This Life: A Novel (20 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

June 23

New York
,
New York

In the morning Blake
found herself all over the news. There was the announcement of her charity’s
first program. With the success of her launch, she decided to add a local grant
program for Black female college grads who wanted to start their own
businesses. Along with this good news, unfortunately, there was also a
disclosure that Blake Bertrand and her ex-husband, Lang Bertrand, were being
investigated by the FBI for alleged Mafia dealings.

Before she even arrived
at the NBC studio for the day’s work on
The Takeover
, her BlackBerry
rang with the caller ID showing that J-Lo wanted to talk to her. She took a
deep breath and pressed the Talk button.

“Good morning, this is
Blake Bertrand speaking.”

“Hi, Blake, Jennifer’s
publicist here.” There was a brief silence, filled with an awkwardness that
hurt Blake’s ear worse than a scream. “Uh, first, congratulations on all the
money you raised for charity yesterday.”

“I couldn’t have done
it without you and Jen. Jennifer’s work as spokeswoman has been superb, and
donating some of her time for auction was a tremendous help too.”

“Yeah. About that…
Listen, I know you’re having a rough time, but I’ve got to know. This stuff
about you working for the Mafia, is it true?”

“No. I give you my
word, that’s got to be something Lang was doing in secret. This crap is as much
a surprise to me as it is to everyone else.”

There was silence again
for a moment or two, and then the publicist said, “Okay. I believe you, Blake.
We’ll stick with you…unless it gets so bad we’re in danger of going down with
you. I hope you understand.”

“Of course.” Her call waiting
beeped, and Blake said, “Thanks for asking me before deciding what to do. I’d
better take this call, though, it may be my attorney.”

“Sure. Good luck.” The
publicist clicked off.

Much to Blake’s
astonishment, caller ID said her next caller was Kenton Rhodes. She pressed
Talk and said, “This is Blake.”

“Hi, Kenton Rhodes
here. I’d say good morning, but I have a feeling it isn’t.”

She gave voice to a
mirthless laugh. “You’re so right about that.”

“I’m calling to let you
know that Torres and I discussed the new development last night. You see,
usually when our firm has a case that’s going through the federal courts instead
of
Florida
’s, I’m the attorney who
handles it. But I can’t represent you, because… Well, you know why, I hope.”

“Yeah. I get it.” Blake
felt stinging tears welling up in her eyes. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll
start looking for a new attorney.”

“Wait! I wasn’t done
yet.” Kenton talked faster. “I’m going to call a good friend of mine from law
school. She’s one of
Florida
’s best federal criminal defense attorneys. I’ll ask her to
partner with Torres on representing you.” He hesitated and added, “If that’s
okay with you, that is.”

“Oh, Kenton, it’s more
than okay! I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for this.” A
tear spilled from her right eye as the taxi stopped at the NBC studio, but now
it was a warm and gentle tear of relief.

“I’m glad to help.
Listen, I’ve got to get going, and I’m sure you do too, but I’ll be sending you
something later. It’s a little video of Lionel that I made last night. He’s
putting together a jazz rock band, and they sound really good.”

Blake smiled. “I can’t
wait to see it. Thanks, Kenton.”

“My pleasure. Keep your
chin up.” He clicked off, and Blake went into the studio actually feeling like
her luck was turning around at last.

#

That feeling was
reinforced during her lunch break, when Blake finally looked to see who the
winner of the auction for an afternoon with her turned out to be. It was the
person who’d chosen to bid anonymously, but now that the auction had ended, the
bidder’s identity was revealed: Her afternoon would be spent with Tanaya Steele,
a singer and actress who was a current sensation on the pop charts, heartbroken
by her father’s death, and desperately needing something that brought pleasure
to her life. Tanaya’s feel-good music had certainly done that. But it had
definitely been a while since she indulged in anything but jazz.

“I can’t believe my
luck,” Blake confided to Antonio. “Tanaya Steele just paid $72,000 to spend an
afternoon with me! I’d pay that much to spend an afternoon with her!”

Antonio lowered his Ray-Bans.
“You might want to call her and schedule the meeting. She’s waited all night
and all morning to hear from you, already.”

“Jesus, you’re right.”
Blake tried to tap Tanaya Steele’s phone number into her BlackBerry, but her
fingers were trembling with excitement. “Here, could you put the number in for
me as I read it out?”

Antonio dialed the
number for her, and as he handed the BlackBerry back to Blake, she heard Tanaya
Steele’s unmistakable voice say, “Tanaya Steele talkin’, but who am I talkin’
to?”

Blake swallowed hard
and managed, “Tanaya Steele, this is Blake Bertrand. Is this a good time to
schedule our afternoon?”

“You bet it is! I’m
between jobs for the next couple of weeks, so girl, just choose a day and time
and place. I’ll be there.”

Thinking fast, Blake
realized the current week was filled with too many obligations. “Next week
sometime? Except for Wednesday, name your preference and I can make it happen.”

“How about Friday? I’m
hoping you’ll feel like dinner when the afternoon ends.”

“Sounds good! What
would you like to do?”

“Let’s go shopping.
This is the only chance I’ll ever get to buy clothes with one of the world’s
most beautiful women to give me advice.”

“You flatter me, but
you’re on.
Saks
Fifth Avenue
to start with sound okay to you? About
one o’clock
?”

“Girl, it’s a date. I’ll
see you there and then!”

Blake pressed End Call,
feeling giddy.
Shopping and dinner with Tanaya Steele! Things really are
finally getting better for me!

#

June 26

New York
,
New York

Wednesday she’d
eliminated Nathan Moore from competition in
The Takeover
, and she’d
hustled to do all the mentoring sessions with the remaining nine contestants by
noon
Friday. At
two o’clock
she was due to attend
the first post-launch board of directors meeting of Mentors & Protégés. She
and Antonio ate take-away seafood pad thai from Red Egg for lunch, Blake
reviewing her notes for the meeting and Antonio watching the people in Times
Square.

“Hey, Blake. Sorry to
interrupt, but I’ve been wondering something.”

She looked up from the
Docs2Go file she’d been studying on her BlackBerry. “What’s that?”

Antonio’s eyes were
unreadable behind his Ray-Bans. “Have you seen or heard anything out of Brett
Skeet this week?”

Blake shook her head. “No,
only that he’s called out sick every day.”

“That’s odd.” Antonio
finished off his meal and tossed the empty carton in a nearby street corner
garbage can.

“You think so? I
figured he’s just working some new scam and can’t be bothered to show up for
errand-boy wages.”

Shaking his head,
Antonio said, “Not like his type. Con artists who’ve found a better gig either
quit a low-paying job or do a disappearing act. They don’t keep calling in sick
unless they’re trying to hang onto the job until something better comes along.”

“Well, he’d better be
at work Monday or have a doctor call to confirm he’s not able to come to work
yet. NBC won’t hold his job open forever. Just too many other people who’d be
glad to get it.”

Blake finished her
lunch, tossed her empty carton in the garbage, and she and Antonio walked to
the hotel room where she’d rented a conference room for the meeting. Thomas
Mills sat at the conference table, Robin Love by his side. He beckoned Blake to
him as soon as she entered the room, and she forced herself not to smile.

“Since we have a few minutes
before the meeting starts, I just thought I’d ask,” Thomas said. “Have you got
a plan to make the Wishman Spears profitable in a year?”

For answer, Blake
dropped a thick manila envelope on the table in front of Thomas with a thunk
that echoed in the room. “All the details are there, plus six months’ worth of
advance booking requests for when it’s open for business. I sent copies to the
other investment partners yesterday by overnight mail. You can spend the
weekend discussing among yourselves.”

“Hi, Blake,” said
Robin.

“Weird acoustics in
this room,” said Blake. “Sometimes it’s like you hear someone talking when
there’s nobody there.”

Robin bit her lip to
keep from crying as Blake began speaking to the board of directors. Blake felt
a pang of remorse, but she told herself,
I told her to stay away from Margot’s
husband. She made her choice, and she can live with the consequences.

#

After the meeting
ended, Blake found two voicemails waiting for her: one from her bank and one
from attorney Enrico Torres. She entered her password to listen to the message,
wondering what it could be about.
My bank never calls me. They just email
me.

“Ms. Bertrand, we
regret to inform you that the FBI has requested that a hold be placed on all
transactions you request, until further notice. If you need more information,
please call back at—”

She almost dropped the
BlackBerry in her haste to close that message and listen to the one from
Torres. “Hi, Blake, Rico Torres here. I’m sorry to tell you this, but this
morning my partner on your FBI case tried to deposit the retainer check you
mailed to her. Her bank informed her that there’s a freeze on all your accounts
and assets—”

“Fucking hell.”

One week of good
luck, and now there’s line of people waiting their turn to screw me over.
Again. When will this shit ever end?

Chapter Thirty-Two

June 27

New York
,
New York

Blake sat at her desk
after breakfast, her wallet removed from her purse, counting her cash. She’d
always kept a few thousand dollars in currency handy, just in case of
emergencies. Not enough to pay the next month’s rent for her
New York
penthouse apartment,
though. Only six thousand dollars stood between Blake Bertrand and a homeless
shelter.

In
New York
, six thousand dollars
didn’t last long at all. Blake had felt helpless before, but never about money.

Antonio knocked on her
door, although it was standing open. She looked up and asked, “Hi, Antonio,
what’s up?”

“I just talked to Blitz
Security. You’ve been a great customer, so they’ll let you run a tab for a
month while you try to straighten out the FBI.”

“Well, a month isn’t
long, but at least it’s something.” She stared at the wad of Benjamins in her
hand and murmured, “It’s looking like that month may be spent sharing a
cardboard box in an alley. That’s my biggest worry, just now.”

“You’ve got some rich
and famous friends. Why not ask for some help?”

“I’d sooner take a dive
off the veranda.”

“That’s foolish, Ms.
Bertrand. Most people in this country are just living from one week to the
next, one paycheck to the next. Do you think they never ask for help?” He shook
his head. “Here you’ve started a charity, and you don’t even know the meaning
of the word.”

Antonio turned around
and walked away, leaving Blake lost in thought.
Jesus, he’s right. There are
places in the world where I could live for years on six thousand dollars. Hell,
there are places in this country where I’d be good for a few months. Worrying
about how to pay rent is new to me, but it’s how most people live.
For a
while, she had no idea how long, she sat gawking at her handful of cash as if
it were a revelation…which she supposed it was.
Nobody should ever be in
serious danger of homelessness. Why do we let this shit happen?

Finally she picked up
her BlackBerry and speed-dialed Uncle Thorne.
I’ve got to get myself out of
this mess first. Then I can work on changing things.
When Uncle Thorne
answered with a sleepy “Heyyyy, Blake,” she began explaining.

#

July 1

New York
,
New York

Thanks to
Western Union
and Uncle Thorne, Blake
had enough money for rent, food, and taxis for July and August. Her six-month
lease expired then, and her own and her mother’s
Fisher
Island
condos were prepaid through the end of the year. No, her
life was not ideal, but at least she no longer faced homelessness. Too many
other Americans couldn’t say the same…as she now realized.

Brett Skeet had
returned to work on Monday, both eyes a vomit-colored mix of yellows and greens
and his right arm in a sling. Someone had obviously given him one hell of a
beating. Blake knew how that felt, thanks to Lang. In spite of everything, she
wanted to tell Brett that he had her sympathy, even share tips she’d learned
for relieving pain and speeding healing. Regretfully, she reached the
conclusion that she couldn’t risk feeling so much pity for him that she gave
him access to her again. So, although it took all her willpower to resist, she
didn’t speak to him.

However, after filming
of the fourth elimination on Wednesday, in which Blake told Miguel Lopez to
punch out the clock, Vanessa and Jerome requested a private meeting with her.
As soon as the door to Vanessa’s office was shut, Blake warned them, “If you’re
repeating your suggestion that I plan for Gabby Truitt to win, I’m still
determined to award the win to whoever deserves it most.”

“No, no, that’s not it
at all!” In spite of his protest, Jerome seemed to be trying to melt into his
chair.

“We just wanted to give
you a heads-up about Brett Skeet,” explained Vanessa. “First he was absent all
week, last week. Maybe it’s not his fault someone obviously beat the shit out
of him, but still without him we were short-staffed. Yesterday, though, he did
something unforgivable. We’re firing him this afternoon. You asked us to give
him a job, so we thought you’d like to know we can’t keep him anymore, and why.”

Blake bowed her head,
consumed by pity for Brett and angry at herself for feeling that way. “What did
he do yesterday?”

Jerome leaned closer to
her and whispered, “He told an advertising rep to go fuck himself.”

“Not just any
advertiser, either. One of the top companies buying ad time during broadcast of
The Takeover
,” clarified Vanessa.

“FedEx,” Jerome added.

She ran a hand through
her hair, needing the release of frustration. “I appreciate the warning. But
maybe I should tell him, since I’m the reason he’s been working here at all.”

Vanessa and Jerome
exchanged glances, giving the idea consideration. Finally Vanessa said, “Yes,
do that. I don’t mind being spared the hassle, that’s for sure.”

Blake nodded, got to
her feet, and with Antonio following her, she left Vanessa’s office in search
of Brett. She found him in the studio break room, sharing a table with Gabby
Truitt. That startled Blake for a moment, but even more surprising was that
Brett was eating what appeared to be a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
He’s
economizing. Shit, this is going to suck elephant turds.

She stood in the
doorway and waited for Brett and Gabby to notice her presence. They were
whispering to each other, but Blake couldn’t make out any of the words. She
wished Suki were there. The martial artist had such keen ears. They seemed
supernatural.

“Hi, Brett. I need to
talk to you.” She tried to look him in the eyes, but she just couldn’t do it. “Will
you come to my office when you’re done with your sandwich?”

“I can talk now.” Brett
popped the last bite into his mouth and followed Blake and Antonio into Blake’s
office.

Blake shut her eyes and
took a couple of deep breaths, bracing herself. She wasn’t braced yet when
Brett asked, “Am I fired?”

“I know the timing
couldn’t be worse, and I’m so sorry about that. But, yeah, Vanessa said
something happened yesterday, and this was her decision.”

“Thank God!” Brett
stood with an ear-to-ear grin on his face.

Blake wondered if she’d
been slipped a hallucinogen somehow. “What?”

“This is exactly what I
wanted,” Brett explained, hesitating at Blake’s office door.

“I don’t understand—”
Blake started, but Brett interrupted.

“Watch out for Lang,
Blake. He’s doing everything he can think of to fuck you up.” Brett pointed to
his slowly healing black eyes. “I disappointed him when I didn’t bring him
video of us having sex.”

“Oh. Jesus.” Blake’s
mind was a whirling chaotic mess. “How—”

Brett interrupted
again. “I need to vanish for a while, but I’ve heard him talking to some
people. So trust me just this one last time, Blake, and have some kind of
expert take a look at your accountant’s books. If they do it right, you should
have Lang by the balls.”

He opened the door and
sprinted out of the studio. Blake had to run to catch up with him. “Wait,
Brett!”

Bouncing on his toes,
Brett stopped, but he kept nervously looking around. “I really need to go,
Blake.”

She took a thousand
dollars out of her wallet and handed it to him. “I’m trusting you one last time.”

He flipped a wave at
her and got lost in the crowded downtown streets. Blake turned to go back to
the studio and found Antonio watching her.

“Was I an idiot just
now?” Blake tucked her wallet back into her purse, stomach churning as she
awaited the insightful bodyguard’s answer.

“No.” Antonio swept his
Ray-Bans off so she could see the sincerity in his eyes. “That dude doesn’t
tell the truth often, but this was one of the times he did.”

“I wonder how I can
afford an expert to look at my accountant’s books.” Blake puzzled over that as
she returned to her office and waited for her first mentoring session of the
week to begin.

#

July 3

New York
,
New York

Saks Fifth Avenue
occupied a whole city
block across from the
Rockefeller
Center
and stood a proud ten stories high, with flags mounted by
many of the windows. Blake always thought its exterior looked deceptively like
an office building.

Inside, however, was a
whole other world of opulence. Which, for the first time in her adult life,
Blake could not afford.

Tanaya Steele stood
near the information booth on the
Fiftieth Street
side of the ground floor. Blake almost didn’t recognize her
as the pop diva darling she was known for, because Tanaya was dressed in jeans,
casual blouse, sneakers, and an Italian silk scarf wrapped elegantly around her
head. She looked, in other words, like a middle-class woman ready for a
once-in-a-lifetime shopping splurge in one of the world’s most famous
department stores.

“Hey, girl, you look
fabulous as always!” Tanaya threw her arms around Blake in an enthusiastic
greeting.

Blake returned the hug
with equal enthusiasm, but felt obligated to be honest immediately. “Thanks,
but the way things have been going lately, I can’t afford to spend much money
today. In fact”—she eyed her Gucci clothes and shook her head—“I may have to
sell off my whole wardrobe to keep myself in groceries soon.”

“I’ve heard about all
the shit happening to you. It’s criminal the way everybody is doing you lately,
Blake, but you gotta keep your head up. The best revenge is keeping your
dignity intact.” Tanaya clasped Blake’s hand and led her through the ground
floor’s maze of cosmetics salespeople and perfume spritzers. Suki actually had
to walk fast to keep up with them. “Today, just forget all that, and if you
want anything, I’ll be glad to get it for you.”

“I couldn’t—”

“Stop me? No, you
couldn’t. Glad you know it.” Tanaya threw a wink over her shoulder at Blake.

For the next three
hours they explored every one of the ten floors of Saks, and soon Tanaya decreed
a rule: anything wearable that either of them looked at longer than five
seconds must be tried on. Blake found herself remembering her modeling days,
when she and Robin and a few other girls who enjoyed each other’s company used
to spend time off together shopping for bargain-but-stylish clothes, furniture,
even groceries. She’d forgotten how much fun it was to be with another woman.

That thought brought
back other memories that made Blake blush. She moved behind a packed rack of
blouses and hoped Tanaya didn’t notice Blake’s red face and wonder what Blake
could be thinking.

When Tanaya suggested
they go browse the lingerie boutique two blocks farther down
Fifth Avenue
, Blake eyed her bag of
Saks goodies that Tanaya had bought for her and shook her head. “Let’s do
something else. Please. I’m afraid you’d spend more money on me, and I don’t
even have anybody to wear lingerie for.”

“Now we’ve got to go
there, Blake. It’s when you’re single that you ought to get new lingerie. You
got to love yourself, so other folks can see you’re worth loving.” Tanaya
hooked an arm through Blake’s and escorted her out of Saks and down the street.
Suki followed them, blank-faced as always.

Two hours later Blake
was the proud new owner of an Agent Provocateur bathrobe made entirely of white
lace, a diaphanous rose pink silk bra, and knickers hand-crafted by Carine
Gilson. Tanaya had treated herself to an elegant jade-green-and-black silk
kimono and feathery lace bra and thong. “Talk about loving yourself,” Tanaya
said as the cashier bagged Blake’s sexy new garments. “If you don’t love
yourself in those, you just can’t love at all!”

Blake blushed again,
with nowhere to hide. Tanaya chuckled and clapped Blake’s shoulder. “Come on,
five hours of shopping has got me a little hungry and a lot thirsty. Let’s go
hit someplace with a good bar.”

“I don’t have a
preference.” Blake thought how that statement could be interpreted, and blushed
hotter than ever.

“I’ll take you to Otto’s
pizzeria. That’s my favorite place to go unrecognized and drink great wine and
eat great pizza.” Tanaya beckoned Blake to follow her, and hailed a passing
cab.

Within an hour, they
were seated at a table in a cheery Italian restaurant, drinking a red wine that
cost $200 per bottle. Blake had a potent buzz by the time the waiter delivered
their pizza, topped with asparagus and goat cheese. She’d trusted Tanaya’s
recommendation, and she didn’t regret it. This was the most delicious pizza she’d
eaten in her whole life, and it saddened her to think that probably nothing
like it could be found in
Miami
.