Money Never Sleeps

by Tu-Shonda Whitaker

  “Nah,” he said seriously. “I’m not lying. And I know I act crazy, but you and my daughter are my world.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yeah.” He placed a soft kiss on her lips. “I’m more than sure.”

  “Have you talked to Aiyannah since she left for Orlando?”

  “Yeah,” he smiled. “She called me and said that they were having a ball. My stepmother has a granddaughter Aiyanna’s age so I’m sure they will have fun this summer.”

  “I’m sure they will.” Milan said as she stroked the center of Kendu’s chest with one of her index fingers. “So umm … your birthday is coming up soon and I was thinking that we should have the engagement party/birthday celebration.”

  “What?”

  “You know, celebrate the engagement and your birthday on the same day.”

  “Hell no.” He frowned. “I don’t want a birthday party. Have the engagement party on another day.”

  “Why don’t you ever want a party, Knott? Most people celebrate their birthdays.”

  “Most people have something to celebrate on their birthday.”

  She looked at him, confused. “And you don’t? Do you know how blessed you are?”

  “Look,” he said, on edge. “I’m thankful to be alive. I’m grateful. Really, I am. But my birthday is not some international holiday and shit. It’s the day my junkie-ass mother left my ass in the hospital and never came back.”

  Milan paused. Out of everything she knew about him, she never knew he hated his birthday. Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Knott.” She caressed his face. “I didn’t know you felt like that.” Tears wet her cheeks. “How come you never told me that before?”

  “ ’Cause I knew you’d be doing just what you’re doing now?” He wiped her tears.

  “It’s not about me. This is about you.” She hesitated. “Maybe you should look for your mother.”

  Kendu stared at Milan as if she’d lost her mind. “Where did that come from? I would never look for her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t allow myself to want somebody who doesn’t want me. Fuck her.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Bitch is dead to me.”

  “You don’t mean that.” More tears clouded her eyes.

  “Would you stop with the tears?” he said, clearly agitated.

  “I’ll help you look for her.”

  “Listen to me, I’m not motherfuckin’ Antwone Fisher. I don’t give a shit.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “I just said I didn’t.” His jaw clenched. “And you’re pissing me off. Maybe when I was a kid, I cared. When nobody wanted my ass, and I was shuffled around from place to place, I cared. Hell, I used to look at my teachers and shit, my neighbors, the local fuckin’ fiends and wonder, ‘Is that my mother?’ Maybe I cared then.” He lifted Milan off of him, and rose from the bed. “But I no longer give a fuck! Now if you want an engagement party, then plan it and I will be there. But no birthday celebrations.”

  “Knott.”

  “You heard what I said.” He got off the bed, walked into the ensuite bathroom and slammed the door.

  “What the hell just happened here?” Milan whispered to no one in particular as she lay in the center of the bed, staring at the vaulted ceiling.

  Vera

  “Vera, we need to talk.” Taj said as he leaned against the closed bathroom door and spoke from behind it.

  Vera’s eyes scanned the digital clock on the wall. “Taj, baby.” She struggled hard not to release a deep and aggravated sigh. “Can we please talk later tonight? I have an appointment this morning.”

  “You always have an appointment.”

  “Because I have businesses to run!”

  “Right now I’m your business!”

  Vera opened the door and stepped out fully dressed in a navy Armani pants suit. She smiled at the camera and then looked back to Taj. Now was not the time for a serious conversation. She walked into her closet and slid on her navy stilettos. “Taj, tonight. I promise.”

  “I’ve been trying to talk to you for a fuckin’ week.”

  “And all I keep hearing you say is how long you’ve been trying to talk to me.” She grabbed her makeup bag and sorted through it. “Just say it!”

  “We need to talk about our family. Children.”

  Vera paused. She hated talking about children and babies, pregnancy, and staying home and expanding their family, which is what she knew Taj wanted to talk about, especially since that’s all he ever wanted to talk about. But there was no way she wanted another child. One was enough, at least for right now.

  She had other things to do.

  Chances to take.

  New discoveries to make, and having a baby would destroy her plan of kicking Susie Homemaker’s ass to the curb. Vera had to claim her independence. She had to. Or else she would die … and death wasn’t an option.

  But he wanted a son, and she had promised to give him one … and she did, well almost.

  “Taj, I’m bleeding,” Vera said, as she lay in bed seven months pregnant with blood running between her legs.

  “What?” he said, groggily stretching as he sat up.

  Vera screamed as warm blood soaked into the sheets and spread like a spider’s web. “Taj!” She panted in pain. “Help me!” She doubled over as her stomach cramped.

  “Okay, baby, just relax.” Taj’s doctor voice kicked in, but she knew he was panicked. He called the ambulance. They came just as she passed out, and when Vera awoke, she was in the hospital and Taj’s head was buried at the side of her thigh.

  She rubbed her swollen stomach. She knew it was empty. “Taj.” Her eyes peeled open.

  “I’m here.” He stroked her hair. “How are you feeling?”

  “How’s the baby?”

  He stared at her. Hard. Deep.

  “Taj.”

  He hesitated. “Vera, baby, you had toxemia … and your blood pressure was so high, Vera—”

  “Where’s my baby, Taj?” Her voice cracked, and her head felt like a chisel had stabbed through it.

  He wiped her tears and held her hands. “The baby didn’t make it.”

  Vera took a deep breath. Count backward … ten … nine … She sucked in another breath, held back tears, wiped her face, and quickly peeked in the mirror at her reflection. Relax.

  Vera walked into the kitchen with Taj behind her. “How about I come by one of the salons, where are you, in Brooklyn today? And we have a late lunch before Skyy’s recital this evening?” Taj asked.

  Vera turned to face Taj. “Recital?”

  “Her ballet recital? I know you didn’t forget, Vera. It’s tonight at seven.” She could tell he was two seconds from losing it.

  “No. No, I didn’t forget. I’ll meet you there, though. I can’t do lunch.” She looked back at the clock, and as she walked swiftly toward the front door Skyy shouted, “Mommy!”

  Damn. I’m going to be late. She turned to face Skyy, who was standing with her arms folded and pouting. “What’s wrong, baby?” She walked toward her daughter.

  “I have an annountament to make.” She placed her hands on her hips.

  “It’s announcement,” Taj corrected her. “And wassup?”

  “Yeah, tell us whatcha workin’ wit, baby girl.” Vera’s Aunt Cookie stretched as she walked into the kitchen with her boyfriend, Boyden, following behind her.

  “Mornin’,” Boyden, who everyone called Uncle Boy, said as his red rabbit slippers slapped against the floor. He tied back the strings of his matching fur do-rag and smiled, his gold crowns shining. He walked over to Cookie, slid his hands around her waist, and looked into the camera. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Boyden and I’m Vera’s daddy. Well, almost, considering I’ve never hit Rowanda off. Not that Rowanda isn’t hot. I mean since she left crack alone she’s not looking so ashy. But she’s in Chicago and married, and besides she’s not my type, ’cause Cookie’s my boo.”


  “Oh, my God!” Vera snapped. “Aunt Cookie, please get him.”

  Cookie smiled into the camera. “Okay. Ver-ra.” She said with perfect diction. “I shall get thy Uncle Boy.” She turned to Boyden. “Would you sit yo’ ass down?” She said tight-lipped. “Vera told us we could only spend the night if we acted as if the cameras weren’t around, and your ass is up here profiling.”

  “I know how to act on TV,” Boyden insisted.

  “Divorce Court doesn’t count,” Cookie snapped.

  Boyden spun around. “Like hell it doesn’t. We got a free trip to L.A. and I went off so bad, the judge never knew we weren’t really broken up.”

  “I knew you two looked familiar,” Bridget said. “How lovely.” She smiled at Vera. “I smell a spin-off coming on.”

  “Vera,” Cookie said, calling for her attention. “I think you need to talk to your daughter.” She pointed to Skyy who was still pouting.

  “What’s the problem, Skyy?” Vera felt as if she were being pulled in a million different directions at once. Out of habit she quickly fixed Skyy a bowl of cereal. “Tell mommy what’s bothering you.”

  Skyy hopped into a seat next to her father at the island. “I’m dropping out of the dance recital, and if Ciara returns to my school in September, then I’m going to drop out of school too.”

  “What?” Vera and Taj said simultaneously.

  “Skyy,” Boyden said, “you can’t get a G.E.D. in second grade.”

  Vera shot Boyden the evil eye. “Skyy, why don’t you tell us what happened, because dropping out of school or the dance recital isn’t an option.” She placed Skyy’s breakfast before her.

  “Your mommy’s right.” Taj stroked Skyy’s cheek. “So talk to us.”

  Skyy popped her lips and stuffed cereal into her mouth. “Nothing really happened, except I don’t like Ciara anymore. She’s not my best friend.”

  “Hell wit’ her then,” Boyden volunteered.

  “Would you be quiet?” Vera said sternly.

  “You don’t tell me to be quiet,” Boyden scolded Vera. “I raised you.”

  Vera ignored him and turned back to Skyy. “Why are you mad at Ciara?”

  “Because she said I was playing with Sasha more than her. So she got mad and told me that I looked like Kermit the frog’s dog.”

  “She said what?” Cookie said pissed. “You should’ve talked about her big ass—”

  “Aunt Cookie,” Taj said. “Don’t tell her that. Skyy, you should’ve told the instructor.”

  “It’s not nice to call names,” Vera added.

  “That’s what I told her,” Cookie said.

  “Shiiit,” Boyden attempted to whisper. “I wish a mother-sucker would call me a damn dog.”

  “I tried to tell the instructor,” Skyy said. “But she didn’t listen to me. So I had to handle it.”

  “Handle it?” Taj said, taken aback. “And how did you handle it?”

  “I told Ciara I’d rather look like Kermit the frog’s dog than smell like a Puerto Rican whore.”

  Cookie and Boyden fell out laughing. They laughed so hard tears fell from their eyes.

  “What?” Taj said. “Skyy, you need to apologize.”

  Vera looked toward her aunt and uncle. “Would. You. Stop?”

  “We’re sorry, Vera,” Cookie said, doing her best to compose herself. “You’re right. Skyy, that is unacceptable.”

  “Yeah, baby girl,” Boyden added, “Leave ‘Puerto Rican’ off the next time. And besides, you have to go to school. Dropping out ain’t cool.”

  “That’s right,” Cookie added. “And plus, two wrongs don’t make a right.”

  “Now,” Vera kissed Skyy on her forehead. “I want you to apologize to Ciara, and I’m sure you two will be friends again before you know it. Now Mommy has to go.” She rushed toward the door.

  “Mommy!”

  “Yes, Skyy,” Vera said annoyed. “What?”

  Taj looked at Vera, surprised, and she instantly changed her tone. “Yes, honey.”

  “I love you and I can’t wait for you to see my moves tonight!”

  “And I’ll be there with bells on!” Vera blew Skyy a kiss. “I love you, but I have to get going.”

  “Going where?” Taj asked. “And why are you in such a rush?”

  “Bye, baby.” She waved at Skyy.

  “Vera,” Taj called.

  “Damn,” she said, exhausted.

  Taj walked up behind her. “Let me speak to you for a minute.” He followed her into the hallway, with Bridget and Carl a short distance behind him.

  “What the hell is going on? And don’t lie!”

  Vera sighed. She looked from the camera crew to him. She didn’t have five minutes, but she had to find a way to give it to him. “Taj, I’m not lying to you about anything. I just have an appointment this morning and I can’t be late.”

  “I need to talk to you. Today.”

  “Tonight. Please. I can’t do lunch. And I really have to go,” she said without taking a breath. She pressed the button for the elevator. It opened and she stepped on.

  “Bye,” she said as the doors closed.

  Vera practically broke a heel as she hurried outside to where her driver waited. “Good morning, Richard,” she said as she slid into the car with Bridget beside her. Carl sat in the front passenger seat and turned the camera toward Vera.

  Bridget grinned. “I take it Taj doesn’t know you’re headed to Florida this morning?”

  “No, he doesn’t.”

  “And when are you going to tell him?”

  “After HSN and my lawyers have inked the deal.”

  Five o’clock …

  Vera looked at her cellphone as she paced back and forth from her seat to the ticket counter. There was a rainstorm in Florida, and she’d been waiting for her flight to be cleared for takeoff for over an hour. If she didn’t leave soon, she’d miss Skyy’s performance.

  Fuck.

  She took her seat, anxiously crossed her legs one way, then quickly crossed them the other. She looked at the time. Five thirty.

  Her heart raced, and every time she looked at Bridget, who she knew loved the drama of her life falling apart, she wanted to smack her.

  Six o’clock …

  As Vera stormed over to the ticket counter, her heels stabbed the tiled floor and the loud clacking seemed to announce that not only was she on her way, but that she’d be pissed once she arrived. “Listen,” she said to the ticket agent. “I know you’re just doing your job, but I really need some answers. I need to be back on a plane right now to New York City, and I need you to tell me how you can make that happen.”

  “Ma’am, we’re truly sorry about the inconvenience but safety comes first—” She paused. “Excuse me,” she said to Vera as her desk phone rang. “Yes,” she said into the phone. “Thank you.” She placed the phone on the receiver. “Ma’am,” she looked at Vera. “All first-class passengers can board now.”

  “Thank you.” Vera smiled, relieved.

  ———

  By the time Vera made it through bumper-to-bumper New York City traffic, grabbed a bouquet of flowers from a street vendor, and rushed into the recital, the children were taking their bows and the curtains were closing.

  “Don’t even try to explain this shit,” Taj said, his jaw clenched. “Just act like you’ve been here all night.”

  “Mommy, Daddy!” Skyy ran over to them. “Did you see me, Mommy?” she asked excited. “I was so good.”

  “Yes, you were, baby.”

  “Skyy, where’s your dance bag?” Taj asked.

  “I left it backstage.”

  “Come on, let’s go get it.” He grabbed her by the hand and left Vera standing there.

  “Where the hell were you, baby girl?” Boyden asked.

  “I … umm, had something to do and I ran late,” Vera said biting her bottom lip.

  “You need to start making time for something besides yourself,” Cookie added.

  “Wou
ld you please?”

  “Please what?” Cookie said aggravated. “I’ma tell you like my mama used to tell me. Idle hands is the devil’s playground.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Vera said, frustrated.

  “Slow down, baby girl.” Cookie eyed Vera. “You know what I’m saying to you. You have been running around doing all kinds of shit other than what you need to be doing. You need to be around for your husband and your child.”

  “I resent that. I’m here for both of them!” Vera looked at the camera out of the corner of her eye. “And can we discuss this later?”

  “Hell, nawl.” Cookie said. “Where you do it at is where you get it at. I don’t give a damn about those cameras. The truth is the truth and the truth at this moment is that you need to check yourself.”

  “Before you wreck yourself,” Boyden added. “Now be quiet, Vera. Because I haven’t pulled up and tapped that ass in years—but don’t push me.”

  “I don’t need the guilt trip,” Vera said, pissed.

  “No,” Cookie said. “You need your ass kicked! Coming up in here when the baby’s dance is over. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you just left a short stay.”

  “You’re going too far,” Vera warned. “I am not cheating on my husband.”

  “Really?” Taj said from behind Vera, causing her to jump. “Because I was damn sure wondering what the hell is really going on.”

  “Taj—” Vera turned toward him but before she could say anything more he’d grabbed Skyy by the hand and mingled into the bustling crowd of proud parents and gloating children.

  The Club

  Vera and Jaise were at the Setai Spa on Wall Street, waiting for Chaunci and Milan to arrive. They lounged in the full-service room, which had walls made of white grass cloth and blond-colored soapstone, bleached bamboo floors, chocolate-brown woven chairs, and candelabras hanging from the ceiling.

  Warm towels were wrapped around their necks as they sat in reclining chairs dressed in white terry-cloth robes with their feet soaking in honey-scented water and rose petals.

  A harpist strummed a soft melody. Vera closed her eyes and Jaise said, “It’s so typical of these two hood buggers to be late.” She looked at the camera, smirked, and turned back to Vera. “Last season, they were late every time we got together, and a few times they didn’t even show up. They have the worst manners, I swear.”