Show and Tell Read online

  I make my smile more confident as I step inside and join the line of guests greeted by the Ingrams. For a hot second I have an image of the guards pulling me out there because Mrs. Ingram forgot that she invited me. She would not. She could not. She better not.

  She is looking fabulous in a strapless dress of the deepest shade of red that I have ever seen. Everything about her is perfectly in place. She is the queen of the ball and she knows it.

  “Hello, Mr. Ingram. Mrs. Ingram.” I give them that winning Cristal smile as I reach out to them with both my hands.

  “Hello, Danielle.” Mr. Ingram pats my hand warmly before Mrs. Ingram reaches over to slide my hands into her grasp. Even her hands are cool.

  “Welcome, Danielle,” she says to me warmly before nudging me forward into the ballroom. I did not miss the way her eyes took in everything from my auburn weave flat ironed to perfection (of course) to my dress and jewelry. Thank God all of my men were not Indian-givers like Sahad. She did not make a crude comment so I assume I passed her assessment.

  My eyes widen as I look at the partygoers. I cannot lie that I am intrigued. I see the crème de la crème of African-American high society. The already impressive ballroom is overflowing with flowers and artfully decorated tables around the large dance floor. Everything about this night says that no expense was spared. When the Ingrams throw a party, they throw a damn party. The crowd is a lot older and more sedate than I prefer. I am used to rubbing elbows with athletes and hip-hop celebrities—that hip twenty to thirty-something crowd. This is definitely a little more geriatric but it is also filled with people who are connected. Politicians. High-powered executives. Socialites. The Black elite.

  There are more designer gowns and jewels in this place than I can ever hope to be near again. It is a long way from the foster kid growing up in Newark. I am going to enjoy myself to the fullest.

  Chapter Ten

  Alizé

  “Braun, Weber, Monica Winters speaking.”

  “Hey, Ze, this is Cristal.”

  “Hold on.” I stand up and quickly move around my desk to use my foot to close the door to my office. As soon as I settle back down into my chair, I press the phone back to my ear. “Whaddup, girl?” I ask.

  “Did Mo call you?”

  “No. Why? What’s up?”

  “Bones filed a petition to have paternity tests done on Tiffany.”

  “What?” I lean forward with my elbows on the desk.

  “She just got the papers at work.”

  I pick up my pen and twirl it between my fingers. “Maybe it’s a good thing. We all know he’s the daddy. Now she can get some support from his Tupac wanna-be ass.”

  “Are we sure?” Cristal asks.

  I frown. “Are we sure of what, Cris?”

  “Are we sure Bones is the father?”

  “Cris, don’t even trip.”

  “I love Moët to death but she lied about Bones raping her. She did not tell us she was pregnant. Hell, we never knew she was screwing her preacher when we paid for her abortion.” Cristal paused and I just know she is looking down at her nails. “Mo can keep secrets when she wants to. That is all I am saying.”

  “That was before. She’s different now. Way more upfront.”

  Cristal remained quiet for a minute before she spoke. “Well, this blood test will tell it.”

  “The fact that he’s getting the blood test might mean he wants to be involved. He hates Mo—”

  “Understandably,” Cristal interjected.

  I do an eye roll. “Anyway, how are they gone handle getting along after everything that went down? Girl, that’s some crazy shit.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  I bite my bottom lip and turn troubled eyes to the open laptop on my desk. “Well, I got some drama of my own.”

  “Cameron?”

  “Please, he’s so busy with his head up his fiancée’s ass that he acts like I’m not alive. Hell, she be here more than I do.”

  Cristal’s laughter fills the line. “So what’s the drama?”

  “My dad and his girlfriend Andrea are getting married.”

  “Ooh.”

  “And I have to tell my mama.”

  “Eew.”

  “This shit with my mama not getting over my daddy help put my ass in therapy.” I drop my head in my hand.

  “Yes, and I thank God for Dr. Locke getting you over that thug passion mess.”

  I cock a brow. “Focus, Cristal.”

  The other phone line rings.

  “Hold on, Cris.” I put her on hold and hit line two. “Braun, Weber. Monica Winters speaking.”

  “Hi down there, Monica. Mr. Steele’s getting the team together for the ACTech acquisition. You want to sit in?”

  “You know I do,” I tell Delaney, already reaching behind me for the tan jacket of my suit.

  She hangs up and I quickly pick up the other line. “Hey, Cris, I gotta go. Oh, and stay from under restaurant tables with your nasty self,” I tease her as I rise from my seat.

  “Who told you?”

  “Mo. And don’t trip ’cause you were gonna tell me yourself anyway.”

  “Sure was.”

  “Hey, did you swallow it? Gargle it?” I make a gargling noise in my throat before I drop the phone onto its cradle with a laugh.

  As soon as I walk out my office my eyes lock on Cameron walking down the hall towards the conference room. I swallow over a lump in my throat as I take him in. All of him. I was an ass to think that this tall, handsome brotha with all the confidence and strength a man would ever need was not the man for me. He presented his heart to me on a platter and I threw it away. I could just pimp slap my damn self.

  “Hi, Cameron,” I call out as he walks right by me with his head down reading a file he carried.

  He pauses and turns. He looks up and for a second his face lights up at seeing me but then the look fades away and he nods shortly. “Monica,” he says just as shortly before he turns and continues on his way.

  My plan to win him back before the big wedding day isn’t scoring any runs. I hardly see him during the day and when we are within feet of each other there’s always this distant and polite thing, as if we weren’t friends last year. As if he didn’t tell me he loved me.

  “Cameron,” I call out to him.

  He turns again.

  “Could I speak to you for a quick sec?”

  He frowns.

  I give him a smile. “Please.”

  He looks hesitant but he walks back down the hall towards me. Once I get him in my office, I am going to lock the door and jump his ass like white on rice. I done had enough of this ignoring me shit.

  “Thanks . . . for . . .” The rest of my words trail off as his eyes shift from my face to some spot behind me. I turn to see what has taken his attention off me and all my fabulousness (even in my suit and heels I rip it, okay). My mouth drops open at the sight of Serena Lemons—Cameron’s fiancée. Everything about her is the epitome of the corporate wife. She’s tall, slender—but curvaceous, and beautiful, with jet black hair parted down the middle and flowing down her back. Somehow I know it’s all real. This rich bitch can give Cristal a run for her money as the real deal socialite. She is wearing a mink, rocking the Fendi shades, Louis bag in place, looking like a black Barbie.

  I hate her.

  Cameron walks right past me and immediately pulls his future bride to him for a kiss.

  He is happy to see her.

  He is looking down at her as if he is deeply in love with her.

  I am suddenly the last thing on his damn mind.

  I hate that bitch even more.

  I park my mom’s old Camry (she upgraded to the 2008 model) in the driveway. I’m so happy to be home. This shit with Cameron is really messing with me. Standing there watching him kiss his fiancée hurt me like crazy. I know I told him that I didn’t care . . . but I do. I know that I shouldn’t give a shit . . . but I do. I know I shouldn’t cry . . . but I want to. Damn.
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  I wish like hell that I could just drive to Livingston and talk this shit out with my girls but I had some other business to take care of. As soon as I walk through the side entrance into the kitchen, I see my mother stirring in a pot. She’s already undressed from work and in one of her beloved caftans. She turns and smiles at me like I am the best thing since sliced damn bread. I love Elaine Winters to death. How in the hell am I going to tell her that my dad (the man she still loves) is marrying another woman?

  “How was your day?” she asks.

  “I went to my internship today,” I remind her as I fling my overcoat onto the back of the chair at the wooden table.

  “How is Mr. Steele?”

  I move over to stand by her at the stove and my stomach grumbles at the sight of her lima beans and neck bones. “Still good. Still getting married.”

  She looks up at me and there is a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Seems like there’s a lot of weddings and such going on.”

  “You know?” I ask her softly.

  She nods and throws her arm around my waist to comfort me. That’s ironic as hell. “I’m fine and I am happy for your father so don’t you worry about me.”

  Playfully she swats my bottom and I hope like hell that she is telling me the truth.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dom

  Igot fuckin’ troubles.

  My job finally gives me a fuckin’ raise and then has the nerve to up Kimani’s daycare fees talkin’ ’bout the fees is based on my income. Ain’t that ’bout a no-good bitch? I ain’t gone front. My share of the rent, my car note and insurance, plus daycare is kickin’ my ass. Kimani needs clothes and shit. I need clothes. Shit, I’m already sellin’ half my food stamps to help with my bills. I ain’t never had to struggle like this and I grew up in the fuckin’ projects.

  For the last couple of weeks my ass been thinkin’ ’bout a new job but hell more income mean more daycare fees. I’m ’bout sick of the rock and the fuckin’ hard place. Can a bitch get a break? Or do a bitch need to give herself the damn break?

  I parallel park in between a bright yellow Tahoe and a Sebring. I didn’t have no business here but here I am. I look out the passenger window at the buildin’ tryin’ to get the nerve to get out my car.

  My cell phone rings and I pick it up from the passenger seat. Corey’s smilin’ face fills the screen. I don’t want to feel all soft and shit about him calling me. Our shit ain’t supposed to be this way.

  “Hey.”

  “Whassup, Sensual Chocolate?”

  I smile at his nickname for me. This short, big-dick motherfucker always makes me smile and right now I can use it. “Nothin’. Whaddup with you?” I ask as I crank up the car and turn on the heat. Jersey in the winter is cold as hell.

  “You in your car?” he asks. “You bringing my pussy over here to me?”

  My eyes dart to the left as two hooded men walk past my car. My ass is tense as hell ’til they out of my eye range. Fuck that. I ain’t tryin’ to get carjacked or some shit. “Your pussy?” I ask, with my eyes still on the rearview mirror.

  “Damn right,” he answers with authority.

  “Nigga, you trippin’. You ain’t my man.”

  “But I wanna be your man.”

  Uh-oh. Oh no. Here we go again.

  “Let me call you right back,” I say suddenly, wantin’ to change the subject as I grab my purse and get out my car. I shiver. It’s even colder at night and right now the winter season is bitin’ like a bitch.

  “Before you hang up—’cause I know your ass ain’t gone call me back—I want you to let me take you out tomorrow night.”

  “That’s Valentine’s,” I protest.

  “And?”

  Holidays. Dates. Phone calls. Relationship. What part of fuck buddies don’t his ass get?

  “I’m walkin’ in the store. I’ll call you back,” I lie as I push the remote to lock the car. Ba-boop.

  “If you don’t call me back I’ma put your ass on dick knock off,” he says in a joking voice.

  I don’t even take his ass seriously. “Bye, Corey.”

  I close the phone and drop it into my bag as I step up onto the curb. The wind whips around me. The street is dark except for the flashing neon sign. Club XXXCite. I look at my reflection in the dark glass. I feel alone. So fucked up. Like I’m backtrackin’ or some shit. But I feel like I ain’t got no choice either.

  Then why is it so hard for my ass to go in?

  I light a cigarette and smoke that whole motherfucker plus another one. My hands and ears are cold. My leather jacket ain’t doing shit to block the cold. My feet are freezin’ standin’ in the pissy snow. As men walk inside the club, the loud music and flashing lights come out the door. It’s fuckin’ money to be made up in that bitch but so much more to be lost.

  I drop the lit cigarette and crush it into the grayish snow with the tip of my boot before I walk inside the club. It’s dark as hell and it takes a minute for my eyes to get used to it. The smell of liquor, weed, and body is familiar as hell to me.

  “Whaddup, Juicy!”

  I smile at the tall and muscular bodyguard dressed in all black. “Whaddup, Dogg.”

  He wraps one beefy arm around me and pulls me close as hell for a hug. When he slaps my ass I feel like grabbin’ his nuts in my hand and pulling down ’til he screams like a bitch. “Where’s Vic?” I ask instead as I follow Dogg to the circular bar in the center of the club.

  “He opened a new spot on Sixteenth Avenue so I’m kinda runnin’ this one while he gets that one all straightened out and shit.”

  Dogg’s breath smells like somebody’s ass and I wonder which one of these dancers he done ate the fuck out. He use to treat the girls like they were his personal pussy playland and he probably still do. “Well I want to make some money,” I tell him as I squint my eyes and peep the shit goin’ on in this motherfucker.

  Dancers in nothing but thongs and g-strings with titties hanging as they lap dance for the money. Two dykes are butt naked on the stage ’bout to let everyone in on the shit they supposed to do behind closed doors. In the corner dollar bills are flying up in the air from a crowd of hot boys watching some bitch booty clappin’.

  Same-o-same-o I left behind.

  “For tips only?” Dogg asks as he raises a shot to his mouth.

  “Like some new bitch?” I ask, kinda insulted. “You know what Juicy can do.”

  “Well, I ain’t seen Juicy in a minute so I don’t remember,” he throws back at me.

  “Put me on after the clit lickers,” I tell him before walkin’ away from him.

  I don’t break my stride even when I see some random bitch under the table sneakin’ this dude a blow job. I did smile when I thought of Cristal pullin’ that same shit with her man in a restaurant. I ain’t know she had it in her. Bitch swallowed and all.

  Downstairs in the dressin’ room, that same smell of funky feet, corn chips, and ass is still there. Most of the dancers are upstairs but I turn the corner by the beat-up lockers and see asses in the air as two dancers are bent over and snorting something from the counter. The sight of them gettin’ high makes me anxious. It would be so easy to walk over there do a line and forget my money problems for a little while.

  One of the girls stands up and almost stumbles on her five-inch heels. She turns. It’s Candy. I frown a little. When I used to work here she was my weed partner. Me and this bitch could smoke four blunts straight without blinkin’.

  The way she looks right now scares the shit out of me.

  Powder is on the tip of her nose. Her eyes are so glassy and kinda yellow. She done lost weight. Her makeup is smeared and shit. This bitch look like . . . a junkie. Straight the fuck up.

  Candy looks right at me but I know she so high she don’t even recognize me. “Wanna hit?” she asks me. Her words is all slurred together as she stumbles back onto the edge of the counter. She reaches out with her hand and it lands in the residue. She laughs and raises her hand to lick the dope f
rom her fingers.

  I watch her and I feel hungry for it. My body is callin’ for it. I want to lick her fingers, the counter, hell, the floor if some is down there on it. I want to get high so fuckin’ bad.

  I ain’t gone never stop wantin’ it?

  I turn and run the hell out of there, almost trippin’ as I try to get my ass up them fuckin’ stairs. Go. Go. Go. I tell myself as I run through the club knockin’ some big tittie bitch over as I fly out the damn door. As soon as I feel the cold air surround my body I stop and just fuckin’ breathe. Cold air ain’t never tasted so good. Bein’ out of that strip club ain’t never felt so good. It’s like I was drownin’ and finally breakin’ through the water for some fuckin’ air.

  I can’t go back. I can’t. I won’t.

  I walk quick as hell to my car and climb in. My hands are shakin’ as I crank my car. I pull off just as them tears I’m fightin’ rolls from my eyes.

  Everything for me is a fuckin’ battle.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cristal

  “Lowe, Ingram, and Banks.”

  “Hello, Danielle. This is Carolyn.”

  I look up from the message pad I was jotting on. “Hello, Mrs. Ing—”

  “Call me Carolyn, dear.”

  “Uh, hello, Carolyn. If you will hold one second I will get you transferred in to Mr. Ingram.”

  “Actually I was calling to speak to you.”

  I pause. I am not quite sure how to take this lady. The charity event at the Waldorf-Astoria was two weeks ago. She hardly spoke to me there and I have not seen or heard from her since. I left the party confused as hell as to why she even invited me and I am confused as hell now that she wants to speak to me.

  “How can I help you?”

  “There’s a celebrity charity luncheon tomorrow and I thought this would be a great event for you to attend with me.”