Frieda clicked the locks on her shiny new Lexus LX and slid inside. Ever since she'd purchased the pearl wonder with light tan seats, she'd given to wearing outfits and/or accessories in the same color, often finished off with Louboutin pumps and pearl-colored Gucci shades. Frieda's picture could have appeared next to the word materialistic, but she didn't mind. She'd learned how in LA image was everything. She had faked it until she made it and snagged a doctor in the process. Thinking of Gabriel, the hardworking husband and sponsor of the designer duds she wore, caused a tiny tinge of guilt as she turned down Martin Luther King Boulevard and headed toward where she used to live. Passing row after row of modest apartments much like the one she'd rented upon arrival from Kansas City, she reflected on her journey from then till now, and how far she'd come in less than five years.
When she'd left the Midwest and a drug-slinging boyfriend to join her cousin and best friend, Hope Taylor, in the City of Angels, all she'd hoped for was a good time. And now here she was a wife and mother, living in a tony Westside neighborhood amid five-thousand square feet of luxury, a bank account courtesy of her husband that never boasted less than five figures, credit cards with no limits, a chef, a maid, and a nanny/housekeeper. Sometimes she had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. And sometimes she had to do what she was doing now . . . .go slumming for something that money couldn't buy--a thick piece of sausage.
"Get in here, girl," a tall brothah said as he opened his apartment door. His island accent was as sexy as his long thick locks, his ebony skin, his straight white teeth, and his washboard abs. "You know me don't like to wait for ya."
Two hours later a totally satiated and satisfied Frieda left the hood and headed back toward the Westside, and her appointment at the spa. Her phone rang and as she looked at the dash, she again felt a twinge of guilt. The last thing in the world she ever thought would happen was that she'd go soft. The old Frieda wouldn't have given two hoots about what anybody else thought or felt. Undoubtedly her cousin would attribute it to the Holy Spirit that Hope swore never left Frieda's side. I hope that Brothah took a break just now. Otherwise He got an eyeful! Frieda thought it was less likely divine intervention and more probably motherhood that had unearthed the heart she'd buried during her teenage years, fending for herself on Prospect Avenue, perhaps dug up by the three-year-old who had both his parents wrapped around his finger. Or maybe it's you, she thought, reaching to connect the call. She could honestly say she loved the somewhat stodgy, somewhat geeky doctor whose work was his passion. Even though he bored her to tears.
"Hello ." Frieda turned down the sounds blasting from her speakers as she spoke.
"Where are you?" Gabriel Livingston's voice was just short of curt. "I've called you three times."
"I've been out running errands," she said.
"Cordella said you've been gone for hours."
That nosy housekeeper needs to mind her own business! Frieda made a mental note to speak to her at the next opportunity. Sistah-girl wouldn't get fired as long as her tenderoni son was handling that pipe like he did, but his mama was definitely going to have to put her mouth on lock. "After my workout I went to get my weekly massage, then went shopping"-screwing but hey, they both have eight letters and start with an S-"so yeah, I guess I've been gone for a while."
"You can't keep doing this, Frieda. Spending your afternoons gallivanting while Cordella watches our child. In the two years that she's worked for us, I'm beginning to think Gabe considers the nanny his mom ."
"Did you call to make me feel bad about taking care of myself?"
Gabriel's exasperated huff came through the phone. "I called to tell you about a dinner engagement tonight with a prominent couple from DC. An unexpected change of plans has them here for the evening, time enough to make an impression that will hopefully result in a large donation for the new oncology ward." He told her the name of the restaurant. "Reservations are at eight."
"Looks like it's a good thing I'm on my way to the spa," Frieda purred. "So I can look good and help impress your guests."
By the time the call ended, Frieda knew that she'd flipped the frown that had undoubtedly marked Gabriel's face when the call began. She turned up the music again as she thought about how opposite she was from Gabriel in so many ways, and how her vibrant personality was what had drawn him to her like a hummingbird to sugar water. He was often exasperated with her, but a witty quip, flirty phrase, or naughty innuendo could usually brighten his mood. He's so easy to manipulate. And when it came to fathers, there were none better. That heart that Frieda liked to ignore constricted a bit. She really did love Gabriel. He'd do anything for her, and even more for his namesake, the namesake that every day was looking less and less like the good doctor and more and more like one of the men Frieda used to know.
( Continued...)
Order The Eleventh Commandment by Lutishia Lovely
Coming to a bookstore near you Feb 26, 2013
ISBN-10: 0758286627
ISBN-13: 978-0758286628
About the Author
Lutishia Lovely is an award-winning author of seventeen novels, six of which are romance titles written under her alter-ego pseudo, Zuri Day. In addition to her wildly popular Hallelujah Love Series, Ms. Lovely has a hot new trilogy called "The Business" about a soul food dynasty where delicious drama and sizzling scandal is always on the menu!
Prior to becoming a full-time author, Lutishia enjoyed many different careers. They all, however, had one thing in common - they all were linked into a "world of words". From administrative assistant to radio personality to actor to managing editor and senior writer for a holistic magazine,words have always been the magic that made Lutishia's world go 'round. Probably one of the spins that would most surprise readers is the fact that Lutishia was a rapper! That's right, for a short stint in the 90s, Lutishia was billed as "The Rhaptress" (a combination of a rapper and an actress), and toured with other singers and musicians throughout southern CA. She's happy now to beat out a rhythm on her keyboard...songs in the key of "writer" that she hopes will inspire and entertain!
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