Free In The Cut by Arlene Brathwaite Page A

door and letting himself out.
    Saint folded his arms. “I like him already.”
     
    At one o’clock on the dot, a fleet of Mercedes Limos turned off of Madison. Saint knew they were there by the way the reporters were scrambling. Four blonde, bombshells, quadruplets, stepped out of the first limo, wearing dresses designed by Laurent Petrescu. The women stood on each side of the door as Petrescu stepped out holding the hand of a bombshell that looked like the first four. The women were in fact quintuplets. Cameras were clicking, reporters were talking into their mini tape recorders. Out of the next three limos came mixed couples of different nationalities, and the last ones to exit the limos were the designers of the fashions that the models were showcasing. The last, and the longest, limo dramatically rolled up. The chauffeur stepped out and walked around to the backdoor and didn’t open it until he heard a soft tap on the window.
    As he swung the door open a set of looong legs appeared.
    The face of the woman to whom they belong to finally came into view. The Glamazon was six-two, blue eyes, and had flamingred hair. Everyone’s attention went back to the door where another set of looong legs stepped out onto the sidewalk. An exact replica of the Glamazon exited the limo and stood to her full six-two height. Both women were wearing identical, body-hugging dresses. Long slits up the sides let everyone know that the Glamazon twins were wearing French-cut panties. Both women stood on the sidewalk awaiting the appearance of their benefactor.
    Marion Claude stepped out of the limo greeting the cameras with the Miss America wave. Reporters shot a couple questions at him, to which he only smiled, and pretended to be looking for someone.
    “I do not know how you found out that I would be here,” he said, with a surprised look. “I am here only to visit a very dear friend of mine, Miss Olivia Martin. Now, if you will excuse me.” Marion Claude looped his arms around the waists of the flaming red head, super model twins, and headed for Butta Cutz. Olivia greeted him at the door. He embraced her and kissed her on both cheeks like they’d known each other for years. Before he pulled away from her, he whispered in her ear.
    “I’m impressed. I was expecting only a couple reporters.”
    Olivia winked at him as she ushered him inside.
    Olivia introduced all of her employees to Marion Claude, and Marion Claude introduced them to the other fashion designers. Marion Claude complimented Olivia on the decorations, and even commented loud enough for the reporters to hear.
    “Anyone who does not come to Butta Cutz is not worth the air he breathes. This is the Mecca of men salons in the West.” He looked to the front door and waved at the men with boxes in their hands to come in. Men, who looked to be second-string models, brought in boxes of all sizes. Now, it was Olivia’s turn to act surprised. Marion Claude insisted she open them right there in the reception area. When she opened the first one, she didn’t have to act surprised anymore. The first box contained a dress with a design so intricate that she knew it was one of a kind. The next was a velvet box from Petrescu. Olivia opened it and she was at a loss for words. Baby, Grace and Esther were stunned. Olivia pulled out the tennis bracelet and marveled at the different color stones glistening in the sunlight. Olivia knew how much something like this cost. What she didn’t know was how could Petrescu afford to just give it to her as a gift? Every box that she opened, the cameras were there clicking away, and Marion Claude was right by her side.
    After Marion Claude’s “gift extravaganza,” he removed his jacket and allowed Olivia to lead him to her chair. She was telling Grace and the rest of her team to tend to the others when Marion Claude stopped her.
    “Don’t worry about them. They are only here as decorations.” Olivia looked around, and then she noticed that