One Toe Out (A Complicated Love Story) Read online

“Thanks,” Simone said. J.T. didn’t bother to acknowledge her.

  Simone had worked in Corporate America a while ago for six months, as a receptionist in the same affluent neighborhood, Buckhead. And she hated it, she couldn’t go to the bathroom without telling half the office where she was going. And the office politics were enough to make her quit, which she did. But her former place of employment was nowhere as nice as this office. Plush furniture filled the reception area, fresh cut flowers decorated the room and the neutral color palette oozed sophistication. The view of Buckhead was breathtaking and this office was just a few short blocks away from Lenox Mall and Phipps Plaza, two malls known for celebrity sightings and its pricy shops.

  Simone was debating whether to take the receptionist up on her offer for coffee when Marcella stormed into the office. That’s the best way Simone could describe her entrance. Even though the office was on the tenth floor, she brought the brisk April air in with her. Simone wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered.

  With a curt hello, she marched to her office and J.T. and Simone trotted after her.

  She immediately started talking as soon as they sat down. Simone had never seen anyone move so fast. She whipped off her black leather jacket, pulled off her earrings, then strode over to her wet bar, where she reached into her mini fridge and pulled out a bottle of Perrier. “Your travel arrangements have been made, you leave for Vegas tomorrow. Barry signed off on the team’s jet,” she called over her shoulder.

  Simone turned to her fiancé. “What? Why are we going to Vegas?”

  Marcella settled behind her desk. She ran her hands through her luxurious black hair, as though calming herself. “You haven’t told her yet?” Marcella scowled at J.T. “We’re moving things up just a tad. You two are getting married tomorrow in Vegas.”

  “What?” She knew that they weren’t going to have a huge five hundred person wedding and reception but she wasn’t expecting a quickie wedding in Vegas. “But I want my mom there.”

  “As long as she can be packed and ready to go by tomorrow, she can ride the corporate jet with you and J.T. if not, oh well,” Marcella said with a shrug then took a sip of water.

  I’m getting married tomorrow? Anger struck Simone as though it was lightning and she turned her simmering rage on Marcella. “Oh fucking well?”

  J.T. rested his hand on her thigh and squeezed it. “She didn’t mean it like that, did you Marcella?”

  His publicist sighed. “Of course not. I’m sorry, Simone, I can be a bit brash at times, please excuse me. I’m so used to working with men and telling it like it is that I find it hard to soften myself to a woman.”

  “Yeah whatever,” Simone muttered.

  “Oh, and Ms. Chanté will be joining you two on the jet.”

  “Who’s that?” Simone asked.

  “A stylist. She dresses celebrities.” Marcella rattled off several A-list and some B-list celebrities. “And right now she’s working with Rihanna, and you know how gorgeous she looks. She has some free time, so I convinced her to work with us.”

  “I don’t need anybody to dress me,” Simone snapped.

  Marcella pointedly looked at every piece of Simone’s outfit mentally taking it apart and Simone suddenly felt as though she had picked up her clothes from a garage sale. “Yeah you do,” she quipped, then buzzed the receptionist. “Hey,” she called into the intercom, “call Mannie Banks and get him on the plane tomorrow.” She clicked off.

  Simone was afraid to ask who the latest addition to the trip was, but she was curious. “Who’s that?”

  “A hair stylist. You need your hair done.”

  “Shit! Is there anything else I need to change about myself?” she barked and Marcella raised a perfectly threaded eyebrow.

  “I’m still checking,” she said smartly.

  “Bitch!” Simone shot at her.

  “That’s what it says on my thong,” she quipped.

  Chapter 7

  J.T. and Simone walked hand-in-hand to the small wedding chapel on the strip, his entourage and her mother strolled a discreet distance behind them. The limo had dropped them off just moments ago. Down the street and barreling towards them was a small cluster of paparazzi, Marcella had tipped them off. Which Simone had quickly learned was her modus operandi. Not only did she play her and J.T. like puppets, but the public too.

  Simone was glad to be off the plane, during the whole ride, she felt like project Simone. Ms. Chanté, who was really, James Johnston from College Park, Georgia, had brought along racks of clothes that she wanted Simone to try on. The exhilaration of riding a private jet was lost on her. Between modeling outfits for Ms. Chanté, Mannie pulling at her hair, and Marcella barking orders at her, she wanted to open the nearest emergency exit and jump the hell out.

  J.T. squeezed her hand but continued walking along as through the group of people racing toward them was invisible, Simone almost stumbled and clung to her soon-to-be husband using him as a barrier against the oncoming onslaught.

  Seven men, bored down on them with their cameras aimed at the couple and microphones attached to six feet poles dangling over their heads, surrounded them.

  “Where are you going J.T.?”

  “I heard you were getting married.”

  “Who is she? I don’t recognize her?”

  “Where’s that Super Bowl ring?”

  “Is this because of that video?”

  The questions came at them like darts and J.T. handled it all with aplomb. He came to a stop to address them, by now they had reached the chapel. “I’ll see you in an hour.” With a quick wave, he, Simone, and the group stepped into the chapel, where they were greeted by Moiré the wedding coordinator. She directed J.T. and Marcella to go one way, then she led Simone and the rest of the group in the opposite direction.

  “Can’t have the groom see the bride before the ceremony, can we?” she trilled before opening the door to a small room. “This is where you’ll be getting dressed. Take your time. Your husband-to-be has purchased the chapel for the entire day,” she said, then lowered her voice and whispered, “he wanted absolute privacy.”

  Lillian dabbed at her eyes. “You look so beautiful, Simone.” Lillian lightly touched her daughter’s arm, the only place she was sure she wouldn’t spoil anything on her daughter’s stunning ensemble. She didn’t want to kiss her because she didn’t want to ruin Simone’s makeup and she didn’t want to hug her because she didn’t want to wrinkle her daughter’s wedding dress.

  “Thanks Mom. I know this isn’t the wedding you envisioned for me.”

  “Not exactly, but I always knew that you were going to be beautiful. You’re stunning.”

  “I think so too. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Ms. Chanté and Mannie did a fabulous job. They made me look like a model.” Fake eyelashes, blush, lipstick and four different colors of eye shadows were expertly applied to her face. Simone had bawled when Mannie had cut off a foot of her hair, leaving it shoulder length and making her feel naked. Over the years, she had used her hair to shield her face from the world. But now three hours later, she could admit that she loved it. Mannie had shown her the different styles that she could wear it. Now it was pulled back into a sleek chignon.

  Marcella stuck her head in the room. “Let’s go,” she barked.

  Simone and Lillian exchanged glances. “Well good luck with that one,” Lillian whispered. “I’d keep an eye on her.”

  Simone snorted. “I got both of them on her.” The wedding march rang out. Simone squeezed her mom’s hand. “Ready?”

  Fifteen minutes later, Simone hugged her new husband. They slipped away into a corner for some alone time. “Are you doing okay?”

  “I am. You look beautiful,” he said. Even though it wasn’t a love match, she still managed to look like a blushing bride.

  “You’re not looking bad yourself.” Her new husband had on a custom made black suit.

  “Are you having any second thoughts? Any regrets?” J.T. asked softly
.

  Simone quickly shook her head no, then after seeing J.T.’s look of skepticism she opted for the truth. “This isn’t how I imagined my wedding to be like,” she confessed. “I always envisioned my family and friends celebrating with me, and that I marry a man who was heads over heels in love with me and can’t keep his hands off me,” she finished, and shocked herself and J.T. by bursting into tears. “I’m sorry.”

  Moiré rushed over with a box of tissues. “Here you go.”

  “I’m sorry,” Simone muttered, embarrassed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  Moiré smiled and gently patted Simone’s leg. “I do, you’ve just gotten married, it’s a very emotional experience, all brides go through it. Just when you think you’re going to escape the tear fest, it hits you. And don’t worry about crying, you’re going to have many more occasions to cry, your honeymoon, when you have your first baby, then the second child, then the third, and when they go off to school. Here you take these, you’re gonna need them.” She placed the box of tissues in Simone’s hands, before Simone could think of anything to say, she got up and strolled away.

  J.T. took the tissues out of his wife’s hands and placed the box beside them on the pew. “Hey, I’m sorry. We can get the marriage annulled. You can keep the money, the car and the jewelry, I’ve already given you and I’ll still give you a million dollars. There won’t be any hard feelings trust me. I won’t be mad. I don’t want you to end up resenting me for keeping you from the life you always wanted.”

  He looked so sad that she immediately regretted her outburst. “I’m fine. If we’re both honest with ourselves we’d admit that this isn’t how either one of us pictured our wedding day. But for better or for worse this is it. I made you a promise and I plan on sticking to it,” she said, while dashing her vision of her dream wedding and replacing it with an image of two million dollars in her bank account.

  “Thanks Simone.” Then he did something so unexpected and sweet that it nearly brought her to tears a second time. He leaned forward and pecked her tenderly on the lips.

  Suddenly a man burst through the chapel doors and raced in. He was just a blur as he ran up the aisle, then looked wildly around when he didn’t see a bride and groom.

  “Hey, I’m over here!” J.T. called.

  The man turned towards J.T.’s voice and grinned broadly when he saw him. Simone inhaled sharply and she swore that a beam of light reflected off his perfect white teeth. She watched transfixed as he swaggered over to them, she noticed that he nodded politely at Marcella but didn’t stop to talk to her. He was tall, as tall as J.T., tanned and had blond hair. The closer he got to them, her fascination turned to disbelief, he looked shockingly similar to her high school sweetheart, Sean.

  The man stopped in front of them and J.T. stood up and they did the Black man’s handshake.

  “Thanks for coming man.”

  “It looks like I missed the ceremony. I’m sorry, but traffic was a bitch.”

  Simone was watching the exchange and decided that the man didn’t resemble Sean as much as she thought he did. The only thing they had in common was their race, they both were White, but this man was better looking and in better shape.

  “No prob. Let me introduce you to my wife. This is Simone.”

  “Kirk.”

  “Hi. Thanks for coming.” Simone glanced at J.T. for elaboration.

  “Kirk is not only one of my best friends but he’s my accountant and financial advisor, he gives me my allowance. Whatever you want to call him, he keeps track of all the money,” J.T. joked.

  “It’s nice to meet you. Sorry you missed the ceremony, it was very nice,” Simone said politely.

  “Yeah, and you missed the chance to be my best man. But I have some good news.”

  “What?”

  “He’s flying to Turks & Caicos with us.”

  Simone gripped her bouquet. “He’s coming with us on our honeymoon?”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry; I hope I’m not causing any problems. J.T. just called me with the news and we do have a lot of paperwork to do, so he decided that I come along on the honeymoon, since…”

  Since it’s not a real honeymoon, she wanted to finish. “No, you’re fine. I’m sorry for even saying anything. I guess I have wedding jitters,” Simone said. She squeezed J.T.’s hand. “I’ll be right back, I need to run to the ladies’ room before we go out and greet the paparazzi.”

  Marcella had been watching Simone with eagle eyes; she excused herself and followed Simone into the ladies’ room. She didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “You just got married,” she said sharply.

  “I know that. What’s wrong with you? Are you going to try and control what happens on our honeymoon?” Simone replied just as sharp.

  “I saw the way you were looking at Kirk. I know that you can have as many lovers as you want, as long as you’re discreet, but Kirk is J.T.’s friend. They’ve known each other since college. Kirk is one of the few people that he actually trusts. And I don’t want you fucking up their relationship, by trying to fuck Kirk.”

  “You sure like the word fuck. Why don’t you do it to yourself? You can’t control who I sleep with.” She turned away from the sink and walked to the exit. Before opening the door, she faced Marcella, “And for the record, I don’t want Kirk.”

  Aleesha, J.T.’s assistant, who Simone had not had the opportunity to meet yet, had arranged for a rental car for them to drive to their hotel. When they got in the car, J.T. turned to her.

  “Have you ever taken acting classes before?” J.T. asked.

  “No, why?”

  “Well, this is it and you’re gonna have to act your ass off. From now on every time we’re in public we’re gonna hold hands, touch each other affectionately, laugh and smile at each other as though there isn’t anyone else in the world and occasionally we’re gonna have to kiss. Do you think you can handle that?”

  Simone took in her gorgeous husband, his chestnut colored skin, his coffee colored eyes, outlined with extra-long eyelashes, and his full luscious lips surrounded by a goatee. “Oh, I think I can fake it.”

  After eating dinner at a nearby restaurant and kissing and hugging each other while pretending that the clever employees and patrons weren’t snapping pictures of them with their phones, they drove over to the Four Seasons Hotel. The hotel suite had left Simone breathless with its beauty. While J.T. nonchalantly moved around the suite as though it was his own living room, Simone and Lillian had raced around touching, oohing and aahing over every little inch. The room had been configured into a huge three-bedroom suite, so that Simone, J.T. and Lillian each had their own bed.

  It was three o’clock in the morning and Simone couldn’t sleep. She pulled back the curtains on the windows and stared below. It was as though she was watching a carnival, with a bird’s eye view of The Strip, it was still bustling as though it was three o’clock in the afternoon.

  “I’m on my honeymoon,” she whispered. J.T. and her mom were asleep. J.T. had wanted to gamble, but Marcella had reminded him, in her brash way, that it was his honeymoon, and it wouldn’t look good for him to be out gambling when he should be fucking his wife.

  She glanced at her wedding ring set, J.T. had given her a three carat wedding band, with the inscription: To my secret keeper.

  She glanced around the sumptuousness of the room. “I want this life. I’m never giving it up. Never!”

  The following evening Simone, Lillian and Kirk were sitting on the terrace of their villa in Turks & Caicos Islands sipping drinks and enjoying the breathtaking view.

  “I can’t believe this,” Lillian said for the millionth time. They had ditched the Jaguars’ private jet, Ms. Chanté and Mannie in Vegas and J.T. leased a jet to fly them to Turks & Caicos. As soon as he signed his one hundred million dollar contract with the Jaguars he decided that he no longer wanted to fly commercial. He either travelled by private jet or a tricked out tour bus.

  As usual, the efficient Aleesh
a had reserved the four-bedroom Villa for them. As soon as Simone saw it, she nearly wept from the beauty of it. Even though it was surrounded by the turquoise blue Caribbean Sea, it had its own private pool.

  While the concierge unloaded the rental car and brought their luggage in, Simone and Lillian, raced from room to room oohing and aahing over every little thing. Each bedroom had its own bathroom each equipped with a Jacuzzi tub. The master suite had its own private balcony overlooking the sea. There was a huge great room with travertine flooring and vaulted ceilings, there were plasma TVs throughout, the kitchen had stainless steel appliances with black granite countertops.

  At the first opportunity she got, Marcella had Simone and J.T. stage some photos. She told them to frolic in the water and to walk hand-in-hand on the soft white sand beach. Then when a spontaneous sand fight erupted between them, she was beyond happy. She had tipped off some local reporters that J.T. and Simone were in Turks & Caicos and they did what she knew they would, they snapped pictures of the athlete and his new wife. The exclusive photos appeared on CMZ.com within the hour. Video footage of the couple was later shown during the ten o’clock news.

  Lillian stood up and stretched. “I think I need a nap. Is seven a good time for dinner?”

  “Yes Mom. That’s perfect. Enjoy your nap.” Lillian kissed her then practically waltzed out of the room. “Oh and dinner is casual tonight,” Simone called to her.

  Simone and Kirk enjoyed the silence. Simone loved her mother, but sometimes she talked too much and her constant chatter was irritating. J.T. and Marcella had been gone for hours and he had just called fifteen minutes ago to tell her that he won’t be back until late…very late.

  Simone finally said something. “So, where is he?” she asked and Kirk sighed. Simone wasn’t sure if he made that sound because he didn’t want to answer her or because he was upset because she broke the silence.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Yeah, I do, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

  “You sure you want to hear it?” he pressed.