Baby, You're the Best (6 page)

CHAPTER 10

Alexis

 

 

 

I
scaled the chick sitting next to my mom. Twenty-two, maybe three. She gave me a head-to-toe once-over. Her gaze into my eyes steadied for three seconds, then she smiled. Just like the guys, we had our unspoken signals to express interest. I gave her a small upward nod. No smile. She was cute but there was only one opening in my entourage for a feline and Chanel had that on pause.

An alpha female—cheetah in nature—was more devious than an alpha male. The difference was women were more manipulative when it came to getting our way. Couple deception with determination and a real woman was dangerous . . . potentially lethal.

“I like your dress, Mama,” I said, touching her outfit. I smoothed her fly away in with the rest of her strands, tried to uncurl her fingers to see what dude gave her. The larger-than-average print in his pants, I did not miss it. Instantly, I created a vacancy for his dick on my team.

My mom moved her hand. “Oh, no you don’t,” she protested.

“You know you’re not going to use it. You’ve got Fortune, Mama.”

“And you’ve got James, Chanel, and God only knows who else.”

Didn’t matter that the chick next to my mom redirected her attention from her phone to me. I could do her tonight if I wanted but I didn’t play games. I had game. There was a major difference.

Mercedes exhaled. “Sandara, go ask the hostess to hurry up and seat us please.” She dragged the last word out of her mouth.

My baby sister got her strut on like she was on a runway. I wished she’d discover her God-given modeling talent and get paid for being beautiful instead of comping her coochie to the lames. One more kid slide out of that womb and Sandara’s baby count would be tied at four with our mom’s.

Dude tapped twice on the bar. My mom turned as though he was her man. I stared at him.

“You chill?” he asked, picking up my mom’s water glass.

Her eyes lit up. She smiled then nodded.

“Birthday beautiful. This one is on me.” He set a martini with three olives in front of her. “Remember what I told you.”

Aw, hell no. Game recognized. I started to whistle at him and command, down boy. Tapping? Really? That shit wasn’t cool. I’d lose points if I reacted. I’d let it go for now. My wanting to ask about my dad and getting whatever my mom was holding on to in her hand would wait for now. This was her day.

While he was standing there, I leaned, hugged my mom, pushed my butt out a little so he could see the curves of my ass. Mercedes tugged the hem of my mocha minidress. She’d better be happy I didn’t adjust my thong for an added visual. I ignored my sister.

I made sure my mom was facing the flirtatious bartender. This was the gorgeous mother who used to get all dolled up on weekends. The woman who had taught us how to keep it sexy almost had it all together. She could’ve done a better hairdo. The pulled-back look was too uptight for that slammin’ fitted halter. I would’ve gone over the top, added in extra pieces of hair, and created big wavy curls that bounced right above ass.

I whispered, “I love you, Mommy.” Despite her not telling me who my dad was, regardless of my being the one who’d challenge her the most, my mom was everything to me.

“I love you too, Alexis.”

Admiring my mother, I shook my head. She was the bomb and didn’t realize it.
What made her lay with lames?
Not only that, long as I remembered she’d taken up residence in that putting-a-man-first lifestyle. I shouldn’t think poorly of Sandara for having three kids. She got that mental from our mom.

“They said another ten minutes at the most,” Sandara reported.

“Move, Alexis,” Devereaux said. “She’s my mom too. Happy birthday, Mother, you look stunning,” she said, taking my space.

Southern hospitality was out there in abundance but love was unavailable to the woman who’d put her heart first. And Blake always put her heart on a limb before she knew if the guy was legit. I’d seen where that had gotten her. That’s why I had to stay on top of my game and my bitches.

To me, men were bitches too.

Dude behind the bar was probably in search of a sponsor. Whatever his intentions were, he was not going to use my mother. I could dismiss his note as innocent but the seductive expression on his face said he wanted to stick his dick inside my mom’s pussy.

No apology, Mom. I was definitely running interference. I was going to ride his dick while letting him suck mine. If he thought he was going to use my mom, I was going to make him
my
next bitch.

Life was all about a challenge. I could take a lot of people’s money but I wanted them to give me a reason to steal their heart. If everybody’s happy, somebody got fucked. I made sure men were held accountable for every dickcision they made.

A text came in from Chanel.
Call me boo

She was twenty-five going on eighteen. The dollars she earned from stripping paid the rent on my Buckhead loft apartment whenever James didn’t give me the money. I refused to let her move in. Hadn’t given her the key she kept asking for.

I was a Georgia peach but I owned Apple everything! The iPhone, iPad, iPod, MacBook Air and Pro, I had it all but hadn’t paid for any of it. Some of my electronics were still in the box.

I knew my not responding to Chanel’s text made her anxious. Rejection made her want me more. Chanel’s jealousy of my going out with men had been a constant concern throughout our relationship. For her. I loved dick more than I enjoyed pussy.

My mom stood, picked up her drink. I took it from her, set it on the bar. “Leave it,” I said, eyeing the bartender. “I got you.”

Trailing my mom to our table, I read my girl’s next text.
You need to choose, Alexis. You want me? Or you want James? I love you but you can’t have both.

I could. I did. And I was about to add one more to my team. I glanced over my shoulder at the bartender. He smiled. I winked to let him know I was interested.

Mercedes was behind me. She cleared her throat. “Let it go, Alexis.”

My mother had Fortune’s old tired ass at home. I was doing our mom a favor. While flirting with a much younger man may have made Mom feel good, she wasn’t experienced enough to let that youngster stick his dick in any hole he wanted.

But I was.

CHAPTER 11

Spencer

 

 

 

“M
other? Daughter?” I pointed them out to my boy, LB, then repeated, “Mother? Daughter?”

“Definitely the mother,” he said, watching me pour a glass of merlot. “I saw you double-tap that at least a half dozen times.”

We’d come up with our own Morse code for women. Two taps meant we wanted an exclusive op to hit it. One tap signified first to get it could have it. Sometimes we’d both do a customer if she were open. No tap. No interest.

I laughed. “Bruh, you must have eyes in the back of your cranium. How you waiting tables and spying me?”

LB was my boy. I’d gotten him on here bartending six months after I’d started two years ago. Derrick, our manager, was short-staffed on servers tonight. LB didn’t mind filling in. He could do damn near everything except cook. LB was the only dude I hung with. Only one I trusted with knowing the real me. There was one thing I hadn’t and probably never would share with him. Didn’t want my friend looking at me sideways.

“If you think there’s a man in here that didn’t see that fine-ass woman in red walk through those double doors, you’d better do that or I might beat you to it, bruh.”

I shook my head. “That’s mine. You can have the daughter. When I get to first base with Mom, I’ll arrange that for you.”

“Might not need you, man. You see where they’re seated though?” LB strolled away.

He was three inches shorter than me. Five-eleven was decent but he told females he was six feet. My double tap was seated at his table, but I paused. Damn, I didn’t know the lady in red’s name. How could I have forgotten to introduce myself?

A familiar voice said, “Check, handsome.”

I stepped to the computer, closed her out. Soon as I turned, I thought, damn! My used-to-be side, now my main, was in the seat where her potential replacement was a few minutes ago.

Handing the customer her bill, I looked at my gurl. “What’s up, Charlotte?”

“Why the fuck she calling you handsome like she all familiar? Give me a JW.”

I loved my AfJam. She was half Nigerian, part Jamaican, and one hundred crazy turnt up twenty-fo. But sometimes I wished she’d give me a drama-free day.

I leaned over the bar. “Boo, I need you to do me a favor. I forgot to pick up my dry cleaning.” I handed her a hundred. “Get it for me.”

“Forgot my ass. Where the ticket at? Huh?”

My manager, Derrick, crept up behind me. “Ask her to leave or you leave. I’m not tolerating her disruptions again.”

I told my gurl, “I’ll stop by your place after I get off. What you want me to bring you, boo?”

Charlotte took the cash. I know my calling her boo in front of the girl sitting next to her helped my gurl turn down. Charlotte eyed my shit. “Bring me my dick,” she said, then left.

Not tonight. My dick had intentions on making plans with the lady in red. I’d deal with my gurl’s repercussions tomorrow.

Why did I always attract the crazy ones? This foolishness never happened to LB.

CHAPTER 12

Blake

 

 

 

“M
ama, that bartender is delicious,” Devereaux said, nibbling her bottom lip.

I sat on the end of the vinyl booth beside Devereaux. Just in case he came my way. Didn’t want the bartender to have to reach over any of my daughters to get to me, especially Alexis who’d sat on the opposite end facing me. Not that he’d come over, but from my seat, I had a complete view of the bar.

“You like him?” Devereaux asked.

Devereaux was twenty-eight and a new mom of my two-year-old granddaughter, Nya. My child’s deep brown eyes were the same color as the thick flat-ironed hair that hung below her shoulders. She stared at Alexis, then narrowed her eyes. “Don’t say a word. I asked Mom, not you.”

“He’s cute,” was my answer.

The heart-shaped engagement ring on Devereaux’s finger had been there since she’d graduated from Clark-Atlanta four years ago. I tried to tell her not to let Phoenix move in with her after Nya was born but . . . she adamantly wanted them to be a family. Didn’t want her daughter to grow up without her dad around.

“You’re too old for him, Mama, give me that number,” Alexis exclaimed. Stretching her long arm across the table, she wiggled her fingers in my direction.

“I knew it was coming,” Devereaux said, shaking her head. “Contrary to what’s in that brain of yours, every man does not want you. He’s attracted to Mama.”

Confidently, Alexis stated, “But they all want to do me.”

Rolling my eyes at Alexis, I shook my head. I shouldn’t be annoyed but couldn’t she let me enjoy his flattery? As sexually free as she was, Alexis was my only child who didn’t have a baby. I was grateful she’d made it to twenty-six without ever being pregnant and I prayed she’d wait until she had a husband. Hopefully she’d choose her on-again off-again guy. I liked James Wilcox. Not because he bought Alexis expensive gifts. Upgraded her from the Lexus 300 I’d bought her to a new convertible. My respect for James was based on the countless times I’d seen him protect my baby even when we knew she was dead wrong.

James, like the others Alexis dated, loved her craziness. I could learn some things from the way Alexis never hesitated to tell people what she thought. I didn’t understand her reasoning of dating both males and females but she was my Leo child. Eventually, Alexis always got her way.

Curling my fingers into a fist, playfully I shook the paper at her. Hopefully the bartender had given me his contact. I was too mature to entertain chasing behind a man who looked young enough to be my son. My child’s hand was still open and facing me.

Sandara swatted Alexis’s hand. “Mama, you keep his number and use it. It’s not like you’re trying to marry him. You only turn fifty once. Get yourself some young, hard, good stuff.”

Good stuff got my youngest child three babies and no husband. Got me four. Having casual sex made me think about CNN’s ranking by city of reported HIV cases, as it appeared online at rollingout.com. Atlanta wasn’t first or second but we were definitely in the top ten. Miami and Baton Rouge were numbers one and two.

Sandara and Devereaux favored one another the most except Sandara didn’t press her hair. She had that long gorgeous wash-and-go that became real curly when she conditioned it. My youngest and oldest both had caramel complexions, long noses, large almond-shaped eyes, and naturally reddish lips.

Alexis could’ve been a supermodel if she weren’t five-foot-five and a size six. The platform stilettoes she wore all the time gave her runway attitude. All the dresses she wore barely covered her ass. I think if it weren’t against the law, that child would never put on clothes.

“Don’t encourage Mother to be unfaithful,” Mercedes interjected.

Her mention made me wonder where Fortune was. I checked my cell. No new missed calls or text messages from him.

Sandara fired back, “Mama should do the bartender. Maybe it’ll give Fortune an incentive to go back to his wife and leave our mama the hell alone.”

“Did Raymond get your son those shoes?” Mercedes asked.

My brows raised. Sandara’s lips tightened.
Please, Lord Jesus. Not today.

“Of course not. He probably came over with forty dollars. Fucked you, then left with sixty,” Mercedes said.

Sandara angrily replied, “Raymond is not broke.”

Sarcastically, Mercedes asked, “And you’re on welfare because?”

Sandara’s eyes were in the left corners when she closed them and in the right when she opened them. Next to Alexis, my youngest had the worst temper. What made my babies quick to anger?

Mercedes was a perfect size eight. Her light brown hair, bunched in clusters at the edges, framed her pale face. Barely touching her shoulders, her super eight-inch Afro flopped over her ears. Today, she had in her green contacts. She’d blinked several times. I would offer her my drops but that one didn’t share anything.

“That’s enough, you two,” I insisted.

Sandara should’ve stayed in college and dated men who were at Baylor University. The end of her sophomore year, she’d said, “It’s too hard, Mama. I quit.” For whatever reason, the men she chose to bed never took her seriously.

Mercedes commented, “Mama, I’m not asking, I’m telling you. He’s beneath you. He’s a bartender, for goodness’ sake. He probably gives his number out all day long. All he wants is sex. I bet he doesn’t even have decent health coverage.”

Mercedes’s five-year-old twins, Brandy and Brandon, were in the most expensive private school in Roswell. Whatever Mercedes needed, her husband, Benjamin, provided. Benjamin was no pushover. He had that quietness about himself. He loved his family and provided for them. At twenty-seven Mercedes had it all together. I just wished she’d realize her sisters didn’t.

The waiter approached our table. “Happy birthday to?” he asked, pausing.

“It’s our mother’s fiftieth,” Mercedes said loud, looking in the direction of the bar.

Our waiter smiled. “I can’t tell. You all look alike to me. I thought you were sisters. Well, I’ll start with the beautiful birthday
young
lady,” he said, staring at me. “My name is LB. That’s short for Lawrence Bennett. May I take your drink order?”

He didn’t have finesse like the one heading my way.

“Don’t push up on my gurl,” my bartender guy said. He placed a martini in front of me and continued his stroll.

I had to smile. It felt good having a man whatever his age was flirting with me. Opening the piece of paper, I saw his name, then read,
I want to blow the candles on your cake. Tonight. Spencer Domino.

Mercedes opened her hand. “Give it to me, Mama. Now.”

I stuffed the paper with his number on it in my purse. “Order your drink, child.”

Giving me a gift bag, Devereaux politely said, “
Happy
birthday, Mama.”

Mercedes requested a cabernet. Alexis ordered a mai tai. Devereaux wanted a JW Lemonade and Sandara asked for the same with a shot of vodka chilled on the side.

Opening the bag, I removed the tissue. I laughed. I knew exactly where the pink envelope was from. “Thank you, baby.” Inside was a fifty-dollar gift card to Victoria’s Secret. I flashed it in front of Mercedes.

She heaved, then said, “Fine, you might as well have this one too.” Mercedes placed her bag on the table in front of me.

Rummaging through the tissue, I held up a five-hundred-dollar gift card to Bloomingdale’s. Alexis’s gift was a fifty-dollar card from Sephora. Sandara handed me a twenty-dollar card for The Body Shop.

The waiter returned with the drinks and we placed our food orders. Sandara handed him her cell. “Take a picture of us, LB.”

He snapped several photos, then handed the phone back. Before Sandara had her cell in hand, Spencer intercepted it, leaned close to me, held the phone in front of us, clicked the side button twice. He said, “Here you go, beautiful,” then placed the cell in my hand.

“Her name is Blake,” Mercedes retorted. “Mother, he doesn’t even know your name.”

I gave the phone to Sandara.

Sandara said, “I just texted you the pics, Mom, and I posted them on my Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.”

“You put too much of your business on social media, lil girl. That’s why you’re always feuding with your welfare-rich-and-fameless friends,” Mercedes said.

Sandara fired back, “At least I have friends.”

I held my finger up to Mercedes. “Stop it. I mean it.”

Raising my girls by myself, I felt my heart ache for my youngest child. The hardship for me wasn’t monetary. It was being a solo parent even when a man was living in our home. I didn’t want to stop financially supporting Sandara. I had to figure out a way to help her become responsible for her kids the way I’d done for mine.

“I’ve decided to combine my cards and do a total makeover.”

Mercedes started tapping on her cell. Her phone dinged twice. “Let’s do it tomorrow! I booked you a hair appointment with Marcus Darlin! He’s fitting you in so we have to be there at six sharp.”

“Hush!” Devereaux said, then she started texting. “He told me I had to wait until he got back from a hair show in Dallas.”

Mercedes snatched Devereaux’s cell. “Don’t ruin it for Mother. He’s doing this as a favor to me.”

I glanced toward the bar, then back at my girls. “I want the sexiest style that takes ten years off of my fifty.”

“See what you’ve started, Mercedes,” Alexis said. “You’re the one encouraging Mama to get her feelings hurt.”

Sandara chimed in, “Alexis, don’t mess up Mama’s birthday.”

Mercedes stared at Sandara, then said, “You mean the way you messed up your life by having three kids by three different men and none of them are around.”

Sandara circled her finger along the rim of her glass. Tears filled her eyes as she mumbled, “If this bitch say one more thing to me, I swear she’s going to wear this drink.” Increasing her tone, she said, “You’re not better than me.”

“By what standards.
My
twins have a great father.” Mercedes dragged out the
f
word like it were a knife slowly slicing my baby girl’s heart in two.

“Really, Mercedes?” Devereaux commented.

Mercedes rolled her eyes at Devereaux. “You don’t want me to go in on you, trust me.”

The base of Sandara’s glass was still on the table. Quietly, I exhaled, “Thank you, Jesus.”

“I don’t have baby daddies. I have a husband. That’s because I am smarter than both of you,” Mercedes said. “Devereaux, Phoenix is never going to marry you. Never.”

Holding my breath, I watched Sandara pick up her glass. I shook my head. “Please, Sandara. Not today.”

Mercedes’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Sandara.

“Speaking of smart,” Alexis interrupted, then stood. “I have to work on my dissertation, about how having my father listed as unknown really impacted my life. As part of my research I’m going to find him mother.”

A bitter taste emerged in my mouth as I scolded her. “You will do no such thing young lady. I forbid you.”

Mercedes tugged on the hem of Alexis’s dress. “You’re creating a scene. Sit.”

Alexis stood taller, stared down into my eyes. “No apology, Mom. I’ve made up my mind. I believe the reason we’re all messed up is because we don’t know our fathers. You’d rather take it to your grave than to do the right thing. If you want to talk about this, I’m willing to discuss it with you later.” She strutted away, stomping one foot in front of the other.

Did she have to go there? Now each of my daughters was frowning. Attempting to regroup from the unexpected, I insisted, “Mercedes, apologize to your sisters.”

“For what? Why do I always have to be the one to say I’m sorry? I’m telling them the truth.”

“Because you are pathetic,” Devereaux said. “You always lash out at Sandara. You know she admires you. Stop beating her down all the damn time. So she made a mistake.”

Mercedes stood. “And you didn’t? When a mistake is repeated more than once”—she paused, and stared at Sandara—“it’s stupidity. Maybe Alexis is right. I’m out. Mama, I’ll call you later. And we’re still on for tomorrow morning.”

“Morning? I thought you meant six in the evening.”

Mercedes looked at me. “I’ll meet you there in the morning. “She told Devereaux, “Since you rode here with me, you can catch a ride from Mom.” Mercedes picked up her designer purse, eased it onto her shoulder, and left.

“I’ve lost my appetite. I’ma catch up to Mercedes. Plus, I need to get home to Nya . . .” Devereaux paused, then stared toward the bar. “Alexis doesn’t know when to quit. Let me go get that girl. Happy birthday, Mama.”

I stood. I did not want to be responsible for getting anyone anywhere. “Go catch your sister.”

Devereaux slid out of the booth. “I’ll meet you guys at the salon.”

Gazing toward Spencer, I noticed him smiling at Alexis. For a moment, I was jealous. My daughter was decades closer to that young man’s age than I. Devereaux pulled Alexis away and I saw Spencer’s eyes follow Alexis’s jiggling behind until she was out the door.

LB returned with five orders but only two of us remained.

I looked at Sandara. “You can go, baby. It’s okay.”

My child stared at the food, then at me.

I told LB, “Please, package everything to go.”

Sandara sat next to me, and leaned her head on my shoulder. I held her face with one hand as she cried.

“Why does Mercedes hate me, Mama?”

“She loves you. Baby, each of you are like me just in different ways. Mercedes has my high maternal standards. Alexis got my drive for college education. Devereaux desperately wants a family so she’ll hold on to Phoenix until he lets her go. And you choose to have sex with men who don’t do anything for you or your children.”

LB placed a large to-go bag on the table. “Can I get you anything else?”