Free The Night Before Thirty by Tajuana Butler Page B

contractor out here in San Diego,” John said, introducing the two.
    “This is the one I've been telling you about, John. This is Alecia.”
    “Nice to meet you,” John said. “Absolutely gorgeous.” He took her hand and kissed it.
    Alecia smiled, then shook Al's hand.
    John said something to William, and then patted Al on the back.
    William reached in his pocket, pulled out his platinum card, and placed it in her hand. “Alecia, go inside the VIP room. Order yourself a drink. Start a tab, and I'll be right in.”
    Alecia sternly eyed William, not sure if she was being brushed off. He slowly and gently kissed her on the cheek. “Baby, I'll be right in. I know you'll have no problem handling yourself. I'm right behind you.”
    Alecia turned away from him and waved at the guy at the rope. He looked up at John, who motioned for him to let her enter, and Alecia walked in.
    Few people were inside. Alecia considered it evidence of the elite clientele—because everybody was on the same social level, there was no one to be separated from. She scoped the scene, and no one stood out or caught her eye. It was a cosmopolitan crowd across the line.
    She approached the bar and ordered an apple martini. To the right of her was an African who was intensely watching her every move. He seemed desperate to know her, so she made a more concerted effort to ignore him. To the left of her were three women in cocktail dresses wearing clusters of diamonds on their fingers, reflecting years of marriage. They were too mature and would probably be threatened by her, so she didn't even bother speaking to them.
    The bartender came back with her drink. “I'll handle that,” the guy standing to her left said in a heavy Nigerian accent.
    “It won't be necessary. It's already taken care of,” she said and handed the bartender William's card. “I'd like to start a tab with that. He'll be in shortly.”
    “No problem,” the bartender said, and walked away with the card.
    “What is your name, pretty lady?”
    After checking him out from head to toe, Alecia concluded that although he had some cash, his money was probably not enough. She began going through her limited Nigerian vocabulary, trying to remember if one of her Nigerian beaus had taught her to say “Fuck off ” in their language.
    “You are a beautiful American lady. They will love you where I'm from. You remind me of the Ethiopian women in Africa.”
    Alecia knew his type and was not in the mood. She knew that if she moved, he would follow, so she weighed her options and decided it was time to make nice with the married women to her left.
    She quickly turned toward them and inched closer, searching for an opening line.
    “Cute watch. Van Cleef and Arpels?”
    “Exactly,” the lady responded, surprised.
    “Very nice. I purchased a similar one for my mom for Mother's Day.”
    “You have good taste.” The lady smiled. “My husband got this for me 'just because.' ”
    She returned the smile.
    Alecia's first inclination was to avoid conversing with the women and go back out to where William was, but her curiosity got the better of her.
    “This is my first time visiting this club. Have any of you come here before tonight?” She knew it was a corny question, but it was worth the information it would bring.
    “The two of us have come here more often than we'd like to admit,” another answered, then took a sip of wine. “My husband recently bought this place. It's like a big playpen for him. But it is Phyllis's first time,” the woman answered, gesturing at the woman with the Van Cleef & Arpels watch. “She's visiting from Los Angeles.”
    No way!
Alecia screamed inside.
This can't be. She can't possibly be William's wife.
    “By the way, I'm Donna Lake, this is Renee Border, and this is our friend Phyllis Masterson.”
    So this is my competition,
Alecia thought. She sized up Phyllis, not able to find any flaws. Obviously well kept, Phyllis was elegantly and tastefully dressed.