Chapter 2 #3
Demi spoke up. “Everybody ain’t got to like it. Respect is mandatory, or you can turn in them resignation papers and get the fuck moving. The people I love are to be kept safe. Charlie is to be kept safe. I expect the same loyalty you give me to extend to her.”
“That don’t even need to be said. It’s already done,” Day stated.
“Just like that, huh?” Stassi challenged, staring directly at Day.
“For some of us, it’s straight like that.
You not really a part of this whole dynamic.
I know you’re a stranger at the table. I don’t know how they move where you’re from, but we’re a family.
We take care of one another. Dynasty is more than a record label.
We’ve all been here since day one–” The girl was annoying, condescending, and making it be known that Stassi wasn’t a part of the “family.” Hell, Stassi questioned if Charlie was even welcomed.
“Fuck all that,” Day interrupted the girl, focusing on Stassi, commanding her.
She felt his stare pass straight through her to a deeper level, to her soul.
The intensity of his glower gave her chills.
Stassi was forced to look away when the girl beside Day frowned.
“Everybody at this table is protected.” Stassi shook her head.
“Anastassia…” She looked at Day once more.
He had never called her by her full name, and the way he said it at this moment sounded like an order of submission.
Stop doubting him. Stop testing him. The rules were unspoken but clear as she stared in his eyes across the table.
“Everybody,” he repeated. She felt Charlie staring a hole through the side of her face, but she couldn’t disconnect from Day.
“So, Charlie’s sister,” the woman beside Day said.
“Stassi,” Charlie said. “Her name is Stassi.”
“Stassi it is then,” the woman continued. “What do you do? We’re all in the business, but I can’t say I’ve seen you around. Must be nice to have a sister that’s about to blow up. You get the perks of her newfound fame. We’re working hard to make sure her debut doesn’t disappoint.”
“We?” Stassi questioned. Who is this bitch?
“Mira is a publicist for the label,” Charlie informed. “And my sister owns her own event planning firm.”
It was a stretch. Charlie was flexing. Stassi was currently an unemployed-ass bitch wondering how to afford a lifestyle she had indulged in prematurely.
“Oh!” Mira replied. “Have you done any events I might know? I might have some business for you.”
Stassi felt like she was being put on the spot. This was the most nice-nasty conversation she had ever indulged in. After losing her job hours ago, Stassi was circling the drain. She didn’t feel like listing accomplishments on a day that she felt like a failure.
“I partnered with a friend to plan the Okafor baby shower and gender reveal. We’ve done a few weddings and…”
“Oh, you’re like a personal planner. Like kids’ birthdays and stuff. I think those little balloon walls are so cute. An uber economic way to create an Instagram-able experience. Good for you.” Mira’s compliment was laced in venom.
Stassi scoffed and gave up her phoniest smile. This bitch got me fucked up.
“She’s doing the next company showcase,” Day interjected.
“Since when? Why wasn’t I consulted? Who made that decision?”
Day had grown disinterested in the conversation before it even began. “The boss,” he said simply as he stood from his seat. “We got to take this call, bro,” he said, directing his attention to Demi.
They excused themselves as the ladies, and the rest of the gentlemen at the table continued their meal.
“I promise you I want to snatch this bitch across the table,” Stassi whispered to Charlie.
“You and me both,” Charlie replied.
Stassi could barely make it through the first course before excusing herself for the bathroom. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Charlie as she hurried away from the table. She made sure to grab her bag in case she built up the nerve to leave.
She bypassed the guest bathroom and took the stairs to the second floor.
She just needed a little privacy. She hated to let another woman see her sweat, but she wasn’t in the best state of mind to match wits with mean girls tonight.
She found the upstairs guest bath and slipped inside, sighing in relief as soon as she closed the door.
The tears started when she looked at herself in the mirror.
She looked the part. She was good at faking it.
With designers she could barely pronounce on her back, she screamed success, but she was a fraud.
She was barely treading water, and trying to keep up with the Jones at this dinner party was exhausting. A knock at the door startled her.
“I’ll be right out,” she called as she wiped her tears with shaky hands.
She dapped her eyes with a tissue and fanned them before pulling open the door.
Day stood, leaning against the frame.
“I don’t need rescuing,” Stassi said. “I can handle my own.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Day answered.
“Your girlfriend’s a bitch, by the way,” she snapped.
“That statement is only half true,” he replied.
“Her sitting at the table shitting all over my company is the epitome of being a bitch.”
“That part is fact. She ain’t my girl, tho’,” Day answered.
She didn’t know why that news softened her. He disarmed her with the truth.
“Is that a smile?” Day asked, lifting her chin with one finger.
“No, nigga, the corners of my mouth have a mind of their own. I’m still mean-mugging you in my head,” Stassi answered.
Day’s interest in her was flattering because she knew that he didn’t lend it easily.
He was known for his brooding temperament.
He was nominated as music’s most eligible bachelor, but also known as one of the hardest to catch.
He played the field. Several blogs had caught him out with different women.
He seemed to have a different flavor for each day of the week, but they never caught him smiling.
Half the time, Day seemed disinterested in the women he chose, letting them follow behind with his entourage as he kept his head low, face normally concealed under a hat to evade the paparazzi.
He had made a conscious effort to find her, to check on her and she couldn’t help but feel special, even if only in this moment.
“Yeah, okay,” he answered. “This shit stale ain’t it?” He asked, looking over his shoulder, down the hall toward the noise of the party.
“A little bit,” Stassi agreed. “I never thought I’d see the day when Charlie was hosting a dinner party for bitches she doesn’t even like.”
“Everybody at that table is essential to Demi. Higher-ups at the label and muscle in other areas. She’s his queen now, so she has to be introduced. His people are now her people. They got to know who she is to him when she walks into the room. It’ll save a lot of lives.”
“You make this shit sound like Death Row,” she teased.
“Suge had the right idea, the wrong intent, though. We don’t want to control our artists. We don’t want to manipulate them for our profit. We want to influence the world,” Day said. “Our music has the power to do that. Your sister’s music.”
“You believe that, don’t you?” Stassi asked.
“Day!” The voice coming down the hall made Day slide inside the bathroom. Stassi laughed. “What are you doing?”
“Same thang you doing! Avoiding them mu’fuckas,” he said.
She hollered, and he enjoyed her amusement, planting his face in the nook of her neck until they both found themselves engulfed in fits of laughter.
“Day!” The voice was closer, and Stassi shushed him, putting her finger to his lips as she stifled herself.
It was the bougie fake girlfriend, coming in search of him, and Stassi almost wanted to let her find them. Fearing that the interruption would kill the vibe, she remained silent until the coast was clear. It wasn’t until the voice passed did they burst into laughter again.
“I mean, how many times is she gonna call your name before she realizes you don’t want to be found?” Stassi snickered.
“What you think about shaking this shit?” Day asked.
“Like together?” She didn’t know why she was surprised. Men like Day lived to conquer the room. She was in the room on this particular night; she posed a challenge… why the fuck not?
“I can’t leave her here with the vultures circling,” Stassi said. Some regret lived in her voice because she wanted to. She desperately needed to get out of there.
“It don’t surprise me that this isn’t your scene. It’s a little refreshing, being around somebody who don’t love the lifestyle,” he admitted. “Cuz a nigga bored as fuck with the same old, same old,” Day said.
“So why you keep surrounding yourself with the same old, same old?” Stassi challenged.
“You right,” Day admitted. “Might have to switch shit up,” he answered.
The tension in the half bathroom was potent, it choked her.
She felt the lump in her throat as she swallowed.
His eyes overindulged in her as he followed the spit down her throat and then lower, admiring her cleavage before drifting back to her eyes.
“When your taste elevates, your company got to as well.”
“I learned that in school,” she replied.
The wrinkles on his face showed his confusion.
“Maturing your palate will never let you settle for mediocre shit again,” she continued.
He nodded as if he had full understanding, as if she had placed sorbet on his tongue to prepare him for the next course.
His stare always lingered a moment too long; a second past courteous, just enough time to let her know he foresaw his lips being wrapped around her clit one day.
It throbbed in anticipation, just off the thought alone because, well…
every woman between the ages of 25 and 40 had read the blogs and seen the dick pic that had circulated about a year ago.
“Let me know when you ready to stop playing small,” Day whispered.