“You cheating on me, Danielle? Huh?”
I drop my fork onto my plate wishing like hell that Mohammed would let me enjoy the jerk chicken and wild rice he made for our dinner. I want some good food, some good sex, and a good night of sleep. Instead he is filling up my evening with petty arguments.
Mohammed sits across from me at the small round table with his eyes locked on me as he wrings his hands. I look away from him at anything and everything but his eyes. The bright orange of his kitchen’s walls. The pots and utensils on the counter from his cooking, messy as always. The black tile on the floor. Anything. Everything.
“What you done find some rich sugar daddy to buy you all those nice things you worship?” he asks.
Even though he is pissing me off I love the way his accent makes the word thing sound more like ting. I love it and I love him. I turn my eyes back to him. “I am not cheating on you, Mohammed.”
“Ain’t like it ain’t something you ain’t done before,” he tosses at me under his breath.
I toss my plate away from me and it crashes to the floor as I jump to my feet. “Yeah, I chose you over Sahad. Sue me for picking you over my Benz, my clothes, my furs, my jewelry, my trips out of town, my walks down the red carpet, my life as a celebrity. I chose a bigger dick and love. Excuse the fuck out of me, Mohammed.”
He smirks. “If all those things were yours, where are they now?” he asks mockingly.
I feel like crying but I dare a tear to fall. All of this is too much.
Carolyn’s advice.
Now since you’ve made it clear that your . . . handyman is your future—and he barely has a decent pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of—then you need to supply your own pot and window.
Alizé’s criticism.
Damn, bitch, since when does hanging out with your friends become a meeting?
And now Mohammed’s mocking.
If all those things were yours, where are they now?
All I want is a better life. To accomplish my dreams. To have it all.
“I’m going to bed,” I tell him as I rise from the table.
“Danielle,” he calls out.
I stop at the kitchen entrance but I do not turn around.
“You’re losing me, ya hear? One of these times you gone ’come ’round and I ain’t gone be here.”
I walk out the kitchen without saying a word.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Alizé
Ineed someone to talk to. I have a lot I want to say and no one to say it to.
Cristal busy hanging out with them high society bitches and celebrities.
Moët scared as hell about losing Tiffany so my drama seems silly compared to that.
Dom and Corey been hanging pretty tough, plus I’m getting back comfortable around her but I don’t fully trust the bitch. Who can blame me?
My mama is still hanging with Rockman and I am still on my daddy’s squeaky and lumpy-ass sofa bed.
Now that Dr. Locke and I are fucking like crazy, we haven’t had a real therapy session in weeks.
“Welcome back, Mr. Steele, and you look so beautiful, Mrs. Steele.”
I look up from the report Delaney gave me to look over on the KML Electronics acquisition. My heart literally stops in my damn chest at the sound of Delaney’s voice. So Cameron and his new wife are back from their three-week-long honeymoon across Europe. My eyes drop back down to my hands trembling atop the papers. On my left finger is a diamond domed shaped ring . . . not the wedding ring that Cameron slid onto his wife’s finger. I poured my heart out to him and he still chose Serena.
That hurt.
I feel a presence at my office door and I blink away the tear. “Delaney, I’m almost done with—”
My words are swallowed by surprise as Serena Lemons-Steele closes my office door behind her. I stiffen my back as she takes the one step needed to stand before my desk. “How can I help you, Miss Lemons?” I ask as I lean back in my chair.
She raises her left hand to smooth her long and fine hair. “It’s Mrs. Steele,” she answers with emphasis as she holds out her hand and wiggles her left ring finger at me. That isn’t hardly necessary. I saw the four-carat ring as soon as she stepped inside my office.
“I forgot all about the wedding,” I say, using one of my manicured hands to push my curly hair behind my ear.
Serena’s eyes hardened like the diamonds in her ring. “Funny that you forgot . . . when you were there . . . trying to convince Cameron not to marry me.”
He told her?
I cover my surprise good as hell as I cock my head and look up at her.
She presses her hands down onto the desk and leans down towards me. I don’t move one inch. “Cameron is mine and I will have your hood ass out of here quicker than you can count your nappy little buckshots.”
I sit up in my chair as my anger flashes hot as hell in my chest. In the softest voice, I tell her, “Because you just pissed me off I will fuck Cameron the first chance I get. Here in my office on this desk or in this chair. In his office. Or the conference room. Maybe the elevator. Or out of town on a business trip. In your bed or your car. Wherever . . . .whenever . . . and definitely whatever.”
Serena looks like she wants to slap me silly but since she ain’t silly she didn’t fuck with it. Smart girl.
“Cameron would not touch you with a ten-foot pole,” she says in this tight little voice.
I laugh huskily, filling her face with whatever I had for lunch. “One night when Cameron comes home and he kisses you and you smell the sweetest pussy ever on his upper lip don’t doubt that it’s mine. When you suck his dick and lick up all those good juices don’t doubt that it’s mine. And when he fucks you and doesn’t say your name, know that it’s because he’s scared he’ll call out my name instead.”
“I guess I just have to show your little ghetto girl ass just who is the top dog around here,” she tells me before she turns and slams out of my office.
I didn’t intend to put myself out physically or emotionally for Cameron again, but since that bitch tried to play my little ghetto girl ass close, then I will fuck him the first chance I get and make sure that bitch remembers well what I told her.
“Stupid bitch,” I mutter as I reach down in my tote for my cell.
Who am I going to call? Usually I would hit Cristal up without a doubt, but she’s back to her social climbing bullshit licking the crack of Carolyn Ingram’s ass. That bitch tripping again.
I look down at my phone. I have twenty voice mail messages. “What the hell?”
They all are from Dr. Locke. Sometimes when he can’t reach me his ass gets a little weirded out. He can be a little intense at times, but right now an intense fuck is just what I need. Dropping the phone, I rise from my desk and lock the door as I strip out of my tailored pinstriped suit, sheer blouse, and every bit of lingerie. I shove my clothes into my briefcase before I pull on the Burberry trench I wore this morning.
I’m out.
I grab my briefcase and leave the office. After shooting Delaney a quick lie about a meeting with my advisor on campus I make my way onto the elevator. I am loving the feel of my pussy lips rubbing together as I walk. The way the silk of the lining is rubbing against my body is freaky. I dial Dr. Locke’s private line.
“Where are you?” he asks as soon as he answers the phone.
I smile as I reach down inside my trench and tease one of my nipples. “On my way to you. I have on nothing but my stilettos and a trench. Are you ready for me?” I ask as I press my backside against the wall.
“Bring my pussy to me.”
I purr.
He hangs up the line.
I give my nipple one last twirl just as the elevator door slides open. Several suit clad men are waiting to get on and my ass is ready to get the fuck off. As I walk out the building with a bounce in my step, I am more than ready to go fuck a freak.
Girl Talk
Moët walked up the steps of the courthouse and tried
to keep her head held high . . . but she failed. She stopped and squeezed her eyes shut as she did the only thing left to do. “Heavenly Father, I call on You because I need You now. I need You more than ever. I stand here ready to walk in court with my baby and I may very well walk out without her.”
Moët stomped her foot as emotions gripped her and tears raced down her cheek. “I ask You sweet Jesus not to leave me right now. I ask You to bless me with the right to raise my child. I beg You not to take her from me. I plead with You to find a way for this to go in my favor. I love You for every blessing that You have ever bestowed upon. I am grateful for Your forgiveness for all of my sins. I thank You for all the support I have here with me today.
“My parents.”
Mr. and Mrs. James stepped up close to her on the steps of the courthouse. Little Tiffany was sound asleep in Mrs. James’ arms.
“My friends. Thank You for them all being here.”
Alizé, Dom, and Cristal stepped forward to surround her with tears in their eyes.
“And thank You Heavenly Father for making a way for me to pay the lawyer to help me fight.”
Helen Jacobsen stood off to the side with her briefcase in hand.
“Jesus, please . . . please, don’t take her from me.” Moët’s shoulders began to shake with her tears as she doubled over. Cristal wrapped her arm around Mo’s shoulder. Dom and Alizé each grabbed one of her hands. With their support she straightened up until she stood tall.
“I pray to You Heavenly Father with all that I am and all that I ever hope to be. Amen.”
“Amen,” they all said in unison.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dom
Instead of havin’ one sucky job now my ass got two. A full-time piece of bullshit and now a part-time one. Anything to keep my ass off the pole. So it’s kids durin’ the day and motherfuckin’ adults actin’ like kids three times a week at night. Who knew people be all up in Wal-Mart like that? Go get this. Find me that. Where is this? Where is that?
I wish I could tell all of them to kiss my motherfuckin’ ass and leave me alone while I just try to get through them four hours.
It’s hard bein’ around the girls and my clothes games done slip the fuck off. It’s hard pinchin’ pennies to survive. It’s hard bein’ off the damn pole.
I been back to Club XXXCite twice since that first night but both times I couldn’t find the strength to carry my ass in there again. And I do need the money bad. I’m the only one who couldn’t give Moët one red cent towards her lawyer’s fees. That shit makes me feel like I ain’t shit. But being off dope, raising my daughter alone (no updates on the daddy hunt) and livin’ right makes me feel like I’m the shit. Silly, right?
“That’s my mommy right there.”
I turn away from the chalkboards I’m cleanin’ at the sound of my daughter’s voice suddenly behind my ass. She and her little friend Hiasha are standin’ next to a tall and thin dark-skinned man in a New Jersey Transit uniform. That friendly—and fake as hell—smile that I give all the parents begins to fade as he stares at me. “Can I help you?” I ask with a little bit of attitude. He is creepin’ me the fuck out.
He holds up his hands like he wants to touch me or some shit, but lucky for his ass he drops his hands back down to his sides. “I’m William. William Kennedy,” he says like that means something.
“Daddy, I’m hungry,” Hiasha says as she reaches up to grab his hands.
My eyes go from her to his face and then down to my daughter, and back to his face just as he leans over to me and whispers over their heads. “I’m your father.”
“Bullshit,” I snap even as my fuckin’ chest feels like it’s going to damn explode or some shit.
He looks confused as his eyes keep lookin’ all over my face like he tryin’ to take a damn picture of me or some shit. “Diane and I used to go out,” he says.
The fact that he know my mama’s name throws my ass but this man standin’ before me all handsome and clean and workin’ and shit is not the dope fiend my moth—Diane always told me about. What the fuck is goin’ on?
“Listen, I don’t know what the hell you trippin’ off of but you ain’t my . . .”
The rest of my words don’t come as I see two sets of eyes—almost identical almond shape eyes—lookin’ up at me swallowin’ up everything I’m sayin’.
“Come on, Kimani, let’s go home. Go get your stuff,” I tell her as I drop the sponge onto the table.
“Come with me, Hiasha,” Kimani says, reachin’ for her friend’s hand as they walk over to take the stairs down to their area.
“Please, Keesha. You don’t know how happy I am to see you,” he says.
I am fuckin’ confused as hell and I just want to get the fuck away ’cause I don’t understand why this stranger who ain’t got my daddy’s name is claimin’ to be my daddy. This shit ain’t funny. If we wasn’t in a fuckin’ daycare I would cuss his ass the fuck out for tryin’ to play with my fuckin’ emotions.
But why would he lie? I ain’t got shit to offer nobody. No reason for nobody to lie ’bout knowin’ my broke-as-a-joke ass. I ain’t barely got a pot, the window, or the money to buy the water to make the fuckin’ piss. I look up at him and I see me all up in his face. I always thought I look like Diane but this motherfucker standin’ here proves that wrong as hell.
“When Hiasha brought this picture of her and your little daughter home I saw that she’s the spitting image of my mama . . . just like me . . . just like Hiasha . . . just like you,” he says with tears in his eyes as he takes two photos out of his uniform jacket.
I take the pictures—one of Kimani and Hiasha and the other of him and an older woman that looks like me forty years from now. I feel my body drop down into one of them little ass chairs the kids sit in. I saw the resemblance between the girls and I thought it was my no-good babydaddy slingin’ his sperm all over town. Ain’t that some shit? The little girl I thought was my daughter’s sister is my fuckin’ sister.
“You know I wondered all these years if you was dead or strung out on some dope, tryin’ to come up with some reason why I ain’t know your ass and why you don’t know me,” I admit as all my fuckin’ emotions and shit make my throat tight as hell.
“Keesha, I ain’t never been on damn drugs and your mama told me that she was pregnant and that the baby—you—wasn’t mine. It hurt me to know she was cheating on me but I took her word for it about who the daddy was. Even though I did wonder if you were my little girl after all,” he says.
I look up at him as the tears fall. “Then your ass shoulda did more than wonder. Your ass shoulda acted. Your ass shoulda stepped the fuck up. Not even a bitch like Diane shoulda kept you away from your child.” My voice gets louder and louder as I rise to my feet. I don’t give a fuck who sees me. I don’t give a fuck who hears me. I just don’t give a flyin’ fuck. I swipe away my tears as I point to him. “You don’t know what the fuck I been through while you off livin’ life and makin’ more babies. At least thinkin’ you was on drugs was an excuse for why you didn’t give a fuck if you ever saw me again.”
He reaches for me and I jerk away from him.
“Why are you here?” I yell at him at the top of my lungs. “It’s about twenty years too fuckin’ late.”
I push past him and grab my purse and coat.
“Keesha,” he calls behind me.
I just have to get away. Through my tears I barely make out Corey comin’ towards me. I know that his arms would feel so good right now but I just have to get out of there. I push past him.
“Dom,” Corey calls behind me.
I hear footsteps but I keep goin’ until I grab Kimani with one arm and push out the door to leave. I don’t stop until I am in my car and racin’ our asses away from there.
I just got to get the fuck away.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Moët
At first, it really didn’t sink in on me that I have to share temporary custody of my child with a man that
hates me. Not when I heard the judge’s decision in court. Not when I read about it in the papers and all over the internet (everyone knows that I bore his child and that I am the woman who falsely accused him of rape last year).
It didn’t really hit me until I had to pack her bag for the weekend. On top of that I could still lose her for good when we have to go back to court next month.
I am grateful that the Lord saw a way for me to even get up the majority of the money for the lawyer without me having to sell my soul that night. Jean Pierre’s son was safely placed in a foster care home while I continued my investigation into the abuse claims by the boy’s school. When I picked up that money the look of satisfaction and mocking on his face changed once I tossed the cash back at him.
I just couldn’t sell out one child’s safety, not even to keep my own child close to me. Cris let me borrow a thousand and Alizé came up with eight hundred. I finally caved and talked to my parents. We prayed together until my knees went numb but in the end they let me borrow a good bit.
And so the court case began.
Bone’s lawyer brought up all of it. My secret life from my parents, my affair with the minister, the abortion, the false rape accusation. All of it.
I never once said Bones could not see Tiffany. Never once. He didn’t have to go this far. I knew from the look on his face as his lawyer berated my character that he just wanted to hurt me. He wanted to humiliate me.
Now how in the hell are we going to raise a child together?
With all the damage he did in court plus his mother’s testimony that she now lives with her son in a comfortable home in Saddle River and will help with the baby, Bones and I are temporarily sharing custody of our daughter. I guess after seeing a millionaire like Britney Spears lose primary custody of her children to a man she supports financially, I should feel lucky.
There is a knock at my bedroom door and I look up as Alizé, Dom, and Kimani walk in with their faces just as sad as mine. I clutch Tiffany to me and press my face into her neck. She coos all softly and my heart bursts with love for her.
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