Divine Intervention (21 page)

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Authors: Lutishia Lovely

BOOK: Divine Intervention
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43
It’s A Small World
“O
oh, baby, you look good.” Kiki gazed appreciatively at the man standing before her, looking suave and stylish in a casual black suit.
“Yeah, if you say so.” Rafael’s response was subdued, but he too liked what he saw when he looked in the mirror. They were at a high-end boutique on Sunset Boulevard, outfitting Rafael for what Kiki described as a Fourth of July kickoff party. She had assured him that everybody who was anybody would be there. “But I don’t know about this shirt you picked out. I think I’d rather wear a button down, a few buttons open, and no tie.”
“But that is such a common look, El. If you’re going to be the new Mr. Hollywood, you’ve got to stand out, make a statement.”
“Ain’t nobody trying to be Mr. Hollywood, girl,” he threw over his shoulder as he walked back into the dressing room.
His tone was serious, but Kiki didn’t miss the smile that followed. She was still trying to wrap her mind around what had happened in these past three weeks. That she’d been set to film in Kansas City a week after the wedding was a coincidence that had been scheduled before she’d asked to participate in Rafael’s wedding. But there was no way that she could know that 1) the wedding would start but would not finish; 2) that she’d be able to get Rafael a walk-on part in her movie; 3) that because of Rafael’s natural talent for acting, his walk-on role would expand to a small but significant character in the independent film; and 4) that she’d fall in love with him. Before now, she would have scoffed at the thought of love at first sight. Like many twenty-somethings, she’d seen her share of heartbreak, had kissed a slew of frogs. But from the first night that she spent with Rafael, she’d detected a prince. And while his ex-fiancée had been too dumb or naive or misguided to realize this fact, Kiki intended to be his new and only princess.
 
“We don’t have to stay long, baby. But I told my boys that we’d show up.” Kelvin reached over for Princess’s hand. She didn’t pull away, but turned her attention out the window. “Bran and Joni are going to be there. And my boy X-Factor is rocking the mike. We’ll just do a walk around, pose for a couple pics, and bounce. I’m just as tired as you are, baby. I’m ready to head back to Arizona myself.”
Princess took a deep breath, and thought of the very valid reasons why she didn’t want to step back into the LA party scene. Some of Kelvin’s adoring public was bound to be here. She’d have to get used to women ogling him, ignoring her, and basically being thoughtless witches. She finally surmised that now was as good a time as any to develop the backbone she’d need as a professional athlete’s wife.
“When is the last time you partied here?” she asked him.
“A couple weeks ago.”
“Any particular woman we may run into that I should know about?”
Kelvin looked at Princess and tried to read the message behind her words. Her face was placid; she seemed to simply want an answer to the question, not the names, dates and phone numbers of the women he’d screwed since they’d broken up; a list that he’d be hard-pressed to put together if asked. A list that was too long, even by professional athlete’s standards. He’d bedded these women to try and get over Princess. To say that hadn’t worked would be an understatement. “I’ve only had one other steady girlfriend besides you and that situation ended some time ago.”
“Do you think she’ll be here?” Kelvin shook his head. “What about Fawn?”
“You know me and her never got down like that.”
“Please. You lived together.”
“The only reason she was with me as long as she was is because she lied about Kelvin, Junior’s paternity. Since finding out the truth about his real father, I haven’t had two words to say to her.”
“What about her? Is she still trying to be in your life?”
“I can’t help what women try and do, Princess. I can only be responsible for my actions. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—as many times as need be until you believe me. I want to be faithful to you. I’m going to be faithful to you. Okay?”
Princess turned, looked out the window. “Okay.”
After a moment of silence, he continued. “The rev looks good.”
Princess welcomed the change in subject. “It’s hard to believe that he just had brain surgery.”
The conversation continued to meander from one subject to the next until their driver turned onto a street lined with luxury vehicles: Mercedes, Maybachs, Jags, BMWs, various pimped out SUVs, and a couple Bentleys. They pulled into a circular driveway behind several limos. The driver got out and opened Princess’s door.
Kelvin looked at her. “You ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
She prepared to exit. He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you’re with me.”
Princess looked at Kelvin, the love of her life. “I’m glad to be here.”
 
The pre-Fourth of July party was being held at a home in the Holmby Hills, far above the lives of normal folk. The house was forty-two-hundred square feet of beautiful, plush, and don’t-ask-the-price furnishings. A couple hundred people milled about: in the home, on the patio, by the pool, and in the garden. When Kelvin and Princess arrived, the holiday celebration was in full swing. They weren’t five minutes into the house before Kelvin ran into another NBA baller, Princess saw a producer who worked at MTM, and then they ran into Brandon and Joni.
“What’s up, dude?” Brandon and Kelvin bumped shoulders.
“You got it,” Kelvin replied, looking around and noticing all of the fine and fly honeys sending rhythm his way. He remembered his promise to Princess, shifted his eyes away from the women and focused on talking to one of his best friends. “How long y’all been here?”
“About half an hour. It’s crazy, man. X-Factor is holding it down in the great room. That’s where the dance floor is—downstairs. The food is just down that hall, in the dining room. Don’t go upstairs unless you want to engage in something pornographic or illegal. It’s grown folks business up there all day long.”
“Good looking out,” Kelvin replied, a part of him wanting to head toward the stairs even as the God in him protested. He continued talking to Brandon, noticing that Princess and Joni had stepped a couple feet away.
“A reality show? No way!” Joni had asked Princess about the meeting with Carla. Her reaction mirrored Princess’s first thoughts.
“I felt the same way, at first. But the more I think about it, the more I think this may be God’s way of expanding my horizons.”
Joni nodded, deep in thought. “At least by having Carla in charge of the programming you know that they aren’t going to exploit you, that they are going to place you and Kelvin in the best possible light.”
“Exactly.”
“So you’re thinking about doing it?”
Princess nodded.
Joni looked past Princess to the hallway behind her. “Whoa, it’s a small world.”
Princess looked back, but didn’t see anyone she recognized. “Why do you say that?”
“I just saw Kiki Minor.”
“Really? That’s great! I need to talk to her.” Princess felt badly about all of the people she’d left hanging following her ruined nuptials. She’d had letters sent out to her bridesmaids and made sure that the musicians and others on the program got paid. But her newly acquired friend, Kiki Minor, had traveled to Kansas City at her own expense, and performed at her wedding ceremony as a gift to her and Rafael. Things hadn’t worked out as anyone planned, but Princess wanted to let Kiki know how much she’d appreciated having her there, and how much she’d enjoyed her original spoken word piece. “I think I’ll try and find—
“I’ll. Be. Damned.”
Think of the devil and she will appear.
Joni’s eyes widened. It was a rare moment that a curse word escaped Princess’s lips. She turned around and closed her eyes against the sight that greeted her. Of all the people. Of all the parties.
Damn, damn, damn!
“What the hell is
she
doing here?”
Princess shrugged. “I don’t know, but since she’s making a beeline for my husband I guess it’s about time that I find out.” She made quick work of the ten or so feet that separated her and Kelvin. She reached her husband and immediately linked her arm through his.
The woman in front of Kelvin slid her eyes in Princess’s direction before refocusing on him. She wore a short, pixie-style haircut that highlighted perfect bone structure, big doe eyes, and kiss-me lips. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
Princess rose to the full five-foot-eight height she was rocking, thanks to four-inch Louboutin heels. “You heard correctly.”
The vixen pointedly ignored Princess and boldly took a step closer to Kelvin, who placed his arm around Princess and spoke to the woman who he at one time thought was his baby’s mama. “What’s up, Fawn? A bit out of the neighborhood, wouldn’t you say?”
44
Hey Ya
F
awn took the verbal punch with no outward sign of discomfort. “I’m not chained to Phoenix. When it comes to the happenings, I get around.”
“I see. Where’s your son?”
“You’re not the biological so what do you care?”
Kelvin’s eyes narrowed. “You know that I don’t hold the lies you told against the boy. He was the innocent player in your sordid game.”
Princess couldn’t agree with her husband more. She positioned herself tall and proud beside him, remembering that in her role as Mrs. Kelvin Petersen standing up against women like the beautiful be-yatch who stood before her was test number one. From the moment she and Kelvin became UCLA’s campus darlings, Fawn had made it her business to tear them apart. She’d hounded him relentlessly and unashamedly, had screwed him in the laundry room right under Princess’s nose, and when all else had failed, had falsely accused him of being the father of her now three-year-old son. A chance illness that felled the child had brought about the truth of his rare blood type, which was not shared by either Kelvin or Fawn. A DNA test had proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that when it came to Kelvin Petersen and the child known as his junior . . . he was
not
the father. Kelvin had kicked Fawn out of his home, but still supported the boy financially. Kelvin Jr.’s real father, a former student who’d also gone to UCLA, was now serving a five-year prison term for drug trafficking and was due out in a couple years.
Princess decided to try and take the high road, if she could find it. “How is little Kelvin, Fawn? I’ve continued to pray for his health.”
Fawn eyed Princess in surprise. “He’s doing as fine as Kelvin is looking.” Showing that old habits died hard, she placed a hand on his arm. “We missed you at the White Party in Malibu last month.”
Kelvin scowled slightly as he deftly removed his arm from Fawn’s grasp and clung to Princess more tightly. “I was busy.”
“There’s another party happening on the fourth. Call me and I’ll give you the details.”
“We won’t be attending,” Princess stated. “Technically, we’re still on our honeymoon and will be spending a lot of time
alone
.”
Fawn eyed Princess with disdain. “I gotta hand it to both you
and
Rafael,” she began, her tone smug and haughty. “Nobody seeing you two now would guess that just a few short weeks ago you and he were set to marry each other. Now you’re here with a man many of us have had and will have again while that steady-looking dude has moved on and up from your stupid ass.”
Kelvin took a step forward. “Watch how you talk to my wife.”
With that cryptic message, and after pointedly ignoring Kelvin’s defense of Princess’s intelligence level, Fawn slithered over to an interested-looking NFL rookie, her next prey.
Princess appeared cool, calm, and collected on the outside, but inwardly she reeled from this confrontation. She needed some time alone, in silence, to regroup. She touched Kelvin’s arm. “I’ll be back.”
Her journey to the nearest restroom was interrupted several times: by a few people she’d gone to school with at UCLA; Tori, Lavon’s right-hand woman at MTM; and by the couple who also lived in Phoenix—NFL player Tony Johnson and his wife, Stacy. She didn’t know them well, but knew that R & B singer Darius Crenshaw, the controversial gay minister of music at her uncle’s church, was Stacy’s son’s biological father, and that she’d made peace with the fact that Bo Jenkins, Darius’s life partner, would be a significant part of her young son’s life.
“Hello, Stacy.”
“Hello, Princess.” The women hugged. “Girl, I’m sorry about all the stuff about you going down in the press. I got just a small taste of the spotlight while with Darius and know how hot those glaring lights can be.”
“It’s pretty crazy.”
“Tony and I are praying for y’all.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
“Here.” Stacy reached into her bag. “Here’s my card. I sure could have used a friend close by when I moved to Phoenix. So please, if you ever need anything—conversation, suggestions on the best shopping spots, a cup of sugar, whatever—then give me a call.”
They chatted a bit more and by the time Princess reached the luxuriously appointed bathroom, she was truly worn out. She went into the separate stall area where the commode was housed, placed down the lid and sat down. In this moment she realized just what a whirlwind she’d been on, how drained she was emotionally, and how an upscale cut-throat Hollywood party was the last place she needed to be right now.
Then why are you here, Princess?
“Exactly. We need to get out of here, right now.”
After using the facilities, Princess and her determined attitude went in search of her husband. Reaching an intersection of halls, she noticed gold and platinum albums lining the walls. The need to flee temporarily forgotten, she moseyed over to where they hung just above eye level, spaced equally apart. The producer in whose home they partied was evidently enjoying a very successful career. The albums numbered more than a dozen and most were platinum. As she neared the last album, she heard tinkling laughter coming from the room just beyond it. The sound was vaguely familiar, though Princess doubted that it was anyone she knew. She’d already seen or spoken to those at the party with whom she was familiar, and had left them all either poolside or on the lower level. A low murmuring ensued, and Princess realized what may have brought a smile to the face of the woman situated in the room beyond her. She’d attended her share of parties and knew that getting one’s groove on in a strange place could bring on the type of titillation contained within the female chuckle. And then another memory came to mind, another woman’s voice at another party, the one where Princess had walked in on Kelvin and Fawn. She turned away from the room and the sound and then . . . the woman said the man’s name.
“You feel good, Rafael.”
Princess stopped. My
Rafael? No, couldn’t be.
“You do, too, Kiki.”
WTH?
Her mind told her to walk in the opposite direction, but her feet had other plans. Before she’d even had time to think about consequences, she was in the room, standing in front of an oversized reclining chair and ottoman that easily accommodated Rafael—even with Kiki on his lap.
Princess crossed her arms, thinking that she might be looking at why her phone calls had gone unreturned. “Well, well, well.”

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