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“Nice ain’t never got me nowhere. I prefer to tell it straight with no chaser. I can’t help it if you can’t take the truth.”
“I take truth. You bully. How is that for truth?”
Saturday walked close to Petra and got in her face. “I got your bully.”
Ed watched their exchange from the sideline, where he sat along with the executive producer, Steve. While Ed looked on in admiration at the way Saturday was performing, Steve watched in disgust.
“That Saturday is some piece of work. She should give poor Petra a break,” Steve whispered to Ed.
“She’s perfect just the way she is. Everyone on the show can’t be Mary Poppins, or the show would be a bore,” Ed said, coming to Saturday’s defense.
“Well, I guess you’re right. But at least she could wait until the director says ‘action’ before giving Petra hell.”
“I’m sure this is her way of warming up before we start taping,” Ed said.
Saturday continued to go at Petra, insulting her broken English and pointing her finger in Petra’s face.
“Hey, you two, save the bickering for the camera,” Brandon said, breaking up the spat. He had seen enough.
Petra stomped over to the huge picture window, folded her arms and muttered under her breath.
“What is all this chatter going on? I could hear you two all the way in my room, and the door was shut. This is not a barroom brawl. We’re in an elegant penthouse and should act accordingly,” Brooke said in a chastising voice as she entered the room.
Brooke Windsor had once had it all. Born with a platinum spoon in her pretty mouth and raised on the Upper East Side, her great-grandparents were blue bloods who’d made their fortune in the railroad industry. Rumors had it that she and her ex-husband were first cousins, which wasn’t unusual for people of their stature. What was unusual was for a family with old money to lose their fortune within a generation. And that was exactly what Brooke’s husband did when he invested all of their money with a shifty investment adviser who swindled them in a Ponzi scheme. Distraught over losing his family’s fortune, her husband fled to Europe, leaving his wife to fend for herself. With no marketable skills, Brooke jumped at the chance to star on Divorced Divas. The only problem was that Brooke had an air of superiority and thought she was better than the other divas. Also, in her quest to find her next meal ticket, Brooke flirted with just about any man with earning potential. Brooke, who had grown up with the best of everything, had now lost everything. She still had her family’s name, but that didn’t keep her in designer clothes or pay for lavish vacations. Ed thrust Brooke in the world of athletes when choosing her dates, setting her up with basketball players, football players, hockey players and the like. Most of the guys had no problem being seen on camera with the beautiful Brooke. And she had no problem dating these men earning seven-figure salaries.
“Don’t worry about how loud we are. Worry about finding another cousin to marry,” Saturday shot back.
Brooke rolled her eyes, swung her long blond hair and whipped her slim body around, giving Saturday her back.
“Girls, girls, save all the backbiting for the camera,” Brandon repeated.
Saturday started in again. “First of all, we’re not girls. Second...”
“Second, I’m the director and this is now my show, so when I say save it, I mean save it,” Brandon interrupted her. “I assume everyone has read the show notes for the day, so let’s get started. Saturday, I want you sitting on the sofa next to Trista. You two are discussing Saturday’s latest blind date. When the bell rings, Saturday, I want you to answer the door.”
“Wait a minute—isn’t the maid supposed to answer the door?” Brooke interrupted.
Brandon shot her a look. He turned back to Saturday and continued. “Like I said, when the bell rings, answer the door. Got it? Good.”
Saturday went over and sat beside Trista. Brooke and Petra were seated in the background at a table set for high tea.
Once everyone was in position, Brandon yelled, “Action!”
The set lights came on, and the cameras began rolling. Saturday and Trista starting chatting as if they were best friends. Saturday recalled her past dates, a mix of businessmen, athletes, rockers and Europeans. Ed wanted her dating base to span the range so Saturday could swoop in at any given time and steal a cast member’s date, bringing high drama to the show.
“That guy Anthony you went to dinner with seems nice. Are you excited to see him again?” Trista asked.
“He’s the one who should be excited.”
“And why is that?”
“Hello, have we met? Look at me.” Saturday stood up and twirled around. “Who wouldn’t want to see me again?”
Damn, that chick has no shame, Brandon thought, sitting in his director’s chair and staring at Saturday.
As they were talking, the bell rang. Saturday strutted over to the door, paused and opened it. Standing before her was a portly Italian man who looked as if he had eaten too many meatballs. He was dressed in a navy business suit, wore rectangle glasses and carried a black briefcase. He looked like a public defender heading to court instead of someone standing on the set of a reality show.
“Hey there, how are ya? You’re looking fine as ever,” he said nervously.
“Hello, Anthony,” Saturday answered drily.
“Cut!”
“What? Why’d you yell cut?” Saturday asked. “We just got started.”
“I want you to show some enthusiasm. Act like you’re happy to see him. Take two. Action.”
Saturday leaned in and gave the man a hug with a friendly pat on the back. Obviously there was no chemistry between them. She towered over him and they looked mismatched, like complete opposites.
“Cut!”
“What now?” Saturday rolled her eyes and put her hand on her hip.
“When I said show some enthusiasm I meant give him a hello kiss. Take three. Action.”
Saturday leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the lips.
“Cut! Cut!” Brandon was getting frustrated. He walked over and got in Saturday’s face. “What’s wrong with you? Why did you kiss him like he’s your brother?”
“I didn’t kiss him like a brother.”
“You sure didn’t kiss him with any passion.”
“That’s because I don’t feel any passion toward him,” she said as if the man weren’t even standing there.
“Look, the viewers want to see chemistry. Not some lukewarm peck on the lips. Now try it again.” Brandon went back to his director’s chair and yelled, “Take four! Action!” Saturday kissed Anthony again, and again Brandon cut the scene.
“What the hell do you want?” she hissed, rolling her eyes.
Brandon got up, went over to Saturday, took her firmly by the shoulders and gave her a long juicy kiss. He could feel himself responding to her; his crotch was getting heated with every passing second. “That’s what I want,” he said, releasing her before he had a full-blown erection.
Saturday was speechless. “Got it,” she said once she recovered from the surprise kiss.
When Brandon returned to the director’s chair and yelled “action” again, he didn’t have any more problems. She kissed Anthony as if he were her long-lost lover. As Brandon watched the scene play out, he could still feel the warmth of her lips against his. Her lips were soft and he could envision kissing and making love to her all night. His mind momentarily drifted into a fantasy where their naked bodies were intertwined in a heated embrace and their tongues were doing a sensuous, synchronized dance. Brandon shook his head, trying to rid himself of the image. He was there to work, not fantasize. Besides, divas were not his type, and Saturday was beyond your typical diva. After being dumped by an actress, he wanted nothing more to do with the entertainment types. He wanted a down-to-earth woman with traditional family values, and Saturday Knight certainly didn’t fit that description.
Chapter 6
The first day of taping had been long and drawn out. By the time Ayana returned home, she was exhausted. After showering and putting on her favorite pink Hello Kitty pajamas, she climbed into bed. She then pulled the comforter up to her chin and shut her eyes. An hour later, she was still wide-awake, sleep eluding her. Ayana tossed and turned, switching from her left side to the right, in an effort to get comfortable, but it wasn’t working. Ayana sat up and attacked the pillows, punching them with her fist, trying to soften them. Satisfied that she had loosened the down feathers sufficiently, she laid her head back on the creased pillows. The moment she closed her eyes, visions of Brandon appeared. Ayana could see him walking toward her with a sexy strut. Her body’s memory could still feel his strong hands taking hold of her shoulders, pressing her against his body and giving her a sensuous kiss. His lips touching hers had been a welcome surprise. The last thing Ayana expected was to be lip-locking with the new director. She could tell from the way he introduced his lips to hers—purposeful, yet gentle—that he was an experienced lover. He had turned her on with only one brief kiss, and now her body craved more of his touch.
Ayana bolted straight up. “Get that man out of your mind,” she said quietly, underneath her breath, in the darkened room. She inhaled several times, fast at first and then slowly in a Zen-like effort to calm herself. As Ayana was going through the breathing exercises, her cell phone rang. She froze, and her heart started beating fast. Her mind instantly flashed to Brandon. I wonder if that’s him calling? A phone list with all the cast and crew’s home and cell numbers had been passed out before rehearsals began, so it wasn’t unlikely that he could be calling.
She turned over, looked at the nightstand and saw her cell glowing in the dark. As Ayana reached for the phone she glanced down and was disappointed to see Reese’s name on the screen. Ayana didn’t really feel like talking. She wanted to focus on going to sleep, but she knew if she didn’t answer, Reese would only call back in a few minutes. Reese didn’t leave messages; she was a repeat caller, and she hit Redial until she got an answer.
“Hey,” Ayana said without an ounce of enthusiasm in her voice.
“Are you asleep already? It’s only nine o’clock,” Reese said, full of energy.
“No, not really. I’m just lying here.”
“What’s wrong? You sound agitated.”
“Nothing.”
“Come on, now. I know you better than that. Something must have happened on the shoot today if you can’t sleep.” Reese and Ayana had known each other since high school, and they were adept at reading each other, much like an old married couple.
“Well, something out of the ordinary did happen, but it was no big deal.” Ayana was reluctant to tell Reese what had happened because she didn’t want her friend blowing the incident out of proportion, trying to make a love connection like she had done so many times in the past.
“Do tell. I like hearing about the action on the set. It’s like watching the show before it airs. Did you get into another catfight with Petra? Or did Brooke piss you off with her hoity-toity attitude?” Reese knew the antics of each cast member as if she were part of the show.
“No, it had nothing to do with either of them. It’s the new director. He kissed me today.”
“What! Are you kidding? Why did he kiss you?”
“He was demonstrating how I should’ve kissed one of my dates,” Ayana said, as if kissing the director was an everyday occurrence.
“Why do you sound so matter-of-fact about it? Was he a bad kisser?”
Ayana closed her eyes, reminiscing. “On the contrary—the kiss was awesome. I can’t stop thinking about him,” she said, unable to hide her feelings any longer.
“Girl, you sound like you have a crush on him!”
“You see, this is why I didn’t want to say anything. I knew you were going to blow the whole thing up. I’m not in high school, and I don’t have a crush. I was just surprised at his bold demonstration, that’s all.” Ayana had said enough and didn’t want to fully admit how much the kiss had affected her, so much so that Brandon and his lips were on repeat in her mind, playing over and over.
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious. I don’t have time to get involved with anybody, let alone someone I work with. I’m concentrating all of my energy on the next phase of my life. I don’t plan to be on Divorced Divas forever. My focus is on branding myself, not on romance,” she said, redirecting the conversation.
“That’s a good speech, but what’s wrong with having a relationship and working on your career at the same time? I’m working on my gemology certification and taking care of my husband at the same time.”
“Well, that might work for you, but for me romance is often a distraction. Remember when I started working for Benjamin? My plan was to climb the corporate ladder at BL Industries. Instead, I ended up dating and then marrying the boss. Look how that turned out. I don’t plan on making the same mistake twice. I’m not getting any younger, and I need to secure my financial future while I can.”
“My point exactly. You’re not getting younger and you need to find a man so you won’t grow old alone. Don’t get me wrong—I understand your financial concerns, but love is important too. Money won’t hug you around the waist at night and keep you warm.”
Ayana sighed. She was tired and ready to end the conversation. She had heard Reese’s speech on finding true romance more than she could count on two hands. “Love will just have to wait. Look, Reese, I need to get to sleep. I have an early day tomorrow.”
“Okay, but maybe you need to give that director a second look. He might be the one.”
Ayana sighed into the phone.
“I’m not preaching. I only want you to be happy like Joey and me.”
“Everybody isn’t as lucky as you guys. Maybe finding a soul mate isn’t in the cards for me.”
“I don’t believe that, and I’m sure you don’t either.”
“Having a significant other would be the icing on the cake, but at this point in my life, I’m not going to hold my breath for my soul mate to come along. I’ll just take the cake and forget about the icing.”
“All I’m saying is just don’t close yourself off to an opportunity that presents itself. You never know when love will come knocking.”
“I hear you, Reese. I hate to cut our conversation short, but I really have to get to sleep. Talk to you later.”
“Okay, good night.”
After Ayana ended the call and put the phone back on the nightstand, she thought about Reese’s advice. Although she had made a point of saying that true love wasn’t in her future, Reese was right about finding someone to grow old with. Ayana didn’t want to be alone the rest of her life, but for now, her search would have to wait.
Chapter 7
Barneys New York, the swanky department store on Madison Avenue, was the site of the day’s shoot. The cast was scheduled to come in and comb through the designer racks in search of outfits for their upcoming dates. Viewers loved seeing the ladies buy five-thousand-dollar shoes without blinking an eyelash and adding their names to the waitlist for designer purses that cost as much as a small house in some cities. The producers were adamant about portraying the ritzy world of glitz and glamour, and Barneys, with its multiple floors of designer swag, was the perfect venue.
Brandon was scheduled for a brief meeting with Ed before the cast arrived to discuss blocking for the shoot. The lighting and audio teams had already set up and were waiting patiently for the show to begin. Ed had arrived ahead of Brandon. He was dressed in teal-blue skinny jeans, a yellow silk camp shirt, a pair of pink platform sneakers, a monogrammed Louis Vuitton messenger bag strapped across his chest and his signature chiffon scarf—this one in multicolored shades of teal, yellow and pink. He strutted through the store looking like a designer-clad peacock.
“Hey, Ed, how’s it going?” Brandon said, entering the cordoned-off shoe section the store had reserved for the shoot.
“Other than a little heartburn, I’m good. Guess I shouldn’t have had a second helping of lasagna and tiramisu last night.” His protruding belly was indication of his love for fattening Italian food.
“Why don’t you send the PA to Duane Reade to pick up some Pepto?”
“Good idea.” Ed took his cell phone out of his messenger bag. “Hey, Gabby, can you run to the drugstore and buy a large bottle of Pepto-Bismol? Thanks.”
“Where do you want the first scene to start?” Brandon asked as Ed completed the call.
Ed crossed the room and stood next to a display of designer pumps. “Here is fine. I want the girls to ogle over these beauties.”
“No problem.” Brandon picked up a shoe to inspect it. “Are they serious with these prices?” he asked, holding a red, leather-bottomed pump.
“Those are Louboutins. What do you expect?”
“Lou Who?”
“Christian Louboutin. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of him. Everyone is familiar with his signature red bottoms,” Saturday said in a snarky tone as she walked up behind him.
Brandon put the shoe back on the display. “Not everyone is as consumed with material possessions as you ladies seem to be,” he said, looking her dead in the eyes.
For a few moments they stood face-to-face without saying a word. Brandon could feel himself being drawn to her. His eyes scanned her body up and down. She wore a slinky, red, ankle-length dress that fitted her curvaceous body like a second skin. Saturday oozed sensuality, and there was no doubt that he was attracted to her. Brandon shook off the feeling. Although Saturday was beautiful, her personality was offensive and he couldn’t imagine spending his life with such an abrasive woman.
“Whatever.” Saturday twisted her lips, flipped her long wig and turned her back to him. “So, Ed, what’s wrong with you? You look pale as a ghost. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, just a little heartburn. Let me sit down until Gabby gets here with the medicine.” He sat in one of the cushy chairs and continued talking. “Now, about today’s shoot, Saturday. I want you and Petra to really go at it. Get in her face and don’t back down until the director says ‘cut.’”
