Millionaire Wives Club (19 page)

At first she thought she could swing with Kendu saying the bare minimum to her, acting as if they were barely roommates, as long as he didn’t leave her. But she’d been noticing more and more how he would disappear for days and weekends and she could swear he’d come back with the faint scent of Chanel No. 5 lingering on his body.

“Aiyanna!” she yelled, and a few minutes later Aiyanna skipped into the kitchen.

“Sit down and eat your breakfast before the bus comes.”

Aiyanna started shaking her head and swinging her ponytails.

“Mommy, I don’t like your oatmeal. I only like it when Chef John makes it.”

“Shut up, Aiyanna, and eat the shit before you pay for being grown.” Evan pointed her finger at her.

“I’m not eating that. It always makes me sick. And I haven’t been sick in a while. I don’t want to be sick again.”

Evan trembled and her eyes began to blink repeatedly. She had to be mistaken because certainly Aiyanna wasn’t talking to her like she was the mother and Evan was the child. Maybe Aiyanna needed to be reminded that she wasn’t too young or too old to get her ass kicked. “You working on being fucked up,” she said, grabbing Aiyanna’s face and pressing her fingers deeply into her cheeks. “Do you know what I’ve been going through to prepare this for you?” She took a spoonful of the oatmeal and shoved it into Aiyanna’s parched mouth. “And you have the nerve to tell me what you’re not going to eat? You want me to kick your ass, Aiyanna?!” She shoved oatmeal into her mouth again. “Huh?”

Aiyanna was too scared to cry as the oatmeal that she refused to swallow poured out the sides of her mouth. As Evan went to shove another spoonful into her mouth, the school bus blew its horn. “You’re lucky,” Evan said, squinting into Aiyanna’s eyes, “and unless you want your daddy to leave because you’re being a bad ass and not listening to me, then you better do what the fuck I tell you to. You understand me, little girl?” Aiyanna couldn’t hold it in anymore and her tears rolled over Evan’s knuckles. “You understand me?” Evan repeated.

Aiyanna nodded.

“You better, and if you even think about telling your father, I will beat your ass and make sure he never sees you again.”

“Bridget,” Carl whispered as he secretly filmed Evan, who was so caught up that she hadn’t even heard the camera crew come in, “I don’t like the look of this.”

Bridget smiled. “Shhh, this is a producer’s wet-goddamn-dream. This screams Emmy!”

“But she’s gone too far,” Carl said, obviously distressed.

“You are to film, not play therapist.”

Carl looked taken aback. He knew Bridget liked drama, but this was too much. So instead of verbally intervening he dropped a piece of equipment, forcing Evan to turn around as Bridget stared daggers at him with her eyes.

Evan jumped. “Bridget, Carl”—she nodded and looked at the other guys in the camera crew—“how long have you been standing there?”

“Not long.” Bridget smiled. “Aiyanna’s school bus is outside.”

Evan took a paper towel and wiped Aiyanna’s mouth. “Go!” She kissed her on the cheek and whispered in her ear, “And remember what I told you.”

“M
a,” Jabril said, “why do I have to pull my pants up?”

“Boy, you better pull ’em up,” Jaise said, tight-lipped, as she parked in front of the YMCA, “or I’ma hurt you.” Jabril laughed. “Ma, I’m taller than you.”

“And I will still kick yo’ tall ass,” she said, taking her keys out of her Range Rover ignition. “Now come on.”

As they walked up the block Jabril looked at the building they were headed toward and said, “The YMCA! Oh hell no, my boys can’t see me in here!”

“You cussin’ in my face?”

“I’m sayin’ though.”

“You’re not saying a thing. Now come on.”

As they walked inside Jaise hoped the nervousness she felt didn’t show on her face. She arched her back as her fitted jeans rode her plump behind and the waist of her blue mink jacket rested on her hips. Her thick MAC lip gloss weighed heavy on her lips as she walked up to Bilal and smiled. “My son and I—”

“Holy shit,” Jabril mumbled. “Ma,” he said, tight-lipped, looking at Bilal and realizing who he was, “you tryna set me up?”

“Shut up.” She turned to him and then back to Bilal. “We were invited to an empowerment group, and I came to see who was speaking.”

Bilal smiled and nodded at Jaise. “Really? You came to see who the speaker was going to be?” He looked toward Jabril and held his fist out for a pound. “Wassup?”

“You got it?” Jabril said nervously, then turned to his mother. “Ma, can I speak to you for a minute?”

“Excuse us,” Jaise said. She and Jabril stepped to the side. “Yes.”

“Ma, what’s going on here? You tryna get me arrested? Is this one of those Scared Straight programs or something? You not gon’ leave me here, right?”

“Jabril—”

“Ma, I learned my lesson.”

“Okay, it’s not like that,” Jaise said as she spotted Jay-Z walking onto the stage. Jaise pointed. “This is why I brought you here.”

“Jay-Z?! Dang, Ma, for real?” He looked toward the gym, which was filling with people. A group of young ladies walked past them. “Excuse me”—Jabril popped his collar—“but the honeys are callin’.”

“I bet they are,” Jaise said as she walked back over to Bilal and smiled. “I hope the invitation still stands.”

“It does.”

She looked him over. He was so beautiful that it didn’t make sense. Jaise bit her bottom lip in hopes that she would be able to speak without blushing. “I apologize for the way I acted the last time we saw each other.”

“Apology accepted.”

“I just—”

“Look,” Bilal said, “stop explaining yourself and just be yourself. Now come on”—he took hold of her hand “—let’s go on and enjoy the show.”

Jaise was in heaven watching Jabril throw up his hands and wave them in the air as Jay-Z rapped. It was as if he remembered
he was sixteen and could relax and enjoy himself. There were no worries about what his father was doing or, better yet, not doing. No concerns about Robyn saying something inappropriate or jealous hearted. There were no disturbances at all. Simply a day out chillin’ with his moms.

“Ma!” Jabril said when the concert was over. “That was the truth! Yo that was hot.”

“It was hot, son?”

“Man, please. I just might come back.”

Jaise hugged him tightly and Jabril started coughing. “Ma, please, I can’t breathe.”

She playfully mushed him in the head. “Funny.”

“Ma, you can’t be doin’ all that huggin’ and stuff in public. You never know it might be girls walkin’ around here tryna be my bust-it babies.”

“You better watch your mouth.”

“Psych, I’m just playin’, Ma.”

“You better be,” she said.

Jabril looked at Bilal. “Mr. Asante, you ai’ight for a pig, I mean a jake. I mean, you straight. You seem to be okay is what I’m trying to say.”

“You know we have a basketball league. I’d like to see you try out.”

“Oh no, no sports,” Jaise interrupted. “I have seen my share of athletes go down the drain.”

“Well, something tells me Jabril just may be different.” Bilal smiled at Jaise.

“Exactly, I’m glad somebody recognized,” Jabril said as a group of girls walked by. “Excuse me.”

Jaise couldn’t help but smile. “This was fun,” she said after they had found themselves talking about everything under the sun. Jaise couldn’t remember when she had been so turned on simply by the words coming out of a man’s mouth. “I would like to see
you again,” she said to Bilal, slyly pinching herself to make sure she wasn’t sleeping.

“Yeah?” He gave her a sexy grin. “I would love to see you again.”

“Really?” Jaise giggled like a schoolgirl. She knew this was a bold move, but seeing that no one was around she mustered up the nerve to try it. Jaise placed her arms around Bilal’s neck and kissed him, and he responded with a gracious and soul-stirring kiss that sent chills, sweet dreams, and sparks through her. The kiss was so intense that Jaise found herself tossing her head back into the palm of his hands as he ran his fingertips through her hair. Breaking their kiss, Jaise said, “Why don’t you stop by later?”

“Nah, not yet.” He smiled.

Jaise couldn’t believe it, an obvious invitation to pussy and here he was turning it down. “And … why not…?” She hated to ask but she needed to know.

“Because I would like us to see where this is going first, before I start coming by your house after a certain time at night.”

“And how are we supposed to know where this is going?”

“We’ll feel it.” He kissed her again.

Jaise stared at him. She thought for sure the last man like this was dead. “Good-night.” He kissed her on the forehead.

“Good-night,” she said, doing her best to keep her legs from buckling as she walked toward the exit. Jabril was standing outside. Once she got to the door she realized Bilal was standing there watching her. She turned to wave bye and threw every ounce of motion into her ocean. When she arrived at her car, she and Jabril slid in and Jaise leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Please,” she whispered to herself, “let him be the one.”

C
haunci’s posh Times Square office had the perfect view of a
Millionaire Wives Club
billboard with a picture of her standing beside Milan, rocking a fierce wide-brim hat with attitude to match. The picture had been taken before the show began taping, and she wondered if the photograph were to be taken now, would they each smile?

Chaunci’s Prada heels clicked as she walked across the tiled floor, decked out in her Norma Kamali teal power suit. She smiled for the camera as they taped her at the office.

“Good morning, everyone,” she greeted her staff and sat down at the head of the conference table in her oversized black wing chair. The straight skirt she wore rose slightly up her thigh as she crossed her legs and undid the three buttons down the middle of her suit jacket.

“I would like to discuss a few things for our upcoming issues. I’ve been thinking about adding a book review section. Any thoughts?”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Jeneen, one of the staff writers, commented, leading a few of her colleagues to join the discussion.

Chaunci could hear them chatting away, but her mind started to drift as thoughts of Idris distracted her.

Doing her best to refocus on her meeting, Chaunci joined in the discussion with her staff. They moved on from the book review idea to the upcoming cover choices. Once they were all done Chaunci smiled and said, “Thanks, everyone, we’ll meet again next week.” As she walked out of the conference room her secretary said to her, “You have a stack of mail on your desk, a certified delivery that came a few moments ago, and a special delivery that’s waiting for you as soon as you walk into your office.”

“Thanks, Danielle,” Chaunci said, pushing the double doors to her office open to reveal an array of red and white fully bloomed roses that were set out all over her office. A smile lit up Chaunci’s face. She couldn’t believe it. She loved flowers. She just didn’t know who they were from. She looked up at Bridget, who said, “Is this from the mystery man?”

Chaunci ignored her and read the card: “I’m sorry. Love you and miss you, Edmon.”

Chaunci blushed, sat down at her desk, and began sorting through her mail. She noticed that the certified letter was from Manhattan Family Court. Anxiously she tore the envelope open. Her heart pounded as her eyes scanned the letter: a court hearing … Idris…asking for visitation.

Chaunci couldn’t believe it. She wanted to cuss and scream, but she couldn’t get the words to come out. Instead tears rolled down her face as the letter slid to the floor. She could hear Bridget gasp as she picked up the letter and read it, but at the moment there was nothing Chaunci could do. She was paralyzed and couldn’t move.

“W
here are you going dressed like that?” Jabril said as he walked into his mother’s room without knocking and sat on the edge of her bed. “What kinda clothes are those?”

Jaise stood back and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She wore a fitted chocolate Yves Saint Laurent halter dress with a V that dipped down the front, showcasing her abundance of cleavage, and caressed her hips like a second layer of skin. The bottom of the dress had two splits on the sides, showing off her Tina Turner legs, and her stiletto heels enhanced her heart-shaped bottom. “I thought I looked nice.”

“You look ai’ight”—he waved his right hand from side to side—“but, for real, for real, Ma, you like thirty-five years old and you don’t need to be dressing like you’re young and everything. All of that you got hanging out,” he said, pointing to her cleavage, “that isn’t necessary. And where are you going anyway? On a date?”

“Yes, is that okay?”

“I hope it’s not Trenton.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Oh, well, I guess maybe you can go then. But, then again, who are you going with?”

“Bilal.”

“The cop?”

“Yes.”

“Where is he taking you?”

“Out to dinner. Wait a minute.” Jaise caught herself. “Why do I have to explain this to you, and why are you asking me so many questions?”

“Just asking.” Jabril folded his arms across his chest. “Can you bring me back something to eat?”

“I’m not coming back right away.”

“That’s cool, just bring it back in like an hour.”

“Jabril—” Before Jaise could go on, her doorbell rang, and the nerves in her body settled in her stomach. “Oh, goodness,” she said, looking at herself in the mirror again, “how do I look?”

“Well, personally, I think you need to put on a blouse underneath that dress.”

She waved her hand. “Never mind, just get the door.”

Jabril grumbled, “I have to wait for my food
and
answer the door. Just treat me like a slave.”

“Shut up,” Jaise said, popping a peppermint in her mouth, “and do what I just told you to do.”

Jaise took a series of deep breaths as Jabril opened the door. When she heard Bilal asking Jabril how he’d been, she walked out of her room and made a grand entrance at the top of the stairs. No matter what Jabril said, she knew she looked fabulous and her confirmation was Bilal stopping mid-sentence and stroking his chin. He was dressed to the nines in a gray Armani evening suit and square-toed wing tips.