Smooth Operator Read Free

should’ve been like.
    A Smooth Operator was about survival, about letting each and every motherfucker know that though she may have pleased their pleasure palates, at the end of the session she was simply handling her business.

I never intended

California
    T he sultry sounds of a twenty-piece jazz orchestra resonated throughout the W Hotel’s ballroom as Payton softly graced Lyfe with a kiss and they slow-danced across the floor. They were at their company’s annual black-tie New Year’s Eve gala; amid their employees, investors, high-powered executives, A-list entertainers, lobbyists, and politicians.
    Most people were either dancing, networking, bragging, or becoming inebriated courtesy of the bartender’s top shelf.
    The orchestra’s rendition of Nina Simone’s “I Put a Spell on You” seduced Payton to place her head on Lyfe’s tuxedo lapel and whisper, “We should be daring and fuck right here. No one would even notice.”
    “They would notice,” Lyfe said while easing Payton’s hand from his crotch and placing it back around his waist.
    Payton held her head up and looked into Lyfe’s eyes; their reflection didn’t reveal her standing before him in a black, Vera Wang halter dress but instead revealed thoughts a million miles away. “What are you thinking about?” she asked him.
    Lyfe ran his hand over his shadow-box beard; the tip of his thumb and index finger met at the center of his chin. “Why did you arrange for me to go to New York without speaking to me first?”
    “What?” Payton said, taken aback. “I brought it before the board, we voted, and then I advised you.” She waved at a few of their guests.
    “I should’ve been at that meeting.” He grew increasingly aggravated.
    “You were with clients.”
    “You should’ve discussed it with me first.”
    “Why would I do that?”
    “I’m your husband.”
    “Which is why you should be celebrating.” She grabbed two champagne-filled flutes from a passing butler’s tray and handed one of the glasses to Lyfe. “As well as appreciate the fact that I allow you so much power within the company.”
    “Allow me?”
    “And that I recognize your talents.” She stroked his cheek. “So, just accept that you are going to the New York office to bring in new clients, secure bigger deals, and to assure our existing clients that, yes, the Dow and the NASDAQ may be south, but there is no need to worry because, as the board says, we are wealth builders.” She clinked the tip of her glass against his.
    Lyfe sarcastically clapped his hands. “Who wrote that speech? Robertson? Dave? Raymond? Or was it Patricia, or one of those other motherfuckers on the board who should really be going to New York instead of me? How about this: I go with my gut, do an audit, and follow up on
their
asses.”
    “Don’t piss me off.”
    “And don’t be so trusting.”
    “Would you stop throwing a tantrum? It’s not attractive. And besides, the board and I are fully capable of making decisions. Not to mention the majority of them don’t just have their MBAs, they also have their DBAs.”
    Lyfe looked at Payton, perplexed.
    “Please don’t tell me you’re confused.” She sighed. “Would you follow me here, it’s a doctorate in Business—”
    “I don’t need you to explain shit to me.”
    “Well you looked as if—”
    “Looked as if what? I wasn’t impressed?”
    “Would you stop cutting me off?”
    “Then say something I want to hear,” he said tight-lipped, as a few guests passed by them, “and maybe I’ll let you speak.”
    Payton was so taken aback that she paused and withdrew from his arms. “Are you fuckin’ confused? Did we switch places and you’re suddenly
my
boss?” She chuckled in disbelief. “Let me remind you that the letters behind your name are G.E.D. Unless, I didn’t check the mail the day your advanced degree came.”
    Lyfe paused.
    “That’s what I thought. Now, I’m going to ask you one last time to drop this.”