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“Ana! Ana!” yelled the children from the shelter when they saw the yellow scooter pull into the yard.
New Beginnings was near and dear to Ayana’s heart. The small, privately run shelter relied on donations from generous patrons, and Ayana was at the top of that list. She didn’t have any children of her own and considered the kids at the shelter her babies.
“Hey, guys! What’s happening?” Ayana hopped off the scooter, gathered as many children into her arms as she could hold and gave them all a huge hug.
“Now, now, chilrin, leave Ms. Lewis be. Go now and do yo work,” Marigold, the shelter’s administrator, said as she came into the yard waving her hands and shooing the children away.
“Did you get the shipment yet?”
“All dose big boxes come, and me didn’t know what to do wit all dose clothes.” She smiled. “We thank ya.”
“You’re welcome. It was no problem. All I did was collect clothes from friends of mine who were purging their closets.”
“Ya do more than send clothes. Ya send checks too, and dey help keep dis place going.”
Ayana looked a bit embarrassed; she didn’t like when Marigold praised her for helping. The shelter needed assistance, and she was just glad that she was now in a position to help.
“And dat stuff you send look brand-new. Some of dem tings still had da tags on ’em.”
“Yeah, I know. I only select clothes that are gently worn, if not new. Did you see the note attached to that blue dress? It’s for you.”
“I saw it, but dat dress is too fancy fo me.”
“It’s only a sundress.”
“Yeah, a sundress by Ralph, uh...uh...”
“Lauren. Ralph Lauren.”
“Where me gonna wear some designer dress to? After me husband die, I don’t go out much.”
“Well, you never know what life has in store. Maybe you’ll get invited to a party or asked out on a date. It’s always good to have a go-to dress in your closet.”
“I no want no date. James was de love of me life and after he die, a piece of me died too.”
“Marigold, you’re still a good-looking woman, and I’m sure James wouldn’t want you to be alone for the rest of your life.” Ayana sympathized with her friend but always tried to be encouraging.
“James did tell me not to pine away for him for too long,” she said with a sorrowful look in her eyes.
“See what I mean. James wouldn’t want you spending every night home alone.”
“Okay, okay, me keep Mista Lauren. Ya wanna come in fo some lunch? Me make kingfish stew and coco bread.”
“No, thanks. I already ate. I have to go back home and pack. I just came by to see if you got the clothes and to see you and the kids.”
“We hate to see ya go.” Marigold gave Ayana a warm hug.
“I hate to go, but duty calls.”
The truth was, Ayana wasn’t looking forward to returning to New York, but her hiatus was over. The reality show that she starred in was resuming filming in a few days. She had spent two glorious months in Jamaica, eating her mother’s home cooking, taking long walks on the beach and meditating at her favorite place high in the Blue Mountains. The serenity and beauty of the island, and being surrounded by people who loved her, had rejuvenated her soul. Now Ayana was ready to resume her hot-blooded persona and tackle another season of Divorced Divas.
Chapter 2
“We’ll be starting our descent in the New York area shortly, so please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts.”
Ayana heard the flight attendant’s announcement through the lavatory door. She looked in the mirror and was satisfied with her transformation. Gone was the girlish ponytail, replaced by a long, flowing, platinum-blond lace-front wig. She’d traded in her island uniform of cutoff blue jean shorts, sleeveless T-shirt and flip-flops for a sexy black-and-white Tom Ford pencil skirt that hugged her full hips. The matching chiffon blouse with blouson sleeves was secured around her slim waist with a wide black leather belt dotted with silver studs. Black-and-white layered necklaces and a pair of five-inch strappy platforms completed the high-maintenance look. She applied a double coat of ruby-red lipstick to her perfectly made-up face to add a pop of color. Ayana gathered her belongings and put them back in her Prada tote. She exited the lavatory and returned to her seat in first class.
“Would you like anything else before we land?” asked the attendant.
“I’ll have a glass of champagne. Actually, make it two.”
After the attendant brought the drinks, Ayana drank the two flutes of bubbly and readied herself for any photographers or reporters who might be waiting for her once she deplaned. Divorced Divas led in the ratings due to Ayana’s prima-donna persona. The gossip rags were always trying to get dirt on Saturday Knight—Ayana’s name on the show—and stalked her on a regular basis. The latest story going around town was that Ayana was the reason Erick Kastell—her love interest on the show—had fled the country.
“Welcome to New York, and thanks for flying with us today. You are now free to use your cell phones,” the pilot announced once they’d landed.
As the plane taxied to the gate, Ayana called Reese. “Hey, girl, we just landed. Where are you?”
“In the car, waiting outside of baggage claim.”
“Okay. See you in a few.”
Once the doors opened, Ayana put on a pair of oversize shades, retrieved her carry-on from the overhead bin and strutted down the pedway, into the terminal and out the door.
“Saturday! Saturday Knight! Look this way!” a photographer yelled, snapping pictures as she strolled past.
“Saturday, is it true you’re the reason Moses Michaels left his girlfriend, Lisa?” a reporter shouted.
“Have you read Lisa’s tweets? She’s calling you a home wrecker,” another reporter blurted out.
Ayana didn’t even glance in their direction, though that didn’t stop them from blurting out questions.
“Is it true that you and Moses Michaels are dating?” another reporter shouted.
Moses Michaels was the hot single moderator of the reality-show circuit. He and Saturday had gone out a few times, but it had not lasted.
She kept walking, looking straight ahead as if they weren’t there. She saw Reese’s black Benz and concentrated on making it to the car without acknowledging the annoying paparazzi and reporters.
“Hey, girl, welcome home.” Reese turned to kiss Ayana on the cheek. “Well, it isn’t such a good welcome with the media stalking you and accusing you of breaking up Moses and his girlfriend,” Reese said as Ayana settled into the car.
“Their claims are totally untrue. Moses had broken up with his girlfriend before we’d started to date. Anyway, Moses and I are now just friends. The lies remind me of my nasty divorce,” she said, remembering the highly publicized proceedings.
* * *
During the divorce trial, reporters and photographers had lined the steps of the courthouse, begging for interviews and snapping pictures. Salacious details of their marriage had made interesting headlines. Ayana had been embarrassed to read about their rather unorthodox love life.
Benjamin had leaked photos of Ayana dressed as a dominatrix, beating him with a whip. He’d accused her of dominating him against his will. It had incensed her. The entire bondage and sadomasochism idea had been his. Benjamin had bought her the black latex catsuit, platform boots and whip, and he’d even made her watch an instructional DVD to teach her the nuances of BDSM. Ayana had resisted at first, but Benjamin had insisted. He’d said it was the ultimate thrill to have her beat him. But he’d backpedaled in court, playing the victim. He’d even produced pictures of bruises on his back.
In addition to the accusations of sexual abuse, Benjamin had accused Ayana of spousal abandonment, saying that she spent months in Jamaica. On the stand, Ayana did admit to visiting her parents. However, it was Benjamin who’d insisted that she extend her stay, saying that since they didn’t have children, there was no need for her to rush back home to New York.
His team of highly paid attorneys had earned every dime of their retainer, working overtime to paint a negative picture of Ayana. Her attorney had presented her case, stating to the court that Benjamin willingly withheld funds from her, making her practically lead a destitute life, except for the times when they were out together. Her case was weak in comparison to Benjamin’s. And as the weeks had dragged on, Ayana became worn out. With her funds dwindling and her emotional state deteriorating, Ayana had agreed to settle. Initially, she had been seeking half of the money he’d made while they were together but then realized that Benjamin was willing to fight dirty in order to keep from paying Ayana her share. To put an end to the spectacle and move on with her life, she’d settled for a fraction of the estate, signed the divorce papers and never looked back. Although the proceedings had been emotionally draining, one good thing had come out of the ordeal—a job.
Little did Ayana know that tracking her divorce proceedings was show creator Ed Levine, who had struck gold with his string of reality TV shows. He had been looking to staff Divorced Divas, his latest undertaking about divorced women of millionaires seeking a second chance at love. He had seen Ayana on the news and in the papers and had become taken with her. Ayana was tall, attractive, stylish and well-spoken—all the ingredients of a television star. He’d contacted her attorney and set up a meeting.
However, Ayana had had no interest in exposing her life on camera. Being in the media during the divorce was enough, so she’d turned down the meeting. Ayana’s post-divorce plan was to reenter corporate America. The only problem was her limited experience. Her last job had been as Benjamin’s administrative assistant. She’d dusted off her résumé, made calls and tried to set up interviews to no avail. Her skill set wasn’t the problem; being the former Mrs. Benjamin Lewis was. Apparently, he had put the word out and blacklisted her.
In need of an income, Ayana had asked her attorney to contact the producers. Their initial meeting had gone well, except for one glitch. Ed had wanted Ayana to play the role of the good girl, but he had filled that role after she had turned him down. The only slot left to fill was that of the “diva.” Ayana had been reluctant but was in dire straits and needed money badly, so she’d accepted the role along with the stage name. A year later, Saturday Knight was a household name. Luckily, the show wasn’t broadcasted in Jamaica. Ayana couldn’t stand the thought of her family knowing that she degraded herself on camera for a living. She hated her job but was determined to make it work. Ayana read about reality stars branding themselves, launching clothing, perfume and cosmetics lines and even going on to costar in prime-time network series and movies. Some of them were making millions, and that was exactly what she planned to do.
* * *
“So are you well rested and ready for another season of Divorced Divas?” Reese asked as they drove along the FDR.
“I am rested, but the thought of another unnecessary catfight makes my stomach churn.”
“Girl, what’s up with that? Why do people love to see grown women acting like teenagers, fighting and yelling at each other?”
Ayana hunched her shoulders. “Wish I knew. Seems the more controversy on the show, the higher the ratings.”
“Does the creator of the show even know your true personality? You’re the nicest person anyone could ever meet.”
“Yeah, he knows, but for Ed, it’s all about ratings.”
“Then have a meeting and ask him to change your role so that the viewers can see who you really are.”
“Last season, a director made some show suggestions and he was fired.”
“I thought reality television was all about depicting people in their true form.”
“Reese, the reality is that reality television is a money-making machine. The creators of these shows will go to any length to ensure ratings, even if they have to fudge the truth and stage scenes.”
“What an oxymoron.”
“That’s an understatement. After losing nearly everything in the divorce, my focus is on building a solid financial future so that I won’t have to rely on a man ever again.”
“You may not need a man for money, but what about for sex?”
“Girl, sex is the furthest thing from my mind.”
“When was the last time you had any?”
“Any what?”
“Stop playing. You know what I mean.”
“I haven’t had sex in months.”
“I couldn’t go a week without Joey.”
“Well, consider yourself one of the lucky ones. You and Joey have a happy, healthy relationship.” Reese and her husband, Joey, had met in the Diamond District.
“Yes, we do, but it didn’t happen overnight. In the beginning Joey traveled to South Africa a lot on business, and the distance was hard on our relationship. It’s taken years for us to get to a good place. One day you’ll find your Mr. Right. What about Moses Michaels? You two went out a few times. Maybe he’s the one. He sure is one good-looking man.”
“No, he’s not the one for me. I can’t handle the ladies’-man type. The problem is he’s too good-looking. Women throw themselves at him all the time, and he loves the attention. He told me in no uncertain terms that he was only interested in sex—not a relationship.”
“He said that?” Reese asked, astounded.
“Yep, he sure did.”
“Well...maybe you should have at least tried him on for size. He looks like he’d be a good lover.”
Ayana lightly pushed Reese on the shoulder. “Ohhh, I can’t believe you’re saying that!”
“Why?” She smiled sheepishly.
“Because you are happily married to Joey, that’s why.”
“I’m married, not dead, and you would have to be dead not to notice Moses Michaels.”
“Guess you have a point, and I was soooo tempted to take him up on his offer. I just didn’t want to become another one of his many conquests.”
“I understand that, but did you at least kiss the man?”
“Yes, we kissed.”
“So was he a good kisser?”
“Aren’t you the nosy one?”
“Well...curious minds want to know.”
“Yes, he’s a great kisser. Are you satisfied? Now can we change the subject, please?”
“Okay, okay. Forget about the players of the world. Plenty of men out there want a committed relationship. What about that guy from Switzerland who was on the show?”
“You mean Erick?”
“Yes, that’s him. From the episodes I watched, you two appeared to have mad chemistry.”
“We did. The producers sent us on several romantic dates and we were getting along really well until he had to go back to Switzerland and take care of some issues regarding his work papers to stay in the U.S.”
“That’s too bad. Don’t worry. You’ll find Mr. Right,” Reese reiterated.
“I’m not worried, and I’m not waiting either.” Ayana looked out the window for a moment, digesting her friend’s words. She didn’t want to admit it, since she had talked so much about getting her financial house in order, but she silently hoped for a true love of her own.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you that Joey and I are going to South Africa and then we’re heading over to Antwerp, Belgium, for a diamond-buying trip. After our business is done, we’re taking a holiday in Capri. We’ll be gone for at least a month. I’ll call you when we get back.”
“That sounds like a fun trip.”
“It should be. I can’t wait.”
