“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“And what do you say to the opposition?”
“I say, to hell with whatever angry cave-bitch started the opposing rumor.” She put her hand on her hips. “Because clearly, she has never met me.” She snapped her fingers. “Thank you very much.” She smiled as Carl faded to the background and she proudly took a seat next to the door and waited.
And waited.
And just as she thought that she’d watched what seemed like a million people come and go she realized she’d waited over an hour.
Where is he?
She pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed Taj’s number. No answer.
Try again. She did. Nothing. “Taj, honey,” she said into his voice mail. “I’m at the airport waiting. Please hurry. See you soon. Love you.”
Another hour of unanswered and unreturned phone calls. Vera tapped her fingers on the edge of her seat. It was at times like this that she hated filming.
Where is he?
Something happened.
Stop. Thinking. The. Worst.
He’s fine. His phone probably died. You know he’s the worst when it comes to charging his phone.
True.
Deciding she couldn’t wait a moment longer Vera walked out of the airport, hailed a cab, and she, Carl, and the camera slid in.
“257 Fifth and Park, please,” she said to the cabbie.
Vera turned her head away from Carl and toward the window. New York City traffic whipped by in blurry snippets as the taxi driver burned up the highway, only to be forced to slow down once he reached the surface streets.
Vera pulled her phone from her purse and tried Taj again. No answer.
Where is he?
He’s fine. Just focus on getting some wine and making some love.
Friday-afternoon traffic was at a complete standstill. The cars moved like turtles, and blaring horns roared like lions. It was a jungle, a bumper-to-bumper mess that apparently caused hallucinations. At least Vera thought so, because she had to be mistaken when she thought she’d spotted Taj, sitting at an outdoor café with his face contorted and his finger pointed at a slender mahogany-colored woman who looked just as upset as he did, if not even more so.
That’s not him, Vera thought as the cabbie danced through traffic, only to be halted by the next traffic light.
The light changed and they crept down another block.
That was him.
No, it wasn’t.
The cabbie picked up a little speed but was then cut off by a biker and forced to slam on his brakes, missing the green light by milliseconds.
That was him. Vera quickly stuffed two twenties in the pocket of the Plexiglas divider. “I have to go!”
“I can’t let you out in the middle of the street!” the cabbie yelled as Vera flew out, leaving the door open for Carl, who practically fell out behind her. They hopscotched through traffic as she made her way across the street. She had three blocks to go.
One block.
Relax. It could be a business meeting.
“I just feel like there’s so much I need to tell you.” Taj’s voice drove nails into Vera’s head as she thought about the night he miraculously became supportive of everything she wanted to do.
Two blocks.
“Excuse me,” she could hear Carl say from behind as they squeezed through the thick mob of people crowding the block.
Three. Vera slowed down, almost as if her batteries were giving out. She spotted Taj. But instead of rushing toward him she slowly walked. Stood back. Watched his face. He was pissed. The woman he was with had tears swimming in her eyes.
Vera wanted like hell to be mistaken.
Prayed to be mistaken.
And wishing her intuition would flee, but it yanked her by the throat and whispered in her ear, “This is not a good thing.” If it didn’t flee, she was convinced she’d have to give in to the voice that told her to kill him.
Carl scurried behind Vera, finally catching up. She could hear him gasp as the rubber soles of his sneakers screeched.
Beads of sweat ran along the side of Vera’s temples as she swept her hair out of her face.
The summer evening sun beat against her back as she looked into Taj’s face and he looked into hers.
She could see him thinking about what he needed to say. She wanted to give him a moment. She knew Taj was the kind of man who chose his words carefully, but he was taking too fucking long.
“I’m Vera, Taj’s wife.” She turned to the woman, hating that they were sizing each other up. “And you are?” She held out one hand.
“Dion.” She left Vera’s hand dangling. “His son’s mother.”
Jaise
It was all a lie. All of it. Every day, from the wee morning hour when Jaise rose and ran her hands across their cold bedsheets to the midnight hour when she turned to Bilal and kissed him down his spine only to be greeted with nothing. Absolutely nothing.
No hard dick.
No kiss.
No suckling her breasts, which used to be his favorite thing to do.
Nothing. But then again, maybe his nothing really was something.
Suddenly and without warning her life had literally become lights, camera, action.
“Hi, sweetie.” Jaise smiled at Bilal as he walked in the front door, tossing his keys on the kitchen island. “How was work?” she asked. Not giving him a chance to respond, she continued. “I’m sure you had a tough night. Are you hungry?” she asked in a rush. She didn’t want too much time between her words because she couldn’t take any chances on Bridget noticing Bilal’s dryness, especially since most of their conversations had been reduced to how good dinner was and how he was working late again. “I made you a nice breakfast, darling.”
Jaise wondered if she sounded like Paula Deen.
She smiled into the camera as she pointed to each dish. “Grits, bacon, cheese and eggs, freshly baked biscuits, and Grandma’s molasses.”
“Jaise—”
Don’t let him talk. “Work was good, baby?”
“Jaise—”
“I know you must be tired.” She placed his food in front of him.
“Jaise—”
“Coffee or orange juice?”
“Jaise!”
“What?” she said, startled, sucking her stomach in, her breath lodged in her chest. She hoped like hell she didn’t just provide him a passageway to say something no one—not even Jaise—needed to hear.
She stared at him, her eyes pleading for him to be quiet, but she couldn’t tell whether he’d caught on or not. All she knew was that he was no good at faking reality-TV style.
“I love you,” he said.
She set a full plate of food before him. “I love you too, honey, but you need to eat so you can get some sleep. I’m sure they worked you like a dog at the station.”
“Jaise.” He reached across the table and grabbed her hands. “I didn’t go to work.”
You better not drop one single tear. “You know what they say.” She forced a smile, sliding her hands from between his. “When you do what you love, you’ll never work again in your life. Now eat.”
“Goddamn, Jaise!” he screamed, pushing his plate away. “Listen to me. I don’t want shit to eat! Fuck!” The plate crashed to the floor and the food flew across the room.
Jaise could hear Bridget whispering, “Focus, Carl, focus.”
“How long are we gon’ do this shit? I’m tired.” Bilal shook his head.
“You worked all night. Of course you’re tired. Now eat.”
“Don’t say that shit again! Look at me.” He grabbed her tightly by the forearms, causing her body to shake and tears to drip from her eyes. “I’m tired and I can’t do this shit anymore.”
“Bilal—”
“Shut up!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “Do you know where I was last night? I wasn’t at work. I wasn’t. I went out with someone.”
“You did what?
” She jerked her arms away from him.
“I went on a date. A fuckin’ date!”
Jaise stumbled. She’d heard wrong, she must have. “You’re cheating on me? I can’t believe this.” She lost her breath.
“What the hell did you expect to happen?” he snapped. “I didn’t fuck her. I didn’t, because the whole night I kept thinking about you. I love you, but you’re so busy running around here with Jabril that you’re pushing me away. Don’t you see I’m five seconds from running out the fuckin’ door?”
“So you cheat on me! That’s the answer?”
“No, it’s not the answer, but it’s real and I did that shit. But what I realized is that I don’t need another woman. I don’t want another woman. I want my wife. I need my wife.” The veins in his neck stood out and he pounded on the kitchen table. “I love you and I’m begging you to love me.”
“You don’t have to beg me to love you!”
“Then what do I have to do, Jaise? Because you couldn’t possibly be in love with me. When’s the last time we made love?”
“You don’t turn to me!”
“Because you won’t face reality!” Tears dripped from his face. “Do you know how I feel? There was a time when you were my best friend, my soul mate, but I don’t even know you anymore.”
“I’m doing the best I can! I can’t be everything to everybody!”
“All I need you to be is my wife.”
“I am your wife! But you expect me to stop being a mother.”
“No, I expect you to stop breast-feeding a grown goddamn man! I need you. And you’re so busy saving Jabril’s ass that you’d rather die than let him be a man.”
“I’m trying to teach him.”
“You’re his fuckin’ problem. He’s not a man because you don’t want him to be!”
“That’s not true!”
“You know what, Jaise? I didn’t sign up for this shit. I signed up for a wife.”
“And what the hell am I?”
“A stranger.” He snatched his keys off the island. “Don’t look for me in the morning, because I won’t be coming back. I’m done.”
Jaise stood in the center of the floor. She wondered if she’d just dreamed this scene. She looked around the kitchen at the food splattered on the floor. She could smell the lingering scent of Bilal’s cologne. He’d been here … and he’d left …
She lost her balance. She fell to the floor. Tears slid down her neck.
Vera
Here was the plan: Give a great performance on camera, act like she could handle what had happened to her, and when Bridget left, lose her mind.
Vera walked toward Taj’s home office and her plum Alexander McQueens clicked like mad drums as she walked what felt like the pathway to death.
Just listen to what he has to say. Listen for the reasons he’s been living a lie and I’ve been living a lie. Listen for the reasons I saw him with another woman who announced that she was his son’s mother. What son? Surely I heard wrong. Surely everybody heard wrong: the blogs, the gossip sites, the tabloids. It was all wrong. It has to be.
Vera sucked in a deep breath and flung the door to the office open.
Taj spun around toward her in his chair. His eyes were red with tears as he stood up and faced her. “Vera—”
“Taj,” she said. A nervous smile crept onto her face and rattled her voice. “I, umm, wanted to talk to you for a minute.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, baby, let’s talk, please. I don’t want you to think I cheated on you. I didn’t,” he said in a hurry as if his time to explain was soon to expire.
As if she hadn’t heard a word he said, she said, “I need to know if I heard correctly yesterday. If I saw correctly. Did I see you with another woman? Do you have another child? Or am I going crazy? Am I losing my mind?”
“No, Vera.” He reached for her. “I should’ve said something to you, but I just found out and I didn’t know how to tell you—”
“So it’s true.” She could feel her original plan for handling this quickly going to hell.
“Yes, but I need you to hear me out.”
Suddenly Vera was in Oz. Or maybe it was space. Or maybe she’d floated to the dimension just beyond shocked, breathless, and anxiously restless. This was not how shit was supposed to end or, hell, begin again. Especially since she was willing to sacrifice a moment of sanity for a lie.
But he didn’t lie.
He told the truth, and the truth had just rendered her lifeless.
“So I haven’t lost my mind. It’s you. You’ve gone fucking crazy,” Vera said calmly. “Okay.”
“Vera, please,” Taj begged. “I have a lot I need to say to you. A lot needs to be said.”
“You’re right,” she agreed. “A lot needs to be said.” She paused. “So why don’t you call up every fuckin’ blog, newspaper, tabloid, and every-other-goddamn-body who has my ass blasted all over the Internet and explain to them why the fuck you have another baby. And how in the hell you, Dr. Perfect, lied to me and left me in the dark. And if you can’t pull that out of your ass, Taj, then don’t explain shit to me!”
Just stay calm, she thought.
I’ma stay calm.
Maybe I should leave.
Vera felt as if she walked on uneven stilts as she moved from Taj’s office to their master suite. He followed her.
She felt her heart squeeze tightly beneath her breasts, and a pain shot up her arm.
“Vera, let me explain.”
“Explain what?” She spun around toward him. “Explain to whom? I don’t want to hear shit you have to say—” She paused. Tears choked her and snatched her voice. She swallowed and once again thought of dropping the argument. Let it go.
She turned toward the door to leave, and as she stepped over the threshold it hit her that her life had fallen apart. It had all crumbled on top of her. There was no way she could turn and walk away as if it was okay. No way in hell.
She whipped back into the room and over to their walk-in closet. The tears she’d fought to hold back snuck past the corners of her eyes and streamed along the sides of her nose.
“Maybe I’ll go and stay in a hotel for a few days,” Taj suggested. “Maybe I need to give you some space.”
“Oh, now you wanna run off to your other family?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I just don’t want you to be upset—”
“Okay, cool,” she said calmly, walking to her closet. “Excuse me for being upset. Excuse me for caring that for ten years I’ve lived a goddamn lie. I’m so sorry that’s pissed me off!” She yanked Taj’s shirts from the satin hangers. Knocked his shoes off the racks, snatched his pants from the circular rod, and threw everything into an open suitcase on the floor. “You’re right. I need some motherfuckin’ space! So I need you to take all yo’ shit!”
Vera hustled everything of Taj’s from the hangers and shelves to the floor. She stood in the midst of the garment windstorm and tossed his clothes with such force and speed that it felt like a tsunami had come. “I’ma give yo’ ass all the space you need!” She haphazardly grabbed the suitcase and dragged it down the hall toward the terrace.
“What are you doing, Vera?” Taj spat, as the veins in his neck seemed to connect with the veins in his biceps and rose under his skin like bolts of lightning. He followed the trail of clothes that fell from his suitcase down the hall. They flew past the maids and the nanny, who whispered and looked at them like they were crazy.
“Vera!”
“Don’t call me, motherfucker.” She dragged the suitcase. “Call Dion, call that bastard of yours. Call those motherfuckers! Is he a junior, Taj? Is he the junior who lived? Oh, you getting the fuck out of here!” Vera opened the terrace’s French doors, ran to the edge, and dumped everything that belonged to Taj over the railing. It floated like parachutes in the wind.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Taj screamed.
“No.” She raced back down the hall. “I’m sane! If
I were crazy I’d be throwing you over the fuckin’ ledge!”
She grabbed another handful of Taj’s belongings and tossed them below. She huffed as she dusted off her hands, ran past him, and tripped out of one of her heels. She kicked the other off, regained her balance, and raced back to their bedroom. She collected more of his things and tossed them into the sky.
“You betrayed me, motherfucker!” She struggled to maintain her breath, and beads of sweat rolled down the sides of her face and her neck.
“Vera—”
“Since you think we need space, then out-motherfuckin’-side will give you all the space you need! Sleep under the goddamn stars!” She tossed the last few pieces.
Taj took a step back and for a moment Vera wondered if she’d gone too far, but fuck it. He’d forced her hand and made her take it there. And true story, as crazy as she knew it was, even in the midst of all this, she wanted to make it all go away.
But she couldn’t.
She couldn’t.
“Get out,” she said, out of breath, her tears and sweat forming a mask over her face. “Get the fuck out!”
Taj didn’t respond and Vera was too bogged down by the ache taking up space in her belly to continue antagonizing him. She could feel the pain from her stomach rising to her throat.
Taj walked backward until he reached the living room and then he walked out the door. And as the elevator doors closed Vera fell to her knees and cried for what felt like forever.
Chaunci
Things were too perfect.
And Chaunci knew she was playing house a little too much, and too often. They had movie night, pizza night, Michael Jackson Wii night. And Kobi liked him. Actually she loved him.
And they made love every night without fail.
There was no way she could continue to function like this.
And it’s not that she was head over heels in love, but she could feel herself giving in. And she couldn’t. There was no way in hell she could lose that much control.
Emory stretched, he turned over, and kissed Chaunci. Her lips were stiff. “What’s wrong, baby?” He stroked her back.
Money Never Sleeps Page 18
