Chapter 5
“I’m about to put it on!” I greeted the camera with my signature opening.
“Get ready with me, I’m heading to the airport.
The thing about traveling is that you must combine comfort with style.
You never know who you might run into.” I pursed my lips.
“Believe me. Six or so years ago, after some late-night fun, my—ahem— friend and I popped into the store on the way home and ran into my supervisor at the time.” I leaned into the camera.
“And how was she gonna judge me if she was out at four o’clock in the morning, too?
Who and what I did off the clock was none of her business. ”
I grabbed my purple jumpsuit with the belted waist.
“This is a Bowen original. I love the way this color complements my skin,” I continued, holding it in front of the camera.
“And it is so comfortable. I love the way this spandex blend stretches over my curves but still offers support. The last time I wore this, I was approached by a man on his way to Tokyo for business and complimented by a mom wrangling two young kids fresh off a cross-country flight.” I shook the garment off the rack. “This ’fit is versatile…”
By the time I finished getting dressed, I’d highlighted all the reasons I loved it and why it was the perfect travel outfit.
Even though Bowen was literally paying me to say it, I truly loved their pieces.
On the way to the airport, I sat in the back of the taxi, editing the video.
And by the time I took a seat at the airport bar, I had scheduled the video to be posted over my social media accounts.
That one video paid my rent for the month.
My smile grew. Life is good.
“I just had to let you know how beautiful you are,” a middle-aged man with gray streaks in his hair told me from the barstool next to me.
“Thank you,” I responded.
“Let me buy you a drink.” He lifted his hand in the air and gestured to the bartender. “What would you like?”
“Um…” I noticed someone down the bar drinking something that looked pretty. “That looks good,” I told him, pointing to the drink.
The man ordered it and then asked for his tab. “So where are you headed?”
“New York. And you?”
“Chicago. Headed back home to the wife and kids.” He winked at me. “You look just like my wife when she was your age.” He grabbed his briefcase and duffle bag. “Take care of yourself.”
I nodded in his direction. “You, too.”
A few seconds passed before I saw my free tropical drink being made.
The blue concoction with the purple flowers as an accent looked like it would taste good.
But I got it because it complemented my purple outfit.
As soon as the bartender placed the drink in front of me, I rigged my phone against a napkin dispenser and set the automatic timer.
“You want me to take it for you, shawty?” a man asked me, inviting himself to the empty barstool next to me.
“I think I got it,” I told him as I checked the photo and smiled. “Yeah, I got it.” My body turned to look at him. “But thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Your boyfriend isn’t going to kick my ass for sitting here, is he?”
I gave him a look. “Boyfriend?”
“That old man that was with you.” He pointed in the direction of the exit.
“Oh. Nah.”
“Well, either way, I’m glad you got your shot with your Blue Lagoon. Your thirty-dollar slushy.”
My brows furrowed at his mention of the cost. “Is that shade?”
“No, no, no. It’s an observation. You buying thirty-dollar drinks—”
“You seem obsessed with how much this drink costs.”
“I’m just trying to figure out who buys thirty-dollar drinks at the airport.”
I tilted my head and gave him a look. “If you can’t afford this drink, why do you think you can afford to go back and forth with me?”
His face contorted, and he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Who said I can’t afford it?”
I took a long sip. “The fact that you keep referencing the price is screaming that you can’t afford it.”
His jaw hardened. “I just figured if you were going to spend thirty dollars on something, it would be food.” He looked me up and down.
I let out a sarcastic laugh and took another sip. “Watch yourself.”
You…” He stopped, lifted his eyebrows, and then leaned back a little. “Wait, I know you from somewhere. You look mad familiar.”
I eyed the big man with the long locs and shook my head slowly. “Nah… I don’t think so.”
“Were you at Hamilton University the other night? At Dr. Reynolds’s lecture?”
“I was…” I said slowly.
“You almost ran into me and said watch yourself.”
My eyes widened as it clicked. “You were on your phone and not paying attention to where you were going.”
He pointed toward the exit. “And weren’t you with another man that night?”
“And?”
He narrowed his eyes and scoffed. “It’s just funny.”
“Why are you so worried about me and what I got going on?” I asked.
“Because it’s crazy how I ran into you twice and both times you were with somebody different.” His glare intensified. “I guess you put the eat in cheat.”
I put the straw to my lips. “You came over here talking to me, and now you’re taking shots at me.
” Smirking, I shook my head. “It’s clear you’re broke financially, spiritually, and intellectually, so I’m going to just cut to the chase.
You don’t have a chance with me. And I don’t want you to think it has anything to do with your little smart comment.
I want to be clear when I say you never had a chance. ”
He sneered. “I don’t date fat bitches. I don’t want your fat ass.”
“Oh, sweetie,” I said in a saccharine-sweet tone. “What you want doesn’t matter. Do you understand what I already told you? You were never eligible.”
He got off his stool in a huff. “Like I said, I don’t date fat bitches,” he muttered under his breath as he stormed away.
I smiled in disbelief. “Okay, twin!” I called behind him, watching his childbearing hips as he walked away. “Sir, you too are a fat bitch!”
He didn’t acknowledge what I’d said, but I lifted my drink in the air in honor of his departure.
“I like the way you handled him,” the bartender said, tucking her hair behind her ears.
She was chubby, with mousy brown hair. “I see idiots like that all the time when there’s bad weather and a major flight delay.
They come in here, get drunk, and make rude comments if I don’t give them any attention. It sucks.”
“I believe it. But what someone else thinks of you doesn’t define you,” I told her, finishing my drink. “Fat bitch is such a lazy insult. Like, where’s the creativity? And if that’s the worst thing someone can say about me, I’m living my life right.”
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right,” she said before tapping the bar. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I got off my stool and grabbed the handle to my bag. “I mean it. Fat is a descriptor, and bitch usually means you don’t take someone’s shit. Neither is a bad thing.”
“Roxy!” someone who looked like a manager yelled out.
The bartender whipped her head around, startled, and then looked back at me. “Thanks again,” she said before scurrying toward the woman who called out to her.
I made my way to my gate.
I’d never met any of the people I was meeting in Manhattan in person.
I talked to a handful of them on video calls over the years, and I would even consider a few of them friends.
The plan was to have fun, but ultimately, it was a work trip.
And since I wanted to grow my platform, I had business on my mind.
“Excuse me,” I said as I moved through a group of people crowding the boarding lines.
“They just called business class,” a man said in a curt tone, remaining in my way. “Just wait your turn.”
My eyebrows flew up as I stared at the back of his head. Oop! No, the fuck he didn’t.
“Yeah, that’s why I was trying to get by,” I snapped, walking around him from the other side.
“You’re in business class?” he reacted incredulously.
I didn’t bother to respond as I made my way toward the ticket agent. And after I scanned my boarding pass, I glanced back at the man who had something to say. With a smirk, I sauntered through the door to board my flight.
We were only in the sky for about an hour and a half, but when we landed in New York, I was excited.
As business focused as I’d been, the fact that I was linking with some other fashion content creators was cool.
And even though the meetings with different brands were definitely the highlight of the trip for me, I liked networking.
Party me tonight. Professional me tomorrow.
I checked into my hotel and immediately made my way to my room.
I avoided the bar area because I knew there would be people there.
I wanted to get ready before linking up with everyone at dinner.
Our itinerary started with a party bus picking us up for dinner at seven and then we were heading to some trendy new club.
The pictures, videos, and collabs were going to be content gold.
The last thing I needed was to get caught up in a long conversation and not have my look pulled together on time.
After taking a long hot shower, I had a hard time deciding between two outfits.
Ultimately, I decided to put on a gold sequin bodycon dress.
Typically reserved for special occasions and New Year’s Eve celebrations, the dress stood out and photographed well.
It fit my body like a glove and showed off my curves.
And if that wasn’t enough, when the lights hit me, I was going to be the main attraction.
“This is the one,” I murmured to myself, turning around in the mirror. “This is definitely the one.”
Pinning my hair with gold pins in a half-up, half-down style, I adorned myself with gold hoop earrings and gold bangles. My lips were slathered in red lipstick and my favorite perfume dusted my skin. The fire-engine-red pumps and the vintage black-and-gold bag from my mom completed my look.