by Tracy Brown
They all cheered, clinked glasses, enjoyed their drinks, and shared Camille’s dessert. It was nights like these that solidified their friendship. Despite their differences, they had one another’s backs. And that would prove to be more important than any of them knew at that moment.
Stepping-stone
Misa lay on her side in Baron’s bed, her back facing the doorway. She was in so much pain that she dared not move. She had finally positioned her bruised body in a way that gave her some relief from the throbbing aches. Baron had done a number on her this time. He had erupted in a fury so violent, Misa had been caught off guard.
Baron appeared in the doorway and saw her lying in the fetal position. He felt guilty for taking his frustrations out on Misa the way he had. They had been having one of their usual hot sex sessions and, as he’d done countless times before, Baron was choking Misa. This time, he had to admit, he may have been more aggressive about it as he thrust himself in and out of her, squeezing her throat with one hand while watching her try in vain to gasp for air. He had been strangely turned on by her inability to breathe, felt a power that he thoroughly enjoyed. As he got caught up in that feeling, Misa was struggling for air and she had reached up and clawed at his face, scratching him and drawing blood. Angry, Baron had slapped her hard across her face. Misa had hit him back and before he knew it, Baron had reacted viciously. He had punched and kicked Misa until she began to cry and beg him to stop. Instead of feeling sorry for her, Baron was aroused and laughed at her sinisterly as he forced her into a prone position and violently entered her from behind. Misa had howled in pain as he pummeled her anally, and the more brutal he was, the louder she screamed. When he was finally done with her, he’d coldly left her crying in a heap of messy sheets and pillows while he got up, got dressed, and walked out the front door. Misa had lain there for hours this way, wondering what to make of the man she wanted so badly to be Mr. Right.
Now, as he reentered the bedroom and saw her there, he shook his head. This was the kind of behavior that had caused him to lose Angie. Here he was doing it again, taking his anger and frustrations out on a woman. He walked over to the bed and touched Misa’s rumpled hair. She cringed, partly out of fear that he was back to hurt her some more and partly because her head was sore where he touched her. He sat down beside her and cleared his throat.
“Look at me.”
Misa bit her lip hard as she turned slowly to face Baron, her head throbbing the entire time.
He looked at her and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said flatly. “I spazzed out ’cuz you never should have scratched me like that.”
Misa was stunned. Was he blaming her for this? “You were choking me,” she said softly, not wanting to set him off again. “I couldn’t breathe.”
Looking at her bruises, he shook his head. He could never let Camille see her like this. Frankie would kill him. “Well, like I said, I’m sorry.” His voice was emotionless, but he was smiling at Misa so she relaxed slightly. “I want you to stay here with me for a couple days. I’m sure Camille will look after your son. It’s Columbus Day weekend, anyway, so she won’t mind.”
Misa shook her head, still in pain. “No. I need to get home to Shane.” She really wanted to get the hell away from Baron after what he had done to her.
He took a deep breath and looked at her. There was no way he was letting her go home to Staten Island looking like Tina Turner after one of her fights with Ike. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two jewelry boxes, one larger than the other.
Misa couldn’t help but smile. “For me?”
He nodded. “I saw these and I couldn’t decide which one was beautiful enough for you. So I just bought them both.” He smiled back at Misa, and handed the boxes to her.
Misa reached for the bigger box first. Opening it, she gasped. Two brilliant diamond bangles sparkled back at her and her smile spread even wider.
“Oh my God, Baron! These are gorgeous.” Misa was nearly breathless as she eyed them.
Baron was happy that his apology was working so far. “Open this one.”
Misa took the smaller box and slowly opened it. She peered inside and looked at Baron questioningly. “What is this?” she asked, pulling the diamond ring out of the box. Her heart jumped as she wondered whether Baron was proposing to her.
“It’s a ring,” he said. “Just a ring. Don’t get excited.”
It was too late for that. Misa was already excited as she put it on. “What does it mean?”
He shrugged. “Just means that you’re special. And I care about you.”
The ring was stunning and Misa didn’t care if it wasn’t a proposal of marriage. “I love it.”
Baron kissed her softly. “Good. I’m glad.” He paused for a moment, looked in her puffy eyes. “You sure you don’t want to stay for the weekend?”
Misa thought about it. She looked at the ring on her finger and the bangles and shrugged. She had to admit that she wanted to stay. Baron was fine! He was paid, powerful, and as long as she was on his arm, she would be paid and powerful, too. She could give Shane the life she hadn’t had growing up. She could stop sponging off Camille and make her own way, have her own money and respect. But right now she was still very afraid of Baron. “I think I need to leave,” she said. “I need to go home and take care of Shane.”
Baron looked at her, his green eyes seeming to plead with her. “Call Camille,” he said. “Ask her to watch him for you. I want to take you with me to Miami for a few days.”
Misa would have jumped up and down had she not been so sore. “Miami?” she asked, fighting the urge to smile. She pictured them on a beach together, coupled up. Her and fine-ass Baron! She cleared her throat. “I’ve never been there before.”
Baron smiled. “Good. Let me take you there for a few days. Get you a massage, some rest, and we can get to know each other a little better.” His smile faded. He looked down at his hands and then back at her. “I’m not a monster, you know.”
Misa didn’t move. She didn’t dare respond, either, out of fear that he might snap again.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you like this, Misa. And I won’t put my hands on you again. I promise.”
Misa wanted so badly to believe him. She thought again about the idea of flying away with Baron for a little while. “Okay.”
“Call Camille and then come and take a bath with me.” Baron left the bedroom and Misa’s heart raced with excitement. She thought about what happened as she called her sister. True, Baron had gone too far. But he had made up for it with the beautiful gifts he’d given her. Plus he’d said that she was special, that he cared about her, and now they were flying off to Miami. This was the type of shit she’d dreamed about. Misa figured that maybe she shouldn’t have scratched him; maybe she should never have let him start choking her in the first place. She rationalized that she may have been partly to blame for how Baron had reacted. And she forgave him. After all, he was Baron fucking Nobles, and that meant that she and Shane were on the verge of a wonderful life. Baron was the key to her happiness. If she could get him to settle down with her, Shane could go to the best schools and they could move out of her humble home and into this opulent one. Shit, she decided, Camille wasn’t the only one deserving of a fairy tale.
Camille knew that she’d been drinking too much lately. Last night, she’d passed out after downing an entire bottle of Hennessey White she’d brought home from some long-ago trip to Jamaica. Shane had awakened bright and early the next morning as he usually did. But Camille had been snoring away in a drunken stupor. Thank goodness Steven had come over early and had given Shane some cereal and turned on his favorite cartoons. When Camille had finally shuffled downstairs feeling like a heap of shit, she’d found Steven playing hide-and-go-seek with a giggling Shane.
“Thanks, Steven,” Camille mumbled. She pulled her robe tighter around her bulging frame and wished she could just crawl back into bed. Damn Misa! She was off frolicking in Florida while Camille was
left to care for her kid. “I’ll take over from here.”
Steven looked at his sister-in-law and laughed a little. Miss Goody Two-shoes was really starting to break down. He had noticed that Camille was spending most of her nights hitting the bottle and listening to sad songs. While his brother, Frankie, was out doing his thing, his wife was falling apart at home. Steven felt kind of vindicated. Frankie had reached a level of success that Steven knew he would never reach. Frankie had gotten out early, escaped the cruel punishments their father had dished out at whim. Frankie was the man, everybody knew that. So, Steven rode his brother’s coattails. He knew that someday the façade of his brother’s “perfect” life would come crashing down around him. On the surface Frankie B had the perfect looks, the perfect wife, home, cars, and connections. Steven suspected that it wouldn’t always be that way, and those suspicions were starting to ring true. Not that he wanted his brother to fail. Steven had a lot of love for Frankie. But growing up in his shadow had been far from easy. Plus, Steven had his own demons to deal with. And somehow living in the splendor of Frankie’s home seemed to make those demons easier to battle.
“You look like you need to sleep some more,” he said to Camille. “Frankie went to Nobles’ house. He said he’ll be home in time for dinner.”
Camille looked crestfallen. “Frankie was home? He left?”
“Yeah. He’s gonna wanna eat when he gets home. What you making?”
Camille felt sick at the very thought of food.
Steven laughed. “That’s what I thought. Go lay down and I’ll order food from the Italian spot we like.”
Camille noticed that Steven was becoming more and more comfortable in their home instead of utilizing the guest house. The Italian spot we like. Steven was starting to become too much of a fixture in her personal space. She didn’t care that their home was large and lavish. It was hers to share with Frankie—alone—until the day when they decided to have children.
But as her stomach went topsy-turvy, she looked at Shane. He was jumping up and down in the middle of the floor, yelling, “Come and find me, Unca Steben!” The child was bubbling over with energy and Steven seemed to finally have something productive to contribute to Camille’s life.
She nodded. “Okay. Wake me up at three.” She shuffled back upstairs to bed and was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.
Three days later, Misa came home and she couldn’t wait to see Shane. It had only been a few days since she’d dropped him off and headed for Miami, but she missed her son like crazy. She put her Louis Vuitton luggage in her bedroom and plopped down on the couch to call Camille.
As the phone rang, she couldn’t help but marvel at all the things Baron had bought for her. In addition to the diamonds and the luggage, he had purchased an entire wardrobe of beautiful clothes for her, since she hadn’t had an opportunity to go home and pack anything. They had stayed at a lovely beach resort on Collins Avenue and Baron had been gentle and kind toward her. She was feeling brand new and ready to begin a deeper, more meaningful relationship with him.
Steven answered the phone and Misa frowned. “Hi. Put my sister on the phone,” she said, hurriedly.
“Your sister is asleep,” Steven said. “You wanna talk to Shane?”
“Asleep?” Misa frowned. It was well after one o’clock in the afternoon. It wasn’t like her sister to lounge around this late. She reminded herself that Shane could be a handful, and shrugged. “Okay . . . well . . . I’ll be by there to pick him up in about an hour.” She hung up and began to unpack. Before she went back to being a mommy she wanted to bask in the glow of being Baron’s wifey for a little while longer.
She pulled out a negligee she’d worn on their second night in Miami. Misa smiled as she recalled the way that Baron had looked at her when she emerged from the bathroom wearing the short lace nightgown. He’d been so gentle with Misa while they were away, and had toned down his violent tendencies during their sex sessions. True, his anger had resurfaced when he was dealing with some Spanish drug dealers on their first night in Florida. Baron had grabbed one of the men by the throat during a heated argument over money in their hotel lobby. Misa had felt oddly proud watching Baron menace the men in their own hometown. She had never witnessed anything like it, and when he got his way and the men delivered what Baron wanted, he had spent the rest of their trip lavishing her with clothes, cash, and jewelry. His mood had changed for the better, and she was hopeful that it would stay that way.
Now that they were home, Misa wondered how things would be between them going forward. She had visions of being one big happy family—her, Baron, and Shane—and she was willing to do whatever it took to make that dream a reality.
The Fabulous Life
“Check this out,” Lexy said, handing Toya a Nanette Lepore blouse. Alexis “Lexy” Lassiter was one of New York City’s top celebrity stylists. She worked with all the A-listers, and was in such high demand that Dominique had had to pull every string she had in order to get this appointment with her. Toya’s trip was a week away and they had no time to waste. They had already picked out a Tracy Reese dress, Tory Burch sandals, and a pair of Bottega Veneta sunglasses. But they still had a lot of work to do.
“I like this!” Toya proclaimed, holding the canary-colored fabric in her hands. “What else you got?”
Lexy pulled out a Cavalli dress, which Toya snatched up as well. After grabbing a pair of Moschino jeans, an Allen Schwartz minidress, and a Marc Jacobs sheath, they were finally done. Toya couldn’t believe that all of this shit was free! All Dominique had to do to get it was agree to use Lexy solely as the stylist for the new “it” R & B sensation Kiara. It was days like this that Dominique loved her job. After securing a Dolce&Gabbana dress and Versace pantsuit for herself, they were done. They felt high as they stepped out onto Fifth Avenue and hailed a cab.
Once inside, they giggled like schoolgirls. “That was fun!” Toya exclaimed. “You do that shit all the time?”
Dominique shook her head. “Not really. I try not to take advantage of my position too much. But every now and then if I need something for a special occasion or for a special trip, hell yeah!”
“Damn, you’re lucky! I just walked out of there with like eight thousand dollars’ worth of clothes, and we didn’t come out of pocket at all! I’m not used to shit like that.”
Dominique smiled, happy that Toya was pleased. It was hard to impress Toya. She already had a fabulous wardrobe, drove a luxury car, and lived in a beautiful brownstone. As a high-end real estate agent, she was accustomed to the finer things in life. But paying for expensive things and getting them for free were two entirely different things. Dominique was happy to share her good fortune with her friend. As they pulled up at Waverly Inn, an exclusive New York City eatery, both women were euphoric. There was nothing as satisfying as retail therapy.
They were seated right away, since the place was relatively empty on a Wednesday afternoon. They ordered and sat back, and Dominique felt strange. “It feels weird being here without Misa and Camille,” she said.
Toya rolled her eyes. “Oh, Lord.” She waved her hand, dismissing her. “Not to me. I’m sick of hearing Camille’s naive ass talking about how Frankie is so wonderful, being married is so wonderful, and how she feels so fuckin’ sorry for us. Please!”
Dominique waited until the waitress set their drinks down on the table and left before responding. “You think Frankie’s cheating on her?”
Toya looked at Dominique like she was crazy. “You can’t be serious. He’s definitely fucking Gillian, and Camille is too dumb to see it. Personally, I don’t think she cares. In her heart of hearts, that bitch knows he’s cheating. But would you say a muthafuckin’ word if you were living in that house and sleeping with that sexy son of a bitch and you had a Bentley parked in your four-car garage? You would play dumb, too.”
Dominique laughed. “Ya damn right I would! He could fuck that bitch on the bed next to me and I wouldn’t say shit.”
&nb
sp; Toya laughed. “That’s ’cuz you don’t love him. And if I were Camille, I wouldn’t love his ass, either. I would never love a guy like that. When you’re dealing with a man of Frankie’s caliber, you can never get your feelings involved. Never. That’s rule number muthafuckin’ one.”
Dominique nodded, cosigning. “True. But women can’t turn their emotions on and off like that.”
Toya almost spit her drink out in her haste to respond. “Who can’t?” She shook her head. “I don’t deal with emotions at all! Those days are over.”
Dominique smirked. She knew that Toya liked to come across as rough and tough. But she suspected that underneath that steely exterior lay a soft and pink side. “You can’t help who you love,” she said.
Toya wanted to throw up, but resisted the urge. “You have so much to learn.”
“Seriously, Toya. I love Jamel. And I can’t even help it. I try to tell myself to put the brakes on and try to slow down and not get too serious about him. But that doesn’t work. When I’m with him I feel complete. I know he’s the one, so why should I fight it?”
Toya wasn’t sure if she should slap her friend or put her in a straitjacket. She stared at Dominique intently for a long time before she spoke. Finally, she said, “You know what, Dominique? I worry about you. All this time that we’ve been friends . . . all this time . . . you’ve been watching how I get down. So even if you were a dumb bitch before you met me, by now you should know better. What the hell do you mean, ‘you can’t help who you love’? What the fuck part of the game is that?”
“I’m saying—”
“You ain’t saying shit! That’s the problem.”
“ ’Cuz you won’t let me get a word in, Toya!”
“For what? So you can say some more dumb shit?” Toya saw a look of hurt pass over Dominique’s face and felt slightly guilty. Dominique was saying dumb shit, but Toya knew that she needed to have more patience with her friend. But times like this and statements like that made it hard for Toya to keep her mouth shut.