That would be what I took away from Lola. All that bliss? Her supposedly happy, perfect marriage? It would be mine, and she wouldn’t be able to do shit about it because once he and I were together, there would be no turning back.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Just because I didn’t like Lola didn’t mean I didn’t like her money. Being her go-to girl and new best friend had many great perks, one of which was the shopping.
Lola was going to be flying in a private jet to New York City, where she would be meeting a designer who would be fitting her for a dress he custom-designed for her.
She insisted I come with her—well, me and my new coworker, Olivia. Olivia was only invited for work purposes. It was officially gala season, and Lola needed to be kept up-to-date on everything. She’d need to give immediate responses to questions certain donors had, and to stay in touch with Green Garden and the event planner about specifics. Olivia was the middleman.
Riding in a private jet was something I’d never thought I’d be able to do. It was a two-and-a-half hour flight, but I relished it, accepting the complimentary drinks and snacks and sitting next to a window, staring out of it, pretending I was in Lola’s shoes while she spoke to Olivia and Olivia typed away on her laptop.
We landed in no time, and a black car awaited us at the private airway, taking us straight to the bustling city. I’d never been to New York City before, but I’d heard many things about it. It was the city of dreams and wonder. The city where you could catch a cup of coffee on every corner. The city that never slept.
It was a dream for some to be surrounded by yellow taxis, fast cars, and steaming potholes, but a place this busy wasn’t meant for someone like me. I thought Miami was bad, but New York City was completely over the top.
The chauffeur parked in front of a boutique painted black and white and named Bobbi Sleek’s. I was out of the SUV first, and as I waited for Lola to give the driver instructions, I absorbed my surroundings and the city life around me.
Men and women were in a rush, as if late for the most important meetings in the world. Their eyes were laser-focused. They didn’t give a fuck that people were around them, in front of them, behind then. Some shouted for taxis, waving their hands in the air like maniacs, while others strolled with coffees in hand or shouted into cell phones.
It was the first week of August and there was a coolness in the morning air that we didn’t get in Florida around this time of year. I was glad Lola had suggested I bring one of her jackets from her closet, just in case it got cooler later on that night. I’d never been in her closet by myself, so to go in it alone was exhilarating.
She had a whole rackful of designer shoes, and don’t even get me started on the amount of clothes she had hanging neatly on hangers. Some of them still had price tags on them.
I’d grabbed a tan leather jacket from the coat and jacket rack, and as I slid my arms into it, it smelled like her perfume. I would keep it too. I was sure she wouldn’t miss it.
“All right. Come on, ladies.” Lola led the way to the boutique. “Bobbi is waiting for us.”
Air from the A/C poured out of the vents as we walked inside the boutique. The shop was full of thin mannequins in stunning dresses, each dress completely different from the next, with only small details that proved they were from the same designer, like the way the buttons were stitched on or how the sequins were patterned.
A light scent of jasmine and sandalwood was in the air, giving the boutique a sense of calm in comparison to the chaos outside its doors. Bubblelike chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the walls were painted a smooth ivory, and a song by Alicia Keys played softly from hidden speakers.
“Good morning, ladies!” A very tall, lanky man came into view, strolling between black mannequins and past the fitting rooms to our left. He had dark brown skin and a double nose piercing, a stud in one nostril and a hoop in the other.
“Bobbi!” Lola sang, meeting the man in the middle of the boutique.
I glanced at Olivia, who pressed her lips together and fought a smile. I did the same. Really, it was hard not to laugh at the encounter, but only because of Bobbi’s unusual look. He had a bold, neon-yellow afro. His jeans had many holes in them, and he had to have had on the oldest pair of white Chuck Taylors I’d ever seen, but that wasn’t the kicker. He wore a suit jacket as red as Lola’s lipstick.