by Toya Wright
Since it was just two of them, chances were when they were home together, they would want to be in the same room. Trey wanted to impress his current and potential clients. He wanted them to see just how well he was doing which would make them feel more confident in his ability to represent them. Trey would have it no other way. Since he was handling the bills, Paris shut up about it.
They were so funny. The wedding was a tiny intimate ceremony with just Paris, Trey, and their parents. They wore the tiniest of wedding bands. These days, chicks get married and want the biggest rock to flaunt the fact that they have been taken off the market. Not Paris. That’s probably one of the things he appreciated about her. She seemed to be low maintenance. Her announcement to the shop was real matter-of-fact.
“Hey Paris!” The greeting was scattered around the salon on a Tuesday when she walked in.
“I’s married nah!” She held up her left hand. You could feel the wind as everybody snapped their necks to look at her.
“Whaaaaaaat?”
“No you didn’t!”
“When the hell did that happen?”
“I know you didn’t get married without me!”
“How about a congratulations, ladies?” Paris answered.
“Oh, yeah,” they clamored over to her to hug and kiss her, expressing their congratulations.
“Why did y’all just run away like that? What is there to hide?” A faithful customer asked.
“We didn’t run away. We just wanted to have something small and private.”
“That’s just a mess there!” the customer said.
“So, tell us about it, girl,” a beautician piped up.
“Well,” Paris smiled and signaled a client to hop in her chair, “we went to the courthouse yesterday. Our parents were there, that’s all we wanted.”
“All he wanted…”
“No, both of us,” Paris insisted.
“Paris, no little girl dreams of getting married in a damn courthouse.” The wash girl interjected. She stood in the middle of the salon with her arms stretched wide. “We grow up wanting to wear a beautiful, white, sexy princess gown with a veil saying ‘I Do’ in front of a room full of our friends and family. Then, feeding each other cake and shaking what our mamas gave us until it’s time to pop that thang for our new husband!” She bent over and shook her ass. She got hi-fives from the other stylists.
“While people talk shit about your dress…and what they would have done differently…and what your cake looked like…and how much money you spent?” Paris added, “Chile please! I’m not paying for y’all cheap heffas to talk shit about me and not even bring a gift!”
“You don’t call us cheap when we pay to sit our asses in your chair.” They all laughed.
He seemed sweet enough. From time to time, Trey would go into the salon just to say ‘hi’ or bring her lunch. He definitely caught the attention of the ladies when he did that. They dove into a talking frenzy when he left. He’d stroll on in, looking fly as ever, you know, business casual like.
“Here are some beautiful white gardenias to brighten up your day, Babe!” He would tease, hug her from behind and kiss her neck. “See you when you get home,” and just as quickly as he walked in, he was on his way out.
“Oooooh, girl!” The wash girl started, “I can’t even get my baby daddy to call just to say hi without asking for some ass.”
“I know that’s right,” a customer agreed.
“You got that nigga sprung girl!”
“Paris gon’ be running home to drop them draws!”
“He dresses nice too.”
“Thanks, Boo!” Paris was smiling from ear to ear.
“Maybe a little too nice,” a stylist said.
“What?” Paris put her flat iron down and looked at the stylist who made the last comment.
“I just said, he dresses too nice.”
“Why? ‘Cause you can’t see nuts hanging all out of skinny jeans that sag down to his ankles and wife beaters, he dresses too nice?”
“No, but he is wearing skinny slacks…I’m just saying,” the stylist hit Paris with the Kanye shrug.
“Shut up! You just hatin’ ‘cause ain’t no man coming up in here checking for you, Boo Boo, ok?” Another stylist chimed in backing Paris up.
“Yeah,” Paris said. “Let’s talk about the real issue. Your ass ain’t got no man in sight! Yet, you feel the need to pick apart my man. Do you want me to find you one like mine?”
“Paris, go on before I hurt your feelings,” the stylist sad.
“Whatever chick!” Paris said rolling her eyes.
“Right, whatever.”
Shortly after celebrating their one year anniversary, Paris became pregnant. She was excited, although just like anyone who is without kids, she was accustomed to being free. Having a child would pin her down to a schedule and she would have to cut down on the amount of clients she took. Trey was thrilled! He hoped that they had a daughter so he could dress her up and take her around with him.
Being that he had a number of his clients with him at any given time, Paris told him she didn’t think it was a good idea to keep their child in the streets with him, boy or girl. The sex was yet to be determined, but Trey stepped up even more. He’d call to check on her, see if she needed anything while at the shop. Whatever she said the baby wanted, he brought her at the drop of a hat. He calmed down his travel schedule and arranged for meetings to be done over the phone when possible so he could be there just in case something happened.
By the second trimester, Paris had cravings for green beans and lemon juice. Even the other moms thought that was a weird combination, but eating just about anything else made her throw up. With the exception of fresh fruit.
She had such a strong desire for lemon juice that she carried the small plastic lemons in her purse and squeezed so much in her bottles of water that the water was cloudy like lemonade. If Trey couldn’t get to her, he sent one of his athletes, friends, or even one of the guys who were hoping to get on his client roster.
Paris felt kind of strange having random young men coming to her job bringing her food and different treats. The guys, mostly being athletes and trainers, looked like beef-cakes with tight bodies sauntering their fine asses into the salon. Of course they commanded attention. The ladies went crazy, practically dropping their panties on the floor. Poor guys didn’t even realize they were about to slip in drool.
When they found out the sex of the baby was a girl, Trey got uber excited. He took over decorating the nursery. He told Paris not to worry about a thing! And she didn’t. Trey planned a shower and invited all the stylists from the salon, along with some of the clients. He even invited a few of his own clients and their significant others. He left no detail undone. Everything from the invitations to the centerpieces to parting gifts were in line with the signature Tiffany & Co. teal baby shower. Trey spared no expense embellishing the arrival of his future princess, much more than he did for his own wedding.
“Your husband did all of this?” Everybody was so surprised that a man would go to such a great length for a shower.
When Baby Amarii was born, nothing else mattered to Trey. Nothing. His whole world revolved around her. It was a surprise that he had made it past 30 without having any children, especially as a young, black man who was educated and had ends rolling in.
As new parents, everywhere they went, he wanted Amarii with them. At first it was cute, then it became kind of frustrating. Not that Paris didn’t want her daughter around, she missed being able to spend time with her husband. Paris felt like he could have easily let their nanny, Miranda watch Amarii so they could have some alone time. Trey felt that their baby should be with them as much as possible.
“How are you getting adjusted to mommy hood?” One of Paris’s clients, Niecey asked.
“People said I wouldn’t get any sleep, chile that was an understatement! I ain’t had sleep since sleep had me.” The ladies laughed.
“Be glad you
don’t have a colicky baby!” Another client yelled across the salon. “Those babies never shut up!”
“Amarii is a good baby. She’s not fussy at all, but her daddy doesn’t want to be without her.”
“It’s still new. Chile, trust me when I tell you it’ll wear off.”
“I don’t know ‘bout that one. He refuses to put her in a regular daycare. Trey only has a nanny in the house four days a week and half of the time, he lets her go home because one of us is home. Anywhere we go, Amarii has to come. I miss having alone time with my man.”
“She’s only a few months old, right?”
“Eight…eight months. I don’t think we’ve been alone since she was born. Literally. Amarii is always there.”
“Why don’t you plan something with just the two of you and tell him you made arrangements for the nanny to stay with the baby.”
“Thanks, I will. Now, let’s get into Shemika’s man slithering all up in Giselle’s DM’s.”
“Ooooh no ma’am!” the client said. She knew Paris was about to dish.
“Yes, girl! On Instagram. Giselle showed me Shemika’s man, Reshaud, trying to put in some work.
“O…M…G! What did the messages say?”
Paris held no punches. She told Niecey pretty much verbatim what the messages said. See what I’m talking about? Messy! She was talking low so others couldn’t hear her, but you can bet those other women turned on their supersonic hearing, Mr. Potato Head ears.
Paris was glad she vented to Niecey about her own situation. She listened to the advice. The next week, Paris made a reservation at one of Trey’s favorite restaurants. Every 10 minutes, he called or texted the nanny. He kept shifting his weight around in the chair as if he was uncomfortable, looking around nervously. It made Paris feel very awkward.
“Wassup with you?” she finally asked. She had done her best to overlook it, but she was bothered.
“What do you mean, Sweetie?”
“You acting all funny like the only thing that matters is Amarii. Ummm, hello? Your wife is right here!”
“I know, I know. But, I feel like no one can take care of your baby the way you do. I just want to make sure she’s ok.”
“You found Miranda. You hired her. Didn’t you have her checked out?”
“Yeah, yeah, got her to sign a confidentiality agreement…the whole nine.”
“Ok, Trey. Let’s focus on us. Just because we have a baby now doesn’t mean we have to lose who we are as a couple.”
The next week, Paris got dolled up. She let the owner of the shop hook her hair up and slipped into a cute dress that was blousy on the top and tight to show her hips and legs. Paris had always been curvy and she embraced those curves. She called into Trey’s closet where he was getting ready.
“Sweetie! Hurry up, Miranda will be here soon so we can go.”
“Oh yeah,” he started, “I told her to come with us,” Paris looked up in the direction of the stairs where his voice was trailing.
“Huh?”
“Yeah, I meant to tell you.”
“Why? I told you before that I had already spoken to her.”
“I think it’s cool if she comes to dinner with us. That way Amarii can be attended to, but we still get some time out of the house.”
“Hell no! Tonight was supposed to be our night! It’s not about Amarii being attended to, but giving us time to reconnect,” Paris urged. Ding dong!
Miranda was already at the door, she walked right in. Miranda was younger than Trey and Paris. She was happy to get the job and came highly recommended. The family she worked for before them moved out of the country. Visiting Europe was one thing, moving was another.
Miranda had a warm spirit and gave Amarii her full attention. She was also crunk that this job could potentially have her around ball players. She was banking on that, literally. She respected their marriage, wasn’t gunning for Trey, but his athletes were up for grabs. She was just a young girl trying to get on.
“Paris, how are you?”
“Good, Miranda. How are you?” Paris responded blandly to her blonde nanny, with an instant ‘tude.
“Ooh, I can’t wait to see where Trey takes us tonight.”
“We are going to Julio’s, I made arrangements for two. But, thank you for agreeing to stay here with Amarii.”
“Trey invited me to come with you all. Honey child, I want me some hibachi.” Paris stared at her obvious attempt to ‘sound black’.
“I made reservations for the two of us at Julio’s. That’s where we’re going, I’ll get you a gift card for hibachi.”
“Julio’s can wait!” Trey said, neither of the ladies heard him come down the stairs. Paris was pissed all over again.
“You taking her side over mine?”
“Paris, don’t be ridiculous. I want hibachi too, actually.” She didn’t even want to go anymore. Paris had to tell the girls at the shop to find out if her man was the only one who carried on like that.
The shop is where she came alive. She had to be there. Being around those girls had become her life. Trey and Paris were becoming more and more like roommates. Working around all those women gave her insight on her marriage. Wrong or right, she got to see how others thought.
“Alright y’all, check this one out. So last night, my girl made plans for her and her hubs to go to dinner. He paid for a babysitter to go with them so their daughter could still be with them on the date!” She spoke with an attitude of disbelief.
“Oh hell naw!” There was a collective groaning around the room.
“I know right?” Paris egged on. She needed to know what to think.
“No ma’am!” one of the stylists echoed.
“Why would he even want a babysitter there?” A client asked.
“Wait,” another stylist paused the convo. “So, let me get this straight. It was her…her husband…a babysitter and the daughter?”
“Yes!”
“Awwww!” The response was collective disappointment, yet again.
“Sounds to me like her husband don’t wanna be ‘round her,” the client said.
“Most men try to run away from their kids, not want to keep them around!” another client added.
“That’s bullshit. Something in the milk ain’t clean!” roared one of the stylists.
“Like what though? I thought it was messed up, but I didn’t know what to tell her.”
“He’s obviously trying to put some space between him and his wife. For what reason, we don’t know enough to know,” the stylist said.
“Hmmm.” Paris sat in her chair and spun facing the mirror. She was mad at herself for not stepping up and handling the situation then, she should have put her foot down. She would rather just roll with the punches than have him upset at her; but, something had to be said.
The conversations swirled around her. She was so naïve to what was going on in her marriage. She just couldn’t put her finger on the problem. She did know that she was not happy. He had to be screwing another woman, she just had to find out who it was. Then do what? What was she going to do? She wasn’t going to leave. They had a young child and she was still in love. Paris needed to make herself more irresistible.
When she got home that night, Paris mentioned the whole date fiasco to Trey. He brushed her off and told her she was making a big deal out of nothing. He told her to just chill out because they spent time together at home so missing one date night was not going to hurt them. He assured her the next one she planned would be just the two of them.
It wasn’t. The nanny seemed to be coming around more and more. She asked him if he was afraid to be alone with her, since there seemed to always be another body around. When Paris raised hell about it, Trey started spending more time away from the house. Working. It’s like she couldn’t win for losing. She wanted to continue to strengthen the bond with the husband who insisted on not being alone with her. When she complained about it, he spent more time away. Paris was losing the friend she thought she ha
d.
Trey’s job as a sports agent could have been done anywhere. He had done well for himself and set up a nice, cozy office in the house. Everything he needed was there. Computers, fax machine, printers, cameras to have meetings where he could actually see the people he spoke to.
The people, however, were not there. He had to be in the field to gain the trust of recruits to take them from being potential clients to signing with him. Meeting with coaches, team owners, and managers always worked better over golf or scotch. He directed more of his attention to traveling.
Miranda was down for the cause. He planned his trips to be day trips or maybe stay over one night. He didn’t take Amarii to the course with him, but she was in a room nearby. Paris wasn’t exactly thrilled with him taking the baby on business trips. However, she was in good company with the nanny, so it wasn’t too bad. It gave Paris a much needed breather.
He clearly wasn’t interested in working on their marriage. Not work in the sense that they were having problems, but work in the way of investing time and effort in maintaining their connection. They didn’t talk much anymore, surely weren’t kicking it anymore and the sex…forget about it!
Paris couldn’t understand why he seemed to be so turned off. Their sex life had been on point. Then things started to become sporadic. So sporadic that Paris started keeping a log of every time they had sex. It was ridiculous. Once a month! If that! What man only wanted sex from his wife once a month? It was bad enough having to deal with the physical changes that accompanied becoming a mother, he sure wasn’t doing anything to reassure her that she was still attractive in his eyes.
She figured she’d work on her body. Paris joined a local boot camp workout. Exercise was going to be her new best friend. It was tough finding the time, but she rushed out of work yelling, “Gotta go get my sexy on girls!” She was dedicated to working out twice a week and drinking fresh fruit smoothies in the morning for breakfast. The first 20 pounds shed off easily, then it tapered off. Still with a goal of 15 pounds left to lose, she was already feeling herself. Her attitude showed it.