Money Never Sleeps

by Tu-Shonda Whitaker

  “She was a stripper?” Bridget giggled and gasped. “Continue Chaunci.” She clapped her hands.

  “Of course, she was a stripper. What else would the cheap bitch be? Did you see her shoes?”

  “Pay-to-the-less,” Milan added. “I ain’t sayin’, but I’m just sayin’, that Idris went to the bottom of the sea with that one.”

  “Did you expect something like this from Idris?” Bridget asked.

  “I expect anything from a man,” Chaunci said.

  “Especially a bitch-ass one,” Milan added.

  “True, indeed,” Chaunci agreed. “And this move he made, just proved I was right the first time. My mistake was second-guessing myself. Which is why, when this ho divorces his ass and takes half his damn money, he cannot come back to me!” She cocked her head to the side, flipping her hair behind her ear.

  “Are you ready?” Milan asked. “You know the bitches are waiting.”

  Chaunci tucked her Hermès clutch beneath her arm. “Well, my dear, in that case we should leave.” She batted her lashes. “It’s never been my style to keep any bitch waiting.”

  The Club

  An evening rainbow of amber and indigo danced in the sky, casting its beauty over Vera’s exclusive yacht. It was a diamond of the water, filled with heated marble floors, three bedrooms, an all-white living room, original artwork, hand-carved wooden trim, a formal dining room, an infinity pool, and three decks.

  Vera placed small tokens—beauty baskets containing Volume, her line of hair products, as well as sugar scrubs and satin lotions—in each of her guests’ chairs.

  She stood back and admired the way her staff had filled the table with oysters, clams, shrimp, lobster, caviar, yellow rice, spinach salad, and chilled bottles of wine. Light jazz provided a mellow backdrop as she walked onto the front deck and looked toward the pier.

  “So what do you ladies think of Vera inviting you onto her yacht for dinner this evening?” Bridget asked Milan, Chaunci, and Jaise as they rode in the limo sipping Pinot Grigio.

  “I really don’t know what to think of it,” Chaunci said. “I mean, we just saw her two days ago and already she’s extending dinner invites?”

  “I think she’s trying a little too hard,” Milan added.

  “She’s trying to be friendly,” Jaise said.

  “I only came to be polite.” Milan sipped her drink.

  “Yeah, really,” Chaunci said. “I was so surprised when my assistant brought me this formal invitation and it read ‘Dine on the Hudson with Vera Bennett’ as if this was supposed to be an exclusive event.” She pointed out the window toward Vera’s yacht, which was only a short distance away, “And, I mean, it’s … okay.”

  “But it’s not all that.” Milan refreshed her drink.

  “Wow,” Jaise said, impressed. “And when’s the last time you two ladies went yacht shopping? Just curious.”

  Silence.

  “That’s what I thought,” Jaise said as she pulled her compact from her purse and checked her makeup.

  “Jaise, why do you always disagree with everything we say?” Chaunci asked.

  “That shit is such a pain in the ass.” Milan lifted her eyes toward the heavens, as if she were searching for patience.

  “My opinion is a pain in your ass, Milan?” Jaise snapped her compact shut. “Well, your truth is a pain in my ass. Every time I see you with Kendu, I think about how he was married to Evan and you couldn’t respect that. Every time I see my godchild, Aiyanna, and she thinks you’re the best replacement mommy in the world, I get pissed off. So it seems to me that we just may be even.”

  “Honestly, Jaise, I don’t give a damn what you think,” Milan retorted. “You don’t know my or Kendu’s story, so stay in your lane.”

  “Stay in my lane? And what does that mean?” Jaise said. “Is that some South-Bronx hood lingo?”

  “Would you like me to get South-Bronx hood on your ass, Jaise?”

  “Milan,” Chaunci interjected. “Don’t feed into that. You know she’ll jump ship in a minute. Pun intended. First she wanted to be nice and make up with us, and now she’s BFF with the new girl.”

  “Whatever.” Jaise waved her hand as if they could be easily dismissed. “And how high school are you? I don’t know Vera. And anybody who was born a drug baby I’m a little hesitant of. But she invited us here and the least we can do is be respectful. Hell, she realizes there’s a pecking order and she’s on the bottom. She’s trying to make an impression. Let her do that. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “All I wanna know, Carl,” Al-Taniesha spat as she and Lollipop stormed up the pier and onto the yacht, “is why you ain’t been at my crib taping me and Lollipop?”

  Carl didn’t respond.

  “You hear me, Carl?” Al-Taniesha pointed at him. “I know you hear me!” She placed her hands on her hips, causing her one-shoulder dress, with dollar bills printed all over it, to rise and reveal the ripples in her thighs.

  Al-Taniesha looked at Lollipop, who rocked a cherry-red catsuit, designed with flames that rose from the crotch and burned up to the V-neck. “Stay calm, Niesha,” he said. “Stay calm.”

  “Oh, I’ma stay calm. I’ma calmly go the fuck off.” She wiggled her neck. “Carl!”

  No response.

  “When. The. Hell. Are. Y’all. Comin’. To my mo’fuckin’ spot?”

  Nothing.

  “Oh, you a mime now?” Al-Taniesha moved her hands as if she were climbing a wall. “Do you understand I’ma hook your ass if you don’t tell me something?”

  “You have to talk to Bridget,” Carl whispered.

  “Don’t put this shit off on Bridget. She’s the one who told me that the next time I saw your ass I needed to call you out on camera because then you wouldn’t have a choice but to be honest.”

  “I told you it’s ’cause we live in the projects, Niesha,” Lollipop said, clearly pissed. “I told you we needed another crib.”

  Al-Taniesha spun on her heel toward Lollipop. “Is you trippin’ on dumb shit again? Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t giving up my rent-subsidized apartment? Didn’t I? Fuck that. Motherfuckers too busy ’round here with their priorities fallin’ out their asses, buyin’ houses and boats.” She waved her hands in the air. “A buncha retarded shit, yet they on antidepressants. Buncha unhappy hoes who’ve fucked their kids all up.” She pointed to where Jaise, Milan, and Chaunci were walking up the pier. “Just like Jaise’s son is running around being led by his dick like he’s stupid as hell.”

  “Dumb,” Lollipop signified.

  Al-Taniesha carried on. “Which is why at the end of the day, what do any of them have? Nothing. So busy trying to keep up with the Joneses.”

  “Why do you have to bring up the Joneses?” Lollipop growled. “Fuck the Joneses. I used to whip the Joneses’s asses in high school. Hmph, especially after they walked the halls calling me sensitive and shit. Rafique ‘Lickin’ Lollipop’ Gatling is a lotta things but sensitive is not one of ’em.” He dabbed at the corners of his eyes.

  “I told you to ignore those bitches, Lollipop.” Al-Taniesha rubbed his back. “Fuck ’em.”

  “You’re right, Niesha. You’re right.”

  “I know I am. Just like I’m right about these tramps who think they’re so much, spending a fortune to own an apartment.”

  “That’s what we need to do, Niesha. Buy an apartment.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Sensitive?” Al-Taniesha said, pissed.

  He wagged his finger at her. “Don’t call me that!”

  Al-Taniesha continued. “Our rent is five hundred fifty-five dollars, and thirty-nine cents, heat and hot water included. What exactly do you think we’re gonna pay for a mortgage in New York City? Hell, we already live on the top floor, got a view and a balcony, and our shit is decked. Now what’s the problem? This is a reality show and we keepin’ it real.”

  Lollipop snapped, “I wanna keep it real over at a condo on Madison Avenue.”

  “And who gon’ pay for that?
You spent your half of the money on catsuits. Yo’ shit is done. I’m trying to start me a megachurch. I told you I gotta damn calling for my life and you playing games. And besides, that was my lottery ticket!”

  “Hear this calling, Niesha, I gave you the damn dollar for that ticket. Now don’t get it twisted.”

  “You the king of twisted, want everybody to call you ‘Lick’ all of a sudden.”

  “I told you that was my stage name for the show!”

  “But they didn’t cast you for RuPaul’s Drag Race, so I don’t understand the name change.”

  “Don’t get to showin’ off!”

  Al-Taniesha looked him over. “And. What. In. The. Hell. Is you gon’ do?”

  Lollipop walked behind Al-Taniesha and spoke against her neck. “I’ma bend dat ass over.” He gripped her hips and growled against her neck. “And I’ma knock er’ single cobweb out yo’ ass.” He pumped her twice.

  Al-Taniesha shivered and turned toward Lollipop. She slid her arms around his neck. “Oh, baby. I swear this is why I’m so glad me and my mother signed up to be prison pen pals and I found you and she found her a lifer.”

  “My baby came to see me every Sunday.” Lollipop squeezed her.

  “And I was at those gates when they released you, baby.”

  “And we’ve been riding ever since.”

  “Good ole Lollipop.” She stroked his crotch and they started to kiss.

  “Oh, my God,” Jaise said as she walked past them. “Throw. Up. In. My. Mouth.”

  “Why is he always around every time we get together?” Milan asked.

  “Seriously,” Chaunci added.

  “What those bitches say?” Al-Taniesha asked, breaking away from her and Lollipop’s kiss.

  “Welcome to the Skyy Bennett,” Vera’s assistant said, then smiled at the ladies, welcoming them onto the yacht, which was affectionately named after Vera and Taj’s daughter. “Mrs. Bennett is putting some finishing touches on a few things,” she continued. “And while she does that I’d love to offer you ladies a tour.”

  “You can tell this bitch is new money,” Jaise mumbled to Chaunci. “She couldn’t come out and greet us herself?” She smiled at Vera’s assistant, then said, “I’d love a tour and I’m sure the other ladies would as well.”

  Afterward, the women were escorted into the dining area. Their expressions revealed how impressed they were.

  “This yacht—” Jaise walked over and kissed Vera on both cheeks—“is absolutely stunning.”

  “And you are absolutely two-faced,” Chaunci said softly.

  “What was that, Chaunci?” Vera asked. “I didn’t hear you.”

  “I was just saying,” Chaunci said as she greeted Vera, “that the yacht’s maintenance must be a pretty penny.”

  Jaise rolled her eyes and looked toward the camera. “Only new money would talk about money. My God.”

  Al-Taniesha placed her hands on her hips. “This shit here is like the floating B.E.T. awards. Looks fly, presents well, but there are still some ghetto motherfuckers in the audience.”

  “Amen,” Lollipop said.

  Choosing to ignore Al-Taniesha, Jaise said, “Thank you for inviting us.”

  “Thank you for coming,” Vera said. “Sit down, ladies and let’s have some drinks and dinner.”

  “Oh, this is cute.” Milan picked up the basket from her chair.

  “Thank you,” Vera said. “That’s for you ladies to take with you. It’s from my hair-care line, Volume.”

  “Oh, the dressed-up sulfur 8.” Milan looked toward Jaise. “Isn’t that what you called it?”

  “Yes,” Jaise nodded. “And I meant it in the nicest way.”

  “Hmph,” Vera said. “I was going to wait until we at least had dinner, but since we’re on the topic of what you all have said, let’s discuss.”

  Jaise picked up her fork and ate a shrimp. “I think we should just let the past be the past.”

  “It will be. Right after I set a few things straight,” Vera assured Jaise. “Now, Bridget read an article to me.” Vera placed the tabloid on the table. “And it seems you ladies had a few interesting comments about me.”

  “That had to be Jaise’s.” Chaunci stabbed her finger into the paper. “I don’t deal with tabloids.”

  “Don’t put that shit off on me,” Jaise spat. “They called all of us and we all commented.”

  “Except me.” Al-Taniesha waved her hand. “So don’t get me mixed up in your bullshit.”

  “I can’t help it if people come looking for me,” Milan said. “I mean, your ex-boyfriend called my publicist.”

  “And what exactly do you need a publicist for?” Jaise snapped. “How to gold-dig?”

  Milan spat “Bitch—”

  “Look,” Vera interjected. “Let’s stick to the matter at hand.”

  “Which is what?” Chaunci asked.

  “That you three talk too fuckin’ much. Period.” Vera paused, giving the women a chance to respond. When they didn’t, she continued. “Now, I’m not one for a buncha cackling behind other people’s back. TV didn’t invent me—”

  “Or me either,” Chaunci said. “I have my own shit.”

  “Then we understand each other,” Vera said. “Don’t gun for me and I won’t have to shoot you.”

  “You’re way out of line,” Chaunci insisted.

  “I know you didn’t get us in the middle of the Hudson to start an argument.” Milan shook her head. “You’re being really messy right now, Vera.”

  “Oh, puhlease, every bitch here is a mess,” Vera said, pissed. “Now, like I said, my intentions were to speak to you ladies over dinner, maybe have a decent discussion and hash this out, because I realize that you don’t know me and I wanted to give you that opportunity. But since you’re bringing it to me all willy-nilly rah-rah style, then that’s how we’re gon’ handle it.” Vera’s Brooklyn accent had completely taken over. “So get this—watch what the hell you say. ’Cause you don’t know shit about me. You don’t pay my bills, you’re not my man, you can’t match my money, and you’re not my homegirls or my goddamn family, so keep my name outcha mouth when I’m not around. ’Cause where I’m from, chicks get their asses beat for shit like that.”

  “A thug in a cocktail dress,” Al-Taniesha spat. “This is my type of motherfucker right here.” She reached across the table and slapped Vera five. “On the blackhand side.” She turned her palm down.

  “Yeah,” Lollipop added. “She handling that shit.”

  “I don’t take kindly to threats,” Chaunci said.

  “I haven’t threatened you,” Vera said. “Stop putting words in my mouth. I’m just letting you all know that you need to watch what the fuck you say. That’s all I’m saying.” She waved her hands. “Watch. What. The. Fuck. You. Say. Now, I can be your best friend or your worst enemy. You choose.”

  “Pow!” Al-Taniesha said as she pulled a large jar of Vaseline from her purse and slammed it on the table in front of them. “Just in case.” She looked at Vera and flung her head to the side for emphasis.

  “Now are we cool?” Vera asked. “Or is it a problem?”

  “How about this,” Jaise said. “I know that sometimes we all say things we don’t mean. And I am definitely one for being the bigger person. So if I said anything to offend you, Vera, I’m truly sorry. Because I really would like to get to know you and move on.”

  “You are such a fuckin’ punk.” Al-Taniesha shook her head.

  “I agree with Jaise.” Milan rolled her eyes. “We do have to move on. And maybe I said a few things that I shouldn’t have, and if what I said offended you, then I apologize as well.”

  “I just think this was really uncalled-for.” Chaunci crossed her legs. “I don’t have a problem with moving on, but I do have a problem with some of the things you said, Vera.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Vera added.

  “Let’s just call a truce,” Jaise said, picking up her glass of wine.

  “Sounds
like a plan.” Vera held her glass in the air. “Truce.”

  “Truce,” Milan, Jaise, and Chaunci said simultaneously as they clinked their glasses.

  “Uhmm-hmm.” Al-Taniesha twisted her lips and looked at Vera. “I’m all for a truce. But all I’ma say is this.” She pointed to the other women. “Watch ’em. That’s all I’ma say. Watch ’em. ’Cause it’s only a matter of time before one of these heifers shows her ass again.”

  A Week Later …

  Jaise

  The smell of sweet potato pancakes, cheese and eggs, grits, country bacon, maple ham steaks, and apple turnovers filled Jaise’s kitchen as she leaned against her lava countertop and proudly inhaled the scents.

  A nervous smile made its way to her face as she felt the ship that had taken up residence in her stomach sinking. In an effort to help it move along, she reached for her vintage mirrored cigarette case and tried to open the clasp. She fumbled.

  Fuck.

  The ship sank further.

  She closed her eyes.

  Get it together.

  Slowly she slid her thumb over the cigarette case’s clasp. After a few tries it finally popped open and revealed a full tray of Virginia Slims. Jaise slid one to her lips and lit it. The seductive taste of nicotine mixed with the food’s aroma and made her feel lighter. Smoking while she cooked was not a habit; it’s just that when things were fucked-up she had to cling to her vices: cigarettes and food. And in that order.

  How the hell am I going to tell him this shit? Jaise took a few steady tokes and then flicked the half-smoked cigarette into the brick fireplace. Before she could answer her own question, Bilal’s keys were rattling the backdoor and he was stepping over the threshold.

  Showtime …

  “Good morning, Mrs. Asante.” He walked up behind her and tapped wet kisses softly along the violin curve of her neck.

  “Good morning, baby.” Goosebumps rose on her skin as she melted into his kisses. “How was your night at work?” she asked him as the last kiss was placed below her right earlobe. Her eyes scanned the stove’s clock: nine a.m. “I know you like to have a hot breakfast before you hit the sack.” She did her best to sound sincere.