“Yuri! Your dad’s here,” Vangie called out.
“Okay,” Yuri shouted from his bedroom.
Vangie returned her attention to Jojina. Though the woman was much prettier than she’d realized, she dressed like a complete slut with her hooker heels and skin-tight jeans. Vangie’s eyes settled on Jojina’s Louis Vuitton Artsy bag. Being a Louis expert, she concluded that the bag was the real deal, and wondered if Shawn had purchased it. Though Vangie had an impressive collection of Louis Vuitton bags, she still felt a stab of envy over the idea of Shawn buying this tramp such an expensive gift.
Vangie gave Jojina another long look of disdain, and then started to close the door.
“Can we talk?” Jojina suddenly asked, running her zebra-print nails through her long, wavy weave. The weave had the nerve to look really nice, and the hair was a good quality. This fucking bitch is living good off my tax dollars! Apparently welfare checks covered the cost of cosmetic surgery, fancy manicures, and expensive hairstyles. Vangie would have never considered receiving welfare, but maybe she had it all wrong; maybe she was a sucker for going out and earning a honest living.
Vangie turned her nose up. “We don’t have anything to talk about. Oh, hold up, on second thought, we do need to get a few things straight. First of all, do you realize your sons troll the Internet looking at guns? You need to monitor their computer time when Yuri is at your house. Secondly—”
“What about your man?” Shawn butted in. “He’s showing Yuri the real thing…that nigga put a gun in my boy’s hand, and you think that’s okay?”
“No, it’s not. But since Alphonso is out of the country on business, I haven’t had a chance to speak to him about it.”
“Yeah, well, let dude know that I think he’s a bad role model and I need to holla at him regarding my son.”
Vangie winced. Hearing Alphonso referred to as a bad role model was disconcerting, but until she heard his explanation, she didn’t want to think about the gun situation.
“Shawn told me you don’t want Yuri around my brother,” Jojina said.
Vangie planted a hand on her hip. “I sure don’t. When Yuri visits Shawn, I expect him to be cared for by his father—not some wild teenager that I’ve never met.”
Jojina nodded in understanding. “Man-Man was wrong. He shouldn’t have put Yuri in that video. I just want you to know that I made him take the video down, and it won’t happen again.”
“It better not!” Vangie said, indifferent to Jojina’s attempt at cooperativeness. “I don’t want my son around criminal-minded thugs.”
Jojina’s brows drew together, suggesting she was offended. “My brother’s not a criminal.”
“Oh, please,” Vangie muttered, rolling her eyes.
Jojina’s gaze flickered upward to Shawn, imploring him to say something. Shawn placed an arm around her and glared at Vangie. “There you go, stereotyping your own people,” he said, shaking his head.
“I call it like I see it.” Vangie was unapologetic. Though Jojina had extended an olive branch, Vangie refused to accept it. The ghetto tramp had a lot of nerve coming to her door. She needed to stay in her place and keep her big butt inside the car. Vangie was about to express her feelings about Jojina showing up at her apartment, uninvited, when Yuri came barreling into the living room. He was struggling with his overly stuffed duffle bag, but his eyes were alight with joy as he raced toward his father, his small body awkwardly pulled to one side.
“Hey, Dad! Hi, Jojina!” he said with a big smile.
“Hey, what’s up, Son?” Shawn relieved Yuri of his heavy bag and Yuri straightened upright. Jojina beamed at Yuri and affectionately tousled his hair. Vangie wanted to smack Jojina’s hands away from her son’s head, but when Yuri smiled up at the woman, Vangie realized he’d be upset if she cursed out his father’s girlfriend.
“Your brothers and sister are in the car,” Jojina told Yuri.
Is this bitch serious? “Yuri doesn’t have any siblings,” Vangie pointed out.
“Yes, I do. I have two brothers and a sister,” Yuri insisted, wearing a hurt expression.
“Your father and I only have one child—you!”
“Your brothers and sister are waiting in the car,” Jojina said, glancing at Vangie challengingly as she stroked Yuri’s cheek.
Seething, Vangie glared at Jojina. “Get your hand off my son’s face and stop telling him those lies.”
“Mom, don’t be mean to Jojina,” Yuri pleaded.
“Shawn, you better talk to this chick,” Vangie said threateningly. “She’s taking too many liberties with my child.”
“I think of Yuri as my fourth child,” Jojina explained in a fake, sugary voice.
Vangie wanted to slap her. “Yuri’s not your fourth child! And let me tell you something else…you need to stop trying to act like y’all are one big, happy family because you’re not. You’re nothing more than an extended booty call…believe that! I know Shawn, and he’ll be on to the next one in a few months!”
“You can’t speak for me,” Shawn interjected. “Come on, let’s go.” He steered Jojina and Yuri away from the door. Vangie watched with bitter resentment as Shawn and Jojina walked along the corridor with Yuri between them. When Jojina reached for Yuri’s hand, it took all of Vangie’s willpower not to run behind them and punch the bitch in the back of her head. It took every ounce of restraint not to snatch Yuri’s hand out of the grasp of that trifling, unemployed, welfare-fraudulent ho.
Jojina had a lot of game, but Vangie could see through her façade. Underneath Jojina’s seemingly sweet surface was a ruthless chick, and she was pretending to love Yuri simply to get her hooks deeper into Shawn. Claiming another woman’s son as her own was insulting as hell, and Vangie wondered why Shawn wasn’t calling Jojina out on bullshit. That project pussy must be the bomb. I know one thing, I’m going to hire a new lawyer—someone who can do a better job of keeping my child away from that conniving bitch and her ghetto-ass family.
Vangie closed the door and immediately called Alphonso. She got his voicemail again. She realized he was busy and all, handling the opening of the London office, but couldn’t he at least have called her to let her know that he’d arrived safely? She doubted if Drake treated Harlow with such a lack of regard.
Compared to most men, Alphonso was quite a catch. He was very generous, showering Vangie with expensive gifts, and he always showed her a good time when he was in town. But their relationship wasn’t evolving the way she’d hoped. They were no closer to picking out rings than they were when they’d first met. Harlow had advised Vangie not to try to rush Alphonso to the altar. He was a confirmed bachelor, and if Vangie wanted him to take their relationship to the next level, she would have to be patient. But all this pretending that she was content with the unlabeled status of their relationship was starting to get her down.
She knew Alphonso carried a gun, but she’d never seen it. Frankly, she was uncomfortable about bringing up the subject. But what choice did she have? When it came to Yuri, Vangie became as protective as a mother lion. Alphonso was dead wrong; he should not have allowed Yuri to touch a gun. What the hell was he thinking?
She thought about calling Harlow to get her opinion, but nixed the idea. She and Harlow used to share intimate stories about their relationships with Drake and Alphonso, but ever since the two men had become business partners, Harlow had become tight-lipped, as if afraid of allowing some kind of top-secret information to slip out.
And with Harlow desperately trying to get pregnant, her entire conversation revolved around pregnancy and baby-related themes. Harlow was still her girl and everything, but she’d be glad when she got back to being her old self. The baby-obsessed Harlow was…well, there was no way to put it nicely—Harlow had become boring.
Maybe she could talk to Nivea. Well, not about Alphonso and the gun. Nivea was so damned opinionated and Vangie suspected Nivea was secretly envious that she’d snagged Alphonso. Nivea used to sarcastically refer to Alphonso
as “the bodyguard,” but now that he and Drake were partners, she didn’t seem interested in talking about Alphonso at all.
Vangie wondered if Nivea had gotten Mackenzie’s paternity test back. She shook her head about the whole paternity disaster. Nivea swore that her daughter had been fathered by Knox, but any fool could see that the child was mixed. Nivea needed to leave her sister’s husband alone and go after the real father—whoever he was.
It was a damn shame that after being faithful and true to Alphonso, she couldn’t even get a phone call when he was out of town.
It was time to break it off with Alphonso. Fuck the gifts and the fancy dinners and trips. She should hold him to the same standards that she’d held Yuri’s dad. Back when she and Shawn were together, and when he’d made it clear that he expected all the perks of family life, minus the marriage certificate, Vangie had ended the relationship.
But for some reason, she was hanging on to Alphonso. In the back of her mind, she held the hope that with patience and understanding, she could change his outlook on matrimony. She had to change his mind. Where would she find another catch like Alphonso? He was an affluent businessman and extremely generous. Marriage to him assured her of financial security and a luxurious lifestyle like Harlow had. She didn’t consider herself as a gold digger, but like anybody else, she desired the finer things in life.
She imagined Alphonso carrying her over the threshold of a dream house. She didn’t expect a mansion or anything; she simply wanted a comfortable and spacious home in a good neighborhood. She could see herself as a stay-at-home mom, carpooling Yuri to his sports events and other extracurricular activities. And of course, she’d have Alphonso’s baby. She’d try to get a bun in the oven soon after they walked down the aisle. A rich man’s baby was sort of an insurance policy…in case the marriage didn’t work out.
Unfortunately, the odds of her acquiring the lifestyle she yearned for were as remote and farfetched as hitting the Mega Millions lottery.
Vangie would be thirty on her next birthday and was no closer to the altar than when she’d first met Alphonso at Harlow’s wedding. What was it about her that caused her to always attract commitment-phobes?
Feeling sorry for herself, Vangie slumped into a chair. She checked the time. It was barely past nine in the morning, and the remainder of her weekend was free, but instead of feeling relieved and joyful, she felt neglected and lonely. While other single women her age were either at the hair salon getting glammed up for a hot date or going to the mall to buy a sexy outfit, Vangie was home alone without any plans. She could use the spa day that Harlow had offered, but her heart wasn’t in it. At this point, the only thing that would put a smile on her face would be getting the green light to start planning a wedding. She wanted to look at gowns, taste test samples of cake, search for a wedding venue, and set up a bridal registry. She wanted to do all those activities with an indulgent, groom-to-be in tow.
But it wasn’t going to happen. She was going to end up gray-haired and old and alone.
Maybe she should take Harlow up on her invitation. A girls’ night out would help her forget her problems. Trouble was, being around happily-married Harlow was a glaring reminder of her permanently single status.
Vangie and Harlow were worlds apart. Harlow had it all. She was a pampered lady of leisure with a wealthy husband who adored her, while Vangie was a working, single mom in an uncommitted relationship. Even worse, she had to put up with ghetto drama from an irritating baby daddy and his conniving, project chick.
Harlow had no idea that Vangie was growing more bitter by the day, and she didn’t need to know. Despite her luxurious lifestyle, Harlow was the same down-to-earth person she’d always been. It was Vangie who had changed. Though she tried to fight her emotions, she couldn’t help feeling resentful of dear, sweet Harlow. Jealousy was an ugly emotion and she wished she could cut it out of her heart.
She glanced at her silent phone. It would be nice if Alphonso called and checked on her, but their relationship was what it was. He probably wouldn’t call until he was back in the States. Being someone’s occasional lover and special friend really sucked. It was demoralizing, but she’d invested a lot of time in their “special friendship” and wasn’t willing to throw in the towel.
Maybe she should reconsider visiting Harlow. If she confided her awful dilemma, perhaps the two of them could put their heads together and come up with a scheme that would motivate Alphonso to hurry up and pop the damn question.
Feeling hopeful, Vangie picked up the phone and called Harlow. “Hey, girl. Is the invitation still open?”
“Of course. You’re always welcome, Vangie. You know that,” Harlow replied.
“Okay, I’ll catch an afternoon train and get a cab to your place.”
“Fantastic. I’m so excited. Wanna see a Broadway show?”
“Sure.”
“I’ve heard good things about Motown: The Musical, Wicked, and Kinky Boots. Which would you like to see?”
“Surprise me, okay?”
“All right. See you soon.”
In her bedroom, Vangie opened her closet and pulled out her Louis Vuitton duffle bag. She’d trade in all her designer bags, her red bottom shoes—everything he’d bought for her—if only she could have his heart.
HARLOW
“Did you enjoy the play?” Harlow asked Vangie as they merged into the crowd of people exiting the theater.
“It was all right,” Vangie said, unenthused about Motown: The Musical. “The chick playing Diana Ross got on my nerves.”
“Really? Why?”
“She seemed to be overacting. And she didn’t look or sound anything like the real Diana Ross.”
“I thought she was good.”
“Umph.” Nivea twisted her lips, conveying her dissatisfaction.
“What’s going on with you, girl? You’re so grumpy and irritated, lately.”
Vangie gave a little shrug. “I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not. Let’s get something to eat and something good to drink. I have to get all my drinking in before I get pregnant,” Harlow said with a smile that quickly vanished when she noticed Vangie’s gaze shifting downward. She wondered if Vangie assumed that she couldn’t have kids and was embarrassed for her.
Outside the theater, Harlow aggressively hailed a cab, stepping in front of several patrons of the theater who were also trying to get a cab. The two women slid into the backseat and Harlow gave the driver the address of the restaurant.
“The way you flagged down this cab was impressive,” Vangie said, her mood seeming to have elevated. “You hailed this cab like a native New Yorker.”
“I know, right? It took a lot of practice, but I figured it out,” Harlow said in an upbeat tone.
“What’s the secret?”
“Secret to what?”
“The secret to getting a cab in this chaotic city. I had to wait for a cab in a long-ass line outside Penn Station; I tried stepping off the curb and waving my arms, but each cab drove past me like I was invisible. It was so infuriating.”
“There’s no secret. I simply have the attitude that I’m entitled to have a cab, and drivers act accordingly and pull over.”
“I guess you have to be rich to have that entitled feeling.”
“No, it has nothing to do with money. It’s an inner feeling.”
“Uh-huh,” Vangie said doubtfully. “I bet you didn’t feel entitled before you married Drake.”
“You’ve been making a lot of snide comments, lately. Are you upset with me about something?” Harlow scrutinized Vangie’s face, her eyes, searching for the truth.
“No, I’m not mad at you. I just have a lot going on right now.”
“Like what?”
Vangie blew out a long sigh. “Well…Shawn, for one thing.”
“What about Shawn?”
“He and his tramp of a girlfriend ganged up on me this morning.”
“You’re kidding? I hope it didn’t get physical.”
“Hell, no. I would have whipped that skank bitch’s ass if she put her hands on me.”
“Well, what happened?”
“He brought her to my front door when he came to pick up Yuri, and that slut had the nerve to tell me that she thought of my son as her fourth child. And Shawn co-signed on that mess she was talking. She was deliberately trying me by tousling Yuri’s hair, caressing his face, and telling him that his brothers and sister were waiting for him in the car.”
“I’m glad you were able to control yourself.”
“Girl, it was hard. I was two seconds from slapping the shit out of her, but the last thing I need is an assault charge. What I really need is another attorney. The one I have is too soft. I need a barracuda that can convince the judge that my son’s life is endangered every time he spends time in that dangerous housing project where bullets are flying and all the kids are fascinated with guns. It’s disgusting the way Shawn has Yuri spending the weekends in the damn projects with that tacky bitch and her three heathen-kids…and I can’t do anything about it.”
“Why don’t you get another attorney?”
“It’s not that simple. A good lawyer, the kind that would fight to strip Shawn of his visitation rights, costs money. A lot of money.”
“Can’t Alphonso help with that? Have you spoken to him about giving you the money for a new attorney?”
“No.”
“Why not? He’s very generous, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, in his own way. He buys me what he wants me to have…treats me to nice getaways and fancy dinners, but so far, he hasn’t been doling out any cash. And I don’t think I’d be comfortable asking him for money.”
“I know what you mean. I was the same way before Drake and I got married.”
With This Ring Page 4