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30
Lorenzo’s book release party was held in the ballroom at the Sable Inn. The space was decorated in black from the table cloths to the chair covers to the plates on the tables. The centerpieces even consisted of black roses in black vases. A huge replica of the cover of Bulletproof 3: Origins—a young black male toddler in a t-shirt, jeans, and Timberlands holding a toy gun, with a tilted crown on his head and a pool of blood surrounding his feet—covered a portion of the wall near the room’s entrance, serving as a backdrop for pictures to be taken. A red carpet stretched all the way from the hotel’s front entrance to the ballroom.
Bulletproof 3 was the story of Cali, the villain in book one. In it, readers learn about his life, tragic upbringing, and how he came to be the ruthless drug lord Monty despised. I’d read it and was floored by how good it was despite the fact that I already knew Lorenzo had skills. I was so proud of him, not only for the phenomenal job he did writing the book, but also because this was the first book he released through his own company, Zo Publications (Stylized with a line through the Z in Zo). In attendance were two other authors he’d signed in recent months—Lady Kane and Greg Tremble. I’d read their submissions and truly believed Zo Publications was about to totally change the fiction game.
About thirty lucky readers were invited, and from the way the space was filling up, it looked like they were all there, with a few bringing dates. Also in attendance were more than a few book bloggers, about a dozen book industry movers and shakers—including Lorenzo’s now former agent—a couple of local reporters, Lorenzo’s mother and sister, my sisters and their men, and me. I had invited my mother, but she had other plans, as seemed to always be the case with her recently.
The dress code was all white everything, Lorenzo wore a white tuxedo. I wore a white body-con dress with a plunging v-neckline and off-the-shoulder ruffle frill detail that stopped just above my knees. I looked hot. I mean, I looked scorching hot. I knew I looked hot even before Lorenzo told me. This was something I never would’ve worn before being with him. He just made me feel so damn sexy and comfortable in my skin. Hence, I decided to pair the dress with white, lace-up corset heels.
My ensemble made me look so good, I almost turned myself on.
Instead of my usual ponytail, my bone straight hair was parted in the middle and fell to my shoulders. The only jewelry I wore was a pair of diamond stud earrings Lorenzo had given me as a gift a few weeks into our relationship before I made it plain to him that expensive jewelry wasn’t really my thing. My love language was quality time, not gift giving. And Lorenzo? His, of course, was physical touch.
“Shit, Doc. I don’t know how much longer I’ma be able to let you keep that dress on. You look so good I can’t think straight,” Lorenzo whispered in my ear, as we stood near the entrance greeting guests.
“Really? Do I look that good?”
“You literally look good enough to eat, over and over and over—”
“Hey, daddy! Long time no seeee!”
I frowned at the loud voice coming from…somewhere. I didn’t have to wonder about the source of the outburst long, though, because Sofia Vergara quickly stepped from behind Lorenzo and into view.
I looked at Lorenzo and lifted an eyebrow.
With a frown on his face, he said, “Veda? How the hell you get in here?”
“With this,” she said, holding up an invitation. “I’ve always been a fan, remember, papi? That’s how we met, at one of your book signings. I was one of your randomly selected guests for tonight.”
“Ain’t that a bitch?” he mumbled.
She pursed her lips. “I’m not here to cause no trouble, Zo. I just wanted to congratulate you, even though you’ve been ignoring me.” She shifted her eyes to me. “You could’ve told me you moved on. I mean, all we were doing was fucking, right? It’s not like you cared about me or anything, right?! Right?! RIGHT?! ¡Te odio, idiota! Motherfuckerrrrrrr!”
My eyes widened as her voice grew louder and louder and she became more and more unhinged by the second, eyes bugged, arms flailing as she made these wild gestures with her hands, neck rolling, hair swinging from side to side.
Lorenzo looked like he either wanted to run away or disappear. “Veda, don’t do this shit right now. I don’t wanna have to call the cops on you to get you out of here. You’ve got kids.”
“I know I have kids, you fucker! I also have a heart and a soul, unlike you! You just threw me away for-for her?! I gave you allll this pussy repeatedly, repetidamente, and you gonna do me like this?! ¿De verdad?! You sonuvvabitch!”
“You need to leave my mother out of this shit,” Lorenzo shot back.
Then she started strictly speaking Spanish, her words tumbling out of her mouth so fast that it was hard to distinguish one from the other. I knew Spanish, took it in high school and college, and could hold a native speaker a decent conversation, but the only words I could make out were ass, bitch, and something I roughly translated as limp dick. And well, that was when I knew she was a loon. He might’ve been an ass to her, but he definitely wasn’t a bitch, and I’d never known him to have any erectile dysfunction whatsoever. I was a couple of years younger than Lorenzo, and his ever-ready ass stayed wearing me out.
So I tapped him on the shoulder, and when he tore his eyes away from Sofia or Venus or whatever her name was, I said, “I’m going to the ladies’ room. Be right back,” and kissed him on the cheek.
I had barely stepped out of the ballroom when both of my sisters accosted me. “Who is that chica in the Rainbow clearance rack jumpsuit in there all up in your man’s face? Does her ass need to be handled?” Nicky asked. Nicky was so tiny, a strong wind would blow her over, but I didn’t doubt she could probably clamp her legs around a person and get in a couple of good licks.
“Yeah, because ole girl is in there being mad disrespectful!” Angie said.
The two of them followed me into the restroom as I said, “I never confronted those women Robert cheated with and he was my husband. I’m not about to confront one over Zo. He can handle her.”
“Okay, I guess that’s the mature thing to do,” Angie admitted.
“Screw that! We ain’t talking about Robert the Alien Xenomorph here. We’re talking about Lorenzo. Big-ole-thick, sexy-juicy-ass Lorenzo! Girl, you better go peel that Quinceañera ho’ off your man!” Nicky declared.
From inside the stall, I said, “Now you’re exaggerating. She wasn’t even touching him…was she?”
“Shit, your ass left. She could have her tongue down his throat by now!”
