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Chapter 18
Quintessa
“Girl, what was that about?”Zahara asks as I approach them after abandoning Essex on the dance floor.
“What do you mean?” I ask her.
“It looked like you two were arguing.”
“Well, you know Essex. Arguing is his middle name.”
“Oh, it’sEssexnow,” she says. “Since when did you get on a first-name basis with the CEO?”
Dang! I slipped and let my guard down. It’s difficult to keep up the façade, especially when love is involved. I reply, “I’m not. I just—where’d Greta go?”
“She went to get some more food. She’s been eating nonstop since we got here.”
I look around, lowkey trying to see where Essex is. I spot him standing opposite of me on the opposite side of the pool. Even with the sunglasses, I can tell he’s looking at me, probably still fuming. I look away and ask Zahara, “Where’s Jake and Ian?”
“They’re on the beach. I think Jake said something about a volleyball net being set up out there.”
“And we’re supposed to play volleyball in formal attire.”
“Of course. That’s what makes it fun.” She looks down at my feet and says, “You wearing that dress, by the way, and those shoes—looks like you borrowed them things from Shanice.”
I chuckle. “Where is she at, anyway?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure she’s somewhere twerking, hoping to catch Mr. DePaul’s attention.”
I take a glass of champagne from a serving tray and take a long gulp. I wish I would see Shanice trying to throw her big ol’ booty in my man’s face. I’ma go full WWE out here.
I glance over across the pool again to see my husband. He’s still there, staring. While Zahara is busy flirting with the waiter, I take a moment to appreciate Essex. He has on a black tux, similar to the one he wore on our wedding day. He’s always put together. I’ve never seen him disheveled. He cares about himself and what he represents.
He’s upset about something we’ve already discussed, and while I know he wants us to benormal, I still need time to ease into this – to get used to the idea of us without these people being all up in my business.
Ella approaches me with a glass of brown liquor – not good considering I know she was drinking vodka earlier. I say, “There you are. Where have you been?”
She says, “Excuse us for a moment,” then throws her arms around me to catch her balance as we walk across the courtyard.
“Ella, where are we going?”
“I’m taking you somewhere private, Mrs. DePaul, so we can have a little chatty chat.”
Ella clearly has had too much to drink. Her words are slurred. She got alcohol sloshing out of her glass. At the top of her lungs, she’s singing ‘Climb Every Mountain’ from that movie, The Sound of Music. I shake my head. I didn’t bring my best friend out here to get wasted. Attempting to quiet her a little. I say, “Ella, how many drinks have you had?”
“Only ‘bout two eleven.”
I cover my mouth and laugh. “Ella, I can’t believe you. Give me this freakin’ glass.” I set it on an empty table.
“Hey, give me back my drink,” she whines.
“No, ma’am. You’ve had quite enough. You should know better not to mix brown and white liquor. It’s one or the other. Did we not learn that in college? I should take you home.”
“Me not taking you’re nowhere!” she tells me, talking crazy. “The party is just getting started, baby! Woo! Shots, shots, shots!”
“Okay, Ella, listen. Quiet down a little.”
“I don’t know why you’re asking me,” she says, bending over with her hands resting just above her kneecaps. “I just got here.”
