The Vow

by Denene Millner

  Every year Trista invites me. One of the most highly anticipated affairs of the year, it was an amazing event—held at the home of The Agency’s CEO, there were trapeze artists, fire eaters, and an array of burlesque dancers, in addition to a five-course buffet. This year Jay-Z and Madonna both performed a couple of sets. It’s understood that this is one of the few L.A. parties left in existence where there will be no VIP section—because everyone is a VIP. Everyone, from Governor Schwarzenegger to the Olsen twins, was in attendance. Even though it was her own holiday party, Trista still had to work the room and make sure that all her clients were being accommodated. So I was left pretty much to my own devices for the majority of the night. About five glasses of Veuve and two shots of Patrón in, I lost track of Trista completely and met Jamal on the dance floor. The newbie male model who just landed a Sean John underwear billboard on Sunset was the sexiest dancer I’d come across in a while. Long story short, we ended up leaving the party together. And we brought in Christmas with Jamal bringing me to climax after climax.

  Unfortunately, bad timing and the shows in Paris kept us from reconnecting, so we mutually decided to just let it go. Occasionally I’ll see his face on a new billboard, in a video, or in an ad in XXL and reminisce about our one-night. And now, out of nowhere, here he is, in Vegas, of all places. This is starting out to be a banging birthday weekend…

  “Hey, sexy,” he growls in my ear as he bends down to kiss me on my cheek.

  “Not me,” I coolly reply from behind my lowered lids. “You’re the sexy one.”

  “Whatever, Amaya,” he grins as he slides into the booth next to me. “So, congratulations on landing the movie. I’m happy to see that you’re blowing up.”

  “Why, thank you,” I reply, sipping the water that the waitress placed on the table.

  “Shouldn’t you be in a VIP section somewhere with your ball-playing boyfriend?”

  “Glad to see you’re following my life so closely,” I answer, secretly thrilled that he’s been keeping up with my whereabouts. “Actually, it’s my birthday weekend and I’m here in Vegas kicking it with my girls. What are you doing here, nosey?”

  “Oh, just trying to get my little side hustle on. I’m the principle male in the new Foxy Brown video that they’re shooting,” Jamal replies as he gently plays with my hair.

  “Really?” I respond as my skin starts to tingle from his close proximity.

  “Yeah, we’ve been out here for a couple of days,” he says and continues to stare at me from behind the most perfect set of eyelashes I’ve ever seen on a man. “We’re actually finishing up tomorrow. If you and your girls are feeling up to getting into some mischief, you should definitely come through our wrap party at the Hard Rock Hotel.”

  “Hmmm, sounds interesting,” I murmur, thinking about all the mischief I’d personally like to get into with Jamal.

  “Well, my pager number hasn’t changed,” he says, finally breaking his gaze.

  “I hear ya,” I casually reply with a sideways grin.

  “Hear what?” a voice behind me loudly inquires, and I turn to find that Elise has snuck up on me once again.

  “Oh, hey, girl,” I greet her. “This is my old friend, Jamal. Jamal, this is Elise Jacobs-Johnson. She’s one of the girlfriends that I was telling you about earlier.”

  “Very pleased to meet you,” replies Jamal as he gives Elise the once-over.

  “Same here,” she answers, shifting slightly to offer him a better view of her butt in the skin-tight Joe Jeans. “I certainly hope that I’m not interrupting something.”

  “Oh, no, beautiful. I was just inviting Amaya to this wrap party at the Hard Rock tomorrow night,” he easily explains. “I thought you guys might want some company while you’re helping Amaya celebrate her birthday.”

  “Is that so? Well, I’ve never been one to turn down a gentleman’s offer of assistance,” Elise replies coyly as she fingers her diamond-studded heart pendant. Once again, I find myself staring at her with raised eyebrows.

  “So I guess we’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Jamal,” she continues ignoring me.

  “I look forward to it,” he replies as he kisses us both on the cheek and walks away. “Good night, ladies.”

  “Good night,” Elise replies, breaking her neck to get a good look at his butt.

  “Elise Erin Jacobs-Johnson,” I hiss. “What in the world are you doing?”

  “Oh, Amaya, relax. I’m just having fun,” she casually responds as she signals to the waitress to bring her a menu. “Can’t a married woman test out her skills a little?”

  “Okay, if you say so,” I answer hesitantly. “You’ve been acting crazy since you got here. Just don’t get in trouble trying to be cute.”

  “No trouble,” she replies as she turns back around. “No trouble at all.”

  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you, / Happy birthday to you, / Happy birthday, dear Amaya, / Happy birthday to you,” the girls sing at the top of their lungs. After spending our entire day shopping and window wishing, the girls surprise me with a huge strawberry shortcake and champagne when we return to the suite Saturday evening.

  “I am so blessed to have you guys in my life,” I sniffle. “I love you guys!”

  “Aww, we love you, too, knucklehead,” says Elise as she gives me a tight hug.

  “And we all know that it’s only a minute before you blow up,” continues Trista, “so don’t be trying to shake a sister when you do.”

  “I will never be like that,” I answer truthfully. “You guys are practically the only people in this world who really know my heart, and I would be totally lost without you.”

  “Yeah, well, just don’t forget me in your acceptance speech, that’s all I have to say,” laughs Vivian.

  “And risk getting cursed out every day for the rest of my natural-born life? Not.”

  “Best believe that,” cosigns Elise.

  “Well, since you guys were kind enough to drop what you were doing and help me celebrate my birthday, I have something for you as well,” I grin slyly as I head into my bedroom to grab the birthday gift that Clarence surprised me with a couple of days ago—an advance copy of the October issue of King magazine. It’d taken damn near six months of stalking, but right before I found out about the film, Clarence finally managed to convince Datwon Thomas, King’s editor-in-chief, to shoot me for one of his coveted cover spots. Only the sexiest chicks in the game grace the cover of King: Gabrielle, Kelis, Ashanti, and now me. Humph, I’ll bet Datwon is super-geeked that his publication is the first to have me on the cover. Personally, every time I think about how much more exposure I’m going to get from this cover, I break out in a Kool-Aid grin. The article is a sexy read, while the photo spread, which riffs off the shower scenes from my Bad Girlz performance, is off the chain. As for the cover, well, I really did my thing. From the hot-pink rhinestone-studded bikini to the S-shaped profile pose, let’s just say that I earned the cover line—“Amazing Amaya!”

  “More surprises?” says Viv gleefully as she rushes to see what it is that I have hidden in my room.

  “God, Viv, you’re like a little kid,” chastises Trista, but she follows close behind.

  “I was going to wait until our dinner party tonight, but oh well… Ta-dah,” I exclaim as I turn around with the front cover facing them. “Have a sneak peep at my very first magazine cover!”

  “Oh my,” is Viv’s only reply as she stops dead in her tracks, her mouth agape.

  “Wow,” Elise states, her eyes wide as saucers.

  “Amaya, why would you…” Trista trails off.

  “Why would I what?” I ask immediately defensively. “You guys think I look crazy or something?”

  “May I see?” Elise asks as she takes the magazine from my hand and starts to flip through it.

  “Not crazy,” says Viv gently. “It’s just that… your breasts are kinda hanging out.”

  “My breasts are not hanging, they’re standing out,” I correct her. “And for your informati
on, I like the way I look. There isn’t even any airbrushing involved. Not for nothing, it’s a huge accomplishment to be chosen for a King cover!”

  “Hanging or standing, it really doesn’t matter. Love you to death, Amaya,” Trista says matter-of-factly, “but unless you’re an established star like Vivica or Tyra, this cover was not the move.”

  “Thanks a fucking lot, Trista,” I say from between clenched teeth.

  “Actually,” Elise starts thoughtfully as she turns to the article, “I think you look amazing, Amaya. It takes balls to do something like this, and, personally, I think it’s hot.”

  “Well, if there’s anyone with the balls, it’s Amaya,” Viv offers as Elise passes her the issue.

  “From what I can see, the photos are going to turn a lot of heads—but in your quotes you come across as young, sexy, and smart. Not at all like an airhead or some cheap video girl,” Elise assures me with a huge smile. “Let me be the first to congratulate you on your first cover, hot mama.”

  “Thanks, E,” I say as my eyes throw daggers at Trista. “I appreciate your support. I’m really excited about it.”

  “Hey, I’m not saying I don’t support you,” Trista says in a lame attempt to backtrack. “I’m just being real about the professional implications of the cover.”

  “I hear ya, but can you do me a favor and keep your ‘realness’ to yourself right now?” I respond as the tension in the room continues to build.

  “Whatever, Amaya,” she mutters as she turns and heads back into the living room. “I’m going to get in the shower.”

  “Okay, settle down, tiger,” Elise jokes as she tries to defuse my obvious annoyance.

  “I’m fine,” I insist as I turn away to move over to the window. “I’m just sorry that I bothered. I should’ve just showed it to people that will be as excited as I am and let y’all find out about it when it hits the newsstands.”

  “It is actually a very well written piece,” Viv gently inserts. “And, quite honestly, I’d probably do the same thing if my breasts could still stand up…”

  Elise walks over to where I’m standing by the window and gives me a tight hug. I bury my face in her shoulder to stop the tears. “Yo, don’t worry about what Trista thinks. You know how manic she is about keeping up appearances. It’s her job, for Christ’s sake. Let her worry about what everyone is going to say, you enjoy making people talk. That’s what got you this far, didn’t it? So what if it’s a gamble? You’re that chick. If anyone can pull it off, you can.”

  “I’m sorry I spoke so quickly,” Viv apologizes as she comes over to hug me. “You look great and I’m very proud of you.”

  “It’s cool,” I say as I dry my tears. “I just hate when I think I’ve done something right and it blows up in my face.”

  “You don’t have to apologize, we all go through it,” Elise continues. “Shoot, don’t nobody have to tell me about shit blowing up in my face.”

  “Huh, what are you talking about, E? Your life is freaking perfect,” I counter.

  “Girl, please, there’s nothing perfect about my life,” she sighs, falling onto the bed.

  “Okay, what the hell is going on? You’ve been acting real shady about Will and how married life is going ever since you arrived. Is everything all right?” Viv demands as she walks over to the bed and sits down beside Elise.

  “I just don’t know, y’all. This marriage thing isn’t what it’s cracked up to be—at all. It’s like, now that we’re married, Will’s developed this really nonchalant attitude about everything that concerns me. He’s so focused on his political ambitions, it’s as if he has no energy left for our marriage. I really feel like I have no identity except for being his wife. And, to make matters worse, my period is late,” she responds softly.

  “What the hell…” I start as I head over to the bed.

  “Oh yeah, girl, I’ve been going through it. This whole time I’m thinking that I’m so lucky because I’m finally out of the game and come to find out that winning isn’t nearly as sweet as I imagined. And now that there might be a baby involved, I just don’t know which way is up,” Elise continues.

  “Have you tried talking to him?” asks Viv gently.

  “Of course I have, but it just falls on deaf ears. I even tried talking to his mother, but her attitude was simply, welcome to the club. Apparently this is how all the men in his family behave,” Elise states simply. “To make matters worse, his mother made it very clear that if I don’t like it, there are a whole lot of women who will gladly take my place. So now I’m all paranoid, thinking that there’s someone out there trying to replace me.”

  “Damn his mother and her doomsday attitude. You don’t have to deal with that shit,” I respond sourly. “Even if you are pregnant, you still have choices.”

  “Girl, now you know,” she laughs bitterly. “About two weeks ago, I told William that if he didn’t have the energy to dedicate to keeping our relationship going then we should consider a trial separation. And, girl, he about freaked out. He knows the deal—not only will I leave, but I won’t look back once I’m gone. When I get home, we’re starting couples therapy. I’ll probably tell him about the baby then.”

  “Wow,” Viv exhales loudly. “I’d have never guessed. I just assumed that since you weren’t like the three of us, struggling to make our Vow a reality, you were better off.”

  “Yeah, well, hopefully we will be. I love my husband and plan to do everything in my power to work things out. I don’t need the moon and the stars to be happy with him. But the bottom line is, I’m not going to be the only one doing the work, especially if we have a little one on the way,” Elise states simply as she pulls herself up and forces a smile. “But we’re not here to worry about that or what some random people might say about your devastatingly sexy cover. We’re here to celebrate, so let’s get it popping!”

  “I know that’s right,” I say, refusing to let the entire mood be spoiled. “E, you call room service and order another bottle of Veuve for us and some fruit juice for you. I’m about to jump in the shower and start to get ready. Viv, you go see if Trista is out of the shower yet. We’re about to turn this party out!”

  “Okay, well, just remember y’all asked for it,” Viv responds with a grin.

  “Bring it on, hot mama, bring it on!”

  TWO HOURS LATER we pile into the limo and head over to the Hard Rock. I’m still salty with Trista for being so judgmental, but I decide to concentrate on having a blast. I’m with my girls, about to see a cute boy, and feeling good. There’s an unbelievable crowd of beautiful people milling around the lobby of the hotel. It’s showtime, baby!

  The promoter at the entrance immediately recognizes me and whisks us inside. The entire space is filled with photographers’ flashing lights, half-naked video girls, slightly familiar-looking male models, and Foxy’s Brooklyn crew. The music thumps loudly in my ears and with each step my adrenaline rushes higher. I feel like a total ghetto celeb as people stop, stare, and whisper. When we finally reach the roped-off VIP area, I spy Foxy and her girls laughing in the right corner. Out of respect, I head over and offer a quick hello while the girls settle into our booth. Turns out, Foxy is familiar with my last indie film, A Bad Bitch Rides in Harlem, and invites us to join her rowdy crew. I momentarily pause, thinking of Trista. In the cutthroat world of Hollywood everyone is subject to judgment by association: I’m sure rappers and hip-hop heads are not the type of company she wants to be photographed hanging out with. But then again, I’m the damn actress. Her place is behind the scenes. If I don’t care, then neither should she! So I graciously accept Foxy’s offer, turn, and signal to the girls to come on over.

  Turns out that Elise is actually a huge fan of Foxy’s, and Viv had what was one of the few decent interviews Foxy has ever given, so they are more than happy to keep the party going in the larger booth. Trista, on the other hand, looks totally annoyed and refuses to sit. She insists on heading out to the dance floor to wander around on her own. />
  “What is her damn problem?” I angrily inquire.

  “Girl, please,” Elise again tries to smooth everything over as a super cute Latin guy comes and pulls her up to dance. “She’s probably just going to go call Garrett and complain about how undignified we’re all behaving. Don’t even worry about it.”

  “Elise is right. Trista will be just fine,” seconds Viv as she nods her head at the cutie at the other booth raising his champagne glass in obvious appreciation of her fitted fuchsia dress. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m about to go get friendly with the natives.”

  As annoyed as I am, the sight of Vivian sauntering over to talk to a dude she wouldn’t give the time of day to if she were sober gives me a fit of giggles. Suddenly, a pair of very large hands cover my eyes from behind. “How you doing, miss?”

  “Mmm, just fine, thank you,” I purr as I remove the hands and turn to face Jamal. He looks good enough to eat in his blue-and-white button-up and dark-blue jeans. Whew, I love it when black men get their grown and sexy on!

  “What’s really good, birthday girl? You planning to play the booth all night or you trying to shake that ass for a player?” he dares me.

  “You know, this just so happens to be my jam,” I answer, rising to follow him out on to the dance floor. As I pass Elise and Viv, I nudge them to let them know that I’m headed out to the floor. They’re both so caught up dancing and having a good time, they barely notice. As we enter the crowd, I quickly scan to see if I can spot Trista. Mad as I am, I certainly don’t want her to get caught up in some shit without any of us around to help. Noticing my roving eye, Jamal spins me around to face him.

  “Scared your man might show up?” he jokes.