Millionaire Wives Club

by Tu-Shonda Whitaker

  Before Jabril could open his mouth, Jaise was standing in the doorway. She threw Jabril a look and said, “I got this.” She threw Trenton his clothes. “Get out! And don’t ever come back.”

  “What?” Trenton was caught off guard.

  “That’s my child,” Jaise said, “and I will not have you talking to him any kind of way.”

  “If you don’t go and sit your desperate ass down and behave you will find yourself manless.”

  “I became manless when I met you.”

  “Now you hittin’ below the belt, Jaise. Don’t call me beggin’”—he stood up—“because you know this is over, right?”

  “Did you just get the motherfuckin’ hint, or what?”

  “I tell you what,” Trenton snorted, “I’ma leave when I get good and goddamn ready to.” He flopped back down. “If you want me to leave, you’ll be moving me and this damn couch.”

  Jabril rose to his feet. “I will throw you and this couch out!” He grabbed Trenton by the arm.

  “Let me tell you somethin’!” Trenton turned around as if he were going to run up on Jabril.

  “Try it,” Jaise begged, “’cause we jumps motherfuckers up in here. So bring it and we gon’ whup yo’ ass!”

  “Please bring it on!” Bridget cringed. “I’m about to piss all in my pants.”

  “Ma, you ain’t got to argue with this wanksta,” Jabril said, shoving Trenton out onto the stoop, causing him to leave a trail of clothes and one of his shoes behind him. “And don’t bring yo’ ass back!”

  “This is some bullshit!” Trenton screamed, as Bridget and Carl rushed to the door to film him walking down the snowy street with nothing but his underwear on. “Trick!”

  “I got your trick!” Jaise opened the window and threw the remaining shoe directly at his head.

  “Don’t let me see you again!” Trenton screamed.

  Jaise watched Trenton disappear from sight and then she looked at Jabril. She knew that a thousand thoughts were running through his mind.

  Wrapped like a cyclone in a plush white terry-cloth robe, with nothing underneath, Jaise stood before her son, knowing she had to explain the best way she could that although she was his mother, she was also a woman, and the woman in her was what was so fucked up. “Listen, I’m trying, okay?” She felt tears bubbling in her eyes again. “And I really need you to swing this with me. I’m not perfect, and I know you’ve seen me dogged and fucked up, crying and carrying on. And I know I spent most of your life telling you not to be like the men I keep choosing, but I’m trying to get this right … I am … So,” she continued, tears sliding down her cheeks, “I just need you to give me a chance.”

  “You don’t have to cry, Ma. You know I got you.”

  She wiped her eyes. “I know, but I owe you more than my fucked-up choices and bad timing.”

  Jabril said, “I understand, Ma.”

  Embarrassed, Jaise quickly headed upstairs to her master bedroom, where she slid to the floor and once again cried herself into oblivion.

  After a few hours of succumbing to misery Jaise heard a light knock on her bedroom door. She wiped her eyes and the loose snot with the back of her hand. “Yes?” she yelled through the crack.

  “Ma,” Jabril said, “I’m ’bout to roll, ai’ight?” “And when are you coming back?”

  “A few hours. I just wanted to take this li’l honey to the movies, I mean the library.”

  “Yeah right. Just behave and be safe.”

  “Peace,” he said. Jaise heard him walk away, and then a few minutes later she heard him coming back. “Ma, maybe you need to go out and have a drink, on me.” He slid twenty dollars under the door. “I’ll hollah!”

  She could hear his feet thumping down the stairs as she smiled and laughed at his gesture. “That boy,” she said to herself.

  Jaise opened her bedroom door and the camera was pointed directly in her face. She knew she needed to say something about what had gone on today, but she didn’t want to talk about it too long, so she simply said, “Anything you see me do, don’t try it at home.” She closed her door again and sat on the edge of her bed, watching the clock and waiting for the camera to disappear.

  After a few hours, when everyone had gone, Jaise swore she could hear an echo of her own voice. “Hellooo … helloo… hellooooo,” she said. “Who is it?” she answered. “Okay.” She cleared her throat. “I’m really walking a tightrope here. My son is right. I need a drink.”

  She took out the black dress she’d teased Trenton with earlier, slipped on her three-inch Ferragamo heels, and adorned her ears with three-carat pear-shaped rose-colored diamonds and her wrist with a matching tennis bracelet. Afterward she made up her face with a hint of blush, MAC lipstick, and smoky eyes.

  On her way out she slipped on her short-waisted mink coat, grabbed the keys to her pearl white Bentley, and left.

  The Blue Mirror supper club in Jersey had quickly become Jaise’s favorite spot to hang out on lonely nights. It was intimate, classy, and the various jazz bands that played on the makeshift stage were always on point.

  Tonight Chandra Currelley and her band were singing and playing their lovely and timeless classics.

  Jaise sat on a stool at the bar, sipping a glass of white wine with her eyes closed while she drowned in the music. The more Jaise tried not to think, the more her mind became flooded. And just when she thought she’d mastered it, that all her thoughts and worries about being alone, about God answering prayers, and about moving mountains, were silenced, she heard “It’s lovely to see you again” drifting softly over her shoulder. Jaise instantly knew who it was. “Are you following me?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “But my answer would be no. Can you say the same?” she asked snippily.

  Bilal laughed slightly and Jaise couldn’t help but notice how sexy his laugh was. “Listen,” he said, “you’re too beautiful for everything that comes out of your mouth to be sarcastic and rough.”

  Jaise swallowed. She hadn’t even turned around and looked in his face yet, because she knew if she did it would be all over, and she was tired of being so damn easy. “So what you’re saying is you like your women weak?”

  “No. But the beauty of a woman is her stern softness. Her ability not to take any shorts, yet be a lady about it. So I don’t know what ole boy or whoever did to you, but don’t let him take you away from you.” He turned her around to face him. “Understand me?”

  Not knowing how to respond, Jaise said, “Would you like to dance?”

  Bilal’s smile lit up the place. “My pleasure.”

  Chandra’s sultry voice serenaded them as Bilal held Jaise and she laid her head against his chest. “I’m so tired,” she whispered as she ran her hands along the collar of his starched lavender shirt.

  “Tired from what?”

  She sighed. “I’m tired of stopping and settling, and hoping that one day I’ll meet the one.”

  “But you have to be patient and allow that to happen.”

  “It’s like I see these women and they look so happy with their men and their children … and I’m just like, Can’t I have some of that? Why do I have to go through hell just to get to heaven?”

  “Because you haven’t learned to yield. God likes patience.”

  Did he just say ‘God’? she thought. This was the first man she’d ever dated who had mentioned God outside of the bedroom. For a moment Jaise didn’t know what to say.

  “Are you alright?” Bilal swayed with her as the live jazz band’s music continued to play in the background.

  “Oh … yeah…I’m here, I’m okay,” she said, realizing that she was steadily being hypnotized. “So since you seem to know these things”—she gave a nervous chuckle—“then … you tell me, how do I yield?”

  “It’s easy.” He turned her around and brought her back to his chest. “You simply exhale. You don’t ask why, you don’t get upset when a situation doesn’t work out, you move on.”

>   “Interesting.”

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Jaise. Allow yourself to be loved, instead of being so hard-pressed to give your everything.”

  Jaise stopped dancing long enough to look into his face. “How do you know I give my everything?”

  “Do you?”

  Jaise didn’t answer. Instead she started dancing again. “Just enjoy the simple things.”

  “Is that what you do?” she asked him. “Is that why being in your arms feels so good?”

  “That’s a question you have to answer.”

  “I just keep thinking … that life was much simpler when I was living in a basement apartment giving rent parties.”

  “That’s funny. You giving a rent party. I can’t imagine.”

  Jaise hummed while she and Bilal danced quietly through the next couple of songs. “You sing?” Bilal asked Jaise. “My grandmother used to hum like that, and she had a beautiful voice.”

  “I used to sing when I was a kid. Nothing serious.”

  “I want you to sing for me one day.”

  “Hmm, maybe I will.”

  After they finished dancing they sat down, shared a few drinks and more conversation.

  “You are too funny.” Jaise smiled. “I never imagined my night would end like this.”

  “Well, I’m glad it did, considering how you were going off on me earlier this evening.”

  “I’m sorry, I was just going through some things.”

  “Alright.” He smiled and she realized he had dimples.

  “Well, I hate to leave,” she said, looking at the clock, “but I have to get home.”

  “I understand. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  Bilal held the door open and rain was pouring down. “Wait a minute.” He took his suit jacket and covered her hair with it. “Where’s your car?”

  She enjoyed the scent of his jacket. “Right out front.”

  “After you,” Bilal said as he walked Jaise to her car and opened the door for her to slide in.

  “Do you think,” Jaise said, pausing to watch the rain wash over him, “we could maybe do this again?”

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Bilal said. “You come and get me. No pressure, and on your watch. How’s that?”

  Jaise couldn’t believe it. Was this a joke and this mofo’s pregnant wife was due to come riding down the street in a minivan with a six-year-old kid screaming, “Get away from my daddy, tramp!” Or was this real and Jaise had simply been watching too much TV?

  She looked at his left hand, something she hadn’t done all night. No ring, but in this day and time, what did that mean? “Are you married?” She squinted her eyes.

  Bilal took a second too long to answer, and Jaise sucked her teeth. “I knew it was some bullshit,” she spat.

  “Bullshit?” He arched his eyebrows.

  “Bull … shit.”

  Bilal looked taken aback. “Since you had it pegged then why did you ask?”

  “Because for a moment there you seemed sincere. But I knew this was too good to be true. So tell me, does your wife know you’re standing here trying to bed me?”

  “Bed you? I don’t sleep with every woman I meet. I have to love a woman first. You should try that, it would eliminate so much hurt.”

  “And that means what relative to your wife and kids?”

  “Now I have kids?”

  “How many and how many mamas? I knew you were too fine. Listen, let me just go home. I’ve been down this track and I ain’t comin’ back.”

  “Well, what track is that?”

  “Sorry-ass men like you! You’re married and you don’t even have the decency to wear your ring. You have three or four kids all over the place, and all night long you’ve been in my face. Is that why you’re all the way over in Jersey, so you can mac across state lines. Pathetic! You probably have Connecticut sewed up too! A tristate player. I’m so tired of men and their shit.” She wiped invisible sweat from her brow.

  “You done?” Bilal arched his eyebrows. “Or should I give you a few more minutes to assume and make a fool of yourself?”

  “Oh, now you’ve turned to insulting me?”

  Bilal leaned into Jaise’s driver-side window, softly cupped her chin, and spoke against her lips. “I’m not married. If I were it would be my pleasure to wear my ring. I don’t have any children, and if I did I would never deny them. And I’m in Jersey at the Blue Mirror because I like it here.”

  Jaise felt stupid.

  “Now, if my treating you like a lady and enjoying your company is too good to be true for you, then you need to raise your standards.” He stepped away from her car. “So, I tell you what, when you get it together and you’re okay with being treated well, you let me know.” He tapped the hood of her car, walked away, and disappeared behind the swinging glass door.

  Jaise sat there for a few minutes and looked up the stretch of Elizabeth Avenue. Her eyes skipped from one building to the next. She thought maybe she owed Bilal an apology, but then again, maybe she didn’t. She started her car, took off down the street, and watched the Blue Mirror become a distant memory.

  Chaunci

  Chaunci looked at the creases along Edmon’s brow and knew that he was pissed. It had been two solid weeks since she’d last seen him, and not until now while they sat at the restaurant’s dinner table, did she remember that she’d forgotten about the date they’d made with the florist.

  Chaunci sucked the corner of her lip, and before she could decide what she should say to break the ice, Edmon said, “Don’t give me any fuckin’ excuses as to why I was waiting for you and you didn’t show up. Therefore, to avoid any and all confrontation, on Monday we have an appointment with a wedding coordinator.” Chaunci hesitated. “I won’t be able to make that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday are my days to be taped, and any other day besides those I’m either at the office, with Kobi, or stealing five minutes of some me time.”

  “Selfish shit.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “So what am I, an afterthought?”

  “You’re the one who didn’t want to be on the show.”

  “I want to marry you, not be your costar.”

  “Then you’ve gotten what you’ve asked for.” “I don’t understand why you would want to do something so cheap, ridiculous, and shallow anyway.” “That’s enough, Edmon.”

  “No, I’m serious. I gave you much more credit than wanting to be a talentless and desperate reality star.” Edmon stopped himself mid-sentence. Chaunci looked in his face and her eyes ordered an apology. “All I’m saying,” he continued on, “is that I didn’t give a nice share of my money to you for you to be frolicking around like some cable TV D-lister.”

  Chaunci couldn’t believe it; she was reduced to utter silence.

  “Fuck it,” Edmon continued on, “I may as well say it in laymen’s terms since you’re sitting there with a blank look on your face. The shit is stupid. And it’s taking up way too much of your time.”

  It finally clicked. This was why Chaunci couldn’t let her guard down long enough to love him. He was too judgmental, too demanding, and if something didn’t fit into his pristine world, then, like he’d just reminded her, there was no need for it to exist. “You are way out of line,” she said, doing her best to rein in her temper, because the next stop after cussing his ass out was flying over the table and fucking this yuppy motherfucker up.

  “I’m not out of line, I’m tired. Do you know how I feel sitting here? I’m the one who rescued you and supported your dream. Not the other way around. And here I am feeling like—like—you’re the man and I’m the damsel in distress.”

  “Fuck your chauvinistic ass.”

  “Damn, well, at least I know I’m not the only one you make a habit of cussin’ out,” Idris said, sliding a chair over from the neighboring table and sitting down. He held his hand out to Edmon. “Idris Lawson, my pleasure.”

  Chaunci couldn’t believe it. It
must be a full moon because she’d just cussed one asshole out and now she was making her way to reading two in one night. “Am I going to have to call the police on you?” Chaunci asked Idris.

  “Call ’em,” Idris said, taking out his cell phone. “And while we’re waiting on them I’ma order me something to eat.”

  “Who is he?” Edmon frowned.

  “Tell the man,” Idris said to Chaunci, “who I am.”

  “I’m not telling him shit.”

  “Well, then tell me why I’ve been calling you for weeks and you’ve been ignoring me.”

  “What the hell is going on here?” Edmon looked at Idris.

  Not wanting to make a scene, Chaunci did her best to maintain her composure and said, “Before I tear this motherfucker up, you better get out my face.”

  “Alright, you need to leave,” Edmon demanded.

  “Do I look like I scare easily? Man, please.” Idris looked back at Chaunci. “I wanna see my daughter.”

  “This is Kobi’s father?” Edmon was obviously shocked. “You told me you had no contact with him.”

  “I didn’t,” she said, “until Evan and Kendu’s charity event. And now much like a bedbug this motherfucker won’t go away.” She turned to Idris. “Didn’t I pay you your three hundred dollars back? Didn’t I? I thought so,” she said, answering her own question. “Now leave me the hell alone!”

  “Is everything okay?” The hostess walked over to their table and gave Chaunci a nervous smile.

  “Nah,” Idris said, “I ain’t ordered my food yet. I’ll have the rosemary shrimp and scallops. Oh, and some pork chops. I haven’t had that in a long time.” The hostess took Idris’s order and walked away. “So, while we’re waiting,” he continued, “give me a time and a date.”