Nobody's Girl (15 page)

–Drake, “Connect”

 

Weeks had gone by and Farrah had barely spoken to or heard from Mills and she liked it that way. Being away from him gave her the opportunity to begin to see everything clearly. During her time alone she realized that being without Mills wasn't so bad after all. When he wasn't around, her life ran smoothly. There was no drama, lies, or deceit. She could breathe easier and wasn't met with a new set of tears everyday.

But the devil always likes to attack when one is comfortable. For Farrah, it was another regular day. That morning she'd gotten a lot done at work. Now it was time for lunch. Her stomach was growling louder than a tiger. She couldn't make it out of the building and to her car fast enough. To her dismay, when she got there none other than Mills was standing by her car, waiting for her.

In an instant her entire body became heavy and weighed down with sadness, anger, and nervousness. It was sad that one human being could make her feel so many different emotions and all at once. A part of her wanted to run back inside the building or run out into the middle of the street and get hit by a car. Either option sounded better than having a conversation with Mills. Whatever he wanted was sure to bring her nothing but misery.

Feeling trapped, Farrah stood still. She felt like Tina Turner in
What's Love Got to Do with It
when Ike Turner found her at the bus station. There, in the middle of the parking lot Farrah held her vintage Gucci bag in her hand and stared at Mills with despair in her eyes. She wished she could love him the way she used to, but she couldn't pretend that what lay underneath his mesmerizing good looks and designer duds was a manipulative man. With the weight of the world on her shoulders, Farrah slowly walked over to her car.

“You look pretty,” Mills said, captivated by her presence.

Farrah looked effortlessly chic with her hair up in a bun. She rocked an oversized pair of black shades. M.A.C Candy Yum-Yum lipstick shined bright from her luscious lips. A pair of white chandelier earrings, gray Thayer blazer with the sleeves pushed up, white V-neck T-shirt, white skinny-leg jeans with a zipper at the ankle, and silver Gucci pointed toe pumps made up her outfit.

“What is it, Mills?” Farrah replied, not in the mood for pleasantries.

“I got a surprise for you.”

“Whatever it is I don't want it,” Farrah said, honestly.

“Yes, you do,” Mills assured.

“Look, I'm about to go.” She tried to push him out of her way so she could open her car door.

“Only place you're going is with me,” Mills insisted.

“Why are you so damn hardheaded?” Farrah furrowed her brows, agitated.

“Let me show you what I got for you. I promise you won't be disappointed.”

Farrah sighed and rolled her eyes.

“C'mon, please let me do this for you,” Mills pleaded, not taking
no
for an answer.

“I don't know, Mills.” Farrah tried to stand her ground.

“Quit actin' like you don't love me.” He pulled her into him and hugged her.

“I don't,” Farrah shot, while trying to squirm away from his embrace.

“You can't even lie good. Now come on.” Mills took her by the hand and led her over to his car.

“You know I could get you locked up for kidnapping, right? 'Cause I'm clearly resisting.” She dragged her feet.

“Do you ever hush?”Mills asked, opening the passenger-side door.

Almost an hour went by before they reached the destination. Farrah was outraged. She'd missed lunch and an appointment because of Mills. Now in a very pissed-off mood, Farrah sat staring blankly at her surprise. It was the house she'd been raving about for months. The home she wanted to start their life as man and wife in. The house she'd envisioned raising their children in and growing old in.

It was an architecturally award-winning 8-million-dollar mansion. It was a home that even James Bond would envy. The approximately 5,800 square foot, two-level home was divided into two adjoining structures connected by a glass-enclosed bridge, which overlooked an expansive lake view. Part one of the house held impressive entertaining areas: dining, kitchen, living, as well as the master suite. Part two of the home held three guest suites, an office, and garage. The setting was serene, secluded, and lush. The backyard was beautiful, flat, and landscaped for privacy on over half an acre, with ample room for entertaining.

The house was everything Farrah wanted and more, but as she sat looking at her dream home her stomach began to churn. The mere sight of it made her want to puke. Because of Mills's lies and infidelity the house was now tainted.

“Surprise!” Mills shouted, wondering why she looked so unenthused. “I bought the house. It's ours now.”

“You mean it's yours now,” Farrah countered. “I'm not living here.”

“What you mean? I just bought this for us. You're my wife. Where else you gon' stay?” Mills shot her a look that could kill.

“Where I've been staying. My apartment.”

“So you don't have any plans on coming home?” Mills shot her an angry look.

“Not unless you plan on not living in it.” Farrah shook her head.

Mills inhaled deep and tried his hardest not to strangle her.

“C'mon, Farrah. We gotta get past all this.” He slumped back in his seat.

“You're right, but I'm not ready. There is still a lot I have to think about.”

“Well, can you at least get out and look at it?”

“I guess,” Farrah responded, mentally exhausted.

Once she got out of the car she looked up at the massive home. There was no denying her dream home's beauty.
Why did Mills have to go and fuck everything up
? she wondered.

“Farrah, you remember Karen the Realtor?” Mills acknowledged the two women.

“Yes, how are you?” Farrah extended her hand for a shake.

“Congratulations! You got your dream home,” Karen said, smiling and shaking her hand.

“Karen, can you give me and Farrah a minute, please?” Mills asked.

“Sure.” Karen stepped off to the side.

“You can't pretend like you're not happy,” Mills said to Farrah.

“The gesture is nice, but it doesn't change anything between me and you,” Farrah confessed.

“I get that, but I bought the house 'cause I wanted you to see how serious I am about making this work. I am dedicated to you and this marriage. We can make this work, babe. You just have to meet me halfway,” Mills begged, taking her hands in his and carressing them.

“I don't know what you want from me,” Farrah sighed, pulling her hands from his and massaging her temples.

“I want you to love me like you used to,” Mills said, with his whole heart.

Before Farrah could even think of a response her cell phone started to ring. She was stunned to see that it was J.R. calling. She paused for a second, not sure if she should answer his call or let it go to voice mail. She let it ring a few more times before coming to a decision.

“Let me take this call real quick.” Farrah walked off. “Hello?” She spoke in a low tone.

“I know I'm on the restricted list, but I just wanted to see what was up wit' you, li'l lady,” J.R. said in a cool tone.

“Nothin' much, stalker,” Farrah giggled. “You just won't stay away.”

“How can I? I miss you.”

A smile unintentionally crept onto Farrah's face. She didn't understand what it was about this man that could make her smile so easily.

“That's nice to know.” She tried to play it cool.

“I wanna see you.”

“That's not possible.”

“It can be, if you get on the flight I booked for you to L.A.,” J.R. countered.

“You bold,” Farrah scoffed. “You just know I'm gonna agree to go see you, huh?” she chuckled.

“You know you wanna see me,” J.R. said in a low, sexy tone.

Farrah paused and thought for a second. “Maybe,” she replied.

“Maybe yes, maybe no?” J.R. flirted.

“Maybe you need to stop flirting with me. How about that?”

“Or maybe you need to stop frontin' and admit you wann see me. '
Cuz your mind's telling you noooo, but your body's telling you yeeesss.
” J.R. tried singing that classic line from R. Kelly's “Bump n' Grind”.

“Oh my God, you tryin'a to kill me with your singing? Now I know why you stick to just rapping!” Farrah exclaimed, not able to stop herself from laughing.

“You know you liked it,” J.R. said jokingly. “So are you coming to see your boo?”

“Boy, bye!” Farrah quickly hung up the phone before he had a chance to say anything else. She had to admit, she needed that laugh.

Farrah walked back over toward Mills, not feeling as angry as before, but the second she saw him, the previous emotions came right back.

“Who was that?” he asked with a sour look on his face.

“Damn,” Farrah put her phone back inside her purse. “You're being very nosy. It was a business call, if you must know.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mills replied, as he eyed her suspiciously, not believing her.

“This was nice, but can you take me back to my office? I have work I have to take care of.”

“So just fuck the house? You don't give a shit about that, huh?” His nostrils flared.

“What do you want me to do, Mills?” Farrah threw up her arms in distress. “You think 'cause you bought this house that was gonna make things better? That I was gonna come running back into your arms?” She placed her hands on her hips.

“This house does not take away the fact that you have a child with someone else. What's your plan? Your baby just gonna come over and play in the yard? We gonna laugh and smile and be one happy family?” she asked, sarcastically.

“In time, yes,” Mills said, bewildered.

“Mills,” Farrah closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “It will take for Biggie to rise up from the dead and Jennifer Hudson to get fat again for that to shit happen.”

“Wow,” Mills responded, stunned. “You really ain't feeling me anymore?”

“It's not that I don't care about you. I'm just fed up with the bullshit and in all honesty I really feel that we just need to be separated for a while.”

“But we're already separated! How much more of a separation can we possibly have?” Mills exclaimed.

“We're separated, but you're still not giving me my space. Stop pushing yourself on me.”

“Is that really what you want?” Mills asked, devastated.

Farrah swallowed hard as she walked toward the front door. “Can you please drive us back to my office, Mills? I really need to get back to work,” she said as she walked out of the house.

“I'm not taking you anywhere until you answer the question, Farrah,” Mills said with conviction.

“Fine. I'll call a taxi then.” With that, Farrah began walking down the driveway while she called a cab on her phone.

“Farrah, wait,” Mills yelled out as he ran out after her. “I'll bring you back to your office.”

“No, thanks. I'm good,” she replied.

 

 

Once Farrah was dropped off in front of her office building, she ran back inside to tie up some loose ends and then she raced back outside and hopped into her car. Minutes later she was home and packing up her things as fast as she could. Clothes, shoes, jewelry, and handbags were tossed left and right. If she was going to L.A. to see J.R. she couldn't go looking like a slouch. She had to rock the best of the best outfits.

After finding both day and night looks, she started to go through her massive shoe collection. She would take her Givenchy lace-up heels, Aldo dalmatian slippers, Alaïa cut heels, and more. As she tossed the fab heels into her luggage, she went through everything she'd thrown in there and felt satisfied with what she planned on taking. She rushed into the bathroom to get a quick shower before heading out. There was no way she would board a plane to see J.R. and not make sure she was smelling and looking fresh. Out of habit, Farrah started taking all her jewelry off. As she hurriedly placed her jewelry in the crystal bowl she kept on the sink specifically for that purpose, she saw her wedding rings slip out of the bowl, drop to the floor, and slide across the bathroom. Swiftly, Farrah raced across the room and picked it up. As she put them in her hand, she looked down at them and was reminded of Mills and the vows they made before God.

What am I doing?
Farrah thought. Deflated by memories of her wedding day, Farrah sat on the side of her bed. She couldn't run off to L.A. to see J.R. like she was some single woman. She was married and although she'd told Mills she wanted a separation, it still wouldn't be right to spend time with another man. Yes, she was angry and felt betrayed by Mills, but what good would it do for her to turn around and do the same to him? And as much as she tried to act like they didn't, his feelings still mattered to her. She couldn't and wouldn't play him out. He was her husband and she owed him the decency of respecting that title until it was no longer valid. Reluctantly, Farrah picked up her cell phone and called J.R.

“What up, ladybug? Are you on your way to the airport?”

“Hey,” she said, softly.

“What's wrong?” J.R. asked, hearing a twinge of sadness in her voice.

“Umm . . . I'm not going to be able to come.”