Chapter One: Valarie’s Way

Valarie opened her eyes slightly and could barely see from morning vision, only shortsighted by a blur of the silk red and orange Ralph Lauren bed dressing that she was lying on. Laying on her stomach, hugging the pillow underneath her head she thought to herself, how crazy last night was. This was the first time in a long time that she actually had time to go clubbing.

Opera was hype as usual and filled with elite celebs and the typical flashy Atlanta crowd dressed in their best waiting to be seen and take pictures by the readily available camera man taking pictures for social exposure.  Not in a million years, five years ago, did she think she would be as successful and be in the position she was in today.

A sharp mild pitched voice with an English accent interrupted her thoughts “Hey baby, we’re out of tooth paste!” . Malik was her husband; he was mocha brown in complexion, with long dark brown locks that he often kept in a knotted low ponytail. He was ‘6 “2 in height and a little bulky with a six pack abdomen.  Malik was a very efficacious man. He was an international soccer player and was contracted with the English Premier League, playing as a lead player for Arsenal.

Valarie had met him on one of her business trips to the United Kingdom seven years ago. Malik was playing in London against Manchester City that day, and he ran into her at a post-game event at a pub not too far from the Emirates Stadium. He stood there bare outside the bathroom door. His skin was so smooth, blemish free, and hairless. He looked as if he was permanently airbrushed.  The brother looked good and had it going on.

No, we have some in the bottom drawer to the left babe, Valarie said. I just went grocery shopping and picked some up. Valarie mumbled in her morning raspy voice.