by Amarie Avant
“Okay.” She sounds like she’s rummaging around in the room. Her breath hitches. “Daniel, you got me a gift on your birthday?”
“Open it.”
The sound of the golden shimmery wrapping paper comes through the phone. Damn, I wish she was right here next to me.
“Damn it, Daniel, really?” she scoffs.
I smile.
“You’ve been threatening this paddle on me for ages. Are you serious?”
“Yes, beautiful. The second you get home, we’ll put it to good use. You’re ready for it now.”
###
It’s the last day of January. Rebecca and I set across from each other in an attempt to come to an agreement. They’ve cleaned her up, and she’s dressed in a navy-blue power suit. Her thin lips are set in a line. On her side are three lawyers. On mine are Desire, Ephraim, and two of his best litigators.
Her lawyers have said that I’m behind Rydell Money Management’s ‘confusion’ about her not being made aware of the portion of the will. They want to override the “marriage” clause and make demands due to Ephraim’s deception.
“Mr. Rutledge is not responsible for a botch on Rydell Money Management’s end. The executor was a very good friend with the late Wentworth Rutledge I. You come after us, we will assure the judge that their connection may have had a dire effect on us all. Rydell will be wrapped in the lawsuit, which will add even more years to Rebecca's request. You don't like being deceived, and it's fair to say that we don't either. Becky,” his tone is reeling and I can almost hear the entire nickname he has for her, “do you have the funds to pay these prestigious attorneys for all that time wasted? Your request for damages will land so far left from its mark, it won't even be funny,” Ephraim says.
“So, I guess you’re never gonna marry her.” Rebecca nudges her head to Desire while I sink back into my chair in disinterest.
Her main attorney, McGraves speaks up. “Say, for instance, all the newspapers in the western hemisphere become aware of your little black fetish.”
I sit erect in my chair. “Black fetish?”
Ephraim whispers in my ear for me not to speak to McGraves or any of them. His tone is hard, and he’s already angry that Desire came along.
“Yeah, the lovely Ms. Taylor. The woman you refused to marry due to the will. You two are in so many magazines. It looks like love, but unfortunately the leaked contract will have the masses reading between the lines. The black mistress in all caps. Very catchy advertised phrase.”
I chuckle at his threat.
“Oh, but Ms. Taylor isn't your first black mistress. Oh no, the French Guianese,” he snaps his fingers, “Jada Richards. The media will have a field day with that information. Next, you’ll counter, and I assume the natural reaction will be hiring other women for an outreach to claim that you’re such a good guy.”
“As in women, you mean Caucasian women?” I lean forward. “White women, ones that fit the bill for my grandfather’s desire in a mate for me? Is that what you’re indicating? That my team will hire some sweet little blonde girl to say we had such a long, good relationship. And we just … just didn’t make it? That I’m not some weird monster with a fetish for black women? That’s what you believe my next move will be if the shit hits the fucking fan?”
Ephraim reaches in and I place my hand up.
“Listen here. You all are some real fucking characters.” I chuckle. “I have had a few mistresses. Fuck that. I don't have to tell you why but feel it's important to school you. What the fuck about Scarlett? You found Jada so I’m sure you heard of Scarlett too. However, Scarlett isn’t just a piece of shit for you to slam through the ringer.
“She’s an environmental engineer, and on any given Sunday her aspirations exceed your narrow-minded realities! She’s saving the fucking planet from water pollution. Jada, the black one, is the crux of the Canadian Embassy. She doesn’t just translate French, she gives a fuck about the people who require her assistance. And Ari …she’ll graduate summa cum laude. Becky, you don’t even understand what that shit is, so fuck you! Consider them before acting on your emotions, Rebecca. The woman I’m in love with reminds me of my mama. So this isn't a case of self-hate or I can't date my race because of x,y and fucking z.”
“Your mother?” McGrave’s face clouds in the same confusion Desire’s had when I told her about Odessa.
“That fat old slob is still alive?” Rebecca seethes.
Ephraim is in my ear again. “Can you shut the fuck up and see about Desire?” he whispers.
I glance around. Her chair is empty.
Desire
I just fucking became Daniel’s mistress. His black mistress…forget all of my own personal accolades and achievements. Those bastards only saw my skin tone and assumed I was his bitch!
By the time I shove the door closed to the meeting room at Levine and Son’s law firm, Daniel is arguing about Ariana. Rebecca’s entire team is white, and I should be proud that he’s forcing through the ‘mad black woman’ stereotype, but there was no way in hell I could continue to sit in their company or listen to him speak fondly of his previous mistresses.
The firm is two stories. There are cubicles in the center and the perimeter are lofty offices for the firm partners. Levine has the largest office, but I’m not sure which direction we came from earlier. So, I walk around the edge, glancing into every glass wall and reading the shiny nameplates to find his office.
At the fifth door, I glance inside and a white-haired man waves at me. My thick lips perch into a weak smile and I attempt to be cordial, waving back and continuing on.
“Ms. Taylor.” The man who has to be at least sixty steps out into the hallway. He holds his hand out. “Abner Levine.”
“Oh, you’re Ephraim’s father.” I shake his hand, determined not to be rude.
“The one and only. You skipped out on mediation?”
I nod.
“It is rather dull,” he says, ushering me into the room. “Filled with a bunch of threats. My son is humoring those idiots. They have no real reason to call out Daniel, at least not until the two of you marry.”
“We may, we may not.” I shrug. Damn, I’m still pissed. I wish I had walked around the opposite side of the building, I rather be alone in my thoughts.
“You’ll marry. Hopefully before this old ticker here caves,” he says, tapping his chest. “Please sit.”
A deep breath expels from my lungs as I concede to his request.
“How’s Juliet? My son told me how hurt he was when telling Daniel about her lineage. We are wolves, you see. It’s in our blood. Guess I’m more of a mangy animal than a wolf like I once was. Eph was very patient, given the circumstances. I probably would have forced her hand in June or July.”
“She’s okay,” I mention, keeping quiet about Juliet’s attending counseling. Ephraim is aware, but I don’t know how close his father is to him or Daniel’s family. “Did you know Wentworth I back in the day?”
His thin lips twitch and he rubs the whiskers at his chin. “You’re thinking like a lawyer. Any person connected with Nolan is capable of offering a clue. Why the heck would Nolan create such a will after the world has perceived him as an advocate for race, class, and sex even?”
“Yes.” I bite my lip, ready for the truth.
“If Ephraim or I had been aware, Juliet wouldn’t have been hounded. My father, Ian, and Nolan took that to their grave, I’m afraid.”
“Desire,” Daniel growls my name from the door. The men greet each other with a nod, but Daniel’s gaze slices through me.
“Thank you for the chat,” I tell Ephraim’s father, before following Daniel.
“I’ve looked all over for you,” he says. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”
“Oh, did you think I’d run off? I won’t, let that be understood,” I argue. “I’ve been too busy looking toward our future. In fact, you’re the one being sentimental about past relationships.”
“Don’t go there,” he t
ests.
“How about this? Let’s go to Greenwich, Connecticut, and find a conclusion to this mess before—”
“Before what?”
“You give up.” I grit my teeth. “Or I do.”
The vein in his forehead pulsates.
“What’s wrong, Daniel? We can traipse around the world, but not in your old backyard, your home?”
“Desire,” he grabs my arms and shakes me, “you have a mouth. I’m highly aware it has no breaks, but don’t threaten me. I won’t give up. I’ll be damned if I let you give up on us.”
“So, Connecticut?” I raise an eyebrow. He says nothing. I start away. “Whatever, I’ll catch a Lyft to my mom’s, she invited me to dinner. The holidays were brutal enough. Maybe you should fly over to Jada or one of your other girls tonight or something?”
His eyes spark with anger. I continue walking. I’m on my fucking period, and I’m confident that I’m being a bitch, but oh well.
###
Pharrell Williams’ Despicable Me song is clanking around in my psyche: I’m having a bad, bad day…
Probably not the best time to dine out, with anyone. I held my tongue as that bitch, Rebecca, glared and said her piece. I held my tongue as Daniel began to make a case for ‘why care about his hoes.’
Yet here I am, with a bowl of gumbo before me. It’s my father and my mother like many times before. The only difference is I’m thirty now, and this time last year I didn’t have a man who loved me at home.
Rain is thudding against the windows as I ask, “Mom, why do you hate Azalea so much?”
She’d just picked up a spoonful of food, but drops it.
“Don’t look at Dad. Tell me,” I say.
“Excuse me, Desirenda. What do you mean, ‘don’t look at’ James? I am not a child.”
“Good. Nobody at this table is. So, tell me why you hate Azalea?” I ask.
“I don’t hate anyone. That’s in the Bible.”
I sink back in my chair and chuckle. “Thanksgiving was split. I came here to be with this family—without Daniel. Then I went home—”
“Home? Your love shack—excuse me, love mansion?” her eyebrow rises.
“I went home,” I reiterate, as my Dad tells us both to lower our voices. “I had Thanksgiving yet again with the man I love, and his family. Azalea came. I’m sure I could’ve ruined his Thanksgiving, but instead I ruined his Christmas by asking him to come over here for a while. He had a good time for a while when Lauren dropped off Riley, though. Why do I feel like I have two families? Dad, must I have two families? I’m not married, don’t have any damn kids. Why can’t people,” I snap, glaring at my mom, “be cordial with people?”
Mom arises. “You know what, Desire, this isn’t even my problem. James, you handle it!”
“How can you remove yourself from this problem? The only person with the stank face and sour mood when Daniel or Aunt Azalea come around is you!”
“Call that bitch your auntie one more time!” She slams her fist onto the table so hard that her utensils shake.
“Monique, sheesh, will you just sit down?” my father says.
“No, James. I can’t trust you or your bitch!”
“What?” My face rears back at her jarring words.
“That’s right. Azalea isn’t your brother’s sister, full blooded or half. You know how his damn daddy got down.” She rolls her neck. “Azalea used to be his bottom bitch. Do anything for this motherfucker.”
“Now I’m a motherfucker?” Dad points to himself.
She shrugs. “You’re whatever. Extraordinary surgeon at work. You’ve got the Carlton Banks from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air attitude. Come home and one or the other of your family is over here needing this, that, and the other! But I don’t know your face when you’re out on your own, not at the country club.”
“You still don’t trust me?” he roars. “After all these years.”
“Hell no! Mama didn’t raise no fool!”
“Then that’s the animosity. Not Azalea, but me. The day I met you, I stopped…” His shouting trails off as he glances at me in embarrassment. So far, I’ve clung to every word stitching together the sordid story. Dad sighs and says, “Monique, the day you came into my life, my business became just business. I no longer fooled around with—”
“Say her name under my roof, James, I double dog dare you! Nasty ass bastard. You’re probably still screwing that bitch.” She picks up the steel crab leg opener, pointing the double edge toward him.
“Mom!” I shout. “This isn’t the sequel of Hustle and Flow. Check yourself damn! No pimps and stabbing folks. Wha-what do you mean she was Dad’s …”
“Azalea,” Dad says. “There, I said it, Monique. I have never put a hand on you. Don’t make me second guess treating you so well. Spoiled ass brat.” He turns to me and continues. “Azalea and a few other women were employed by me. It started my senior year in high school. In college, I would’ve gotten through on scholarships and grants. Yet, who wants to get by? When I was twenty-three I started medical school. I met your mom when she was walking home from high school while I went to collect my…” his voice dips in embarrassment, “portion from my girls.”
“Were you…” I glance at my mother who is leaning against the back of the chair.
“Never,” she says. “That’s why I had higher aspirations for you.”
“Well, I appreciate those goals,” I reply, voice contrite. “I have never been someone’s ho either.”
“Humph, but the woman you’re so tenacious about looking up to has and still is.”
“All right, Mom.” I sip my glass of Sprite. “Azalea isn’t in love with Dad. She may have been in the past but she’s not now.” I recall one time when I was young, my aunt went out with a man who wasn’t married. I saw forever in his gaze when he looked at her. He just didn’t live long enough to convince her of his love.
I pull out my cell phone and scroll to the Lyft app for a ride home while realizing in the past that she may have been in love with Dad when I was young. I don’t recollect Azalea ever trying anything, and my father has never disrespected my mom.
“Dinner was delicious.” I rise. The driver will be here in five minutes. I’d rather endure the chill under the porch than sit here any longer.
“How will you get home?” Dad asks.
“I’ve got a ride coming.”
“It’s too late to take rides from strangers,” Mom cuts in.
“Yes, I’ll drop you off, Princess.”
“No need.”
“Girl, we love you. I love your dad, and you. I’m not sure if I’ll ever trust him, but I love you,” she says.
“Mom, I realize I’ve never seen this side of you because I’ve done a great deal keeping Azalea from my mouth while in your presence. But now, Daniel is in my life. You gotta accept him.”
“Okay, I’ll accept him. I’ll accept Azalea, if you’d like it. Damn it, let James drop you off.”
Dad and I head to the garage. I get into the passenger seat of his import. He mentions that he hasn’t even considered cheating on my mom while pressing the button to the garage door. The car moves smoothly backward, rain splashing onto it as it goes. Then it stops.
“Dad, what’s going on?” I glance through the side window since he’s gazing through the rearview.
Daniel. He opens the door of his sports car and gets out, pulling off his blazer. Daniel’s all soaking wet as he comes to the passenger door, holding the blazer up as I get out.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Tell you later. It’s cold, sweetheart.” He glances into the car. “Hello, James.”
They say a quick greeting before my dad pulls back in and I hurry into the passenger seat of Daniel’s car. There’s a paper bag with Pink’s Hot Dogs on the floor of a usually clean car. “You’ve been sitting here all evening?”
“Couple of hours. I would’ve slept here too if you decided not to come home,” he says, his linen shirt cli
nging to defined muscles.
My eyes burn with tears. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “You had your reasons.”
“Can we go home and talk? I just found out something very crazy about my family.”
“All right, Sweetheart.” He clutches the inside of my thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Daniel
May
The past eight months have been hardball; Rebecca threatening me for damages and Ephraim kicking back their claim with defamation of character if she decides to slander my name. It seems that throughout the entire—discreet—fight, everyone has lost sight of the fact that Titan Aerospace is my fucking legacy.
For the past couple of days, Desire and I have been at her island in the Bahamas. We missed the optimal weather just shy of a month, but this month marks our one-year from when we met. This afternoon, we’re on my yacht in the middle of nowhere.
I’m on the bottom deck, with a wetsuit not fully zipped up. I know it would be a cold day in hell before I could get Desire to snorkel with me, but I’ll try. She’s in a string bikini on the top deck. “Come down here, Desire.” A lazy smile crosses my lips as I glance at all her tantalizing curves.
“Sorry, can’t do,” Desire shakes her head. “You know I don’t swim.”
“How could you resist?” When she doesn’t respond, I lick my lips. “Desirenda, should I have you go find your paddle?”
I expect her to argue. My next calculated move is to irritate her. Baiting Desire will get her downstairs, and then I’ll toss her into the ocean. But Desire doesn’t readily argue. Something isn’t right…
“Daniel, come here,” she says, breath hitching.
“Des, what's wrong?” I’m up the stairs in seconds. My eyes follow what she’s intently watching on television. The blood in my body runs cold, contrary to the warm sunny sky.
We’d left all talk of my cousin in the States, promising that this vacation would be for us. Although turquoise water surrounds us, my cousin’s greed once again invades our lives as I stand beside Desire, glaring at the TV on the deck of my yacht.