2. Daylin Conrad
TWO
daylin conrad
FIVE YEARS LATER . . . PRESENT TIMING . . .BEFORE THE KIDNAPPING…
“Ooh, this is cute.” My assistant Morgin held up a gaudy tablecloth that made me turn my lip up while she sucked her teeth. “You don’t like shit that’s actually cute, Day.”
“I do too.” I laughed. “You just pick up shit that is ugly, and even worse, you don’t realize it.” I smirked to the sound of Morgin talking shit and going in about how exquisite her taste actually was, as we meandered about in Home Goods.
I wanted to throw a small appreciation dinner for the staff of my phone case company, Delicacies, for all the hard work they’d been putting in.
When I started the business two years ago, I never thought it would boom this quickly.
Just five months into Delicacies launching, I’d been able to quit my nine to five and focus on the company full time.
I had the same staff since its inception and wanted to give back to them in the form of a celebratory dinner with one of the top LA chefs.
“You know what, we need to go to the rich folk store like West Elm or something.” Morgin leaned on the shelving as she stood before me.
“For a one-night dinner?”
“Bitch, you are rich! All that money you make and you can’t spend a few hundred on a beautiful tablecloth for us?” She palmed her chest in shock.
I pondered for a moment before relenting and rolling my eyes at the way Morgin shrieked before tugging my ass out of the home store and into the parking lot.
We filed into my Mercedes and headed toward Manhattan Beach where the more affluent shops were.
Thankfully, it was down the street from where we were because I wasn’t about to hop on anybody’s freeway in this Los Angeles traffic.
I was already dog tired as it was from shopping all day in my poor shoe choice.
Half an hour later and I’d found what I needed. Spending two hundred dollars on a tablecloth that I would only use once wasn’t what I’d set out to do today, but Morgin was right—I made great money from Delicacies, and two hundred bucks surely wouldn’t send me to the poor house.
“Look, look!” Morgin backhanded my bicep as I accepted the bag from the grinning associate inside of West Elm.
“What?” I frowned, peering out of the store and into the mall, hoping to locate what the hell had Morgin so excited.
“That fine ass nigga eyeing me right there.” Morgin was talking to me, but her eyes were on the tall man with light caramel skin and beautifully twisted locs that brushed a little under his wide shoulders.
He was definitely fine, but I was a taken woman.
Not to mention, I could smell the fuckboy-ness from all the way where I was.
“Let’s go.” Morgin strutted off, putting a little extra stank in her walk as she left me behind to approach the nigga.
I could already sense what type he was just by the fact that he’d somewhat summoned Morgin over instead of approaching her. However, my assistant was way too giddy about him to notice or even care about small things like that, making her the complete opposite of my overly observant ass.
Following behind, I was sure to keep a distance behind Morgin, checking the time on my Patek. I was hoping the duo made it quick, exchanging numbers and parting ways so that Morgin and I could go grab something to eat and a much-needed cocktail.
“What?” My lip curled as I spoke lowly, wondering why Morgin was waving me over. I didn’t understand why I would be needed at this moment.
Noticing Morgin wouldn’t give in, I made my way over, smiling slightly and speaking to the tall and even finer up close specimen.
“This is Josias Godfrey,” Morgin introduced, emphasizing his last name as if I were supposed to know who he was.
“Nice to meet you . . .” He licked his lips as he seemingly awaited my name.
“Daylin,” I replied, nodding with a smirk.
“Cool. I was telling ya homegirl here that my brother is having an afterparty tonight, and y’all should come,” Josias expressed.
“Oh, thank you, but I’m busy.” I declined, making Josias smile subtly.
“No she is not.” Morgin shot me a look as if she were in utter disbelief. I didn’t really understand the big deal about Josias Godfrey, his brother, or this party.
I knew Morgin, though, and if she was this voracious, then I knew Josias and his brother were either famous, rich, street infamous, or maybe even all the above.
“Well, if y’all change ya mind, you can come. I can’t get you into the fight, because that shit is sewed up, but for the party, I got you.” He handed his iPhone, with a blank contact sheet pulled up, to Morgin, who excitedly typed in her information, making me chuckle lowly at her behavior.
“Thank you. See you tonight.” Morgin extended his phone back to him, nibbling on her lip ravenously as if he were a full course meal.
“I hope so.” Josias leaned up off the wall and swaggered off.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Morgin hopped in front of me, intersecting my path.
“We are going to that damn party tonight. I get you’re in a relationship and wanna be boring, but I need a man and preferably him.” She folded her arms as if she were my boss and not the other way around.
“Girl, let’s go eat.” I ignored her spiel and started off.
I’d started to lose count as to how many times Morgin ranted about me being in a boring relationship simply because I wasn’t with a man that had extremely fat pockets and fame.
Shaun was never broke, and that was what mattered.
I couldn’t remember him ever asking me to pay or saying he didn’t have the bread to fund a request of mine.
Falling in line beside me, Morgin continued her fussing. “I am serious. I have been good to you and Delicacies, and I just need this one favor.”
“I need food before I keep having this conversation.”
Morgin agreed through slight silence and changed the subject. But once we were inside of Eddie V’s with two cocktails and an appetizer between us, she wasted no time getting back into it.
“This party is for thee Ayan Godfrey, Day.”
Why she kept saying their names as if that would suddenly ring a bell, I didn’t know.
Taking a sip of my lemon drop before setting the glass down, I inquired, “Who is that? Why do you keep saying Godfrey as if that is supposed to mean something?”
“Um, Ayan is one of the finest and most successful heavyweight boxers to ever like . . . fight.” Morgin shook her head at my ignorance of Ayan while biting one of the shrimps indecently.
I hated how much she used the word like and had yet to become immune to it like most people around us.
“Oh, . . . okay. I don’t really follow boxing.” I shrugged, eating my own shrimp.
“Me either, but I know every fine nigga in every sports league, that’s for sure.
Ayan is delicious, but so is his brother that you saw today.
Honestly, I would take either one. They have another brother too; fine as fuck.
He used to box, but he’s like faded away.
” She leaned back to allow the waitress to set our plates down.
“Faded away?” I questioned.
“Yep. He was just as big as Ayan, according to my dad, but this was years ago.”
“Why did he fade away?”
I didn’t know why that tidbit of information piqued my interest, but it did.
“Murdered another boxer for like, groping his girlfriend or something and went to prison. After that, no one has heard from him. Nigga was fine though.” She stuffed her face with the buttery lobster mashed potatoes.
“Gonna have to look that up when I get home,” I said, meaning to do just that. True crime was a guilty pleasure of mine.
“So are you gonna come with or let me go by myself?” Morgin poked her bottom lip out.
After a moment of quiet, I sighed, making Morgin squeal with delight like she always did when she got her way.
“I will go, Morgin, but I am not staying long. Parties, especially with rich, entitled men isn’t really my scene. Also, you have to promise that we will leave together.”
“What? What if Josias asks me to go home with him?”
“If you’re not drunk, then it’s fine, but if you are, you have to leave with me. And I will be driving. Final offer.” I peered deeply into Morgin’s eyes, watching her ponder on everything before rolling her eyes in capitulation.
“Fine, Miss Wet Blanket.”
“Good, Miss Wet For Everybody.” I chuckled at the way Morgin’s jaw fell at my insult before she joined me in laughter.
* * *
LATER THAT NIGHT . . .
“Hello?” I answered the phone after seeing my sister Serene’s name flashing across it.
“Hey, are you busy tonight?” Serene got right to it.
“I am actually. Why?”
“Is it important? Because I wanted you to watch the kids so Avant and I can go out.”
I could tell by Serene’s condescending tone that it didn’t matter if I was having brain surgery tonight, she would deem it unimportant.
We were close—as close as two siblings who were complete opposites could be—but often bumped heads because Serene had been conditioned by our parents to believe she was better than me.
She tried to make it seem like that wasn’t the case, but even small things like her calling on a Saturday assuming a twenty-something-year-old woman with no children didn’t have plans was just another way for Serene to let me know she didn’t think my life was anything of substance.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s important or not. Just know I already have plans. In the future, let me know ahead of time, Serene. You know I love my niece and nephew.” I eyed the outfit options I’d laid out on the bed.
I wanted to be cute but not too cute to where the men at the party would think I was hot and ready. I was hoping if I looked demure and uninteresting enough, them niggas would ignore me.
“If you love them so much, why can’t you cancel whatever it is you plan on doing? Avant and I need this date night. We’ve been working all week and damn near becoming ships in the night, Day.”
“I’m not gonna cancel. And I get you guys are busy, both being doctors and all, but I’ve been busy too. In fact, I worked earlier today,” I lied.