’s go get them,” Frances said as she began looking around the room as if she could spot the culprits herself.

My eyes got big and I couldn’t suppress my laughter. I fell back in my chair as the laughter bubbled forth out of my chest. It made everyone at the table look at me, including Roman. Soon Frances joined me and we were both laughing uncontrollably. We both tried hard not to be loud and obnoxious, but I kept picturing this skinny, yet fit, fifty-something-year-old woman sitting next to me ready to set it off in her ball gown!

“Care to let the rest of us in on the joke?” Roman asked as he looked at me smiling.

“Oh, it’s nothing, just some good ole’ girl talk,” I responded as I winked at Frances.

Roman smiled at me for another moment before he rejoined his conversation with another guest at our table, then I felt his hand gently rub the small of my back.  My body shivered at his touch, but I quickly relaxed. I was becoming used to his touch as the night went on.

Dinner was delightful and dessert, my favorite part, was delicious. I was so stuffed I couldn’t eat another bite. I noticed during cocktail hour and dinner that Roman didn’t partake in any alcohol. I wonder if it’s because Sandy told him that I didn’t drink and he was trying to be considerate. I hoped Sandy didn’t tell him too much about me.

We were soon ushered from the dining room and back to the ballroom where a silent auction was being held. Shortly after the auction wrapped up, another live band began to play up- tempo music, and the dance floor was opened up for people to dance. They also had an excellent jazz singer named Nicole Blue on vocals. I was bobbing my head and enjoying the music while Roman was having an in-depth conversation with a banker.

“Sarah, you and Frank should go dance. He loves to dance but I don’t,” Frances suggested with a big smile on her face. Frank’s eyes lit up in anticipation of my answer. I could tell he was itching to get out on the dance floor as well, but I was more concerned with how Roman would react. Frank was about six feet tall, medium build with salt-and-pepper hair. He wasn’t handsome, but he wasn’t ugly either. He was an okay-looking man to me. He wore glasses which made him look more like a college professor than a rich businessman, and that’s exactly why you should never judge a book by its cover.

“I would but…”

“Oh, come on!” Frank exclaimed, cutting me off. “It’ll be fun. Besides, Roman is busy talking and it looks pretty important. I’m completely harmless; all I want to do is dance.” Frank beamed as he pulled me out of my chair and towards the dance floor. Roman looked up with a frown on his face as he saw me being pulled away by Frank. All I could do was shrug my shoulders with my eyes wide in surprise.

Surprisingly, Frank was a really good dancer. He stayed on beat and had some nice moves. We were having a good time freestyling and soon all eyes were on us. I kept my dancing relatively tame, doing what my sisters and I called the “pretty girl dance.” It was basically where you stayed in place and moved your feet from side to side while giving a little shoulder and hip action so you wouldn’t sweat. Sweating on the dance floor, regardless of what you have on, simply isn’t cute, and considering the kind of event I was at, it was hardly the time or place to dance up a sweat or drop it like it’s hot.

Soon the song ended. “Thank you for dancing with me, Sarah,” Frank stated, before escorting me off of the dance floor where our partners awaited us.

“Thank you for dancing with my husband. The man loves to dance and I have two left feet. Slow dancing I can handle, but what you two just did is out of the question for me!” Frances laughed.

“Roman, I dragged Sarah out on the dance floor while you were talking to Bill over there. I hope you don’t mind. It’s not often I get to dance since Frances flat out refuses to dance to any fast songs,” Frank said apologetically to Roman, who now managed a small smile.

“No worries, Frank. I’m glad you two had a good time,” Roman replied, good-naturedly.

I was so warm from all the dancing we did, that I was fanning myself.

“Would you like to cool off outside for a moment?” Roman asked in my ear.

“Yes, please,” I quickly answered.

“Please excuse us; we’re going to step outside for a moment,” Roman announced as he guided me with his hand on the small of my back. We weaved our way through the crowd until we were in the hallway leading to the foyer. Instead of going out of the front door, Roman led us up the grand staircase that led to the second and third floors. Once we were on the second floor, he led me to a balcony entrance and opened the glass door for me. When I stepped onto the balcony there was a wonderful cool breeze that hit my face. We had a beautiful view of the Smith’s massive backyard and land that stretched as far as the eye could see. Not far off was a lighted pool, several flower gardens, a pool house, and a guest house. My hair was blowing softly in the wind as my heated body began to slowly cool down. I leaned on the banister and closed my eyes as I enjoyed the welcome breeze.

“So...I see you like to dance,” Roman said, from behind me. I couldn’t read his tone, but I knew to tread lightly. I wasn’t in the mood for another fight with him. We were finally having a good time together.

“Yes, I do like to dance, and Frank is a really good dancer. I was pleasantly surprised.”

“You’re a great dancer as well. All eyes were on you.”

This time I turned around to look at him. I had to get a read on his mood. He was leaning against a pillar with his arms folded. He lazily gazed at me as if he were intrigued by what he saw.

“Is that a good or bad thing?” I asked with an eyebrow raised.

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “I suppose it’s good if you enjoyed yourself.”

“With a smile, I replied, “I did enjoy myself,” Where is he going with this? I wondered.