Cheesecake and Teardrops (28 page)

As they said their vows, the lump in Nate's throat grew. After all she had been through these past few months, he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life protecting her and making her happy. They exchanged rings. Charisma's hands shook ever so slightly as she placed the ring on his finger. He took her hands in his and brought them to her lips tenderly. The minister pronounced them man and wife, and he kissed his bride.

It was official. They were married. Everyone applauded as the happy couple left the ceremony.

“We did it,” Charisma told her husband.

“Yes we did, Mrs. Arquettte. By the way, are you hyphenating or—?”

“Not,” she said, barely giving him a chance to finish the sentence.

They walked down to the lower level of the yacht with barely enough time to catch their breath before the wellwishers were huddled all around them. The photographer took loads of pictures of the bridal party as the upper level was revamped for the reception.

Charisma could not believe her eyes when she and Nate walked into the reception area. The room was bathed in candlelight and white flowers. As Nate and Charisma took the floor for their first dance, the videographer busied himself capturing the moment. They chose Heatwave's “Always and Forever” for their first dance.

Later, Jena and the bride danced to the Stylistics “You Are Beautiful”, a song that expressed how both she and Ellis Dearborn felt toward their daughter. After that dance, there wasn't a dry eye on the yacht.

Jena took the microphone. She wanted to present the newlyweds with their wedding gift. “When Charisma was a little girl,” she began. “She walked around with a little suitcase and wanted to be called Traveling Barbie. My husband, Ellis, promised her that one day he would take her abroad, but life got in the way. We were never able to go. We first met Nate when my daughter invited him over for Thanksgiving dinner. Afterward, Ellis said that Nate was the
one
.

So before he passed,” she said, turning to Charisma and Nate, “we made arrangements to send you and my new son-in-law on a very special honeymoon—to Paris.”

“Oh my goodness!” Charisma exclaimed, tears rolling down her cheeks. Nate kissed her tears away, and Jena hugged them both. As the yacht circled Manhattan, they danced the night away under the stars.

 

Three days later Nate and Charisma's plane landed at Charles de Gaulle International Airport. They were staying at the Hilton, just minutes away from the Eiffel Tower. It was a lovely room with a king-sized bed and a large bathroom with a bidet. There was even a large-screen TV, but they didn't intend on watching it much.

They would spend ten days in Paris. The weather was gorgeous. The first day they did absolutely nothing, but they had dinner at a nearby château recommended by the concierge. They ordered the duck and a wonderful bottle of champagne. Charisma and Nate strolled back to the hotel hand in hand. It was a beautiful night, and they made beautiful love.

One evening they had a local street artist sketch their portraits. Then they took a trip down the Seine River on the Rive Gauche, snapping pictures of Notre Dame and the St. Michael Bridge. By the tour's end it was nightfall, and the Eiffel Tower was all aglow.

An older Parisian couple asked if they were honeymooners. Nate and Charisma smiled at each other.

“
Oui.
” The Parisienne lady smiled.

“Why don't you let me take a photo of you and your bride and the Tower,” the gentleman asked.

“
Merci, monsieur.
” Nate handed him the digital camera.

“You're French is very good. You are Americains, no?”

“
Oui,
” Nate and Charisma said as he snapped a couple of pictures.

“May you always be as happy as you are tonight,” the Frenchman said, returning the camera.

“
Merci beaucoup,
” Nate said.

“
Au revoir,
” the couple said.

 

The next morning Charisma and Nate rose early to start the day. They had a light breakfast in the hotel before heading out to see the world's most famous museum, the Louvre. No stranger to New York museums, they were totally unprepared for the Louvre's magnificence. They entered the glass pyramid and made their way down into the building that housed such famous masterpieces as the
Mona Lisa
. and the
Family Jewels
. There was even an entire wing dedicated to Egypt. It was easy to see how one could spend days in the Louvre without seeing it all. Charisma left the museum awestruck.

From there they did some light shopping along the Champs-Elysées. Very light, once they saw the price tags in some of those ritzy boutiques. Nate bought his wife some of her favorite French perfume, and she in turn bought him a pair of shades.

That night they went to the very risqué Moulin Rouge for dinner and a show. Charisma smiled to herself when she finally spotted a fat Frenchwoman. Who said they were nonexistent?

They hopped into a taxicab just as it was beginning to drizzle. Nate gave the driver the name of a chic jazz club recommended by the concierge. As they entered the hot spot Charisma was reminded once again of the Parisians love of cigarettes. She still wasn't used to all that concentrated smoking, but the jazz was too sweet to cut short. They left around three in the morning, and Charisma was relieved to reacquaint herself with the fresh night air. She held Nate close.

“Cold, baby?” he asked as they cuddled in the cab.

“Just enjoying my husband,” she whispered in his ear, nibbling as she spoke. “His scent, his touch, his taste. I could go on and on.”

Nate paid the driver. “Then let's take this party upstairs.” He gently pulled her out of the cab.

“
Oui, oui monsieur,
” she said, grinning.

 

On their last full day in Paris, they slept until noon and ordered room service—omelets, fruit, fresh-baked croissants with jams, and the most delicious coffee.

“So what's on the agenda today, Mr. Arquette?”

“Well, I thought we might go see the Arc de Triomphe. I know how much you love Manhattan's version in Washington Square Park.”

“That'll be fun,” she said. “Let's get dressed.”

Nate got up from the table and pulled Charisma toward him, then gently eased her back unto the bed. He moved on top of her, sliding his hand up her silk robe. She wore nothing underneath except a lace thong, which he tugged at with his forefinger and pulled completely off. She moaned in anticipation, untying her robe and completely opening it up.

Nate slid his tongue into her mouth, kissing her hard. She had to catch her breath as he gently tickled her clitoris with his fingertip. Then, he rolled her over until she was lying on top. He sat up. Charisma mounted him as he bent his knees and supported her back with the front of his thighs. She began rolling her hips as he bucked his. He grabbed her tits. Faster and faster she gyrated, throwing her head back. As he rubbed her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, she churned his dick into her honey well, making sure it teased and lubricated just the right spot. Nate fucked her until she thought she'd lose her mind.

When she could stand it no more, she broke out into a spasm so strong that all she could do was collapse back onto his thighs. A moment later, the dam seemed to break as he flooded her with his juices. They both laid there for a moment, glued together by their love. After a quick nap, they showered, dressed, and said
au revoir
to the City of Lights.

After another round of musical chairs, Heather was third in line for Cinderella's eyebrow seat. It was a Saturday morning and Heather's once ice-cold bottle of water was now tepid, condensation wetting her palm and fingers. Cinderella concentrated on doing brows while her assistant rang up sales of cosmetics and skin-care products. By the time it was Heather's turn to have her eyebrows done, the shop had emptied out.

Cinderella paused to answer the phone before giving Heather her full attention. “So how are you, my queen?” she asked Heather.

“I'm okay,” Heather said. “Just trying to stay cool.”

“Tell me something.” Cinderella readjusted her lab coat.

“Who is Paula?” she asked, lowering her voice as she applied warm wax to Heather's brows.

“An old classmate from high school. You know her?”

“Honey, Paula came in here a couple of weeks ago saying she wanted eyebrows just like yours. I looked at her as if to say ‘are you for real?'”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her that you are one of a kind and so are your eyebrows, but that based on her face shape I could give her brows that would flatter her most.”

“She's
still
a trip.” Heather shook her head.

“There was just something about her. I think she has a hidden agenda. Just watch your back, my sister. She's not your friend.”

 

Heather and Tangie were seated in IHOP, awaiting breakfast. Heather glanced around at the other patrons. There was a man sitting a few tables away from them sipping coffee and watching Heather's every move. Their eyes met, and she quickly looked away.

Breakfast finally arrived. Tangie said grace and sunk her teeth into delicious melt-in-your-mouth pancakes, an omelet, and turkey sausages. Heather looked up from her mushroom omelet, and the coffee man was staring her down again.

“He's got it bad,” Tangie whispered, referring to the middle-aged bespeckled man. “What do you
do
to these men?”

“I didn't do anything,” Heather insisted. “I'm sitting here eating my breakfast like everyone else.”

“In other words, you just got it like that.” Tangie laughed.

“And look, here it comes now.”

“I couldn't help but notice you from across the room,” he began. “You're beautiful. Are you mixed?” He waited for a response from Heather, which didn't come. “I'll make a deal with you,” he continued. “I'll pick up the tab for you and your friend if you'll have dinner with me tonight.”

This time Heather smiled. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Positive,” Heather replied.

“Okay, then, you ladies enjoy your day.” He waddled off.

“I am so sick of being asked if I'm mixed. Aren't we all?”

Heather rolled her eyes. “Apparently, someone failed American history.”

“Wow, a free breakfast offer.” Tangie smiled at Heather.

“Having you for a friend definitely has its privileges.”

 

The weekend ended and Monday morning rolled around sooner than Heather would have liked. Mondays meant one thing to her—gym day. She dreaded it more than almost anything, but hey, she had to admit, that the results spoke for themselves. She called A+ on her lunch break, but unfortunately, there were no assignments for her. Sighing, she hung up the phone. Another week and no shoots.

After work Heather drove her car the short distance from the library on Merrick to Canyon's Club's underground parking lot. It was relatively easy to find a spot since most people who worked in the area were leaving for the day. Heather secured the Club to the car's steering wheel, unsure if anyone wanted her hooptie or not.

Tired from a day at work, she slowly climbed the stairs, gym bag in hand. She exited the garage, reacquainting herself with the summer sun. It felt wonderfully warm against her skin, and the sounds of summer brought a smile to her cheeks. As she passed the Jamaica Multiplex on the corner, she couldn't help but think how she was looking forward to dropping a few more pounds in the coming weeks.

Heather opened the door to the gym and headed up the steps, remembering a time not too long ago when the elevator was her vehicle of choice. Slightly out of breath, she whipped out her Canyon card and made her way through the turnstile. Heather looked around. The gym was full.

She was tempted to turn around and make a hasty exit, but something pushed her onward. She quickly changed in one of the changing rooms, locked up her personal items in a locker, and headed out onto the floor.

By that time, the gym had emptied out slightly, and she was able to grab an elliptical machine. She programmed it for thirty minutes and began her routine. After a few moments, Tangie walked by, giving her two thumbs up. Grinning, Heather shook her head and kept going. She watched
Girlfriends
on the overhead TV and before she knew it, the thirty minutes were up. From there she worked on her inner and outer thighs before heading over to the slant board for some ab work. By now her T-shirt and navy leggings were damp. She chugged down a few mouthfuls of water from her bottle, wiped the beads of sweat from her brow, and headed for an exercise mat. Totally exhausted, Heather closed her eyes for a minute or two. When she opened them, a smiling Paula was walking toward her.

“Finished your workout?” Paula asked her.

“You got that right,” Heather said.

Paula extended her hand and helped her to her feet. “I know you're on your way out, but do you have a minute?”

“Sure, what's up?” Heather asked.

“Can we go someplace to talk?”

“How about Dunkin' Donuts?”

“Great. Let's get our things and grab a coffee,” Paula said.

They both emptied out their lockers and headed over to the coffee shop. The tempting aroma of doughnuts slapped them in the face. The young Indian girl at the register took their order. Paula ordered a skim-milk iced latte, and Heather had a caramel coffee coolatta. Paula insisted on paying. They chose a seat away from the door.

Paula took a sip of her iced latte before speaking. “You really have your gym routine down pat.”

“I'm just trying to get slim and trim like you,” Heather said, savoring the flavor of her coolatta.

“I'm afraid I haven't been completely honest with you.”

She paused momentarily. “I told you I lost over eighty-six pounds by working out and counting calories.”

“And you didn't?”

“Not exactly,” Paula continued. “Sure, I did those things, but that's not the whole story.”

“So what is?”

She took a deep breath. “I take these special diet pills that work like magic. I lost the weight in seven months. The pounds melted off.”

“So that's how you did it.” Heather took another sip. “So what does that have to do with me?”

“Well, I have a proposition for you, if you're interested.”

“I'm listening.”

“I know how determined you are to slim down. I just got a fresh shipment of pills. I thought that maybe you'd like a free sample.”

“What's the catch?”

“No catch,” Paula insisted. “I just want to help a full-figured sister out. That's all.”

“Are they over-the-counter pills or available by prescription only?”

“Actually,” she hesitated, stirring her iced latte with the straw. “They're not FDA approved. Not yet. But I assure you they're safe. I haven't had any problems. I feel great. You'll see.”

“There must be a reason why they're not FDA approved. That's scary.”

“It's just a matter of time before they get approval. In the meantime, you won't have to wait. So if you want in, you'll have to keep it on the DL.”

Heather thought for a moment. “This sounds too easy.”

“I'm living proof, Heather. I don't know how much you want to lose, but in a few months you can be at your goal weight too. You'll lose weight like crazy.”

“Just like that,” Heather said.

“Just like that,” Paula agreed.

 

 

By the weekend Heather had her first supply of Z3K diet pills. She took one tiny yellow pill every morning with a glass of grape juice on an empty stomach just as Paula suggested.

She did feel a little queasy at first, but that soon passed. She ate lightly throughout the day and continued her workout routine after work. Paula was right. She was already losing weight. Three pounds melted off. She ditched her old diet pills.

Jamal was amazed at her weight loss. He had been out of town for a week and a half and upon his return a slimmer Heather removed her hot pink baby doll nightie and jumped his bones. She could tell by the look on his face under her bedroom's 100-watt bulbs that he was blown away by her little lap dance, especially since her lap was smaller than when he had left. Exercise made a big difference.

“So what have you been up to lately?” he asked her as they both lay back on the bed, catching their breath.

“Just working it out,” Heather answered, deciding not to mention Paula's pills.

“Yeah, I can see that. Keep working it out, baby.” He suddenly turned serious. “You know what I love about you, Heather?”

“What's that?”

“You know exactly what you want.”

 

Heather was getting ticked-off. It had been awhile since she had signed with the modeling agency, and she had yet to be booked for her first shoot. She said as much to Don one afternoon on the phone “Try not to get discouraged, Heather,” he told her. “Success doesn't happen overnight. Have you lost any more weight?”

“I've lost another five pounds—thirty-three since we met in the mall that day.”

“Get outta here!” Don exclaimed. “You're really doing it.”

“Damn straight.”

“Tell you what. Call my assistant tomorrow to schedule another photo shoot.

Those extra pounds may make all the difference in the world with your head shots.”

“Thanks, Don.”

“No problem, doll.”

Heather called the next morning and scheduled a photo shoot for that weekend. This time she went alone. Don and Sherry were both pleased to see her, giving her double air kisses. They whisked her through hair and makeup before planting her in front of Chip and his amazing camera.

“So good to see you again, Heather,” he said, giving her a single air kiss. “You were hot before, but my goodness, look at you now.” He held her hand and viewed her from all sides. “Now,” he paused. “Let's accentuate that weight loss.”

An hour later, Heather was on the railroad headed back to Queens. The photo shoot with Chip went well. Heather was hopeful that she would soon secure her first assignment.

As promised, Paula hand-delivered a week's supply to her every Saturday. Best of all, there were no side effects, and Heather felt fine. The Z3K pills were a godsend, melting away her past sins. What more could she ask for?

 

Heather found out the answer to that question the following week. Don called about her latest photos, which he had shown to a few prospects. They all said the same thing. Her face needed a bit more definition—say, another ten pounds to be competitive. She'd have to work even harder.

She called Paula about her next shipment, and that's when she got the devastating news. Paula was having trouble securing more pills from the pharmaceutical company. They were cutting back on the manufacturing, to artificially drive up their profits once the pills were granted FDA approval.

“So many clients, so few Z3K's. You understand my predicament, Heather. Don't you?” Paula asked her.

“I really need those pills.”

“I know, honey. I know. Maybe we can come up with a deal.”

“What did you have in mind?” Heather asked.

“Something that's beneficial to both of us.”

“Like what?”

“Well,” she said slowly. “Ever since I kissed you that day on my bed, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind.”

Her voice turned husky. “I'm sure if we put our heads together we could come up with something.”

Heather was silent. Paula was just proving another reason why she didn't trust most women. They always had something up their sleeve. Paula was still an opportunistic, conniving sneak. Heather had another call coming through.

“Hold on, Paula.”

“No, why don't I give you some time to think it over? I want to take you to the next level—in more ways than one. I'm sure we'll be in touch. I can feel it.”

 

It wasn't often that Leola Grey had the pleasure of having dinner with her daughter. Between their busy work schedules and Heather's extracurricular activities, there wasn't much time left for mother-daughter talks. So an evening in with Heather was a nice change of pace.

Leola licked barbecue sauce from her fingers. “You are turning into some cook.”

“Thanks,” Heather said, slurping Crystal Light. They ate in silence for a moment, relishing the barbecue chicken, macaroni and cheese, and green beans.

“So what's going on, boobie?” Leola asked her daughter.

“Besides getting all slim and trim?”

“Well, the modeling agency wants me to lose another ten pounds.”

“Don't get carried away. It's not worth getting sick over. You've lost so much already.”

“I know, but they think that with ten more pounds the assignments will start pouring in,” Heather told her.

“And what do
you
think?”

“I'm willing to give it a shot.”

“So what's the problem?” Leola sucked on the bone.

Heather put her fork down and took a deep breath. “Ma, what if you got the chance to make all your dreams come true. What price would you be willing to pay?”

“Only you can answer that, Heather. Only you know how much your dream is worth. I can't answer that for you.”