Destination Wedding

by Jacqueline J. Holness

  “I would have never picked this for myself, but I will give it go, I guess,” Senalda murmured.

  Mimi burst into the main room as Senalda headed to the back of the store.

  “You in hot pink?” Mimi shouted.

  “You in one color?” Senalda retorted. “But you look good, I must say.”

  Senalda and Veronique evaluated how Mimi looked in the dress. The fit gave her a more finished look while still framing her body. The door of the store opened then, and a tall man, who was the color of white-bread crust, came inside. Although it was Saturday, the man wore a crisply ironed beige dress shirt over creased blue jeans. He was handsome in a buttoned-up kind of way.

  “Hello,” Veronique said, marching up to the man. “Actually, my store is closed until noon. I forgot to lock my door, so I apologize for the mistake. Would you mind coming back in thirty minutes?”

  “Sure, no problem. I’m trying to find a gift for my mother. I saw all of these beautiful women in here, and I figured I could find the right gift for her here. I’ll be back.”

  Pushing his rectangular wire-rimmed glasses up on his nose, he stepped to Mimi and said, “I usually don’t do things like this, and I hope you don’t think I’m being a jerk, but if you’re wondering if you should buy the dress, the answer is yes. And if you like, I can take you to dinner tonight so that you can have somewhere to wear it.”

  He paused, noticing the other’s women’s eyes were fixated on him. “Okay, ladies, I will let you get back to your shopping.” He made a half turn to leave before turning back. “I have a business card if you want to call me later.” He smiled, put his card in Mimi’s hand, and walked out the door without Mimi saying a word.

  “Whoa,” Senalda said. “Let me hurry and try on this dress. Maybe if I do, another cutie will step up in here unannounced and ask me out in front of everyone. Let me see his card.”

  She snatched it out of Mimi’s limp hand.

  “His name is Dr. Ian Goodman. Jackpot! Now you can dump that zero you been booed up with for way too long and get with this hero. You better call him today or I will be mad. Veronique, you have proven you have skills.”

  “Shut up, Senalda,” Mimi said, scrunching up her face like she smelled spoiled milk. “Dat man was corny. And I don know ’bout this dress, either. You see my whole ass. What lil bit I have, anyway.”

  “I know you just didn’t say that. You always find a way to show your ass. Need I remind of the fight you started over Jovan? You didn’t mind showing your ass then, did you? At least this time you will have a man at the end of the day!”

  “Jarena, you betta come get yo girl,” Mimi said raising her hand in the air, “cuz she’s fun to get cussed out.”

  “Senalda, you are in rare form, even for you,” Jarena said, emerging from the dressing room. “And on the other hand, Mimi, I didn’t hear you say anything to that man. I’ve never seen Jovan show that much emotion for you in the whole time y’all have been ‘kickin’ it.’”

  “See, that’s what’s I’m talking about,” Senalda said, interrupting Jarena. “Nobody should be ‘kickin’ it’ if they are not in college. We are too old to be ‘kickin’ it.’ If you don’t call that man, I will.”

  “Ladies, y’all are hilarious!” Veronique declared, giggling, relaxing her carefully cultivated professional veneer.

  “I’m sorry,” Senalda said, pivoting toward the counter where the stylist had positioned herself. “We’ve been best friends for years, and we can get out of hand sometimes. I hope we haven’t embarrassed you. You’ve been so gracious to meet with us and shut down your store for us. Let me go try on this dress—and there better be a man waiting for me when I come back!”

  Whitney

  It had been a month since I discovered Richie’s secret, and I had been debating when to confront my pornography-addict husband ever since. Maybe addict was too strong of a word. You can only be addicted to drugs. And everyone knows that only people who do not have enough willpower or class are addicted to drugs. My Richie was nothing like that, but something was going on, and I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

  Years ago I had found a recipe for “engagement chicken” in a magazine. The author of the article promised that men who ate this chicken would ask their girlfriends to marry them within months. So one day I decided to make the engagement chicken. Just a few weeks later Richie proposed to me, on Christmas Eve.

  I found a chicken and the rest of the ingredients in the refrigerator. There were some russet potatoes in the pantry and some asparagus in the freezer. Two-and-a-half hours later, the meal was simmering on the stove. I changed the twins’ diapers and set them in front of the den television set while I searched for the right flouncy dress and heels, since I was pathetically short at five feet, two inches.

  I heard the garage door opening. Richie was home. I felt a warm sensation inside of my chest. Even after six years of marriage, I still thought he was one of the most scrumptious guys I had ever seen. He was almost six feet tall with solid muscles, although he hadn’t played baseball like he did in college for more than a decade. We both had the same complexion. Some of our friends even thought we looked like we were brother and sister, though our hair color was different. Richie’s hair was brown with sandy highlights. He had a perfect smile made possible by years of braces while he was in prep school. He practically looked the same as he did when we met as seniors at Spelman and Morehouse.

  “Whit,” he called, louder than he needed to since I was also in the kitchen. At times, the bass in his voice made it seem like he was angry even when he wasn’t.

  “Hey, sweetiekins,” I said, walking up to him and planting my lips on his. I felt my hair whip across my back which made me shiver a little. “How was your day?”

  “I’m just glad it’s over.” His chest deflated as he dropped a folder on a table. “I may have to go back at 7 again tomorrow morning, but it’s over for tonight. At least I think it is.”

  Although I was disappointed that he would probably have to work on the weekend, we always tried to be understanding with each other about our demanding careers. And an OB-GYN’s schedule was especially unpredictable, but I never complained. No one gets to the top working regular hours.

  “How are the twins?” he said, walking into the den. “Awww, look at my big man and my little lady!”

  The babies started squealing as he picked them up. I smiled at my family from the doorway. He placed Blythe on his right arm while balancing Blane on his left.

  “Is that my favorite dinner cooking?” he said, settling onto one of our den couches.

  “Yes.” I smiled and sashayed past him.

  “I know this isn’t our anniversary.” He looked at me over the babies’ heads while nuzzling their faces. “Did you go out and buy a car or something? What’s up?”

  “It’s been a long time since I made your favorite dinner, and I just wanted to surprise you,” I sang as I sat down on the couch, snuggling up to him and the twins.

  He shifted, moving away from me. “Okay, take the twins while I get a shower, and I’ll be back in fifteen.”

  “Okay, sweetiekins,” I said, positioning the twins in my arms after he thrust them toward me.

  As promised, fifteen minutes later, Richie appeared in the formal dining room where I had set the table. The twins were in their high chairs opposite where I positioned our place settings. Richie moved their chairs so that they were between us.

  “I don’t want the twins to think we’re ignoring them.” He straightened their chairs before sitting down while I stood, looking at him. “Have they eaten? Where is their food? Do you want me to get some baby food from the kitchen?”

  He didn’t wait for me to answer. Instead, he got up and breezed by me, ignoring the fact that I was still standing with my hands on my hips. He ambled back into the dining room with their peas and green apples and set their food down on the table as he asked, “Do you have my favorite beer? I need one tonight.” He started to go back to the ki
tchen, but my words stopped him.

  “Richie, why are you watching pornography in the basement every night? Are you a pornography addict now?” I was tired of buttering him up. I just wanted the truth at this point. The words flew from my mouth as if I had involuntarily thrown them up. I tightened my grip on my hips, waiting for him to respond.

  “Whaaat?” Richie barked. “Porn? Me? What are you talking about?”

  “Yes, you and pornography every night! That’s what I’m talking about!” The twins began to whimper, but I charged on. “Don’t try and deny it. I had been wondering where you were going nearly every night now for months. At first I thought you were changing the twins’ diapers or rocking them to sleep or working or something. Anything that would make sense. But you are gone for hours so I started to worry. So I’ve been letting you get up and leave our bed, and then a little while later I follow you.”

  Richie didn’t say anything for a moment. “A lot of men watch porn every now and then,” he finally muttered.

  “Do a lot of men watch pornography INSTEAD of making love to their wives?”

  He said nothing.

  “What’s wrong?” I said, hearing my voice go soft. “Are you not attracted to me anymore? I guess I’m not your hot chick or your girl anymore, since I gained weight.” I pinched the extra skin around my waist.

  “It’s not that,” he said, looking at me briefly. “You’re beautiful.”

  “In a mother kind of way, right? You don’t even want to make love to me anymore unless I initiate it. So you would rather get all hot from naked pictures online rather than be with your wife?”

  “Whitney, I’ve been so stressed out. Sometimes a man just needs…” He shook his head. “I just need to—”

  “Oh, oh, so giving birth to TWO babies at the same time and being a lawyer at one of the top firms in the city is not stressful? I mean, that’s all you’ve got?” The venom in my voice even surprised me. The twins’ whimpering turned into crying. I was glad Gwenaëlle had the night off.

  “Would you calm down? All of this took me by surprise, Whit,” Richie offered in a more conciliatory yet still defensive tone. “Can you understand that?

  “What took you by surprise?” I screeched, knowing that my tone would make my reserved husband shut down any second.

  “Being a father,” Richie admitted. “We’ve been by ourselves for years, and now we have two other people to take care of.”

  The twins wailed beyond the point of return. “What are you saying? We waited six years to have children. Grow up. I’m going upstairs.”

  I picked up our babies and stomped up the stairs to their nursery. I plopped down in the rocking chair with a twin on either shoulder. As we rocked, their wails reverted back to crying and then to whimpers and then they were asleep. I was calm again too, at least on the outside, but I was more confused than ever.

  Mimi

  A whole week had passed since Jovan and I had seen each other, and now I had to see him with dat trick Chula. I don’t know what it was ’bout her that made me so crazy! Jovan had worked with other young female artists before, but I just couldn’t shake that feeling that something was different this time. But I tried to roll wid it because I know in my bones that what we have together when we are together, he couldn’t have with any other female. Three years had to mean something, especially since he could pull any chick he wanted. And whatever chick he found himself with from time to time didn’t even matter because he always came checkin’ for me in the end.

  So I sat in the studio trying to psych myself up to be nice, since I had to interview her in about ten minutes. Jarena, Jovan, and Chula were coming up to KISS 103 to be on my show “Mid-Day Motivation with Mimi.” Her album Wassup Señorita? was dropping today, and my station was one of their stops for media coverage throughout the day. Jarena had called me early in the morning with a special request.

  “I know you don’t like Chula, but please, for the sake of my business, please promise me that you will be professional with her, at least on the air. Please.”

  I mumbled, “Okay,” after laughing about how many times Jarena said “please.” But now that they were on the way up, I wasn’t sho if I could keep my promise. Luckily, I saw Jarena first. Her eyes locked with mine as if to remind me. But she only smiled and said, “Mimi, so nice to see you again.”

  “Hey gurl,” I said, hugging her while looking over her shoulder at Jovan and Chula. They stood side by side looking like a modern-day Aaliyah and R. Kelly. If Aaliyah was short and stubby, with about twenty more pounds on her. I noticed that Chula’s thighs looked chunkier than they did on the album cover. Like sausages stuffed into jeans. Jovan told me that she had to lose twenty pounds before they could take promotional photos, but it looked like she had eaten at least ten of them back on.

  “Ms. Mimi Gayle,” Jovan said, reaching his hand to me to shake mine. Jarena had trained Jovan to be professional when it came to the PR business, regardless of how well we knew each other outside of the station. I shook his hand and gave it a little extra squeeze. His lips loosened into a tight smile, but I could tell he wanted to return my cheesy grin.

  I said nothing directly to Chula, but I asked the three of them to sit down opposite of me. After they sat down, I noticed Chula’s thigh was touching Jovan’s, and she did nothing to stop it. I picked up the album cover, examining it again.

  “Chula, those papas fritas, frijoles and all that Puerto Rican food must be real good.”

  Jarena must have trained Chula well too because she didn’t say anything for a second, but then when I puffed out my cheeks, she had words for me too.

  “You know, you’re a real bitch,” Chula hollered. “I didn’t even want to come to this lame-ass station anyway. You mad because I’m ’bout to blow up and you stuck here talking to stars instead of a being a star like me.”

  Jarena opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, I launched the interview. “This is Mimi, your mid-day motivator, reminding y’all to Elevate, Celebrate, Not Playa Hate. Guess who we got in the studio today? Corazón, better known as ‘Chula,’ Ramirez, the latest artist from A Shawty Records.”

  I asked all of the right questions and gave Chula the chance to recite her rehearsed answers. But a second after the interview was over and her first single, “IU,” was playing, I braced for the fallout. The station’s phone lines were slammed with people calling about Chula’s going off on me before the interview. As Jarena, Jovan, and Chula were getting their stuff together to leave, Angela rushed in.

  “Hi Jarena, would you mind waiting here for a few minutes?” Angela said. “I want to speak with Mimi in my office for a few minutes, and then I will be back to speak with you.”

  Since Angela had exactly six commercials to speak with me, she made it quick.

  “What the hell was that?” She crossed her arms and waited for my answer.

  “What, Angela?”

  “We don’t have time to play games. Why was the mic open before you interviewed Chula? The whole city heard her call you a bitch. But the funny thing is, no one heard you say anything to her first.”

  “She did call me a bitch,” I said. “And she called KISS lame. I don’t think we should promote her album, since she obviously thinks we’re beneath her anyway.”

  “So you said nothing to provoke her?” Angela probed. “And you happened to turn on the mic seconds before you started interviewing her?” She shook her head in disbelief before continuing. “Your spontaneity and sassiness are two of the reasons why you’re one of the best personalities I’ve ever had. But lying won’t be tolerated.”

  I sighed. Angela was the coolest boss I’ve ever had. I had to be straight with her.

  After filling her in, it was Angela’s turn to sigh.

  “So what are we going to do about this, Mimi?”

  I didn’t say a word. I wasn’t giving her the gun to shoot me.

  “Finish your show and come back to my office when it’s over. We’ll talk about
it then.”

  I went back to the studio, bracing myself for Jarena’s reaction next.

  “Have you lost your mind?” she started. “I asked you to be professional with Chula this very morning and you do the exact opposite. I would go off on you, but I’m guessing getting fired is punishment enough.”

  “I didn’t get fired.”

  “Hmmpph,” she said. “Well, it’s coming if you don’t figure out a way to be professional with Chula, because she is Jovan’s top artist right now. And she’s not going anywhere, either. And I didn’t want to say this before, but obviously I need to get through to you now. Jovan is not your man. He has never been. And the sooner you can accept that, the better off you will be.”

  I felt my face getting red, but I didn’t allow myself to cry. My producer signaled that it was time for me to get back on the air then, so I didn’t have time to think about what Angela or Jarena said until the next commercial break.

  My boss was mad at me. My gurl was mad at me. My man was mad at me. I kept waiting for a call or text from Jovan, but after a while, I figured that Jarena smoothed over everything with him. I knew I could count on my best friend.

  At ten till 2, I closed out my show. “This is Mimi, your mid-day motivator reminding y’all to Elevate, Celebrate, Not Playa Hate. And I’m out.”

  I got my satchel and walked to Angela’s office.

  “Come on in, Mimi,” she said without up looking up from her desk. “And close the door.”

  I did as she asked.

  “Have a seat.” She eyeballed me then while motioning to the chairs in front of her desk. “In spite of everything, you had a good show today, and after that drama you created, we probably got good ratings, but that is beside the point. This is the second time you’ve had an issue with this artist. I’m not going to get into your personal life, but I suspect this has something to do with your little crush on that producer Jovan Parker. But that’s your business. My business is this radio station. After thinking about what happened, I’ve decided I won’t fire you THIS time, but I do have to suspend you. For three days. Effective immediately. I’ve already scheduled a fill-in jock for the next three days. So, do you have anything to say?”