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I had to do the right thing and thank Benxi for the performance. She was headed to South Georgia to visit her grandmother for the holidays. By the time she returned to the city, I’d be gone. What she’d done at the shelter merited a personal thank you, plus we had to talk. Woman to woman...words needed to be said.
I knew Benxi would be at the studio because she had a photoshoot that included shots in the recording booth. It was 7:30 a.m. and her Hummer was here. Once I walked inside, I noted so were her people. Make-up, hair, her assistants and bodyguards were in the lobby eating breakfast. Ghetto. I hated when they did that, so I requested they take their breakfast meeting into the breakroom. They didn’t appreciate it, but they moved.
I found Benxi in her office (yes, she had one) going through outfits and shoes with a stylist.
The door wasn’t closed so I entered. “I don’t mean to interrupt.”
Benxi plastered on a phony smile. She gave the stylist her attention for a few more minutes and ended the meeting with the words: “We’re done right?”
He cast me an annoyed look like I was messing up his session and then said to Benxi, “I’ll get that jumper to you by next week and we’ll see if the designer has those shoes in a seven.”
Benxi nodded. He pulled a few items off the rolling cart he’d been working from, gave me a two-finger wave which I returned, and left the room. I pushed the door closed.
“This is a surprise.” Benxi spun on her chair until her back was to me. She played with her hair in the lighted vanity. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I got closer. Close enough for the two of us to be visible in the mirror. I fixed my eyes on our reflection. We were so different. I, with my rich sepia skin, dark hair, and ebony eyes and she the opposite. Her skin was fawn and freckled, tan even, like she just returned from a vacation in Tahiti. Her hair, naturally dark, was covered by a blonde weave. And then there was our height. Mine, nearly formidable at 5’9 and hers dismissible, at least by me, at 5 foot.
Our eyes locked, I stepped away from her and spoke. “I wanted to thank you for the show yesterday. That was sweet of you.”
Benxi cocked her head to the side. “Well, you do know I didn’t do it for you, right?”
The smile I’d been faking became a smirk. “I’m still grateful, no matter the motivation.”
She spun her chair in my direction. “It’s my job to sing, Samaria. That’s what I do.”
“There are more than fifty shelters in the metro area, so I’m glad you chose Samaritan.”
Her eyes swept my body from head to toe and her lips tightened. “You can thank your husband.”
“Of course.” I chuckled. “I did that all night.”
Benxi’s playful veneer cracked. She hopped off her chair and stood chin to chest with me. “Glad you’re stocking up because where you’re going, I think wood is in short supply.”
I stiffened, but held my poker face.
“I heard you call me a slut last week.” She smirked. “You know, I’m not actually slutty. I’ve only been with a few men. I’m thinking that’s a whole lot less than you had when you were my age.” She raised her hand and wagged her finger. “But there is one man I would do the slut-walk for and I’m guessing you know who that is.”
I released my frustration on winded sigh. “Benxi, you are a beautiful, talented woman. You can have any man you want.”
“You know... this plea you’re making sounds a little like begging to me.” Benxi laughed and then continued. “You try to come across as so secure, but if you were really secure, you wouldn’t roll your eyes at me every time you see me, call me names behind my back and you sure wouldn’t be here at 7:30 in the morning talking about you trying to say thank you.” She stepped back, perched a hand on her hip and tossed her head back. “You came here to have your say, but I have something I’m going to say first.”
I was falling apart inside. I wanted to snatch that weave out of her head, but I kept it as cool as Michelle Obama at a White House State Dinner. I took a seat, crossed my legs, and nodded for her to go on.
“I don’t mess with married men. I’ve heard some interesting things about you in that respect.”
I interrupted. “You know being a person in the spotlight that you can’t believe everything you hear.”
She rolled her eyes. “Like I said, I don’t do married men. But I want Mekhi back.” Her tone was emphatic.
I picked an invisible piece of lint from my slacks and said, coolly, “You want him back. You sound like a spoiled little child who just wants her way, no matter the cost. He’s my husband. Do you think I’m going to hand him over?”
“He married you because you were pregnant and I’m sorry you lost your baby, but there’s no reason for him to become a prison-husband. He’s better than that.”
I swallowed hard against the mention of my loss, but managed to maintain my composure. “Don’t mention my baby again.” I cocked my head and I knew the look in my eyes was more than a warning. “This relationship Mekhi and I have started when you were in diapers. You had sex with him. Sex isn’t a relationship.”
“Is that what he told you?” She laughed. “Mekhi and I had a relationship that was special. We had and still have real chemistry. You think we broke up because of you?” She laughed again. “They have a policy at UMC. Producers don’t mess with the talent. He had a directive to end us.”
I wasn’t sure why, but I stood and that was a mistake, because she’d just knocked my legs out from under me.
She continued. “And then you came along with your desperate situation and all your drama and trouble. You were a good distraction for him. But trust and believe me, UMC is not going to be pulling those strings now that Mekhi has proved his worth as a top producer. They could care less if he and I are down.” She picked up the Billboard magazine and shoved it at me. “As a matter of fact, they might like it. We look great together.”
I was weak, but I wasn’t going out like a punk. Nor was I going to sit back and handle things with class I didn’t have. I had to be myself, and myself was going to make sure this heifer knew I was here...knew I was in the fight. I smiled. I made sure it was good and slow and condescending. “I’m well aware of all of my man’s talents and the reason you get the shakes when you see him.”
Benxi scowled as her chest heaved up and down.
“Really, I get why you’re bumpin’ around like a scratched record on repeat. If you want to spin this little fantasy and make a fool out of yourself trying to give him some tired tail that didn’t keep his attention the first time then do that, but do know this.” I stepped closer, got right up in her face. “When I come home...he’s my husband.” I raised my hand and stuck my ring in her face. “I am his wife. Not some way he empties his sac.”
Her nostrils flared. I lowered my arm.
There was a light tap on the door and it opened. Her makeup artist’s face appeared. “Sorry to disturb, but I have to get started.”
I put extra motion in my hips as I strutted to the door. Before I left, I did a half turn and said, “All the best on the tour, girl. Rock it.” Then I walked out of the room.