Page 44 of Not About That Life
Five
When we arrive at the gala, we’re immediately greeted by flashing light bulbs from a variety of news sources. Out of all of the galas during the year, this is always the biggest one and for good reason – it’s literally a Who’s Who in the socialite and celebrity world. It’s the L.A. version of the notorious Met Gala in New York.
There is a huge crowd on the outside. There are many news and fashion reporters/bloggers. There are many fans waiting to see a sneak peek of their favorite celebrity. There are tons of police and security keeping the crowd behind the barricaded gates.
Knowing how big the publicity was tonight, I made the conscience decision to wear my ginormous ring on my right hand, deciding to pair my outfit with a funky cocktail ring on the left. Here’s hoping the paparazzi would be too stupid to notice.
We walk upstairs to the Ferguson and are immediately greeted by well-wishers and onlookers. I make polite chitchat while Ian schmoozes and talks rich white people stuff with the attendees.
I excuse myself to go to the nearest bathroom to refresh my look. As I check myself, I see an older, regal woman exiting one of the stalls. Seeing her made my heart stop as my eyes widened. She looked like royalty.
Elegant. Class. Power. Wealth. She was all of that and then some. She wore an all-white ivory gown, with a matching head wrap. Large diamond studs graced her ears. Her makeup was bold in numerous purples, greens, and golden hues.
Her brown skin looked like the sun kissed it. I immediately felt the need to bow down. My gosh, she was gorgeous!
“Hello,” she replied with a thick accent from a country I couldn’t place. “How are you?”
“I’m doing well.” The woman immediately made me feel self-conscious though her attitude didn’t imply any negative thoughts. “How are you?”
“Doing well,” she washed her hands and the attendant gave her a hot towel. She opened her clutch and spritzed a few sprays on her skin. “Did you want to try this? I made it myself.”
I didn’t want to decline but I wasn’t sure if what would smell great on her, wouldn’t smell like cat piss on me. “Sure.” I let the older woman spray a little on me and I’m amazed at how great it smells. I recognize the floral and fruit notes with a touch of vanilla. It smells intoxicatingly sweet. I already love it. “This is amazing.”
“A woman has to possess certain panache to wear this. It’s not for everybody.” Her voice is like warm tea. She soothes her hands over my tightly pulled bun; the same way a mother would if she was double-checking her daughter’s hair before pictures. I don’t realize how much I missed my mother’s touch until that moment. She pulls back a little and smiles a great, bright smile. “There. Perfect. Just like a princess. You keep that bottle. I have a ton more back home.” She then leaves.
I turn back to see my appearance in the mirror. I have a fresh glow but it’s unclear if it was from the wild sex or the desperately-needed mother’s touch I just encountered. Maybe it’s both.
~~~~~
I rejoin Ian and the rest of the Fergusons as their talking to a group of people. The same woman I just saw in the bathroom a few minutes ago is chatting with them. I quickly join the group and stand beside Ian.
“Ah, Domi, you’re back.” Ian kisses my cheek. “I would like you to meet our honored guest for this evening. Dominique, this is Queen Esi. She has donated numerous amounts of money all over the United States, specializing in helping African-American children and teens pursue careers in the arts and sciences. Every year, she pays for them and their families to visit her kingdom in Ghana.”
I feel my stomach bottom out. The woman who just nurtured me like if I was her daughter was Kwesi’s mother. That could only mean Kwesi is nearby. “Pleasure to meet you formally,” I shake her hand, “we were already acquainted with each other.”
“What a beautiful spirit she is,” Queen Esi begins, “Ian, you’re a very lucky man.”
“I am,” Ian smiles at me.
“Oh, and he’s finally here! I was wondering where you were!” Queen Esi admonishes someone who appears by her side. “Ian and Dominique, this is my youngest son, Kwesi.”
I turn to face Kwesi and my heart almost stops. He’s dressed in a tuxedo and his skin is almost shimmering, as if he was dipped into golden dark chocolate. His beard is trimmed and his teeth are blindingly white. “Dominique, we meet again.”
“Oh?” Ian turns to me with a curiosity in his eyes. “You two have met before?”
“When I was getting the ring appraised,” I slowly reply, knowing it’s a story Ian didn’t know about and carefully watch his reaction. “We were in the same jewelry store.”
Kwesi’s eyes go straight to the cocktail ring that’s on my left and he looks at me. “It was a beautiful ring.”
I feel the heat rise to my cheeks and I briefly touch one, hoping it’s not too obvious. “It is.”
“Great! I can have a picture of all you together!” A photographer comes towards us. “Can I have all of you stand together?”
“Sure!” Gerald chimes in. “This is a great opportunity for a photo.”
We all take our places in the photo. Anthony, Elise, and Emma are to the right of Queen Esi, while Gerald, Ian and me are to her left. Kwesi, and his brother, Kofi, are flanking their mother. To my left is Ian. To my right is Kwesi.
I’m literally between both men.
