Love Over Envy: BWWM Pregnancy Romance Novel (15 page)

Dominique was playing with her brand-new Barbie doll on the floor. Just like her mother, she was a girly girl through and through. She had taken to this gorgeous dark skinned Barbie doll like no other and she never let the doll out of her sight. Currently, Dominique was brushing the long straight hair of the doll under her mother’s watchful eye.

Genevieve was quickly trying to finish up a video sales script as her daughter played next to her. This next client was bigger than ever. If Genevieve did this job successfully, she would have a deposit of around $50,000 that she and Sam could use to move out of the city. While their apartment was nice, Genevieve thought it would be better if her daughter was raised somewhere a little bit further South. Sam wanted to keep his brownstone, but they wanted to live primarily in Atlanta.  Genevieve wanted this move to happen desperately. She had seen the mansions like the ones those real housewives had, and she had set her eye on one of them that had recently gone into foreclosure.

Genevieve heard Sam come in through the front door. She was glad that he was finally home. It was almost 7 o’clock and he had been busting his ass at work in preparation for quitting and moving on to consulting. This move had taken longer than expected, but it was happening soon. Plus, Genevieve couldn’t really complain about the pay a CEO made. Sam had a ton of clients lined up, all he had to do was square things away so that his company to get on without him. Sam needed to decide who the next appointment would be too. He was facing a lot of difficulty finding someone who was even close to being qualified.

But when Sam walked in the door he looked differently than he usually did after work. He was dressed casually for one and he was carrying a bouquet of roses. Sam walked into the room and before saying hi to Genevieve, he picked his two-year-old daughter up off the floor.

“Good evening Dominique,” he said kissing his daughter on the cheek and swirling her around.

Dominique let out a high pitched shriek and gurgled, “Daddy!! Daddy!”

Sam ruffled her light brown hair and put her down on the ground. Dominique stared at her father incredulously. Her green eyes were just as captivating as her father’s. While Sam was on the ground, he got on one knee and faced Genevieve where she was sitting.  Genevieve couldn’t believe what was happening. Sam was on one knee. He had brought a bouquet of roses. She should have known what was coming. Genevieve slapped her hand over her mouth to cover it. Otherwise, she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from squealing with delight.

Sam began, “Genevieve… From the moment I met you, I was taken with your beauty. I know that at first he found the rough around the edges, a little bit savage and certainly considered me a playboy. We have been through so much together over the past 2 ½ years or so. We have had some terrible times getting this relationship off the ground. Even your pregnancy totally blindsided both of us. But ever since we decided to raise Dominique together, even with all the pressure, I’ve come to fall deeper and deeper in love with you. Genevieve… I can’t imagine a world where we aren’t together. I want you to be my wife. You are one of the best things to ever happen to me. You’re an excellent mother, a hard worker, and I would be honored if you would please marry me.”

When Sam finished his speech, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a Tiffany blue box. When he opened it, the most beautiful ring was inside. Sam knew how much Genevieve loved sapphires so her engagement ring was a simple gold band with a large sapphire stone framed by two small diamonds. It was exactly what she had dreamed of ever since she had been a little girl.  When she had moved to the city, Genevieve had put these dreams of ever finding true love on hold. She thought she would become a career woman and in doing that she would have to sacrifice her dreams of love, marriage and a family. Sam had proven her wrong.  With just a little adjustment, Genevieve could have it all. Nothing, especially not envy could get in the way of her happiness.

Genevieve began to tear up with joy. “Yes Sam, I’ll marry you,” she choked out through her tears.

Although Dominique did not fully understand what was going on, she understood that her mother’s tears were tears of joy.

“Yay! Mama and Daddy!” Dominique yelled out clapping.

She moved her Barbie’s arms so that Barbie could clap too.

After all the drama, after all the difficulties of raising a child the past two years, both Genevieve and Sam were ecstatic about the way things turned out.

They moved south together and got married in Atlanta. Because of that, everyone in the Mauricette family could attend. Nathalie’s kids were the ring bearers. Genevieve’s parents had flown in some of their Haitian family members. The entire affair was a three day bash. Even Sam’s family managed to make it down. At first, they were a little uncomfortable around Genevieve’s loud, audacious black family members. But by the pre-wedding barbecue, they were doing the electric slide like they’d been doing it for years.

Genevieve would look back years later filled with joy that she’d moved to New York in the first place. She was even happy about all the drama with Greta. It had pushed her and Sam together and put their love to the test. And even through the darkest times, their love had emerged victorious.

***

The End

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Climbed to #31 in African American Women’s Fiction…

Trust Fund Baby

Victoria Brooker had never known struggle. Well, depending on how you define struggle. Victoria defined struggle as forgetting to go to her pedicure that she had last Thursday, or chipping a nail, or her nutritionist taking a vacation. She had always been a little Princess. And that was all by design.  Victoria’s parents had built up a seven-figure business from scratch. They had survived through the civil rights movement. They became African American socialites and rose to the top of the hierarchy early on during times that were tougher than Victoria could have ever imagined.

This was a world of Jim Crow segregation. This was a world of hate crimes and abuse. It was hard enough for black people to get jobs, far less start their own business. But Harvey and June Brooker knew what they wanted and they went out of their way to get it.

Her parents were tough as nails, and when they built their fortune up north, they intended to enjoy the spoils of war. Once they gained complete access to the benefits of the upper class, they ensured Victoria had the best of the best. She wasn’t just spoiled. Victoria had some good qualities about her, none of which were encouraged by her upper-class social circle or anyone around her. Thus, everything good about Victoria was muted, and by all outward appearances, she was a nouveau riche spoiled baby. Her parents were typically distant until they wanted something. Victoria had realized the only things anyone valued her for was the ability to look good and shut up.

Victoria had deep burnt umber skin. She was as dark as a blackberry, and her skin seemed to glow with a purplish hue in the afternoon sun. Her parents were the same skin tone, and their family certainly made an impression when they vacationed in all the world's most luxurious places. They stuck out; fellow tourists and locals alike were surprised to find out they were Americans. Victoria took absolute delight in experiencing all of life’s luxuries, exactly the way her parents had trained her. She had a curvy but athletic body like that of a tennis player. She was muscular in all the right places, but still maintained the curves of a video vixen. Victoria’s parents had insisted upon athleticism throughout her life, but now that she was 25, she only did yoga once a week. Victoria’s biggest rebellion was quitting tennis and deciding to engage in mild exercise once a week.

Although Victoria was 25 years old, she still lived at home. Living with her parents, she had access to everything she had during her childhood. She still lived in her massive childhood bedroom. She had plenty of yard space. She had her own sauna and her own pool. She also had access to a pretty fat bank account, the trust fund should inherit when she turned thirty, and another one she would inherit when she turned forty-five as well as two credit cards that her parents paid for in full every month.

She got virgin human hair weave custom delivered to her house and had her very own hairdresser on call for braids, weave installations and wig shopping. Victoria also had a brand new BMW sitting out back. She had received it for her 25th birthday. After University, nearly every one of Victoria’s friends had been in a hurry to move out of their parent’s homes and express their independence, but not Victoria. She knew if she just kept her nose to the grindstone and did what her parents wanted, she would have access to all the money in the world. When you had money, what else did you need?

Money made the world go round. Victoria knew that much. She figured out early what having all this money meant for her. She could buy her way into the coolest social groups, throw the most lavish parties and shop right out of Vogue. Victoria wasn’t stupid. After all, she’d gone to college. Her parents had finagled their way into getting her acceptance letters to every school she applied to whether or not she was actually qualified. They saw no problem with that. Hell, the white people in their social class had been doing it for years. In college, Victoria had studied art history and Italian. Her parents thought the workload was a little bit taxing, but they at least agreed to pay for her semester abroad in Italy. Italy was a nonstop party. Victoria didn’t spend more than thirty minutes of the semester sober. She looked back on college as a fun time. She didn’t understand what everyone else was so stressed out about… Despite her carefree nature, Victoria scraped by and graduated with honors from her degree.

See, Victoria thought she had it all figured out. The only thing was, as she got older, she started to feel restless. She wasn’t sure “restless” was the best way to describe how she felt but she didn’t know what other word to use. It probably wasn’t as much restlessness as it was the general sense of malaise that comes from 25 years of leeching off of everyone in your life.

Victoria felt something was missing, but she just didn’t know what. She had all the money in the world, close friends and parents who loved her enough to support everything she did completely free of charge. Could there be more to life? Maybe Apple would release a new iPhone soon… Victoria was lying on her bed on Thursday afternoon thinking about when she should book her next appointment to get her hair done, when her mother knocked on her bedroom door and let herself in without waiting for a response.

June Brooker entered the room and immediately pursed her lips. She didn’t like to see Victoria idle. She didn’t want Victoria to work, but she felt like Victoria should at least make maintaining her appearance a full time job. Now, the girl was just lounging on the bed as if there was nothing to be done.

“Good afternoon, Victoria,” June said, folding her arms.

“Good afternoon, Mom,” Victoria replied, sitting up straight the moment she noticed her mother. Her mother was very big on manners. She took offense to the slightest infractions that she perceived as disobedience. She had expectations about how Victoria was supposed to conduct herself and if these expectations weren’t met, her wrath would soon follow.

June often spoke in an overly formal tone with Victoria. It was as if she was intentionally highlighting her emotional distance from her daughter. “I would like to inform you that you will be attending an important party your father and I are having tomorrow. We’re inviting some big names and expect to see some pretty big donations,” June said to Victoria. She made sure to wrinkle her nose in general disapproval.

That was one of Victoria’s parents’ problems. They never asked her permission for anything. They simply planned her entire life out for her. Victoria had no say in her schedule or anything. They tossed her around like a basketball, showing her off at garden parties, cocktail hours, and fancy dinners. They bragged about Victoria’s most certainly minor achievements, and enjoyed having their beautiful, young daughter as their show pony. Neither June nor her father Harvey showed any interest in who Victoria was beyond what she had to offer them.

Victoria couldn’t stand that she had no choice but to agree with whatever her mother or father wanted. They supported Victoria financially in every way. She’d never even built credit or had a job!  She tried not to reveal her distress at the fact that she had to attend another stupid party. That would only ensure her mother’s anger and she wasn’t prepared to deal with it.

“I’ll be there, Mother,” Victoria said.

June was about to leave but then stopped again. She couldn’t bear to leave Victoria in a room without making some kind of snide comment.

“I hope you wear something tasteful, dear. I know that you lack modesty sometimes, but it’s really more appropriate to cover up. Oh also, dear, I will need you to actually
speak
to your father at these sorts of things. You know Harvey works really hard, and he absolutely misses seeing you. Try not to eat too much so you can fit into a nice dress tomorrow,” June said.

Finally content that she’d said her piece, she waited for Victoria to respond before leaving.

“I think I know how to dress myself,” Victoria grumbled.

“Careful, dear. Don’t forget, your father and I
do
let you have everything you want around here. You’re quite blessed,” June warned. It was more like a threat than a warning despite her neutral sounding tone. Victoria’s mother wasn’t difficult to figure out. Victoria knew her parents weren’t above making good on their threats, too. She’d had a few mishaps when she was sixteen years old that had scared her from crossing her parents every again.

Her mother finally decided it was time to leave the room. She sashayed out and closed the door behind her politely. Victoria was absolutely furious.
Who the hell do they think they are?
Victoria thought. Her face was getting hot with anger. Her mother always managed to push her over the edge. She wanted to defy them, but her mother was right. They really did pay for everything she had. Victoria was a total dependant. She had no choice but to attend the stupid garden party that she had absolutely no interest in. The comments about her body didn’t even register. Victoria was well used to her mother’s critiques.

She hated that she lacked independence like this. She hated that her parents had pressured her into making so many decisions that further entrenched her in further dependence, and now she was powerless to do anything but obey them. They had adequately prepared her to live a life of being pampered. But Victoria had no skills to speak of. She was a professional at spending money, but quite incompetent at making it.

A part of Victoria wanted to be free, but she didn’t know how to obtain that freedom. She didn’t really know how to make decisions on her own. All she could do was enact a small series of rebellions and hope that her parents would acquiesce to her wishes in some way or another. But when they wanted something, they were determined to have it. And they wanted her to attend a garden party.

Her parents might have been able to control the way her Friday went, but they couldn’t control the rest of Thursday. Victoria needed a distraction. She decided to call up her two best friends, Rachel and Tiffany. A girl like Victoria didn’t necessarily have many friends outside of her tax bracket. Rachel and Tiffany had similar lifestyles to her. Rachel Levin was a half Jewish, half black girl. She had curly blondish hair, green eyes, and deep caramel colored skin. She loved throwing her looks in everyone’s face, and her money, too. Rachel’s Jewish father was incredibly wealthy. For her bat mitzvah she had received over $30,000 in cash. That wasn’t it, she also got a brand new car, access to one of the trust funds, and an all-expenses-paid vacation for her for best friends to Thessaloniki. Needless to say, that girl put Victoria to shame when it came to spending.

The third member of their trio, Tiffany Bautista, was a slightly less wealthy, tan skinned Cuban girl. Her parents had fled Cuba yet still managed to make quite a bit of money once they entered the United States. She was a little bit more down to earth than Rachel. She seemed to be the grounding force of the group. Rachel was the queen bee, Victoria was somewhere in the middle, and Tiffany was the one who got pushed around. Yes, these high school dynamics were maintained well into their 20s. Once you got into the habit, it was hard to break out of it. Tiffany, Rachel and Victoria didn’t have very much else to do besides shop, gossip and engage in bizarre, childish power struggles.

Victoria was desperate to have her two best friends over for a few bottles of wine and packs of cigarettes. Two terrible habits that she knew her mother would hate. Victoria hit their group chat with the initiating text, “My place, 20 minutes.” Although it seemed like they lived far apart, that was only because their parents had such vast expanses of property that every single house was far away! Each of the girls had their own car, so they would have no problem getting to Victoria’s. They planned to sit on one of her mansion’s patios and smoke until their voices became deep and husky. It didn’t seem like much but these young women didn’t have too many avenues for “acting out”. At least cigarettes were better than cocaine. The three women looked down on “serious druggies” who would waste their parents money and end up living on the streets. They liked the comfortable lives they led well enough.

Sure enough, her friends arrived right on time.  Rachel pulled up in her Porsche and Tiffany in her Prius. Rachel liked to make fun of Tiffany’s Prius. Mocking Tiffany was one of Rachel’s more bitchy habits that got on Victoria’s nerves. However, the three girls had a good time together once they got past Rachel’s attitude.They exchanged hugs and took their bottles of wine out back. The three women had a “special spot” where they’d gossiped and drank for years and years. Their friendship was one that people thought would last a lifetime. Now they were seating out back, they got down to business. It would be a challenge, but each of them promised they would finish one bottle of Merlot before they left.

They sat around a round table. Each grabbing a cigarette, they flicked on their lighters and took long drags of the sharp tobacco. Tiffany coughed as she exhaled, and Rachel giggled. She couldn’t resist mocking Tiffany for her “weak lungs”. The girls took in the natural beauty of New England as the sun came close to setting. The colors of fall were already starting to settle in, even if it was only early September. Victoria couldn’t seem to hide the fact that she was pissed off at her mother. Her grumpiness bled into everything. Both Rachel and Tiffany were getting sick of the pouty expression on her face. Eventually, Rachel convinced her to spill.