What's His Is Mine

  With all that said, I know his daughter’s mom will always be around. I also know it will be difficult to keep our relationship out of the gossip columns, but it is the chance I am willing to take. The worst that can possibly happen has already happened. Some couples are perfect from day one, they spend every day together and never have an argument, and still end up in divorce court. Then what about the couples who meet and in two months are married?

  Cherise Long will be hyphenated with Simmons, definitely . . . Stay tuned.

  Chapter 74

  Adrienne

  Sometimes you really have to know how to take an “L,” and I think in anyone’s eyes five hundred thousand tax-free dollars for a few months’ worth of work is not really a loss. That’s why I signed the annulment. I really care about DeCarious, but if he doesn’t care about me, then fuck him. Who cares. I’m a half mil richer and DeCarious is a stupid moron who doesn’t know what he wants. I could have played the game with him a little longer and got more, or even made him love me, but I’m tired of playing games with an old toy. I’m throwing away the old and starting over, and the best thing about starting over is the clean slate. There is another rich man out there who doesn’t know anything about me. I can start all over and write our story the way I want it to go. And my next man doesn’t have to be an athlete, either. I’m so over them. I think next time around, I want an intellectual—some type of a businessman. I want him to be so busy with work he has to compensate me with money and gifts.

  Right now I’m just glad Tanisha’s life is fixed and Zakiya has got herself together. Both were unnecessary weights weighing down on me. I didn’t necessarily put either one of them in the position they were in, but I guess somehow I could be charged with conspiracy. That’s why I’m just through with all the game playing. I don’t feel like doing all the extra anymore, and I don’t have to. Someone will marry me and give me everything I want, just because. I won’t have to trick him or scheme for him to give me everything. When a man loves a woman, he will give her everything. I’m going to be a millionaire’s wife, one way or another. I’m going to “get one and lock it in” and live the life I’ve always dreamed.

  If you enjoyed What’s His Is Mine,

  don’t miss Daaimah S. Poole’s next delivery of drama,

  Turn the page for a special excerpt from the novel.

  Click here to get your copy.

  CHAPTER 1

  Adrienne Sheppard

  Seeing the glowing orange and red sun emerge from the blue waves of the Atlantic Ocean every morning while running on the beach was one of the perks of living in Miami. I loved breathing in the fresh sea air in the morning. Running not only made my body look fit and incredible, it gave me time to reflect on my life. I’ve done a lot of living in twenty-nine years. I’ve been a baller chaser, football wife (now ex-wife), a baby mother, a lover, a nurse, and an accessory to a murder that didn’t happen.

  People are usually judged on their own accomplishments: what they do for a living, where they went to school, but when your man is a professional athlete none of that is important. It doesn’t matter if you are a CEO of a Fortune 500 company or if you graduated summa cum laude. The only thing that matters is what team your man plays for, how much his last contract was for, and if he’s contributing to the team’s wins.

  I don’t know about you, but I like being on a winning team. I can’t deal with anything less. I had my fair share of underemployed, stingy, cheating, lying men. I dated my personal trainer, and he borrowed money to get his car fixed and never paid me back. Then I dated a nice coworker at my job when I was a nurse at a hospital. He sent the naked pictures I texted to him to every employee in the building.

  That began my quest for higher loving. I figured if I was going to get cheated on, used up, and lied to, I might as well be able to go shopping afterward to compensate for my pain.

  Initially, I attempted to date well-established men with careers, but I found athletes easier to deal with. They didn’t have a lot of time and were very generous.

  Plus, dating a professional athlete gave me a feeling of accomplishment. I was sleeping with someone’s hero—someone whom kids idolized and whose number grown men wore on their backs. It was great for the ego, but with the good comes the bad. Once you get a professional athlete, you have to keep him.

  My daughter’s father, DeCarious Simmons, plays in the NFL. I wanted him to impregnate me so I could receive eighteen years’ worth of guaranteed money by way of a child support check. I did that. Then my next goal was to get my daughter’s father to marry me, and that was accomplished also. I wanted my daughter to have a two-parent home, and I wanted a nice life for myself, too. I fell short on that one.

  My ex-husband, if you want to call him that, had our marriage annulled after a few months. He married me because I faked a pregnancy and got him to take me to Vegas and make me an honest woman. I said let’s stay together, but he wanted to break up.

  To get rid of me quietly, he agreed to pay me five hundred thousand dollars. I was reluctant to accept his offer; I wanted a million to walk away. However, my lawyer advised me to take what I could get. I followed her legal advice, and a month later he signed another contract with the Atlanta Falcons. If I would have waited a little longer, I would probably be two million dollars richer.

  If someone was to give you five hundred thousand dollars, you would probably be pretty happy and think you’re halfway rich, right? Hmph. A half a mil is not all it seems. When I first saw all those zeros deposited in my account, I wanted to scream, “Balling!” I had so many plans of what I thought I could do with it. Pay off my student loans, my house, take a vacation, go on a few shopping sprees. Now, flash-forward a year and a half, and I have spent a good amount of my small fortune. I’ve made so many impulsive decisions that I’m not proud of. There were a few really nice dresses, a must-have bag, and well, if you think about it, if you buy ten pairs of designer shoes, that’s ten stacks right there. I honestly don’t know what happened to my money. I just know that between giving my mom some money, shopping for myself and my daughter, Malaysia, upgrading my vehicle, taking a trip or two, making a down payment on my condo in Miami, I spent a lot of money. Too much money!

  My condo actually is what I spent the most on, but it was a great investment. When I purchased it, it was selling for a hundred thousand dollars cheaper than other condos in the area. I just couldn’t pass it up. And I’m glad I didn’t. I love living in Miami and being close to the beach. I run on the beach in the morning, and I love the nightlife. There is always something to do and somewhere to go. Miami is almost like New York City, but with warm weather all year round. Being from up north I appreciate the serenity, but I also know the flash and glitz are right here in South Beach if I want it.

  So I got my wish. My daughter has the two-parent household; I’m just not one of the parents in it. Her father, DeCarious Simmons, is engaged now, and Malaysia goes back and forth to Atlanta with him. I hate her father and his fiancée, Cherise. I wish they both were out of my life for good, but I have about fifteen more years to be bothered with them.

  ***

  That’s why I’m glad I gave up baller/athlete chasing. I don’t have to worry about all of that anymore. I am with an intellectual now, and very much in like.

  My new man, Ian, is earthy and intelligent. He has golden sand-colored skin, shoulder-length dreads, and a goatee that is a few shades darker brown with flecks of blond natural highlights. His eyes are a mesmerizing shade of brown, and to say it plainly, my man is almost as gorgeous as I am. He cares about saving the world, is a vegetarian, recycles, and eats healthy. He would never wear a chain or place a big-ass diamond in his ear, like a lot of my exes.

  I’m his complete opposite: I like steaks, fabulous things, and pampering myself. The only cause I fight for is me, and there is nothing natural about me, not even my nails. Though my man isn’t rich, he makes good money as an independent film maker and producer. He’s in the process of gettin
g his first film bought.

  Ian is the first man in years whose salary didn’t matter to me. I think it is because: one, I have my own money, and two, he treats me like a queen. And he definitely is my king.

  I met my king, Ian, at the black film festival in Miami. I noticed the love of my life a year ago. I was in the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton, checking into the hotel. He came up to me and handed me a flyer to his movie screening. I was in Miami to relax, and the African American Film Festival was coincidentally the same weekend.

  His screening of Loving Aisha was a short film about a man quitting his job and taking care of his sick wife until she dies. I cried and thought it was amazing and wanted to know why his movie wasn’t everywhere. Maybe I was emotional from going through my own issues with the annulment and custody dispute with my daughter’s father, but after the screening I walked over to him and told him how wonderful I thought his movie was.

  I gave him my number, and he invited me to breakfast the next day. He took me out of the tourist district and to a local eatery. By Sunday I was meeting his father and stepmother, who raised him. The following weekend I flew back down, and a month into our relationship I started looking for places, bought my condo, and we moved in together. Ian grew up in Washington, D.C., and holds a degree in African American Studies and Film from Howard University. He is brilliant and so kind and giving. Ian came into my life at the right time, because although I had a lot of money, I wasn’t happy.

  My daughter was being divided between Philly and Atlanta. I had failed at marriage, and so many other things that I felt responsible for.

  His kindness has changed me some. However, we can’t develop fully until I see how his film career takes off. I’m never going to be married to a starving artist.

  Exhausted, I came in from my run and showered. I opened the curtains and let in the bright Miami skyline. Ian came out to the balcony with my breakfast. My plate was filled with egg whites, half a bagel, and blueberry yogurt with granola. Ian unlaced my sneakers and then fed me breakfast. It is the little things that you can’t pay for that make him so special. I know it is love because that’s the only reason I look the other way when my thirty-two-year-old boyfriend dresses like a lost college kid. This morning he was wearing tan shorts, a black tee, a vest over the tee, with a straw trilby hat sitting snugly over his dreads.

  “Why are you up and dressed so early?”

  “I’m going location scouting for this music video. Then from there I’m going to meet up with this producer, who knows DJ Ramir, and he is telling me he can get me a meeting with him. What do you have going on today?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Maybe pick up a few things at the mall or sit by the pool. I don’t know.”

  “Well, whatever you decide to do, make it memorable. I wish I had the luxury of shopping and stretching out in the sun, but I must go out and make a living.” He kissed my cheek. “Enjoy your day, beautiful.”

  “I will.”

  I love it when Ian calls me beautiful, because I know he means it. His compliment traveled down my spine and right to my heart. Still, as much as I enjoy the life of a semi-house wife, I have to find something to do with my life and fast. I need a new career or a business to invest in. My thirtieth birthday is at the end of the year, and I only have a couple hundred thousand dollars in the bank that somehow has to turn into millions. I want a new career, because I never want to put back on my scrubs and work as a nurse again. It pays well, but it is too much backbreaking work. I don’t have enough money to live a comfortable life forever. I guess that’s the downside of being in a relationship for love and not for money.

  Before I started contemplating my future, I tried to call my friend Tanisha. I hadn’t spoken with her in a while and she had been trying to call me. It’s actually hard for me to talk to her because of our history. Long story short, I told her to go on the run for something she didn’t do. Her boyfriend’s ex was stalking her. She tried to kill Tanisha, but instead Tanisha killed her—or at least we thought she was dead, but it turned out the stalker was alive and in jail, and I told Tanisha to go on the run for nothing. She and I had been through a lot, enough to fill a few books. But then she survived, and life is now going well for her. She’s living in Greece with her husband, Kevin, and her kids. Kevin’s a coach over there. Her daughter is in the military, and her son is in college. Her life is back together, and I feel so much better because I felt like I’d almost destroyed it. Once Tanisha’s mess was cleaned up, I met up with my ex-nanny, Zakiya, and turned her on to her NBA rookie boo. I thought I had done a good thing. Who wouldn’t want to be nineteen and dating a millionaire? But she couldn’t handle all that came with being a basketball player’s girlfriend. She was battling groupies and random people on the Internet. She lost her baby and almost succeeded in killing herself. When her suicide attempt failed, I was so happy I made a pact with God that I would try to live a different life. The key word is try, which means to attempt.

  Did you enjoy this teaser? Click here to get your copy.

  If you enjoyed What’s His Is Mine,

  don’t miss Daaimah S. Poole’s next delivery of drama,

  Turn the page for a special excerpt from the novel,

  Click here to get your copy.

  Chapter 1

  Crystal Turner

  “Dana, don’t forget that I have to take the DNA test tomorrow.”

  “Right, right, okay. I’m glad you reminded me. I have a meeting, but as soon as I’m done, I’m coming straight to you. Ooooh, I hate Kenneth so much for making you go through this.”

  “I know, but once he gets the results, I think he will step up and do what he is supposed to do.”

  “He better, because this doesn’t make any sense. My beautiful niece doesn’t deserve this, and neither do you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Okay, see you then,” I said. Then I took a few deep breaths and prepared to go back into work. I was on minute eleven of my fifteen-minute break, and I didn’t need another write-up. I hurried back inside.

  I boarded the elevator and rode back up to my floor, the ACR Cable Vision headquarters. I thought about what my sister Dana had said and had to agree that nobody should have to go to court to prove the paternity of their child. Let me take that back. In some situations paternity tests were very necessary, but not in my case. I knew Kenneth Dontae Haines was the father of my three-month-old daughter, Kori. I was positive because we were in a committed relationship for several years, and during that time I wasn’t with anyone else. I asked my younger sister, Dana, to go with me because she was levelheaded, and I want to have support just in case he brought his sometimes bigmouthed butch sister, Syreeta, with him.

  Negotiating a maze of cubicles, I made it to my desk with only a minute to spare, just enough time to log back on to my phone. I put my headset back on, and instantly my phone began ringing. The air-conditioning made it very cold in the building, so I put my gray wrap sweater over my skinny frame and began taking calls. “Thank you for calling ACR Cable Vision & Internet. This is Crystal. How may I assist you today?”

  “I have this blue screen on my TV,” the caller complained. I could tell from his voice that he was old. I didn’t know why people always called about the blue screen. They knew what the blue screen meant. It meant that they hadn’t paid their cable bill.

  “Okay, I’m reviewing your account,” I said, as if there was a chance that there was mistake, but I knew better. “Unfortunately, your account is showing that you have a past due balance of one hundred and eighty-nine dollars.” I hated giving the old man that bad news.

  “What! Is that for one month?” the old man asked me.

  “No, sir. Two months.”

  “Hmm. I gave my grandson the money, and he didn’t pay the bill! Now I’m about to miss all my shows. If I mail you a check today, will you turn the cable back on?”

  Aw, this was so sad. I hated this part of my job.

  “No, sir, full payment is due at this time. Howev
er, I can take a check by phone.”

  He made an irritated sound. “I can’t see this goddamn number on the check. Look, never mind. It’s a shame how y’all rob the elderly. Can’t even watch my television. All I can do now is just sit here and look at a blue screen.” He grunted in aggravation. “You goddamn robbers, making people pay to watch TV, anyway.”

  I heard the man continue to mumble, and then he hung up on me. Just one of our millions of loyal, happy customers, I thought as I took the next call. I’d been a customer service representative for five years. The only really good thing that came with the job was the free cable and Internet. As I answered the caller on hold, I waved to my returning coworker, Gloria. She always tried to pop her head over my cubicle and make conversation between calls. But I wasn’t interested. I kept it at “Good morning,” “Hello,” and “See you tomorrow.”

  I was more of a loner. I barely spoke to my supervisor, Delphine. I kept to myself, and I didn’t have a lot of friends. My kids kept me busy enough. I didn’t have time for catty, petty, drama-filled women. That was why I didn’t deal with any of the women on my job. I’d seen it happen so many times. Two coworkers were besties; then the next thing you knew, they were enemies, telling everybody on the job each other’s business. No thanks! The same women that ran to your desk with juicy news about someone would do the same thing to you. I came to work and then went home to my babies—Kori, who was three months old; Nasir, who was five; and Jewel, who was nine.