Hooker to Housewife (28 page)

“Tyler, it's not even two o'clock in the afternoon and you're drinking. That's not a good look,” Chrissie remarked.

“Chrissie, please, it's only champagne. It's harmless. Some cultures can't start their day without having a drink.”

“Yeah, you're talking about that culture called drunk. I know a few of those. I'm hoping that I don't have to add you to that list.”

“You're so cynical. I'm just trying to relax. I recently finished a grueling movie schedule and in a few weeks I start another one. Can't a girl have a couple of glasses of champagne to clear her mind?”

“It depends what you're trying to clear. If it's a certain man, I hate to break it to you but no amount of liquor will erase that memory.” Tyler sat on her couch, flipping through the latest edition of
Cosmo
with Angelina Jolie on the cover, trying in vain to act as if she didn't hear a word Chrissie said. A frustrated Chrissie walked over and snatched the magazine from Tyler's hands.

“What is that all about?” Tyler squealed, irritated by Chrissie's obvious attempt to butt into her personal feelings.

“Because you're using that damn magazine as some sort of block so you don't have to pay attention to me.” Tyler took a deep breath and rolled her eyes, letting Chrissie know she wasn't amused by her therapy session.

“What do you want me to say, Chrissie? That I'm using alcohol as a crutch because I'm not with the man that I love?”

“Is that what's going on?” Tyler reached for her glass, trying to avoid answering the question, but Chrissie ripped it from her hands. “No more until we finish our conversation,” Chrissie said with authority.

“Fine!” Tyler was tired of fighting with Chrissie and figured the sooner they had their talk the sooner she could resume drowning her sorrows in the two cold bottles she had waiting in her refrigerator.

“Wonderful. So I guess you're not taking this whole wedding thing very well?”

“That's a dumb question. That's the best you could come up with?” Tyler remarked as she fidgeted with her velour jogging pants.

“No need to get smart. I thought we would start with the basics
and work our way up to the more complex topics,” Chrissie said candidly.

“Listen, Chrissie, when you're trying to nurse a broken heart there is no such thing as basic, everything is complex. Do you want to know what I ask myself every day? Is it worth it? The fame, the money, is it all worth losing love for? I don't know. At one point in my life I would've said without a doubt, because the only love I knew that was guaranteed was the love from my son. Now, I don't have a clue. Part of me wants to run to Andre and say I'll give it all up for you so we can be together but then to do that means I would make myself naked and vulnerable for him to break my heart. The funny thing is after Brian I didn't think I had anything left inside of me to break but I was wrong. Every day I'm not with Andre my stomach literally hurts. The only thing that numbs the pain temporarily is this glass of champagne. Without it, I'd probably be somewhere drowning in tears.”

“Then go to him. Give up everything you worked so hard for in order to secure independence and freedom to be with Andre Jackson. A man that obviously has an extremely unstable fiancée, is a notorious womanizer, and you haven't even known for a year. If that's the man you want to gamble your and your son's future on, then I'll be the maid of honor.” Tyler turned her head, disgusted by Chrissie's lack of understanding of her pain. “I know you think I'm being insensitive,” she said, as if reading Tyler's mind. “But I know what you've been through in your prior relationships and how far you've come. I don't want to see you throw it all away on a man that doesn't deserve you.”

“But maybe it will be different between us.”

“Tyler, do you really want to take that chance? It's nice to see that you're still optimistic in love but I don't think Andre is the one you need to take that chance with.”

“Maybe you're right, but it hurts so bad.” To break the somber mood, Chrissie broke into a horrible rendition of Whitney Houston's “Why Does It Hurt So Bad.”

Tyler couldn't help but crack a smile. “Chrissie, you sound like
a straight-up clown. Let's get the hell up outta this house and go shopping.”

“That's the Tyler I know and love.” Both women grabbed their purses and headed out the door.

 

As Andre entered William's office building he looked down at his watch, hoping he was making perfect time. He figured William was out on one of his power lunches and he would handle his business with William's assistant and be in and out without even running into his Achilles heel.

“Hi Stacey, I'm stopping by to sign that paperwork my agent insisted was so important,” Andre said derisively, since his agent always acted as if everything was an emergency.

“Yes, Mr. Jackson, let me get them for you.” The receptionist left her desk and disappeared into William Donovan's office to retrieve the documents. “Mr. Jackson, Mr. Donovan has the paperwork. He said to please come into his office to go over a couple of minor details.” Andre let out a loud sigh, revealing his annoyance at having a one-on-one encounter with his adversary.

“Hi William, I'm in a rush so exactly what do we need to go over?”

William stood up from his chair, walked around his desk and directly toward Andre. Andre instantly shifted his body in defense mode, wondering if William was about to tackle him like a football player. To his surprise and relief, William glided past him and shut the door. Although Andre knew he could handle any sort of physical altercation with William, he wasn't in the mood for an afternoon brawl.

“I don't like to discuss any sort of business with the door open,” William explained, as he walked back to his desk.

“No problem, but can we speed this up because as I said I'm in a rush.”

“Of course. Feel free to read over the papers and just sign where you see the ‘X.' ”

Andre dissected every sentence in the document and he noted in his mind that everything was just as his agent stipulated, so he had no idea what William needed to discuss. “Everything seems in order, so I'll just sign on the dotted line and be out.”

“Actually, I wanted to discuss the press junket that I'm having Chrissie set up for you to promote the movie. Here is the initial draft for the dates and locations.” William handed Andre the paper and could see the frown on his face. “Is there a problem with the dates, Andre?”

“Not the dates but the location. All these press junkets are taking place overseas. I was under the impression that Tyler and I would do the press junkets together here and then go overseas.”

“We thought it would be more productive and cost efficient if we had Tyler doing the press here and you doing them overseas.”

“You mean
you
thought,” Andre said disparagingly. “You're still determined to keep me and Tyler apart.”

William let out a small but detectable chuckle. “Keep you apart? If I'm not mistaken, Andre, you're due for a wedding soon. I don't have to try and do anything.”

“Then why can't Tyler and I do the press junkets together? It makes better sense.”

“I explained that to you, so please let Chrissie know if those dates work for you. I know you're in a hurry so I won't keep you any longer.” William put his head down and started going through some other materials, giving Andre the sign that their conversation was over. But Andre was far from done.

“You may think that because you pushed Tyler in a corner and she chose her career over me that it means she also chose you, but you're wrong. Tyler wants independence but she doesn't want you. You'll never have her heart. Whether she knows it or not, she'll always love me and one day she will come back.”

“Do you hear yourself, Mr. Andre Jackson? You're engaged to the mother of your child and talking about another woman coming back to you. Come back to what? A man that is tied down to a whole other life. Tyler is a star. She deserves better than that. I don't need you anywhere around her, poisoning her with that garbage.”

“You're one to talk. You're a married man. You think Tyler needs to be with an over-the-hill egotistical actor who is having an ongoing midlife crisis? So you have no right to judge me or my situation.”

“I'm only married on paper. My marriage has been over for a very long time. In another year my youngest child will be off to college and I will be getting a divorce. Once that happens, I have every intention on marrying Tyler. I promise you, she will be my wife. I have everything to offer her and you have nothing. After this movie Tyler will be a superstar, and she doesn't need to be caught up in your baby mama fiasco. The woman damn near killed herself trying to win you back. Nobody has time for that bullshit.”

Andre's natural reaction was to punch William for making light of Chantal's near-death experience, but something in him knew that her suicide attempt was nothing more than a well-thought-out scheme to win him back. Deep down inside he harbored resentment toward her because he believed that Chantal's actions played a part in the demise of his relationship with Tyler.

“Understand something, William. It's none of your business what happened with Chantal.”

“Yeah, but it is my business what happens to Tyler and that is my only concern. Personally I wish you and your ready-made family would go somewhere and never come back, but unfortunately I have no control over that. But I do have control over Tyler's career and I guarantee you'll never do another movie with her again.”

“You pompous son of a bitch! I may not have Tyler, but neither will you. If she does marry you, it will be out of pity. So know one
thing, when you're inside of her, she is wishing it is me.” Andre stormed out and slammed the door so hard one of William's million-dollar paintings fell to the floor. Luckily, it was carpeted.

When Andre reached his car he started the ignition and the Ja Rule song “New York” was blasting from his radio. He didn't turn it down but instead got pumped up over the song about his hometown. “I need to get the fuck out of this bullshit Hollywood town and take my ass back to New York. That's where all the real niggas at. Motherfuckers out here don't appreciate no real nigga, they just want a house nigga that know they place. I'm done with all this. I'm taking it back to New York.” Andre slammed on the gas and speeded home.

By the time Andre reached the front door, his anger over the conversation with William was still brewing. He wanted to put his fist through the wall but when he saw Chantal lying on the couch looking through bridal magazines he decided to take his frustrations out in another way. Without saying a word he lifted Chantal off the couch and pushed her up against the wall. He ripped off her lace boy shorts and thrust his dick inside of her from the back. He grabbed her hair and pulled it back as he pounded Chantal, making it nearly impossible for her to keep her balance. Her legs were becoming weak and her knees began to buckle under the intense pain but Andre wouldn't let go. Instead he pounded harder and Chantal had no choice but to scream for him to stop. “Andre, please stop, you're hurting me.” But still Andre didn't say a word. He threw Chantal down on the floor and held her head down with her on hands and knees, as he continued twisting her back out. Chantal was still in pain but was now in a more comfortable position and she began enjoying the intensity of the sex act. Her moans of pleasure became louder and louder, and Andre was actually pissed that she was now enjoying what was supposed to be a punishment. He put all his body weight into two last strokes and then grabbed Chantal's hair, slid out and squirted in her mouth. Like
the good whore Andre gave her credit for being, she swallowed all his cum like a champion. Before Chantal could finish tasting the last of Andre's semen, he had walked off and went straight in the shower. When she followed behind him, still in “ah” of the dick down he just put on her, he locked the bathroom door. It wasn't until then that Chantal realized that it wasn't a fuck of love or lust, but a fuck of hate.

When Andre woke up the next morning Chantal was sitting in the bed once again going through the bridal magazines. He couldn't believe that in just a few weeks she would be his wife. A woman that he didn't respect or even love for that matter. But if he couldn't marry the woman that had his heart then why not marry the woman who had his child? At least with Chantal she knew he would be fucking around and was used to it. The only woman he could imagine being true to was Tyler, and she made it clear they would never be together, so why keep torturing himself? But as he looked at Chantal he couldn't help but wonder if it was possible to turn a hooker into a housewife.

“Good morning, baby,” Chantal beamed as she realized Andre was now up. “I was trying to get some ideas for the bridesmaids' dresses. Baby, the dress that has been designed for me is off the hook but I can't have my bridesmaids upstaging me, so I'm coming up with what I want them to wear. What do you think about this?” she asked, showing Andre a picture of a matronly dress.

“It's cool,” he stated, not even glancing at the photo. “You need to pack your bags because we're going back to New York today.”

“What, going back to New York? Baby, I have a wedding to plan,” Chantal said in a panic-stricken voice.

“You can plan it in New York. We can have a nice wedding there.”

“Hell, no, Andre. I've already hired a wedding planner and everything is underway. We are having our wedding in Beverly Hills. It is too late to make any changes and I'm not postponing this wedding.” Andre could hear the determination in Chantal's
voice. He couldn't believe that less than three months ago he gave a beautiful pink diamond ring to the love of his life and now he was marrying the baby mama from hell. He was almost tempted to elope with Chantal and get the whole thing over with, since their marriage would be no more sacred than Britney Spears's Las Vegas wedding to Jason Alexander, but he knew Chantal wasn't having it. This was her moment to floss in front of all her chickenhead friends and family members. The only joy Andre could imagine was the happiness the wedding would bring to Melanie.