Authors: Velvet
“Do you have an appointment?” asked the assistant, giving Kennedy a scrutinizing look.
Kennedy hadn’t thought of calling ahead to schedule a meeting with Mira. What if she isn’t available? “Uh, no,” she responded, feeling like an imbecile for not anticipating the obvious.
“I’m sorry, but she doesn’t see
anyone
without an appointment,” the woman said in a condescending tone.
“Can you just tell her Kennedy Bryant is here?”
She raised an eyebrow and asked, “From?”
“I’m a personal friend,” Kennedy said, stretching the truth,
and smiled, trying to disarm her. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by to say hello,” she said, lying again.
The overprotective assistant looked skeptical, and then slowly dialed Mira’s extension on the intercom. “Ms. Rhone, I know you just walked in a little while ago, but a Ms. Kennedy Bryant is here to see you.” She nodded, hung up, and said reluctantly, “You can go in.”
When Kennedy entered Mira’s office, she was on the phone and motioned for her to have a seat. Kennedy couldn’t believe the opulence of the furnishings. Mira’s desk, a five-foot Biedermeier, must have cost a small fortune. A crimson ultra-suede sofa in the same hue as FACEZ’s signature red lipstick sat in the far corner in a living room–type environment. She took a seat in one of the matching chairs and waited for Mira to complete her call.
“Henry, I’ll be right down. I’m just finishing up another call.” She released one line, clicked over to another, and instantly jumped back into the conversation. “Oliver, I’m looking at the report as we speak,” Mira said, holding a spreadsheet in one hand and the receiver in the other. “I see the numbers for the DNA 4U beauty cream are up from last quarter.” She leaned back in her chair smiling.
While Mira engaged in her business call, Kennedy decided to turn her phone back on and check messages. Sixty seconds after she clicked the phone on, it beeped three consecutive times, indicating that she had messages.
Maybe it’s from Nigel,
she thought, dialing into the voice-mail system.
“Kennedy, this is Monica, calling to see if you can switch off days with me? Hit me back when you get this message. Bye.” Kennedy made a mental note to call her back and erased the call.
“Ken, call me, it’s extremely important!” It was Naomi, sounding frantic.
She began to immediately dial the number. Normally Naomi
was calm and reserved, but there was an urgency in her voice that was alarming.
“What a surprise!” Mira spoke from across the room once she finished her call. The last time she saw Kennedy was at the book club meeting, and Kennedy seemed to be in a bad mood. Mira started to mention the incident, but decided not to. Being a busy executive, she didn’t have many friends, and was actually enjoying the camaraderie of the book club.
Kennedy stopped in mid-dial, stood up, walked over to Mira’s desk, and took a seat in one of the chairs facing her. “Hey there, I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by to check out the haunts of a mogul.” She smiled. Kennedy knew that she had acted ugly at the book club meeting, and hoped that Mira wouldn’t mention it.
“What mogul? Where?” Mira laughed, turning from side to side, peering over her shoulder.
The prepared script suddenly vanished from Kennedy’s mind, and she smiled nervously, not knowing how to broach the subject of Nigel and her suspicions. It wasn’t like they were best friends, so she had to tread lightly. “Don’t be modest. Your company has been on the Fortune 500 list for years, and it wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for good leadership,” Kennedy said, stroking Mira’s ego, trying to extend the idle chitchat until her pre-rehearsed speech reappeared.
“So . . . what really brings you by?” Mira asked, curious to know the real reason for Kennedy’s visit.
Realizing that the direct approach was the best approach, Kennedy said, “It’s about Nigel.”
Mira furrowed her brow, causing lines to form across her smooth forehead, “Nigel? What about him?”
“I think he’s . . .” Kennedy stopped midsentence, looked down, and began to wring her hands. She didn’t want to admit that the man she had envisioned a future with was possibly sabotaging FACEZ.
Mira brought her chair closer, put her elbows on the desk, and asked, puzzled, “What is it, Kennedy? You think he’s what?”
“He’s . . .” Before the words could escape Kennedy’s lips, her cell phone rang. The phone was still in her hand from earlier. She looked down at the caller ID. It was Naomi. Kennedy started to let the call go to voice mail, but remembered the urgency in Naomi’s voice and decided to answer the phone.
“Excuse me,” she mouthed. “Hello?”
“Ken, it’s me. Are you with Mira?” Naomi panted, as if out of breath.
“Yeah, what’s up?” Kennedy asked, trying to sound casual.
“Have you told her about the check?”
“No, not yet.”
Naomi exhaled heavily. “Good. Don’t say a word. I can explain everything. Just get the heck out of there and meet me at your apartment.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. See you in a few,” Naomi said, hanging up.
Mira had Kennedy in a death stare, waiting for her to continue. “As you were saying?”
“Uh, uh,” Kennedy stammered, trying to devise a clever lie. “I think he’s a great guy, and uh, I’m sorry it didn’t work out with you two,” she said lamely. So much for being clever.
Mira looked at Kennedy as if she were a few fries short of a Happy Meal. “What? You came all the way up here to tell me
that
?”
“Yep.” Kennedy stood up. “See you tomorrow at the book club meeting. Gotta run,” she said in a huff, and tore out of Mira’s office, leaving her sitting there baffled and bewildered.
THE MOMENT THE
elevator opened, Naomi rushed up to Kennedy. “Have I got Holiday News for you,” she said, using the term they adopted for tantalizing information.
“What? What?” Kennedy asked, anxious to hear what Naomi had to say. Kennedy fumbled with the key, until she unlocked the door. “Tell me what’s so important!” she said, once inside the apartment.
Naomi shoved a piece of paper in Kennedy’s face without saying a word.
Kennedy took the note out of her hand and read it:
ONE MORE TRANSACTION,
THEN OUR BUSINESS WILL BE COMPLETE.
THANKS FOR HOLDING UP YOUR END OF THE DEAL,
R. S.
“Where’d you get this?” Kennedy waved the paper in front of Naomi’s face. “It’s a copy of the same note I found with the check that fell out of Nigel’s briefcase,” she said, shocked.
“Yeah, I know.”
Kennedy shook her head. “What do you mean, you know?” She still didn’t have a clue what Naomi was trying to say. “You said you had Holiday News.” Kennedy handed the note back to her. “Well, I’m waiting.”
“Don’t you get it?” Naomi asked as if the obvious was staring Kennedy right in the face, threatening to smack her upside the head. “R. S.?” she asked, as if the initials held the hidden secret.
“I know, R. S., Rob Sherr, Nigel’s former boss, so what?” Kennedy asked, totally irritated. “Naomi, pulezzze,” she said, emphasizing the word
please,
“tell me something that I don’t already know.”
“R. S., as in Rio Stanis, not Rob Sherr.”
Kennedy stood in the middle of the living room with a blank look. “Who the hell is Rio Stanis?”
“The curator at the Museum of Urban Art.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember, your boss. But what does he have to do
with this?” Kennedy asked, before Naomi could finish her sentence.
Naomi walked over to the sofa and sat down. “Are you ready for this?”
“I’ve been ready since we walked into the apartment. Now please tell me what’s going on,” Kennedy said, joining her on the couch.
“I was at MUA earlier today doing my bimonthly volunteer gig and Rio asked me to schedule a pickup from a private collector. And guess who that collector happened to be?” she asked, continuing with the twenty questions.
“Naomi, enough with the riddles and guessing games; just tell me straight, no chaser.”
“Okay, okay.” She scooted toward Kennedy. “I was going through the paperwork and guess whose name magically appeared in front of me?”
When Kennedy pinned Naomi with a no-nonsense-don’t-toy-with-me stare, she continued without waiting for an answer. “Nigel.” She jumped off the sofa. “Girl, he’s selling his artwork to the museum. That’s what the note was all about. Rio wrote it when Nigel sold him the first Jacob Lawrence piece, and you found it, thinking that he was selling information to Rob Sherr, his old boss. Now do you get it?”
Kennedy let Naomi’s words sink in and marinate before answering, and thought back to the magnificent artwork hanging in Nigel’s apartment. “You mean to tell me, he’s selling his paintings and that’s why he had a check for a quarter of a million dollars?”
“Yep.” She nodded. “And get this, he’s going to receive another check for the same amount for the second painting.”
Kennedy slumped back on the sofa feeling like a complete idiot. She thought that Nigel was selling proprietary information, and all along he was selling
his
artwork. Having trust issues
with so many men over the years had Kennedy paranoid to the point that she was ready to accuse Nigel, who’d been nothing but honest, of a felony. “Oh,” was all she could manage to say.
Naomi looked at Kennedy. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s just hard to believe, that’s all.”
“But you believed the espionage theory. I don’t get it.”
Kennedy held her head down in shame. “Girl, it’s all the losers I’ve dated before Nigel that’s got me so paranoid. I should’ve known that he wouldn’t do anything as dubious as selling trade secrets to FACEZ’s competitor.” She thought for a minute. “Now the question is, why is he selling those paintings? But more importantly, why wouldn’t he tell me?”
“You’re asking the wrong person, because I don’t have a clue. You need to ask Nigel that.”
Naomi was right, and as soon as he resurfaced, Kennedy would be armed and loaded with a barrelful of questions.
“
SO WHERE
’
S
your sidekick?” Naomi asked Tyler as she walked into the kitchen. She hadn’t seen much of Tyler since she’d been spending the majority of her time at Mira’s.
“Ha, ha. Mira had a meeting, but she’ll be here soon. And by the way, I’ll be moving into Mira’s place after our book club meeting today. She officially asked me to move in the other day,” Tyler said, with a huge grin on her face.
“I’m not surprised. You practically live there anyway.” Naomi’s attitude toward Tyler had totally changed. After living with her sister-in-law over the past few months, she came to realize that Tyler was no different from any other woman, except for her sexual preference. And just because she liked women didn’t make her a monster. Naomi had imposed her prejudgments on Tyler before she really got a chance to know her, and even though they didn’t hang out on a regular basis, Tyler was a decent human being. At the end of the day, that was all that really mattered.
“Well, I am. It happened so fast, but I really like Mira. She’s a bit of a control freak, but I don’t mind. I’m basically a homebody
anyway, and when she’s at work, I can get my assignments done. I love being in a relationship, so this situation works for me. Besides, you and Jacob need this house to yourselves.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well . . .” She blushed again. “I heard you guys getting busy the other night. I wasn’t trying to pry, but when I came in the house to pick up a few of my things, you guys were
snacking
rather loudly in the solarium.”
Naomi started blushing, reminiscing about that night. Jacob had come home from work and nearly attacked her as she sat reading the business plan that she had recently gotten from the consultant. But before Jacob could really get his groove on, Naomi confronted him again about cheating, and once again he denied it. Naomi realized that continuing to accuse him without proof was useless, so she dropped the subject, but broached another one. She told him about her plans for starting an interior design business, and asked him for the seed money. Jacob had a few pointed questions, and when she presented him with the plans, he was impressed and agreed to give her the money. Naomi was so happy that she let Jacob eat her out on the love seat in the solarium. “Well, he agreed to fund my business. I was so happy that I agreed to—let’s just say, accommodate him,” she said with a giggle.
“I’m glad. There’s nothing like running your own business. I may not be getting a paycheck every two weeks, but I love the flexibility of not having a regular nine to five.”
“Well, I’m really looking forward to it, since it’ll give me something else to do with my time,” Naomi said. Now that she wasn’t going to be joining the Black Door, she needed an outlet, but of course she wasn’t about to tell Tyler this.
“Well, it looks as if we both have good news,” Tyler said, grabbing a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and holding it up in a toasting position.
“We need to toast your new love and my business with a real drink instead of water,” Naomi said, turning her attention back to making lemon drop shots. After cutting the lemons in wedges, she placed them in a bowl and drenched the entire lot with vodka, then sprinkled them with powdered sugar. Naomi took a wedge out, and handed one to Tyler. “Here’s to the future!” They each took a plug out of the lemons.
“Whew,” Tyler said, twisting her face at the sweet and sour taste. “That’s good. Tart, but good.”
Over the next hour, they polished off half of the lemon drop shots and made finger sandwiches for the meeting. Just as Naomi was making another batch of shots, the doorbell rang. She teetered to the door feeling quite lovely, with a mild buzz.
“I need some of whatever you’ve been drinking,” Kennedy said, taking one look at Naomi’s slightly inebriated state.
“Girl, get in here.” Naomi pulled her by the arm. “And give me the scoop. Have you talked to Nigel?”
Kennedy stepped into the foyer. “Yeah, I’ve talked to him.”