Disrespectfully Yours

by Raynesha Pittman

  In her honor, every guest in attendance wore black or gold, which were Meagan’s favorite colors. An oversize black-and-gold bejeweled throne had been built behind her cake and gift table for the queen of William’s heart, and it was called just that. Meagan stood in front of her throne as the song came to an end, and like magic, a single candle was lit atop the smallest tier on her cake. She took a moment to make a wish and then blew it out. Simultaneously, confetti fell from the ceiling, and the crowd roared, “Happy birthday!” She was speechless and refused to take the microphone when her husband held it out to her. Instead, she mouthed a tear-filled thank-you and sat on her throne.

  “I just want to take a second to thank all of you for coming out to help me celebrate the love of my life’s birthday. Y’all have her speechless, which we all know is very hard to do.” William laughed. “She’s such a beautiful woman, isn’t she?”

  The crowd screamed and clapped in agreement.

  “My life is nothing without her. Please believe me when I say that. Georgia Peach’s would still be a dream in the back of my mind if it weren’t for Meagan pushing me to bring it to life. We’ve gone from a small diner in Albany, Georgia, to five major city locations, and we’ve been voted number one in Atlanta again this year. It’s all thanks to her. I know I’m talking y’all’s ears off and you’re ready to get back on the dance floor, but let me say one more thing, and I promise to let y’all go. When my first wife died in that car accident feet away from my diner, with Meagan’s mother in the car, I died. And I’m sure Meagan did too. I thank the Lord every day for allowing us to resuscitate one another in His love. Meagan, my beautiful Georgia Peach, can I please have this dance?”

  William held out his hand, Meagan took it, and he led her to the dance floor. The piano started playing, and then the rest of the band joined in. In a voice not as powerful as Patti LaBelle’s but just as beautiful, the singer began singing “If Only You Knew.” Meagan placed her head on her husband’s shoulder, and they danced alone for the first verse. Then William invited everyone to join them on the dance floor. He turned off his microphone, which gave Meagan the opening she was looking for.

  With her lips pressed closely against her husband’s ear, she said, “Muthafucka, this is my night. Don’t you ever steal my joy again by shining light on your ex-wife’s and your side bitch’s deaths. You sounded sad about it, too, like if the bitch hadn’t died, you weren’t about to leave her for me. Those hoes’ deaths prevented you from having to break their hearts. You should be glad that you were saved from the agony of doing it. I am.”

  “Watch your tongue, little girl. It takes only a side step to get you in my office to fix your mouth. Let me remind you of one thing. I wanted to divorce Clara. I didn’t want her dead. I am still sad about it, and about the loss of your mother too.”

  “Fuck them both. May they rest in shit.”

  William shrugged so that Meagan’s head would no longer rest on him; he needed to look in her eyes. Her eyes never lied, and the hate he saw in them now forced him to get the hell away from his wife quickly so as not to attract attention. He pecked her on the cheek and disappeared in the crowd, leaving her standing there with a painted-on smile. Before she could formulate a thought, men started approaching her and asking for a dance. She wanted to decline, but it was her party. Why should she let the senior citizen who was consumed by his feelings ruin it?

  The live entertainment ended, and a DJ took over. He was killing the ones and twos. He mixed hip-hop with the oldies track the artist had sampled from, and R & B with the jumpy beats of reggae music, and the crowd loved it, but nobody more than Meagan. She was feeling it and danced herself right out of her heels, leaving them behind without a care that they might go missing. Meagan was in a zone, and the music had her lost in it. She didn’t realize it, but she was now on the dance floor, dancing by herself.

  “Y’all looking good out there tonight, Atlanta,” the DJ said into his microphone. “Georgia Peach, I need you on your feet for this one. Where’s the birthday girl at?”

  Meagan threw her hands in the air and screamed out, “I’m right here.”

  “There she goes, looking all good and shit. Black don’t crack, and that body ain’t slacked,” the DJ announced. “Happy birthday, Peach. This one is dedicated to you.”

  The DJ mixed two familiar tracks, and then a beat dropped that Meagan wasn’t familiar with. A woman’s voice came through the speakers, and instantly, Meagan was feeling the hook. The artist was signing about holding her man down while the checks piled up. She had never heard the song before, but the voice and the rhythm had her hooked. Meagan’s body swayed to the beat, and she loved the feeling it gave her until she realized that the male voice that was now singing belonged to Devin. She stood frozen on the dance floor as she scanned the room for her lover, but to no avail. She raced to the DJ’s booth as she listened to her and Devin’s love story being told through his lyrics, and she damn near died when he ended the first verse with “I love you, Tammy. You’re the one.”

  “Switch the track now,” Meagan calmly told the DJ, somehow maintaining her composure, but he was conversing with someone and didn’t stop to acknowledge her.

  “It’s some young cat named Devin, but he goes by Young Diablo,” the DJ said to a guy who was wearing too much gold jewelry.

  “If he isn’t signed, tell him we want him. Here’s my card. See that he gets it. And if you make it happen, I got a finder’s fee of two racks for you.” The record executive handed the DJ his card.

  The DJ nodded. “I don’t know the guy, but I’m on it. Somebody just handed me his CD and said it was for her.”

  “Who?” Meagan and the executive said in unison.

  The DJ scanned the crowd and then pointed in the direction of the restaurant’s entrance. “That’s the cat who gave it to me right there.”

  Meagan turned her head and gazed in the direction in which he was pointing, and there was her limousine driver. He held up a glass of champagne in her direction before he took a sip from it.

  Meagan stopped a waitress who was carrying a tray of champagne-filled glasses, snatched one up, and mirrored his toast. She killed the glass in a single swallow, never taking her eyes off him, and then mouthed, “You’re dead.”

  He gave her a devilish smile and then mouthed, “I can’t be dead. I’m just the help,” before he walked back out the door.

  Chapter Two

  Meagan’s night had been ruined, and she was ready to go, but she managed to mingle with her guests for an hour more as she looked for her husband. Once she realized he was gone, she asked a few of her employees from her agency to help her carry her gifts to the limo. Her car door had barely closed when she laid into her driver’s ass.

  “What in the fuck do you call yourself doing, Angelo?” she yelled.

  He laughed. “Damn. We’re on a first-name basis now?”

  “We ain’t on shit. Where did you get that CD from? And why did you feel the need to give it to the DJ and have him play it?”

  “Aw, don’t play stupid, Tammy.” Angelo tried hard to get serious, but the shit was too funny, and his words came out in between his laughter. “Your little boyfriend, Devin, gave it to me and made me promise that I would play it for you once you got in the limo this morning, but it slipped my mind. Since you’re firing my ass tonight, anyway, I thought I should make good on my promise to him and fuck with you a little bit.”

  Devin had decided to break their rules in honor of her birthday. He had promised never to give her a gift, and she had told him that they would never go out. They had a sexual relationship only, and even speaking about it was against the rules, but he was slowly getting her to break that one. He had invested long, expensive hours in the studio, putting the song together, to give it to her as a birthday gift. The hardest part of all had been figuring out a way to give it to her so that she couldn’t reject it, and so he had asked her limousine driver for help. He had given him fifty dollars to play the song as
he drove her around that morning and to tell her happy birthday for him once she caught on that it was him rapping. Devin was determined to melt the lock on her heart one way or another, and Angelo had used the token of Devin’s love to get revenge for her acting like a bitch.

  “Fuck you, him, and your promise. Do you know what you could have done to my marriage if my husband had been there?” she screeched.

  “No disrespect, but I don’t give a fuck about you or your marriage. You don’t even give a fuck about your marriage, Tammy. Sorry to be blunt, but remember, I’m unemployed after this trip unless . . .”

  “Unless what, muthafucka?” Meagan asked as she made her way to the seat next to the partition.

  “Unless you’re going to let me keep my job as your driver in exchange for me not telling your husband about all the places I’ve taken you, and the niggas you’ve fucked in the past two months in the backseat of this here limo. I mean, I do like my job, and since you’re going to up my salary, too, to keep my mouth shut, I think it’s a win-win situation. What about you?”

  “You gutter rat. You think you can just blackmail me and I’ll agree? Who’s to say I care if you tell? I got dirt on my husband that will stop him from divorcing me, anyway. I’ll pass on your deal. Take me to my house. You’re fired.”

  Angelo stayed silent, but the smile on his face never moved. His mind was racing because his surefire way of keeping his job had just proved to be useless. He had dirt on both the Tollivers, but he liked Mr. Tolliver more. Besides the fact that he was beating his wife, Mr. Tolliver was more respectful and friendlier than his wife, and he tipped well. Angelo had one more shot at keeping his job, and if it didn’t work, he’d say fuck it and call the company he worked for to get back on the driving schedule.

  “You’re right. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have tried to blackmail you to keep my job. I should have tried the shit with your husband. He has way more to lose, if you knew the shit he did and said in the limo.”

  “Like what?” Meagan didn’t mean to respond that fast, but her reflexes took over, as Angelo prayed they would.

  “Never mind, Mrs. Tolliver. It doesn’t matter. I’ll get you home and be on my way. I apologize for the stunt I pulled at your party. Happy birthday.”

  “Hell no! You can’t just say, ‘Never mind,’ after saying that shit. I need to know now.”

  Angelo continued to drive silently. He had already told himself to be patient with the information. If she wanted to know anything, she’d have to ask him three times, and even then, she’d have to let him keep his job before he’d feed her any information.

  “Don’t play deaf now, asshole. I’m waiting.”

  That’s twice, he thought, still staying tight-lipped.

  Meagan waited a minute and then said, “Fuck it. You’re probably lying, anyway. You’ve already shown me that you can’t be trusted. You just said some shit to try to save your job.”

  “You’re right. I might be lying, but you’re wrong about the trusting me part. Your husband asks me every time I pick you up and drop you off where you’re going, and I feed him with whatever lie you’ve tried to feed me. Let’s just drop it, because you’re right. I am trying to keep my job. My pops gave me the limo and told me not to show my face until I can introduce him to the man version of myself. When I told him I was driving for a big-time model, he invited me home for dinner. Yeah, I definitely want to keep this job. Working for your reckless ass made my pops proud of me again.”

  Meagan rolled up the partition after Angelo’s last words, and her mind went into overdrive with questions she wanted answers to. Is William cheating on me again? If so, with whom this time? And is he fucking these bitches at the restaurant, in his office, like he used to do me? she thought. She tried to get the bullshit off her mind, but her thoughts kept going right back to it. She was beyond tired of William’s shit, and she wasn’t getting any younger. It was bad enough that she’d spent the past twenty-one years getting her ass whupped, but to add the continuous cheating to it was too much for her to keep putting up with. If she found out William was back to his old tricks, she’d take half of everything he owned and start over at forty. She wanted kids, but they weren’t in William’s plans, and she’d sacrificed her wants for him. If he was still creeping, she was done making sacrifices. She rolled down the partition.

  “Okay, Mr. Hurley, I mean, Angelo. That’s a sad fucking story, and you’re more pathetic than I originally thought. I know I’m going to regret it. Spill it. If you want to keep your job, you better produce enough information to get me every dime he has when I file for my divorce, and I’ll type up something saying how great a driver you are so your pops will allow you to stay for dessert or whatever.”

  “I have enough dirt on him to get you every dime he has, and the quarters he’s making on the side.”

  Angelo hit the gas and exited the interstate. He had decided he could show her better than he could tell her, but he wasn’t stupid. He would play it like a hand of dominoes and allow her to think she was winning before he locked down the board.

  “Where are we going?” Meagan asked, seeing that they were no longer headed in the direction of her home.

  “I’m keeping my job. That’s where we’re going. Sit back and chill. We’re almost there.”

  Twenty minutes later, Angelo pulled up at a new condo complex in Riverdale, right outside of Atlanta, and parked.

  “Welcome to your husband’s condos. I’m sure you didn’t know he owned these, did you?” he said.

  Meagan’s heart skipped a beat. If Angelo was telling the truth, then he was right. She didn’t know her husband owned the complex.

  “Where’s the proof that these are his? I’m not dumb, Angelo. You can’t just pull up to a building and say he owns the condos inside and think I’ll just believe you. You know, it’s very hard to make big purchases like this when you’re married. It’s not like buying shoes. I need some proof.”

  Her heart was tearing away at her chest, and she could feel her throat getting that forced, dried feeling caused by unwanted tears released from the soul. William was always handling business, and she never inquired about that business, because it kept him out of her face, which meant it kept his hands off of her. If he does own the complex, why wouldn’t he tell me? she thought.

  Angelo paid her no attention. Instead, he pulled out his cell phone, dialed a number, and put the call on speakerphone.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Tolliver, but you told me to call you when I dropped Mrs. Tolliver off.”

  “You’re fine, Angelo, and thanks for calling. Where did you take her?” an out-of-breath William said into the phone.

  “She asked if I could take her to the agency and pick her up in an hour. She was alone, and I circled the block twice to make sure no one pulled up. She didn’t make any phone calls on the ride there, either, but she did ask me if I saw you.”

  “I wonder what that is about? Did she say why she was looking for me or what she needed to do at the agency?”

  “No, sir, not really. She mentioned something about wanting to see if a fax came in for one of her models, but that was all. I’m downstairs at your condo now. Are you ready to go, or should I come back?”

  “Go ahead and take her home first and then come back for me. I’m still tied up with this one. She’s complaining about time again. You know how that goes.” William laughed.

  “Yes, sir, I do. You said she’s been upset since you mentioned the party you were throwing for your wife.”

  “Upset is putting it lightly. If I hadn’t come here when I did, she probably would have popped up at the restaurant, and then all hell would’ve broken loose.”

  “Ouch. I’m glad you made it back to her in time, then. Oh, and before I forget. How much are you selling your condos for? I know now isn’t really a good time to be asking, but one of my driver buddies has been taking his employer condo hunting. He’s a defense lawyer that just moved here from Los Angeles, so I’m sure he can afford wh
atever you’re asking.”

  “Yeah, now really isn’t a good time, but give your friend my number and have the guy give me a call tomorrow. I’ll get him set up for a tour. Make sure that he calls me tomorrow, because I have only three units left, and they are selling fast.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll return in two hours.”

  “Thanks, Angelo. I appreciate you.”

  “No problem.”

  “If she makes any detours or calls on the ride to the house, make sure you let me know.”

  “Yes, sir. You know I’ll let you know.”

  Angelo ended the call and looked in the rearview mirror at a pissed-off Meagan. He didn’t say anything as he drove off.

  “Stop this fucking car now. What unit is that bitch in? I’m going to fuck up him and his little bitch. I told him the next time I caught his ass cheating, I’d kill him. Where are they, Angelo?”

  Angelo hit the locks on the doors to prevent Meagan from jumping out, and he continued to drive. “Hold your horses, killa. You can’t go in there raising hell. There’s still a lot you don’t know. The only way all of this will work is if you calm your ass down, take notes and, once you have everything you need, move smart. I took you there to secure my job. Do we still have a deal, or are you going to snap off every time you find out how fucked up your husband really is?”

  “He’s in there playing house with another bitch, and you want me to be calm!”

  “Don’t point the finger without counting all them niggas you passing out pussy to. You got all these Similac-drinking niggas eating your pussy as I drive you around Atlanta, and only God knows whatever else you’re doing with them. You can’t play hurt that he’s doing the same. You have to play smart.”