Ivy's Twisted Vine Redux Latrivia Nelson (best selling autobiographies .txt) 📖

to the tears in Grey’s eyes, she felt it to be so. After all the years that she had tried so desperately to be faithful to their relationship and to him, she messed up. Picking up her telephone, she sighed heavily and dialed Nicola.

“Hello,” Nicola said looking at the clock on his nightstand.

“Hi, it’s Ivy.” Staring at the clock, the time finally dawned on her. It was almost eleven.

“Hey. What’s wrong?” He said hearing a peculiar sound in her voice.

“Who said that anything was wrong?”

“No one.” Sitting up in his bed, Nicola rubbed his eyes and picked up his watch.

“Actually, the reason I was calling is to ask you a big favor.” Silence. “Grey, my fiancé, wants to meet you. It sounds ridiculous, but he’s concerned about what type of person you might be.”

“Why does it matter? This guy isn’t marrying me.” The last thing Nicola wanted to do was get involved with her family any deeper before he knew whether or not the baby was actually his.

“We finally had a talk about how we planned to handle this situation, and of course, the possibility of the child being yours came up in the discussion. So, he wants to meet you for the sake of the child. He wants…to know who he’s dealing with now.” Ivy couldn’t find a better way to explain it and instantly felt uncomfortable for asking.

“Look, you know that I want your relationship to work with your fiancé, but I’m not going to be jumping through hoops for you too either. This is a problem that you two have to solve internally. I don’t want to…get more involved than I have to at this point.” Nicola wasn’t in the mood to get agitated, but Ivy was slowly helping to it anyway.

“Just do this for me,” Ivy said softly. “Please, I won’t ask you for anything like this again,” she added grinding her teeth. “It would really help, Nicola.”

After a long silence, he finally responded reluctantly. “Fine, but it’s not for him. I’m going to set things straight face-to-face, because I don’t have time for this kind of drama regardless of our little outcome.”

“Okay.” Ivy just wanted to be out of it. “Is tomorrow around twelve good for you? He wants to meet you for lunch downtown at the Piatza Club, he’ll be in the VIP booths in the back of the restaurant. He’s reserved a table for you two to talk and have lunch.”

“Yeah,” Nicola said yawning. He was getting tired of both Grey and Ivy at this point and regretted the entire situation. “Ivy, I’ll only do this once.”

“I understand. Thanks. Really.

There was a long silence on the phone.

“Well I’ll let you go.” She was beginning to feel nauseous all over again.

“Alright,” he said hanging up the phone.

Getting out of bed, Kit looked over at Nicola and smiled. “I didn’t know that you had a child,” she said lighting her cigarette. “You don’t look like the type.”

“I’m not the type. I don’t even know if I’m the father yet,” Nicola said pulling the comforter from his legs and sitting on the side of the bed. “Hey, put that out will you. I don’t want that smell in my fucking bedroom.” Women, he thought to himself as she stood up naked and walked to the bathroom.

“Don’t get mad at me, because you’re suffering from baby’s momma drama,” Kit said slipping on her jeans.

“What do you know about baby momma drama?” Nicola said laughing as he stood over the toilet. Looking at himself in the mirror, he decided that he desperately needed to shave.

“Let’s just say that I had my tubes tied after my first son, Nathaniel.” She said struggling with her French accent.

“You have a son?” Nicola asked wiggling his leg and flushing the toilet.

“Yeah. He stays with his father in Atlanta.” Kit pulled a picture of her son from her purse and handed to him as he walked out of the bathroom. “He will be five this February.” She smiled proudly.

“Damn, he’s black.” Nicola said shocked that there was very little resemblance between Kit and her son.

“You know what they say,” she said putting the picture back in her purse. “Once you go...”

“Believe me, I already know the saying,” he said tired of hearing the same tired-ass cliché.

*

Noon came early for Nicola the next day. Pulling into the parking garage of the Redbirds Baseball stadium, he slipped on his shades and ran his fingers through his hair. As he walked into the Toyota Center that housed the Piatza Club, the receptionist pointed him to elevator where he was escorted to the second floor. Sounds of soft jazz, low chatter greeted him as the doors of the elevator opened. He was quickly taken to the VIP booths by a chipper Mexican hostess.

Grey sipped an afternoon Mimosa and looked around the restaurant through the glass walls of the VIP area that set elevated hoping to spot his opponent. He had come early and prepared mental notes. He was ready to unleash boundary rules and make his territory known. He was prepared to be Grey Henderson. His confidence was soaring when he made eye contact with a cop that he had met briefly at his dad’s meetings at City Hall. He nodded first at him and then almost choked on his drink. Could it be? No. Hello no. Maybe Agosta would simply walk to another table and await a friend to meet him for lunch. But the guy kept approaching him as though he was going to sit at his table.

Almost in shock, as Nicola approached the table, Grey put down his glass and stood up. Were there not even six degrees of separation in Memphis? Lieutenant N.M. Agosto of the NARC-TACT Unit, as in Nicola Mutherfucking Agosta? This was Ivy’s Nicola! The name made since now, although before he had never known or cared to know Agosta’s name, he knew it now. In the back of his mind, he could even hear Ivy screaming it. Slowly, Grey