Chapter 3

“I need you to stop and pick up my dry cleaning if you can,” Lynox called out from the walk-in closet that was off of his and Deborah’s private bathroom.

Deborah stood at the sink, rubbing Noxzema on her face. Today was the first day in a while that she didn’t have a single errand to run. Lynox had a workshop to teach on The Ohio State University campus that would take up his entire day, and Tyson was off to school. When Tatum was awake, he required tending to, but he slept the majority of the time still. So Deborah had her day planned out. In addition to giving Tatum her undivided attention when he needed it, she was going to do some editing and would squeeze in writing her own book, which she’d been working on for years. It was just that she was always so busy putting her two cents into other people’s work that she always had to put her own story on the back burner. She’d promised herself that today would be the day when she at least warmed it up—devoted some consecrated time to her own creative endeavor. But now here came Lynox, throwing a monkey wrench into her plans.

“You drive right past the cleaners, don’t you?” Deborah asked.

“Yeah, but I’m not going to have time to stop, and I need the suit for the Laroques’ event tonight.”

“Babe,” Deborah said in a forced sugary voice. She was trying to keep her cool. But she was the type of person who had everything planned out down to the minute. Getting off track was not something she could easily deal with. It gave her anxiety to just think about falling behind schedule or failing to do everything on her to-do list that needed to be done. “If you knew you needed the suit tonight, why did you wait until the last minute?”

“I know, I know. I need to handle my business more.” Lynox was only saying what he knew his wife was about to say. He agreed that he needed to do better when it came to handling his affairs and staying organized. But no matter how hard he tried, he’d never measure up to Deborah, who was the queen of taking care of business and being organized.

Deborah sighed. She knew it was useless to have this conversation with her husband. Regardless of what was said, she’d end up doing whatever it was he’d asked her to do, anyhow. “Leave the ticket. Even though Mr. Chong knows us by name and face, he does not deviate from his wife’s rule about not giving folks their items unless they produce a ticket,” Deborah said. “Wish more men would listen to their wives.” Deborah cleared her throat and screwed the lid back on the Noxzema.

“Point taken,” Lynox said, exiting the closet.

“Good.” Deborah rolled her eyes and began to rinse the white facial cleanser off her face.

“You’re so cute when you’re mad.” Lynox walked over and hit Deborah on the butt. “Can I get some before I go?” he whispered in her ear.

“Two seconds ago I would have said yes, but now in the time it takes to give you some, I have to go to the dry cleaners.” Deborah was going to make sure Lynox regretted the day he asked her to run that errand for him, especially as much as that boy loved him some sex with his wife. Sometimes he’d write sex scenes in his books that were so hot and heavy, he’d have to seek out his wife to take care of the desires that had arisen in him.

Deborah didn’t complain, not out loud, anyway. But usually her day was so full and busy that she barely had energy to snore, let alone perform her wifely duties. She could so relate to that scene in the movie Sex and the City where the redhead’s husband wanted to change positions in the middle of sex, and she told him, “Let’s just get it over with.” It was like that sometimes.

Men didn’t realize that, yeah, they might work hard at their career, but usually women worked hard at their career and at taking care of the family. Moms were usually the ones at the parent-teacher conferences and PTO meetings. Moms were usually the ones who volunteered for school field trips. Moms were usually the ones who had to take the kids to some kind of practice and pick them up or even sit there to cheer the kids on. Moms usually did the cooking, the cleaning, and the homework. Dressed the kids, did the kids’ hair, and everything else. And on top of that, the mom still had her own career and work to do. Then, when all that was said and done, she was supposed to have the energy to work in the bed too. It was hard to muster up the strength sometimes.

“It will take only five minutes,” Lynox said seductively, nibbling on her earlobe.

“With the baby, it will take me at least a half hour,” Deborah said. “The dry you use cleaners may only be a five-minute drive from here, but you have to take into consideration that I have to get the baby all packed up. I have to get him buckled into the car. I have to drive to the cleaners. I have to get him unbuckled and out the car, and then I have to go into the cleaners, get your clothes, and go back and buckle the baby again. Drive home, then unbuckle the baby yet again. So you see how much easier it would be for you, all by yourself, to go pick up the dry-cleaning, versus me going through all those steps to do it?” Deborah then breathed, because she’d managed to say all of that in one breath.

Lynox looked into his wife’s eyes through the mirror. He no longer had lust in his eyes. “I meant it would take only five minutes for me to make love to you, but never mind.” Lynox removed his hands from Deborah, then exited the bathroom with his head held low.

Deborah threw her head back and let out a quiet “Ugh.” Why did he have to go and mess up her mood? Now not only was she uptight about breaking her day up to run the errand, but she was also feeling as if she was letting her husband down. Her superwoman cape had her initials engraved on it. Not living up to the meaning of the cape meant that she was a failure. She was expected to do it all, so she had to do what was expected. She’d be feeling vexed all day long if she didn’t. That would take away the productivity from Deborah’s day. It would stifle her creativity. She’d be too focused on what she hadn’t accomplished, versus what she could accomplish.

Deborah wiped the last of the Noxzema off with her facecloth. She then picked up a tea towel and pat her face dry. She looked at herself in the mirror and said, “Well, superwoman, duty calls.” With that, she slipped out of her robe, revealing the matching nightie underneath it. She then exited the bathroom, met Lynox in the bedroom, where he was getting dressed, then proceeded to get it over with.

***

Deborah was on cloud nine as she stood among some of the literary industry greats. She’d spotted another local agent, Joylynn M. Ross. She was chatting it up with Dr. Maxine Thompson, one of the best book doctors in the business, hailing all the way from sunny California. That woman could take the most dreadful book and turn it into a masterpiece. Author Brandi Johnson was there, Tysha, Author Maurice “First” Tonia, Vanessa Miller, Colette Harrell, and the one and only Nikita Lynnette Nichols, who hailed from Chi-Town. Deborah thought she was going to have a literary orgasm, she was so star struck. But what really blew her mind was that everyone she looked up to seemed equally pleased to meet her.

“Your reputation truly precedes you,” Dr. Thompson said to Deborah after Deborah introduced herself to the legendary editor. She had figured that instead of staring at Dr. Thompson from across the room like a crazed fan or waiting for someone else to introduce them, she’d take it upon herself to make the introduction.

“The same goes for you,” Deborah replied. “It’s an honor, Dr. Thompson.” She nodded.

“Please, call me Maxine.”

“Honey, I see you met the woman who almost stole your husband,” Lynox said, approaching Deborah and wrapping his hand around her waist.

“Pardon me?” Deborah said, a little caught off guard by her husband’s comment.

“Well, if you hadn’t agreed to take on my project, Dr. Thompson was next on my list to query.” Lynox winked at Dr. Thompson.

Deborah relaxed, and Dr. Thompson blushed.

“I’m jealous,” Dr. Thompson said to Deborah. “Not only did you land one of the top-selling male African American authors in the business, but you got him to put a ring on it too.”

“Pow,” Deborah said, holding her hand up for her diamond wedding set to be admired.

The three laughed.

“I am honored that I was at least second on your list,” Dr. Thompson said to Lynox. “But I can most certainly understand why Mrs. Chase here was your first.”

After a few more words were exchanged by the trio, everyone’s attention turned toward the clanging sound coming from the wide carpeted staircase at the center of the Laroques’ great room, the place in which the event was being held.

The seven-thousand-square-foot home in New Albany, a suburb of Columbus, Ohio’s capital city, was one to be envied. Upon entering the home through the dark orange–stained Asian double doors, guests were greeted by a huge foyer that was the size of a living room in the average home. For this particular night, a makeshift coat check had been situated to the right of the foyer, while an open bar had been set up to the left. The center area had been left open to provide space for all the guests. After making the trek across the shiny hardwood floors, the guests were swallowed up by the vaulted-ceiling great room. Lynox had been to book events in hotel ballrooms that were no larger than the Laroques’ great room.

Tonight’s color scheme was a beautiful, bright, and vibrant blend of turquoise, royal purple, and silver. The silver chandelier that hung at the entrance to the great room looked as though it had been installed specifically for the celebration. Long, colorful strings attached to the balloons hanging in the air just below the ceiling tickled the tops of the taller guests’ heads. There was a sitting area smack in the middle of the room. There was a total of four love seats and couches arranged around an oblong table with a fitted turquoise tablecloth on it. The centerpiece was a tall vase filled with marbles and stones that matched the color scheme.

Servers carried around trays of Reo’s favorite appetizers, and back in the left corner of the room was a table with a huge cake with a replica of Reo’s latest book cover on it. A banner that read congratulations hung overhead, and more balloons were anchored to the table. There were about ten tall, round tables around the room for guests to stand at and converse. The only chairs were the ones that had been placed in the right rear corner of the room. There were about twenty-five chairs before a podium with a microphone. The place looked spectacular. It was celebratory, yet chic. And to top things off, a live band had set up and was playing in the upper balcony that overlooked the great room.

“Can I have your attention everyone?”

All eyes went on Reo’s lovely wife, Klarke, as the band played its last note. She stood on the second step of the staircase, with a glass of champagne in one hand and a fork in the other. She’d clanked the fork against the glass to get everyone’s attention. She stood and waited with patience and poise as the chatter quieted down and guests began to migrate over to where she was standing.

“Let’s give it up for our live entertainment.” She looked upward and pointed her hand toward the balcony. “George Bostic and the Garment of Praise, all the way from Toledo, Ohio, ladies and gentlemen.”

Members of the neo soul group took their bows during the applause, and then all the attention went back to Klarke. It was probably safe to say, though, that some eyes had never left her.

She was a bombshell. Since she looked not a day over thirty-five, no one would even believe she was closer to fifty. Originally from Toledo, Ohio, but having recently moved from the state of Nevada, Klarke now made New Albany her home with her husband and his sixteen-year-old daughter from a previous relationship. Klarke had two adult children of her own from a previous relationship. The two shared a son together, but he was out of state, attending college on a full academic scholarship.

“Tonight we celebrate fifteen years and the fifteenth book release of the wonderfully talented, sexy, amazing, and most creative man I’ve ever met on the face of the earth.”

Guests laughed when they spotted Reo signaling with his hand for Klarke to keep the compliments coming.

“I’ll stop there, because this could get too personal.” Klarke winked at her husband, and oohs and aahs filled the room as some fellows elbowed one another and winked at the message behind the words of the wife of the guest of honor. “But if any of you have ever picked up a copy of one of his books, you know that he is a master at what he does and truly deserves to be celebrated.”

Applause halted Klarke’s words. Once it died down, she continued.

“And tonight that is exactly what we are here to do. Not only to celebrate my husband and his books, but also to celebrate the release of his fifteenth book. Is that crazy or what?”

Once again there was applause.

“So without further ado,” Klarke said, “I present to you the one, the only national, international, and New York Times bestselling author Reo Laroque.”

There was thunderous applause as Reo hugged his wife and planted a sensual kiss on her lips, all while looking her in the eyes. Just that short interaction between Reo and Klarke told a story. One could see the struggle, the fight, the pain, and the sacrifice they’d been through to be together. A novella had just been told, all in a touch, all in a look, all in a kiss.

Once Reo was able to tear his eyes away from his wife, he addressed the crowd. “If you all don’t mind following me over to the podium with the mic,” Reo said, “I’d truly appreciate it. I don’t want to lose my voice and not be able to give a reading from my work tonight.” Reo led the way as the crowd migrated to the chairs that sat in front of the podium.

He then stepped up to the mic. “First off, I want to thank God for so much more than this night,” Reo began. “I want to thank Him for my beautiful wife, whose catering and event-planning company is actually responsible for the decorations, the food, and everything.” Reo raised both arms and turned his upper body from left to right. “Taylor Made Event Planning. Go to their Web site and book them for your next event.”

Everyone chuckled at the plug Reo was giving his wife’s company.

Klarke gave him a thumbs-up, winked, and then mouthed, “Way to go, honey.”

“But seriously,” Reo continued, “tonight would not have been possible without my wife and children. They are truly the motivation behind my doing what I do.”

Reo shared a few more acknowledgments before he told his guests a little bit about his new title and then read a brief excerpt from it. His written words were as captivating and engulfing when read out loud as they were on paper. Afterward, he spent the next hour at the book table, autographing copies while the band continued to play its mellow tunes. By the time he was finished, both Deborah and Lynox were about ready to head home. Actually, they’d been ready about twenty minutes ago, but they didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye to the guest of honor.

“Well, Reo, my man, it’s been real,” Lynox said as he and Deborah approached Reo. Klarke was by his side. “Congratulations on all your success. It’s well deserved.”

Reo pulled Lynox in for a manly hug. “Brother, I appreciate it, and that’s such a compliment coming from you.”

“Aw, man, go on with that,” Lynox said, shooing off Reo’s compliment with his hand.

“I’m serious. I was thinking, and we don’t have to go all into it right now, but maybe you and I can work on a book together. You know, a joint collaboration or something.”

Lynox practically had to pick his jaw up off the floor. Never could he have imagined in a million years Reo Laroque wanting to share space on a book cover with him. Lynox was indeed at the top of his game in the book business, but Reo was the trailblazer.

“Wow, honey. That’s awesome,” Deborah said to Lynox, resting her hand on his shoulder. She knew how much her husband admired Reo and how hearing those words must have made him feel.

Lynox was still speechless. His mouth hung open, but no words came out. He stood there, slightly shaking his head in disbelief. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything right now, anyway,” Reo said. “Just think about it.”

“I’m in awe myself,” Klarke admitted. “So many writers have come to my husband, wanting him to participate in this anthology or that project with some other author. He’s always declined. Now here he is, the one asking someone else to do what he wouldn’t do.”

“That’s because when you get in the ring with someone,” Reo said, “you want to make sure they are of your same caliber. In Lynox’s case, working with him would challenge me as a writer. I’d have to try to keep up with him.” He laughed.

“I must say I’m honored,” Lynox said. “I don’t have to think about it. It was an immediate yes from the moment you asked. It’s just that the word was stuck in my throat.”

The foursome chuckled.

“I’ll get with my agent,” Reo said.

“And your agent can get with mine,” Lynox said, turning to Deborah, who, of course, was Lynox’s literary agent.

“And we’ll hash it out with the publishers,” Deborah said, chiming in.

“Good enough,” Reo agreed. He looked at Deborah. “Thanks, you guys, so much for coming. It was a pleasure having you here, and I look forward to working with you.” He turned to Lynox at this point and added, “With both of you.”

“Same here,” Lynox said. He shook Reo’s hand.

“And, Deborah, since our men will be working together, perhaps that will give us some time to hang out,” Klarke said.

“I’d love that.” Deborah didn’t really have a lot of girlfriends. Outside of church, she didn’t associate with any other females. She had never imagined making new friends at this point in her life, but Klarke really seemed like cool people and like someone who would be nice to hang out with. So Deborah figured, Why not take her up on the offer? If nothing else, perhaps Klarke could give her some tips on how to lose the last ten pounds of baby weight she’d been struggling to shed. As tight as Klarke’s body was, she had to be doing some type of exercise and/or diet regimen. “Sounds like a plan to me,” Deborah added.

“I’m so glad my idol decided to give up the fast life in Nevada to move back to the Midwest,” Lynox said, patting Reo on his shoulder.

“And it’s good to be back home, my brotha,” Reo said, giving Lynox some dap.

“Pardon me,” a man with a camera interrupted. “Can I get a picture of the two of you together over by the podium?” He looked from Reo to Lynox.

Lynox looked at Reo. “Hey, this is all about you, but I’m game if you are.”

“Let’s do this. The two hottest male authors in the game right now, if we don’t count that darn Carl Weber. This is a once-in-a-lifetime photo op.”

“You know it,” Reo agreed.

Lynox turned to Deborah. “This will be real quick, hon, and then we can head out. Okay?” In his excitement, Lynox didn’t even wait on a reply.

The two men gave each other a brotherly handshake and then headed off, with the cameraman leading the way.

“Modest, aren’t they?” Klarke joked as she and Deborah stared at them as they walked away. She then turned to face Deborah. “I meant what I said about us getting together. Now, I’m not one to simply talk about connecting. I really want to hang out and do some girl stuff. I know you have little ones, but I don’t want to hear one thing about not having a sitter. My sixteen-year-old loves kids and babysits for everyone in the neighbor. She’s raising money to pay for her driving lessons.”

Deborah shot Klarke a puzzled look.

Klarke didn’t even have to ask Deborah why she was looking like that. It wasn’t a first. “Yes, honey. My money is my money. My husband’s money is his money . . . not our children’s. The only thing the law says we have to provide them is food, clothing, and a roof over their heads. I’m sorry, but both Reo and I have worked hard to get where we are in life. And even though we could easily write a check to cover the cost of the driving classes, I think we are serving our child better by letting her work for it.”

Deborah put her hands up in defense. “Trust me. You do not have to explain a thing to me. I was watching one of those reality wife shows, and a woman’s child was about to go off to college, and she didn’t even know how to do a load of laundry. Really? Where they do that at?”

“In Beverly Hills, apparently,” Klarke said, rolling her eyes. “I saw that episode too. But we can’t lump them all together. That one other wife who has a really rich husband in the music industry . . . Remember that she helped set her daughter up in her very first apartment, but from thereafter, the daughter had to take care of herself?”

“Yes. And it was in New York, of all places. That’s one of the most expensive places to live.”

“But we could die tomorrow, and then what are our babies going to do if they are dependent on us?”

“Like I said, I completely get it.”

“So, how about you contribute to my daughter’s driver’s education fund by allowing her to watch your little ones while we go out for coffee or something?”

“You know, my youngest baby really is just a baby,” Deborah said. “Only a little over three months.”

Klarke looked Deborah up and down from head to toe. “Girl, you just dropped a load and already looking snatched? All right now!”

“Thank you,” Deborah said. She truly did appreciate the compliment but knew that if she didn’t have on those Spanx, there was no way Klarke would be saying something like that to her. She had to admit that tonight she was snatched in her size eight clothes. But since having Tatum, getting back into her size eights had been a struggle. She could zip up her size eight jeans only after ten minutes of tucking all her extra skin down into them. Deborah knew firsthand that a size eight in clothes and a size eight buck naked were two very different visuals.

In her clothing, Deborah could pull it off. She knew how to stand with her neck straight, her shoulders up, and how to suck her gut in. Then there were the Spanx and the waist trainers, which played a huge role in her appearance as well. But once she came out of all her clothes and let it all hang out . . . and she actually breathed . . . it was a sight to behold.

A size eight at age forty wasn’t the same as a size eight at thirty. And the extra skin, which wouldn’t go away no matter how many crunches she did, really messed with her self-esteem. If only she wasn’t afraid to go under the knife, she’d get a tummy tuck in a heartbeat. This extra skin wasn’t anything liposuction could fix. It needed to be cut off. She couldn’t wear Spanx twenty-four hours a day, and what woman didn’t want to feel good about herself twenty-four hours a day? Oh, well, at least at this party, among all these beautiful women, even the belle of the ball was giving Deborah her props. Apparently, not only was Deborah good at hiding how she really felt, but she was also good at hiding how her body really looked.

“You are welcome,” Klarke said. “But, anyway, my daughter has a partner who helps her out with babysitting, so your baby will be fine.” Klarke leaned in and whispered, “Shelia, our house manager, does a wonderful job with kids too.”

“House manager?” Deborah said to the woman making her daughter earn her own money to pay for driver’s education.

“That’s a fancy term for housekeeper.”

The women laughed.

Deborah shook her head. “Spoil the mother, not the child, huh?”

“Hey, I said our kids need to learn how to take care of themselves. But Mommy, on the other hand, has paid her dues.” Klarke held her hand up, and Deborah gave her a high five.

“I am not mad at you,” Deborah said. “Sometimes I feel like I need help.”

“Then get you some. Don’t be ashamed to get some help, girlfriend. It doesn’t make you any less of a wife or any less of a mother. We women are always trying to be superwoman and do it all. Take care of the house, take care of the kids, the man, and all while working jobs ourselves.”

“I promise you that you just stole the words that were in my head this morning,” Deborah said, loving the fact that this sista could relate. “God forbid you work from home, like I do,” Deborah continued. “Folks think you can stop whatever you are doing to take them to the store, to do this, or to do that.”

“Right. If you were clocking in at a nine-to-five, would folks really expect you to leave your desk and go ask your boss if you can take them to go drop their car off at the mechanic?”

“Say that again. I’ve been editing and agenting for years, and some folks still can’t grasp that what I do is my job and not a hobby.”

“Still doesn’t keep us from stopping in the middle of our work to look out for somebody else, though,” Klarke said. “We’re so worried about others’ expectations of us, on top of the ones we place on ourselves.”

Just thinking about those instances when she was trying to meet everyone else’s expectations on top of her own made Deborah begin to hyperventilate slightly. “It becomes so overwhelming sometimes.” She stared off into space, taking deep breaths and then letting them out.

“Calm down.” Klarke laughed, then rested her hand on Deborah’s shoulder. “You look like you are about to go crazy just thinking about it.” Klarke’s laughter faded as she raised an eyebrow, partly wondering if Deborah was okay or was pulling a Fred Sanford act.

Deborah noticed the expression on Klarke’s face and quickly regained her composure. She began to laugh it off. “I’m only playing. You know how it is.” Deborah was embarrassed that she’d allowed herself to get all riled up like that. If only she and Lynox had left when she’d wanted to, she wouldn’t be concerned about being exposed now. But no. Lynox had to go be Hollywood and smile for the camera.

Deborah anxiously began to look around for Lynox. She spotted him giving the photographer his business card. The photographer must have requested it so that he would get the spelling of Lynox’s name correct when he published the photo. “Well, it looks like they’re wrapping up.” She turned back to Klarke. “Again, thank you so much for having us.”

“You are welcome.” Deborah went to pull away, but Klarke still had a nice grip on her hand. “Next week. I mean it. I’m going to text you the day and time for us to get together.” She released Deborah’s hand. “And from the looks of things, you need some downtime, anyway, to relax.” She shot Deborah a knowing look. But what exactly did she know?

Deborah paused before speaking. “What do you mean?” Even though it wasn’t her intent to sound defensive, she did.

Klarke was slightly taken aback by Deborah’s sudden shift in demeanor. Just a second ago they were vibing and relating. Now Deborah was practically snapping her head off. “Well, nothing. I just—”

“Honey, you ready?” Lynox interrupted, putting his arm around Deborah’s shoulders.

She didn’t realize it when she wormed out of his embrace. “Yes, sure. I’ll go get our coats from the coat check.” Deborah stalked off.

Lynox glanced over at Klarke with a puzzled look on his face. “Everything okay?”

Klarke shrugged, her eyelids fluttering in confusion. “Yeah, as far as I know.”

Since Klarke was shrugging it off, so was Lynox. He complimented Klarke on such a lovely evening before he went after his wife. Hopefully, on the drive home she’d tell him what was going on. It didn’t matter what her mouth said. By the way she’d reacted, it was clear that something was wrong. And if he was being honest with himself, something had been wrong for the past month or so. The challenge would be figuring out how to make it right.