Chardonnay: A Novel (25 page)

“Boy wake up—you’re not at camp! Hey—I need a favor from you.”

His sleepy eyes blinked at me and he raised his brow so sexy,

“Like what babe?”

 
“I have something big going
down I haven’t told anybody.”

He rubbed his eyes and gave a yawn.

“Yeah,”

“Myron, I have a flight to catch and I’m meeting with some folks
that could parallel an amazing career for me. This could be my one and only
shot.”

Myron sat quite. He didn’t react preponderantly supportive or
negative and I knew all in my mind the only words he heard were flight to
catch.

“What’s it about?”

“Well I could be working for a five hundred
company
...or
model for them.”

He looked at me seriously, suggesting that he now disagreed.

“You know...I wasn’t too thrilled to see you with that dude,” he
shook his head.

“I knew he would take you from me one way or another.”

“Take me from you? Baby I’m here with you now—even after knowing
your father’s dealings. Myron, I don’t know if you know it or comprehend it,
but I love you and I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

He kissed my lips gently.

“And you tell your side line hoe you don’t need her no more.” I
didn’t know who the girl was nor could I get around to potentially finding her.
But for some reason I had appointed her as Tiffunie, the girl I saw when I was
at the Plaza with Syndi. They sounded the same and her silhouette matched
perfectly to the girl I saw in Myron’s bedroom window. The girl looked at me
funny every time we seen each other, but why would he want her? She wasn’t even
a ten in my book.

“I understand you wanting to do this, but your leading
a messy path—
I don’t even mention you stripping because it’s
not necessary to trace.”

I looked at him and had to ask.

“You’ve seen the tape?”

He looked off, pulling away from me.

“Myron you—”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” he demanded sternly.

“You knew?”

“I heard.
Now, the end of that.
When is
this flight?”

“Today.”

If I thought his face was as stiff as stone before I was not
prepared for the cracks and brittle chips I would form in them later.

“Today?”

“Yes, My.
Please support me on this.”

“I have two more days in this city before I have to go to New
England and you want me to see you off today?
Nope.”

“Myron! I have done everything to support you—this is my dream.
Baby
please
!”

“Okay,” he nodded his head as he stood from the bed,

“On the notion you come visit me in the NY next month.”

I inhaled and thought about it.

“Maybe, but you’ll just be back here anyway.”

“Koo. Now come ride my dick slow and hard before we go.”

For an hour and thirty minutes I slowly rode his dick rotating in
small circles as I sucked his delicious tongue. Myron watched my ass conform as
it jiggled, ticked, and bounced on his loins from my dressing mirror—smacking
both my cheeks
with
his full hands, separating and
dropping them only to set off a small earth quake. That sensation sent a chill
down my spine.
 
He held on to my hips,
jerking hard releasing his lust in me for seven full minutes before he stopped
moving at all. Myron stared up at me—his eyes not blinking.

 
“Did I ride it good, baby,”
I said laughing as I kissed his neck, slowly stirring his milk in me. His
breathing became short and his eyes began to flutter as he said,

“I don’t want you to go now.” I looked up at him and stopped as he
went on to say,

“It’s just not a good idea to be prancing your body around on some
set.”

“But
My
, you said you would support me
like I’ve supported you.”

He flipped me over slowly and dug deeper in me kissing my lips
slowly as he suggested, “Then I won’t be sane, knowing you’re out there like
that.”

“And who said I would be prancing on some body’s set?”

Myron only heard what he wanted to hear. The word model to him
meant fresh meat to obtain and I was not in that category to him. I was to be
his only and anything he wanted me to be. Like right now for example—his hoe—as
he sucked my erect nipples, flicking his tongue and having his way with my
body. This pretense in change of mind was only his ego, the realization that
there was another man and he was competition—for real. Little did Myron know,
what he was trying to invalidate, me sexing Jase, had already occurred—weeks
ago. Check mate.

“Myron if it’s Jase
your
worried—”

“Jase?
Is that your name for him?” he said removing
himself from me.

I shook my head and pulled the soiled sheets from my bed as I got up.
I could hear my parents pulling in the garage. When I glanced out my window my
mother had gotten out the car and looked up at my window smiling. I turned and
Myron was standing behind me.

“Move!”

“Looks like ya moms
is
home.”

“Yeah and it’s pretty fucked up she knows you’re here and happy
about it. That don’t seem strange to you?”

“Baby, we’re grown ass people—she knows that.” he said reaching
for my arm.

 
“Let me go! I’m going to
the airport with or without your consent.”

Myron pursed his lips and turned his head.

“What about your mother’s consent?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“You’re bluffing.” I said moving from him. I collected his
belongings and threw them at him.

“Alright, then you got me full and completely. I support you on
this, just, let’s make this work however.”

He said as he walked to me. I looked in his light brown baby eyes
which was my downfall. That being said, Myron would be my driver to the
airport.

21

Displaced
Emotions

I showered,
got dressed, combed my hair back in a sleek ponytail, and called Micah to tell
him I was on my way. The airport was packed for a Thursday morning. As Myron
and I walked down the aisle to a nearby seat to wait on my plane, I spotted
Micah waving from over near the entrance pulling a suit case on wheels in tow.
I smiled and stood. He always could make me feel better at the most desperate
times. As he got closer I could see red roses in his arms. Micah stopped
dramatically and gasped, “Oh, look at you in 1945 vintage Valentino low cut
jeans and an adorable baby doll pink halter top! And the shoes girl is killing ‘em.
And what did you do to your hair?”

I touched it and a frown crept along my face. Micah rushed to say,

“No baby doll—I love it! Bone straight and a honeysuckle blond.
You are naturally a model. What do you need me for again?”

I chuckled at him, we hugged, and we exchanged light kisses of the
lips like the people in France do. Myron’s body shifted uncomfortably and then
I turned to reintroduce them.

I did my research and with every model was an entourage. I didn’t
care who Jase had brought in. Micah was my first choice when it came to a
make-up artist. He didn’t wear much but it was always flawless like a regular
male actor’s make-up should be. I couldn’t even tell he had any on unless I saw
the before face. He only used MAC cosmetics and was always fixing mine anyway.

I hadn’t found a stylist or a hair designer. But
ELLE
and
America’s
Next Top Model
would hold me down just fine until then.

When we got to the interval Myron pulled out the ribbon he had
been keeping all these years and gave it to me.
 

“I can’t take this.”

“Please, that way you’ll have a little piece of us when you’re
away.”

“But aren’t you scar—”

“SHH. I’m not superstitious anymore. I know no matter what happens
we’ll be together. If you love something let it go, and if it’s meant for you
it will always come back...like we do.”

A warm tear fell down my face. He was starting to get it. I hugged
him tightly and whispered in his ear,

“I’ll see you in ten.”
 
This
meant ten days from now when he would be coming back to Kansas City from
training camp. That would be subsequently the day I would return as well, how
ironic. We kissed as Micah looked on with a half curved up smirk.

“I’ll keep ya word to
it
.” he said back.
I began to make my way on to the short stretch of a hall when I turned and
looked back. Myron lip synced, I love you, as a tear fell down his face. I was
sure he was scared I wouldn’t ever come back again.

*
 
*
 
*
 
*

So here was
that flight...the one I’ve always dreamed about that would travel the tens of
thousands of miles away from the only land I’ve known and lead me to greater
pastures. We were flying first class thanks to Micah’s frequent flier miles,
and some tugging and pulling with his “people”. I rested my head back with
Micah sitting to my right in the window seat. I just couldn’t call it. But I
was so glad I wouldn’t be alone if this plane were to go down.
 
Kansas City, Missouri had a beautiful sunset
as I left my worries there. I eventually looked over Micah, who was sound
asleep after a sip or two of wine, and out the window of the plane—scared but
optimistic of my future.

I decided to define myself by my inner ambition. Not by exterior
forces. As my train of thought came to an end I noticed that Jase was not on
this flight. I nudged Micah and he popped his head up like a Jack in the Box,

“What!”

“You sleep?”

“Now, I know I snore when I sleep so you knew damn well I was
asleep, Chardonnay!”

“All...I just wanted to know—”

“Where big dick Jase is.” he finished.

“You nasty.”

“No—you’re nasty since you’re not denying it and you know it’s
true.”

We giggled. Micah sighed and looked at me,

“When you lose your virginity anyway?”

I looked off at the stewardess and ignored Micah.

“You hear me.”

“Earlier this year.
I don’t even remember it or its
significance.”

“Why not?
Who would forget that?”

“Exactly, I was told I was...drugged. I—I did shit that night that
is above me.”

“Hump!
Well at least you did it with a bang and...
Mr. Vonseigneur has been in his native country for about a week already.”

“Native?
What do you mean?”

“Well that’s where his family is from. He has a house there.”

I hung my head at Micah and he chuckled,

“Girl, I told you. You were fucking big money. His father is
retired there now, back in his home land.”

“I thought he was from New York.”

“I don’t know every damn thing! Ask him—shit! Point and
fabulous
case—he’s rich—he’s sexy—he’s been there waiting on us for about a week now
getting all the final adjustments set for you.”

“What exactly does him being sexy have to do with anything,” I
said sitting up in my cushioned seat.

“I don’t know but it sounded good—Miss
stuart
!”
Micah called the young Iranian women over.

“Micah...”

“What, I need other drink!
Especially with her
ass on here.”

“You wrong,” I said shaking my head.

“And drinking on a plane? You’re already high enough.” I chuckled.

“Oh you got jokes. I can drink on this plane! What they gone give
me, an AUI?! Air ported under
the
 
influence
?”

We
both laughed at our corny jokes and fell to sleep shortly after that.

Seven hours later I awoke to the mid-Atlantic. Crystal clear blue
waters shimmered off the sun that set in the sky hugged by linen of cozy
clouds. It was an amazing sight. We landed in Hawaii only to be chartered in a
private jet that had the bold black letters
VONSEIGNEUR INC.
along it.
Inside it was all cherry wood and so lux I slept the rest of the way to Sierra
Leone.
 

 
Once we landed near a beach
in what Micah called the Africana Tokey village, I stepped down the steep steps
of the jet looking around at the turquoise blue sky. It was a sky so clean, it
felt like Heaven floated over us. We were greeted by two native tourists,
coconut palm trees that shaded us, and sand so effervescent white it looked
like snow.

“Welcome to Sierra Leone’s Tokey Island!”
 
a
man with oily black
skin the color of molasses announced. Micah gave him a thank you and we
followed them to a shiny stretch limousine. Josh had sent for us a limo and
guess who else was in it in when I climbed in the back.
Syndi.
I smiled and she said,

“Hi Miss Houston—girl I’m glad you’re here! “

“Hey, why such the excitement for her but not me!” lashed out a
jealous Micah as the driver closed the door.

“Oh hush—you know I love you!” she said swiping his leg.

The drive was just a few minutes in duration along a dirt road
accompanied by tropical trees and birds floating long the airy road. We pulled
into a curved lot in front of a colonial white home. Looking at it reminded me
of a miniature New Orleans inspired Victorian plantation home. It was huge and
the windows were nothing but open sheer drapes flying in the windy breeze the
evening provided. A gentlemen dressed in a colorful island attire opened our
door and took his hat off.

“Welcome.”

I stepped out, latching on to his sturdy and warm hand as I looked
on at the huge house before me. With its historically designed charm the home
held a presence so strong, at first blush, I was taken aback. Our things were
carried and we were lead up the stone hand carved steps that lead to two huge
wooden doors made of an exotic bamboo. Once the doors opened, I was confronted
with a familiar but ripened version of Jase’s distinctly attractive and
striking features. The aged man was one of the most gorgeous
man
I had ever witnessed in my life...much like Jase. He stuck his hand out and
bowed. I kneeled like I had been taught in charm school and narrowed my eyes
innocently up.

“Mon Dieu.
Votre
stupefiant
.”

I stood straight up slowly and said,

“Sorry, but I only speak English. But that sounded beautiful—what
did you say?”

“He said, my God...your breathtaking.” Jase said, slowly entering
the foyer, turning around the dim corner with his hands in his slack pockets
and walking in a stride so sleek and smooth like only he could do. We all
stepped in the house as Jase introduced everyone. The foreign speaking man was
Jase’s father Jean Vonseigneur. There was small chatter as everyone gathered in
the lofty living room including Jase’s mother who was well...attractive as
well.

She adorned diamonds in the evening—at home with eye lashes so
long she could curl them with an iron. And they were real. Her wardrobe was
posh and elegantly designed by Chanel. The woman was all glam. So glam I felt
inadequate in my little skinny jeans and vintage Valentino blouse.

Whatever genes these people had—I wanted them. He introduced me to
her but it was as if we hadn’t been introduced at all. As soon as he said, “Mother
this is Chardonnay.” she smiled and seen someone else more else important to
talk to—Syndi. Although put a bit off only to not be acknowledged by her again,
I really didn’t care. I knew some mothers were protective of their sons and I
saw where Syndi got it from. His mother not only knew I was more than a
business associate, but that Jase and I were more than friends, somehow some way.
The thing they all had in common was that none of them were speaking English.
As Syndi and her mother went on to ramble about something I couldn’t translate,
Micah and I were shown around the house. Filthy rich could not describe their
home. I was in awe at the possessions it held. There were certain places we
couldn’t go in the home, which weren’t outlined exactly the reason why for some
reason. Eventually we were all shown to our rooms. In Jase’s family, like mine,
there was no such thing as staying elsewhere but home; especially when the home
looked like a hotel. While unpacking my things in the room I would be sharing
with Syndi I heard soft footfalls glide across the room. I didn’t nudge for I
knew who was standing behind me. He came around the other side of the bed and
began to help me put things away.

“Supper will begin at six.” Jase said breaking the silence. There
was something different about him. I couldn’t place it. Maybe it was the change
of scenery and tropical climate. Then I turned my head sideways and shook my
head no, it couldn’t have been either. I stared at him for a moment. The look
in his eyes, atoned, yet tranquil.

“There something I need to tell you.” he sighed.

“Is it bad because I don’t need any more bad news? And I thank you
for bringing me here but why the far away invite?”

“This is business, you know that...”

“That’s the difference, Jase. Why—why are you talking like that?”
I said realizing he was speaking with an accent.

“I—I couldn’t tell you back home—or like this. Can we speak over
tea?
Red Chai tea, maybe?”

“You didn’t answer my question and now that I come to think about
it—the first time I asked you why you didn’t tell me you had money, you turned
the table on me. What’s up with that?”

His eyes flickered, switching on and off his irises like a candle
balancing in the wind.

“It could be a good thing or it could be a bad thing.” he said
sounding so damn sexy with his accent—one I was wondering why he would hide.

“Whatever—I don’t want you to pacify me with a tea party, tell me
now.”

“Tea will calm you, you should be jet lagged anyway—come on.” he
leaned over for my hand. I followed him down the stairs and on to the back
patio. It was gorgeous with an outside kitchen and lights that hung above our
heads, strung on a line that was translucent, making them look as if they were
flying. I watched Jase place two small golden cups on a tray along with the
kettle that had been screaming since we stepped on to the patio. It seemed he
was preparing me for whatever he wanted to say. I was tired of guys and their
true confessions, why couldn’t they be real from the get go. He sat down in
front of me and took a deep breath. I leaned over to try and help with pouring
the tea but he assured me he wanted me to relax.

“Well,” he said running his hands through his four inch twisted
locks.

“I haven’t done what I’m about to do in a while. One of the
reasons I didn’t tell you I had a lot of money was because, in the past when I
do share that with women, they stay only for that reason.”