Millionaire Wives Club (12 page)

As Chaunci locked the door, a voice came from behind her and scared the hell out of her. “We would appreciate it if you would stop leading us on a goddamn cat-and-mouse chase just to find out who the hell you’re screwing!” She turned around and it was the producer, Bridget, and the camera guy, Carl.

Chaunci was instantly pissed and rendered speechless. She rolled her eyes and continued about her business. She was exhausted by the time she caught a cab home. As she prepared to cross the street to her apartment building, she hesitated for a moment; she could have sworn that Idris was leaning against the wet brick of her building.

“You can’t be fuckin’ serious,” she said with contempt as she stepped in front of him. “How did you get my address?”

“Just know that I have it.”

“Why are you here?”

“I rang the bell and
our
daughter told me you weren’t there”—he hunched his shoulders—“so I waited.”

“I don’t know what the fuck for,” she said, waving him off, “because as far as I’m concerned you and I don’t have a daughter.”

“How many times do I have to apologize?” He walked close to her and the seduction of his cologne caused her to lose her footing
for a moment. Idris caught her hand and helped her to regain her balance.

“I’m never going to accept your apology,” Chaunci said, “so you can stop.”

“You can’t expect me to walk away, again?”

“I don’t see why the hell not! You don’t know Kobi and she damn sure”—she poked him in his chest—“doesn’t know you.”

“What the hell is it going to take to make this okay?”

“Okay?” Chaunci snapped, hating that emotion was starting to make her voice tremble. “Make this okay? Here’s what is okay: If you keep getting in my damn face, I’ma make it okay for you to pay child support, because after that hundred-and-twenty-million-dollar contract the Knicks just gave you, you can afford it. So my suggestion to you is to stay the fuck outta my way! Now make that okay.” And she slammed the glass entrance door behind her.

E
van hoped the boom mic couldn’t pick up the rapidity of her heartbeat. She placed her right hand at the base of her neck, her quick-paced breathing made her palm rise and fall while she drifted into deep thought of what Aiyanna and Kendu had been laughing about for more than an hour. As she became convinced that they were probably laughing at her, the maid dropped a piece of china and it shattered to the floor, scaring Evan out of her daydream.

The maid looked at Evan and hoped she wouldn’t lose it, as she had been known to. When Evan said nothing the maid quickly cleaned up the mess and disappeared into the kitchen.

“I think I’ll be nosey,” Evan said, smiling at the camera as she eased down the hall toward Aiyanna’s room, only to find Kendu closing the door behind him.

“What were you two doing?” she asked him. “I read her a book. Is that okay?”

Evan’s heart wrenched. She was torn between spittin’ in his face, bursting into tears, or both. As the bell rang and the maid announced,
“Mr. and Mrs. Starks have arrived,” Evan suppressed her anger.

Kendu turned from Evan and walked into the great room where Yusef and Milan were standing.

“My man,” Yusef said as Kendu headed toward him and they exchanged a brotherly hug and handshake.

“What’s good, man?” Kendu asked. “How’s the holiday season coming along?”

“You got it,” Yusef responded. “You know how it is, buying a buncha shit for my kids.” Milan shot him the evil eye, knowing he hadn’t even paid child support in months. “And my wife wants to spend all of my money.”

They both laughed as Kendu walked over to Milan and Yusef was greeted by Evan.

As Kendu and Milan embraced, Milan hated that she was instantly lost in his scent, and in the way her skin felt against his as he squeezed her a little too tight and too close. “Thanks for coming,” he said, holding her hand a moment too long.

“Only for you,” Milan whispered as she turned to Evan and handed her a bottle of Cabernet. “How are you?”

“I’m well.” Evan smiled. She and Milan gave each other light hugs and air kisses on each cheek. “You look really cute.” She looked at Milan’s Louis Vuitton wedge heels and said, “The shoes are fabulous.”

“Thank you,” Milan said, looking around. “I’ve always loved this place. I swear your estate is magnificent.”

“Yeah.” Yusef nodded his head in agreement. “I was just telling Milan that we gon’ start construction on an estate like this. The only problem is trying to find enough land in Manhattan where we can put a helicopter pad, feel me?”

“Yeah, bruh, sounds nice,” Kendu said.

“Well, you know how I do it.”

Milan felt like slapping the shit out of him. Apparently he
didn’t have a single bone of embarrassment over the obvious lies that slid like butter off his tongue. She wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up; they’d just gotten in the door and already he was lying. But because she knew he would take that opportunity to embarrass her, she changed her mind and looked back at Evan. “Dinner smells wonderful.”

“Oh, the chef really laid it out,” Evan bragged as they all walked into the dining room and took their places at the table, where chilled glasses of Dom were waiting for them. “I told him that this was sort of a peace meal, you know.”

Milan nodded.

“Listen, Milan,” Evan said, grabbing Kendu’s hand and slyly draping his arm around her, “I know we have had our share of misunderstandings.”

“Yeah we have,” Milan agreed.

“Misunderstandings?” Yusef laughed. “Shit, the last time y’all were together I just knew somebody was gon’ get they ass beat. And Evan”—he sucked on the toothpick he’d stuck in the corner of his mouth—“you may have stayed skinny over the years, but my girl here,” he said, gripping Milan’s shoulder as if he were feeling for a muscle, “don’t let that tight waist and flat stomach fool you. Did you see that ass? Large like a ma’fucker.” He looked at Kendu as if he were expecting an accompanying laugh but he didn’t get one. Nevertheless Yusef carried on. “Serena Williams don’t have shit on Milan. Fa’real, dawg, Milan mighta whupped yo’ li’l ass to the ground.” He shifted the toothpick to the other corner of his mouth. “I ain’t sayin’ but I’m just sayin’ you mighta wore an ass whippin’ that day. Feel me?”

Embarrassment flooded Milan’s face. “Why did you have to say all of that?”

“All of what, Milan? I was just making a statement that you ain’t to be fucked with. What, Da Truef can’t even take up for you now?”

“No, he can’t,” she quipped.

“Ungrateful ass. Can’t help yo’ ass out for shit.”

Milan ignored him and looked back to Evan. “Look,” she said, “we need to try and get past all of the arguing and nonsense. We’re together all the time now and we need to learn to get along.”

“Exactly,” Evan agreed. “I mean, we’re too classy for this kind of foolishness. And we don’t need all of this negativity.”

“So,” Kendu said, “let’s raise our glasses to friendship, love, and a renewed vision of what beauty really is.”

They clinked their glasses. “Cheers!”

During dinner and some light chatter about the weather, politics, and sports, seemingly out of nowhere Kendu started to laugh.

“You ai’ight, bruh?” Yusef looked at Kendu with one eye closed.

“Yeah.” Kendu grinned. “I was just thinking of something.”

“Oh ai’ight, you better tell us what to hell the thought was, because the way you started laughin’ to yourself, I thought you had a splif. I was ’bout to say we can light that up in the driveway right now.” He shook his head to the side for emphasis.

Milan blew air out the side of her mouth.

“What?” Yusef attempted to whisper. “I said something wrong again?”

“What was so funny?” Milan said to Kendu, ignoring Yusef.

“Remember when we were all broke?”

“Like it was this morning.” Milan smirked. “What made you think of that?”

“This linguine. I remember at Morgan the closest we got to shrimp and pasta anything was some damn shrimp-flavored ramen noodles.”

“Hell yeah,” Milan said, falling out laughing, “and to spice it up we used to put hot sauce in it.”

“You ate that?” Evan frowned.

“He never made that for you, Evan?” Milan asked, surprised.

“No.” She looked at Kendu and playfully rolled her eyes. “He tried though.” She looked back to Milan. “But I specifically told him when you get it a little more together then you step to me.”

“Wow, well, obviously”—Milan slyly rolled her eyes toward Yusef—“I didn’t have that much discretion.”

“So what are you saying?” Kendu asked. “You ain’t like my noodles?”

“No.” Milan laughed. “I’m just saying that you were a cheap ass. Every time I came to your room I didn’t want you fixing me a ten-cent pack of noodles.”

“You shouldn’t have come hungry.”

“Whatever, you didn’t say all that when you had me tutoring you in math and you couldn’t pay me.”

“That’s what the noodles were for.”

“You have always been cheap. When we were kids and I begged you to take me to Astroland you would never buy hot dogs or cotton candy from the concession stand.”

“Hell no, you know how much money I spent winning you those big-ass prizes?”

Milan laughed so hard that she fell back against her chair. She wiped the tears from her eyes. When she looked at Kendu everyone else in the room seemed to disappear. “Knott, remember when you were pledging?”

“Knott?” Evan frowned. “Who is Knott?” She looked confused.

Milan sat up. She’d been thrust back into reality. She smirked and said, “What?”

“Who are you calling Knott?”

“Kendu,” Milan said, taken aback. “I’ve always called him Knott.”

“Really?” Evan arched her eyebrows. “Knott?” She turned to Kendu. “Since when did you pick up a nickname that your wife doesn’t know about?”

“It was a name I had as a kid. My friends from the block gave
it to me because I always claimed to have a knot in my pocket,” Kendu said.

“A name from the block?” Evan turned back to Milan and snapped at her with a tinge of sarcasm in her voice, “You do realize he’s not on the block anymore?”

“No.” Milan returned Evan’s dash of sarcasm. “I thought for sure your spending habits had him out there.”

“Ding.” Yusef stuffed his mouth. “Round one. My money goes on the big girl. Hey yo.” Yusef turned to the maid who had just come into the room. He pointed to the Cabernet they brought and said, “Homegirl, crack this open for me, it’s ’bout to be on and crackin’ in this piece.” The maid opened the wine and Yusef looked at Evan and Milan.

“Chill,” Kendu whispered to Evan.

“Don’t tell me to fuckin’ chill.”

“You pissed, huh, Evan?” Yusef said, sipping his drink. “But I feel you, ’cause I’m sittin’ here like, these ma’fuckers gotta lotta damn memories: kids and shit, Astroland, cheap-ass noodles. What the else was y’all doing? Playin’ kiss a girl, get a girl?”

Kendu looked taken aback, and Milan snapped, “Please, we’re childhood friends, that’s it.”

“Well, a whole lotta them ma’fuckers end up on the playground bustin’ cherries, so what exactly is you sayin’?” Yusef said.

“Good question.” Evan slightly rolled her eyes.

“Don’t let him get you hyped,” Milan said to Evan as she pointed toward Yusef. “If you’re pissed this is not who you wanna follow, trust.”

“Pissed.” Evan playfully waved her hand. “Girl, please. I know for a fact that you and Kendu are best friends, especially since—” “Since what?” Milan crossed her legs.

“Let me put it this way, I wish I could be like you, relaxed and just let myself go. But with this man”—she pointed her thumb toward her Kendu—“not.”

Milan sat there for a few minutes. She wanted to cuss this bitch
out. But she changed her mind, especially since the thought entered her head to drag Evan across the table and whup her ass for the old and the new, but that, too, soon became a passing thought. Then she looked at Kendu, who’d just said to Evan, “Let me speak to you for a moment.” And she chose to shut up, because she knew if she opened her mouth that anything was liable to come out.

“Excuse us.” Evan smiled as she and Kendu walked into the kitchen. Once they disappeared from sight, the camera guy zoomed in on Milan and Yusef. “Tell the camera, how did that make you feel?”

“I don’t feel any kind of way.” Milan gave half a grin. “Evan will always be exactly who she is.”

“Listen,” Yusef snorted, “this is how I feel about the situation, and Da Truef is gon’ try and be as diplomatic as possible. No matter how you slice it, them two”—he pointed toward the hall-way—“is some bougie motherfuckers.”

“How you gon’ say something like that sitting at their damn table?” Milan snapped. “Oh my God.” She waved her hands.

“Me?” Yusef looked at Milan as if she’d lost her mind. “You were the one who stole on this chick in her living room just a few weeks ago. All I’m sayin’”—he looked into the camera—“is that the food is free and I spent my last dollars on this wine”—he tapped the bottle—“and I ain’t leavin’ till it’s gone. So, what I think, or better yet what I feel, is this: My wife better act right, cool out, and if she wanna light Evan’s ass up, all I need is a minute to get full, get me a steady buzz goin’ on, and then if she want we can jump the broad. Feel me?”

As Kendu and Evan walked back toward the table, Milan said, “Shut … the…fuck … up.”

The camera zoomed out and allowed Evan and Kendu their space to retake their seats at the table. “We had to tuck our daughter in.” Kendu arched his thick eyebrows.

“Listen, Evan,” Milan said, attempting to return the conversation
to a decent level, “The other day Bridget suggested that we take a trip to bring the New Year in.”

“Oh, girl, please.” Evan flicked her hand. “Not. I want to bring my New Year in with my husband and our child.”

Milan hated the feeling of a verbal knife entering her chest. She cleared her throat. “I can understand that, but you never know. Maybe a tropical island someplace. An escape from winter, just the girls. It just might turn out to be fun.”

Evan hesitated. “Maybe.” She looked toward Kendu. “What do you think?”

“I think you deserve to go.”

Evan smiled. “He is always so sweet.” She pecked him unexpectedly on the lips.