Forever. (This. Is. Not. Over. Book 3) (5 page)

“No,” I snap back at him.

“Father Harper gives me those looks because he and I share a secret. We’re close like that. If Father Harper and I, the Virgin Mary, were close to one more person like we’re close to each other, we’d start our own trinity. You
, on the other hand, always sucked up to him, though we all know that he can take you or leave you.”

“Oh fuck you and Father Harper!”

“Ladies …” Malcolm says.

“All I’m saying,” Danielle says, “is that my child is playing the Greatest Man
Who Ever Lived and it would be nice for everyone to witness the second coming.”

“I don’t care if your child was playing God Himself.”

“Well, technically, he is. See, this is why Father Harper can take you or leave you, you don’t even know the basics.”

“Shut the hell up, Danielle Francine Rouge-St. John-Blair! You damn self-righteous sack of you-know-what! You’re the very reason I’m in this position right now.”

“Excuse me? I don’t recall being at the Jasmine and Jacob Uncut photo shoot.”
Danielle, stop,
I hear Rena say in the background.

“If you would have told me about Laura five years ago, we could have prevented this now! You know what
? You have turned into the worst friend a girl could have. You are nothing to me. I curse the day you were born.”

“Oh really, Jasmine? So you now have the ability to authorize curses?”

“I will never forgive you for knowing about that picture for five years and never telling me about it. Never. And you have the audacity to sit here and ask me if I’m going to come watch your son play my Lord and Savior? I think
not
.”

“Suit yourself. Will you be coming to my baby shower next month?”

“No!”

“Would you like to know where I’m registered?”

“I hate you! You already have two kids by two different men! You don’t need to be registered anywhere!”

“You sure you don’t want to grab a bite to eat, Jasmine?” Malcolm says. “Because McCormick & Schmick's just started offering their new crab cake and I’ve yet to try it.”

“No, Malcolm. I do not.”

“Hold on
,” Danielle says peacefully. “Nicky wants to speak with his Aunty Jazz.” I close my eyes, inhale deeply and then let out a slow exhale.

“Hi,” Nicky says
. “This is the voice of God.”

“Sorry, Nicholai
, but I won’t be coming to your play tomorrow. Don’t take it personally but I won’t be coming due to personal reasons,” I say, my eyes still closed, my voice softer.

“Do you know that I have a solo?”
he asks quite frankly.

“No, I didn’t know you had a solo.” I hear Malcolm sigh. I look at him and watch him close his eyes and drop his head back against the headrest. “I haven’t been to church in a few weeks.”

“Pop has been helping me practice it for four weeks now.”

“Pop?”

“Oh, umm, Mac. My mom says that I have the voice of an angel. But since I’m Jesus, the voice of an angel just won’t do. That’s what Uncle Cadence said.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll do fine, sweetie.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. Can you hand the phone to Pop—umm, Mac?”

“Sure, hold on.” I nudge
Pop
on the arm and pass him his cell phone back. So Nicky calls him dad? Interesting. Way to go, Danielle. Not only do you have the perfect ex-husband who forks over wads of cash to take care of Nicky, you also have the perfect husband that Nicky loves enough to call
Pop
. I, on the other hand, am the ex-girlfriend of a complete and utter liar by the name of Jacob Matthias Blair and the wife of a man who asked me to leave our home.
I’ve
done things the right way but
Danielle
seems to have all the luck.

That’s what bothers me about her. I know she thinks that it’s because she and Jon didn’t work out but it’s not that. I could never be mad over another couple’s marriage failing. Sure, I loved them together because I loved our original group of six, but I was willing to get over Danielle tearing it apart
by having an affair with Malcolm. So, Danielle doesn’t get on my nerves because she dumped an unsuspecting Jon and left him broken hearted. She gets on my nerves because no matter which way she turns, the luck just never stops with her. She was the first one to get married. She was the first one to have a baby. She met a guy she thought was better than her husband. She dumped her husband for the new guy who seems to dote on her. She lives the life of luxury with this new guy. She has this amazing little boy by him. She gave birth to a little boy, who would one day play Jesus. She’s pregnant with the little girl that’s missing from her perfect life. She’s a frequent guest at the White House. She’s the most popular feminist in Boston. No matter who she’s with or what happens, she always floats to the top of the deep end.

What bothers her about me is that I’m a stay-at-home mom. I see the looks of derision she gives me when she walks into my condo and I’m creating my own recipes for this cookbook I’ve been wanting to write. Yo
u’d think she would be more encouraging since she owns a literary agency. You’d think she would take an interest in what I have to say since I’m her best friend. But no. If I’m not parading around with a cell phone to my ear, a work bag under my arm and a Starbucks cup glued to my hand, I’m just a pathetic housewife. You know what I say to that? I’ll be a pathetic housewife and she can keep being a man-hating feminist. And since she’s a feminist, by design she’s also a horrible wife and mother, which is probably why Danielle lost her first husband, is currently on her second and is possibly on her way to the third. Because Malcolm surely wants to leave her.

Rumor has it Danielle makes Malcolm massage her feet, rub her back and read her the funnies every night. Rumor also has it she drinks a glass of pink champagne at least once a week … while she’s pregnant! Having said that, I have a secret. Last month, Dena told me that she was dining in
The Bristol Lounge with a sorority sister when she saw Danielle and
Marla.
(Can you believe that?) Apparently, the two of them were laughing it up in a dark corner eating crab cakes. Dena said that Danielle kept looking around as if she were hiding from someone. And get this: Danielle was drinking pink champagne, which is why she probably looked nervous. Well this was just the last straw. I couldn’t care less if Danielle destroyed her own pathetic life, but her third child by her second husband didn’t deserve that.

I waited until I thought Danielle was home,
then I went to The Coffee Bar Café right across the street from her condo and I called the police from a phone booth. It was about time she was exposed for the wicked mother and human being that she was. (How dare she consider me a bored housewife with nothing to do!) Giving them her address but not her name, I told the police that there was a drunken pregnant woman who looked like she needed immediate attention. I sat at a window table at The Coffee Bar Café enjoying a skinny chai latte sprinkled with cinnamon, my eyes glued to Brookshire Condominiums. But just as the police got out of their squad car, Malcolm happened to be coming home. One of the officers knew him and they got to talking and laughing. Eventually, I saw one of the cops gesturing upstairs to Malcolm’s condo. Malcolm looked at the cop, confused. The cop just shrugged it off, chatted a bit more and then left with his partner. Malcolm then stood for a moment looking around in front of his condo building, but I’m sure he didn’t see me all the way from across the street. That’s our little secret.

Back to Danielle being an awful human being. Oh! Let’s not talk about her frequent trips out of town and sometimes out of the country
sans
husbands and children. What type of woman leaves her children behind and goes parading around Europe? A so-called feminist, that’s who. She’s a terrible wife and an atrocious mother, but she always manages to get the good guys and saintly kids. I, on the other hand, can’t seem to catch a break. So that’s what bugs me the most about Danielle. She’s a bitch; she’s a divorcee, and she has three children by two different men, and yet the cops don’t arrest her. Oh! And Father Harper anoints her Virgin Mary.

And
Marlon kicks
me
out of our condo for taking a picture.

I did nothing but love Jacob. I waited for him, believed in him and still came out the loser. He married another woman
—Winnie. So I devoted all of my energy to Marlon. I loved him, made gourmet meals for him, gave him two daughters, was trying for a boy and was the perfect wife around Boston. Look at me now. Just sad.

“Alright I’m ready,” Malcolm says as he tilts his head to the side slightly as if he’s aiming to really concentrate on what Nicky is about to say.

“So, when Jesus was born,” I hear Nicky say, “this is the song He sang out loud from the manger.” Within a moment, I hear Nicky singing “Little Drummer Boy” through the phone. I watch as Malcolm smiles and tries not to laugh throughout the duration of the song. “ …
me and my druuum
,” Nicky finishes.

“Excellent
,” Malcolm says. “Couldn’t have sung it better myself.”

“And how was the last note?”

“Better than ever. You’ve been practicing,” he says as he puts Nicky on speaker and begins to check his cell phone for missed emails. “Shit, I need to call him back,” I hear him say to himself.

“Mommy said that she liked it but I should sing it like Alicia Keys did and change it to
“Little Drummer Girl”. She said that’s what she would like to hear if she was Mary and Jesus was her son. She said we don’t know what the little drummer looked like. It could’ve been Sheila E.”

“Tell your mother that over my dead body will you sing
‘Little Drummer Girl’,” he says as he takes Nicky off the speaker. “Also, you and I worked on the Ray Charles version and that’s the version Jesus will be singing tomorrow.”

“Okay, so I’ll sing it again when you get home. Don’t forget to bring home some tea for my throat.”

“Will do.”

“And a lemon.”

“Got it. Would you like some honey as well?”

“Why not. Okay, I’m about to call Uncle Cadence
; he was worried about the bridge.”

“Alright, well call me back with any updates.”

“Okay, bye Pop.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“That damn boy …” Malcolm says as he ends the call and puts his phone in his coat pocket.

“How sweet,” I scoff. “Love.”

“Ready?”
he says as he looks over at me with that smirk of his.

“Where are we going?” I cross my arms and look out the front window.

“Three different places.”

“Great … do I have a choice?”

“You do, but I think it’s best if you join me tonight. Three weeks is a long time to be away from your family. I’m really not sure how you do it.”

“Yeah, well tell Marlon that. He’s the reason why I’m not home yet.”

“Is he? Have you answered any of his calls yet?”

“Sure haven’t.”

“Returned any of his voicemails?”

“Absolutely not. For all I care, Marlon can burn in hell. I’ve been a good wife to him, Malcolm, so if he can ask me to leave home over a photograph taken
years
ago, before I barely knew him, then I may just have to pull a Danielle. I’ll find a rich white boy, turn him into my slave, make him support my lifestyle, take my children away from my first husband and start a brand new life while ruining everyone else’s in the process.”

“Well that’s one way to go
,” Malcolm says as he pulls away from the curb. “But there might be an easier way.”

“Whatever.”

And we’re off to our first stop.

Jacob

(
guess
.
who
.)

             
“Alright Boston! Let’s meet the next Miss Black Massachusetts contestant; a senior at Boston College, twenty-year-old, Miss Jasmine Harlow!” The audience claps wildly as Jasmine walks onto the stage, dressed in fitness wear and high heels.
(I’m not sure if you know this but Jasmine Harlow has a
bad
and I mean
bad
ass body
.) Her legs are sleek, built to perfection … and then she turns around. Let’s just say Jasmine Harlow has an ass that you’ll forever remember.

“Damn
,” Malcolm whispers as he sits next to me. “Good job, Jake.”

“Thank you, sir
,” I say, not taking my eyes off of Jasmine for even a second.

Malcolm and I are at Matthews Arena at the Miss Black Massachusetts pageant. Jasmine didn’t invite me. She’s proud to be here, but she still didn’t invite me. That’s normal considering that everyone from her society is here; that would mean Boston’s elite
black society: her parents, Attorney and Dr. Rouge, Attorney Carmichael and his wife, and Dr. Burgess and his wife are just a few of the most well-known faces that I recognize.