Material Girl 2: Labels and Love (17 page)

Read Material Girl 2: Labels and Love Online

Authors: Keisha Ervin

BOOK: Material Girl 2: Labels and Love
12.06Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“So how is my nephew?” Billie cut into her appetizer.
“Girl, look, I took a picture of him while I gave him a bath the other day.” Dylan showed her a picture from her cell phone.
“Look at him,” Billie smiled, cheerfully. “He is sooooo cute, wit’ his fat self.”
“I know. I can’t get him off my tit now,” Dylan joked.
“You silly,” Tee-Tee giggled.
“No, seriously, if you had tits, I’d make
you
breastfeed him.”
“Girl, I’d be happier than a make-a-wish kid at Disneyland.” Tee-Tee slapped his hand against his thigh and chuckled.
“You going to hell for that,” Dylan cracked up, laughing.
“In a hand basket,” Tee-Tee bucked his eyes and pointed his index finger. “So, what’s the T, ladies?” He took a small sip of his Cosmo.
“I promise y’all since my book came out my BlackBerry has been on another level. I’ve been asked to do a photo shoot with
Vanity Fair,
and Gray called me and asked me to do an interview with
Haute Couture
magazine.” Dylan smiled happily.
“That’s good, girl,” Billie said, wiping her mouth with her napkin.
“I know. I’m just excited about my show. You know the pilot airs next week. I just hope people tune in,” Dylan said wistfully.
“Girl, please. All I gotta do is make one phone call and the whole Get ’Em Girl Mafia gon’ watch.” Tee-Tee referenced the underground gang of gay men he hung with.
“Really?”
“Yeah, chile, we worldwide now.” He pursed his lips.
“So are things between you and Knox still good?” Dylan asked Billie.
“Hell, yeah. I learned my lesson. Ain’t no way I’m losing my husband again.” Billie smirked, winking her eye.
“Good. I like Knox.” Dylan took a small sip of her Sprite.
“Me too,” Tee-Tee ran his tongue across his upper lip.
“Get stabbed with this fork,” Billie cautioned, holding it up in a striking position.
“Girl, please, I ain’t scared of no ghost.” Tee-Tee flicked his wrist.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Dylan said, ecstatic. “I’ve been invited to Paris Fashion Week.”
“Shut the front door,” Tee-Tee gasped. “Girl, don’t play.”
“You know I never joke about panty lines, Brangelina, or fashion week.”
“Aww, shit. That’s what’s up.” Tee-Tee snapped his finger, grooving to an imaginary beat.
“And I got front-row seats to some of the shows, so, of course, you two bitches are invited.” Dylan looked at both of them.
“Girl, I’m already packed,” Tee-Tee replied.
“I can’t go,” Billie pouted.
“Why not?” Dylan questioned, disappointed.
“You know Knox and my anniversary, just passed so we’re taking a vacation to celebrate.”
“Aww, yeah, I totally forgot.” Dylan slapped her hand against her forehead.
“Too bad. Now who am I gonna get to watch Mason?”
“Yo’ mama,” Tee-Tee fiddled with his salad and grinned.
“You out yo’ damn mind,” Dylan suddenly frowned.
“Bernard can keep him. He’s a stay-at-home husband anyway. Speaking of my boo, we gettin’ a baby soon!” Tee-Tee did the Cabbage Patch.
“Congratulations!” Dylan high-fived him.
“Thanks, luv.” Tee-Tee batted his eyes.
“It is a girl or a boy?” Billie quizzed.
“A girl.”
“Get it, bitch!” Billie threw her hands up in the air.
“So you’re
sure
going to get this one?” Dylan asked, concerned.
“Yes, this baby isn’t a newborn, she’s six months and has been in the system since she was born.”
“Well, I’m happy for you, boo,” Dylan said as her food came.
“Really, Dylan?” Tee-Tee looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “Soup and a half of salad? You know we suppose to be on the Nicole Richie diet.”
“Shut up,” she snapped, giving him the middle finger.
“So what’s going on between you and my brother?” Billie took a bite of her food.
“I don’t know. We talk and skype every day, but it’s like there is a distance between us. Ever since we slept together it’s been weird.” Dylan played with her food.
“Have you told him you’re going to Paris yet?”
“No. We’re going to skype later.”
“Ooh, y’all gon’ skype sex, ain’t y’all?” Tee-Tee leaned forward, dying to know.
“Nooo, we’re not.” Dylan said with a deliberate emphasis on the word no.
“Heffa, please don’t act demure. We all know you the biggest freak at this table.”
“Okay, we might! Are you happy now?” Dylan snorted with laughter.
“Y’all are disgusting. Ugh, I feel like I need to Purell my brain,” Billie scowled.
“Don’t hate,” Dylan smiled. “But on the real, y’all, I feel like I need a makeover or some kind of change in my life.”
“Why you say that?” Tee-Tee poked out his bottom lip, making a sad face.
“’Cause I just don’t wanna become one of those moms with a Kate Gosselin haircut and mom jeans all the way up to my armpits with no man,” Dylan pouted.
“Girl, please, you are way too fly for that.” He waved her off.
“You’re not just sayin’ that to make me feel better, are you?”
“I would never say anything to make you feel better,” he assured her.
“I dread every moment we spend together,” Billie added jokingly.
“Y’all really are my bitches.” Dylan dabbed her eyes with her napkin pretending to cry.
“No, seriously, your style is so Atlantic City hooker meets Bloomingdale’s, it’s crazy,” Tee-Tee chewed his food.
“Thank you,” Dylan crossed her hands over her heart. “That means the world to me.”
“Y’all are stupid,” Billie giggled.
“Maybe I just need a man,” Dylan sighed.
“What about Angel?” Tee-Tee inquired.
“I don’t know what to qualify him as,” Dylan responded.
“Well have you ever tried writing a list of all the qualities you want in a man?” Billie questioned.
“Girl, yeah. I wrote down all the qualities I wanted in a man, and in the end, I realized that muthafucka was too good for me,” Dylan laughed.
“You are silly.”
“I’m serious as hell.”
“Well, look,” Tee-Tee interjected, “while we’re talkin’, I’m making a visual clothing store for you right now in my head. Just tell me which shirt you want.”
“Oooh, the Balenciaga one.” Dylan leaned forward, eyes sparkling.
“Is that the only thing you two do is talk about clothes? I bet neither of you have read a book in the last six months,” Billie challenged.
“Uh-uh, I read a book,” Dylan stated proudly.
“Umm, sweetie,” Tee-Tee pouted, “the instruction manual to Mason’s swing doesn’t count as a book.”
“Why not? It was a page turner. You know, for a while there, I didn’t even know where to put him in at.”
“On that note, when do we leave?” Tee-Tee asked outdone.
“In two weeks,” Dylan answered.
“Uh-oh, Paris better watch out ’cause
here we come!
”
 
“Nothin’ more beautiful than knowing your worth.”
Fantasia, “I’m Doin’ Me”
16
“Say ‘hi’ to Daddy!” Dylan waved Mason’s hand while he stared at the computer screen.
“Hey, man!” Angel waved back, smiling. He never got sick of seeing his son’s face and truly missed being away from him.
“He’s gettin’ so big.”
“We just went to the doctor. He weighs twelve pounds.” Dylan kissed Mason on the top of his head.
“That’s my boy. He gon’ be a heavyweight like me.”
“That’s the same thing his doctor said. So how is training camp going?”
“Good.” Angel yawned. “I think I’m ready.”
“You better be after all of this,” Dylan joked.
“Oh ole boy ain’t winning at all. I got this in the bag,” Angel boasted.
“You got this in the bag, huh? Let me see your muscles.”
Angel proudly lifted his right arm and flexed his welldefined bicep. Dylan almost had a fit. His body was at its physical peak, and she wanted to explore every nook and cranny of it.
“I saw the segment you did for E News with Giuliani. You did good. You ’bout to be the next Rachael Ray,” Angel said.
“I mean you know.” Dylan turned her head, smiling. “Rachael Ray cool, but homegirl ain’t got nothin’ on me.”
“Look at you over there with the big head. Nah, I’m happy for you, though. I always knew you could do it.”
“Thanks. That means a lot coming from you,” Dylan said solemnly. “I got good news.” She perked up. “I was invited to fashion week in Paris so I was thinking while I’m over there I could come see you.”
“Is Mason going wit’ you?” Angel asked curiously.
“No, I’ll be there for three days so Bernard is going to keep him for me.”
“I don’t know how I feel about that,” Angel frowned.
“What?”
“You think it’s a good idea for you to be flying across the country when you got a three-month old son at home?” Angel said disapprovingly.
“Has all the rain over there made you senile or crazy?” Dylan snapped her neck. “’Cause ain’t you the same person who left his newborn son for three
months,
leaving me here to do everything
by myself?
Mason is with me twenty-four hours a day. He goes to sleep and wakes up with me, goes to work with me at the bakery and at the show, then I come home and get both of us ready to do it all again the next day, so before you ask me anything about taking a three-day business trip that is going to help further my career, you need to check yo’self, homeboy!”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Angel apologized from the bottom of his heart.
After that neither of them knew what to say. Angel knew he had crossed the line big time. Dylan was an excellent mother who went above and beyond the call of duty. She deserved a break. Angel had no right coming to her like that.
“So do you want me to come or not?” Dylan said with an attitude.
“Nah, just go ’head and go to your fashion week thing. I’ma be training the whole time anyway, so it really don’t make no sense for you to go outta your way to fly over here too.”
Dylan’s heart stopped. Her body felt frozen. She thought by now that she and Angel would have gotten past all the back-and-forth cat and mouse games but obviously not.
“So what’s the deal, Angel? ’Cause you been actin’ real funny here lately. Was the other night a mistake?” Dylan looked into the screen praying silently that he’d say no.
“I mean,” Angel hesitated, “I thought we both knew what it was, just one night.”
Dylan felt like she’d been sucker punched in the chest. All the wind had been knocked out of her. “Is that what it was?” Her voice cracked.
“Come on, Dylan, we never had any problems in the bedroom. It was the other rooms in the house we couldn’t handle.”
Dylan wanted to find the right words to convey how she felt, but all that seemed to come from her lips was air. For the past two and a half years of her life, she’d held out hope that Angel would see the genuine love she had for him tucked away in her heart. If given the chance, she would’ve given him her all, but for some reason, he just wasn’t willing to receive it.
She’d tried giving him time to see that she’d changed for the better, but no matter how much she made herself available, laughed at his corny jokes, or prayed to God to send him back to her, Angel wasn’t going to give in. Worn-out from fighting a never-ending battle, Dylan threw in the towel. She was done. She couldn’t wait around for Angel anymore.
“All right, then, umm . . . I need to put Mason down so I guess I’ll talk to you later.” She looked down instead of at him.
“A’ight, I’ll call you tomorrow.” Angel gazed at her once more before logging off.
Sitting with his hands crisscrossed behind his head, Angel knew that he’d fucked-up royally with Dylan. Instead of being so harsh, he should’ve just told her the truth, which was that he was scared, scared that she might hurt him again. He was so afraid that if he allowed himself to open up to her once more, she’d trample on his heart, but this time, with spiked stiletto heels.
With every relationship he’d entered, Angel rushed in headfirst, only to be let down in the end. He was fed up with the women in his life taking his love for granted. This time, he was going to do things differently. He wouldn’t jump into something new just to dull the pain. He’d face the relationship demons that haunted him with his chin up and shoulders back.
It would make him a better man. Angel got up and lay down on the bed. Gazing up at the ceiling, it suddenly hit him that the only thing that was missing was Dylan and his son. The maddening quietness which surrounded him proved it.
 
 
Dylan Monroe and Teyana aka Tee-Tee strolled Le Triangle d’Or (the golden triangle) in Paris ,where luxury goods like Piget, Louis Vuitton, Rochas, Prada, and Givenchy were the opiates of choice. They’d only been in the City of Light a few hours and had already done major retail therapy at ultra chic shops such as Tally Weijl, Zadig et Voltaire, and Dylan’s favorite ba&sh. No other destination in the world could compete with Paris.
Every time Dylan got a chance to visit, she made it her business to hit up the Louvre, Notre Dame, and the historic Café de Flore. For Dylan, Paris was like heaven on earth. She was almost sure that night she would go to sleep dreaming of Louboutin and Laurent. She was très chic with her hair pulled into a French roll with side swept bangs. Dressed in a gray men’s blazer with the collar popped up and the sleeves pushed back, a black T-shirt with the phrase “She Died Of Perfection” written on it, a white petticoat, white ankle socks, and tan-colored Nanette Lepore pumps with a bow accent on the toe, Dylan strolled gleefully down the cobblestone sidewalk as if she were in an opening of
The Mary Tyler Moore Show
.
A slight smile graced the corners of her lips as she took in the ambiance of the old buildings before her. The sweet smells of freshly baked croissants, blueberry scones, and apple crêpes wafted through the air tantalizing her nose. The women and men who walked by looked sophisticated and smart and seemed to live a lifestyle of leisure where time wasn’t of the essence, but good food and great conversation were. This was the life, and Dylan wouldn’t have traded this moment for anything in the world.
“Ahhhh, the end of summer in Paris couldn’t be any better!” Dylan clasped her hands.
“I know, girl! Bonjour!” Tee-Tee waved at people as they strolled by.
“I feel like myself again,” Dylan beamed, twirling around in a circle, then suddenly stopped. “Sweet baby Jesus, there it is!”
“There what is?” Tee-Tee looked around.
“Coco Chanel’s apartment!” Dylan pointed with delight. “We found it!”
“Girl, I think I done died and gone to heaven!” Tee-Tee whipped out his Flip camcorder.
“Ooh, I can smell the scent of Chanel 5 from out here.” Dylan sniffed the door frame.
“Pose for the camera, girl!” Tee-Tee insisted.
Dylan threw up her hands, placed her legs together, and cheesed.
“Ooh, Tee-Tee, we did it!” She hugged her cousin overjoyed.
“We’re like so having a moment,” Tee-Tee gushed.
“I know it’s like kinda on another level.”
“Bananas.” Tee-Tee released her and stood back in awe.
“I wish we could call Billie and tell her.”
“Girl, you know we ain’t got no kind of reception over here. C’mon.” He took her by the hand. “We got some more shoppin’ to do.”
 
 
The Rue La La party was off the charts. In one corner you had Lindsey Lohan dressed in an Elie Saab gown with a scram bracelet on her ankle, and in another corner were Estelle and Thandie Newton gossiping like two schoolgirls. Solange was on the ones and twos spinning “One” by Sky Ferreira. Models like Chanel Iman and Jessica Stam partied on the dance floor. The whole scene was a huge dog and pony show, and Dylan loved every minute of it.
With a glass of Chardonnay in her hand, she gazed around the crowded room. The place was packed to the brim. The fashion industry’s elite were all in attendance and celebrating the extravagant shows from earlier that day. Dylan absolutely adored the Valentino show. It was filled with her two favorite things in life: ruffles and lace. Taking a sip of her wine, she wondered how Mason was doing. She missed her baby so much it hurt, and the pain of knowing that she was so close to Angel but him not wanting to see her gnawed away at her insides. Sensing her sadness, Tee-Tee took her glass of champagne from her hand.
“What are you doing?” Dylan reached over to snatch it back but was too slow.
“You finna go dance,” he demanded, pushing her forward.
“No, I’m not.” She shook her head.
“You need to. Enjoy yourself for a change. That li’l big head baby of yours is all right,” he teased.
“My baby do got a big head,” Dylan laughed.
“Now go get on that dance floor and make Mama proud. Show these Parisian bitches how we do it back in the Lou!”
“Hold this.” She handed him her new Carlos Falchi clutch purse and strutted over to the floor.
Unaware of her affect on the male population in the room, Dylan found her a spot with enough room and started to groove along to the bass-pounding beat of Usher’s “Li’l Freak.” The song was so sensual it was almost sinful. From across the room a fellow by the name of Javier Nathaniel Cruz leaned against the bar with a cup of Hennessy in his hand. For the last fifteen minutes he’d been having a conversation with a group of rail-thin supermodels when out of the blue, the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes upon caught his attention from the dance floor.
She was the kind of chick who wasn’t in search of companionship or a man to complete her. From the way she threw up her arms, closed her eyes, and sang along to the tune, he could tell she was strictly there to have a good time. From the looks of her, he could tell she was way too fly for him, but he had to have her, so he grew wings and floated across the room to greet her. The women he’d left behind were flabbergasted that he’d left them so abruptly for an American, but he could care less. Dylan was the only woman in the room who held his attention. All eyes were on him as he walked in behind her and placed his arms around her waist
.
Dylan didn’t know who she was dancing with, but the scent of his Tom Ford Champaca Absolute Cologne had her open with just one whiff. In her element, Dylan ran her hand down the side of his face while moving her hips from side to side. Javier was fully focused on her sway. Then they came face-to-face. Dylan was speechless. Outside of Angel, she’d never seen a man so gorgeous.
He towered over her, standing tall at six feet two with an athletic physique. His skin was the creamy color of shea butter. He was exotically handsome in a he-couldget-it-any-day-of-the-week-type way. He rocked a low cut. Smoldering green eyes, a slim nose, a sculpted beard, perfectly plump pink lips, and pearly white teeth made up his facial features. His biceps had highs and lows like mountaintops. Various tattoos covered both his arms and hands.
The man was magically delicious in a tan, blue, yellow and black plaid jacket with brown leather sleeves, black tee shirt, fitted jeans, brown combat work boots and Ray Ban shades. From the looks of his fitted jeans, Dylan was almost sure he was working with a python. He was so fine she prayed to God that she wouldn’t start drooling. Dylan looked up into his eyes and swore he could see right through to her soul, and when he gave her his ten million-dollar smile, everyone else in the room disappeared.
He didn’t even have to utter a word for her to know he was the type of man she went for. Quietly, he took her hand and whisked her away to where the moon could be their guiding light. In the open warm air under a streetlight, Javier leaned his back against the pole and stared down at Dylan’s angelic face.
Dylan couldn’t have asked for a better romantic Paris moment. What she was experiencing was unlike anything she’d ever seen on television. The lights from the Eiffel Tower whizzed over their heads. The humid air made love to their lips as Javier pulled her close to his chest.

Other books

Somewhere in the Middle by Linda Palmer
Bad Mothers United by Kate Long
Inside Out by Ashley Ladd
Abolition Of Intelligence by Peter James West
Quit by Viola Grace
The Accused (Modern Plays) by Jeffrey Archer
Kismet by AE Woodward
A Demon in My View by Ruth Rendell