“You’re so strong. After that, I could never show my face again,” she said with a laugh.
Shannon leaned forward in her seat like she was about to fight, but I gave her a stern look and she readjusted herself in her chair. She pulled her lips back into a smile, almost like a ventriloquist’s puppet would. Crystal gave everyone a hug, except Shannon. She had started to lean in, but Shannon gave her the look a mother gives to a child when it’s about to do something wrong—a don’t-you-fucking-dare look. Crystal recoiled and nodded instead. Shannon nodded back and took a sip of her coffee. So they were still on tenterhooks with one another. That was to be expected, as getting along with your ex-husband’s new wife took time—lots of time.
Crystal sat down at a nail station across from Karen. Olivia planted herself in front of Shannon. I should have had the contract manicurists make a straight line of these stations today rather than having two lines across from each other. With this group setup, some cattiness was inevitable, especially with the alcohol. I should have made it a dry event too—Manis and Milk, or Manis and Melons. What was I thinking? It was too late for should-haves and would-haves. I was going to get through this, and I was going to ensure these women got through it too.
I grabbed the pitcher of mimosas and made my way around the room, topping off glasses.
“Is anyone else coming?” Shannon asked, glancing at the clock. It was 9:15 a.m. Manis and Mimosas had started fifteen minutes prior, and it was odd that none of my other clients had arrived.
“I’m sure they are,” I said, placing the empty pitcher down.
“They’re not,” Olivia piped in as one of the manicurists filed down her talons.
“What do you mean, they’re not coming?” Shannon’s brow furrowed and her lips pursed together.
“I told all of your other clients that this was a closed event. I figured we needed time for just us today.” Olivia smiled.
“What do you think gives you the right to do that?” Keisha’s words cut through the acetate-scented air.
“I’m a top client here and an angel investor.” Olivia jutted her chin up.
Keisha stood beside Karen. Shit. I thought I only had to worry about Olivia and Shannon. I completely forgot about how overprotective Keisha was being with me since the breakin. She treated me like I could fall apart at any moment because she knew me best.
Just as Keisha took a step toward where Olivia was seated, Karen grabbed her by the hand and said, “I need a wax.”
Keisha stopped dead in her tracks. She looked back at her hand, the same one that Karen was holding. She glanced up at Karen and took a deep breath. Karen nodded and gave an encouraging smile.
“Right this way,” Keisha said, leading her down the hallway to the waxing room. Thank God for Karen. I’m not sure if I would have been able to diffuse that. I knew Keisha had had enough of Olivia and was tired of her trying to walk all over everyone. Olivia’s eyes lit up with a job-well-done attitude. I had had enough of her too, but she was right, she was a top client and an investor. I wouldn’t say angel, more demonic. So I did what I always did—I put on a smile and took care of her.
33
Karen
I followed Keisha into the waxing room. It was small and brightly lit with a massage table in the center of it. A few cabinets lined the walls. As Keisha closed the door behind us, she let out a deep breath. I held mine for a moment, just long enough to have a few doubts slither across my mind. Was I doing the right thing? Did right and wrong even matter? Was I ready to throw away the life I had? Was there a life to even throw away? I hadn’t been happy in so long, I forgot what happy was . . . until Keisha. The thoughts disappeared faster than they surfaced, and I exhaled the doubts.
“I saved you,” I said, pulling my hair free from its ponytail and twirling a piece of it around my finger.
“The only person you’re saving is Olivia, from me kicking her bony ass,” Keisha said matter-of-factly before cracking a smile.
“I know she gets to you. She gets to all of us.” I propped up Keisha’s chin with the ends of my fingertips, ensuring her icy-blue eyes met mine.
“Jenny can’t handle her bullshit right now. I know she says she’s fine, but she’s not,” Keisha confessed.
“Of course, she’s not. It’s only been a few days,” I rationalized.
Keisha nodded, dropping eye contact for a moment before her eyes returned to me.
Typically, I had a hard time looking someone in the eye and holding a gaze. Eye contact, such a standard way of communicating but so difficult to master. I’d always be the first to look away, to pretend something caught my eye . . . but not this time. With Keisha, I couldn’t look away. Her eyes held everything—my courage, my trust, my fear, my curiosity, my desire. I had thought about little else since our last meeting. It wasn’t simply the kiss, incredible though it was, but something more than that. We go through life searching for a sense of belonging, of connection, and so often we are disappointed. How can anyone even begin to define what draws two people together like magnets? I spent my teenage years reading romance novels, believing in a fairy-tale version of love that never quite came to pass for me. So, just like that passage in Corinthians, I committed to putting away childish things and settled instead for being a good partner, wife, and mother. I buried that secret place inside of me that longed for real connection, real intimacy. Now, in Keisha’s presence, I had begun to question my choices. Perhaps all the love stories of my teenage years weren’t so foolish after all? It’s like when you take that leap into a body of unfamiliar water. You have no idea what you’re getting into, and that’s how it was with Keisha. Would I drown or somehow learn to swim in this new sea? Or would I be thankful after I got out that my feet were planted back on solid ground again? It didn’t matter though. None of it mattered. I was going to jump.
I could feel my cheeks redden and my heartbeat quicken.
“And Olivia doesn’t get to me,” Keisha said.
“She doesn’t?” I raised an eyebrow.
“You do.”
Before the words finished echoing throughout the small room, her lips were on mine. They were soft and warm, just like I remembered. Her hands slid the straps of my tank top down my shoulders, revealing my small breasts. Someone could have walked in at any moment. But I was so lost in the moment that I didn’t care. She pushed my red locks back, and her plump lips followed the trace of her fingertips, leaving light cherry-red lipstick marks on my neck, shoulders, collarbone, and breasts. My breath became ragged and quick. My head spun. My body tensed up. She pushed me back onto the massage table. I fell hard, nearly rolling off. We giggled and then quieted ourselves. She finished removing my tank top, softly rubbing and kissing each of my breasts. I straightened out on the table as if I were adjusting myself for a bikini wax . . . Keisha pressed my legs apart. A sinful smile spread across my face as our eyes met. Wrapping and tucking her fingers beneath the waistband of my yoga pants, she pulled them toward her, curling them down my hips.
I took a deep breath. We were doing this.
34
Crystal