8. Crimson
crimson
. . .
I had a lot of firsts in one day. I knew Jahsir had connections and a little bit of cash. I didn’t know he had enough money to put us on a private plane. First-class treatment for ten hours had absolutely spoiled me.
Or so I thought.
Now, I sat in a foreign car with the partition up because Jah was all over me. While I wanted to savor his touch and kisses, I couldn’t. My eyes were glued to the window. I was literally in awe. Words couldn’t begin to capture the energy and luxury of this rich city.
“Jah. Wow,” I breathed through a kiss as his hands groped my breasts.
He leaned back, smirking like he owned the world. “Welcome to Monaco, lover. My home away from Mulholland Falls.”
“Here?” I stammered. “You’ve been here all this time?”
“Yeah.” Another smirk. “Why do you sound so shocked?”
“Everything is so… luxurious here. It’s beautiful, it’s grand, it’s-”
“The mecca for people with money,” he cut in. “And they love Black women over here. You know, out of every three people, at least one is a millionaire?”
“Wow, I can tell. Everyone looks so... happy.”
“Let’s make a toast,” he said, handing me a flute of champagne.
“A toast to what?”
“Love, happiness, forgiveness... and Crème De La Crimson.”
We clinked glasses and took a sip, then suddenly, a call came through on Jahsir’s phone. I gladly tuned him out, slipping right back into the moment, taking in everything outside the car.
The road into Monaco curved along tall cliffs.
I kept my eyes on the sea as it opened up beside us, which glittered and sparkled like it had nothing else to do.
It was clearly the center of attention. I leaned my elbow against the door and rested my chin on my hand, trying to play it cool.
But inside? I was overly excited. I didn’t know what the city had waiting for me.
Rooftop bars? Quiet alleys with musicians playing soft jazz music?
I spotted a few high-end stores tucked behind palm trees as we drove.
I was ready. Ready to step into something different.
And Jahsir.
The thought of him made my stomach twist, but in a good way. He spoiled me, but I could feel the tension brewing between us, just under the surface. I felt something. I didn’t quite know what it was yet.
Then we rounded a bend, and a villa came into view. Sleek, white, practically glowing against the sparkling water. It looked like something out of a movie. But before I could soak it all in, a small, sharp pinch tugged at my chest.
Scarlett.
I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to ruin the moment.
But her absence had followed me all the way here.
It wasn’t anxiety, exactly. Maybe it was mommy guilt?
A part of me still felt like I owed her an explanation, starting with why I came and what I was doing here.
She wasn’t even one yet, and she wouldn’t understand what a vacation was.
We’d be gone for a week. Would she remember me when I got back? What if she preferred Ms. Jemma over?—
“We have a party to go to.”
“Party?” I asked, grateful that Jahsir had unknowingly pulled me back from spiraling.
“Yes. I told you I wanted to share my dream with you.”
“Ooh! Now I’m even more excited. What should I wear? You think I can get away with wearing Akira around these millionaires?”
“You could show up in a garbage bag and still be the sexiest and best dressed one there.”
“Oh, stop!” I blushed. “Can we go shopping? Please?”
“Say less.”
After a couple of hours of shopping, I felt like new money.
Like I needed to change my name or something.
Instead of Crimson , folks would need to call me Crimsooon , stretching out the “O”.
I belonged in a room with oil paintings, ice sculptures and champagne waterfalls.
I felt like I needed to create a fake accent or something.
This environment literally called for an energetic but mature personality. Monaco was bringing me alive.
We arrived at a mansion, and I mean mansion .
Not the kind that people post on social media for aesthetics.
This had to be generational wealth. This was old money.
Spend millions on a painting, guest house the size of a three-story home, money, trust fund, I can afford a small island kind of money.
I could tell, and I wasn’t even inside yet.
The gates opened slowly, and we made our way up the driveway, which was another indication of wealth. The driveway was so long I wondered if we were going to another country. Jahsir glanced at me and grinned, watching me behave like a kid in a candy store.
“We’ve been up and out all day. Are you still with me, Crimsooon?” he teased me.
I laughed, shaking my head. “Oh, I'm with you. I refuse to even blink. I am not missing any of this.”
The car pulled to a stop in front of the grand entrance, where soft music soared into the night air, mixing with the sound of heels clicking and glasses clinking.
A valet opened my door, and the second my foot hit the marble, it was game on.
The shopping bags in the trunk didn’t matter.
The flight here didn’t matter. It was now .
I was stepping into something real and opulent and unfamiliar.
I was dressed in a deep, sapphire-blue dress that hugged my silhouette. My red curls were pinned up, a few playful strands escaped to frame my face. The shimmer of my diamond earrings and bracelet was courtesy of Jahsir. They were the only accessories I needed to feel like I belonged here.
The grand entrance hall stretched out before me with ceilings stretching, chandeliers dripping with crystals that caught every glint of the warm lighting.
The marble floors gleamed and appeared cool and smooth.
The air smelled faintly of jasmine and expensive perfume, mingling with the fresh ocean breeze slipping through open French doors.
Around me, elegantly dressed guests moved gracefully.
Then men wore tailored suits, and the women kept it simple with gowns featuring graceful necklines.
Waiters weaved between groups carrying trays of champagne flutes and bite-sized delicacies.
A band, or a stringed quartet - if I'm being fancy- played a soft melody that wrapped the room in gentle sophistication.
Jahsir, was in his element. I stayed close while he played Big Spender.
It was interesting; they all drifted to him.
They sought him out. He greeted people like royalty, returning their handshakes, shoulder clasps, and even greeting some of them in French.
His confidence was on a whole different level in this space, like he wasn’t just visiting, but belonged .
It was sexy, but if I’m being honest, it made me feel a way.
Jah leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “Ready to meet the people who make dreams happen?”
“Lead the way.”
I followed Jahsir through the crowd until we were met with a handsome older gentleman. He wore a white suit jacket, immediately making him stand out from the crowd. Jahsir greeted him from behind, prompting the gentleman to turn around.
“Gino, what’s good?”
“Sir Jah, how are you doing, man?” They dap up. The handsome man settled his eyes on me. “And this must be your muse, I’d recognize that face anywhere.”
I gave him a confused look, then held out my hand. “Hi, I’m-”
“Crimson,” he cut me off smoothly. “Like I said, I’d know you anywhere. How are you liking Monaco?”
“It’s beautiful. Breathtaking, really. If I lived here, I’d sail the sea every chance I got.”
“Speaking of, how about in a couple of days? I’m throwing a party on the Genevieve.”
“The Genevieve?”
“My yacht. You’ve got to come.”
Gino glanced at Jahsir, and he nodded. “I need to steal him away for a minute. Make yourself at home, Crimson. If you need anything, just ask. My staff will take care of you. Enjoy my home, please.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gino.” Enjoy my home ? My heart skipped a beat as I took in my surroundings once more. The mansion was enormous, far grander than anything I’d ever seen. It could have been a museum, and I was for sure it was until he said those words. People live like this, I thought.
I drifted toward the terrace overlooking the Mediterranean. The moon bathed part of the water in its glow, leaving the rest cloaked in shadow. The waves crashed against each other, and I found myself thinking back to Mr. Gino casually inviting us to the party aboard Genevieve .
I watched the guests from a distance, catching snippets of hushed conversations. In my mind, I started making up stories and little fantasies about how each of them had acquired their power and wealth. I was halfway through one when a gentle hand touched my arm.
“Enjoying the view?”
I turned and met the gaze of a woman with radiant chocolate skin, round eyes that sparkled, and a smile that somehow made you want to say yes to whatever she suggested.
“I am,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.”
She nodded knowingly. “Monaco has a way of doing that. I’m Genevieve, Gino’s wife.”
“What a pleasure,” I said with a smile. “Your home is breathtaking. I’m Crimson.”
“Oh, I know who you are,” she said with a little wink. “Your face has made me a lot of money. So tell me, Crimson beyond modeling, what do you do?”
“I-” I paused. For the first time, I didn’t have to say I worked at the bank. For the first time, I could say what I was . “I’m a designer. I own a boutique in the States.”
“Marvelous. I love to shop. Do you have a website? A business card?”
“Um, well... it’s still pretty new.”
“Oh, dear.” She laughed. “You MUST have a business card. You could find twenty clients in one room alone. Stay ready so you don’t have to get ready. Let’s go.” I smiled on the inside, considering I’d just told Zahara that a couple of weeks ago.