Material Girl 2: Labels and Love (14 page)

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Authors: Keisha Ervin

BOOK: Material Girl 2: Labels and Love
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“I know you
not
gettin’ ready to leave,” she snapped, slamming down the magazine.
“So
now
you wanna talk when you see I’m about to leave?”
“Don’t switch this around on me!” Milania roared. “You’ve been gone for I don’t know how long! Now you gettin’ ready to leave again? Just let me know, is this what it’s gettin’ ready to be like, ’cause I didn’t sign up for this shit!”
“Shit, if this ain’t where you wanna be, then go! Ain’t nobody keepin’ you here!” Angel shouted, having had enough of her shit.
Milania sat with her mouth wide open. If she didn’t know for a fact he could knock her out with just the slap of his hand, she would’ve jumped up and right hooked his ass.
“All right. When you get back I’ll be gone,” she challenged, folding her arms across her chest.
“Do you what you gotta do.” Angel shrugged his shoulders, turning the knob.
“Wait-wait!” Milania ran after him and grabbed his arm. Her heart was pounding out of her chest. She knew that she and Angel were going through a rough patch, but she didn’t realize that their relationship was actually on thin ice.
You doing too much, girl. Think, Milania, think,
she thought.
“I was just playin’. You know I’m not goin’ nowhere.” She tried to rationalize the situation.
“Well, I am.” Angel mean-mugged her, then slammed the door in her face.
 
 
The house was completely still. It was so quiet you could hear water from the faucet drip. Billie took off her shoes and tiptoed up the steps. After peeking in on the kids and kissing their sleeping faces, she headed into her bedroom where Knox lay on his back snoring lightly. The sight of his lovely face stopped her dead in her tracks. How could she have ever doubted him? He loved her so much that it scared her.
With Cain, she always felt like she was doing all the loving and nurturing. With Knox, he loved her despite her brash, take-charge attitude. All he wanted was for her to realize that there was more to life than a bunch of art shows and organizations. Life was about making time for the ones you love and enjoying the things you worked so hard to acquire.
Billie placed her knee on the edge of the bed and crawled slowly up Knox’s body. Straddling his lap, she leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. His eyes fluttered open.
“Hey,” she spoke softly.
“What time is it?” He rubbed his eyes.
“A little after nine.”
“Dylan, straight?”
“Yeah, she had a boy. His name is Mason.” Billie smiled at the thought of her nephew.
“That’s what’s up.”
“Thanks for watching the kids.” Billie looked at him nervously.
“You good, but since you back, I guess I should head on out.” Knox tried to get up.
“No! Wait!” Billie pushed him back down. “Stay, please.” She lowered her voice. “There are a few things that I need to say.”
Knox rested his head on the pillow.
“I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for pushing you away and being such an ice queen ’cause I know that I have a tendency of being that way. I just never thought I would end up being with someone else so soon, especially someone like you who’s so gentle and caring. You’re my best friend, and I know that I haven’t been that much of a friend to you, but I love you, Knox. And I promise that from this day on, I’m going to start putting you first. Well, you know, the kids come first, but—”
“Just shut up.” He covered her mouth with his hand.
“Do you still love me?” she mumbled.
“Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” He lowered his hand back down to his side.
A bright smile spread over Billie’s face.
“It must be my lucky day then, ’cause today is Thursday,” she smirked taking off her top.
“Lucky you.” Knox placed his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her face close to his.
“You ready to show me how much you love me?” He kissed her lips.
“In every way imaginable.” Billie unzipped his jeans and prepared herself to be taken to all heights of ecstasy.
 
“Even though I can do all these things by my damn self I need you.”
Jill Scott, “The Fact Is (I Need You)”
13
Despite what the haters said, Ashton was the shit. She could barely hold a note or memorize an eight-count dance step, but she had seven number-one hits, a Cover Girl contract, a clothing company, and a budding acting career. Outside of her megastar career, her other biggest achievement was marrying State. Like her, he was the best in his field. The two gave Hov and B a run for their money, but unlike America’s most famous couple, Ashton and State’s relationship was plagued with lies and infidelities.
Ashton thought she’d be able to keep State under control after she’d found out about his torrid affair with Hollywood’s forgotten “It Girl”-turned-loving mother Dylan, but Ashton was sadly mistaken. Her threat of taking half of his $350 million empire didn’t stop him from screwing around. Beyond fed up with the bullshit, Ashton decided it was time to throw in the towel and start anew.
Sure, it hurt that her marriage hadn’t worked, but a bitter divorce was always good for one’s career, and with all the dirt she had on State, she was sure to have the public on her side. And sure, she was in the process of moving on, but when Ashton learned of the pictures of State visiting Dylan at her bakery and him attending her baby shower, no less the scorned woman in her couldn’t help but make one last return. There was no way on God’s green earth that she could let him, or Dylan, for that matter, get away with that kind of blatant disrespect.
It was time for Ashton to show them both that she wasn’t just a chick who talked shit but a chick that could back it up as well. Lying flat on her stomach fully naked, Ashton enjoyed the tranquil sound of Ingrid Michaelson’s voice while her masseuse gave her a deep-tissue massage.
“Your guest is here, ma’am.” Her maid peeked her head inside the room.
“Send her in.”
“Hey, doll!” Milania strutted into the room.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Ashton lifted her head and air kissed both of her cheeks.
She and Milania had known each other since Jay-Z signed Rihanna. They’d meet at Diddy’s white party in the Hamptons and had been homegirls ever since.
“Have a seat.”
“Thanks, love.” Milania sat down and crossed her legs.
“So how are you? I know the last time I saw you, things between you and Angel was all bad.”
“Girl,” Milania rolled her eyes to the ceiling, “I thought I was gon’ have a situation on my hands when I got home that morning, but do you know that nigga wasn’t even there?”
“Really?” Ashton’s eyes grew wide.
“Yes, doll.”
“Where was he at?”
“I assume with Dylan.”
“Ugh,” Ashton pretended to gag. “She’s like a roach that won’t die.”
“I know. I’m so sick of that wack-ass broad.”
“I swear, I don’t know what the fascination is. The bitch’s forehead look like a rearview mirror,” Ashton joked.
“Right,” Milania giggled.
“But for real, I don’t know what else to do. No matter what I throw out, I just can’t get rid of this ho,” Milania said at her wit’s end.
“You my girl, right?” Ashton arched her eyebrow.
“Of course.”
“Then I got you.” Ashton wrapped the sheet around her and got up. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”
Moments later, Ashton returned.
“Helga, give us a second, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Helga wiped her hands and left the room.
Ashton locked the door behind her.
“After today, you will never have to worry about Dylan Monroe’s skank ass again. This right here,” she held up a DVD, “is gonna solve everything.”
“Is that what I think it is?” Milania’s eyes brightened.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I knew I fucked wit’ you for a reason.” Milania jumped up and snatched the disc from Ashton’s hand.
“So how are you gonna thank me?” Ashton bit into her bottom lip suggestively.
“You know we can’t keep this up. You almost got me in trouble the last time.” Milania took Ashton into her arms and planted a wet kiss on her lips.
“Chile, please. If I’ve learned anything over the last couple of years, it’s that what these niggas don’t know won’t hurt’em.”
 
 
“We’re home,” Dylan whispered joyfully with Mason’s pumpkin seat in hand.
He was asleep. Dylan was beyond ecstatic to be home. She hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep since she’d gone into labor, and now she’d finally be able to rest. It had been a nerve-racking experience going into labor five weeks early and having a baby who wasn’t born at a healthy weight, but they’d made it through. Mason was now a strong six pounds. After what seemed like an eternity, Dylan finally made it up the stairs to her room. It was hell carrying her purse, overnight bag, and pumpkin seat with a baby in it.
“I mean, goddamn,” she huffed, dropping the bags down.
Missing her terribly, Fuck’em started barking and jumping up and down in her cage. Dylan placed Mason on the bed and ran over to Fuck’em Gurl’s cage to release her.
“Hey, Mommy,” Dylan held her in her arms and rubbed her back and kissed her face. “I missed you. Your brother’s home. You wanna meet him? C’mon, let’s go see him.” She put the dog back down.
Back at the bed, Dylan noticed a note on her pillow that read:
I hope it’s everything you dreamed of.
Love, Angel
“Mason, Daddy got us a present.” She unbuckled his seat and wrapped him up in her arms. “But first let me introduce you to your sister.” She bent down so Fuck’em Gurl could view the baby and begin to get used to him.
“Okay, now let’s see what your daddy has been up to. I don’t see anything in here, sooooo . . .” she thought, trying to figure out what the note meant.
“It’s your room,” she gasped, heading in that direction.
Dylan quickly opened the door and found that the once-empty space had been completely decorated. The walls and ceiling were made of light blue, pale yellow, and pale green square blocks with a chocolate brown border. A white, modern-designed chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling. Mason had a white crib and a lime-green toddler table with light blue stools. In the corner was a white La-Z-Boy armchair that rocked. Dylan was so overcome with emotion that she began to cry. Mason began to cry too.
“Oh, honey, Mommy’s sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to make you cry.” She kissed him on the cheek and realized he’d pooped.
“You not cryin’ ’cause of me. You cryin’ ’cause you boo-booed.” Dylan gently laid him down on his new changing table and pulled out a fresh pamper.
Once Mason was completely undressed she slowly peeled open his diaper and discovered a chocolate nightmare that smelled like rotten eggs.
“Oh my God-oh my God.” Dylan stared at the ceiling, holding her nose. “I can’t do it. Oh Lord, I can’t!”
With one eye open and the other closed, Dylan looked back down and noticed Mason smiling.
“You laughing at me, man?” She smiled too, melting. “Okay, Mommy’s a rock star. I can do this. Ugh,” she mimicked throwing up while wiping his butt.
“Whew, I did it.” She removed the dirty diaper and replaced it with a new one.
But while Dylan wrapped up the soiled diaper, she forgot to cover Mason’s penis and without warning, pee spurted in her face.
“Whoa-whoa!” She tried blocking the urine with her hand to no avail.
It was like she was being sprayed in the face with a water hose. Feeling as if she were about to die, Dylan wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and recognized that she was in for the ride of her life.
“OMG, did my baby just give me my first golden shower?” she laughed. “Well, maybe second.”
Dylan quickly learned that being a new mom was a muthafucka. She went from everything in life being 100 percent about her to dedicating her very existence to someone she barely knew. Yes, she carried Mason in her stomach for seven months and three weeks, but she soon learned that taking care of a newborn baby was a lot like dating. For the last couple of weeks, they’d spent their time feeling each other out because, honestly, she didn’t know him, and he didn’t know her.
Dylan would catch herself and Mason from time to time staring at each other as if to say, “Who the hell are you?” Most of the day was spent with him crying and her breaking down as well. Mason never slept during the night, and she had to feed him every two to three hours, so sleep was out of the equation. The pooping and peeing never seemed to stop. She had to constantly wash his clothes, bathe him, hold him, burp him, and love on him. Dylan hardly ever had time to eat or bathe herself.
She was utterly worn-out. Dark circles had formed around her eyes. Her hair was all over her head. Her nails were chipped, and her feet were a hot atrocious mess. Even Fuck’em Gurl was scared to come near her. Dylan didn’t know what to do. She’d never seen this part of motherhood on television or in baby ads. No one ever told her it was a day-to-day struggle just to stay sane or that after giving birth, your once-tight body without blinking goes to shit or how stretch marks were scratch marks sent directly from the devil.
She couldn’t even sleep on her stomach yet, because her stomach felt like a bowl of Jell-O. Yes, being a new mom was a bitch and every day Dylan was getting slapped harder and harder. On that particular afternoon, she sat on her bed trying to get Mason to nurse, but out of spite, he just wouldn’t latch on. It was like he was saying, “Uh-uh, bitch.” At any minute, Dylan felt like she would have a nervous breakdown.
“Girl, you ain’t got that baby to stop crying yet?” Candy came in the room with a cup of Jack and Coke in her hand.
“He’s still cryin’, isn’t he?” Dylan snapped frustrated, feeling as if she were about to cry.
“Don’t be gettin’ mad with me. Girl, you betta give that baby some Tussin and call it a night.”
“I will not.”
“Then give him a bottle.” Candy sat opposite her on the bed.
“No, I’m breastfeeding him. He just won’t cooperate,” Dylan huffed. She felt like a complete loser.
“Even while I was in the hospital he wouldn’t act right.”
“How have you been feeding him?” Candy ran her index finger across her grandson’s cheek.
“I’ve been expressing my milk and freezing it,” Dylan replied with tears in her eyes.
“Look, girl, you gon’ drive yo’self crazy. Everybody ain’t meant to breastfeed. Hell, I tried to wit’ you.”
“You did?” Dylan said surprised.
“Yes, and it was one of the worst experiences of my life.”
“Thanks,” Dylan replied sarcastically.
“No, seriously, we all have to make sacrifices, even though we may not want to.”
“Mama, please, you have never sacrificed anything a day in your life.” Dylan waved her off.
“Yes, I have.”
“Yeah, right,” Dylan twisted her mouth to the side. “Like what?”
“Like those sixteen hours I spent in labor with you even though it was Margarita Monday over at The Max,” Candy said with a laugh.
“You know what? I’m over this conversation.” Dylan went to stand up.
“No, let me talk to you.” Candy urged her to sit back down. “Being a mother is a process . . . like Ice-T’s hair. You’re going to have your triumphs, and you’re going to have your failures, but it’s all a learning experience. No woman out here is a perfect mother. I did the best I could with you considering the kind of mother I had.”
Dylan stared at her mother with tears in her eyes.
“Your grandmother Dahl, God bless her soul, hated me,” Candy continued staring off absently.
“From the day I was born, she told me I would never amount to shit. And I think somewhere deep down inside I believed her. You know, it’s hard tryin’ to live up to someone who was so iconic, but I tried. I tried so hard to stand out on my own as a singer, but everybody always compared me to her. And after I had you, I promised myself that I would never make you feel the way she made me feel, but I ended up doing the same thing. Dylan, I tried being the best mother I could. And I know I messed up—”

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