“Ugh. Why me?” I sighed out loud as I took the last sip of my room-temperature coffee and left the nurses station.
“I’ll be right up. Keep her calm and stay with her.”
Once I was on the third floor I saw eighty-nine-year-old Patricia Fein balled up crying on the floor. She was balding and what was left of her hair looked like white sticky cotton. Her pale blue nightgown was sagging off of her wrinkled neck.
“Mrs. Fein, we talked about you trying to leave. You cannot just walk out of the building.” She didn’t respond; she just looked at me with frozen, deerlike eyes. It was like I was talking to myself. Sometimes talking to the elderly when they were suffering from dementia or Alzheimer’s was like speaking to a child. She was not responding and I was angry with Dina for calling me up for this. I looked over at her and whispered, “What do you want me to do?”
“Make her go to sleep. I’m tired,” she whispered back.
“Mrs. Fein, I want you to stop crying, okay? Tell me why you are trying to leave.” I walked over to her and tried to rub her back. She pulled away and kicked at me. I reacted fast enough to move away.
“Mrs. Fein, you can’t kick at me. I’m here to help you. So, tell me what’s wrong.” She relaxed a little and then said, “My daughter said she was coming today, but she didn’t come. She promised she would come and see me. She doesn’t love me anymore. She is supposed to help me get out of here. I want to go home. I want to be back in my house. I want my daughter to love me.”
“She does love you, Patty. She was just a little busy today. I just spoke with Maureen a few minutes ago, and she said she’ll be here first thing in the morning to see you. So how about you get your rest and when you awake, Maureen will be on her way, okay?”
“Are you sure?” she asked as she looked at me with uncertainty.
“Of course,” I said, reassuring Mrs. Fein. “When you awake she is going to be here, so go get in the bed and when you awake it will be time for your visit with Maureen.” Mrs. Fein reluctantly let me walk her to her room and she got in the bed.
“Whew, I’m glad that is over,” I said as Dina and I walked out of the room.
“The food is here,” Kalisha announced as she handed everything to Dina to sort.
“How much do I owe?” I said as I dug into my scrub pants pocket for money.
“You don’t owe me anything. I got it. You just did me a huge favor getting Fein to sleep,” she said as she handed me my order.
I thanked her and I was on my way back downstairs when Dina ran up to me with the medicine log and asked me to sign.
“What’s this for?” I asked as I handed her my bag as I signed.
“I have to go upstairs and give Henderson his medication. It’s morphine—you know he only has a few more days.”
“Yeah, I was up there yesterday.” I signed the log and she handed me my food and I handed her the clipboard back.
After eating all my food, my scrubs felt extra tight and I felt like a nasty fat beast. It was four in the morning and I had a few more hours to go. All the residents were asleep and we were all just talking and watching videos. Dina was doing her favorite thing, which was shopping. I think Dina was the only person who shopped more than me. However, she didn’t necessarily buy nice things. Like she wasted money on Pandora charm bracelets and expensive key chains. She bought everything online for her house and her husband. But right now she was looking at something I heart, and that was shoes.
I peered at the computer screen and said, “They are so cute.”
“Girl, aren’t they? I had to track these shoes down. They didn’t have a size eight anywhere in the country. I’m going to New York to pick them up.”
“You are—when?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Really? Who’s going with you?”
“No one. I’m just picking up my shoes from that boutique I was telling you about—Lena Charles. It’s in Midtown.”
“I should ride with you. I wasn’t doing anything tomorrow but sleeping,” I said as I got excited thinking about shopping in New York.
“You should. And remember that bag of mine you liked? I got that from there, too!”
“That’s where you got that bag from?” I thought about it momentarily. I didn’t really have any money, but I did need new shoes and a new bag. Lately, I didn’t really have enough money for bills. But I was going to make a way. I deserved it. I worked hard. I knew I shouldn’t be shopping, but I was going to pull money from somewhere. It had been a while since I bought me and Asia something. I thought it had been at least three weeks. I didn’t care if something didn’t get paid—I was going.
The next day I was on my way to New York City with Dina. I hadn’t been anywhere besides work in months. Just being a passenger driving down the road was relaxing. Dina and I talked the entire drive about our kids, the job, and celebrity fashion. I lied to my mom and told her I had to work so she would pick Asia up from school for me and I wouldn’t have to rush home.
We went to Lena Charles’s boutique in Manhattan. Looking through the window I could see a huge chandelier and pink walls and every shoe imaginable. There were rows and rows of shoes lined up against a white brick wall. I stood by the door. I was afraid to go in. I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself. It was like a shoe heaven, and before I could even think to say it, Dina said, “Just breathe. I won’t let you do too much damage.” I took her advice and took a deep breath. Dina held my hand and we walked in and went straight to the register. She gave the short, blond saleslady her name and said she was there to pick up the shoes she had on hold. The saleslady looked up the information and then brought out a big black box with gold writing on it. While Dina tried on her new shoes, I salivated over all the designer shoes I was seeing. I wished I could buy every pair. There were everything from embroidery flats to seven-inch dominatrix heels. Dina got up and modeled her new pair. I took one look at them and loved them. They were so worth the two-hour drive. They were so cute I wanted a pair myself.
“Dina, you are about to be mad. I’m about to get a pair.”
“Get them. I don’t care.” As soon as Dina gave me the okay to copy, I asked the saleslady if she had a size eight.
“Yes, I think we do, but not in black. Only green,” the saleslady said.
“Green? Let me see what they look like.”
She went in the back and came out with my shoes and I fell in love. They looked even better than Dina’s. I put them on and walked to the mirror.
“They are so cute. Buy them,” Dina said.
“I am,” I said. “How much are they?”
“Five forty-five.”
Ow! I thought, but I had to have them, okay?
“How about I don’t have anything green,” I said, thinking about what I would wear with them.
“Well, you are going to have to buy something green.”
“You’re right—another excuse to buy something.” I laughed.
We shopped all through New York City. Store after store. I forgot about my budget, but I could not resist so many one-of-a-kinds, last markdowns, and I-had-to-haves.
By the end of the day I’d bought three pairs of shoes, and I treated myself to YSL sunglasses and a Michael Kors dress that I found marked down sixty percent. I also bought Asia a bunch of clothes and shoes.
After shopping, we went to have lunch outside at a little café in busy Manhattan. I felt like I was in Sex and the City, shopping, drinking cocktails in the middle of the day. Why couldn’t life always be this good? I thought.
“My husband is going to kill me. I’m going to be working overtime for the next three weeks to make up all the money I spent,” Dina said.
“Well, at least you have a husband. I am going to be paying this credit card down for the next six months.” I laughed even though it wasn’t funny.
“You better go find you a husband. A cute girl like you. You could get a rich one, too.”
“You think?” I laughed. She had no idea
. I tried to get a rich man before and it didn’t work out.
I picked up Asia from my mom’s house and came home and made us dinner. After dinner I read her a book, played a little, and then ran her bathwater. She was in the tub smiling and splashing the water.
“Asia girl! Asia girl!” Every time I would say it she would slap water in my face. She was such a happy and playful child. I love my daughter.
After her bath I dried her off and tried her new clothes on her. The pink skirt and pink and white hoodie looked so cute. I took that off of her and then tried on the aqua drawstring one-piece. That looked adorable, too. She didn’t care about the clothes; she was trying to get off the bed and run around.
“Asia, stay still so I can take your picture,” I said as I reached for my bag to get my camera phone. She kept moving around, but I finally got her to sit still and smile and take a perfect picture. I instantly sent the picture to my mom. I couldn’t wait for her to get older, so I could really dress her up and do her hair.
I put Asia to bed, and then began trying on everything I bought myself. I pulled my boots out of the bag. They were so damn cute. I was so happy I went to New York, but sad that I couldn’t go shopping all the time. I wished I could buy whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it. I didn’t like this being-on-a-budget stuff at all.
Dina was right—I needed a rich man. And in order to get a rich man, I needed to get back on the chase. And in order to get back on the chase, I had to get back on the scene. Damn, I had to find my friend Angelique’s number. She would be my link to a new sponsor. It is time for me to try to get back on my mission again, I thought as I searched for my old cell phone so I could find her number. There is no need to work hard all day, when I can just find someone who will give me their money. I met Angelique at a game and she put me on to all these parties. We used to have so much fun together. She would have me in D.C. on Friday and New York on Saturday night. She knew everyone, and whenever there was an exclusive party she was there. Angelique’s only flaw was that she had too much confidence. She thought that anyone who wasn’t drooling over her and asking for her number was gay. I would have to deal with that, but I thought I could stand her long enough to make some connects. I found my old phone and powered it on and scrolled thought the A’s. I found her number and dialed her on my new phone. After two rings she answered rudely, “Yeah.”
“Angelique?” I asked.
“Who is this?”
“It’s Adrienne, girl.”
“Adrienne. What’s up? Where you been at?”
“Nowhere, I just haven’t been doing too much since I had my daughter. How about you? What have you been up to?”
“Me? I just been doing the same old thing, piling up my frequent flyer miles. I’m living in New York now. I sold my condo in Philly.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I wasn’t down there as much anymore. Yup, oh, and you know Princess got married. I was in her wedding a few months ago in the Cayman Islands.”
“To her boyfriend who plays for the Nets, right?”
“Yup.”
“That’s nice. Well, I called to see what you been up to and maybe go out one night.”
“Girl, just come up here. I’m going to this industry party on Wednesday. I kinda deal with this promoter, so of course all the bottles will be on him.” She laughed.
“Damn, I think I have to work.”
“You working?” she asked, as if it was a crime to be a woman and have a job.
“Yeah. I have a baby now. I have to work.”
“Wow. What happened with your daughter’s father?” she asked like she felt sorry for me.
“Long story. We’re not together, but he plays his part. I get a check every two weeks.”
“Well, that’s all that matters. So I’ll see you Wednesday. Call me before you come up.”
Chapter 7
Adrienne
For the next few days I thought about whether or not I should go to the party with Angelique. It wasn’t really a hard decision. I had been working around the clock like a slave and I deserved a damn break. A night out and a chance to have fun and meet my someone special who was rich was overdue.
I called out from work so I could go out with Angelique. I lied to my mom again so she would watch Asia. I told her I was doing a double. I planned on not working a double, but drinking a few doubles. It was a little lie, but it was justified. I wore a black, deep V-neck dress that dipped low in the front and back. My shoes were six-inch stilettos, and they hurt like hell, but made my calves look like they were extra toned. I couldn’t wait to get to the club.
Traffic was heavy in the Lincoln Tunnel, but I still made it to NYC in just under two hours. Angelique’s building was a nice high-rise equipped with a doorman. She buzzed me up and I took the elevator up to the twenty-second floor. I knocked on her door and I heard her say the door was open. I walked inside her spacious apartment. It was furnished with a white suede love seat and sofa. She had white and black artwork on the walls and a chrome bar set and matching dining room set and end tables. Angelique instructed me to come on back to her bedroom. She was doing her makeup and her two friends were sitting on the bed. She stopped doing her makeup and gave me a fast hug and said, “What’s up, girl?” She still looked the same. Angelique was model pretty and tall. Her skin was flawless brown. Her hair was in loose curls, but she had it all pushed to one side. Angelique’s royal blue bandage dress and six-inch blue and black heels just looked like money. I came in and had a seat on her bed. She introduced me to her friends Shavone and Nytika. Nytika looked like a doll. She had golden brown skin, pear green eyes, and dark long hair down to her chest, with a part in the center. Not only was she beautiful, she had the nerve to have a perfect S shape, too. She was wearing a black dress that had slits on the side and left nothing to the imagination. Her other friend Shavone wore a jet black Cleopatra weave that made her light skin look a little pale, and her face was big like a pie. Her body was nice, but she wasn’t that cute and was wearing way too much makeup. But her emerald-colored dress and red-bottom shoes were nice. Both of their bodies were almost perfect. I just needed to drop thirty pounds so I could be back at my fighting weight.
“So, what’s been up?” Angelique asked.
“Nothing, I’m just happy to be out of Philly.”
“Yeah, girl, I’m glad you came up. Tonight is going to be so much fun. You know how I do. Girl, you should have been with us this summer. We nicknamed it the million dollar summer. All we did was hang with millionaires,” Angelique bragged as she added more blush to her cheeks.
“Really,” I said jealously.
“Yes, they all had money,” Shavone said as she slapped hands with Angelique.
“It was fun, but I’m trying to get married. Get one of these dudes to lock it down for the long haul. That’s next. It’s all good being the girlfriend having nice seats at the game, but I’m trying to lock it in. I need some paper work.” I agreed that was the perfect phrase: lock it in.
“You right, Angelique; lock it in and get paper work,” I said.
We took a taxi from Angelique’s building to the club. As always, when we arrived at the club there was no waiting in line. Angelique’s friend pulled us in through the side door and straight back to the VIP section. The party was crowded and the music was really loud. Angelique’s friend pushed through the crowd and took us to a table with a reserved sign. Immediately he had a bartender bring us over two bottles of Ace of Spades and a bottle of Cîroc. Angelique introduced everyone to her friend. His name was Mario and he wasn’t that cute, but just from the clear diamonds in his watch and ears, I could tell he had a lot of money.
We were there for less than five minutes before people were already looking like “who are they?” because of the extra special treatment we were receiving. So Angelique had to be extra, and opened the champagne and began pouring, letting it spill and bubble over each glass a little. She handed us all a glass and with one sip I felt like my o
ld self. I was back, and anything was possible. I was in a club in the middle of New York City and in every direction I was getting winks and smiles from countless rich men. I turned to my left—million-dollar-contract football players. I turned to my right—actors, rappers, and some more athletes. Angelique knew where to go. It was like I couldn’t stop smiling, because I knew all it would take is one dude. Just one to come over to me and make me his and I would have VIP status for life.
I took a look around the club for a come-up. A cute guy at the table across from us caught my attention. He looked familiar, real familiar. I wasn’t sure who he was so I tapped Angelique. “Who is that guy?” I asked, looking at him, still smiling and keeping my eyeball tennis match going with the cute stranger.
“Who, him?” Angelique asked, turning her nose up and looking in the cute guy’s direction. “Girl, don’t talk to him. His ass is broke. He used to have money, but now he is just living off memories.”
“Really,” I said and immediately sucked my teeth and turned in another direction.
“Yeah. Focus your attention over here, boo,” she said as she tilted my head ninety degrees in the other direction. “You see that group over there? That’s the starting line-up of the Pacers. They played the Knicks tonight and look, Shavone’s funny-looking ass is already over there.” I didn’t want to say anything.
“What’s up with her, anyway?” I asked.
“I ask myself what people see in her, but she gets money and has plenty of connects.”
“I can’t see it,” I said as I downed the rest of my drink and swayed to the blasting music just as Angelique suggested that we leave VIP and walk around the party.
As soon as we were leaving our table, someone grabbed my arm and said, “What’s up, Adrienne?” I knew that voice, but I had to look up to see who it was. And I couldn’t believe it was this guy I used to deal with named Mark Owen. He played for the Cleveland Cavaliers, and I hadn’t seen him in over two years. I was with him—well, chasing him hard—before I met DeCarious. He was supposed to be my baby daddy. He wasn’t ever a looker, but his charisma and personality and money made up for it.
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