Diamond Life

by Aliya S. King

  “Believe me,” Birdie said. “Please.”

  “I asked you not to do a reality show,” Alex said. “You did one.”

  Birdie lowered his head.

  “I should have known then that you were going to become one of them. I know these people, Birdie! I’ve been reporting on them for ten years. They are entitled. They get whatever they want. As long as they’re selling records, the world is theirs. And now, that’s you. It’s your turn. Enjoy it.”

  “Alex, we can work through—”

  “I’m not working through shit,” Alex spat. “You can work through whatever you want in that house by yourself. I’m staying here, in Brooklyn, where I belong.”

  “Can we talk about it. Please? Please.”

  Alex turned and walked toward the kitchen. Birdie followed. She sat down at the kitchen table and folded her hands.

  “I just want you to leave.”

  “We are building a life together,” Birdie said.

  “Past tense,” Alex said.

  “I’m not leaving until we talk this out.”

  “What is there to talk about?! You cheated. Again.” Alex paused. “I was carrying your baby. A baby we fought tooth and nail for. While you . . .”

  Alex put her hand to her mouth and closed her eyes. She shook her head back and forth and began to cry.

  Birdie couldn’t go to her. He couldn’t even look in her direction. He felt hot tears of shame streaming down his face as he held Alex’s gaze.

  “And you stand here,” Alex said, “and you still lie to me to my face. I thought maybe when you saw me you’d be honest and tell me what happened. But you—”

  “It happened, Alex,” Birdie said. “I did it.”

  Alex looked up at Birdie.

  “What happened, Bird?” she asked, her voice small. “Tell me.”

  “I . . . after the show . . . I had sex with—”

  Alex continued to stare at him.

  “I had sex with some girl I met after the show,” Birdie said. Breath rushed out of his body and his shoulders slumped.

  “Was it worth it?”

  “You know it wasn’t worth—”

  Alex held up a hand.

  “I’ll have my stuff out of the house by the end of the week. I’ll be staying here.”

  “Can we talk about this? Go to counseling? Get therapy? You can’t just walk away like this.”

  “Birdie, I could forgive you. I really could. I just don’t want to. I’ve seen what this world does to relationships. And I should have known that you would be no different. I need to walk away now, with some shred of dignity and self-respect. I can’t be like Beth, letting Z cheat on her. And Josephine, accepting Ras’s affairs. I can’t do it and I won’t do it. I need you to go.”

  On the ride back to New Jersey, Birdie clutched the steering wheel tight and fought back tears. He knew that all the money in the world wouldn’t make up for having that one person in the world who had his back unconditionally. And he knew he’d never have that again. No woman who came along after Alex would ever be on her level. No one would have been there when he had nothing but a few underground hits and a college tour under his belt.

  When he got back to the house, Travis, Daryl, and Corey were playing ball out back. Although he’d only let a few tears escape, his friends noticed right away. This not-so-small fact was ignored by all.

  “What happened with Alex?” Daryl asked.

  Birdie shrugged.

  “She’s bugging out. Said she’s not coming back.”

  “Word?”

  “I told her the truth and she went off.”

  “Why would you do that?!” Daryl said. “Deny ’til you die!”

  “She’s not stupid. The chick is talking to the press.”

  Daryl shrugged.

  “You deny anyway. Then she can forgive you based on the lie. Now that you’ve admitted it, she’ll never take you back.”

  “Maybe we’re not supposed to be together anyway.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “I messed up . . .” said Birdie. “Once. With one stupid chick. And now it’s over forever? I even offered to do some counseling or something. And she’s just like, no. It’s a wrap.”

  Daryl palmed the basketball and then stood behind the three-point line and let it go. Swoosh.

  “So she should leave you if you have sex with lots of chicks,” said Corey. “But not if you just have sex with one?”

  “Whose side are you on?” Birdie asked, snatching the basketball out of his hands. Corey threw up his hands.

  “I’m not on any side,” said Corey. “I just know that if it were the other way around, you wouldn’t have taken her back either.”

  “I’m going inside,” Birdie said.

  “Yo, Bird,” said Corey.

  Birdie stopped walking and turned around.

  “What’s up?”

  “You can’t stop trying to get her back.”

  Birdie moved the sliding doors back and stepped into the den.

  “How long am I supposed to try?”

  Corey shrugged.

  “I can’t tell you that,” he said. “I just know that I gave up on Dana and now she’s married to someone else. If I could go back, I’d stay in her face until she had no choice but to give in.”

  Birdie nodded and went back to his bedroom. From the window he could see Travis, Daryl, and Corey playing horse, loudly jostling each other and laughing.

  The next morning Birdie realized he was actually mad at Alex. Pissed off, even. After everything he’d put her through, he was actually angry that she wasn’t going to give him another chance. He thought about all the pussy he didn’t take and felt like it should have earned him some points. He knew it didn’t make sense to think of fidelity that way. But it didn’t change how he felt. The doorbell rang and Birdie went downstairs to answer it. Jen and Tweet rushed in, laden with balloons, goodie bags, and shopping bags.

  “Daddy!” Tweet shrieked.

  Birdie groaned inwardly. How was he going to tell Tweet about Alex?

  “Hey, Birdie,” said Jennifer, kissing him on the cheek. “Where’s Alex?”

  “How’s my baby girl?” Birdie said, hoisting Tweet up and kissing her on the cheek. “I missed you.”

  “You’re back from far away?” Tweet asked.

  “I’m back.”

  “I went to a birthday party,” Tweet said. “And we made balloon animals. But mine popped and I cried a whole lot and then they made me another one and then I asked them to make one for Alex because she likes balloon animals too!”

  “You take your things upstairs,” Birdie said to Tweet. “I’ll be right up.”

  Jennifer walked into the family room and sat down on the couch. Birdie walked behind her and stayed in the doorway.

  “So where’s Alex?”

  “She’s not here.”

  “I see that, Birdie. Why isn’t she here?”

  “She’s just not here, what’s the big deal?”

  “That chick . . . on the blogs. The one from Australia. Is she telling the truth?”

  “No.”

  “Birdie, do you know why we got divorced?”

  “We got married too young.”

  “That’s part of it. But the real reason we broke up is because you didn’t want to fight for me when things got tough.”

  Birdie folded his arms across his chest and listened.

  “I’m seeing you on television now,” said Jen. “I’m hearing you on the radio. People are”—Jen paused—“lying about having sex with you. And I know your life is changing in ways I can’t even imagine. If I were still married to you, I don’t know how I would take it.”

  Birdie just nodded.

  “If you want things to work with your wife, you’re going to have to fight for her.”

  “And what if she doesn’t want me to fight for her?” Birdie asked.

  Jen stood up and walked past Birdie toward the front door.

  “Fight har
der.”

  As soon as Jake dropped the microphone, he jogged off stage and headed to his dressing room. He could still hear the roar of the crowd. They were chanting his name and singing the chorus to the last song he performed.

  This time, for the first time, Jake was not moved.

  Normally, the first moments after the end of a show were like being high. Having ten thousand people yelling out your name could do wonders for a man’s ego. But this time, he felt nothing. He just wanted to go home and go to bed. Reality hit him: Jake was done. Not just for tonight. But forever.

  Crowded outside his dressing room were a gaggle of people: two of his usual bodyguards, a few reporters, a girl he’d slept with the night before who sometimes cut his hair, and some people from his label who came out to support him.

  He opened the dressing room and saw his assistant Sydney and his publicist Dylan going over his schedule. Damon and Joey were throwing back beers and watching television on the mounted plasma.

  “He can’t be there for the boat christening,” said Dylan. “He’s doing Good Morning America.”

  “I’m not doing Good Morning America,” Jake whispered, realizing as he said it that he actually meant it.

  “What if we move GMA to the following Thursday?”

  “No good. Diane Sawyer will be on vacation.”

  “Don’t matter,” Jake said under his breath. “I won’t be there . . .”

  “When is Jake’s opening up in AC?”

  “Saturday the twenty-second. Everyone needs to be on board for that.”

  “I’m selling Jake’s,” Jake mumbled under his breath.

  Jake took a seat on a black leather couch and mopped his face with a brand new-white T-shirt.

  “Ladies?”

  The two women ignored him and continued going over their calendars.

  “I can have him in Sweden for the Forbes shoot.”

  “And then it’s Australia for the rest of the month.”

  “Can we squeeze him into Birdie’s next video shoot?”

  “When is it?”

  “Saturday.”

  Sydney looked over at Jake.

  “Can you do Birdie’s video?”

  “Oh, now you see me?”

  “Sorry, Jake. I’m trying to make sure your schedule isn’t so packed that you’re cursing me out.”

  “I appreciate that. And no, I’m not doing Birdie’s video. Or the Forbes shoot. And I’m not spending the rest of the month in Australia.”

  Sydney and Dylan stopped talking. Jake watched them fidget and then he took a sip from his water bottle. Sydney grimaced.

  “What’s the problem?” he said, daring her to mention the smell of alcohol permeating the room.

  Damon and Joey picked up on the tension and they both stopped talking, their beer bottles in mid-air.

  “Nothing,” Sydney said. She turned back to Dylan and they exchanged a quick look that didn’t escape Jake. Damon and Joey went back to watching television.

  “Yo, I sent two tickets to someone named Lily. Did she come to the show?”

  Sydney shook her head.

  “Those tickets were never scanned.”

  Jake nodded slowly.

  Jake had finally found out that Lily was working at the bar at the W Hotel in Union Square. He went in several times looking for her and she was never there. She was always off-duty or on a break. But Jake got the distinct impression that she was hiding from him. One night, he was almost positive he saw a woman who looked just like her coming out of the kitchen with her head down. And then just as quickly, the woman turned back around and the kitchen doors swung shut behind her. Jake asked the bartender where she was and he said she was off that night.

  Tonight, he had sent Damon over to the hotel with tickets and VIP passes to the show. Damon said she wasn’t there but that the manager attached the tickets to her paycheck, which she was on her way to pick up.

  Jake wasn’t even sure exactly why he wanted to see her. He just knew he did. He wanted to see those liquid pools in her eyes. He wanted to hear her voice, honey smooth and clipped with an accent he couldn’t place. And of course, he desperately wanted whatever he couldn’t have on demand.

  Jake continued drinking while Sydney and Dylan kept their heads down, pretending to be engrossed in their notepads, calendars, and PDAs.

  The best part of Jake’s celebrity was also the worst: no one stood up to him. Jake stood up, crossed the room, and opened a fresh bottle of gin that sat on a mobile bar. He poured the clear liquid into his water bottle and went back to the couch.

  “We’re gonna go, Jake,” Dylan said. “Do you need anything?”

  “I’m telling you,” said Jake. “You need to completely clear my schedule. I’m not doing anything right now.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Is there a car ready?”

  “It’s at the back, ready whenever you are.”

  Jake nodded and leaned his head back on the sofa.

  “I’ll see y’all in the morning.”

  Jake hiccoughed and then swigged from his bottle again.

  “Be careful, Jake,” said Dylan. “Jackson Figueroa is hanging out by your car tonight. He’s definitely going to get some flicks of you when you leave. So you might want to—”

  Dylan let her eyes linger on his water bottle.

  “I’ll be fine,” Jake said. “Thanks. Good night.”

  As soon as the two women opened the door, Jake could see that the number of people outside his room had tripled and a few bodyguards were aggressively holding people back from coming too close to the door.

  “Not going out tonight, Jake?” Damon asked.

  “Nah. I’m going home.”

  Damon and Joey each slapped palms with Jake and left the room, fighting back the small crowd gathered at the door. Tonight, Jake wasn’t taking anyone home. No groupies. None of his boys. No one. He was going to have Boo clear the hallway, grab his stuff, and head for home—alone. Jake had some things he needed to work out in his head. And he needed some peace and quiet to do it.

  The door opened and Boo’s massive face was in the room.

  “You ready, Boss?” he asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Boo led the way for Jake, walking him down the hallway. When they reached the exit, Boo opened the heavy door first and peered out.

  “Small crowd. Wanna try a different exit? I can have the driver come around.”

  “Nah, let’s go.”

  Boo pushed through a dozen or so kids holding cameras and phones. Jake slapped hands with a few and took a picture with one young girl who looked like she might faint. Boo opened the door of the Suburban and closed it after Jake climbed in.

  “It’s about time,” said Bunny.

  Jake nearly jumped out of his skin.

  “What the hell are you doing in here?”

  “Waiting for you.”

  Boo heard Jake yell out and he opened the car door. He looked inside, saw Bunny, and pointed at her.

  “Yo!” Boo barked. “Out of the car.”

  Jake waved Boo off, closed the car door, and then pressed his face against the car window and peered outside.

  “Who saw you get in this car?!”

  “Would you calm down,” Bunny said. “No one saw me.”

  Jake didn’t take his face away from the car window.

  “Jackson is out there right now snapping away. How do you know he didn’t see you?”

  “Because I was in this car long before he got there. I’ve been in here practically since the show started.”

  “Now tell me why.”

  Bunny sat up in her seat across from Jake.

  “You haven’t returned any of my calls or my text messages. I don’t like that shit.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Jake asked, his top lip curled up. “I don’t care what you don’t like.”

  Bunny’s mouth dropped.

  “Why are you talking to me like that? Have you
been drinking?”

  “Yeah, I have been drinking.” Jake held up his water bottle; the liquid swished around inside of it. “But that has nothing to do with why you don’t belong in the back seat of my car.”

  “I wanted to talk to you. And you’ve been blowing me off.”

  “Mr. Giles, should we go?” asked the driver.

  “Not to my house,” Jake said. “Just drive.”

  The driver pulled out of the stadium parking lot and headed onto the turnpike.

  “How come you’ve never taken me back to your place?”

  “Because you don’t belong there.”

  “But Sam does?”

  “How do you know about her?”

  “Everyone knows about her. She used to mess with Z. And now you’re knocking her down every once in a while. Common knowledge.”

  “What else do you know?”

  “I know you’re catching feelings for me and you don’t know what to do about it.”

  “It’s over.”

  “No it’s not.”

  Jake looked up and leveled his eyes at the young girl staring at him.

  “It should have never happened. But it did.”

  Bunny crossed her leg, letting her thigh slip between the split in her skirt.

  “Yup, it did.”

  “It was wrong from the door. And I’ll pay the price for it. But it ends now. Where do you want me to drop you off?”

  “Drop me off?” Bunny said, her eyes locked onto Jake’s face. “You can’t just drop me off somewhere.”

  “Do you want to go home?”

  “Take me to the Parker Meridien. So I can tell Zander what happened between his girlfriend and his beloved uncle.”

  Jake sighed. And this is why you didn’t have sex with your nephew’s teenaged girlfriend. He opened his water bottle, took a heavy swallow, and forced it down.

  “Do what you gotta do,” he said.

  “You don’t care if I tell Zander?”

  Jake leaned up to the driver.

  “The Parker Meridien,” Jake said. “Fifty-sixth and Seventh.”

  The driver nodded and Jake looked back at Bunny.

  “You do whatever you need to do. Just don’t contact me anymore.”

  “I’m signed to your label. How do we handle that?”

  “If I have to drop you from the label to get the point across, I will.”

  “Picture that!” Bunny said. “And keep Zander? You’d lose your job by the close of business day.”