her on a regular basis. The latest story going around town was that Ayana was the reason Erick Kastell—her love interest on the show—had fled the country.
“Welcome to New York, and thanks for flying with us today. You are now free to use your cell phones,” the pilot announced once they’d landed.
As the plane taxied to the gate, Ayana called Reese. “Hey, girl, we just landed. Where are you?”
“In the car, waiting outside of baggage claim.”
“Okay. See you in a few.”
Once the doors opened, Ayana put on a pair of oversize shades, retrieved her carry-on from the overhead bin and strutted down the pedway, into the terminal and out the door.
“Saturday! Saturday Knight! Look this way!” a photographer yelled, snapping pictures as she strolled past.
“Saturday, is it true you’re the reason Moses Michaels left his girlfriend, Lisa?” a reporter shouted.
“Have you read Lisa’s tweets? She’s calling you a home wrecker,” another reporter blurted out.
Ayana didn’t even glance in their direction, though that didn’t stop them from blurting out questions.
“Is it true that you and Moses Michaels are dating?” another reporter shouted.
Moses Michaels was the hot single moderator of the reality-show circuit. He and Saturday had gone out a few times, but it had not lasted.
She kept walking, looking straight ahead as if they weren’t there. She saw Reese’s black Benz and concentrated on making it to the car without acknowledging the annoying paparazzi and reporters.
“Hey, girl, welcome home.” Reese turned to kiss Ayana on the cheek. “Well, it isn’t such a good welcome with the media stalking you and accusing you of breaking up Moses and his girlfriend,” Reese said as Ayana settled into the car.
“Their claims are totally untrue. Moses had broken up with his girlfriend before we’d started to date. Anyway, Moses and I are now just friends. The lies remind me of my nasty divorce,” she said, remembering the highly publicized proceedings.
* * *
During the divorce trial, reporters and photographers had lined the steps of the courthouse, begging for interviews and snapping pictures. Salacious details of their marriage had made interesting headlines. Ayana had been embarrassed to read about their rather unorthodox love life.
Benjamin had leaked photos of Ayana dressed as a dominatrix, beating him with a whip. He’d accused her of dominating him against his will. It had incensed her. The entire bondage and sadomasochism idea had been his. Benjamin had bought her the black latex catsuit, platform boots and whip, and he’d even made her watch an instructional DVD to teach her the nuances of BDSM. Ayana had resisted at first, but Benjamin had insisted. He’d said it was the ultimate thrill to have her beat him. But he’d backpedaled in court, playing the victim. He’d even produced pictures of bruises on his back.
In addition to the accusations of sexual abuse, Benjamin had accused Ayana of spousal abandonment, saying that she spent months in Jamaica. On the stand, Ayana did admit to visiting her parents. However, it was Benjamin who’d insisted that she extend her stay, saying that since they didn’t have children, there was no need for her to rush back home to New York.
His team of highly paid attorneys had earned every dime of their retainer, working overtime to paint a negative picture of Ayana. Her attorney had presented her case, stating to the court that Benjamin willingly withheld funds from her, making her practically lead a destitute life, except for the times when they were out together. Her case was weak in comparison to Benjamin’s. And as the weeks had dragged on, Ayana became worn out. With her funds dwindling and her emotional state deteriorating, Ayana had agreed to settle. Initially, she had been seeking half of the money he’d made while they were together but then realized that Benjamin was willing to fight dirty in order to keep from paying Ayana her share. To put an end to the spectacle and move on with her life, she’d settled for a fraction of the estate, signed the divorce papers and never looked back. Although the proceedings had been emotionally draining, one good thing had come out of the ordeal—a job.
Little did Ayana know that tracking her divorce proceedings was show creator Ed Levine, who had struck gold with his string of reality TV shows. He had been looking to staff Divorced Divas, his latest undertaking about divorced women of millionaires seeking a second chance at love. He had seen Ayana on the news and in the papers and had become taken with her. Ayana was tall, attractive, stylish and well-spoken—all the ingredients of a television star. He’d contacted her attorney and set up a meeting.
However, Ayana had had no interest in exposing her life on camera. Being in the media during the divorce was enough, so she’d turned down the meeting. Ayana’s post-divorce plan was to reenter corporate America. The only problem was her limited experience. Her last job had been as Benjamin’s administrative assistant. She’d dusted off her résumé, made calls and tried to set up interviews to no avail. Her skill set wasn’t the problem; being the former Mrs. Benjamin Lewis was. Apparently, he had put the word out and blacklisted her.
In need of an income, Ayana had asked her attorney to contact the producers. Their initial meeting had gone well, except for one glitch. Ed had wanted Ayana to play the role of the good girl, but he had filled that role after she had turned him down. The only slot left to fill was that of the “diva.” Ayana had been reluctant but was in dire straits and needed money badly, so she’d accepted the role along with the stage name. A year later, Saturday Knight was a household name. Luckily, the show wasn’t broadcasted in Jamaica. Ayana couldn’t stand the thought of her family knowing that she degraded herself on camera for a living. She hated her job but was determined to make it work. Ayana read about reality stars branding themselves, launching clothing, perfume and cosmetics lines and even going on to costar in prime-time network series and movies. Some of them were making millions, and that was exactly what she planned to do.
* * *
“So are you well rested and ready for another season of Divorced Divas?” Reese asked as they drove along the FDR.
“I am rested, but the thought of another unnecessary catfight makes my stomach churn.”
“Girl, what’s up with that? Why do people love to see grown women acting like teenagers, fighting and yelling at each other?”
Ayana hunched her shoulders. “Wish I knew. Seems the more controversy on the show, the higher the ratings.”
“Does the creator of the show even know your true personality? You’re the nicest person anyone could ever meet.”
“Yeah, he knows, but for Ed, it’s all about ratings.”
“Then have a meeting and ask him to change your role so that the viewers can see who you really are.”
“Last season, a director made some show suggestions and he was fired.”
“I thought reality television was all about depicting people in their true form.”
“Reese, the reality is that reality television is a money-making machine. The creators of these shows will go to any length to ensure ratings, even if they have to fudge the truth and stage scenes.”
“What an oxymoron.”
“That’s
