Read Millionaire Wives Club Online
Authors: Tu-Shonda Whitaker
Millionaire Wives Club (34 page)
“We weren’t friends,” Milan sneered, “so you shouldn’t have shit to lower to me.”
“Well, I do.” Jaise pointed her finger. “’Cause seriously, I wanna kick your fuckin’ ass.”
Milan crossed her legs and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Air and opportunity,” she said, and looked Jaise directly in the face, “is all that lies between us.”
“And about three more months!” Bridget yelled, as she walked onto the stage. “Save that for next season. Do you know how high the ratings will turn out to be, please put that ass-kickin’ on pause, until the new contracts are signed.”
Jaise rolled her eyes at Bridget and continued on, “Milan, you are the reason that Evan killed herself. Yo’ ass!” She pointed.
“Evan killed herself because of her own demons,” Chaunci said, getting into the argument.
“Milan fucked her husband!” Jaise shouted.
“No.” Milan sneered again. “The day she decided to put another man’s baby on him, is the day she fucked him better than I ever could.”
“How dare you?!” Jaise shouted.
“Let me tell you something,” Milan said, “I’m not saying that I was right, but I am not responsible for Evan losing her mind. For once in my life I didn’t give a damn what anybody else thought or what anybody else wanted. I allowed myself to love and to be in love with my best friend. And no, I didn’t give a damn that he had a wife, and yes, I made love to him… good love to him; several times. But I will not apologize for it.”
“Wait a minute, Milan,” Chaunci said. “Now, you’re my girl, but right is right but wrong is what you are.”
“I loved him!”
“He was married,” Chaunci said.
“Thank you,” Jaise interjected.
“You act as if we are still together.”
“Well,” Don said, “that brings us to our next question.” He turned to Milan. “Janice, from Murfreesboro, North Carolina, wants to know ‘Are you and Kendu still an item?’”
Milan swallowed. “Kendu and I are friends and that’s all either of us can handle right now. He’s in the process of adopting Aiyanna; that’s his focus and I am my own focus.”
“This is such bullshit,” Jaise snapped. “All of a sudden you are the poster child for getting your shit together? Please, you are a home-wrecking tramp. You tore this family up, and now you act as if you are proud of the shit?” Jaise started clapping. “As a matter of fact, why don’t you give yourself a hand. Evan is dead and you’ve won.”
“Wait a minute.” Chaunci jumped in. “Don’t be trying to come at her as if she’s responsible for Evan getting out of jail on bail,
overdosing on pills, and getting the bright idea to swim out to sea. Did you forget she was poisoning her daughter?”
“Thank you,” Milan said, and clapped. “Does Münchausen syndrome by proxy ring bells for you? Aiyanna wasn’t sick. Evan was feeding her damn Pine-Sol and bleach and all sorts of shit. Are you kidding me? And you want to blame me for that?” Milan pointed to her chest.
“Yes, she was wrong,” Jaise said, “but she needed a friend, she needed help, not for her husband to have a mistress.”
“Speaking of Aiyanna,” Don said, “where is she?”
“At home,” Milan answered, “with her father, Kendu.”
“Speaking of fathers,” Don said, “how’s Idris, Chaunci?”
“He’s fine.” She blushed.
“Are you two an item?”
“No, but we haven’t closed the door on being an item, Don.” She chuckled.
“And Edmon?” Don pried. “What ever happened with your magazine?”
“He sold me his interest. We ended up parting like adults.”
“Do you think you’ll ever get back together?”
“No, but maybe one day we can be friends again.”
“You two are really fuckin’ selfish,” Jaise snapped. “Like your love life is so important.”
“Well, everyone can’t be perfect,” Milan said.
“When you invest in your own man then you’ll find out how perfect life can be.”
“Boorring!” Bridget said. “Listen, on to something people want to hear about. I would like to introduce you to Yusef ‘Da Truef’ Sparks.”
Yusef walked out onstage wearing a white unitard and knee-high wrestling boots. He sat next to Bridget. “I told you I was coming back, Milan,” he said, “but you didn’t believe me.”
“Yusef will be starring in his own reality show,
Da Truef: A Wrestler’s Story.”
“This is too much for me.” Jaise sighed. “Nobody cares that Evan isn’t here?”
“Yes, Jaise,” Milan said, “believe it or not, I care.”
“We all care,” Chaunci said, “but we’re all different, and I guess that’s what makes—”
“The show a success,” Bridget cut in. “We don’t have time for sappy shit. Forgive each other when the commercial comes on.” Bridget stood up. “Be sure to join us next season when we bring our new housewife on: lottery winner Al-Taniesha!”
Al-Taniesha stepped onto the stage and paraded back and forth like a pageant winner in a full-length red rabbit coat. “Y’all ain’t seen shit. I ain’t nothin’ like these bougie bitches.” She snapped her fingers. “So be sure to look out for me and my baby, Rafique.”
Rafique joined her onstage wearing a hot pink three-piece suit. “It’s Lollipop!”
Bridget stood up and said to the camera, “Be sure to join us next time for a new season of
Millionaire Wives Club!”
“Milan,” Bridget could be heard saying as the cameras faded to black, “get your shit. We just canceled your broke ass for next season.”
To My Father, who is the God of Abraham, the God of Daniel, and the God of the three Hebrew boys, I say thank You for continuing to love me despite myself, and thank You for Your grace and Your mercy, for it is sufficient.
To all of my ancestral African American authors who wrote when it was illegal, who wrote because they had something to say, and who wrote because the voice in their hearts and in their heads said to do so, I say thank you, because without you who knows where my stories or I would be.
To my mother and father, who love me unconditionally, thank you for all that you do … oh, and my children thank you, too.
To my husband, who is grilling the barbeque chicken I want right now, although it’s nine o’clock at night, thank you, my love, for you are truly the best.
To my children, Taylor, Sydney, and Zion, whom I love and spoil soooooo much, you are my life!
To my family, my grandma, my aunties, my uncles, and my cousins, I love you dearly! To my in-laws in Siparia, Trinidad, W.I., thanks for your support!
To my “little” cousin Malik (the best artist in the world), although it is almost twenty years later, I promise to never tell your mother your secret. You know, the one where you had me call your school and tell them you had an emergency, and needed to leave right away. That will forever be between us.
To my church family at Philemon Missionary Baptist Church, thank you for all of your support. I love you and many blessings!
To my Ballantine/One World family, thank you all for everything seen and unseen that you do. Melody, thank you for your patience and your faith in my ability. You guys are amazing!
To my agent, Sara Camilli, thank you so much for everything!
To my friends, you are all so special to me, I don’t know what I would do without you. Thanks for being there.
To my best friend in the world, Kenya Williams, thanks for all the laughs, the times we cut up, even the times we’ve cried. Thank you my sistah, for you are truly a best friend!
To my friend Dywane Birch, stay exactly as you are, my brother.
To K’wan and Keisha, one day we will get all the money we’re supposed to.
To my homegirls: Nakea, Tiffany, Danielle, Keisha, and Adrianne, who all love reality TV like me, I wrote this one for you!
To my crew at work: Cynthia, Diane, Terry, Tanya, Angel, Shannon, Maurice, Natasha, Marcia, Tamika (although you have a new crew—LOL), and to the one who walks past my office every day and calls me “Spring,” Shafequah and to all of my co-workers who I talk, laugh, and work hard with, thanks for your conversations, for making me laugh, and most of all thanks for your support! You’ll never know how much it means.
Saving the best for last: the fans, readers, bookstores, websites, and message boards, thank you so much for your support in all of my literary ventures. I have some very dedicated readers who have been riding with me from the beginning, you know who you are, thank you, thank you, thank you.
Be sure to email me at
[email protected]
and let me know your thoughts. Oh, and check out me and my girls on Three Chicks On Lit every Wednesday at seven on
www.blogtalkradio.com/chicksonlit
.
And now without further ado I say to you, “Turn the page and let’s do the damn thing!”
Love ya!
Tu-Shonda
T
U
-S
HONDA
L. W
HITAKER
is the
Essence
bestselling author of
The Ex Factor, Flip Side of the Game
, and
Game Over
. She received the Ella Baker and W. E. B. Dubois International Award for fiction writing. She lives in New Jersey with her husband, two daughters, and son. Visit her on Facebook, MySpace, and Twitter.
M
ILLIONAIRE
W
IVES
C
LUB
is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination
or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales,
or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A One World Books Trade Paperback Original
Copyright © 2009 by Tu-Shonda Whitaker
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by One World Books,
an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group,
a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
O
NE
W
ORLD
is a registered trademark and the One World
colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Whitaker, Tu-Shonda L.
Millionaire wives club : a novel / Tu-Shonda L. Whitaker.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-345-51723-4
1. African American women—Fiction. 2. Reality television
programs—Fiction. 3. Rich people—Fiction. 4. Man-woman
relationships—Fiction. 5. African American families—Fiction.
6. Domestic fiction. I. Title.
PS3623.H563M55 2009
813′.54—dc22 2009035731
v3.0