THE GOOD MISTRESS II: The Wedding

by Amarie Avant

  Mila finally noticed Akari, who took up residence near her mother. It wasn’t her mother’s shame, but the talk she had with Akari during the wedding planning that stopped Mila. How could a woman she hardly knew tell her something that sunk to the pit of her stomach? This shame clung to her. Slowing her down—

  Lamb had finally gotten Lido to her feet.

  “Sister . . . sister . . .” Lido wiped the blood from her nose and rubbed at her tears. Those dark, envious eyes were flooded with tears, shock, and fear. “Please talk to me, sister. I’m—”

  “Sister?” Mila scoffed. Akari’s words from their last trip faded to black. Mila snapped—again. Or she had returned to that crazed woman who owed her sister a good ass whooping.

  Something caught her eyes, Blake was entering the room. He hadn’t seen Mila, but his eyes held concern. Concern for Lido? It felt like ants digging beneath Mila’s skin. And if she didn’t get those fucking poisonous ants, they’d kill her!

  “Mila, baby, are you okay?” Blake asked.

  “She’s not,” Yasmin mumbled a response to Blake’s question.

  A fleeting image took over Mila’s vision. She didn’t see Blake before her. She saw Lido as a ten-year-old, struggling to walk around in their mother’s heels. Their mother’s favorite dirac, a deep purple dress with shimmery silver accents, sliding along Lido’s shoulder as she stalked over to her in their tiny bedroom.

  “Are you playing at Ukiya’s today?”

  “Lido, I can’t keep taking her mother’s magazines. I almost got caught,” Mila tried. She stepped back a few paces but bumped into the closet door.

  Mila felt the twisting of the skin on her forearm just as if it were happening now. On a table near her, Mila saw the tray from the room service she and Blake had shared earlier. Seeing a knife wrapped in a linen napkin, she grabbed it.

  “Baby, what are you doing?” Blake started closer to her.

  “Move,” Mila ordered. She couldn’t even see him. The only thing she perceived was the threat in front of her face that she’d always caved to. She had but one mission. Terminating the threat!

  Blake held up his hands, palms out in a calming manner. “Listen, no matter what Lido has said—”

  “I said move!” She sliced out at him. Only one part of her brain worked. The part that kept recalling all the cruel things Lido had ever done to her over the years. And damn, but her brain was working in overdrive to save face—well, what was left of it. To right wrongs. To defend herself.

  Blake held his hands out. “Do you think I am screwing your sister. Fuck, Mila. Think—”

  “You will get that magazine, Mila,” a young Lido ordered, arms folded, blocking her path out of the bedroom. Yasmin was supposed to be watching them. She actually did a good job taking care of her younger sisters when their parents were away, but Lido knew just how and when to corner Mila. Their oldest sister was probably cleaning up the kitchen after the meal she’d made them that night.

  With her back planted against the door, Mila tried to stand her ground. “Mama doesn’t like us to have those magazines in the house either. Lido, can’t you just read the ones I already took?”

  Mila roared as she lashed out at him again. “This bitch wants to ruin my wedding. My life!”

  “Little sister,” Lido spoke up as Blake ordered Lamb to get her out of the room. But she was pushing away from Lamb’s hold and attempting to talk to Mila.

  “Walaashay yar—little sister.” Her voice sent fire down Mila’s spine.

  Mila tried to run past Blake, and he grabbed her. “Stop it, now!”

  This time Mila sliced out again and met her mark. His shirt was cut, and blood was dripping from his forearm.

  At the sight of Blake’s blood, Mila stopped. The image of Lido cornering and twisting the skin on her arm until it bruised crashed down around her. She dropped the knife. “I-I’m sorry.”

  Blake’s lips were taut. “I said, take her and go,” he ordered Lamb, hardly glancing in Lido’s direction. Blake looked at Akari. He mumbled something about the swordfish on the menu for tonight.

  “I will . . .” Akari finally spoke. “Be at the party.” Her final statement was mixed with confusion. Would there still be a party?

  Mila tried to touch him, but he flinched away from her caress. “Blake, I’m—”

  “Just answer my one question.” Blake snapped. “Did it honestly cross your mind that I’d fuck your sister?”

  “No.”

  He started for the door.

  “Blake. I’m sorry.” She gasped. “I honestly would never believe that. I- I just . . . stooped to her level. I didn’t know Akari would—”

  “That was my only question.” The finality in his tone left no room for her to speak.

  Soon the room was a quiet mess. Mila glanced down at herself. She hastily tied a knot on her robe. There were tiny droplets of blood on the sleeve—Blake’s blood. She’d hurt the man that she loved. I am such an idiot.

  “You thought I invited Lido into your wedding to be a bitch?” Yasmin asked.

  Mila opened her mouth. Before she could speak, her oldest sister reared back on her heels and stalked to the door. Lamb grabbed Lido’s arm and without a word escorted her out.

  “If we ever cross paths again, sister,” Mila shouted, “you’ll regret it.”

  Slowly she came down from the onslaught of anger and adrenaline assaulting her veins. Then Mila felt like shit. She glanced at her angered mother and huffed. Damn, I argued with you too.

  A stifled sob slammed through Mila. She sunk down onto the floor and cried. Flexing her slender fingers, she hated herself for the fleeting pleasure she derived from causing pain. It had felt so good to hurt Lido.

  Blake

  Isaac gave Blake a wide-eyed stare when he entered his room. Isaac turned around and headed toward the dresser while mumbling, “Let me get us a drink.”

  Blake walked past the bed and sat down at the table near the floor to ceiling window. Glancing down at the sopping mess of his gash, he tried in vain to stop the seeping blood.

  “Shit, if we were anywhere else, I’d ask who the fuck do we need to handle.” Isaac placed a few ice cubes into two glasses, then unscrewed the bottle of Jack Daniels.

  “Mila did this.”

  Isaac had been in the process of holding out a glass for his best friend but pulled back. “What did you do?”

  “Something dumb. I did too much. At least I thought I was doing everything in my capability to make Mila happy.” Blake rubbed a hand over his face. “I just wanted to make Mila happy.”

  The black man cocked an eyebrow. “Well, I must assume you didn’t cheat, but bro, you’re talking riddles. What exactly did you do? My momma raised us better than this.”

  He couldn’t even smile at the mention of Isaac’s mother. He drank the whiskey down, crunched on the ice, and then told Isaac exactly what he had done.

  By the time he was finished, they’d shared three drinks. Isaac was shaking his head. “Man, I can’t even put this shit together. How could your good girl even be associated with a bitch like that?”

  Blake shrugged.

  Isaac poured him another round. “Listen, you had good intentions. That’s all that matters. So what? Mila . . . she kind of stabbed you. We’ve been through worse.” Isaac smiled while rubbing the back of his head. No matter how fresh his fade was, a moon-shaped scar would forever be embedded in the back of his head. “I think I got this the night we learned not to play around. And my moms talked mad shit while she bandaged us up too.”

  Blake almost found himself laughing as he recalled them in the tenth grade. They’d met up with a couple of girls. Isaac had mentioned that the chicks may or may not already have boyfriends, but they were horny teens. Their venture for ass ended in fighting two other guys, and they hadn’t even gotten to second base with the girls yet.

  “Damn, not a laugh, you won’t even crack a smile or comment? I see you’re mad,” Isaac said.

  “I’m f
ucking pissed.” Blake gritted his teeth. “Mila said she didn’t believe I had any intentions with her sister, but damn. I have never seen her act like that.”

  Isaac waved him off. “Look, I’ve been in serious relationships in the past, and always harped on you that you’d find someone after the shit hit the fan with you and Diane. And I distinctively recall during your bachelor party you mentioning that the perfect woman will make a man never want to cheat. Shit, you didn’t have to tell me that. But maybe it resonated with those friends that you have. Get over yourself and listen to your own words.”

  Blake removed the blood-soaked material from his forearm and took a look at the gash. He hadn’t felt the pain when Mila stabbed him. If anything, his pride was hurt that she’d react to Lido the way she did. Mila was so much better than the actions she took tonight. He poured the rest of the Jack Daniels onto the three-inch gash.

  “I’ll call the concierge and see if there’s an on-site doctor.” Isaac rose from his chair. “When you get that cleaned up, we are going to start off your wedding festivities with a bang. Understand?”

  Blake had hardly heard his attempt to get things back on track. He was too busy determining that he’d made a big mistake.

  Mila

  “I remember when I became pregnant with you, Mila.” Mrs. Ali broke through the sound of Mila’s cries.

  “Lido was two. She wanted us to take you back to the hospital. Even at her tender, young age, she realized that she was no longer the baby.”

  Her mother groaned while descending to the floor next to her.

  “After that, Lido dressed you up. Do you know your father could not offer free medical services for one day in our home village in Somali? He was paid in chickens and goats. Anything. The man who became the doctor to save the world had to request that past services were paid in full. All because Lido had to dress her new doll. And she didn’t want cheap clothing for her baby alive. No toy clothing. But good Baby clothes designed by the town seamstress.” Mrs. Ali placed a hand over her mouth to offer a meek laugh. “You were Lido’s doll.”

  “Wh-what happened?” She sniffled.

  “Our home was no good. Very bad place to live. You don’t remember it.” Mrs. Ali waved the past away.

  “I remember,” Mila mumbled. I just don’t recall Lido not being vindictive.

  “You do?”

  Mila told her the fragments of childhood in Somali that she recalled. The good. The bad. The fleeing from death.

  “Oh, my precious child. You do remember.” Her mother huffed. “Then I can’t tell you how or why Lido is who she is. Yasmin is resilient. And you, I always thought you were the most precious gift from God. Too good. You, my dear daughter, saw an ugly world and didn’t allow it to corrupt you.”

  Mrs. Ali placed her palms on the ground and started to stand. “Can you please dress in that pretty barely their material? We are dreadfully late. I am hungry.”

  A smile flickered and wavered across Mila’s mouth. “I think Blake isn’t interested in seeing me right now.”

  “You’ll be surprised how much a man will forgive.”

  “He’s very kind and forgiving. But tonight, I didn’t just cut him.” She almost offered a psychotic chuckle for even being in the position to make such a statement. “Nevertheless, we didn’t just jump into our first family fight. Akari is his business partner’s wife.”

  “I’m old. Not forgetful.”

  “They have a deal on the table. One that has tens of billions of dollars tied to it. Kiyota is very traditional. His wife literally saw me getting into a fist fight—a drag out fist fight. I committed a felony tonight, Mamma. Sheesh, I’ve heard hateful things about being African—the entire continent lumped into the stereotype of fighting lions and tigers in the wilderness—but I was ready to slice and dice my sister.”

  Her mother shrugged. “Humph, seems too bad Akari just saw that.”

  “Mom.” Mila pouted. This time a snort-chuckle came with it.

  “You looked bad, Mila, but don’t underestimate people.” Mrs. Ali said, leading the way into the bedroom. “I may have the habit of stating that something you or your sisters have done is an embarrassment.”

  “I’m sorry, Mother.”

  Mrs. Ali picked up the tiny dress. “But I could never be embarrassed, truly. Still, you girls can disappoint me.”

  “Like I just did?”

  “Exactly. But I’m pretty sure that I can embarrass you.” She handed over the dress.

  “How? Never. And it’s not a good term to use, but, Mother, you have never embarrassed me.”

  “Let me segue us back to the comment you just made, Mila. You referred to Africans running after lions.”

  “Something like that,” Mila sighed, wishing she could take it back.

  “My thick accent. I can just hear people saying, “Go back to Africa,” and what can I say? Black people weren’t born there. I was. You made the wedding perfect I’m sure, without my intrusion.”

  “Oh, Mom. I regret anything I’ve done which has you believing that I didn’t want your help. And I am never embarrassed by you. Never.”

  Mrs. Ali patted her cheek. “You’ve always been my sweet child, Mila.”

  She slid the dress over her head. Due to her fight with Lido, Mila’s bone straight, yet natural grade, hair puffed in a few places.

  Her mother gasped and then sighed.

  “Do I look okay?” Mila asked.

  “Stunning. I must become accustomed to the lack of clothing. Now, sit.” The woman picked up a flat iron and plugged it into the wall. “No leaving this room looking like a goat.”

  “Mama! I do not.” Mila grinned.

  In the mirror, Mila watched as her mother tugged at a mass of hair next to her temple which was sticking straight up. She chortled at Mrs. Ali’s sense of humor, and then her mother had Mila’s hair falling flawlessly to the side as if there had been no issues with her wrap.

  They were in the elevator when Mrs. Ali handed over Mila’s jewelry. Mila clamped on her earrings and had her mother help with her bracelet. The teamwork of adding mascara and lipstick returned Mila to her usual sophisticated beauty. The last twenty minutes didn’t exist when they headed past a bedazzled mirror with an onslaught of diamonds near the restaurant entrance.

  “Mila, Mama.” A familiar voice called out in a discrete, yet loud enough whisper.

  The mother-daughter duo stopped and turned around. Mila offered a wry smile. “Don’t be mad at me, Yas—”

  Yasmin cut her off with a hug. “I love you, sister girl. Listen.” Yasmin let her go. “I just spoke with Lido. She’s leaving for good.”

  “Thanks.”

  “We can, if you want, we can try with her in the future, but this is your weekend.” Yasmin held a serious glint in her eyes.

  “Not sure if I’ll make any attempts in the near future, but I’m liking this ‘we’ stuff.”

  They all hugged with their mother, and then they walked into the restaurant over an hour and a half late. Luckily, Thao believed in a horde of food—and driving up his commission price. The table where Mila and Blake were supposed to sit also had room for her parents, siblings—well, Yasmin and Faaid for now—and Isaac and his sister, Zenobia. Faaid and Isaac were chatting. Mr. Ali scrutinized his food while Zenobia, with the same confused face, leaned over and told the old man something funny. They both tried the meal together. It was pure comedy watching the two of them as they appeared to enjoy the third of seven courses.

  Each head of the table, where Blake and Mila were to sit, was empty. An imaginary vice constricted her throat. Where the hell was Blake? I really screwed up.

  “Congratulations, my beautiful niece,” her uncle said.

  Mila hugged her uncle. With a sigh, she placed on a smiling face and walked around to greet the tiny niche of family and friends who were in attendance tonight. From cousins to aunties, to a few more family members who still resided in Ethiopia, Mila hugged every one of them. Although she wasn’t i
n the mood to play bubbly and happy, she did. Then she ran into Kiyota and Akari.

  Mila greeted Kiyota first, and then Akari. “You’re still here?”

  “Of course. One thing about family is you learn to expect the good and the bad. And those close loved ones . . . will sometimes be the ones who hurt us the most. But family never fails us.” Akari bowed her forehead toward the exit.

  Mila turned around slowly. There Blake stood. He’d traded in the coal gray suit for all black, which always made his dirty blond hair darken and those long eyelashes that framed his emerald eyes even more profound. For all the internal praying that he hadn’t left, her feet failed her now. In slow, measured steps, Mila began to the door. Instead of meeting her halfway, Blake headed toward one of the balcony areas. Warmth crept up her neck as she noticed a few of their family and friends’ expressions change. She knew they were coming to their own conclusions.

  The tables that were outside when they viewed the restaurant a few weeks ago were gone, except for a select few to offer a more secluded feel. Blake leaned against the ledge. The skyrise buildings surrounding them reflected rays of light and cast a glow against his angular jaw. The effect made his jaw appear more rigid. He appeared livid.

  “How is your arm?” She tried, stepping out into the cool air.

  “I’ll survive,” he said. The look in his eye told her he had to get something off his chest. Then his words almost ripped her heart in half.

  “Mila, we can’t get married like this.”