Episode 4: Sour Truth
Sugar’s mouth fell open at Teagan’s words, a sour shock boiling in her stomach.
Lance was here?
Her heartbeat quickened, and her breath caught in her throat.
“I know he’s lost his damn mind coming up in here,” Mallory growled.
“Lory, watch your mouth before a customer hears you,” she hissed, swatting his shoulder hard.
“You want me to handle this, Shug? He and I can go for broke outside,” he fumed but complied with her by lowering his voice.
Sugar smiled tightly, stating in a low tone through clenched teeth, “Yes, Lory, go beat him up outside so the customers can have some entertainment with their cocktails and desserts. Brilliant idea. Now, chill out.”
He pursed his lips. His struggling restraint twitched in his brow.
“Thank you,” she said, shifting her focus back to Teagan. “Where is he?”
Teagan pointed the way, and she left the server’s station. She found him seated at a table near a short, circular platform containing a grand piano.
He wasn’t alone.
He was with his wife, Mariah.
They enjoyed their desserts and sipped on white wine.
“What a surprise,” Sugar said as politely as she could.
Lance had been in mid-gulp when she arrived at their table. After swallowing, he returned the wineglass to the table with a broad smile.
“It’s good to see you, Sugar,” he greeted. “Really good.”
The chipper greeting caught her off-guard, causing her brows to scrunch briefly in bewilderment. Mariah eyed her in a nasty-nice manner while sliding a forkful of chocolate-drizzled strawberry cheesecake into her pouty mouth.
Sugar cleared her throat, lacing her fingers together. “To what do I owe the honors?”
“It’s a night out on the town for us. It’s been a long while since we’ve had some time to ourselves,” he said. “We thought this was the perfect place for a date.”
Their son was about nine months old now. It was a detail that she hated she knew.
“Must be very difficult being new parents,” Sugar returned.
Mariah’s perfect smile showed off her perfect teeth. “Extremely, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. There’s just something special about being a mother. I think it’s the most important job any woman could ever have.”
Despite the sharp jab, Sugar didn’t react, refusing to give the woman the satisfaction.
She then took stock of her ex-husband’s second wife.
Mariah’s flawless brown skin and expensive cream-hued dress glowed in the moody amber lighting of the restaurant. She wore a long, high ponytail. All Sugar could think about was grabbing it and yanking her to the floor for a swift kick to the face.
“Well, this restaurant is my baby,” Sugar said, “and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m sorry to cut this reunion short, but I have other important matters to tend to...”
As she turned to leave, her ex-husband stated, “Technically, this restaurant is mine just as much as it is yours, don’t you think? I gave you the seed money needed to bring this to life.”
Sugar froze as his words struck her like a runaway train hitting a brick wall. She blinked, processing his audacity.
Lance returned his wineglass to his lips, his amused eyes never leaving her.
Of course, after all her hard work, he craved some type of credit or recognition. He wouldn’t have been him if he didn’t try. For years, he swatted away the concept of Sugar Mama off like a pestering fly every time she brought it up. Now, that it was alive and thriving, he wanted to pretend he was the reason for her success.
Sugar earned that settlement money.
She suffered and sacrificed day in and day out for eighteen years for that money. Her reward was long overdue. When she was a nineteen-year-old newlywed, she dropped out of college and worked multiple jobs to put him through college and support them. She did that for five grueling years.
She kept food on the table and always had it prepared for him. In between the shifts, Sugar kept that tiny apartment spotless. She was his study buddy and his tutor.
She had her first pregnancy at the ripe age of twenty years old but miscarried in her first trimester because she wouldn’t slow down. She didn’t have time to mourn or cry. Instead, she continued working herself to the bone for their survival.
All because she once loved him more than life itself.
Sugar stubbornly held his gaze.
No, he didn’t make her. She made him. She made him a successful man, but his own doing made him a monster.
Sugar snickered coldly, narrowing her eyes. “That’s a big stretch, Lance, and you know it.”
He shrugged with a grin.
“I think I should get a plaque dedicated to me or a big, framed picture of me on the wall. No, no. I’ve got it,” Lance said, snapping his fingers as a new idea came to him. “You should honor me by inventing a new signature drink. I know Lory can come up with something nice that encompasses my personality. Maybe, he can put a mystery ingredient in there too.”
Mariah giggled in approval. “Oh, a mystery ingredient would be perfect, baby.”
Sugar felt nauseated at the woman’s attempt to stroke Lance’s ego, but it sickened her even more that it was working.
“I’m glad you think so,” he said as he took his wife’s hand and kissed the back of it. A nauseous sensation clenched Sugar’s belly at the display. She hated how he kept his eyes on her while he did, as if trying to bleed out a reaction from her.
She needed to get away from them before she vomited in disgust.
“What do you think the mystery ingredient for my drink should be, Shug?” he queried, tilting his head.
“Spit,” Sugar replied.
Mariah’s smile waned, but Lance held his smirk firm.
“What did you just say?” she asked, a challenge in her tone.
Sugar leaned down boldly to the girl’s level, accepting the challenge. “You heard exactly what I said, sweetheart.”
Mariah’s fierceness shrunk, the fear rolling off her palpable.
“You’ve always had a sense of humor,” he chuckled, wagging his head as she stood upright again.
She couldn’t deal with this anymore.
“Sadly, I will have to cut my comedy act short. I have a restaurant to manage, which, as you can see, I do quite well. Enjoy our desserts and wine, and don’t forget to tip your waitress handsomely before you go.” Sugar turned on her heels and walked away.
Pushing her way through the kitchen’s swinging doors, she stormed back to her office, slamming the door shut. She collapsed into her chair, resisting the urge to chuck her pastel pink floral paperweight into a wall.
The door flew wide open, and Mallory barged in.
She growled, “Mallory, close the door!”
He ignored her as usual. “I can’t believe that fool had the nerve to sashay up in here with his little h—”
“Don’t,” she interrupted swiftly, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t call her that, Lory.”
He sucked his teeth. “That’s what she is, Shug! Why are you defending her?”
“I’m not defending her,” Sugar retorted. “I just don’t need my employees hearing you call someone out of their name. I don’t care what she is, or she isn’t. Now, I need you to go out there and ensure everything runs smoothly while I get back to working on this menu.”
Her little brother clenched his jaw tightly and shook his head but obliged, leaving without protest.
He closed the door behind him, sealing her into the tomb of her office.
Not wanting her mind to linger, Sugar picked up her red pen and did what she did best.
Work, work, work.
