THREE
“YOU GOT ME ALL GONE. DON’T LET ME GO.” BEYONCE
PRESENT DAY
Nina had a burn on her wrist but one had to be in close proximity to notice it, especially since she kept it covered with the stack of jewelry that she wore on her right hand.
Two Van Cleef bracelets mixed in with David Yurman cable links, a Marcelle bangle, and a thin tennis bracelet that Javon bought her for Mother’s Day many years ago.
But when her anxiety got the best of her, she moved all those bracelets to the side and dug into the burn.
She scratched at a scab that didn’t exist because it was soothing in a way.
Nina turned around to confirm that she’d heard her assistant correctly.
“Jio’s girlfriend?” she whispered.
Of course, her assistant knew who Jio was. She signed a non-disclosure agreement so tight that she had to turn her location off when she came to her house to handle any personal errands. Her boss was THEE Nina Marcelle.
Nina was Miranda from The Devil Wears Prada in the flesh.
Fashion. Real Estate. Philanthropy. Arts and Culture Affairs.
Nina represented women from all walks of life.
She wore many different hats. It wasn’t anything that she hadn’t done or couldn’t do.
She was far from a regular chick. She was a big deal and baby she knew it.
“That’s what she said. I can have security vet her. I did take a peek at the address on her driver’s license. The zip code is reputable.”
Nina’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“She looks… rich… like you.” Daiya didn’t mean to rub it in, but she wanted to prepare Nina, although it wasn’t necessary because unfortunately, she knew exactly who the bitch was.
“She probably is, he had great taste.”
Nina didn’t look like what she’d been through and she never would.
If there was a face attached to the saying, “We Wear The Mask….” Her profile would be greatly plastered next to the poster.
She applied a fresh coat of Marcelle lipstick.
The plum cherry color was her favorite to wear around the office.
“She’s in the conference room?”
“No, in the waiting area still.”
“You can take her to the conference room. I’m coming in two seconds.”
Nina turned around and went to the break room to get a glass of water.
She wanted a drink and probably really needed one but today was supposed to be a fresh start.
She refused to allow grief to be an excuse to backslide into bad habits.
She’d done enough drinking over the past few weeks and it was time to dial it back.
She thought about calling Javon to see if maybe he would reconsider his lie that he’d told on the day of his father’s funeral.
Jio and Javon were close and not just your typical father and son close, but they were truly best buds. Jio didn’t trust many, and the older he got and more successful he grew, the tighter his circle became and the more he reclused.
Kadeer and Darrow probably knew who the chick was too, but Javon would know more about her than anyone.
She was a big girl and could handle this.
It’d been many years since a woman had the balls to come to her about HER man. But hey, it wouldn’t be the first time and she prayed that it was the last. Jio was gone and may the good Lord rest his sweet soul.
“If I could kick your ass I would,” she said, looking to the ceiling. Nina knew he was up there shitting bricks.
Jio was good at keeping his ‘extracurricular activities’ far away from her and that’s how she preferred it.
She took her time walking to the conference room and asked God to be with her. Nina had come a long way from being scared to check whoever about whatever and she prayed that it didn’t go there.
The conference room door opened and she stepped in.
“Miss Marcelle,” her assistant announced cautiously, “Carrington Strozier.”
She was a cute girl, but Jio wouldn’t have dated her otherwise. Nina recognized her beauty back at the funeral.
Men like Jio never cheated down.
Carrington stood tall in a cream wool coat with sleek dark hair cascading over one shoulder, her makeup soft but intentional. There was something refined about her. Up close, she could tell that she’d been around her kind before.
“You can go,” Nina said calmly to her assistant.
The door shut behind them.
Silence settled instantly.
Carrington studied Nina first.
Not rudely but carefully.
Like she was trying to connect the woman standing in front of her to the ghost of the man they both knew.
Nina refused to give her anything. She wouldn’t be able to find a hint of insecurity, curiosity, or emotion on her face.
She walked toward the drink station near the wall and poured a cup of coffee.
“You have ten minutes,” Nina stated coldly.
“That’s very corporate of you.”
Nina stirred cream into her coffee slowly. “And popping up at my office weeks after a funeral is very what exactly?”
Nina’s comment made her chuckle.
Jio liked direct women, which irritated Nina more than it should have.
Carrington removed her coat gracefully before taking a seat at the long conference table like she’d been there before.
“I know who you are,” Carrington said finally.
Nina sat down across from her, crossing her legs elegantly. “Who doesn’t?” She popped her shit proudly. Nina Marcelle was a household name and nothing, but hard work and years of sacrifice had earned her the right. She wasn’t being arrogant, she was simply stating a known fact.
The same way people knew the president or could identify a luxury fashion house by its logo, people knew Nina Marcelle.
Her face had been on the covers of Forbes, Fortune, Vogue and Essence, more times than she cared to count.
Universities taught business courses centered around the Marcelle succession plan after she'd transformed a century-old family company into one of the most respected luxury conglomerates in the world. MBA students debated her decisions in classrooms she’d never stepped foot in.
There wasn’t a continent she hadn’t visited or a stage she hadn’t spoken on.
The waiting list to hear her speak stretched months in advance, and corporations routinely offered seven figures for an hour of her time. Most were politely declined because money had stopped impressing Nina decades ago.
Time and her family were the only currency she protected.
People often assumed success looked glamorous, but they didn’t see the security briefings every morning or the handwritten notes from women thanking her for paying off their student loans.
The young woman sitting across from her had some nerve coming to her place of business.
Nina didn’t have time for this today. Every minute on her calendar was accounted for.
After she finished the therapy session that was interrupted by this impromptu visit, she was expected at a virtual meeting with heads of state to discuss expanding the Marcelle Foundation's maternal health initiative into three additional countries. Lunch was scheduled with the editors of one of the nation’s largest publishing houses regarding her upcoming memoir, a project she’d reluctantly agreed to after years of saying no.
The afternoon included reviewing finalists for the Marcelle Fellowship, an annual program that had already produced dozens of CEOs, filmmakers, physicians, and elected officials from communities that had historically been overlooked.
Her influence was heavy. She had an influx of requests to fund hospitals, schools, museums, documentaries, and so much more.
It was a quiet burden of knowing that a single endorsement from Nina Marcelle could sell out a product before sunset...
or bankrupt a competitor by the end of the week.
Her influence was heavier than her network, yet she seemed to carry both with remarkable grace.
“I know you know who I am,” she said with confidence.
Nina took a sip of coffee. “Should I?” she said evenly with one brow lifted.
Carrington leaned back. “There’s no reason to do that, I’m not here to embarrass you.”
Nina held back a snort. Embarrass me? Girl please, she thought.
At this point in life, Nina had survived public scandals, family humiliation, federal investigations attached to Jio’s name, gossip blogs, social climbers, side chicks, fake friends, and women who thought sleeping with wealthy men made them important.
This broad surely wasn’t about to shake the table.
She chose her battles wisely when necessary. Jio taught her that.
“Please inform me of where I would possibly know you from outside of your connection to the deceased.”
Her tone was expected.
Jio didn’t mention her often. It was a respect thing, and ever so often, he would feel chummy enough to yap with her. He wasn’t into pillow talking and he checked her on that very, very early in the beginning of whatever they had going on.
“Nina was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and then I fucked around and made that bitch rose gold. I made her worse. She was already stuck up. I turned her heart cold, but it made her a boss on the flip side, so a win is a win.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her balls got bigger.”
She climbed on top of him slowly and kissed between his brows and his nose.
“I want big balls too baby.”
So many precious memories had been crossing her mind since her lover took his last breath. She missed him dearly and she knew that the woman across from her did too. Was that the reason she came up here looking crazy? No.
But she couldn’t help but be surprised.
“You say that very casually.”
“You do know that I’m in my fifties, right? I don’t play lil’ girl games.” Nina checked her.
The room went quiet again and all they heard were the raindrops hitting the window.
Carrington folded her hands neatly atop the table. “I loved him.”
Nina looked at her for the first time… like… she sincerely observed her until she detected the same emotion she’d been suffering with lately.
Grief.
Real fuckin’ pain and sorrow.
Sadly, for whatever reason, it tempered Nina… just a little.
But not enough to cut her some slack.