Remember Me (70 page)

mother dead in the family pool, of an apparent stroke.
She couldn't understand why people were always wanting to get to know her, connect with her. Trying to distract herself as she went about her mundane tasks, her thoughts wandered to something that had happened earlier that morning. She had been summoned to Cassandra Mortensen's suite, and she remembered how nervous she had been, thinking she was going to be either fired or reprimanded for something, but instead, had an unexpected surprise waiting for her.
Cassandra and her friends, Cynne' and Satin Johnson, stood looking at her like she was a rare, beautiful piece of bone china, as if they could see past the oversized, drab gray dress she had chosen to wear, along with her large afro and mousy features, which were devoid of any makeup.
“
LATASHA
, we have a surprise for you!” Cassandra addressed her like a long-time friend or baby sister. For the woman to be heavy with child, she certainly could move fast, and descended on her before she could say or do anything.
Before she knew it, the three attacked like a whirlwind, and by the time they finished, perming, curling, waxing, applying makeup, and dressing her in new attire, she looked like a completely different person, one she didn't even recognize herself. Suddenly, an uneasy feeling washed over her as she realized she was looking at a young version of her mother, before she had hooked up with her step-father.
For the longest time she stood looking at her reflection in the floor-length mirror, tears streaming down her cheeks. As she drank in the sight of her hourglass figure in the long, beaded dress, she wondered what her mother would think if she could see her.
Apparently worried that she had offended her somehow, Cassandra's motherly concern showed on her face as she fretted, “Oh, honey, don't cry, we just wanted to make you happy.” Hugging her tightly, Cassandra held her at arms length and gave her a warm smile. “Darling, you're such a good person, and you deserve to be pampered sometimes too.”
The women then helped her adjust the beaded dress, and gave her a pair of matching brown heels. Looking pleased, Cassandra handed her a gift card for a local day-spa. “This is for all your hard work on the wedding cake and cookies, we wanted you to know just how much it means to us.
In a rare display of affection, she hugged all three of them, touched that they had cared or even noticed how hard she had labored that morning. As a matter of fact, for the first time since she had began working for the family, she was glad that she had been noticed. Thanking all three of them as graciously as she knew how, she rushed out and practically ran to a guest bedroom she knew was unoccupied.
Once there, she looked in her own mirror, admiring the way her sable hair was now
relaxed, and laying in waves. For the first time since she could remember, she actually thought she looked pretty.
Later, as she went about the wedding preparations, she couldn't help but notice that her new look, coupled with the dark brown beaded dress, seemed to attract several male admirers Not only that, they seemed to be following her around, asking questions she was uncomfortable answering, paying unwanted attention to her.
One of the worst was Nicola, who seemed to find numerous plausible excuses to insinuate himself into her work space, to tell her about a flavor he thought she should use in the assortment of Italian cookies, supposedly giving his expert advice on every little thing. Earlier he had walked over to a table she was working at and touched the small of her bare back lightly, making a knot rise in her throat. He then leaned over and dipped his bejeweled pinkie in the mixture she was working on. Looking in her eyes as he slowly pulled his finger out of the batter, he put the tip of his pinkie in his mouth as if tasting it. Smiling suggestively (it could be nothing else, this, she knew) his eyes had brazenly appraised her from top to bottom, and his deep-timbered voice had addressed in her in a way that made her toes curl. “The chocolate is very good, but you must remember to balance the taste with hazelnut.”
“Yes sir.” she had replied in a near whisper, uncomfortable, yet aroused at the same time at the way his body was so close to hers, yet not touching her. She could feel his heat, that's how close he was.
Looking at her as if he was photographing her with his eyes, he said, “They should blend like lovers, making the scent and taste of their passion unique.”
She could do nothing but stare in his blue eyes for a moment, instinctively knowing that he could indeed fulfill the passion he spoke about, only in a carnal manner. But....remembering she had seen him whispering to other women as well, in much the same manner, she felt her defense shields rise again. Stepping away from him reluctantly, she said, “Mr. De Luca, I know you're a chef and I'm only a cook, but I know what I'm doing, sir.” Tilting her chin in defiance, she addressed her employer in a manner that had horrified her, as if an alien entity had suddenly possessed her and was speaking through her vocal chords. “Maybe you should go check on your own MAIN dish, that red-headed date you brought with you. Perhaps you should feed her some DATES before she dries up and blows away!” she had hissed, turning and glaring in the direction of the tall, swanky red-head who was decked out in a clinging, skimpy green dress. To her amazement, he simply chuckled, his muscular chest rumbling and his eyes smoldering more fiercely than ever.
“Oh my, the little kitten that usually scurries away when people approach her has now turned into a full-blown lioness! Growling and roaring at another kitty invading your turf? Well, after the wedding you can use your claws on me, Bella!” he laughed, then turned and strolled away casually.
“Ms. Latasha!” a voice was calling.
Shaking her head in a daze, she got her bearings and looked down to see Regan looking up at her, his little foot tapping impatiently. Blinking, she stammered, “Yes, hon?”
“I said the ceremony is starting in less than four hours, so Uncle Nicola said the cake and cookies should be prepared for the arrangement. And you've been put at the family table after the wedding, Uncle Nicola saved a seat for you himself.” he informed her as he glanced down at his clip board and put a happy-face sticker by her name.
The kid is almost intimidating, checking his plans off. Well, like father, like son....
she thought with considerable amusement. “Mmm...sure, sweetie, I would be honored to be seated with your family.” she lied. Waving to the mounds of cookies already on the table, she smiled and asked, “Would you like to try one?”
With a huge grin, he grabbed one of the red wedding knots. Taking a bite, he nodded his approval, then said, “Come on, Mr. Chris, the wedding party has to get together for pictures.”
With a heavy sigh, Chris took one last wistful look at her, knowing she wanted nothing to do with him, at least at the moment. But he was a patient man, and he knew that if he could persuade her to have a couple of drinks after the wedding, well, women were natural romantics. The drinks, watching other couples dance and kiss, he knew she would be prime for the taking.
From the
corner
of her eye, Latisha watched the man saunter off, and made a mental note to avoid him at all costs. As a matter fact, as soon as the wedding cake was brought out, she was leaving, to hide, and be forgotten.
                                               
*********************

Absentmindedly, Nicolas gave the cook unnecessary instructions on preparing the stuffed mushrooms. “Make sure you keep the ones with seafood separate. We wouldn't want someone who's allergic to seafood eating one stuffed with lobster.”
Nodding his head wearily, the cook held his tongue and wisely fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes sir.”
Dismissing the young man, Nicola walked to the other counter, his eyes never leaving the object of his desire, Latasha, who seemed intent, as usual, on ignoring him. Thanks to Cassandra and her friend's make-over, his Latasha, his little kitten, had turned into a full blown sex kitten. A real siren.
He had to admit that seeing her now in the kicky, figure-flattering dress that clung to her
lush frame like a second skin, made it nearly impossible to concentrate on anyone or anything other than her. He was also surprised by the jealousy he was feeling as he watched other men try to get her attention. He had never felt that way about a woman before, he simply was not the mooning type!
Che cosa e' errato con me! (What's wrong with me?)
He
wondered silently. He knew there was no way he would suffer with the awful disease called love!
It's probably because she ignores me....
he reasoned.
As he watched her bend to remove something from the large industrial oven, he felt his heart flutter and his manhood stiffen. The flaring handkerchief hem fell away, exposing her thick, sexy legs.
Madre dolce Mary! (Sweet Mother Mary!)
He wanted her, and watching the tall blond man earlier
(
Raidon's man
)
trying to chat her up and possibly seduce her made him hate the fact that he now had lots of potential competition. Apparently, now other men saw her the way he did, as a sexy, vibrant woman full of untapped passion. His little diamond-in-the-rough was being discovered! He knew in that moment that he simply had to discover what it was about Latasha Weeks that was fast becoming a burning obsession with him.
Almost as if feeling his eyes on her, she suddenly looked up at him, and neither moved for a moment. It was as if there was a deeper significance than a simple visual interchange, and both understood the meaning almost immediately. He planned to chase her to the ends of the earth, and she planned to run like the hounds of hell were on her heels.

                                                      Chapter 58
Cynne' pulled the dress straps up, trying to get herself back in order as she hurried to the room where the stylist had set up the makeup table. As she walked she caught the distinctive scent of pot coming from down the hall, and heard the unmistakable sound of two women laughing almost hysterically and coughing. As she followed her nose to the small sitting room (which was connected to the dressing room, just off the servants quarters' stairs) the heavy wooden door suddenly opened, and out stumbled Satin, along with a heavyset, older black woman, dressed in loud, flowing, colorful robes. She'd been introduced earlier to the woman (who sported a huge, Cleopatra Jones style afro) by Cassandra, and she remembered the woman's unforgettable name immediately, Mother Love. Cassandra had explained that Mother Love was none other than the one who had presided over her and Granger's first wedding, and it made sense to her that the woman should also renew their vows in their second ceremony.
“Hello again, young sister.” Mother Love greeted her as she walked past, the strong, pungent smell of pot nearly choking her.
Good Lord, that shit smells awful! Is it possible to get a second-hand high just from being near her?
She
couldn't help but wonder.
“Later, alligator.” Satin giggled, waving goodbye as the older woman sauntered down the hallway, humming a Jimi Hendrix tune and waving both hands in the air.
Looking at her grinning friend, who appeared to be on the upper floor of cloud nine, Cynne's eyes narrowed. Looking over her shoulder to make sure the older woman was out
of ear shot, she grabbed Satin by one arm and practically dragged her to the makeup room with her. Closing the door behind them and locking it, she whirled around to face her. “Satin! I can't believe you're actually toking at Cassandra's wedding! What the hell were you thinking, anyone could have caught you!”
“Oh, c'mon, lighten up, man!” her friend giggled.
Stomping to the makeup table, which seemed to hold hundreds of different types of cosmetics, her eyes perused the many bottles and jars until she finally found what she was looking for. Snatching up a bottle of body spray, she made her way back to where Satin stood, swaying ever so slightly on her feet. “Stand still! Let me spray you with this, before someone smells that shit on you! A powerful, famous lawyer like you, breaking the law like that! You ought to be ashamed!” she scolded as she took aim and sprayed the vanilla mist on her friend's dress.
Coughing and fanning fumes from her face with one hand, Satin wondered what the big deal was. Talk about a stink, well, now she smelled like a loaded brownie, and pot with vanilla bean just didn't mix! Besides, she and Mother Love had respected the other people's rights, by hiding in the servant's quarters to smoke the big blunt they had both needed to take the edge off before the ceremony. She herself hadn't smoked pot since her college days, and the stuff Mother Love had shared with her was obviously top shelf goods, as it had her feeling no pain. She hadn't felt so relaxed in years. Now all she wanted to do was grab some munchies before the ceremony, and here her friend was, screwing up her buzz! And it surprised her, she had never figured Cynne' to be a buzz killer.
“Stand still, I said!” Cynne' scolded again.
Another shot of Vanilla Bean hitting her dead in the face, she coughed again, waving her hand even more frantically as she tried to keep the mist from getting in her mouth. Looking closer at Cynne', her bloodshot eyes narrowed as she appraised her friend's own rumpled appearance.
Oh no, she's not standing there preaching to ME, after she's been off having a quickie!
She
thought as she noted the woman's braids. Earlier they had been done in an up-sweep style, but were now pulled up in a lopsided, messy ponytail. It looked as if she been caught in a windstorm. Glancing at her friend's dress, she saw the garment was wrinkled all to hell and back, from the waist down.
“What, what are you looking at?” Cynne' asked a trifle uneasily.
Satin's perfectly arched brow rose inquiringly as it dawned on her that she had seen Raidon Bishop earlier following Cynne' towards the wing of the mansion where the guest rooms were located, Cynne's among them. “Ohhhh....look who's throwing stones in a glass house, girlfriend! I may have been tokin', ol' girl, but your ass has been a pokin', isn't that right?” she snickered, knowing that if Cynne' skin was lighter she would be able to see her friend blushing. “Where's Raidon Bishop? I can't believe you've been screwing around at Cassandra's wedding!” she mocked, throwing her friend's words back at her as she began walking a full circle around her, taking in her disheveled appearance.
Opening her mouth to deny what Satin was accusing her of, her still kiss-swollen lips felt too good to even try, and she giggled instead, while her friend gave her a knowing smirk. “Let's just say Raidon would still have my ankles up to my ears
if someone hadn't...”
“EWWWW!”
Satin's voice cut her off as she held up one hand as if to ward off a smelly wino. “Too much information, girl.” she sniffed,
affecting
the look of a person who has caught a whiff of spoiled milk.
Trying to ignore the look, Cynne's eyes took on a devilish gleam. “Hell, he had my ass pinned against the wall, girl, with this damn dress practically up over my head. You
KNOW it had to be good for me to let him do that, the arrogant jerk!” Waving a hand to cool her face, she pressed forward with the blow-by-blow, stroke-by-stroke details. “Girlfriend, the things that man was doing to me...shit, he had me singing with the angels! Then right in the middle of the third act we had to stop! I swear he was hitting it so good I was ascending to heaven, and what happened? First, a knock on the door, and a few minutes later, his damn cell phone went off!” she fumed, stomping her foot like a petulant child. “His men called, saying someone had tipped off a bunch of paparazzi slime balls, you know, about the ceremony? Whoever the tipster was even told them how to get on the grounds undetected, from the woods. Well, according to one of the assholes they caught, anyway. If it hadn't been for a guard going around back for an unauthorized smoke, they would have gone completely undetected. Sooooo, Mr. Asian Spice, that's the pet name I gave my boo, had to leave and help his men try to find them all. No mean feat, either, considering there are hundreds of guests here. He thinks at least twenty managed to get on the estate, according to a couple of the outer perimeter surveillance cameras. Some of them even had ski masks on, can you believe it? Like grown men and women playing cops and robbers! I swear!”
From the way she was talking, Satin wondered briefly if Cynne' wasn't high from her good lovin' session, but not wanting to kill her 'love buzz', chose not to say anything. Shaking her head, she silently cursed the paparazzi. After all the couple had been through, the vultures couldn't even give Cassandra and Granger a little peace on their wedding day. She knew first-hand what they were like, she had dealt with them before while defending high profile clients. “Fucking cockroaches!” she spat.
“I wonder how they would like it if someone was following them around twenty-four seven, taking pictures and digging through their trash!”
“
Yeah, tell me about it.” Cynne' muttered.
Not wanting to talk about the bottom feeders, Satin went to pull out the pins she would need to put her friend's hair back up and in place. Grabbing a steam iron to smooth the wrinkles out of the dress, she plugged it into the nearest electrical outlet, then patted the chair closest to her and motioned for Cynne' to sit. “I just hope that Raidon and his men catch all the fuckers before the ceremony.” she mumbled as she worked her fingers through the tangled braids. “Well, I'm no stylist, but I think I can put you back together. We should hurry though, we have to be ready for the group pictures in about twenty minutes.”
“I hope they get them too.” Cynne' sighed, but doubted Raidon would get them all once they blended in with the guests. And there were dozens upon dozens of good places a person could hide in the mansion. “I told Raidon to call the police and have them all arrested for trespassing. They're distracting security from their main objective, protecting Cassandra and Regan from that lunatic Martina. Shit, I can feel it in my bones, that bitch isn't going to let today go by without trying some whacked-out shit. Nut jobs like her don't just go away. They're like the clap, they keep popping up over and over.” she said with a shiver, remembering the attempted hit and run in the nightclub parking lot, and just how deranged the woman truly was.
“Shit, don't I know it! People, and I use the term loosely here, people like her don't stop until they hurt you or you hurt them. Pain is all people like Martina Shepard understands. Folks like her just don't get it until you mess them up big time, and then they act all stunned and indignant when you fight back.” Satin said with a faraway look in her eyes, as if speaking from experience.
Finding her tone of voice odd, Cynne' looked at her in the mirror in silence for a moment, then felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. “Where's Stewart?” she asked in a soft voice. “I thought he was coming with you to the wedding? The last time we talked, you two were all into each other. He was practically living at your place, right?”
Snorting and rolling her eyes, she thought back to the last disastrous night she had spent with the immature young man. The argument had started over something as silly as the fact she wanted to stay in and work on some of her case files she had fallen behind on, and he wanted her to go with him to a frat party. After she refused to go he had called her a selfish bitch who didn't know a good thing (meaning him) when she saw it, and then, to add injury to insult, he slapped her several times. As he stormed out of the room he had told her that if she wasn't so pretty, he would have left her the first night after he’d had sex with her.
Still working on her hair in silence, for a moment Cynne' believed Satin hadn't heard the question, or had chosen to ignore it.
After a full minute of silence, she answered in a flat, emotionless voice. “We parted ways, it didn't end well. Little Stewie needs to learn a couple of lessons in life. And one of those lessons is that the only time it's acceptable for him to hit anyone is on the football field, and even then the recipient should be dressed out in in pads. And the last time I watched football, women didn't suit up and hit the field.”
As the full weight of the woman's words finally sank in, a thundercloud settled over Cynne's heart. Face suddenly ablaze with anger, her voice actually sputtered as she thought of the colossal effrontery.
“That....that MOTHER FUCKER!
Did he hurt you? I'm going to get Raidon and some of his men to....”
“Girl,
PLEASE
,
calm down!” Satin's voice, smooth once again, cut her off as she patted both her shoulders firmly in a placating manner. “He's not the first, and won't be the last man to underestimate me because of my size. And like the others, he learned the hard way
that size don't mean shit when I'm pissed! I was so mad I started to cut his ass up, but remembered it's a felony to stab a person in the back! Hell yes he hit me, and yes, it hurt, but his sorry ass got the worst end of the stick, I can tell you that!” Standing to her full, 5'2 height, she looked her friend in the eye and said, “Where he really fucked up was afterwards, when he had nerve enough to lay his sorry ass down on my bed like nothing had happened. He's probably still trying to pick that pan of hot grits off his ass and back! He was screaming like a little bitch! And when my daddy heard what happened, he drove right down to that
BOY's
football practice the next day and stomped a mudhole in his ass, right in front of his coaches and teammates. Told them all what he did to me, and then dared anyone to stop him! No one even tried.”
In complete awe of the feisty little woman, Cynne's eyes grew wide with surprise and admiration. “No you didn't throw hot grits on him!” she laughed so hard spittle went flying from her mouth. She could just picture the strapping young athlete as he danced around screaming, trying to get the grits off. “Shit, I haven't heard of anyone doing that since I was a little girl!”
Laughing with her, Satin turned her around so she could finishing pinning up her hair. Even though her pride still ached from the slapping around she had endured at the hands of the young hothead, she was still proud of the fact she hadn't let him get away with it, as so many women seemed to do.“Shiiiiit! My Granny said when a man raises his hand to you he means to scar and scare you, assholes like him try to control you through fear. She advised me do whatever I had to do to get even with a prick like that if I ever ran across one. I bet he'll think twice....no, TEN times, before he ever lifts a hand to another woman. That's why I threw hot grits on him, to teach him that I wouldn't take his shit. And from what I've been told, that shit sticks to the skin and burns like hell, especially if you put butter and salt in them. It burns and stings at the same time.”
Laughter subsiding, Cynne' looked in her friend's eyes through the mirror and said in a soft voice, “I'm sorry he turned out to be such a frog, I know you liked him, a lot.”
Clucking her tongue, Satin dismissed any warm feelings she had had for the bastard. Although a small bit of anguish and regret seared her heart, she refused to admit her true feelings, which was that she secretly wanted to find a man who could take her mind off Brian Lemont. And she had thought, at least for a short time, that Stewart could have been that man. “He was something to do, a sprinkle of rain in the midst of a dry spell. I think I'm laying off men for a while, there's been too long a line of losers even before I met Stewart.” Finishing her work, she stepped back, admiring it. Grabbing one braid on each side of Cynne's head, she twirled each of them around her two index fingers.