Keisha let out a huff. “No . . . I don’t know. You think your husband is cheating on you and you’re pissed about it, despite the fact you’re sleeping with me. What do you expect me to think?”
I rubbed my forehead with my fingers. She was right. I didn’t know what to say or what to think or even what I wanted her to think. “It’s just really complicated,” I finally said.
“What’s complicated? You either want to be with me or you don’t. You either want to be with your husband or you don’t. What is it you want?”
I looked around the room and then back at her, my gaze drawn to her full lips again. Her eyes begged for an answer. I thought about my life with Mark. The passion had disappeared long ago. Then there was Keisha. When I was with her, I didn’t question myself. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with me. I just thought about the moment. About us. About how I felt. About how natural it was. Not forced. Just the way it should be. Effortless. But I had to think about my business, my son, and my life as a whole. But that could wait for now.
“I want you. I only want you,” I said as I closed the gap between us, kissing her so hard she’d forget why we were fighting in the first place. It worked. She kissed me back. Her hands all over my body, unclasping my bra, on my breasts, beneath my panties. My hands following suit on her body. Lips on lips. Tongue on skin. Our breathing heightened, while “If I Ain’t Got You” by Alicia Keys played softly on Keisha’s phone. She pushed me onto the table, and our hands ventured south while she kissed my lips, sucking on my bottom one. I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on my breathing. Trying to wait for her, so we could finish together. We were in this together.
The door slamming against the wall stopped us dead in our tracks. I sprang away from Keisha and quickly covered myself with my hands. Keisha startled, swiftly doing the same.
“What in the fuck is going on here?” Olivia’s eyes and mouth were wide open. She stood there taking it all in—Keisha and me, half-naked, struggling to catch our breath. She looked at each of us, raising an eyebrow, her mouth transforming from a perfect circle to a devilish half smile.
“I didn’t realize finger-banging was a service offered here,” she said with a laugh, then she turned on her heel and walked out of the room. I glanced at Keisha, exchanging a look of horror, and I quickly threw on my clothes.
“Olivia, wait!” I ran out of the room, chasing after her.
48
Olivia
Sitting in Jenny’s salon chair, I waited impatiently for her to arrive. We had an appointment. I was late. She was later, and Jenny was never tardy. Her time wasn’t important like mine. I sent a few text messages, then admired myself in the mirror. My hair, although long and luscious, needed a little volume. My latest Botox injections had started to wear off, allowing me to express my emotions more visually—like the shock I felt thirty minutes ago when I walked in on Keisha and Karen. Who would have thought? Mommy Dearest and Little Miss Perfect Realtor diving all the way to the bottom of Lake Muff. Karen begged me to keep it to myself, and I obliged after some groveling on her part. As long as I held other people’s secrets, I had power. I wasn’t sure yet what I would do with this new power, but for now, I’d hold on to it. What would Mark think of all this? I mean, he had his own little dark sexual fantasies. Such a submissive man. I’m actually not surprised he turned Karen gay.
“Hi, so sorry I’m late.” Jenny emerged from the back. Her hair was tied up in a haphazard ponytail. Her clothes were rumpled. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her face was blotchy. It looked like she had been crying. She immediately wrapped a cape around me, pulling my hair out of it and fluffing it.
“What will it be today?”
I examined her reflection in the mirror while she waited for me to answer. There was clearly something wrong. Did I care? Probably not. Did I want to know what was bothering her? Knowledge was power.
“Are you okay?” I asked. My face turned sympathetic. It was something I had practiced through watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy, when the doctor had to tell some poor patient’s family their loved one didn’t make it. The look on the doctor’s face was always one of sympathy. It required a slightly pinched brow, fused lips, a small rise of the forehead, and eyes that were engaged with the one you intended to be sympathetic for. I had mastered it.
“Yeah, I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed, and I’ve just been off since the break-in,” she confessed while combing through my hair.
Oh yes, the break-in. I nearly forgot about that because it didn’t affect me in the slightest. I was beyond tired of hearing about it. It wasn’t that big a deal. Like, she was fine. Sure, a little beaten up. But the skin heals perfectly, and I should know. Mine’s been cut into a dozen times and look at me, I’m stunning.
“That must have been horrible.” I feigned interest.
She slightly nodded. “Yeah, I’m still working through it.”
Ugh! When I made this appointment, I didn’t realize I’d accepted an invitation to Jenny’s pity party. For Christ’s sake! I suppose I brought this on myself. They were just supposed to break some things and leave. That’s it! Just enough to rattle her. It was punishment for her kicking me out of the salon. She wasn’t supposed to be at Glow when it happened, and those buffoons I hired messed the whole thing up. When I saw Jenny after the attack, I felt the tiniest pang of guilt. Like when I cheat on my diet—that type of guilt, small and fleeting.
“What’s there to work through?” I pried, holding eye contact with her. She glanced around, then at my hair, and then back at me.
She hesitated, and I thought for sure she was going to close up and change the subject, but I have a way with people.
“Umm . . . going through that made me feel violated. I’m not sure if that’s even the right word.” Jenny brought out a container of large hair rollers and sectioned off the hair on the top of my head.
“Understandable.” I raised an eyebrow but quickly lowered it to its sympathetic position. “I’m sure you’re feeling alone as well.”
Jenny’s eyes widened slightly as she rolled one of the curlers and pinned it.
“Yeah, even more so now. It made me realize that I needed more outside of these four walls,” she said, looking around.
“So, it was a good thing it happened?” I perked a lip up.
“I wouldn’t say that at all.” She shook her head.
“My mistake.”
She continued to roll curlers into my hair quietly. Every curler had the same amount of hair in it. Jenny was so meticulous and fervent about her work. If only she could apply that same type of passion to her personal life, then maybe she wouldn’t be feeling sorry for herself.
“I think you just need a night out.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Perfect. It’s settled then. You’ll come out with us girls. Me, Karen, and Crystal, and you can bring your little Keisha friend.” I grabbed my phone and started typing up a group text message.
“Oh . . . no . . . no . . . no,” she said, shaking her head.
“I won’t take no for an answer.” I raised an eyebrow and hit Send on my phone. Jenny’s phone buzzed. She picked it up, and I could see her cringe as she read my message.
Hey ladies. Jenny NEEDS us! She’s in dire need of a night out, Buckhead style. Meeting at Death & Company tonight at 9 p.m. See y’all there.
She forced a smile as she set her phone down and went back to working on my hair.
“You’re going to have a killer time,” I said with a wink.
I knew she had no interest in spending any time with me outside of Glow, but I didn’t care. This would be fun and would surely make up for the little strangulation incident I caused. Jenny and I had been butting heads for a while, so it was time to get her to fall back in line—behind me.
49
Crystal