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  The Ugly Girlfriend

  Latrivia S. Nelson

  The Ugly Girlfriend

  Copyright © 2010 by Latrivia S. Nelson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the authoror RiverHouse Publishing, LLC.

  FBI Anti-Piracy Warning:

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This book is dedicated to my faithful fans, blog participants and radio show listeners. I hope that you enjoy.

  Helena:

  "Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind."

  A Midsummer Night's Dream (I, i, 234)

  William Shakespeare

  Chapter One

  Club Play Pen was packed nearly past code violation with yuppies and athletes by midnight. Blaring house music and multi-colored strobe lights added chaos to the crowds intermingling between the inside of the club and the open patio leading out to the cool breeze of downtown Phoenix.

  While everyone else seemingly enjoyed themselves, LaToya Jenkins rounded the dance floor with her frozen drink carefully tucked into the tight embrace of her hands, avoiding the small hovels of prim and proper women to get to the booth where her friends waited for her.

  This wasn’t exactly her scene. It was her close friend, Angela, 35thbirthday, and in celebration, the girls had agreed to take her out. So, here LaToya was in a crowded club being ignored by the entire male population again, while Angela gyrated on the dance floor with the tenth guy on her dance card.

  “Sorry it took so long,” LaToya apologized with a huff as she arrived back at the booth. Her two friends looked up from their conversation and scooted over in unison to give her some room.

  LaToya was a big girl. Well, she was bigger than they were. Gracefully toting a few extra pounds, she was the heaviest of her little clique of four. Size 14 to be exact and heavy chested, as her mother had called her.

  She pushed into the leather booth and sat her drink in front of her. The prickles of her pantyhose rubbed against her legs and clung to her sweaty thighs.

  I hate these things, she thought to herself as she tried to put on a happy face. Inside, she wished that she could have been at home curled up to a good book.

  “What took you so long, girl?” Deana asked, moving her long, black weave from her oval face with her French-tipped acrylic nail.

  “The bartender kept ignoring me,” LaToya answered frustrated. “ButI finally got a guy to order for me.” The young, female bartender scantily dressed in a purple peek-a-boo outfit straight out Fredrick’s of Hollywood had ignored anyone who wasn’t extremely handsome or a size zero, which was why she had finally resorted to outsourcing her order to someone more desirable.

  “A guy, huh?” Kristen, her other, friend chimed in. “What did the chivalrous knight look like? Rich? Powerful? Cute?”

  “All of the above. He’s one of my clients,” LaToya explained with a faint grin. “I ran into him outside of the bathroom. So, when he came up to the bar, I asked him to get my drink.”

  Pulling the straw to her lips, she sipped her drink. Too strong, she thought to herself as she pushed it away. All of that effort for nothing. Figures.

  “You said all of the above?” Kristen continued. “Where is he?”

  LaToya turned in the booth and looked towards the bar. From their elevated position over the dance floor, she could clearly see the large man. He was still standing in the same position talking to a group of women and laughing. Once she was sure that he wouldn’t notice her, she pointed towards him. “The tall brother in the white shirt,” she said, taking another sip of her drink. She might as well get her money’s worth. “His name is Byron. He’s an architect for the biggest firm in Phoenix.”

  All eyes quickly shifted towards the bar. She could feel their collective attention drawing towards the money.

  “Where?” Kristen asked squinting. “There are like six men over there with white shirts on.”

  Deana hastily slid on her glasses and scanned the room.

  LaToya was always amazed at her friends and their shameless pursuits of the overrated opposite sex. “He’s the really dark brother with the jeans on and the white button down shirt. He’s right there by the white guy,” she said, pointing again.

  “Oh, now I see him.” Kristen licked her lips. Her hazel-contact clad eyes widened.

  “He sees us too,” Deana said, pulling at the sides of her strapless dress. “Look, look, he’s waving,” Kristen said in a high pitched voice.

  They all waved back, including LaToya, who was simply glad that she knew someone worth knowing in this place.

  “Oh snap. He’s coming over.” Kristen turned quickly. She pulled out her compact and checked her lipstick.

  Deana followed suit.

  “Why do you two bother? You look amazing,” LaToya said to her friends.

  “Andhe’s bringing over the white boy. So, someone get’s the leftovers,” Deana giggled as she eyed them from her mirror.

  LaToya didn’t bother to freshen up. She knew that they weren’t coming over to talk to her. This was the exact same thing that happened every time that they all went out. The men gathered to talk to her friends and completely ignored her.

  Minutes later, Byron strode confidently to their booth with his friend in tow. They smiled like chest cats, eyeing the women who quietly cooed after them.

  “Good evening, Ladies,” Bryon greeted over the music while looking at LaToya. His bright brown eyes sparkled with mischief. He knew that he was a catch. And so did they.

  Byron was the normal Ebony Man of the Year. Tall. Dark. Homicidally handsome. Educated. Successful. His list went on and on.

  His chiseled jaw clenched tight as he looked over his pickings. With one hand in his jean pocket and the left hand out to show them that he was not married, he stood like a runway model awaiting one of the women to fall before him like a human offering. LaToya bet that Deana would be first.

  They all blushed and said hello in unison, all accept LaToya. Was it possible that he was actually coming over to say something to her? He hadn’t taken his gaze off her since he walked up.

  She bit her bottom lip and waited. A shiver raced up her spine and caused goose bumps to form on her bare arms.

  “LaToya, I’d like to introduce you to Mitch. He’s a colleague of mine,” Byron said, putting his hand on the attractive white man’s shoulder. He looked at his friend with pride.

  “Hi, Mitch,” LaToya said blushing.

  “Hello, LaToya, it’s nice to meet you,” Mitch said with a thick accent.

  Great. Two hotties, she thought to herself.

  Mitch was breathtaking as well. His green eyes sparkled but not with the same mischief as Byron’s. There was something else looming in his unwavering gaze. His tanned face was framed by dark curly locks with a few streaks of distinguished gray, heavy arched eyebrows, light sprinkles of freckles across his straight nose and a clever charm that radiated from his bright smile. His wide, full lips were curved into a kiss above a dimpled chin. But in all of his undeniable outward beauty, could it be that he was shy?

  She found that normal. White men tended to be tighter-lipped around black women here. And that was probably smart. The women at this table were like vultures.

  Chuckling under her breath at the thought, she inadvertently made eye contact with him.

  He smiled back as if understanding her sudden amusement. This time his look was different. Curious.

  LaToya was speechless, and so were the rest of the girls.
<
br />   So, did this man wanted to talk to LaToya? Had she finally landed one?

  Byron’s voice boomed, “I was just telling Mitch what a hell of a job you’ve done with my place, LaToya. You see, even though he’s a great architect, he’s one lousyhouse keeper. So, I was wondering if you might...consider taking him on as a new client?”

  “Yes, I really need some help,” Mitch said, fishing out his wallet. He pulled out his crisp, white business card and passed it to her.

  All the women melted over his accent. Irish? Scottish?

  Bryon picked up on the unspoken question. “Mitch originally hails from Dublin, hence the horrible accent. He just moved here about a year ago from our New York office, and he still hasn’t gotten into the Arizona swing of things.”

  “Living here takes some getting used to.” LaToya took the card and looked at it blankly. Why did she get her hopes up anymore? She would have been thrilled to have Bryon interested in more than just her cleaning services, but she would have settled for the white boy just to save face.

  LaToya’s friends looked down, embarrassed for her. They all thought that she had finally found a prospect for the bed; instead, she’d just picked up a possible prospect for her business. It was somewhat comical in a way. History continued to repeat itself for the poor girl.

  “Okay, Mitch,” she said, trying to hide her sudden disgust. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” She looked back up at him and sighed. Pain pulled at the sides of her nearly quivering mouth.

  “Sounds wonderful. I actually have guests coming soon. So, I’ll pay extra if you can fit me in ASAP,” Mitch said eagerly.

  LaToya smiled and put the business card in the pocket of her purse. She was relieved when Angela suddenly returned from the dance floor on cue, sweaty and drunk. Still laughing, she nearly fell over the men when she tried to sit down.

  Bryon turned to Angela with a different look. His smile was much bigger now. Evidently, he had found his prize. Catching her in his strong grip as she nearly fell into him, he laughed.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, touching her a little more than he had to.

  “Great...now,” Angela answered. She looked up into his eyes and swallowed hard. A suggestive look passed between the two. Sparks flew and suddenly the rest of the group was dim.

  The queen of the ball had officially arrived. Angela was always the center of attention. Her fair skin, bright brown eyes, long real hair and a body from hell commanded attention not only from men but also from women. It had been as such for the entirety of her privileged existence.

  The attention quickly turned from the awkward moment with LaToya to the tipsy beauty in front of them. In honesty, she was grateful. She could feel the pity emanating from around the table. Instead, she preferred for people to ignore her. It was better than being the central focus of a misunderstanding. Case in point, the white guy. Raising her eyebrow, she looked down at her now watered down drink and wished the night away.

  However, even as she sat silently brooding, she felt Mitch still looking at her. She tried to glance away. What did he want now? A babysitter? A nurse? Ugh. Men,she thought as Angela giggled again.

  Chapter Two

  Early morning came quickly. LaToya pulled herself out of her full-sized bed and leaned over the side. Hitting the alarm on her I-pod clock radio, she snuggled her feet into her furry, pink slippers and made her way to the bathroom. Hair in a bun, she turned on the shower and grabbed her toothbrush.

  On her mirror was a huge yellow note. LOSE 30 POUNDS! Looking up at the Post-It, she brushed her teeth in circular rotations as the dentist had instructed and shook her head. That note had been there for two months and since then, she had put on threepounds. The thought was depressing.

  An hour later, she was at the Redmond’s home with her cleaning crew preparing their house for a party that weekend and cleaning up from a party the night before.

  Some people loved the social scene, and that number most definitely included the Redmond’s. They were a strange but happy couple. Two cosmetic surgeons who had a flare for the eccentric and knew everyone who was anyone in Phoenix. They were also one of her best clients.

  It was a beautiful day outside. Around the pool, as she stuffed plastic plates and glasses into a huge, black garbage bag, she looked up at the blue sky and felt completely at peace. Life was good for her outside of being a lonely, young hag. She had a small business that was thriving, a small home that she loved, and friends and family who loved her. Plus, an hour ago, Barnes and Noble had called her and said that her new order of books had arrived. She couldn’t wait to pick them up, get home and start her latest crime/romance series. It was almost like a hot date. In fact, it was a date.

  Her employee, Marie, walked past her and smiled. LaToya snapped out of her daze and got back to work. She would think of her datelater.

  After the house was cleaned and the van had been loaded by the crew, she saw them off and headed to lunch. It was then that she thought about the embarrassing night before and the Irish fellow, Mitch. Mitch! Shit! She was supposed to call him back.

  Still driving, she reached over into her purse on the passenger seat and felt through her well-organized pockets to find Mitch’s card.

  Money was money. She dialed him quickly on her Bluetooth and listened to the phone ring. Preparing to leave a message, she was shocked when he picked up.

  “Hello,” an Irish accent greeted.

  “Mitch.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s LaToya from last night.”

  “Oh, wonderful. Good to hear back from you, LaToya.”

  “Good to talk to you as well. After meeting you last night, I am following up to see if you are still interested in hiring my cleaning service.”

  “Yes, very much.”

  “Great. When would be a good time to come by and assess your home needs?”

  “Now, actually. I’ve just arrived back, and I’ll be here for a while. Is right now a good time for you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay. I’m in Scottsdale in Sonoran Hills off the 01 loop. Go to N. Scottsdale Road to East Adobe. I’m on Manana Drive. Do you know where that is?”

  “I can find it. I have another client not far from there.”

  “Great. Well, I’ll text you my exact address, and I’ll see you in a bit.”

  “Alright, I’ll be there in about 30 minutes.”

  LaToya made a u-turn in the street and headed east.

  She had two ways at looking at last night. She could whine about being the odd one out again, or she could use every opportunity to get a new client. Honestly, she preferred the cleaning contract. While her friends were off getting laid, she’d be getting rich.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, LaToya pulled up in a winter green Mini-Cooper to the private drive of Mitch O'Keeffe. It was tranquil, upscale split-level situated on a hill in the middle of the community. She parked and went to the front door. Before she could ring the bell, Mitch opened it.

  “LaToya,” he said, happy to see her. Stepping aside, he motioned for her to come in. “Wasn’t too hard to find, I hope.”

  “No, I just locked the address into my GPS,” she said, stepping inside. Her feet echoed on the tile floor.

  He stepped outside the door and looked at her car. “I love those things. Did you have yours customized?”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said, looking around. She ignored his small talk. How big of mess did he have for her?

  Mitch closed the door and walked behind her. “So, do you want to walk around and take a look?”

  “Do you mind?”

  “No, not at all.” He clasped his hands together. “Would like something to drink? I have soda, water, beer...”

  “No, I’m fine.” She walked slowly through the large corridor and checked out the many large rooms piled high with unopened boxes.

  Good grief, she thought to herself. This place is a wreck.

  “And you say that you�
��ve been here a year?” she asked, taking out a notepad and pen.

  “Yes. When I first arrived here, I had a crazy work schedule that I just assumed would calm down at some point. Needless to say that it never did.”

  “So you want my team to go through all the boxes too?” She scribbled something on her pad.

  He looked at her hands. “No, some of those boxes are going to be picked up soon. My ex is coming to get them in the next couple of days.”

  LaToya looked back at him. He had a pained looked on his face. It must have been a touchy subject, but she had to find out what exactly he wanted.

  “I can have thoseboxes out in the garage by the time that you’re ready to start the process, if she fails to collect them. It’ll just be my things in here by the time that you start.”

  “Okay.” She put her foot on the first step of his wooden stairwell and looked back at him for approval.

  “Please, go on,” he urged.

  His eyes told her that he had a very uneventful life. Most single men had places that they didn’t want the cleaning service to invade. They would always walk her through each room, scanning it first for inappropriate objects like panties, dildos, porno. If they spotted something, they would immediately grab it up and stuff it away for later. Only later, she would get the contract and find it anyway. She had just about seen everything since she started her business. However, Mitch let her meander around alone. Yep, uneventful.

  As she made her way up the crowed staircase, she noticed that he kept averting his eyes to the front door.

  Holding on to the stairwell banister, she looked down curiously at him. Was he trying something?

  “Are you waiting for someone?” she finally asked.

  “Yes, but she won’t be here until 3:45,” he explained. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

  “Alright.”

  LaToya went up the stairs and looked around at each of the disheveled rooms. The huge master bedroom was basically an office with a bed in it, piled high with papers and coffee cups, blueprints and binders. The guest bedroom down the hall had been turned into a home gym, and the last bedroom was locked. She twisted the doorknob and then let go. Maybe this was his private place. Every man had one. There was no telling what was inside. And she didn’t want to know.