Champagne Life (17 page)

“Mimi!” he called again.

He turned on the hall light and rushed up the steps. I listened as he took the steps, two at a time, and then went into the hall bathroom, searching for me.

“Mimi?” he called again.

“I'm in here.”

DeShaun's footsteps got closer. A second later, he pushed open the bedroom door. “Hey, Babe, what are you doing in bed already? It's only nine-thirty. Why are you sitting in the dark?”

“Where have you been all day?”

DeShaun took off his shirt and tossed it into the hamper. “You didn't get my note?”

“No.”

“I left it downstairs on the table.”

“I didn't see it.”

“It doesn't matter,” DeShaun said. “I've got great news. I went to see the Herjavecs about a party they're having. I completely forgot about it, but when M.J. called this afternoon, he told me Mrs. Herjavec was looking for me. That should bring in some good money.”

“When did you talk to M.J.?”

“What?” DeShaun flipped off his shoes and stepped out of his pants.

“I asked when you talked to M.J. today.”

He walked into the bathroom and flicked on the light “I caught up to him on the road,” he yelled from the bathroom. He turned on the shower, pulled the curtain back and stepped in.

After his shower, he exited the bathroom wearing nothing but a terrycloth towel wrapped around his waist. “Are you sleeping?” he whispered.

“No.”

“Is everything okay, Mimi? You're acting strange. Why are you still sitting in the dark?”

“No, DeShaun, everything is not okay.”

He quickly came over and sat on the edge of the bed. “What's wrong? What happened?”

“I went back to the bank today.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Don't say anything, DeShaun. Listen, please. I went to the bank today. I was ready to cuss out Jeremy. Long story short, I found out he wasn't even the one who said anything. In fact, he even quit on my behalf.”

“So who ratted you out?”

“You know what? It doesn't even matter at this point. I ended up going to lunch with Jeremy and—”

“Why the hell did you go to lunch with him?”

“Would you stop talking for a second and listen to what I'm trying to tell you? I felt sick and then before I knew it, I passed out. The ambulance came and…it was all such a mess.”

“The ambulance? Are you okay? What happened, baby? Why didn't you tell me when I first came in?”

“The doctor said I probably had a panic attack due to stress. He ran some tests, all were negative so he sent me home.”

“That's good,” DeShaun said. “How do you feel now?”

“I don't know. Physically, I'm fine. Mentally, not so much. I saw the mail on the table. There were half a dozen overdue notices. Then, before I could even walk out the door, the nurse's station hit me with a bill for the ambulance for over eight-hundred dollars.”

“Eight hundred!” DeShaun exclaimed. “What the hell? And damn, couldn't they at least wait until you got home safely first?”

“That's not even the worst part. Since losing our jobs, we have no insurance. The tests they ran were over a thousand dollars.”

“Are you serious?”

“Does it look like I'm kidding? Something has got to give. We can't keep up like this. We're going to lose everything we worked for, DeShaun. I can't do that. We're getting notices about the house, we don't have enough money in the bank to get our phone turned on. Our credit cards are maxed out. We're broke, DeShaun. We are completely and utterly down and dirty broke. If we got jobs tomorrow with a million dollar salary, it'll take at least a month to catch up…and that's
if
we catch up before they take the house—our house. We're about to lose everything, DeShaun. Everything we spent years working to obtain, it's about to be gone. Poof! Just like that.”

“Take it easy, baby,” he said. “Don't get upset again.”

“How can I take it easy? You may be okay with living on the streets, but me, I kind of like having a roof over my head.”

“Getting upset is not going to help things,” he said.

“Stop it, please. I am not in the mood to be pacified with your don't-worry, be-happy, island speech. We're not in the islands where a tiki hut and a hot plate on the beach will suffice. We're in America, the real world.”

“I got the gig with the Herjavecs,” he said hopefully. “That'll bring some money in.”

“Big deal. You got some gig, serving rich folk again. So what?”

Defeated, he turned away.

“Oh, baby, I'm sorry. I only meant that you are so much better than that. I know you're doing your best, but, right now, that's not enough.”

“It's what I do,” he said.

“I know, I know. It's just that…I don't know. I guess I'm upset that I didn't get that job at the law firm and we so needed it right now.”

“Aw, man, Mimi. I'm sorry. When did you find out?”

“They never called, but you know how that goes. Don't call us, we'll call you.”

“That's their loss.”

“Their loss, DeShaun?” McIntyre and Roth probably ended up hiring some dim-witted moron. Here we are with no jobs, no health insurance and no prospects. So, if someone could explain the million-dollar question as to how it was
their
loss, I would be forever grateful because I can't see it.”

“You're frustrated right now,” DeShaun said. “I'll take care of everything.”

“If you could have, you would've done so already. I would have, too. We're stuck. The sooner we come to that realization, the better off we'll be.”

He sighed, shook his head and let his gaze drop to the floor, finally realizing it was the truth. Better to deal with the situation now as opposed to dealing with it after becoming homeless on Broad Street.

“DeShaun, baby, it's time we admit that we are officially desperate. We need to do something drastic and quickly.”

“Like what?” he asked the question but, at this point, he knew the answer.

“It will only be temporary. Until we can get back on our feet.”

“It's not a big deal, right?” DeShaun added. “She's an acquaintance and besides friends buy and do things for other friends. What's the big deal?”

“Exactly. And besides, she's one of those spoiled women who throws money around like it's nothing, right?”

“Right.”

“It will only be temporary. Until at least one us of gets a job.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Temporary.”

“This is the right thing for us to do under our circumstances. This is something that we have to do to stay afloat. We will be okay. You believe that, right?”

“Yeah.”

He gently laid me down across the bed and pulled up the covers. “We'll definitely be all right.” He lay down next to me on the bed, but spent the entire night tossing and turning almost as much as I did.

D
eShaun put on his best pair of black pants, a long-sleeved white shirt and a red bow tie he bought especially for the occasion. He slung his white apron over the passenger side of the car so it wouldn't get wrinkled in travel.

Tonight was supposed to be the surprise party for Mrs. Herjavec, but when she found out about it, she ended up practically planning the entire event herself. The requests were a mix of simple to over-the-top extravagance. The plans included black and white balloons and high-end delicacies, such as baby octopus and foie gras. She also wanted fireworks to shoot off exactly at midnight. Luckily, the Herjavecs had a huge backyard and an even bigger budget. Jenn had hired a twelve-piece jazz band and planned to set up four separate bars, including a cigar and dessert bar surrounded by a champagne fountain. Rough estimation had them around the sixty-five thousand-dollar mark, and this was just for a surprise birthday party, which wasn't even a surprise anymore.

For the past week, DeShaun and Naomi managed to pay a few bills with the final check from the bank. Two days ago, Stiles surprised DeShaun by calling and telling him he had a check waiting for him at the restaurant. His former boss had been strangely friendly, asking how he was doing and if he had found a job yet. DeShaun had lied and told him he had, which wasn't too far from the truth. After all, he was working this party tonight.

Upon hearing this news, Stiles wished him well. Maybe his former boss felt remorse for firing him, then again, maybe he didn't. It didn't matter anymore. One reason he told Stiles he found another job was because if DeShaun was ever asked back, he probably wouldn't have the courage to turn Stiles down. A week ago, when he and Naomi decided to proceed with what they referred to as “The Plan,” she had told him that he was better than the restaurant. Although it was good to hear her say it, he didn't need for her to tell him that—he knew he was, too.

He was doing this. He had to do what was needed to keep his family secure and intact.

He pulled up to the long, gravel-ridden driveway to the Drexel Hill estate. He spotted Mr. Herjavec's white Mercedes parked at the top of the winding drive. Mrs. Herjavec's silver Range Rover was inside the opened garage.

“DeShaun!” Mrs. Herjavec came running toward his car with a panicked look on her face. DeShaun did a double-take. She was wearing a short plush pink robe and a matching pair of slippers. That was it. She had her cell in her hand. “I am so glad you came early. These stupid caterers are not here yet and neither are the bottles of Dom I ordered last week.”

“Did you call them?” DeShaun asked.

“Of course, I did,” she said, shoving her cell in his face. “The stupid idiots didn't call me back. I tried to call Berti but he's still at work.”

“Take it easy. Who's the caterer?”

“D'Antonio's.”

DeShaun had dealt with the owner, Nicholas D'Antonio, several times. Two months ago, Nick held a private party for his business partner at Stiles' restaurant. Nick had attitude, but, if you showed him the same attitude back, he'd step up.

“Relax,” DeShaun said. “I'll deal with that.”

“Thank you.” She slid the phone into the pocket of her pink robe. As she did, the robe tie came undone. Quickly, she pulled the tie together, but not before exposing a little too much.

DeShaun looked away. “You can go ahead and finish what you were doing. I'll take care of it.”

Her face turned bright red. “I'm so embarrassed,” she said, looking down at her outfit. “I rushed out here so quickly, I forgot I wasn't dressed.” She scurried back inside. Before she shut the door, she yelled, “Oh, and thank you so so much.”

“You're welcome.”

“Dude, what is up?” M.J. walked out from around the side of the house. He came up and gave DeShaun a friendly pat on the back. “Good to see you again, my man. Thanks for pulling me along on this gig. You know rent is due tomorrow, next week it's the light bill. It seems like it never ends for a brutha.”

“I hear you on that,” DeShaun said. “Listen, can you hold things down here? I need to help out Mrs. Herjavec with something. I shouldn't be gone too long, but, if I'm not back in an hour, have the rest of the guys start setting up. Tell them to put ten chairs at each round table and fifteen at the long table, which should be in the front, closest to the patio doors. All the silverware, knives, forks, napkins, everything, is in Mark's van. Show the guys how to properly set up.”

“No problem,” M.J. said, grinning. “So, you gotta help out the missus, huh?” He nudged DeShaun in the shoulder. “Don't worry, I got you.”

“Man, please. It's not even like that.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You go take care of that business and I'll keep it together here.”

DeShaun tapped his temple with his index finger. “Something's wrong up there, you know that, right?”

M.J. nodded toward the front door. “It's not me you need to worry about. It's the man eater you should keep your eye on.” He walked back around the side of the house and disappeared into the backyard.

Mrs. Herjavec came out of the front door, wearing a cream-colored casual jumper and matching pumps. Her long black hair was pulled up into a loose bun, high on top of her head. In that outfit, her tanned skin almost looked as dark as his. When she got closer, DeShaun noticed she wasn't wearing a bra.

“I changed as fast as I could,” she said, out of breath. “The guests should be here in an hour, so we have to hurry.”

“You don't need to go,” DeShaun said, heading toward his car. “I can handle this.”

She shook her head. “No, I want to go. I want to give that jerk a piece of my mind—in person.”

DeShaun looked over at Jenn. Her expression was hardly angry. When she saw him watching her, she broke out in a smile.

“Okay, I'm not
that
angry,” she admitted. “I wanted to get the hell away from all this chaos. I'm getting a headache.”

“Let's go.” DeShaun started walking toward his car but stopped, remembering he rode there on fumes. “We have to stop for gas, first. It'll only take a second.”

She shook her head. “We don't have time. We'll take my truck.” She made a beeline toward her Range Rover in the garage. He followed. She reached into her purse and produced a set of keys. “You drive. I have no idea where we're going.” She tossed the keys to him.

They hopped into the truck. DeShaun looked down at all the gadgets and accessories. “Are you sure you want me to drive, Mrs. Herjavec?”

“I trust you,” she said. “And I thought I told you to call me Jenn.”
She reached over and pressed a button on the dash and the car started. “Is the place far?” She reached into her purse and pulled out her sunglasses. She also pulled out a cigarette and lit up.

DeShaun put the truck in reverse. “Not really.” He studied her for a second, not realizing that she even smoked.