Money Never Sleeps

by Tu-Shonda Whitaker

  “Thank you, Ms. Jaise,” they said in unison.

  “Where’s the baby?” Linda asked.

  “In here,” Jaise said, walking toward the kitchen. “You can come with me.”

  Linda walked into the kitchen and looked at the clock. “Boy, you guys are up and eating cookies at one in the morning as if it’s the afternoon.”

  Jaise chuckled as she took the baby out of her highchair. “I know.” Jaise felt tears creeping up her spine. Don’t cry. You better not cry in front of this woman.

  “Are you okay?” Linda asked.

  “Just a little upset,” Jaise confessed. “That all of this had to happen.”

  “Girl, we can’t do nothing with or about these kids.” She sucked her teeth, as she reached for a napkin and wiped the baby’s mouth. “I stopped worrying a long time ago. I did my best and after that I don’t have any more to give. I am here for my grandchildren but if Nicole wants to run after these no-good men and have baby after baby, there’s nothing I can do. I’m done. I’ve raised her and now the rest is on her.”

  “My son.” Jaise paused, her mind was set on telling Linda off about classing Jabril as a no-good man, but hell, that’s what he was. Wasn’t he? “Jabril is only nineteen,” Jaise said. “It’s not that easy for me to give up.”

  “Well, let him take you to the grave, honey. I mean you have to do what you think is best, but I’m finished.”

  Jaise arched her brow, for lack of knowing what else to do. She felt a little envious that Linda could let go so easily. “But Nicole’s your daughter.”

  “And I love her,” Linda said. “And it’s not easy to watch your children do the things you told them not to do. Or watch them go through what you’ve already gone through. But hey, when they choose to do dumb shit, this is what they get.”

  She’s right. “Maybe I can get the baby again sometime,” Jaise said more as a question than a statement.

  “I’m sure the baby would love that.” Linda took the boys by the hand and held Jaden on her shoulder.

  “Bye, Ms. Jaise,” the children said as they skipped out the door.

  “Bye, babies.”

  Shortly after the children and Linda were gone, Carl left behind them. Exhausted, Jaise flopped down on the sofa and just as she thought about how she could finally scream and no one would hear her, she decided against it, and instead closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.

  The morning sun crept into the sky as Jaise stretched and Bilal opened the door, tossing his keys on the gossip bench in the entryway. Immediately the smell of old vodka filled the doorway as he walked into the living room.

  “Bilal,” Jaise said, not knowing if it was the right time to address his obviously drinking and driving, or ask him where he’d been all night. Deciding against it, she looked at the clock: six a.m. “Happy birthday, baby!” She attempted to hug him and he pushed her away.

  “Oh, now,” his voice slurred. “You wanna remember my birthday? Huh?” He blew his hot and drunken breath into her face. “Happy birthday, baby?” He mocked her. “After I sat there all night in that fuckin’ restaurant waiting for you, and waiting for you. And then when I think you’re calling me, it’s a fellow officer telling me about your fucked-up son.” He walked up close to her and pressed her into the wall.

  “Bilal, you’re drunk.” She tried to push him back, but failed.

  “I’m not drunk, I’m tired.”

  “Just relax. It’s your birthday today, and right after you sober up, we’re going to celebrate—”

  “Celebrate what, Jaise?” He stepped back. “Ain’t shit to celebrate. My fuckin’ birthday was yesterday.” He turned away and walked up the stairs, leaving her standing there.

  Al-Janiesha

  “Oh, my chile gotta go to jail for y’all to come to my crib?” Al-Taniesha put her hands on her hips. “Well, you ain’t getting your ass up in here today.”

  “Who’s that, Niesha?” Lollipop crowded the doorway with a plastic jheri curl cap on his head and a zebra-print towel wrapped around his body. He looked directly into the camera and screamed “Oh, no!” as he scurried behind Al-Taniesha. “How y’all come without calling and shit? We ain’t cleaned up, catsuit ain’t pressed. My hair ain’t done. Oh, hell, nawl, you got to come back.”

  “Listen—” Bridget tried to say.

  “No, you listen.” Al-Taniesha pointed. “I was gung-ho on being a video vixen and taking this motherfucker by storm. And I’ve been on TV before: Wife Swap, Divorce Court, Judge Joe Brown, but none of them meant anything to me, not like Millionaire Wives Club. And I’m still down with the get down, ready to handle my scandal, and rep for my cause. And I’m not faking it for the camera like those bougie-ass bitches Jaise,” her eyes popped out her head, “Milan, and Chaunci. I’m real as hell, but one thing that ain’t going down is you ain’t about to come up in here and embarrass my chile. Hell no.”

  “How do you feel about her getting arrested?” Bridget quickly asked.

  “It’s a motherfuckin’ rite of passage. Shit, she a woman now. She went to jail ’cause she had to beat a bitch’s ass. Hell, at least she got heart. But I tell you what.” Al-Taniesha turned away from the camera and yelled over her shoulder, “Chrissy, what was that bitch’s name?”

  “Nicole!” Christina yelled back.

  Al-Taniesha turned back to the camera. “Nicole, I’m Christina’s mama.” She stood back and let Carl and the camera get a full view of her floral housedress, her bare feet, and the red bandanna wrapped around her head. “And I will whup yo’ ass! Believe that. Now if you wanna bring it, come to building 54, Lincoln Projects, apartment 27A. ‘A’ stands for ass-kickin’. And Jabril, Lollipop is gon’ kick yo’ ass too.”

  “Don’t be puttin’ me in that mess, Niesha,” Lollipop tossed over her shoulder. “I ain’t gettin’ in no fight. Messin’ up my face and shit.”

  Al-Taniesha turned from the door. “If that li’l negro comes over here and you don’t kick his ass I’ma kick yours.”

  “Well, then, we gon’ be rockin’ and rollin’.”

  “When they leave, I’ma take care of you,” Al-Taniesha spat.

  “I know you will, baby,” Lollipop growled. “I know you will.”

  Al-Taniesha gave a schoolgirl giggle, then turned back to the door. “Now go on, get.” She flicked her hand. “Go on home. ’Cause I ain’t got nothing for you, and your asses won’t be getting up in here today! As a matter of fact, I quit. I’m done. You over at those bougie hos’ houses but never once come and check for a real bitch until now.”

  “Oh, Al-Taniesha,” Bridget said. “Don’t be so dramatic. And let’s not forget we do have a contract.”

  “Unless you plan on buckin’ and beatin’ my ass to make me fulfill it, don’t come back here!” When Bridget didn’t respond, Al-Taniesha slammed the door in Bridget and Carl’s faces. “Motherfuckers!”

  Camera

  Chaunci

  “Lonely does not equal desperate,” Chaunci said as she’d turned away from the camera. She’d grown tired of looking in Bridget’s and Carl’s faces.

  “I think so,” Milan insisted.

  “You have lost your mind.” Chaunci chuckled as she cradled the phone between her neck and shoulder. As Carl walked around her desk and pointed the camera in her face, Chaunci turned toward her all-glass wall and watched one of the cleaning crew’s custodians make his way down the aisle. “And I hope you didn’t wave a banner in front of Kendu’s friend saying you had a desperate girlfriend,” she continued.

  “Would you stop with the paranoia? I didn’t do that.”

  “And is he an athlete, because you know I can’t do another athlete.”

  “He’s not an athlete,” Milan said. “And you need to go somewhere besides work and home.”

  “I can handle my outings, thank you. And besides, I’m not that crazy about Kendu and now I should hook up with one of his friends? Oh, hell no.”

  Milan chuckled. “Watch it, Chaunci.”

&
nbsp; “You know I love you, girl, but you know I have my eye on Kendu.”

  “That’s because you don’t know how to get over shit. Now back to the date. Would you just do it for me?” Milan pleaded. “Just meet Emory tonight, have dinner, and if you don’t like him, you don’t have to see him anymore. And I promise I will never hook you up again, especially if you hate him, which you won’t. I did tell you he was fine, right?”

  “Fine is no longer a black man’s selling point. Can I get honest, committed, good credit, responsible, likes kids, backbone, and someone that I can tolerate for longer than a week? I’ve been fucked literally and figuratively by Mr. Fine, okay?”

  “Mad black woman, you need to let some of that shit go. Not every guy will turn out to be husband material.”

  “I’m not looking for a husband.”

  “Then what are you looking for, because I’m confused. First Idris isn’t the one for you, but then he shows up married, and you’re hurt. Now I’m trying to hook you up with a responsible man, who is handling his business, and you don’t want to be bothered. Are you still in love with Idris?”

  “No. I was mad as hell but I’m done with that shit.”

  “Then go on the date … please. It’ll be fun.”

  Chaunci drew in a deep sigh. “Okay, Milan. But—” She paused as she watched the custodian sit on the edge of the desk he should’ve been cleaning; while his long and muscular arm with skin that reminded her of a freshly picked black grape, reached for her employee’s desk phone and dialed a number.

  “Oh. Hell. No.” Chaunci spat.

  “What?!” Milan said excited. “You just said you would go.”

  “No, yes, wait.” Chaunci collected her thoughts. “I’ll meet Kendu’s friend tonight, but that’s not why I said ‘hell no.’ I said it because I’m sitting here watching one of the cleaning guys—and he must be new, because I’ve never seen his lazy ass around here before—sit his fine ass—see Mr. Fine strikes again—on the edge of my employee’s desk and yap on her phone.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “I wish!”

  “That’s insane.”

  “Does he not see me sitting here? And now he’s using her pen and sticky pad.”

  “He needs to be dealt with.”

  “Yes, he does, so let me go and handle this slouch right now!”

  “Okay, and don’t forget the date’s at eight thirty.”

  “I won’t.” Click.

  Chaunci rose from her desk and walked over to the custodian, who was still on the phone. “Excuse you,” she said sternly. “But what are you—?”

  “Shhh … wait a minute. I’m on the phone.” He pointed his index finger to the receiver.

  Chaunci blinked. “Excuse you, but you need to—”

  “Hold it,” he said firmly. “I can’t hear. Just relax for a minute.” He held his index finger in the air.

  “Relax?! Oh, hell no.”

  He ignored Chaunci and continued on with his conversation. “Simone, make sure you’re there on time. Okay, I love you too.” He hung up and looked at Chaunci. His eyes skipped all over her body, lingering upon her breasts and hips and then back to her face. “Can I help you with something?” he asked as he stood up, towering at least three inches over her.

  She placed her hands on her hips and sized him up. He wore a blue jumpsuit with a stitched tag on the right breast pocket that read “Parker’s Cleaning.” His sleeves were pushed midway up his muscular triceps and his shadow goatee added an extra sparkle to his beautiful face.

  Fine as hell, but obviously trifling as shit.

  “Can I help you?” he repeated himself.

  “Can you help me?” Chaunci said taken aback. “Yeah, how about you help me by staying your ass off that desk, not using my company’s phone, and doing your job like you’re supposed to.”

  “I am doing my job,” he said. “It’s just that—”

  “What? You’re lazy? Trifling? Trying to get over?” Chaunci snapped.

  “Look, I know it may have looked bad but I was talking to my—”

  “I don’t care who you were talking to. And put that sticky pad and pen back!”

  “Look, I needed to use the pad to write down—”

  “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you staying off my phone and not stealing my supplies!”

  “Steal? I wasn’t stealing.”

  “That’s what they all say. Now what I expect is for this not to happen again or I’ll make sure your days pushing that broom are numbered.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “No, I’m making a professional promise.”

  “Look, I needed to use the phone because—”

  “You should invest in a cellphone.”

  “First of all my cellphone died, otherwise I would’ve used it and I had to call—”

  “I don’t give a damn who you had to call!”

  “I didn’t ask you to give a damn. I was trying to offer you an explanation but since you obviously have a stick up your ass, because you keep cutting me off, then I’ma step to the side, push my broom, and be about my business.”

  Chaunci blinked not once but three times. “Oh, no.” She blocked his path. “You don’t speak to me like that!”

  “Lady, let me finish what I have to do.” He walked around her and turned the vacuum cleaner on.

  “Lady?” Chaunci said pissed. She stormed over to him and turned off the vacuum. “I don’t know what l’il federally funded program you came from but you need to get your mind right and your life in order!”

  “Back up.” He looked her over and once again turned the vacuum on.

  “Obviously,” Chaunci said, yanking the vacuum’s plug from the socket and tossing it to the floor. “You don’t know who I am. But I will be calling the cleaning company’s owner in the morning and you will be fired!”

  “Obviously,” he snatched the cord from the floor and wrapped it around the vacuum. “You don’t know who I am.” He gathered his cleaning supplies and stacked them in his portable station. “Because you can’t fuckin’ fire me. I quit! And you don’t have to call the owner. I am the owner. I was simply filling in because one of the guys called out, but to hell with it! Now what you can do is take your pretty ass, push your own damn broom, and clean your own nasty-ass office!” He gave her a once-over before he turned away and yelled out to his employees. “Josh, Dave, Robert, Kaareem!”

  “Yeah!” they said in unison.

  “Leave the garbage where you found it, get your stations and the rest of your shit, we’re out of here!”

  Chaunci was speechless. She stood in the center of the floor and watched the cleaning crew she’d contracted storm out the door leaving the day’s rubbish behind. “Fuck it.” She threw her arms in the air and walked into her office and grabbed her purse. “I can’t deal with this shit right now. Don’t clean the motherfucker,” she said to no one in particular. “At this moment, I don’t give a damn.”

  As she headed to the elevator bay and pushed the “Close” button, she looked into the camera and said, “This is not my fuckin’ day.”

  Vera

  This was the fairy tale she remembered.

  Loving Taj freely.

  No second-guessing.

  No sideways glances at him.

  No thoughts of where they’d be five years from now.

  She could breathe again.

  Finally.

  “I’ve fucked up.” Taj spoke with his lips pressed against Vera’s forehead; the tone of his voice made his words feel like a confession. She tried not to show her surprise at his cursing on camera, especially since he usually prided himself on not saying much. “I just feel like there’s so much I need to tell you.”

  They were in their dressing room as Taj got ready for work.

  “Are you okay?” Vera asked him. “Or is that your version of good morning?” she said as he handed her his silk tie.

  “I’m fine.” He sat down on a c
hocolate leather ottoman. Vera stood before him and he placed his hands on her waist. She slid his tie around his neck. “It’s just that I’ve turned into someone else. Someone who didn’t listen to you or hear you.”

  She crossed the center of his tie and knotted it. “No marriage is perfect, Taj.”

  “No, but they’re not all fucked-up either.”

  “Taj, why are you going to left?” She paused, waiting for an answer. When she didn’t get one, she continued. “Let’s just go from now.”

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I know I am.” She pinned his caduceus tie tack on his tie and said, “Taj, I have to be honest. I have to go for this HSN opportunity. I have to. I don’t know where it will lead or if they’ll even offer me what I want, but I can’t let this pass me by. I can’t. Now, I’m willing to delay opening the salons in L.A. and Atlanta, but right now I feel like that’s all I can compromise on.”

  “I know how much seeing your hair products in stores means to you.”

  “It all means something to me. But I realize marriage is about compromise and honesty. So, I’m being honest in telling you what I’m going to pursue and what I’m willing to compromise on.”

  “Whatever you want, I’ll support you.”

  Vera cradled Taj’s face between her hands and kissed him. “You’re the best husband in the world.”

  “Oh, no.” Bridget butted her palm against her forehead. “Carl, wake me up when As The World Turns is over.”

  They ignored Bridget and continued.

  “Of course I’m the best husband in the world.” Taj tapped Vera on the ass. “I’m also the only person who’ll admit that when you started making Volume I was concerned as hell.” He walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.

  Vera followed him and put her hands on her hips. “What do you mean, you were concerned?”

  He chuckled. “Because, baby, they used to stink. Damn, I couldn’t stand the smell.”

  “Be quiet. You know I had to perfect the scent.” She laughed. “And thank God for Aunt Cookie letting me experiment on her.”