Flawbulous (3 page)

“Sister or no sister, I won't hesitate to throw some blows
if that's what it takes. . . .”

 

 

Mark Vinson crept up behind Reginell as she reached for a roll of paper towels on top of Mark's refrigerator. “I see London. I see France. I see Reggie's . . .” Mark playfully lifted the oversized T-shirt Reginell was wearing and squinted his eyes. “Wait a minute. Why aren't you wearing underpants?”

Reginell giggled and swatted Mark away. “Stop looking up under there!”

“Why should I do that?” He picked Reginell up, sat her on the counter, and kissed her. “You're mine now, Mrs. Vinson.”

“Yeah, but no one else knows that. They all think we spent last weekend in Biloxi, gambling, not in Montego Bay, getting married.”

“Well, I guess technically, it's not legal until we have it cleared in the United States, but as far as I'm concerned, you were my wife last week, today, tomorrow, and forever.” He kissed her again. “Now, if I'm not mistaken, Mrs. Vinson, I do believe this shirt belongs to me. I think I want it back.”

Mark started lifting up her shirt, but Reginell stopped him and pulled the shirt back down. “No time for all that, baby. Did you forget that your son will be here any minute?”

Mark reluctantly pulled away from her. “I didn't forget. I was just hoping you'd be down for a quickie.”

Reginell laughed. “So what do you want to tell Namon when he gets here?”

“I'd like to tell him and his sister that we're married before we announce it to anyone else, but we don't have to say anything right away if you're not ready to.”

Reginell wrapped her arms around his neck. “Good, because I like having it be our little secret. I want to enjoy being here and being newlyweds without all the well-intentioned interference.”

“Are you positive you don't want to at least tell Lawson?”

“Telling Lawson is the same as telling all of them. Baby, the last thing we need is my sister and her friends nagging and asking a bunch of questions.”

“Don't you think they'd be happy for us?”

“Their happiness comes with a lot baggage—trust me! Plus, everyone should be focused on Sullivan and everything going on with her and the baby.”

“How is she, anyway?”

Reginell sighed. “Still in a coma. Lawson went by to see her today. It's hitting her pretty hard. She thinks of Sullivan like a sister.”

“You do too, don't you?”

Reginell chuckled a little. “More like an evil stepsister. Sully and I don't exactly have the best track record with each other, but I have to admit that life wouldn't be the same without her. Nobody can give a good read quite like Sullivan. Sometimes it's fun having people like that around.”

“Maybe the reason you two butt heads so much is that you're so much alike. You're both feisty and tough, and it's no secret that you both know how to drive men wild!”

“Correction—used to drive men wild! I drive only one man wild these days.”

“And you do that very well, I must say.”

Reginell winced and clutched her stomach.

Mark was alarmed. “What's wrong, baby? Is your stomach still giving you trouble?”

She shrugged and brushed it off. “I'm cramping a little, that's all.”

“Your stomach has been bothering you for a few weeks now, and you said your period has been a little off. Maybe . . .” He flashed her a mischievous grin.

“The pregnancy test came back negative, remember?”

“That was a week ago. It could've just been too soon to tell. I think we need to make an appointment with your doctor to be sure one way or the other. And if you're not pregnant, we need to find out why you've been in so much pain lately.”

Mark's phone rang before Reginell could respond. He answered and found a hysterical Lawson on the other end of the line.

“Mark, I need you to come over right now!” demanded Lawson.

“What's going on? Where's our son?”

“He's here. I can't get into this with you on the phone. Just come and hurry up.”

Mark stared at the phone for a few seconds after Lawson abruptly hung up on him. “That was your sister.”

Reginell hopped off of the countertop. “What does she want?”

“I don't know, but it sounds serious. I think it has something to do with Namon.” Mark searched for his car keys. “She wants me to come over.”

“Okay, let me grab my shoes.” She looked down at her bare legs. “And some pants. And some panties.”

“The panties are optional.” Mark kissed her on the cheek. “Babe, you don't have to come if you don't want to.”

“Mark, I'm your wife now. Your problems are my problems too. Plus, Namon is my nephew and stepson, and Lawson is my sister. We're family. If something is going on, I want to know about it.”

“I'm sure it's nothing and Lawson is overreacting, as usual.”

“Then, in that case, she'd needs a stern lecture from me for interrupting our honeymoon.” Reginell slipped into the pair of jeans lying across the sofa. “I'm serious, Mark. Now that we're married, she can't be calling here all hours of the night, expecting you to rush over and deal with some crisis she's manufactured for attention.”

“Reggie, she's my son's mother. I can't ignore her.”

“I didn't say you had to do that. I'm just saying give her boundaries. You already work together every day. How much of this handsome face does she need to see?”

“Don't be jealous,” Mark playfully admonished his wife. “And don't read more into it than it is. Lawson and I have been over a long time.”

“Yes,
we
know that, but I think sometimes she forgets.” Reginell followed Mark to the door. “Sister or no sister, I won't hesitate to throw some blows if that's what it takes to remind her!”

“No one can tell my story the way I can.”

 

–
Kina Battle

 

Kina's no-nonsense editor shook her head and drew a big red mark through Kina's manuscript. “No, no, no!” declared Terrilyn Smiley. “This won't do at all, Kina!”

“Are you serious?” asked Kina, seated across from Terrilyn's desk in her Atlanta office, which was as cold and uninviting as Terrilyn herself. “This is the third draft I've submitted to you!”

“And it's the third draft I've hated!” Terrilyn thrust the manuscript at Kina. “This is just a collection of flowery little anecdotes about your kid and your friends, with a few scriptures thrown in here and there. Where's the heart of your story? Where's the red meat?”

“You said it should be uplifting and encouraging to others,” Kina reminded her.

“No, I told you to write a cautionary tale about the price of fame and fortune. You were supposed to write about how you went from being a victim to a victor and how you lost it all—friends, the money, your scruples—in one fell swoop because you got greedy and selfish and didn't care who you had to trample over to get what you wanted. This book is supposed to be your comeback, Kina! It's your chance to tell your side of the story. The public knows your son shot and killed his father. What they want to know now is why and how you dealt with it. They know you claim to be this devout Christian, yet you got caught up in a scandalous affair with another woman and attempted to seduce your best friend's preacher husband.”

Kina corrected her. “I never had an affair with Charles.”

“But you wanted to, and you betrayed your friends and family once you got fame. Here's your opportunity to tell the world why.”

Kina offered up a few pages of the manuscript. “I thought I did that.”

Terrilyn shook her head. “The fact that you think this piece of crap did that is one of the many reasons why I'm bringing in a ghost writer.” Terrilyn buzzed her assistant. “Lola, will you send Desdemona in please?”

“Why are you bringing in a ghost writer?” questioned Kina. “
I
should be the one writing my book. No one can tell my story the way I can.”

“I need someone who can tell your story
better
than you can, which I why I'm bringing in Desdemona.” Terrilyn broke her stern scowl when she saw Desdemona standing in the doorway. “Come on in, Des. I want you to meet Kina. Kina, this is author extraordinaire Desdemona Price.”

Desdemona walked in and extended her hand to Kina. “It's great to finally meet you. I am a huge fan of
Lose Big
and was one of your biggest supporters.”

Kina's first thought was,
How in the world is this frumpy specimen in Bohemian rags, wearing glass jars where her eyes should be, going to be the best person to write about me?
Instead of asking the question aloud, Kina simply shook Desdemona's hand.

“Des is a fantastic writer,” bragged Terrilyn. “She's one of the best in the business. You'd be surprised by how many celebrities she's ghostwritten for. You should feel honored that she agreed to work with you on this book, Kina.”

Kina smiled politely. “No offense to you, Desdemona. I'm sure you're an excellent writer, but I don't really think I need any assistance in telling my story.”

Desdemona adjusted her glasses, confused. “Oh . . . I was under the impression that you needed my help.”

“She does!” answered Terrilyn. “And she will get it whether she likes it or not!”

Kina huffed. “Don't I have any say in this?”

“Your say-so with this book has been redirected to the circular file, along with this latest round of garbage you've written.”

“I don't think you're being fair,” insisted Kina.

Terrilyn stood up and stared Kina down. “You want to talk about fair? Kina, I went out on a limb for you! I pitched this book as a salacious tell-all and garnered you a nice five-figure advance. Not only is it your butt on the line if this book flops, but it's mine too, which I don't think is
fair.
Nor is it f
air
to me to let some sexually confused, fake Christian wannabe reality starlet screw up ten years of solid sales and a stellar reputation at this publishing company!”

“She didn't mean it like that,” said Desdemona, embarrassed for Kina.

“No, that's exactly how I meant it! Kina, you're on your fourteenth minute of fame. You have only a small window left to remain relevant in the public eye. The new season of
Lose Big
is already well under way. In a few weeks, they'll crown a new fatty, and you'll be last year's news. The only way to capitalize on the little bit of notoriety that you have left is to go big and go hard. I don't have the luxury of time to coddle you through this process. Desdemona is going to write the book, and that's all there is to it!”

“I'm not writing it alone,” Desdemona assured her. “Kina, you'll have lots of input. It's still very much your story. All I'm doing is bringing your words to life and putting your story down on paper in a way that the company can market and sell it. This is a partnership. You're as important to the equation as I am, and my only objective is for us to put out the best book possible.”

Terrilyn sat back down at her desk. “I'm sending Desdemona back to Savannah with you.”

Kina's eyes bulged. “What?”

“You heard me.” Terrilyn turned to her computer. “She's going to follow you. She's going to interview your friends. She'll even administer your next Pap smear if she has to! That's how well she will get to know you over the next couple of months.”

Desdemona shook her head. “Don't worry, Kina. I'll give you plenty of space. I'm renting a loft downtown, so you won't have to look at me twenty-four-seven. However, we will be spending a lot time together getting to know one another.”

Kina was flustered. “Does anyone even care what I have to say about this or how I feel?” she asked.

“No!” Terrilyn printed out a contract and handed it to Kina to sign. “Slap your John Hancock right here, and we'll be ready to get down to business.”

Kina skimmed over the first page. “What is this?”

“It is an agreement to let Des write the book. The contract is pretty cut and dry. It basically says everything Des and I told you.”

“Are you expecting me to pay her?”

“The publishing company pays her. You, of course, will pay us back in the form of future book sales.”

“What if it doesn't sell?”

“It will—trust me. Between Des's writing and the marketing push we're going to put behind it, it'll be a bestseller,” Terrilyn promised.

“That's all the more reason why I don't want people thinking she wrote this book instead of me,” argued Kina. “It'll hurt my brand.”

“You have to have a brand in order for it to be hurt,” barked Terrilyn.

“There's a confidentiality clause.” Desdemona pointed it out in the contract to Kina. “No one has to know I wrote it if you don't want them to.”

Kina copped an attitude. “What if I refuse to sign this?”

Terrilyn passed her a pen. “Then you can give back the twenty thousand we advanced you and get the you know what out of my office. Now sign it.”

“I know you have misgivings, but I promise you that nothing will go in this book that you didn't sanction, Kina,” swore Desdemona. “You have my word that this will be a book you can be proud of and a powerful legacy to leave behind for those who love you. You still have fans out there who rooted for you while you were on the show. They're vested. They believe in you and want to know everything there is to know about you. Let's work together and write this book for them.”

“Sign,” commanded Terrilyn.

Kina was still hesitant. At the very least she wanted time to pray and to have a lawyer look over the contract, but Terrilyn was breathing down her neck, signaling that time was of the essence. Seeing as how she'd already blown through a good percentage of the advance money, Kina tucked her tail between her legs and signed.