Chapter 64: The Terrible Inconvenience of Being a Kept Woman and the Payoff of Eating Frogs

“Yolanda, you’ve done it again,” Octavia exclaimed, peering at her reflection in the wide vanity mirror.

“Girl, I got you,” Yolanda responded, gathering up combs and bottles of hair product.

Octavia’s usual Afro was out in its untamed state but with a twist-out flair.

Earlier, Yolanda had taken out the numerous twisted braids Octavia’s hair had been put into, releasing her locks from their prison.

The shriveled looking plaits had taken a bit of coaxing and teasing from Yolanda’s magical fingers.

Eventually, she had restored the dark cloud on Octavia’s head with the strands of hair still taking a curly formation from the effect of the braids.

From where she lay leisurely on her bed, Gracie glanced up.

“Wow,” Gracie said, “it’s amazing how much a hair froofing will change the way a person looks.”

“Right?” Octavia agreed. She spun in her chair to face both Grace and Yolanda. “I feel like a totally different person.”

Yolanda said, “You are a different person. Look at this place you’re living in!” She gestured around the large room that Octavia now called her own.

The room was huge, decorated in shades of turquoise, lavender, and pastel yellow per Octavia’s request. The queen-sized bed had a turquoise-patterned bedspread with a bunch of multicolored throw pillows.

She had that large vanity on one side, floor-to-ceiling shelves on the other, and a flat-screen TV mounted to the wall in front of her bed.

An opening in the wall opposite to her bed led to a large bathroom on the right and a walk-in closet on the left.

Octavia shrugged. “It’s just bigger. I still have the same crap crammed into places.”

This was true, her shelves were packed with ~Star Wars~, anime, and other nerdy knickknacks.

“Thanks for coming over,” Octavia said to Yolanda, “I had no idea what to do with my hair for this fundraiser lunch thing.”

“Girl, thank you,” Yolanda said, “you have any idea how many requests I get just from people who know I’m Raemon Kentworth’s girlfriend’s hairdresser?”

Octavia wrinkled her nose. “I’m not his girlfriend.”

“Aren’t you his date for this lunch thing?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t you also go with him to that club opening the other night?”

“Um…yes.”

“Was it not you with him at the charity dinner last week?”

“Uh…I guess.”

“Yeah. You’re his girlfriend.”

Octavia sighed and picked up her purse from the vanity. “How much do I owe you?”

Yolanda waved away her words. “Nothing. It’s on the house.”

“No way,” Octavia said firmly. “I’m paying you. How much?”

“There’s no need, Octavia,” Yolanda insisted.

Octavia frowned but put her purse down. “Fine. I’ll just Venmo it to you or mail you a check…if you insist on not taking your own money.”

“I’ll take it on her behalf,” Grace piped up.

“You wish,” Octavia told her.

Octavia followed Yolanda out of her room to the front door.

“Kids! Let’s go!” Yolanda shouted in the direction of the game room.

Another feature of the apartment was a large room with a home theater system and an entertainment center containing a variety of gaming consoles—the latest Xbox and PlayStation systems.

Needless to say, Octavia and Gracie had spent a few hours…okay, days…in that room when she and Sierra had first moved in.

Yolanda’s three kids emerged from the gaming room in a chorus of whines.

“We were in the middle of Super Smash Brothers!” Devin, who was seven years old, whined.

“We’re leaving,” Yolanda said dismissively. “Put your shoes back on. Why did you take them off?”

“Can we come back and play some other time, Auntie Tavi?” Taraji, her eldest, asked. She was nine years old.

“Sure,” Octavia said, “if your mom ever needs me to babysit you guys, you can just come here and hang out.”

The two older children cheered, the youngest, four-year-old Tyler, waved his chubby hands in agreement.

“That’s very nice of Auntie Tavi,” Yolanda said, giving her children a stern look. “But it’s not possible. She’s too busy to be running around after you guys, making sure you don’t get into trouble.”

“Awww!” Devin whined. “We’ll be good, we promise!”

“Yeah, Auntie Tavi, tell Mama how good we are!” Taraji prompted Octavia.

Octavia turned to Yolanda. “They really are no trouble.” She shrugged. “I usually just plop them in front of the TV anyway. They just sit there and play games for hours.”

Yolanda sighed. “That explains why they love going to Auntie Tavi’s so much.”

“I hope you’re not mad about that,” Octavia said.

“Are you kidding me? How else do you get kids to sit still and not break something? My TV is on all day, every day.”

After a few more minutes of pleading from her kids to promise to bring them back, Yolanda and the children left. Yosef was already waiting downstairs to drive them back to their home.

Octavia strolled back into her room where Gracie still lay on the bed, scrolling through her phone.

“God, I cannot wait for this lunch to be over,” Octavia said, plopping down on a comfy armchair.

“Which destitute members of society will be benefiting from the proceeds of the function this time?” Gracie asked.

“I don’t know. The homeless maybe? Illiterate children? No, that was the last event.” Octavia shrugged. “Eh, I can’t remember. There are way too many of these things.”

“With the number of charity events you go to, you’d think all forms of disease, inequality, and poverty would be obliterated by now,” Gracie remarked.

“But then what would these people do for entertainment? Have balls just for the sake of having balls? Outrageous.”

Gracie looked up from her phone. “If you don’t want to go, why are you going?”

“Compromise,” Octavia said glumly. “Ever since the news broke, people expect me to be with him when he goes to these things.

“I would rather just stay away from the spotlight, but Raemon said that would only make the media more curious.” She sighed. “Apparently, the best place to hide is out in the open.”

“You don’t seem enthusiastic about it.”

“Do I like hanging on his arm while hundreds of people try to get into his good graces—often making a blatant attempt at going through me? No. I’m not enthusiastic about it at all.”

“So where’s the compromise?”

“I go with him to all these numerous social events, but we never stay for more than an hour. And then I get to choose where we eat dinner,” Octavia explained.

“I think you got the short end of the stick.”

“Well…there’s more, I just didn’t think you’d want to hear it.”

“Ah. It’s a compromise of that kind, is it?”

“Where certain acts that typically occur in the bedroom are involved? Yes. Yes, it is.”

“You’re right, I don’t want to hear it.”

Octavia laughed. When her chuckling died down, she looked around her room and sighed.

“What?” Gracie asked.

Octavia’s eyes became empty. “I don’t know…this feels so weird.”

“What does?”

“This. Living here. Going with him to all these events. Using things he paid for. Wearing clothes that he bought.”

“You poor thing,” Gracie said dryly. “It must be so hard living in a swanky apartment in the most upscale part of town, wearing the best brands of clothes and not having to pay for anything.”

“Cut it out,” Octavia replied. “You know you spend almost as much of his money as I do. You’ve basically taken over the other room in here.”

Gracie sat up and faced Octavia.

“Do you have any idea what I’d have to do to get my own room back at my parents’ home? Murder someone, probably. And the room was just sitting there anyway, furnished and all. Why waste valuable resources?”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Octavia said. “If the man wants to throw his money around, we might as well be there to catch it.”

“Exactly,” Gracie added. “I prefer to think of it as ‘redistributing wealth.’”

Octavia smiled at this, but then a slight frown creased her brow. “Still…it feels weird.”

“How so?”

“I’m beginning to feel a lot like a kept woman.”

“You are a kept woman.”

Octavia groaned. “I never wanted to be! All I wanted was a casual, no-strings-attached, fuck-with-ship. I didn’t ask for all this stuff.”

“Think of it as an added bonus, if that helps.”

“But it’s not just a bonus. I get the feeling that it can’t be only that. What does all of this mean? Me living here? Having Raemon finance my every need?” She paused.

“It feels so strange. All these parts of my life are slowly becoming his. It’s almost like he’s swallowing me up or something.

“Everything he does…everything he is…it’s taking over my life. I feel like if I don’t watch out, I’ll wake up one day and…maybe I won’t know who I am anymore.”

Gracie commented, “At least you still have a job.”

“And a damn good one at that,” Octavia added. “But it’s also infuriating to have a great job and to make money from it…and then not even need to spend it!

“Because your billionaire boyfriend buys everything you need, everything you want—even stuff you don’t want—without you asking.”

“So. He is your boyfriend.”

“No, he’s not,” Octavia said, emphatically slamming her hand on the chair armrest. “It only looks that way because telling the press we’re just fuckbuddies wouldn’t go over well for some reason.

“And that’s another thing. Why does everyone keep referring to me as ‘Raemon Kentworth’s girlfriend’? I have a name for god’s sake.”

“Because as far as they can tell, you’re just one girl in a long line of women. Women he disposes of when he tires of them.”

“But I’m not one of them.”

“Oh? Are you going to be the one who finally makes him give up his playboy ways?”

“No. Of course not. What I mean is…we both know this is temporary. And casual. It’s only about sex.”

“You don’t buy million-dollar computers for people you’re just having casual sex with, Octavia.”

“I said it was casual. Will it be my fault if he forgets that?”

“It probably shouldn’t be,” Gracie said, “but you have a vagina. It’s always your fault.”

Octavia sighed.

Her door burst open, and Sierra barged in.

“Okay!” Sierra announced. “I’ve only got a few minutes before I have to leave for my next consultation. Let’s get you dressed for the lunch.”

“Consultation? For what?” Octavia asked.

Sierra snatched the large sunglasses off her face. “Duh. My styling business? My services are in high demand.”

“Congratulations,” Gracie commented.

Sierra smiled proudly. “Whoever outed you and Raemon to the press is the best person ever! I mean, it’s too bad for you about them finding out.”

Sierra managed to give Octavia the slightest of sympathetic looks. “But it has done wonders for me. Business is booming! Everyone wants to be styled by the one who dresses Raemon Kentworth’s girlfriend.”

“Delightful,” Octavia said dryly.

Sierra giggled. “They think if I dress them, maybe they can catch the eye of Mr. Kentworth too!”

“They should take my word for it. It’s not all that fun of an experience,” Octavia said.

“Oh. My. God. OCTAVIA,” Sierra said, “How can you continue to be so DUMB?” She put her hands on her hips. “Look at this apartment! Look at the stuff you’ve got! Look at all the clothes in your closet!”

Octavia obediently looked around the room. “Yeah?” she said expectantly.

“Do you realize how many girls would kill to get a taste of what you have?” Sierra focused an intense gaze on Octavia.

Octavia frowned. “But…why though?”

Sierra blinked. “What do you mean, ‘why’?”

“Why would they want to get a taste of what I have?”

“Because…because…,” Sierra stammered, “…because…it’s…fun.”

“Exactly what part of this is fun?”

“Well…because…it’s…um…expensive.”

“Hip replacement surgery is expensive,” Octavia said. “How come they don’t want to get that?”

“Ugh. It’s different okay? You can’t really post a picture of a hospital bill and hope to get a ton of likes, can you?

“But if you posted something like…like a Birkin, you get a WHOLE lot of likes. Do you have any idea how many likes my Birkin posts always get?”

Gracie spoke up. “I once saw a video of a man eating a live frog. That got a lot of likes.”

“There you go,” Octavia said. “Why don’t these girls just eat a live frog on camera, then? Frogs are cheaper than Birkins, and anyone can do it. It would get them a lot of likes.”

“Not from PETA, of course,” Gracie added wisely.

Sierra rolled her eyes and made a sound that clearly expressed her disgust. “Just wait here while I pick out an outfit okay?”

Sierra began to rummage around in the adjacent closet. Octavia sat and waited, listening as Sierra’s voice came from the nearby closet.

“I don’t see why you continue to be so bitchy about this,” Sierra was saying.

“I’m not being bitchy,” Octavia protested.

“What? I didn’t hear that!” Sierra called.

“I said I’m not being bitchy!” Octavia yelled back.

“Yes, you are,” Sierra’s voice came back. “Ooh—this dress is perfect. That’s a good idea.”

“No dress!” Octavia called. “I don’t feel like sitting ladylike today.”

“Do you ever?” Sierra’s voice scoffed.

“No, not really.”

She heard a sound like a hanger clattering to the floor as if a garment had been tossed across the room.

“You are being bitchy,” Sierra’s voice continued.

“Raemon Kentworth is the most eligible man on the planet. He’s rich, handsome, powerful—and he wants you. But you don’t seem to know how big of a thing that is.”

“I really don’t see how,” Octavia responded.

“He’s like twenty times more important than you. Just by being seen with him, people think you’re more important.”

“So much so that they plaster pictures mocking your every action all over the tabloids,” Gracie remarked.

Octavia gave a Gracie a nod of agreement but then snorted in response to Sierra.

“Please. All I got out of this is hate mail from all the women who are in love with him and snide looks from all the people who think I’m only with him because of his money.”

“Aren’t you?” Gracie asked.

“No. I’m not that superficial,” Octavia replied. “I only want him for his body.”

“You get to live here because of him!” Sierra’s voice called.

“I have to live here because of him.”

“Well, I like living here,” Sierra responded. “People turn green with envy when I tell them where I’m staying. And they can’t accuse me of lying. I have pictures to prove it.”

The sound of another hanger clattering to the floor echoed. “Of course, I don’t share the exact building or anything. So don’t worry about your privacy.”

“Your concern is touching,” Octavia said, “and I’m glad someone is getting something out of all of this.”

A giggle came from the closet. “I know, right? It’s like I got everything I could from Raemon Kentworth. I get to live in the big, fancy house, I get designer stuff, and I’m Instagram famous!”

“Imagine that,” Gracie commented, loudly enough so Sierra would hear. “And you didn’t even have to sleep with him.”

“I wouldn’t mind doing that either, of course,” Sierra said. “No offense, Octavia.”

“None taken,” Octavia replied. “You’re welcome to him any time you want.”

Sierra’s head popped out from the closet hall entrance. She looked to Octavia with a frown.

“But…aren’t you sleeping with him?”

“Yes.”

“But…you’re okay with me sleeping with him too?”

“I don’t own the man, Sierra.”

“You could always join the two of them,” Gracie remarked. “Make it a threesome.”

“Pass,” Octavia said, “I really can’t figure out the mechanics of that. No matter how I look at it, there just aren’t enough parts to go around.”

“They could take turns,” Gracie suggested.

“Doesn’t that just mean two people are doing it while one kind of hangs around?”

“If it’s two females and one male, sure,” Gracie said. “What about two males and one female? Theoretically, they wouldn’t even have to take turns.”

“Oh yeah. That would work, wouldn’t it?”

Sierra grimaced. “You guys are being weird again.”

“We’re only discussing threesomes,” Octavia said.

“Purely for educational purposes,” Gracie added.

Octavia nodded. “We’re not actually planning one.”

Sierra shook her head wordlessly and withdrew back into the closet.

“Either way,” she said, “Raemon is the kind of man just being associated with is a huge step up the ladder.”

“There’s a ladder now?” Octavia muttered.

“I mean,” Sierra continued, “just think of who he is. Think of how much he’s worth. He has way more than any average Joe out there. His private jets, his luxury cars…”

“Not very environmentally friendly,” Gracie remarked.

“He lives in a big-ass mansion…”

“Full of rooms he’s never been in,” Octavia commented, “and a kitchen full of food he doesn’t eat, and a king-sized bed he doesn’t use.”

“Until now, of course,” Gracie said.

Sierra was still continuing. “He could have any woman he wanted. He could have anything he wanted. He can toss around millions of dollars like it’s nothing.”

“He also hasn’t slept in eight years,” Octavia mentioned distractedly.

“He is the epitome of attractive and the man of every woman’s dreams!” Sierra declared.

“Everyone wants to either be him or be with him. How lucky are you that YOU get to be the one he chooses to stand by his side?”

“So lucky,” Octavia said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I get to stand there and watch people drool over him. If I hadn’t been with Raemon, I’d never know how much saliva a mouth can hold.”

“Jesus, Octavia. You have no idea how good you have things.”

“I guess not.”