Benney was beside himself. He cursed me. I could hear his mother in the background, telling him to control his language. “You’ll have to call Sand...,” he aserted. He called Joyce for the number and called me back with it. Benney was still steaming mad. Sandy was hurt but said she understood the circumstance. I told her our company lawyer had called an emergency meeting. “It’s part of my job,” I explained. The shade of the robe was a lighter one that I had described as cranberry. The sheen of it. It was hard to move in the club but everybody was having a great time. Photographers from my Goodfella$ magazine ran around snapping pictures and mingled with my guests. I was dressed in a shiny red Versace suit, identical to the one Puff Daddy wore in one of his videos, being an observant. I felt so happy and blessed that the party was a big turnout. I consumed a bottle of Cîroc at the bar, and decided to hit the dance floor. I danced with two tanned gorgeous women garbed like Angels. We were. More

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