Read Online Show and Tell by Niobia Bryant - Free Book Online

date.
    Am I crazy to be here . . . alone and in last season’s dress?
    I step off the elevator and walk towards the elaborate doors of the four-story Grand Ballroom. I carefully hold up the edge of the delicate form-fitting dress. I feel like I am in a fairy tale. It takes every bit of decorum that I have taught myself, not to look fazed by the glamour and elegance surrounding me. I did not miss the looks from admiring men and envious women. I look good and I know it. Sue me.
    I make my smile more confident as I step inside and join the line of guests greeted by the Ingrams. For a hot second I have an image of the guards pulling me out there because Mrs. Ingram forgot that she invited me. She would not. She could not. She better not.
    She is looking fabulous in a strapless dress of the deepest shade of red that I have ever seen. Everything about her is perfectly in place. She is the queen of the ball and she knows it.
    â€œHello, Mr. Ingram. Mrs. Ingram.” I give them that winning Cristal smile as I reach out to them with both my hands.
    â€œHello, Danielle.” Mr. Ingram pats my hand warmly before Mrs. Ingram reaches over to slide my hands into her grasp. Even her hands are cool.
    â€œWelcome, Danielle,” she says to me warmly before nudging me forward into the ballroom. I did not miss the way her eyes took in everything from my auburn weave flat ironed to perfection (of course) to my dress and jewelry. Thank God all of my men were not Indian-givers like Sahad. She did not make a crude comment so I assume I passed her assessment.
    My eyes widen as I look at the partygoers. I cannot lie that I am intrigued. I see the crème de la crème of African-American high society. The already impressive ballroom is overflowing with flowers and artfully decorated tables around the large dance floor. Everything about this night says that no expense was spared. When the Ingrams throw a party, they throw a damn party. The crowd is a lot older and more sedate than I prefer. I am used to rubbing elbows with athletes and hip-hop celebrities—that hip twenty to thirty-something crowd. This is definitely a little more geriatric but it is also filled with people who are connected. Politicians. High-powered executives. Socialites. The Black elite.
    There are more designer gowns and jewels in this place than I can ever hope to be near again. It is a long way from the foster kid growing up in Newark. I am going to enjoy myself to the fullest.

Chapter Ten
    Alizé
    â€œB raun, Weber, Monica Winters speaking.”
    â€œHey, Ze, this is Cristal.”
    â€œHold on.” I stand up and quickly move around my desk to use my foot to close the door to my office. As soon as I settle back down into my chair, I press the phone back to my ear. “Whaddup, girl?” I ask.
    â€œDid Mo call you?”
    â€œNo. Why? What’s up?”
    â€œBones filed a petition to have paternity tests done on Tiffany.”
    â€œWhat?” I lean forward with my elbows on the desk.
    â€œShe just got the papers at work.”
    I pick up my pen and twirl it between my fingers. “Maybe it’s a good thing. We all know he’s the daddy. Now she can get some support from his Tupac wanna-be ass.”
    â€œ Are we sure?” Cristal asks.
    I frown. “Are we sure of what, Cris?”
    â€œAre we sure Bones is the father?”
    â€œCris, don’t even trip.”
    â€œI love Moët to death but she lied about Bones raping her. She did not tell us she was pregnant. Hell, we never knew she was screwing her preacher when we paid for her abortion.” Cristal paused and I just know she is looking down at her nails. “Mo can keep secrets when she wants to. That is all I am saying.”
    â€œThat was before. She’s different now. Way more upfront.”
    Cristal remained quiet for a minute before she spoke. “Well, this blood test will tell it.”
    â€œThe fact that he’s getting the