Chapter 7
SEVEN
Normally FNFs end with me hungover and passed out in my claimed room in Giselle’s home but not last night.
After waking up Friday morning in an unknown hotel bed, naked and apparently married, I limited myself to two drinks.
My friends did their usual and crashed but me and my sober mind stayed up after them and did what I do best, strategized.
I left Giselle’s around ten and just arrived at my house.
Before hopping into my shower, I call Duke.
For my first election to the bench, because I ran unopposed, I didn’t have a campaign manager.
There was no need. However, as soon as former D.A.
Lyle Richardson hinted at running early last year, I put out feelers and Duke’s name kept coming up for running successful campaigns.
I hired him immediately and he’s been on top of everything ever since.
“Good morning, Judge,” he answers.
“Happy Saturday,” I return. “We need to talk.”
“That sounded heavy. Should I be sitting or standing?”
“Actually, I think it’s best for you to be here. This has to be in person.”
Urgently, he says, “I’m on my way now.”
Trying to calm him, I speak in a slower tone. “It can wait an hour or two. I just got home and I’m about to shower, get myself together, and drink a much needed latte. Let’s say noon?”
“Noon. Okay. I can do that. Do I need to bring anything?”
“Just your beautiful, strategizing mind. I need it this morning.”
“You’re making me worry, Mireya,” he says with concern.
“Don’t. Not until we talk. See you at noon.”
After I end the call, I place my cell on the stone top of my cream leather nightstand then journey into my walk-in.
Once I’ve removed my clothing, I place them in the bamboo hamper then grab one of my comfortable, extra-long, jersey dresses from the hangers for after my bath.
I changed my mind; I need a long hot bath in the favorite part of my condo.
There was only one prior owner of my condo before me, an NBA player who stayed here during the season.
To accommodate his lifestyle and size, he remodeled the bathroom to resemble a modern Japanese spa.
My bathroom has naguri-bori flooring, an amazing, seven-foot hinoki bathtub with a wall-mounted bamboo spout, and shoji doors on the dual head and steam shower.
I love my bathroom and I’m obsessed with the tub.
Before entering my bathroom, I get my cell from my nightstand.
Inside, I grab one of my favorite goat milk, oatmeal, and honey bath bombs from the basket on my mounted shelf and drop it into the tub before starting the water.
As the tub fills, I pull my hair into a high bun.
My Dominican blowout is in desperate need of a refresh and Tuesday can’t get here fast enough.
Once my face is cleaned, refreshed with toner, and moisturized, I turn off the faucet, slide into the tub, and rest my head against my bath pillow.
This is exactly what I needed.
Every tense muscle in my body seems to relax and my skin soaks up the moisture from the infused water as I simply sink into the experience and close my eyes. I’m still, soaking and relaxing uninterrupted for about ten minutes. My eyes don’t open until my cell rings.
“Damn!” I utter, annoyed.
After opening my eyes and sitting up, I dry my hands and answer my phone before looking at the screen. “Hello?”
“You sound mighty awake,” Kyrah says, sounding the complete opposite of awake.
“All I said was hello. Are you just getting up?”
“Girl, yes. I went looking for you but Giselle said you left before ten.”
“Yes. I got out early. I need to conduct pre-damage control today with Duke. He’s coming over in a few.”
“I just wanted to apologize. I don’t know if I did last night,” she says.
“Apologize for what?”
“The drink,” she says solemnly.
“Kyrah, I’m thirty-two years old, grown grown. I drank that can on my own. You have nothing to apologize for. Please don’t apologize. I don’t blame you for anything. It was all me and him,” I admit.
“Alright, girl, because that shit was bothering me. It’s the first thing that hit me when I opened my eyes. I felt horrible.”
“Don’t.”
“Okay. I won’t, but are you okay with everything?”
“I’m dealing with it. Well, about to deal with it. I don’t know if I can say I’m okay just yet, but I do know myself and I will be just fine.”
“Like your husband,” she whispers.
“Bye, Kyrah.”
“You said you were going to be okay, so I had to say it. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Since I already have my phone in hand, I navigate to Quintus’s texts and my responses. My after two response was kind of vague. For a moment, I debate sending another text or calling. Calling prevails.
“Quintus,” he answers, sounding as sexy as he did yesterday morning.
Does he sound like this every morning?
Girl, stop.
“It’s Mireya. I was…I’m calling to solidify a real time for today, if we are still meeting to discuss our little situation.”
“You mean our marriage?”
“Yeah. I don’t think we need to be out in public together until we’ve talked this through.”
“I feel you on that. Private is better. I can come to you,” he suggests.
My place?
“Um…”
“Or you can come to me. I’m in Diamond Falls though and I can’t have you driving to me. So I can come scoop you.”
I give in. “That’s too much. We can just do it here. Are you familiar with The Millennium Condominiums?”
“I’ve heard of them and I can look them up.”
“There are two towers. I’ll send you my address and let security know you’re coming. Is three o’clock okay?”
“I’m on your time,” he says smoothly.
“Then I’ll see you at three.”
“I’ll be there, wife,” he says and I hear the change in his tone.
“Too early,” I utter, then end the call.
Wife! Yeah…
This shit is wild as hell.
All night, Giselle’s words ran wild in my head. Are you really okay without your dream husband and wedding? I told her I was but am I?
Being raised by the most beautiful example of Black love shaped me, every aspect of me.
I watched my grandparents love on one another through life’s ups and downs.
My papa fixed my ma’s coffee every morning.
He made sure she never lifted a hand for anything strenuous.
Every meal my papa ate was prepared lovingly by my ma and she made sure our home was his safe place.
As the pastor of a church, he carried many burdens of his congregation and she helped lighten his load.
They were love personified. They never left each other’s sight without a kiss and exchanges of I love you.
I was three when my mother lost her battle with drug addiction.
Her parents didn’t want me but my dad’s parents did.
They lost my father to the same addiction the year I was born and had no idea I existed until the state contacted them.
My ma said the moment she saw me, she knew I belonged to them and the love they had for each other transferred to me.
I knew from a very young age that I wanted what they had, all of it.
I saw a man who loved me like my papa and me reciprocating it all.
I envisioned a small but beautiful ceremony with that man followed by an even more beautiful life together.
I dreamed of every minute detail of my forever and not one of those details included a stranger, hotel suite, and an internet officiant.
If my ma and papa could see me now… I roll my eyes.
After pulling myself from the thoughts of my faux pas, I place my phone back on the small bamboo stand next to my tub and wash my body.
Once out of the tub, dry with moisturized skin, I dress then journey to my kitchen for my much-desired latte.
As it brews, I place a brown sugar cinnamon bagel in my quick serve toaster and grab my favorite honey pecan cream cheese.
I need caffeine in my bloodstream and food in my stomach to have this conversation with Duke.
I’m on my ultra-sofa, off-white sectional, propped against my comfy pillows and finishing my latte when security informs me Duke is in the lobby.
After granting permission for Duke to come up, I swallow the last of my drink and take it and the other half of my bagel to the kitchen.
Then, I light my Calm candle from my C3 collection to get the energy right in the room.
Duke is at my door before I sit on the sectional, so I let him in.
“Well, you look okay,” he says with squinted eyes.
“Just okay,” I respond, fake fawning.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he counters as he enters. “I didn’t know what I was walking into and seeing you look this relaxed and calm is… I guess… unexpected?”
“It’s the latte. Sit so we can talk,” I say and he sits on the sectional. “Do you want something to drink?”
“No, I’ve already had three black coffees.”
“Rough morning?”
“Depends on what you have to say. Despite Richardson’s best attempts to undermine you and your record, we are still favored in the polls.
His past statements on prison reform are still hurting him but we know the sweet family he parades around at each event is helping him climb.
Married couples favor him, regardless of his ridiculous statements.
People erroneously support married candidates.
You being married could solidify this for us.
It’s close and anything can bridge that gap,” he explains, as if I’m not keenly aware of my predicament.
“I know, which is why you are here and I’m not going to beat around the bush,” I say, then sigh.
“Friday night, at the ball, I was a little reckless.” He sits all the way up, anxiously awaiting my next words.
“I got married online.” Duke’s mouth opens, as if to speak, but I continue before he can.
“He’s a defense attorney and he appeared in my court yesterday morning.
I didn’t remember marrying him but I did.
There’s a video.” Duke’s mouth opens even wider then he falls back on my sectional.
“Naturally, I had to recuse myself from the case…conflict. It’s all on record, the marriage license and my recusal. So there’s nothing I can do but?—”
“Stay fucking married,” he huffs, interrupting me.
While shaking his head, he lets out a few deep breaths then gets into crisis prevention mode.
“What’s his name? Are you familiar with his records?
His typical clients? What’s his family situation?
We need to get in front of this before Richardson’s camp gets wind of this.
Maybe make an announcement in The Chronicle?
Yes, and a personal appearance together?
Maybe an official announcement or dinner with family, friends, a few constituents.
Wait, were you even seeing him?” he rambles.
Choosing to answer what I want how I want, I begin with his last question. “No, I wasn’t seeing him. I met him at the ball. I wasn’t fully lucid.”
“Was your lack of lucidity induced by legal substances, at least?”
“Seriously! Of course, it was. Bourbon and liquid THC, legal but a bad combination for me.”
“I’d say,” he utters before quickly apologizing.
“Sorry, I just…wow! Well, at least we don’t have to disclose that.
But we do need to act fast. We have to announce this before his camp does.
They can’t scoop us. I’ll contact my connect at the paper and get it to run tomorrow.
A quick announcement. I just need his name so I can do the write up. ”
“His name is Quintus, Q-u-i-n-t-u-s, Bako, one K, but don’t contact your guy just yet. I need to talk to him first. We’re meeting later today.”
“He does know you’re in the middle of an election, right? He can’t be camera or public shy.”
“He knows and I don’t think there’s anything shy about him. He’s a charismatic defense attorney. He’ll be fine, but it is still his life. I’m sure he’ll be okay with the announcement but I still want to run all this by him first.”
“Okay and the celebration dinner? It has to happen within a week, two weeks is too long. I can contact Haute Events to handle the dinner party. Maybe at The Metropolitan.”
“The scene of the crime? That’s a no. Maybe somewhere on the mountain or near it. See if she has a suggestion. Small though. I’m not trying to attract more attention than needed. Maybe like twenty people.”
“Twenty? Mireya, the constituents make up twenty and you don’t know about his family. Give me something I can work with, please. Fifty?”
“Okay,” I relent. “But not a number over fifty, hard line.”
“Got it. But when am I going to meet him and brief him on appearances?”
“Limited appearances. I want to expose this to minimize damage but I’m not parading this situation. It’s awkward enough, besides, it’s not real. As soon as I’m re-elected, this marriage is over.”
“Well, not as soon as. That would look like a political stunt. You have to wait a period after the election,” he says and I sit all the way up.
“How long?”
“At least a few months. Think about it. You have to wait.”
“So, January?” I question because doing this until November is already unthinkable.
“Like the end of January. The new term doesn’t start until January first. We need to wait your first month out.
After you win, we will start working on an exit strategy.
Let’s just focus on the announcement and dinner party.
I’ll work on those while you work on him.
Let’s connect again this evening,” he says then stands.
When he pinches his tight pants and pulls them down, I hold in my laugh. Duke is always impeccably dressed. In fact, he has on a nice ass, deep burgundy suit today and it’s Saturday. However, his pants are tight as hell.
“I’ll call you as soon as I speak with him,” I assure him.
“Perfect,” he says and I start to get up. “Don’t. I can let myself out,” he says with a nod before walking to my front door. When he’s out, I fall back on my sofa.
January!
Can I do this until January?
That’s a long ass time.