by La Jill Hunt
“I know, and that’s a good thing. Let’s just give it some time, Yaya, and see how it works out.” Jason pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “I love you, Yaya, but this is just too crazy for me to be dealing with right now.”
Yaya closed her eyes and tried to tell herself that this was a nightmare that she would be waking up from in a few moments. Jason was the love of her life, and she didn’t know what she would do without him. It may have been Taryn that taught her about style and fashion, but it was Jason who taught her about sophistication. Long gone were her days of jeans and T-shirts. Jason filled her closet with designer suits and dresses and the Jimmy Choo shoes to match. It was because of Jason that she turned heads when she walked onto the sets, rather than the hot models and singers who were supposed to be the center of attention. Now, he no longer wanted her, and she didn’t know what she was going to do.
“I guess I need to go then,” she told him.
“Call me to let me know you made it home.” He walked her to the door.
“No, I’ll be okay.” She opened the door to her car. She felt like a zombie as she got in.
“Yaya, you know I love you, right?” He leaned into the car and stroked her hair.
She nodded without looking at him. You love me, but you don’t want me. “Good-bye, Jason.” She closed her door and waited until he went back into the house before backing out the driveway and crying all the way home.
Chapter 7
Camille’s arrival at her house didn’t come as a surprise to Paige. They had always been close, from the moment they met. Camille had never really had a close relationship with her mother, mainly because Ms. Lucille remained intoxicated most of Camille’s life. Unlike her mother, Camille welcomed Paige into the family, and Paige embraced Camille as the younger sister she never had.
“Aunt Cam!” Myla dropped the bags on the floor and ran to hug her aunt.
“Let me guess—no one knows you’re here, right?” Paige asked.
“Nope, and I’d like to keep it that way, if possible.” Camille grinned sheepishly.
“Cam, you know how things are between me, your brother, your mother, hell, his new wife.”
“You act like things between me and them are hunkydory.” Camille plopped down on the sofa, pulling the blanket over her legs, “Come on, Paige. I’m not going to summer school, and I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I’m not staying there with that fat, lazy, so-called wife of his, and there’s no way I’m going to spend my summer cleaning up after her and sobering up my mother.”
“Why didn’t you mention this when we talked yesterday?” Paige sat on the other end of the sofa and faced her.
“Because I wanted to surprise you.”
Paige didn’t mind having Camille at her house, but the fact that Camille didn’t want anyone to know she was there made her uneasy. She knew that once Ms. Lucille and Marlon found out, there would be even more trouble, and more trouble with the Davis clan was the last thing she felt like dealing with.
“Camille, you’ve got to let Marlon know you’re here.”
“But, Paige—”
“I’m not saying tonight, but at some point they’re gonna find out and think I had something to do with it.”
“No, they won’t. Look, I’ll tell Marlon in a few days, I promise. So, can I stay here for the summer?”
“Yes!” Myla nodded in excitement.
Paige shook her head at the two of them. “Myla, get ready for bed while I talk to Aunt Cam.”
“Mom—” Myla started to protest.
“Go ahead, Myla, and I’ll come up in a few minutes.” Camille winked at her.
Myla jumped up and ran upstairs.
“Please,” Camille continued to plead.
“Fine. But you have to get a job.”
“I’ll get one, that’s no problem. Plus, I’ll help out with Myla, so you can go out and have some fun this summer.”
Hearing that, Paige realized that having Camille live with them for the summer was an even better idea than she’d first thought. She and Quincy really hadn’t spent a lot of time together over the past few days, with his putting the final touches on the new shop and helping his sister open her salon.
“Speaking of fun this summer . . . how is Mr. Quincy?” Camille asked.
“He’s good. He’s opening another barbershop next weekend right downtown near the library,” Paige told her.
“Can we say lunchtime quickies?” Camille giggled.
“Watch your mouth.” Paige threw a pillow at her.
“Maybe I can get a job at the barbershop as a receptionist. I can see myself spending my days watching fine men come in and out all day.” Camille laughed.
“Camille Davis, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you sound like you’ve gotten a little hot in the pants your freshman year of college. I don’t know if I can handle you this summer.” Paige was amused by the once shy introvert now giggling about boys.
“Don’t worry, Paige, you know my bark has always been bigger than my bite. Unfortunately, I’m still a virgin.” She sighed.
“Good. And I plan for you to stay that way until you’re married.”
Myla’s voice came down the steps. “Aunt Cam, I’m ready!”
Camille put her now empty cereal bowl on the table and stood up. She folded the blanket and tucked it under her arm then picked the bowl up. “Thanks, Paige. You’re the only person in my life I have that I can trust. If it wasn’t for you and Myla, I wouldn’t have anyone.”
Paige watched her walk out of the room and prayed that she’d made the right decision by allowing Camille to stay.
“Hey, Paige,” Camille said, when Paige answered her desk phone.
“Hey, Cam. What’s going on?”
“Tia has been trying to reach you. She’s called the house twice this morning.”
“Your cousin?”
Tia was Marlon’s cousin and the mortgage broker who helped them to buy a house. She was really nice, and Paige liked her a lot.
“Yep. I didn’t tell her who I was. She thinks I’m the babysitter.” Camille laughed. “I didn’t want to chance her telling Marlon or Lucille she talked to me.”
“I wonder what she wants.”
“I don’t know, but you may want to give her a call.” Camille gave her the number.
Paige called it immediately. She hoped nothing happened or no one died. “Hey Tia, its Paige.”
“Hey, Paige. I’ve been trying to reach you. Marlon brought me your paperwork, but I need some more info from you.”
“‘Paperwork’?”
“Yeah . . . to refinance the house. I can probably get it done quickly, girl. You all have a lot of equity built up and having it as rental property is a smart idea.”
“Tia, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“I don’t know anything about refinancing the house.”
“Paige, I’m sorry. I know you and Marlon aren’t together anymore, but I thought this was a decision you knew about. I mean, you’d have to know, for this to go through, because the house is in both your names. Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll call Marlon and—”
“No, I’ll call him. Give me a couple of days and I’ll get back with you. Don’t say anything to Marlon about having spoken to me.”
“That’s fine. I can tell him my appraiser is backed up and it’ll be awhile.”
“Yeah, tell him anything. He’ll believe it, coming from you. Thanks for calling. By the way, how did you get my home number? I know Marlon didn’t give it to you.”
“Funny thing. I called his cell and office numbers and couldn’t get in contact with you. I knew you had moved and took the chance that your number may be listed, and you were.”
“Thank God for small favors. I’ll talk to you later.”
Paige couldn’t believe Marlon tried to sell the house behind her back. How could he be dumb enough to think he could do that? Of all the craz
y, low-down things he could possibly do . . . She was livid. That house was an investment that she and Marlon had made together for their children. She hated the fact that she didn’t listen to her father when he told her to think carefully before buying it with Marlon because they weren’t married. In her mind at that time, she thought she would be Marlon’s wife soon. Things didn’t quite work out that way, and even when she moved out, she didn’t think about what would happen to their house. Daddy was right—I should’ve listened to him a long time ago.
“Hey, you ready to go to lunch?”
She looked up to see Quincy standing in the doorway.
“I’m too pissed to eat,” she told him.
“What’s wrong? What has Celeste done now?”
“It’s not Celeste, it’s Marlon.” She turned off the computer and grabbed her purse.
“And what has the ex-love of your life done now?” He smiled.
“You’re trying to be funny—He’s trying to refinance the house,” she told him as they walked out of her office and into the quiet library. The loudness of her voice caused the few lunchtime visitors to look up. She knew she was out of order, but she was too mad to care. Besides, she was the boss.
“What house?” Quincy asked. They walked over to his silver Acura and he opened the door for her.
“Our house.”
“The house you used to live in?—that house?”
“Yes, that house.”
“Oh, is that a bad thing?” He glanced over at her.
“It is, when he’s trying to do it behind my back.”
“He ain’t tell you he was selling it? Now that’s messed up, I ain’t lyin’.”
“I can’t believe he would be so low-down and stupid. I know his mama told him to do it, and he probably listened to her like a dumb ass. That’s why I told them to get the hell out my house anyway, her and her fat, nasty daughter-in-law.”
“You told them to get out of your house?” Quincy pulled into the parking lot of Applebee’s.
Paige rolled her eyes at him. “Your repeating everything I tell you isn’t helping any.”
“I’m just trying to get a full understanding of what’s going on.”
“Remember when we went to the house and got the girls?” she asked him after they were seated and placed their orders.
He nodded. “Yeah, Kasey gave them the test.”
“Right. Well, while I was there, I gave Kasey and Ms. Lucille their thirty-day notice.”
“You told them they had to get out? Doesn’t Ms. Lucille have her own house?”
“I don’t know if she does or not. I know she’s been staying at mine, along with that cow, and I want them out.”
“So you’re kicking them out your house?”
“Well, technically, I can’t kick Marlon out because his name is on the deed.” Paige took a sip of water.
“But you want his mother and his pregnant wife to go?”
“Exactly.”
“Do you really think that makes sense? I mean, come on now, Paige, be reasonable.”
Quincy was being just as aggravating about the situation as her mother was. It seemed as if everyone was on Marlon’s side.
“I am being reasonable. His mother constantly disrespects me, along with his wife, and I’m supposed to let them live in me and Marlon’s house? You don’t see the wrong in that?”
Quincy sat back and stared at her for a moment. “What I do see the wrong in is you still thinking the house is yours and Marlon’s. It’s just another thing that ties you to him and you don’t want to let go.”
Paige frowned. “That’s crazy.”
“No, it’s not. Marlon is married and has a new baby on the way. You don’t live there. You said yourself you never had to pay the mortgage. If he wants the house, let him have it.”
“No, I’m not letting him have anything.”
“You’re not even being rational.”
“Why should I be the rational one? Is he being rational by going behind my back?”
“You know you legally can’t kick Kasey and his mom out. You only own half the house, and Maron owns the other half and he lives there. If he gives them permission to live with him, they can stay. You think he’s too stupid to realize this and consult a lawyer?”
Quincy sounded like the voice of reason, something she really didn’t feel like hearing at that moment.
“I know all of that Quincy ‘Matlock’ Westbrooke. Thanks. You know what—it’s not even worth discussing. Let’s just enjoy our lunch.”
“Cool with me.” Quincy told her.
As soon as she returned to her office, she dialed Marlon’s cell number and got his voice mail. It took everything within her not to leave a nasty message. She decided to be smarter than that. Instead, she left a pleasant one. “Hey, Marlon, it’s me, Paige. I was just thinking about you. Give me a call when you get a chance. Talk to you soon. Bye.”
Chapter 8
“Did you see the car Titus has for sale outside his shop?” Monya asked, as they unloaded stuff out of the car and took it inside.
The salon was coming together nicely. True to his word, Lincoln had the place gutted, painted, and floored in a matter of days. The plumbing had been done, and things were moving along swiftly. They walked inside to the sounds of Babyface blasting from the boom box.
“No, I didn’t see it,” Yaya answered.
“Girl, how about—it’s a gold Benz. I don’t know what year, but it’s got your name written all over it. You better call him and see what’s up.”
“Yeah.”
Any other time, Yaya would have had her brother’s best friend, Titus, on the phone in minutes, trying to find out about the car he was selling at his body shop. She didn’t really care about anything these days, feeling as if she was going through the motions.
She missed Jason terribly. She thought that, by now, they would have at least spent some time together. She had only talked to him twice, since he’d decided, “I need some space.”
It was hard going home after a long day of preparing for the salon’s opening and not being able to share it with him. She wanted to get his opinion about the decisions she was making, and more than anything, she needed his support, not to mention the warmth of his body next to hers.
“Uh, I thought we agreed no major purchases until we’ve been open for a year,” Taryn said. “Unless I come across a convertible Jaguar for a steal, that’s the only exception.”
“Whatever,” Yaya said.
“Yaya, I need for you to get some excitement about you, girl.” Taryn looked up from the mirror she was hanging. Since meeting Lincoln, all of a sudden, she was always present during the entire reconstruction process of the salon. “How does that look?”
“It looks fine,” Yaya said, barely paying her any attention. She placed the bags in the middle of the floor and walked off.
“Yaya, don’t leave them there! Put them—”
Yaya walked back out the door. The parking lot was crowded with cars and trucks of guys who were waiting their turn at Q-Masters. A little boy was going back and forth, trying to do tricks on a skateboard.
She opened her trunk and took out more bags. She closed the trunk and turned to go back in the building.
CRASH!
Before she knew it, she was on the ground along with all the bags. The palms of her hand were killing her. She shook her head to make sure she was still conscious. As she looked up, she saw what she had tripped over and who it belonged to. The red skateboard lay near her legs.
“Sorry,” the little boy told her.
Infuriated, Yaya got up. She ignored the blood coming from the palm of her hand and grabbed the little boy by the collar. She snatched the door of Q-Masters open and screamed, “Who the hell does this ‘bébé kid’ belong to?”
Everyone froze in their spot and stared. No one moved; it was as if they were waiting on her to say something else.
“Whose rug rat is this?” She held on tighter as the littl
e boy tried to get away.
“Ouch!”
“Get your hands off my son.”
Yaya turned to see a tall man dressed in a brown uniform approaching her.
“Does this belong to you?”
The man wore a look of anger that almost made her take a step back. “I told you to get your hands off my son.”
Yaya looked down at the little boy, terrified. She didn’t know if it was because of her or his father. She released his shirt, and he quickly stepped away.
“Yaya, don’t come in here trippin’,” Jarrod said to her.
“I ain’t come in here to trip. I came in to see who was it that left their child unattended in the parking lot of my establishment, playing on a damn skateboard at that.”
“Carver, didn’t I tell you to leave that skateboard in the car?”
“Yes, sir.” The little boy lowered his head.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” the man demanded. “Go wait for me outside.”
The little boy looked up at his father. “Yes, sir.” Then he turned and told Yaya, “Sorry.”
Yaya looked at him. “It’s cool.”
“I realize my son may have been in the wrong, but that ain’t give you the right to handle him the way you did.” The man’s gaze fell on her bleeding hands. “And the next time you put your hands on someone else’s child, you may wanna make sure your hands are clean—I like to keep my rug rat neat.”
Yaya looked down at her scraped and bleeding hands.
Before she could respond, the man had walked out the door.
“Dammmmmmmnnn,” Jarrod, the other barbers and the customers all said at the same time.
Yaya rolled her eyes and stormed out. She walked back over to her car, where her bags were still laying on the ground. She bent over to snatch them up.
“Let us help you with those.” The man and his son reached to pick up her bags.
“No. I got it.”
Either he didn’t hear her or ignored her reply. Not only did they pick the bags off the ground, he reached and took the bag she was holding out of her hand.
