The Ugly Girlfriend

By: Latrivia S. Nelson

The Lonely Heart Series




Acknowledgments





Karen Moss, thanks for taking time to help me clean up my messy manuscripts. You are a valued reader, and I truly appreciate you. Thanks for being my angel and having so much patience.



Thanks to the team at RiverHouse Publishing including Kandace, Megan, Crystal and Jack.



Thanks to my family for being patient with me.



Thanks to every fan. I have received, printed and read each email, letter, text, Facebook message, Twitter message, etc. Each means so much to me. I’m so happy to have you as readers, and I’m grateful for your friendships.





Chapter One



Club Play Pen was packed nearly past code violation with yuppies and athletes by midnight. Blaring house music and multi-colored strobe lights added chaos to the crowds intermingling between the inside of the club and the open patio leading out to the cool breeze of downtown Phoenix.



While everyone else seemingly enjoyed themselves, LaToya Jenkins rounded the dance floor with her frozen drink carefully tucked into the tight embrace of her hands, avoiding the small hovels of prim and proper women to get to the booth where her friends waited for her.



This wasn’t exactly her scene. It was her close friend, Angela, 35th birthday, and in celebration, the girls had agreed to take her out. So, here LaToya was in a crowded club being ignored by the entire male population again, while Angela gyrated on the dance floor with the tenth guy on her dance card.



“Sorry it took so long,” LaToya apologized with a huff as she arrived back at the booth. Her two friends looked up from their conversation and scooted over in unison to give her some room.



LaToya was a big girl. Well, she was bigger than they were. Gracefully toting a few extra pounds, she was the heaviest of her little clique of four. Size 14 to be exact and heavy chested, as her mother had called her.



She pushed into the leather booth and sat her drink in front of her. The prickles of her pantyhose rubbed against her legs and clung to her sweaty thighs.



I hate these things, she thought to herself as she tried to put on a happy face. Inside, she wished that she could have been at home curled up to a good book.



“What took you so long, girl?” Deana asked, moving her long, black weave from her oval face with her French-tipped acrylic nail.



“The bartender kept ignoring me,” LaToya answered frustrated. “But I finally got a guy to order for me.” The young, female bartender scantily dressed in a purple peek-a-boo outfit straight out of Fredrick’s of Hollywood had ignored anyone who wasn’t extremely handsome or a size zero, which was why she had finally resorted to outsourcing her order to someone more desirable.



“A guy, huh?” Kristen, her other friend chimed in. “What did the chivalrous knight look like? Rich? Powerful? Cute?”



“All of the above. He’s one of my clients,” LaToya explained with a faint grin. “I ran into him outside of the bathroom. So, when he came up to the bar, I asked him to get my drink.”



Pulling the straw to her lips, she sipped her drink. Too strong, she thought to herself as she pushed it away. All of that effort for nothing. Figures.



“You said all of the above?” Kristen continued. “Where is he?”



LaToya turned in the booth and looked towards the bar. From their elevated position over the dance floor, she could clearly see the large man. He was still standing in the same position talking to a group of women and laughing. Once she was sure that he wouldn’t notice her, she pointed towards him. “The tall brother in the white shirt,” she said, taking another sip of her drink. She might as well get her money’s worth. “His name is Byron. He’s an architect for the biggest firm in Phoenix.”



All eyes quickly shifted towards the bar. She could feel their collective attention drawing towards the money.



“Where?” Kristen asked squinting. “There are like six men over there with white shirts on.”



Deana hastily slid on her glasses and scanned the room.



LaToya was always amazed at her friends and their shameless pursuits of the overrated opposite sex. “He’s the really dark brother with the jeans on and the white button down shirt. He’s right there by the white guy,” she said, pointing again.

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