22. Libby
“Are you sure you gave me the right address?” I say, holding the phone up to the building.
“Trust me, that’s the one,” Ronnie confirms.
“Ronnie, this is a dilapidated warehouse.”
“In the arts district,” he adds. “It’s basically city chic.”
I scowl at his video on the phone. “Libby, you said you’d do it. You already signed the contract.”
“Yeah, yeah. Hold on.” I walk over to my driver and instruct him to stay put until I return. I no longer trust that I made a good choice in accepting this gig.
“You’ll do great, Libby. You have the perfect look for this shoot.”
“And what look is that, Ronnie? Fuckable?”
He coughs on his coffee. “No. Exotic.”
“I’m a red head with freckles. What is exotic about that?”
“Just trust me,” he says exasperated. “And call me as soon as you’re done.”
“Fine,” I say to his face. “But you owe me a decent gig after this. I’m not going to be Libby the lingerie girl. You hear me?”
“You won’t be,” he croons. “This is just to get your foot in the door.”
As if the twenty plus other shoots I’ve done haven’t been to get my foot in the door. I’m done trying to get my foot in the fucking door. It’s time a give that stupid door a stiletto stomp.
“I’ll call you when I’m done,” I hang up, exasperated, when another call comes in.
Shit. I can’t talk right now. I silence the call just as I’m walking through the doors of the warehouse, hoping I don’t get trafficked once inside.
Kesley whistles as I thumb through some of the photos on my phone. “These are hot, Lib. Who would’ve thought you’d be a lingerie model?”
I take my phone back. “I’m not a lingerie model. I’m just a model, Kes.”
“Right, right. How very uneducated of me,” she smirks. “You should send those pictures to stranger. See what he says.”
So I told Kesley that stranger and I are officially hooking up. She is still totally unaware that stranger is Fergie. And I decided, I’ll need to keep it that way.
Nobody could ever know.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“What’s wrong?” she asks fixing her lipstick with a few smacks of her lips.
We’re about to head to yet another Heatwave charity event. This one is tackling the homeless situation in our city. And Michael’s church has stepped up to co-sponsor the event and help fundraise.
“Mrs. Ferguson will be there,” I tell her.
She drops her arm. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Weird that she’s interested in coming out to something involving Fergie’s team. She’s never come around, right?”
“Nope, not until she found out her church is a sponsor. Now she has to show her face, apparently.”
“That fucking sucks,” she says.
“Thank you, I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.”
Technically, I’m not the only one who thinks so. Because it was Michael that warned me about her impending presence.
“It’ll be fine. She can’t be that bad. You’ve done your part. You’ve stayed away from her boys. That’s all she’s ever wanted. As stupid and unwarranted as it was. She has nothing to stand on.”
Except that I’ve done the complete opposite of that. She just can’t know.
Kesley touches my arm gently as she goes to grab her clutch off my bed. She’s getting ready at my place tonight since Zane is busy getting things for the event.
“Just stay with me for the night and I’ll give you a reason to avoid her. As many reasons as you need.”
I smile softly at my friend. “Thanks, girl.”
“I’d shank a bitch for you,” she says holding out her pinky.
“Right in the kidney,” I add, taking it in mine and sealing it with a kiss.
I can always count on Kesley to make me feel better.
But two hours later, in the middle of a full ballroom, I’m not feeling so great. My leg is bouncing under the table and Kesley keeps reaching for my knee and stopping it. Only for me to pick up the bouncing again seconds later.
I’m a nervous wreck.
“I need a drink,” I announce backing my chair away from the table. Tonight’s ensemble is a simple navy floor length gown. My hair is pinned to one side. The rest is cascading in front of my right shoulder.
I’m alone at the bar in the back when I hear his voice, low and sultry, against my bare shoulder,“Hello, butterfly.”
I turn slightly to look at him. “Hey.”
Then I go back to giving him my back. Nobody can see us talking. Not tonight. Tonight of all night’s is off-limits for our little exchanges.
“What’s wrong, Lib?” He steps in front of me and leans against the bar casually watching me.
“Your family is here,” I say without looking at him. The bartender slides me my cosmo and I pass my card. Michael moves my card back toward me and he offers his own.
“Ferguson. And leave it open please,” he tells the bartender. “Anything she wants, put it on my tab.”
The bartender nods his understanding and goes back to his register.
“I can take care of my own drinks,” I say to him, sipping, when really I just want to gulp it down.
“Just because you can,” he says, “doesn’t mean you should.” He reaches for my arm and I back away.
“Not here,” I warn him.
He looks around the ball room. In the middle is an open dance space surrounded by circular tables. Considering a church co-sponsored it’s a little weird that there’s a cash bar. But, if the Heatwave is involved, alcohol is almost always involved too.
His dad and older brother are chatting with some guys at their table.
“Anything for you, sir?” The bartender asks.
“I’ll just have a root beer,” Michael says.
“Trying to stay sober?” I’m sure he wants to be on his best behavior in front of his family.
“Since I plan to take you to bed later,” he says casually, “yes.”
Oh. Then I do actually gulp down the rest of my drink.
“Would you like another, ma’am?” The bartender asks.
I look at Michael who’s holding back his amusement.
“You know what,” I look at his nametag,“Chris… keep the cosmos coming.”
Michael eyes me over the rim of his glass of root beer.
“Do you see her yet?” I ask, not turning to face the crowd.
He scans the room behind me. “Not yet.”
“Great, waiting for the Wicked Witch of the West is worse than actually being around her. How does she have this kind of power?”
Michael’s face relaxes. “She’s not all bad.”
I scoff, “Says the apple of her eye.”
Chris hands me another drink and I don’t hesitate to take down half of it before I look at Michael again.
“She wants the best for her kids. Every mom does. She just has a weird way of showing it.”
“For someone that’s been on the receiving end of her wrath, you sure have a lot of grace for the woman,” I tell him.
“Well, who are we if we don’t try to have compassion on those that hurt us?”
“Ok, Jesus of Nazareth. Thank you for the sermon.”
He laughs and takes another sip of his drink.
“Mom, didn’t always have it easy. She was forced into life as a pastor’s wife at a very young age. It wasn’t what she signed up for. Dad didn’t become a pastor until after they were married. She fought it a lot, from what my dad’s told me. But she eventually accepted that if my dad was going to run a church then she’d need to step into the role. We all did.”
I nod. “I remember. I used to watch you and Jonah jumping into your dad’s gold jalopy in your little suits every Sunday. You wouldn’t be home until late.”
“We had bible study on Tuesdays. Youth group on Wednesdays. Worship services on Fridays and two services on Sunday,” he lists off.
“I used to hate Sundays,” I admit. “It always felt like we had to get our playtime in on Saturdays because I wouldn’t see you the rest of the week.”
“The life of a church family,” he says with a smile.
“Why do you seem so unaffected by it?”
“I mean, just because I don’t attend anymore doesn’t mean I’m not grateful for what I learned.”
“And what did you learn?” I ask. “Blind trust in an old book written by old men?”
He looks at me with softness in his eyes, “I learned to question everything.”
That’s not what I would’ve gathered.
“People can try to interpret things the best they can. They can try to teach you all the wisdom of the ages. But as a man, I’d need to decide for myself what I would choose to believe.”
The alcohol must be doing its part because I’m finally feeling relaxed. I lean on the bar right next to him. We both look out into the growing crowd.
“And what is it that you believe, Michael?”
He looks to his side and watches me. “I believe there’s always something new to learn. Things aren’t always as they seem.”
I know that’s right. The man standing next to me has surprised me the most. He’s a man of faith. And a man of dominance. Two things I would’ve thought were contradicting. But there he is, in the flesh.
I finish off my second cosmo just as his mother walks in through the double doors followed in by Lillian and another girl I’ve never seen.
“Oh god, there she is. You need to go,” I whisper to him.
He grins. “Fine, but I’ll see you later.”
He winks before he strolls back to his assigned table with his family.
Chris slides me another cosmo and I give him a nod of appreciation.