Millionaire Wives Club

by Tu-Shonda Whitaker

  “I worry about that boy,” she said to Bilal.

  “He’ll be okay. He’s making a lot of good changes.”

  “Yeah, he is.”

  Bilal smiled as they got on the highway. “You know,” he said, “the other night we had a man-to-man talk.”

  “Really?” Jaise couldn’t believe it.

  “Yeah, he came up to the station.”

  “Jabril?”

  “Yes, your son.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He told me that he liked me and he thought I was cool, but that you were his mother and he loved you. That he’d seen you cry enough and that the next tear you shed he was gon’ kick ass behind it.”

  “Say that again.” Jaise whipped her head around.

  “You heard me. He told me if I wasn’t going to treat you right then not to come back again.”

  “And how long ago was this?”

  “Last week.”

  “And why didn’t you tell me that? I would’ve gotten in his ass about being disrespectful.”

  “Nah,” Bilal said, “we have an understanding.”

  “And what else did you two talk about?” Jaise asked as a smile lit up her face.

  “That’s between me and Jabril. Nothing bad, I would tell you that. But just some man-to-man things.”

  Jaise and Bilal laughed and talked about everything under the sun as they drove four hours to a docking station for the Martha’s Vineyard ferry. Jaise, Bilal, and the camera crew got out of their vehicles and looked at how beautiful everything was. From the crisp breeze to the blossoming branches on the trees.

  “They must be running a special on this,” Bridget said to Jaise, as Bilal walked over to one of the employees at the docking station, “otherwise this has to be his whole damn salary.”

  “You don’t know that,” Jaise said defensively.

  “I tell you what, it’s not much, but we have a little room in the van if you need to leave with us.”

  Before Jaise could respond Bilal walked over to her with a bewildered look on his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He started patting his back jeans pockets. “I can’t find …” he said, continuing to frisk his pockets, “my wallet.”

  “Oh hell no!” Bridget said. “Your broke ass’ll never set up me and my crew!” She snapped her fingers as Bilal ignored her and walked back to his car. “Carl, let’s go,” she said. “He pulled the old missing wallet trick.” She looked at Jaise. “You rollin’?” she said in a hurry, “’cause we’re outta here.”

  “I’m not leaving him here like that.”

  “Pathetic,” Bridget said as they screeched in reverse out of the parking lot, made a U-turn, and hauled ass back onto the highway.

  “Something is wrong with her,” Bilal said, walking back over to Jaise.

  “Did you find your wallet?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where was it?”

  “It had fallen under the seat. Are you ready to get on the ferry?”

  Jaise hoped she was hiding her hesitancy well. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” She smiled nervously.

  After a half-hour ride on the ferry to Edgartown, Jaise and Bilal were back in his car riding through the country roads until they arrived at what appeared to be a Norman Rockwell painting come to life. Set back three hundred feet from the entrance of the cobblestone driveway lined with weeping willow trees was a beautiful and well-restored hundred-year-old, red farmhouse with white wooden shutters, double screen doors, a winding wraparound porch with round pillars on each corner, two rocking chairs, a porch swing, and ceiling fans. The closer they got to the property the better Jaise could see the hanging gas lantern flickering above the doors.

  “This is beautiful,” she said as she noticed how oak and evergreen trees were growing everywhere. She could hear the ocean roaring behind the house and she could see a slight view of it from the side. She’d traveled all over the world and had seen some of the finer things in life, but she had never imagined that something so simple, yet so grand, could outshine all of them.

  “Bilal,” she said as they parked, “you didn’t have to rent this property.”

  “Okay,” he said, allowing her comment to dangle in the air. He walked to the back of the car and started taking the luggage out.

  “You could’ve … you know…,” she said, hopping out of the car and walking over to him, “just taken me to the movies.”

  Instantly he stopped what he was doing. “Think about what you just said. Did you really want me to just take you to the movies?”

  “Well…”

  “Whenever you say ‘well,’ that means no.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I know you.”

  “It’s just that this looks really expensive, and, I mean, come on, you’re not rich. And … because I am… I don’t want you to feel obligated—”

  Bilal placed Jaise’s suitcases on the ground and walked over to her. He placed his hands on each side of her and on the roof of the car. Looking down at her he said, “If I couldn’t afford this, if I couldn’t afford you, if I couldn’t afford anything that I wanted, then I wouldn’t have it. So get the thought that I’m a broke-ass cop out of your mind and enjoy me. I’m here, we’re here, and we damn sure ain’t here to do a buncha talkin’ because we can do that at home.”

  Jaise was so turned on by his forwardness all she could say was “Damn.”

  He kissed her and his tongue caused her nipples to harden. “Let’s go.”

  As they stepped onto the porch the double doors opened and a smiling and short-statured black woman in a maid’s uniform was standing there. “Sir, I didn’t expect you so soon.” She waved her hand, ushering them in. “Come on in here.”

  “Ma’dear,” Bilal said, “how’ve you been?”

  “I’ve been okay, but you and the mistress are early.”

  “Yeah, but it’s fine.” He pointed to Jaise. “This is my lady friend, Jaise. Jaise, this is Ma’dear. She oversees the property.”

  “Pleasure to meet you.” Ma’dear smiled. “Pretty girl,” she said, looking toward Bilal. “Well, sir, I’m going to leave now. I have the refrigerator stocked with all the groceries you like and the fireplace is started.”

  “Thank you,” he said as Ma’dear waved and walked out the door.

  “Sweet lady,” Jaise said. “Does she own this place?”

  “You startin’ again, Jaise?”

  “No,” she said, smiling because she knew that she was. “Not at all.”

  For the next hour Jaise and Bilal toured the house, and Jaise’s jaw dropped at all the spectacular views, especially when she stepped onto the balcony off the master bedroom and realized the back of the house sat atop a cliff and the ocean was below.

  “Jaise.” Bilal called her onto the terrace, where he had music playing softly and two glasses of champagne. “I need to ask you something.”

  “Yes?” She sat down at the table and wondered why there was a pear-shaped engagement ring floating in her glass. “Bilal…” It clicked. She looked at the ring and immediately tears filled her eyes. Jaise hated to cry, and truthfully she didn’t know if she was crying because of how crazy she was about this man or because she didn’t have the heart to tell him she didn’t wear fake diamonds—and a ring this size, coming from a man who drove a broke-down thirty-year-old car, would have to be fake.

  Bilal got down on one knee, and Jaise knew right away she would say yes. She didn’t know quite yet how she would adjust to everyday living, but if push came to shove, she could always get therapy for that.

  “You know I love you,” Bilal said, “and I want to share my world with you.”

  All twenty-five dollars of it, Jaise thought. “I know, honey,” she said.

  “So,” he said, taking her left hand, “will you marry me?”

  Jaise didn’t hesitate. She’d never been in love like this, and, besides, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t stashed any cash. This wa
sn’t about money; this was love. For the first time in her life something was about true love. “Yes, I will marry you!”

  “I know you’ll be giving up a lot,” Bilal said.

  Jaise couldn’t think about how much money she was about to give up, because then she would run the risk of telling Bilal no. “I’m gaining everything.”

  “Pretty much, especially since I’m worth ten times more than Lawrence.”

  “I mean, I can always work full-time, and Jabril is working. Wait a minute, what?”

  “I’m wealthy. Very wealthy.”

  “Excuse me?” Jaise took a step back. She was sure she had heard wrong.

  “I made a lot of money in the stock market before it went belly-up.”

  “But you’re a cop.”

  “I know, but I’m a cop because I want to be, not because I have to be.”

  “I don’t believe this shit,” Jaise said, pissed.

  “Wait a minute, are you upset?”

  “What the hell do you think?! This isn’t Comin’ to America. You acted like a broke ass for what?”

  “It’s just my style. I don’t let anyone know I have money. That’s why I brought you here to my house. I wanted to ask you to be my wife and show you all that I want to share with you.”

  “You took me on that raggedy-ass date, with that shit getting in my hair, grease spots on my dress? Do you know how much I paid for that dress? And then you scared me half to death driving up here, and all along you’re wealthy! Oh hell no.”

  “Does that mean you’re not going to marry me?”

  “I’m going to marry you because I love you, but I’m pissed as hell. Wait until Bridget finds out about this shit,” she said. “And you might as well find another car, because I will not ride one more minute in that broke-down jalopy.”

  “Don’t talk that way about Leroy, baby.”

  “Leroy needs to be donated to the junkyard for scrap metal.”

  Milan

  A fter the hospital gave clearance, Milan agreed to let Bridget and the camera crew follow her around at work and then ride home with her on the train. This view of her life was a far cry from the million-dollar apartment with the killer view that she had had when this whole thing started. This was sure to be one hell of a season finale.

  “Milan,” Bridget said to her as they exited the subway, “I want you to cry and scream when you walk through your apartment. Talk about the crackheads and the pimps that are your landscape. Geezus, I smell an A-list award.”

  “There are no pimps and crackheads who are my landscape,” Milan said. She took a deep breath. This was her last taping, and then she would be done with reality TV. Period.

  “This is reality TV,” Bridget snapped, “so get to pretending!” She walked behind Milan into the building and up to her apartment. The mixture of physical exhaustion from work and mental exhaustion from being on the show was wearing her thin. She could’ve sworn as she opened her apartment door that she smelled cigar smoke.

  As she closed the door behind her she heard a soft click and then she saw a pastel yellow stream of light on the wood floor. Instantly her heart jumped as she turned around and spotted Kendu sitting on the couch, taking a strong pull off his cigar and releasing the smoke into the air. From the look of things he’d been waiting for hours.

  “How did you get in here?”

  “Keys.” He tossed them across the room.

  Milan wasn’t sure why, but she started walking backward. The one time she needed Bridget to say something and intervene she was quiet.

  “How—how,” Milan stuttered, “did you get keys to my place? How did you know where I lived?”

  “I have enough money to get keys to the White House if I wanted to. But for now, this one-bedroom Church Avenue flat will do. So tell me, what the fuck you call yourself doing?!”

  “Can we talk about this later?” Milan’s heart jumped in her chest as she pointed to the cameras.

  “I don’t give a damn about those cameras anymore. Fuck it.”

  “Zoom in, goddammit!” Bridget yelled at Carl. “Get all in their faces with the camera.”

  “Where you been all night, Milan? Matter of fact, where you been for the last three weeks?”

  “Are you stalking me?” Milan asked nervously.

  “Answer my question!”

  “I was working!” she screamed. “Do you see what I have on?” She pulled at her nurse’s uniform. “And, furthermore, I’m tired, Knott. Did you think I was going to lie and wait in hell forever? No, I’m done.”

  “I can’t believe you gon’ move out on me, Milan. On me?”

  “What difference does it make, you didn’t want me! Every time I turned around it was Evan this and Evan that. Evan doesn’t give a fuck about you, I do. I love you. That bitch used you. You ain’t shit in her fuckin’ life.”

  “It wasn’t about Evan!” he yelled as he stood to his feet. “It was about my daughter. But you’re too fuckin’ selfish to understand that. I’ve been trying to get shit straight so that I could be with you. So that I could be the man you needed me to be.”

  “I laid there and waited for you for two fuckin’ weeks and you never called me, not even once. How long did you think I was supposed to be nothin’ in your life? I was fuckin’ you every night, and every day you were home with that bitch!”

  “Oh…my…God…,” Bridget said, stunned. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands as if in prayer. “Thank You for this Emmy.” She opened her eyes and looked around the room. “I’d like to thank the Academy.”

  “You damn right, that’s my wife and my daughter, and I don’t have to apologize to you for being with my family. You should’ve accepted your fuckin’ position instead of trying to be in competition. I swear to God, I’m glad I never married your ass.”

  As soon as Kendu said that, they both felt how fucked up it was. Kendu stood quietly and Milan felt her body crumbling to pieces. She stumbled out of her spot a little and then without warning she reared her hand back and with all her might she slapped him so hard that a spritz of spit flew from the center of Kendu’s mouth.

  Tears blinded Milan, and for a moment she started breathing as if she were asthmatic. “I don’t believe you just said that to me,” she said, as if finally starting to process everything they’d been through.

  “Milan.” Kendu reached for her hand and she snatched it back. “Wait, baby, we need to talk about this.”

  “Talk about this?” She laughed in clear disbelief. “Talk about what?” She wiped her eyes.

  “Us.”

  “There’s no us. We’re done. Go home to your family.”

  “Milan—” He reached for her again.

  “I swear to God, if you touch me again, I’ma smack the shit out of you.”

  “Don’t be like this.” He walked closer to her.

  “Fuck you, Kendu. Really.” Milan pushed him in his chest. “You think I love you enough to accept anything? You really think that Evan and Aiyanna are your family? You just don’t know. Let’s talk about this. So you really wanna talk? You really wanna talk to me? Okay, let’s talk about how your daughter ain’t yours. Let’s talk about how you’re standing here and you look like the dumbest motherfucker in the world to me right now.”

  “What you say about my daughter?”

  “That’s not your fuckin’ kid. You couldn’t even give her blood, and you know why? Because you’re not her damn daddy. Evan played the shit out your ass, and from where I’m standing you asked for the shit!”

  “Don’t say that,” he said quietly. “Why would you say some shit like that?”

  “Because it’s true!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Evan doesn’t give a damn about you. She doesn’t know who that damn child’s daddy is, but I can tell you one thing, I betchu she knows who the fuck ain’t her damn daddy.”

  “Milan,” Kendu said, backing her into a corner. She could see the pain in his eyes. And before she could wonder what it would be like to witness
Kendu’s strength folding to kryptonite, tears were rolling down his cheeks. He spoke quietly again, “So you knew and you didn’t say anything to me?”

  “It wasn’t my place.”

  “It wasn’t your place,” he said more to himself than to her. “It wasn’t your place. Everybody knew but me. What, y’all were laughing at me? Look at this fool. You hate me that much, Milan?”

  “Hate you?” She blinked. “Me loving you is what has me standing here.”

  “Yeah … I’m sure.”

  “Knott.” She reached for him.

  He took a step back. “Nah, it’s cool … I got this. Just give me a minute.” And he stormed out the door.

  Milan knew she’d messed up, and she knew he was too calm not to be ready to kill Evan. “Knott!”

  Milan ran after him and Bridget yelled, “Wait!” “The van is parked outside. You can ride with us!”

  “Evan!” Kendu yelled, bolting into the house, swinging the front door so wildly that he rattled the frame. “Evan!” He looked in the living room and she wasn’t there. “Evan!” He screamed as he ran down the corridor and into the kitchen, where he unwittingly bumped into her, causing her to spill the bottle of bleach and the cup of hot oatmeal in her hands.

  “What the fuck is that?” Kendu screamed. “What the hell are you doing?!”

  “Nothing,” Evan said nervously, “I was just—just—nothing.”

  Kendu paused and then snapped, “Were you going to feed her this? Have you been making her sick?”

  “Are you crazy?” Evan yelled. “Why would you accuse me of some shit like that!” She pushed him in his chest and he smacked her across the face.

  “I’ve had enough of you!” Kendu grabbed Evan by her collar. “You always fuckin’ tryin’ me. I should choke the shit out of you!”

  “Do it!” Evan held the side of her face. “Do it.”

  “I will.” Kendu sneered. “Right after you tell me this.” He grabbed Evan roughly by her chin and lifted her off the floor by her neck, the bleach that had splashed against his chest steadily turning his black hoodie white. “And don’t fuckin’ lie to me. Is Aiyanna mine?”

  Evan struggled to move her head, but there was no way she could speak with Kendu gripping her by the neck.