Lovers' Dance

Chapter 8.3

I stared at Matt for a second, that arrogant smile on his face as he stood there casually as if my world wasn’t being torn apart.

“Nothing is private. There are reporters outside my place of business, asking personal questions about us. We’ve had to cancel classes. Is this a joke to you?” My voice was shrill and Matt gave me his ‘I’m older and smarter than you look’. It pissed me off.

“Of course not.”

“Have you seen what they have been writing about us? About me?” I fumed. He was acting as if this was nothing. To him it might be nothing; he was used to being in the public eye, but I wasn’t. I clacked my fingers over the keyboard, bringing up the last article I’d read and scrolling down to the comments section.

“Madi,” he started. My glare cut him off.

“That Bradley man should be ashamed of himself. Bestiality is illegal. Lol.” I read it out loud.

Matt’s face lost all its colour. Nathan looked like he wanted to be somewhere else. Dante shook his head in disgust. He understood.

“Don’t y’all got white sheets in England? Lol.” My hands were starting to shake as I verbalized the foulness posted on the site.

“She’s a hoe, a gold-digging hoe. That man should know better.”

“Black women are cumsluts for white men. Betcha he’s into role play. Think he has a whip? LMAO.”

“I’d fuck her, too. Have you seen that ass?”

“Wonder how much he’s paying her?”

“How can a rich, good-looking white man sleep with a black woman? Easy. Turn off the lights. Pussy feels the same in the dark. Wait. Make sure she shaved. ROTFL.”

Matt reached out for me, and I jerked away. It was vile, and it made me sick.

“Why are you people posting these comments? Wealthy, white men always make charitable donations to minorities, and I’m sure he’s donating a lot of charity in her ass. Wink, wink.”

“She looks like her crack-whore mum, both slags. Ghetto yank bitch need to leave our white men alone. Even their own kind don’t want them. Why the hell is she over here? She isn’t English. Go back to Africa, skank.”

“You can’t blame her, niggas always wanting something from white people. She wants his money and uses her ass to get it.”

“Did the article say she was a ballerina? Hmm, is that the new name for stripper now? lol. You know we’re all thinking it.”

“Enough.” Matt’s harsh command cracked through the air. “Stop reading those repulsive comments.”

My breathing was becoming erratic, and Dante immediately came over to grab me by the shoulders. I could feel the beginnings of another panic attack coming on.

“Breathe, Madi,” he murmured, inhaling deeply, then exhaling slowly. I tried to mimic his calm breathing, but could only take short, frantic gulps of air.

“What’s wrong with her?” Matt asked.

“She’s about to have a panic attack,” Dante explained, with a nasty undertone running through his words. “Hasn’t had one for years and this will be her second for the day.”

It was obvious Dante laid the blame at Matt’s feet. I focused on my breathing while peering into Dante’s chocolate eyes.

“That’s it, sweet cheeks,” he soothed five minutes later. “Nice and easy. Atta girl.”

I let out a long, shaky breath, thankful I hadn’t lapsed into a full-blown attack in front of Matt and his friend. With that thought in my mind, I managed a weak smile in Nathan’s direction.

“Hey, Nathan, nice to see you again.”

He shuffled a briefcase from one hand to the next, looking uncomfortable next to one of the filing cabinets. “Yes, I wish it was under more pleasant circumstances, Madi.”

“You suffer from panic attacks?” Matt asked, reaching over to pull me away from Dante.

“Not since I was a kid but, as of today, yes,” I bit out, mad over his blasé behaviour. I jerked back from him and stalked a few feet away. Matt followed, intruding on my personal space and obviously ignoring my mean countenance. This was all his fault.

“I’m going to sue,” I said to no one in particular. “They can’t print lies about my family. They’re making it sound as if my mom was a weed-smoking hippy who got swept up in a modern sort of civil rights movement. She wasn’t an activist, and she didn’t smoke. I know she didn’t. That picture was photo-shopped.”

Matt suddenly looked uneasy and tugged at the collar of his sweater. I liked him in that sweater. It clung to the lines of his upper body in an appealing way. I pushed my untimely, horny thoughts away and began planning my vengeance on the media. I would sue all their asses and invest all the money I won into the dance studio. Ha!

“Erm, poppet.” Matt hesitated as my gaze swung to him. He straightened his broad shoulders and fixed a neutral expression on his handsome face. “You can’t instigate litigation procedures against the press.”

I frowned. Did he expect me to allow my family’s name to be dragged through the mud?

“Erm, yes I can. I don’t know how you normally deal with the press, but I’m not letting them get away with this. It’s slander and my mom can’t defend herself—”

“It’s not slander if it’s true, Madi,” Matt said quietly.

“Say what?” Dante burst out. He’d stolen the words right from my mouth. Nathan fidgeted with his briefcase, not meeting anyone’s eyes while I stared open-mouthed at Matt.

“It isn’t,” I finally said with conviction. Aunt Cleo never mentioned anything about my mom being caught up in things like that. Then, again, she rarely spoke about my mom.

“Yes, it is, poppet,” Matt said softly. “I’m not implying she was a habitual marijuana user—”

My mouth fell open again.

“—but there is photographic proof that she…well, that’s beside the point…”

My eyes widened in disbelief. Matt cleared his throat lightly.

“She was a participating member of a few affirmative rights movements, but that was for a very brief period and she was only a young woman then. When she met your father, she left—”

“Shut up,” I whispered, not wanting to hear anymore. It was a lie. I knew my parents. This new information was fabricated. Why the hell was Matt ready to believe these things printed about them? “How can you stand there and agree with the media? How can you act like you know this is true when it isn’t?”

Matt’s sighed in resignation, then said, “I don’t want you to get upset with what I’m about to tell you, poppet.”

Nathan suddenly went over to the far corner of the room, opening his briefcase and immersing himself in whatever it contained. I arched an eyebrow at his strange behaviour, then turned my attention back to Matt.

He closed the small distance between us, grey eyes filled with unreadable emotion. “Before we began our relationship, I came into possession of information concerning you and your family—”

“What?” The word on the tip of my tongue once again being verbalized by Dante, who was no longer perched on the edge of the desk. He stalked towards Matt.

I didn’t understand at first. How could Matt know about me before we hooked up? Then it hit me.

“You bastard.” The palm of my right hand made a hard connection with Matt’s left cheek. The sound of the slap was sharp, like the crack of a whip. The only reaction from Matt was a small wince of pain.

“You ran a background check on me, didn’t you? You self-righteous, up-your-own-ass pig. How dare you!”

Matt’s throat bobbed up and down. The imprint of my palm was startling red across his cheek. “Madi, darling, I—”

“Shut up. I’m not going to listen to one more word out of you. I can’t believe this. Sneaky, no-good, snobby—”

The loud knock on the office door broke off my tirade. All eyes swung towards the door as it opened slowly. Gloria’s red hair popped around it.

“Dante, Christine is here and she—hey, don’t barge past me, Christine.”

Christine. The ever lovely Christine walked into my office as if she owned the damned thing. Dante sighed and fixed a smile on his face as she observed us with a healthy measure of excited curiosity.

“Christine, what are you doing here, babe? I told you this is not a good time.”

She beamed at him and produced a bag from behind her back. “I brought you lunch. The press is out there.” She walked over to kiss Dante on the lips and rest the bag of whatever food she’d brought on my cluttered desk. She looked good, wearing a form-hugging knit dress that showed off her curves. Christine stuck her hand out at Matt. “Hi, I’m Christine.”

Matt, always polite, gently shook her hand. Christine eyes widened at the red palm print on his face.

“Matthew Bradley. It’s nice to meet you, Christine.”

“I can’t believe I shook hands with a billionaire,” she gushed, café-au-lait skin going nicely flushed. I rolled my eyes in disgust, and Matt looked uncomfortable at the mention of his financial worth.

“Now is not a good time, Christine,” I muttered, shooting daggers at Matt with my eyes.

Her mouth tightened in displeasure and she turned to me with a fake smile. “Oh, Madi, you’re such a dark horse. I knew you weren’t as innocent as Dante tried to convince me. Look at you, carrying on with an older man.”

“Dante.” He knew from the tone of my voice I was at my breaking point. And her little description: dark horse. I knew her ‘other’ meaning.

“Babe, why don’t you go wait out front for me?” He gestured to the door and Christine pouted, flicking her relaxed hair over one shoulder.

“Aww, but I came all this way to see you today,” she complained.

I glared at her. She lived twenty minutes away. What was she playing at?

“I know,” Dante said, “But we need privacy. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Christine, not liking her dismissal, folded her arms and shrugged. “It’s not like we don’t know Madi’s sleeping around with—”

“You better get your ass outta here,” I yelled. Matt’s face was a picture of shock at my behaviour. Well, fuck it. They were painting me as a ghetto hoe in the media. Fine. I’d play into the stereotype.

“Don’t talk to me like that. Dante, are you going to let her speak to me like that?”

Dante’s gaze jumped helplessly between us. “Babe, wait outside. Please.”

“But she’s rude—”

“Rude? Girl, I will—”

“Madison.” Matt grabbed my arm as I tried to go past him. I don’t know what I would’ve done. Probably gotten my ass whupped, seeing as I’d never been in a girl-on-girl fight before. But I was furious. With everything and everyone.

“What is wrong with you?” Matt’s chastisement was deserving of another slap, but I repressed the urge, barely.

“I don’t know, Matt,” I said sarcastically while exchanging mean looks with Christine as Dante led her out of my office. “I woke up this morning feeling on top of the world, only to realize that the world has decided to defecate right over me. This—this whole situation is—I can’t—”

Matt pulled me into his arms. I resisted, but he tightened his hold until I stopped trying to escape.

“Poppet, I’m so sorry this is happening. I’ll fix it.”

I raised my head from where it was pressed against his chest. “Promise?”

His mouth quirked up at the corners. “I promise.” He kissed my forehead, then leaned back, arms still encircling me to say, “Nothing’s changed.”

That confused me. Was he senile? At the reasonably young age of thirty-seven?

“Matt, everything’s changed. How can you say that? The whole world knows about us.”

“You and your outrageous exaggerations,” he murmured, while stroking a hand up and down my back. “The whole world doesn’t know about us and that wasn’t what I was referring to, poppet.”

“What were you referring to then?” I asked, exasperated and beginning to feel angry again. He had a background check done on me. Before we hooked up. Who does that?

“What did I tell you last night?” he asked, eyebrow arched sternly. I tried not to smile over the memory of last night. He said he loved me. Despite everything else that was going on, the fact he said he loved me made me feel mushy inside.

“To always wear my seatbelt?” I deliberately feigned misunderstanding. Matt lowered his lips to claim mine. This kiss was the sweetest he’d ever bestowed on me to date.

“Nothing has changed,” he whispered fiercely when he let me up for air.

“Sorry I slapped you.” I apologized with throbbing lips. I raised my hand to rest it gently across his cheek. Matt twisted his head to press a kiss to my palm.

“It was deserved,” he acknowledged ruefully.

“I’m still mad at you,” I warned. He grinned and my heart went pitter-patter.

“Sorry to interrupt your ill-timed canoodling.” Nathan’s voice made me jump. I’d forgotten he was in here with us. “But there is the urgent matter of the press congregating outside. I need you to go over this statement with me, Matt.”

Matt levelled Nathan with an expectant look as I stepped out of his embrace. “Isn’t there something you need to say, Nathan? To clear up any false impression Madi may have?”

Nathan returned Matt’s expectant stare with a bland one of his own. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can we please focus on what I want you to say, or would you prefer I speak to the press on your behalf?”

Matt regarded Nathan for a charged moment and Nathan’s complexion took on a faint pink hue. He was wearing a casual suit, managing to pull off the fine balance between businessman and trendy partier. The suit probably cost more than my car.

The door opened and Dante walked in, blatantly frustrated if his jerky strides were anything to go off of. He pointed to the phone on the desk. I looked over and saw the flashing red light.

“Gloria patched a call through. Your aunt Cleo’s on the line 1. She’s been trying to contact you since yesterday morning.”

If there was ever a time I wanted to disappear, now was it.

“Does she know I’m here?” I wrung my hands together, then let out a groan when Dante nodded.

“Gloria told her you were.” He pointed to the phone.

“Does she know about…” My voice trailed off as Dante nodded again. God help me.

“Where’s the handset?” I asked, eyes riveted on the flashing light.

Dante walked back to the door and yelled down the hallway, “Who’s got the handset for the office? I’m tired of telling y’all about this. Gloria? Gloria?”

A faint, “I don’t know, Dante. Ask Liam,” came back.

Dante exhaled loudly. “You better take that call, Madi. When I spoke to her last night she didn’t sound happy.”

I didn’t want to talk to my aunt, not with Matt and his friend in the office and a missing handset. I would have to put her on speaker and, if she knew what was going on, she would be pissed off. An angry aunt Cleo was a force of nature.

I scurried to the door under Matt’s watchful gaze. “Liam. Where’s the handset? Damn it. Why are you guys always taking stuff from the office?”

“Liam isn’t here yet,” Gloria shouted.

“Then why the hell did you tell me to ask Liam?” Dante responded. We both stood squashed in the doorway, glowering up and down the corridor. We shared the same fear: Aunt Cleo was mad. Someone would bear the brunt of her anger.

“Madi,” Matt called. “Aren’t you going to take the call?”

I turned around, chewing my lower lip. “Uh, can we have privacy?”

Nathan immediately started walking across the room, while Matt arched an expressive eyebrow at me.

“You want me to go wait in the hall?” he asked. The eyebrow had lowered, and I knew whenever his left eyebrow went up and down that fast he was offended.

“Why don’t you and Nathan have a look around the building?” I suggested, ever conscious of the flashing light. Shit. How long had she been on hold? The longer she waited the angrier she would get. Aunt Cleo didn’t like waiting.

Nathan had stopped his approach to the door, glancing between Matt and myself.

“I’d rather stay in here with you,” Matt stated in a tone that expected to be obeyed, then added sneakily, “For moral support, poppet.”

Nathan returned to his original position, the action clearly indicating if Matt was staying, so was he.

Dante looked at me and mouthed, “Crazy-ass white folks.” He shot Matt an unfriendly stare. “This is private, family business. Get out of here.”

Matt didn’t react to Dante’s order. Instead, that damned eyebrow went up again as he coolly surveyed my friend. I don’t think anyone, white or black, spoke to Matt in that way, and lived.

“She’s my girlfriend and I’m staying. Accept it and move on.”

“Girlfriend?” Nathan was peering at Matt as if he’d lost his mind.

“This has nothing to do with you.” Dante walked back into the office while I hugged the doorframe.

“On the contrary, this actually has everything to do with me,” Matt smiled coldly at Dante. “And Madi.”

“Oh, for the love of God.” I abandoned my post in the doorway, shutting the door before storming over to the desk. I pointed a finger at Matt. “Do not say one word. That goes for you too, Nathan.” Then, I looked at Dante. “Will you talk—”

“No, hell, no.” Dante cut me off with a decisive shake of his braided head. Damn. Some friend.

I took a deep calming breath and pressed the button. “Hey, Aunt Cleo. How are—”

“Don’t you ‘Hey, Aunt Cleo’ me.”

I winced at her angry greeting. Dante was giving me pitying glances. “Aunt Cleo, you’re on speaker phone, so if you could—”

“I don’t care if I’m on megaphone. What in the Lord’s name are you getting up to, child? Jamal showed me this stuff on the Internet about you and some rich man.”

I shot a nervous look at Matt who was staring at the phone with morbid fascination. Nathan looked uncomfortable as he made himself busy with the papers in his briefcase.

“Aunt Cleo, let me explain—”

“Explain?” That came out as a shriek. “You listen here. No niece of mine is going to be laying up under some white man. Have you forgotten everything I told you? Most of them are racists, looking down their noses at us black people, keeping us down. You should know better. I didn’t raise you to be a fool.”

“Aunt Cleo—”

“Am I done talking?” she yelled.

“No,” I muttered, staring dejectedly at the phone.

“Then shut your mouth. Always with the sass. You need to get your head together and act right. I have people in my church calling me up, telling me they’ve been reading all sorts of things on the Internet. They are talking about our family, making us look bad.”

“There wasn’t anything much about you and—”

“Madi, if you don’t shut that mouth of yours,” she threatened. I shut my mouth, face heated at being spoken to like a child. Dante straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat lightly.

“Who’s that?” Aunt Cleo asked.

“Hey, Aunt Cleo,” he said warmly. “It’s Dante here—”

“You, you let this happen.” She started berating him. It was my turn to send him a pitying glance. “You’re supposed to be taking care of her over there. How could you let her take up with that man, Dante? Don’t you have any nice friends to take her out? Shame on you. Now everyone’s gossiping about her. Calling her a sell-out, a-a—white man’s hoe.”

“Aunt Cleo,” I burst out, hurt that she would say that and painfully aware of Matt’s silent observance. I should’ve dragged his butt out of there before taking the call.

“Well, it’s true,” she admonished. “That’s what they’re calling you. A white-washed hoe. No traditional black man is going to want you now. How could you do this to me? Didn’t I raise you right? You know he’s using you for sex.”

Could a person die from humiliation? The way I felt, it was likely. Dante exchanged an embarrassed look with me, then tried to calm my aunt down.

“Aunt Cleo, come on now. Madi’s twenty-six, a grown—”

“Grown what? She isn’t grown. The girl’s got no sense at all. Just like her mother. Now everyone knows what a wild woman she was—”

“Aunt Cleo, please don’t say that,” I interrupted.

She continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Shaming my brother, God rest his soul. Did you think about that, Madison? Did you think about what he would say if he was alive? To see you carrying on like this? Isn’t it enough that they try to persecute us every which way they can? Why couldn’t you find a nice, stable, black man?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and stared at my clasped hands. Dante tried again to defend me.

“Auntie Cleo, maybe you’re overreacting—”

“Am I done talking?” She fumed. “Don’t you get sassy with me, young man. You’ve been coming to my house since you were nine-years-old, and I can still smack sense into you.”

Dante shut his mouth. Aunt Cleo was not someone to mess with. She was thousands of miles away, an ocean between us, yet I felt cowered. It boiled down to the way we were raised. You did not disrespect your elders, especially in black families. Do so at your own risk.

“Don’t fool yourself into thinking white men are different over there, Madison. They’re just as bad. Filling your head with nonsense to sleep with you, that’s all they want. He sure as hell won’t marry you. A rich man like that is only out for one thing and you’re serving it up with no thought of the consequences. You might as well put chains on and call him massa—”

“How dare you!” Matt exploded in a hard voice. My head snapped up at his outburst. Did I not tell him to stay quiet?

“Who’s that?” Aunt Cleo asked uncertainly.

I gave Matt a mean look before hastening to say, “No one, Aunt Cleo. It’s the TV. Look, can we please discuss this later? I’m at work—”

“I’ve been calling you on your cell and the house phone since yesterday, but you were too busy living it up in Italy, like some mistress with that man. Wearing that skimpy piece of string, showing your ass for the whole world to see. Your uncle hasn’t stopped arguing with me, blaming me for your behaviour. Did you think about us before you decided to parade about with that man? Jamal and Jenny are embarrassed, seeing pictures of their cousin all over the Internet like that.” She let out a loud, weary sigh.

“Aunt Cleo,” I tried to make my tone firm, “Think about your blood pressure. I don’t want you to worry about this. I’ll fix it.”

“Fix it? The only way to fix this is to stay away from that man, you hear? Stay away from him. Dante?”

“Yes, Aunt Cleo,” Dante answered.

“I want you to put my niece on a plane and send her home—”

“Wait a minute,” I said, flustered at where the conversation was going. Damn it. I was twenty-six years old, even if sometimes I didn’t act it.

“No, Madison. You come back home. I’m going to take you to church, and don’t tell me you’ve been going to service over there because I know you haven’t.”

“I can’t.” I looked beseechingly at Dante. He held his hands up in defeat.

“If you don’t come here, I’ll come over there and sort you out. I’m sure Dante’s mom will enjoy a trip to England. It’s obvious you two don’t know how to act right.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” Dante argued. I staggered over to where Dante stood. This was a farce. My life was turning into a farce.

“You’re just as responsible. Educated, strong, black man like you letting her get involved with someone like that. Why you haven’t married her yet is beyond me. You’re twenty-eight. Time to settle down and have babies, Dante.”

Oh God. I avoided Matt’s gaze like my life depended on it.

“We have to go Aunt Cleo,” I muttered. “I’ll call you later.”

“You better call, or—”

“Love you,” I said in an attempt to block another one of her verbal assaults.

“Humph. I love you too, sweetie. Stay away from that man.”

“Bye, Aunt Cleo,” Dante and I said in unison before I hung up.

The office descended into a charged silence, until Nathan coughed lightly and said, “We should discuss this statement before we speak to the press.”

Matt folded his arms, piercing grey eyes latched on my face. “Your Aunt Cleo’s a racist.”

“No, she’s not,” I replied defensively.

Matt scoffed.

Dante glared at him and Nathan.

I folded my arms, like Matt. He better not start this. No one badmouthed my family. He didn’t know anything about them. Oh, wait, the sneaky giant had run a background check on me.

“I fail to understand how you can let her speak to you like that. How can you let anyone speak to you in such a manner? The things she said were offensive. And not once during that call did you defend me.”

I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t deal with this anymore. Defend him? Was he serious? My aunt was expressing her views. She was entitled to do so, and a little part of me believed she was right. I couldn’t help it. I’d grown up dealing with the unfair stereotypes applied to black people. Of course it coloured my view on society. Matt didn’t understand. He couldn’t.

I walked around the desk and dropped to the floor.

“You’re not going to hide again, are you?” Dante asked.

“No. Getting my bag.” I straightened up and slung the bag over my shoulder. “Matt, there’s a group of reporters in front this building. Make them go away.” I headed for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Matt called. “We need to discuss what just happened.”

“I need to dance until my feet hurt. Dante, you coming?”

With one last scowl at the two white men in our office, Dante sauntered out the door I held open. Matt and Nathan looked at each other while I tapped my foot impatiently, holding the door open.

“What?” Matt growled.

“I’m not leaving you two alone in here.”

“Of all the cheek,” Matt muttered, striding purposely towards me. “Where do you expect us to go?”

“Gloria will find somewhere for you,” I replied.

“Madison.” Matt was in what I had dubbed his ‘I’m in charge here’ stance. It was the way he held himself, rigid and uncompromising. This was my workplace, my building, my life. There were reporters outside my sanctuary, all because I had swirled with the wrong white man.

“Don’t ‘Madison’ me, Matthew. I’m furious with you. A background check? Do you know how that makes me feel?”

He had the grace to look ashamed. At least that was something.

“After you’ve gotten rid of the press outside,” I added, studiously avoiding his gaze, “I want you both to leave.”

“No,” he said.

I tightened my grip on my bag and raised my eyes to his. “This has been one of the worst mornings in my adult life and I need my space, Matt. Look, I’ll call you or something.”

Matt jerked back in shock. “Are you dismissing me?”

There it was. His arrogance shining through. Heaven forbid someone brushing off the great Matthew Bradley. Well, I wasn’t one of his employees. I was the black girl he was screwing and, right at this moment, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be that anymore. Everything was too complicated. Matt had been watching my face intently as those thoughts raced through my mind.

“Nothing’s changed, poppet.” His haughtiness being replaced by something else that unnerved me. Did he really love me?

“How do you do that?” I asked in frustration. “It’s like you’re reading my mind.”

A smile curved his mouth and I shook my head.

“Sweet cheeks, are you coming?” Dante was heading down the corridor to the main dance room. Matt scowled in his direction, then turned back to me.

“I hope he’s referring to your face and not somewhere else, poppet.”

I didn’t dare correct him. When we were in Venice, I had picked up on his jealous tendencies. He persisted in openly eyeballing any guy who checked me out. A few times he’d said something in Italian that made the guys hurry away. I told myself it was better not knowing.

“I’ve got to go, Matt. I’ll call you.” With that I scampered away, leaving him in the doorway of my office with a frown on his face.