Hooker to Housewife (6 page)

Shari knew what time it was. Chantal always came first and all her other friends were put on pause when she needed her. Shari and Chantal used to be ho partners in crime, but unfortunately Shari hadn't found her long-term sugar daddy yet. Shari was almost as pretty as Chantal, so all hope wasn't lost. Sooner or later she would hook her man, but she needed to hurry up. Shari already had a six-year-old son by some has-been actor and he wasn't
giving her a dime. She was in serious need of a sponsor and every day they were plotting on her next victim.

“Girl, I'm back. Michelle be getting on my damn nerves. She act like she doesn't know what ‘I'll call you back means.' So, what's up?”

“Andre's motherfucking ass.”

“What did he do now?” Shari asked in that “here we go again” tone.

“I know he got some new piece of ass he's fucking with because he rushed me out of New York the day after the movie premiere,” Chantal complained.

“Girl, how was that?” Shari asked, more interested in that topic of conversation.

“Off the chain—all the Hollywood big shots were in attendance. I even met fine-ass Denzel Washington. If I wasn't with Andre that cat would be mine.”

“Damn, Chantal, you can't have all the men.”

“Says who?” They both burst out laughing.

“What you doing, because I'm coming to get you,” Chantal said. She needed to talk to her best friend in person.

“Okay, I'll be ready.” Shari hung up the phone and Chantal hopped in her new silver Porsche Cayenne and started listening to what she considered a classic CD, Usher's
Confessions.
Chantal said to herself, that Usher kept it real on this joint. As she listened to the introduction to “Confessions,” she couldn't help but think to herself,
That's my girlfriend Tina he was all up in the Beverly Center with. Ha. Oh well, there is no baby so that payday is gone.

When she pulled up to Shari's crib, her friend came running outside in some tight black pants with a bad-ass Dolce & Gabbana shearling coat.

“Bitch, you better work. Where the fuck did you get that coat?” Chantal gasped.

“Ain't this shit fly? Chris hooked me up.”

“Chris, who the hell is Chris?” Chantal was curious to know.

“That football player I told you about.”

“You still messing with him? It's been like six months. Are ya getting serious?”

“Well, he took me and Alex on a shopping spree and besides this coat he got me this tennis bracelet.” Shari pulled up her sleeves to reveal a sparkling platinum and diamond bracelet that even made Chantal green with envy.

“So he's spending dough like that and time with your son?” Chantal stated sounding surprised.

“Yes. He said he wanted to be a father to Alex.”

“You think he might be the one?”

“I'm hoping because I'm tired of running these streets. I'm ready for someone to wife me.”

Chantal knew exactly what Shari was talking about. This ho game was no joke; these bitches were vultures. It was every hooker for herself. Chantal had played the game for so long she was beginning to believe the game was playing her. She had to get Andre to marry her soon because she wasn't about to let Shari beat her to the punch. Shari was her girl, but it was still about competition. She had put in too many years with Andre to let Shari and her new six-month fling upstage her. As Chantal was driving she glanced at Shari who was still admiring her new diamond tennis bracelet. Shari was stunning. She had that Gabrielle Union-type look, but far more beautiful. Her complexion was a perfect shade of brown and she had long jet-black straight hair that was all hers. She was tall and model slim with full C breasts.

Lucky for them they never attracted the same type of guys. If you were looking for that runway model look, then Shari was for you. If you wanted that drop dead gorgeous
Playboy
model look, then Chantal would be your choice. That was probably why they were best friends, because they were totally opposite physically but both had the love for the dollar in common.

Chantal turned the corner to West Armitage and pulled up to Charlie Trotter's restaurant. They were going to have an early dinner and a couple of drinks. They frequented the spot so often there
was no need to make a reservation. Once they were sitting at their usual table in the corner, Chantal immediately began to vent. “I don't know what I'm gonna do about Andre. I'm trying to figure out exactly who he is creeping with. For some reason, I think this might be more of a relationship than just your casual jump-off.”

“Why you say that?”

“Because he has been acting strange. Remember, I started as the jump-off. When he first started seeing me and got caught up he was going hot and heavy with that movie-star chick. Of course I shut that down when I got pregnant with Melanie, but I remember how he was giving her the runaround. Canceling dates, not picking up the phone, and just ducking her on a regular basis until he could no longer keep shit in the bag. I'm feeling like he is playing those same games with me.”

“Have you said anything about it to him?”

“Not exactly, but I did ask him when he was going to have me and Melanie move back to New York to be with him.”

“What did he say?” Shari asked.

“Nothing that I wanted to hear. That same bullshit about him not being ready. Girl, I thought we would be engaged by now.”

“Me, too. You got about five crazy diamond rings and not one of them is the engagement ring. It's like, damn!”

“Tell me about it. This shit is getting so tired. I'm sick of my name being in the papers as his ‘baby mother' or ‘gal pal.' Do you know one paper actually called me the ‘long-suffering girlfriend'? They talk about me like I'm fifty years old and at the end of my rope. This is some bullshit. But I feel stuck right now.”

“Maybe you should dump him and find a new man. You're beautiful Chantal. There are a ton of guys that would love to wife you.”

“But are they Andre Jackson? Hell no! You can't get no better than that. All the work and time I put into this relationship, you think I'm gonna let the next chick step in my shoes? I don't think so. I'm riding this out to the bitter end.”

Andre Jackson seemed
to be destined for greatness since the day he was born. His father was the lead singer of a legendary R&B group that stayed at the top of the charts throughout the late seventies and eighties. By the time Andre was seven years old he had accompanied his father on at least two worldwide tours. By the time he was thirteen, the word “virginity” was a distant memory and having one of the band member's groupies give him head was to be expected. Actually, by then Andre had a few groupies of his own. His father treated Andre more as a friend than a son. He would allow Andre to sit back and indulge in alcohol with the fellas and even smoke weed. Mr. Jackson reasoned he was making his son a man. During this time Andre began discovering his love of hip-hop music and perfecting his skills as a rap artist. In Andre's formative years, he had experienced and seen more than men twice his age. Witnessing women being degraded and degrading
themselves on a regular basis gave him a warped view of relationships. He believed it was a woman's duty to please a man and a man's duty to please as many women as he liked. The only woman Andre respected was his mother.

Mrs. Jackson was the complete opposite of the groupies Andre was used to being around. He never understood how his mother and father even married since they were so different. She never indulged in the superstar musician lifestyle. Instead of attending glamorous parties she enjoyed tending to her huge garden or designing and sewing outfits for the group's backup dancers. She was extremely talented in her own right but preferred staying in the background instead of seeking the spotlight. As Andre got older he assumed that's why their marriage was able to survive all those years because, although she didn't condone her husband's hard partying lifestyle, she let him be and chose not to be a part of it. His mother didn't like Andre being exposed to the vulgar surroundings one could witness in the presence of her husband and his band, but Mr. Jackson was the king of his household and he decided where and what his son would see.

Being the son of a music icon definitely had its advantages and Andre made sure he got maximum usage out of it. He'd grown up around music royalty all his life and knew one day he would dominate the profession as his father had. But Andre also wanted to take over the one arena that would never open its doors to his father: Hollywood. Andre's father longed to break into films but during the height of his stardom the roles for black men were limited and the ones available were already occupied by a chosen few. Although his father had plenty of money and a successful career, not being embraced by the Hollywood elite had bruised his ego and left him with a chip on his shoulder.

In the early nineties, after more than ten prosperous years in the music industry, Mr. Jackson hung up his mike and retired. With the eruption of the hip-hop world he became his son's
biggest fan. Andre catapulted to rap stardom damn near overnight. By the time Andre was twenty he already had two multiplatinum albums under his belt and a few Grammys and BET and MTV awards to go with it.

The same year Andre was about to break into superstardom his father passed away unexpectedly from lung cancer. Despite all the money he had, he always neglected his health. Going to the doctor for a yearly checkup was never on his to-do list. On his last night in the hospital before he died, Andre promised his father that not only would he be the biggest music entertainer in the world, but he would also become the movie star Hollywood never gave his father the opportunity to be.

The death of Andre's father hit him hard. Instead of facing the pain, he chose to escape it by focusing more on his booming career and delving deeper into the world of sex, drugs, and all-night partying. Before long the time seemed to run together and Andre couldn't differentiate between the days and nights. Andre's life was one endless party filled with little happiness. His mother prayed that her son would snap out of his destructive path but she'd been married to a man with the same stubborn streak and she was well aware that only Andre could make that change when and if he chose to. During that dark time in his life was when he met Chantal Morgan, the type of woman that was his mother's worst nightmare and that his father warned him about. Andre knew his dad was turning in his grave knowing he had become infected by a woman that his father would label “poison.”

Andre didn't know what he was going to do about Chantal. Their minds were in two different places. All the stress she was putting on him about moving to New York and getting married was driving him crazy. He didn't think they were going to last this long and wouldn't have if it wasn't for Melanie. Andre's daughter was beautiful, just like her mother. He just prayed she didn't grow
up to be a tramp like her mother. He wondered how he ever let Chantal trap him.
My dad used to always tell me don't keep company with a ho because you'll end up falling in love with a ho. You should fuck a ho, pay a ho, and send her home. Why didn't I do that with Chantal?
Andre questioned himself, shaking his head with disgust.

Something about Chantal just kept Andre coming back. He couldn't shake her. For one she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and her body was perfect, plus she could suck a mean dick. But she had no substance. Everything was about money to Chantal. She had no ambition besides fucking, sucking, and spending his money. No matter how hard Andre tried, he couldn't get her to go to school or start any type of career. All Chantal wanted to do was sleep all day and party all night. She didn't even take care of their daughter. Chantal would leave Melanie with a nanny and run around, tearing the streets up with her girlfriends, getting high.

Andre came to the conclusion that all of that was about to change. Chantal was in for a rude awakening. He had big plans and most of them didn't include her. He was tired of dealing with her dead weight. He needed an official woman to settle down with and make a wife. One that his father would've approved of and his mother could respect. The places Andre was trying to go called for a certain caliber of lady and Chantal didn't fit the bill. It was time to start putting his plan in effect.

He was in deep thought, and the ringing phone shook him back into reality. “Hello,” he said.

“What's up, baby? I was wondering what time you were picking me up.”

“Um, give me about an hour.”

“That's cool, where are we going?”

“My man Jay-Z is having a private party at his club 40/40. Supposed to be real nice, so wear something sexy.”

“Okay, baby, I sure will,” Arisa said before hanging up the phone.

Arisa was still hanging in there. After that crazy night when Chantal tried to kill her, Andre didn't think she would want to fuck with him anymore, but all it did was make him more enticing. Andre was digging the chick because she didn't give him no problems. She wasn't exactly wifey material, but she was definitely a keeper as one of his main jump-offs. Plus, she didn't mind getting freaky with hers. For his birthday Arisa actually brought two of her girlfriends and they gave Andre the show of his life. They ate each other out, finger popped one another and then started fighting over who was gonna blow him first. Andre loved that shit; he kept them freaks at his crib for three days straight. Taking turns dicking them down and watching them do each other.