joked.
“All the articles got wiped out. I stayed to help recreate the pages from our backup documents.”
“Did you eat?” Rena questioned.
“Yes, Mom. We ordered in. Chinese, on the company of course.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be able to make it to Nina’s album release party tomorrow night?”
“I told you I would.”
“Just checking, you being such an important woman and all.”
“Yeah…yeah. Rub it in, Ms. Record Exec. Why don’t we get to bed? I’m done for the night.”
* * *
It started with Rena’s phone call. I was flipping through the stations and paused on Oprah when the telephone rang.
“Hello?”
“You’re home early,” came Rena’s voice over the line.
“It’s Friday.”
“And?”
“The director lets the division go home at four p.m.,” I explained.
“I forgot. I need a favor.”
“What’s up?” I asked, sitting up.
“Can you go to Nina’s party with Traxx?”
I almost dropped the phone as an image of the super handsome soul singer danced before my eyes. “What?” My voice cracked.
“Damon and I need to stay late. We have to finish up a project before Monday and I’m absolutely not coming into the office this weekend. Traxx is new to New York and doesn’t have any real solid connections up here yet.”
“Why me? The man has to beat women off with a stick.” I listened to her laughter as it blended with another’s. Damon, I assumed.
“Leave it to you to ask why. The truth is that you’re the only woman I know that won’t look at the man with either stars, dollar signs, a wedding ring, or a check from a tabloid magazine in her eyes.”
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked, trying to remember if I’d ever heard any gossip about the R&B singer.
“He’s a good guy. Wouldn’t be calling you if he wasn’t. I was supposed to go with him but I won’t be able to get out of here until eleven p.m. at the earliest.”
“Oh.” I chewed my lip. I tried to keep as far away from the entertainment business as possible. Being in the public eye was not one of my career goals.
“Aren’t you the one who said ‘Live life to the fullest?’ ”
Leave it to Rena to remember a drunken New Year’s Eve resolution.
“True,” I reluctantly admitted.
“And I have it on good authority that a certain someone from the UPenn, an ex-Mrs. Lance Phillips, will be making an appearance.”
She knew me too well. “What time do I need to be there?”
“Traxx’ll be driving back from a radio appearance in Philly. He’ll pick you up at about nine-thirty p.m.”
“Wait. How’s he going to pick me up if he doesn’t know the city?” I asked suspiciously.
“Please. My boy travels in style, plus he’s got a navigation system.”
“Good grief.” The lifestyles of the rich and famous.
“Don’t thank me,” she sighed. “Anything for family. Now I gotta jet. See ya tonight.”
I pressed the off button on the phone and sat back on the sofa. Simba took it as an invitation and jumped up into my lap. The semi-overweight cat stared up at me with narrowed eyes. I ran my hands over his fur and patted his back as he meowed before settling down.
“A date. I’ve got a date with the Best New Male Artist of the Year,” I murmured out loud.
The sentence looped over and over in my mind like a refrain. Then I remembered Sherrie. The image conjured by her name wiped away the giddy excitement. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to dredge up the nickname everyone had given Lance’s ex-wife. What was it? The Queen of Sheba . And with the answer, I was thrust into the memory of my sophomore year in college.
* * *
“You came. Come on in.” Sherrie’s smile was wide.
Any momentary feeling of ease I had vanished. I wanted to wring Lance’s neck for blackmailing me into coming over to her apartment. She was smiling at me. She wanted something. The woman was pretty. Her unblemished brown sugar complexion, shoulder-length black hair, and almond eyes
“All the articles got wiped out. I stayed to help recreate the pages from our backup documents.”
“Did you eat?” Rena questioned.
“Yes, Mom. We ordered in. Chinese, on the company of course.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be able to make it to Nina’s album release party tomorrow night?”
“I told you I would.”
“Just checking, you being such an important woman and all.”
“Yeah…yeah. Rub it in, Ms. Record Exec. Why don’t we get to bed? I’m done for the night.”
* * *
It started with Rena’s phone call. I was flipping through the stations and paused on Oprah when the telephone rang.
“Hello?”
“You’re home early,” came Rena’s voice over the line.
“It’s Friday.”
“And?”
“The director lets the division go home at four p.m.,” I explained.
“I forgot. I need a favor.”
“What’s up?” I asked, sitting up.
“Can you go to Nina’s party with Traxx?”
I almost dropped the phone as an image of the super handsome soul singer danced before my eyes. “What?” My voice cracked.
“Damon and I need to stay late. We have to finish up a project before Monday and I’m absolutely not coming into the office this weekend. Traxx is new to New York and doesn’t have any real solid connections up here yet.”
“Why me? The man has to beat women off with a stick.” I listened to her laughter as it blended with another’s. Damon, I assumed.
“Leave it to you to ask why. The truth is that you’re the only woman I know that won’t look at the man with either stars, dollar signs, a wedding ring, or a check from a tabloid magazine in her eyes.”
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked, trying to remember if I’d ever heard any gossip about the R&B singer.
“He’s a good guy. Wouldn’t be calling you if he wasn’t. I was supposed to go with him but I won’t be able to get out of here until eleven p.m. at the earliest.”
“Oh.” I chewed my lip. I tried to keep as far away from the entertainment business as possible. Being in the public eye was not one of my career goals.
“Aren’t you the one who said ‘Live life to the fullest?’ ”
Leave it to Rena to remember a drunken New Year’s Eve resolution.
“True,” I reluctantly admitted.
“And I have it on good authority that a certain someone from the UPenn, an ex-Mrs. Lance Phillips, will be making an appearance.”
She knew me too well. “What time do I need to be there?”
“Traxx’ll be driving back from a radio appearance in Philly. He’ll pick you up at about nine-thirty p.m.”
“Wait. How’s he going to pick me up if he doesn’t know the city?” I asked suspiciously.
“Please. My boy travels in style, plus he’s got a navigation system.”
“Good grief.” The lifestyles of the rich and famous.
“Don’t thank me,” she sighed. “Anything for family. Now I gotta jet. See ya tonight.”
I pressed the off button on the phone and sat back on the sofa. Simba took it as an invitation and jumped up into my lap. The semi-overweight cat stared up at me with narrowed eyes. I ran my hands over his fur and patted his back as he meowed before settling down.
“A date. I’ve got a date with the Best New Male Artist of the Year,” I murmured out loud.
The sentence looped over and over in my mind like a refrain. Then I remembered Sherrie. The image conjured by her name wiped away the giddy excitement. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to dredge up the nickname everyone had given Lance’s ex-wife. What was it? The Queen of Sheba . And with the answer, I was thrust into the memory of my sophomore year in college.
* * *
“You came. Come on in.” Sherrie’s smile was wide.
Any momentary feeling of ease I had vanished. I wanted to wring Lance’s neck for blackmailing me into coming over to her apartment. She was smiling at me. She wanted something. The woman was pretty. Her unblemished brown sugar complexion, shoulder-length black hair, and almond eyes
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