Millionaire Wives Club

by Tu-Shonda Whitaker

  “Hold it.” Kendu looked at security. “This is my home. I have this under control.”

  “You’re taking up for her again?!” Evan screamed while holding her face.

  “Just calm down, Evan,” Jaise said, grabbing her hand. “Let’s just try and work this out. This is really causing a scene.”

  “At this point, I don’t give a damn.”

  “Evan, believe me,” Jaise said, eyeing the onlookers, “this looks good for no one’s image. Please, let’s just talk about this. Remember that when fights break out donations fly right out the door.”

  “Fuck all that!” Chaunci said, pissed. “And I want my goddamn check back too. I ain’t donatin’ shit!”

  Yusef walked over and shook his head at Milan. “I can’t take you nowhere,” he said.

  “Let’s just go!” Chaunci snapped. “I’ve been thrown out of better places by worse people. I don’t have to take this shit.”

  Milan rolled her eyes in disgust as she turned to Kendu. “I hope that baby she had is worth it!” And she stormed out with Chaunci in tow.

  Once they were outside, Carl asked the ladies to tell the camera their feelings. “I can’t believe this shit!” Chaunci spat at Carl. “She got me fucked up! That’s how I’m feeling right now.”

  “Evan is just a phony asshole,” Milan added.

  “You should’ve whupped that bitch’s ass,” Chaunci said. “Like she owed you a man! Trick-ass video ho.”

  Jaise and Bridget walked swiftly over to Chaunci and Milan. “Ladies, can we talk about this?” Jaise said. “We need to straighten this out.”

  Chaunci looked her over. “This is what you do: Since you started the shit and now you’re so interested in peace, tell the valet to get me my ma’fuckin’ car. I’m ready to roll.” She quickly turned to the right and then the left. “Valet”—she snapped her fingers—“I need my car please.”

  “Ladies, this can be worked out. Let’s just calm down,” Jaise insisted.

  “Looka here,” Chaunci said, “I don’t know what you think this is or what you’re really looking for, but this is as real as it gets. I’m pissed, and since you really don’t know me, my suggestion to you is to get on.”

  “Chaunci, Milan,” Kendu called as he walked outside with half of the party and every TV camera in the place following him. “Chill, time out, wait. Hold it.”

  “Chaunci,” Idris said, walking over and grabbing her hand, “let me speak to you for a minute.”

  “Look,” Chaunci said, snatching her hand back, “if you ain’t the fuckin’ valet don’t say shit to me. Please. We’re gone. Out of this mother … fuck…ker!” She wiggled her head and neck like a bobble head doll.

  Yusef stormed over. “What in the motherfuck is you doin’, Milan?!”

  “You better get the hell out my face!” she warned him.

  “All that free liquor in there and you got to show yo’ ass? Da Truef can’t get his drink on for an hour at least?”

  “Milan, Chaunci,” Kendu said, “Yusef, listen, please let me hollah atchu for a second.”

  “Are you crazy?” Milan snapped. “Really, have you lost it? You see how crazy that heifer is and you out here in my face? Do you want me to have to kill her ass? I swear I’m tired of being your best friend. Fuck it. I’m done. She can have you.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Don’t tell me what I mean.”

  Kendu ignored Milan and turned to Yusef. “Look, man, I really didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  “I understand, but you know women.” Yusef attempted to sound sober. “So I tell you what”—he patted Kendu on the back—“if it makes you feel better I’ll take that Crown Royal and Johnnie Walker Red to go.”

  “I can’t stand your drunk ass,” Milan snapped.

  “Where the hell is the valet?” Chaunci stamped.

  “Wait a minute.” Idris attempted once again to calm Chaunci.

  “If I recall correctly you’re good at leaving,” Chaunci said as her car pulled up. “So stay the hell outta my way!” She hopped into her car, and Milan and Yusef raced down the highway behind her.

  “Spot-the-hell-on!” Bridget growled in glee. “I think I’m gonna piss in my pants. Nielsen ratings through the roof!”

  The Club

  Orange and white Japanese paper lanterns swung in the late-morning Manhattan breeze as the soft chiming sounds of Asian music filled the restaurant’s rooftop terrace.

  Although the producer preferred out-of-control shopping, cat fights, and high drama, there needed to be at least one episode where the women appeared to be working toward peace, even if afterward the claws came out.

  Jaise and Chaunci were sitting in their seats with their legs crossed, watching the clocks, and waiting for their costars to show up. They’d grown tired of smiling at the cameras, making trivial conversation about the weather and politics. And instead of continuing with the bullshit, they each preferred to leave before one of them forgot that this was being taped for TV and a can of whup ass was suddenly opened.

  After another half an hour went by, Jaise sighed. “I may as well take my sushi with me.”

  Chaunci snapped her fingers at the waitress and pointed to Jaise. “Can she get an empty bento box to go?”

  Jaise laughed. “You are such a bitch.”

  “Can you, ah, add a ‘Miss’ onto that title of bitch please? It’s a bit more elegant.”

  “I guess if it doesn’t involve high drama, somebody else’s man, or some new-money ghetto-ness you don’t have anything to talk about.”

  Chaunci twisted her neck. “I am not the one.”

  “What did you just say?” “I said,” Chaunci said, twisting her neck again, “I am not the one, so you better check yourself before you wreck yourself.” “Was all of that necessary?”

  “Are you serious? You came at me crazy and because I’m giving it back to you crazy there’s a problem?”

  “Look, I was just trying to make small talk with you, but that apparently is over your head.”

  “There you go again. What is your problem?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “Oh, you have one,” Chaunci insisted, “and if you keep talking slick I’ma make sure you recognize it.”

  Jaise arched her eyebrows and tapped the balls of her feet on the floor. She ran her hands over the gray leggings she wore, placed one hand into her hair and stared at Chaunci, who sat across from her in a pair of skinny-leg jeans, a tangerine Versace turtleneck, and gleaming black diamond earrings. “You know,” Jaise said, “I really don’t have anything against you. Actually, I’m a big fan of your magazine.”

  “So … what? You want a free subscription? Write a letter to the hardships department. Other than that I can’t help you.”

  “I’m trying to bring this to a truce, especially since it seems we’ll be doing brunch alone. Besides, it’s not you. It’s Milan I don’t trust.”

  “Please, and your girl Evan is what? Perfect?”

  “Practically.”

  “Yeah right.” Chaunci chuckled. “That’s a man-down situation.”

  “You don’t have a reason not to like Evan. Especially since your girl Milan is trying to steal her man.”

  “Well, if he’s there for the taking”—Chaunci rolled her eyes—“then that’s his dirty ass. He knows he’s married, and if he’s stepping out on his wife then Evan needs to deal with him, not Milan. ’Cause the next time she tries to start a fight I’ma ghetto slide her ass.”

  “Wow,” Jaise said as she started dipping her sushi in wasabi and soy sauce, “aren’t you a fuckin’ lady.”

  “Girl, look, I try to be fake and phony to keep up with you all,” she said, picking up her spider roll with her chopsticks, “but it’s tiring me out.”

  “Excuse you, I am who I am.”

  “And who is that?”

  “A very classy,” Jaise said, enunciating every syllable while putting special emphasis on her diction, “well-mannered,
and understanding woman.”

  “Beyatch puleeze,” Chaunci said, “you probably cuss more than I do.”

  Jaise laughed. “Well, what is it about Evan that you don’t like?”

  “What is it about Milan you don’t like?”

  “You never answer a question with a question unless you’re talking to a man … But umm, it’s not that I don’t like Milan, but I do think the whole Kendu thing is suspicious.”

  “They’re friends.”

  “Men and women can’t be friends. Didn’t you just write an article on that? I believe you did and you ended it with, ‘Watch your man.’”

  “You read that?” Chaunci smiled. “Yeah, I said that, but still in certain cases men and women can be friends.” “Yeah, you’re right, when one of them is gay.”

  “And if they’re not?”

  “Look, I feel like any chick hanging around my man is either fucking him, has fucked him, or is setting up the game so that some fuckin’ can take place.”

  “That sounds like insecurity,” Chaunci said. “Although I feel you on that. But Kendu and Milan have been friends since they were kids.”

  “They are not kids anymore. Now on to you. Why don’t you like Evan?”

  “Let me see how I can put this nicely. The trick is crazy.”

  “Isn’t that subjective? I could say that about Milan.”

  “Milan’s cool. You have to give her a chance. But Evan, that bitch … Humph, I’m sorry but … I just can’t pretend because I don’t ever see me liking her ass.”

  “But don’t you agree that some things have to be overlooked or we have to let some things go? I mean, the inability to do that is part of the reason why we’re sitting here alone.”

  Chaunci took a moment to think about what Jaise had said and responded, “Yeah, maybe.”

  “No, not maybe. It’s the truth. And by the way, that slick comment you made earlier about me being fake, don’t think I didn’t catch it. So for your information, I’m not fake. I just choose to keep my ghetto slide on reserve.”

  Chaunci laughed. “Oh really?”

  “Hell yeah,” Jaise said, “that’s exactly what I wanna do to my ex-husband’s new wife, grab that bitch by the roots of her fuckin’ hair and sling her ass.”

  Chaunci gave her a high five. “Ghetto slide her ass until she flies.”

  “You are crazy, girl. I think I might like you … even though you think I’m fake.”

  “Really, I don’t think you’re fake. I just think you try too hard. Relax and enjoy, honey.”

  “That’s the problem…,”Jaise said as she sipped her drink and her attention drifted toward the hostess, who’d just said, “Right this way, Mr. Mosley.”

  “I don’t believe this,” Jaise said barely above a whisper.

  “What?” Chaunci turned around.

  “Turn back around,” Jaise said in a hurry, “before he sees you.”

  “Who sees me? Who are you looking at?”

  “Trenton, my fiancé.” Even for Jaise the white lie about Trenton’s title in her life was hard to swallow, but still … he was her man. And yeah, they’d had an argument the other night and he hadn’t been to her house since then, but his leaving for a few days was nothing new. He would often become enraged and used it as an excuse to storm out. Nevertheless, usually after Jaise begged and pleaded and left him a thousand messages, he would give in, take her off punishment, they would have bangin’ sex, and all would be well with the world.

  Sitting at the table and thinking her life was falling apart, Jaise watched Trenton pull out some bitch’s chair and wondered why he’d never done anything remotely close to that for her.

  “That’s your man?” Before Jaise could answer Chaunci continued on, “And he’s with another chick? Oh hell nawl, you better take your ghetto slide off reserve and let’s go unhinge this negro.”

  “I can’t do that. Suppose it’s business.”

  “What the hell is he, an escort?”

  “No, he creates video games and he meets with people from all over the world.”

  “Well, we need to go find out what the matter is… and just in case”—Chaunci rummaged through her purse and pulled out a small pair of nunchucks, a can of Mace, and a box cutter—“choose one.”

  “Would you put that away? All that shit is illegal in this state. You gon’ get our asses arrested!”

  “So, and? If you let a motherfucker know you ain’t scared to go to jail he’ll stop fucking with you. Didn’t you read that article?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “Oh my Gawd, you are way too sadity. Is that your man or not?”

  “Yes.” Jaise was barely able to speak above the lump in her throat.

  “Then we need to pounce on dis pussyclot. Now let’s go.” She got up out of her chair.

  “No,” Jaise said, pulling Chaunci back into her chair by the arm. “Like I said, suppose it’s business?”

  “Then he can tell us that.”

  “I just need a minute to figure this out.”

  “What the hell are you figuring out?”

  “I like to think before I react.”

  “Well, hurry up,” Chaunci said, “’cause I need to know where to put my earrings.”

  Jaise felt as if humiliation had baptized her. Drama was much easier to deal with when she didn’t have a witness. Then she could sit back, observe, and figure things out on her own. But now with a camera crew salivating at her every move, and Chaunci doing her damnest to get the situation poppin’, she was caught in a crossfire of not knowing whether to react on the attack or act like a lady, smoke a cigarette, and preach about men coming a dime a dozen.

  “You’re thinking too slow,” Chaunci said, “and ya boy hasn’t looked over here once, and come on, there’s a camera crew standing here, and if it was just business, he would’ve noticed us, because he would’ve been paying attention to more than just ole girl. But he hasn’t, so I don’t know about you, but that says ‘cheating ass’ to me. Now, I don’t know what you gon’ do, but I’da split his wig to the white meat by now.”

  “That’s disgusting.”

  “No, you being cheated on and tolerating it is disgusting. Kicking his ass is rewarding.”

  “I’m trying not to jump to conclusions.”

  Chaunci paused. “Oh, I get it. My fault.” She started placing her weapons back into her bag. “You don’t want to overreact, because you want to leave room to fuck Romeo again. So please forgive me for not attending to my business.” She picked up her chopsticks and started eating her sushi again.

  “Look, I’m not going to jump all over my man because I see him sitting there with a woman. She could be a business associate, and if I find out she’s not then we’re finished. Over. And he will be alone.”

  “He won’t be alone, because he’ll have home girl to keep him company.” Chaunci stuffed her mouth. “I’m not mad at you though. You contradicting yourself like a motherfucker given what you said earlier, but hey, I’m sure when people see this on television somebody will relate. Hell, I’m the last one to judge. I know what it is to love a man who loves a few other people. And I have to admire you really.”

  “Admire me?”

  “Yeah,” Chaunci said with her mouth full, “you know how many unhappy hos woulda stomped over there, started a ruckus, and been back in the bed with that man by the end of the night? At least you’re playin’ your position. It’s retarded. Whack as hell. And I pretty much think yo’ ass is crazy, especially when you’re too beautiful and too rich for the nonsense, but hey, who am I to guess the side effects of his dick?”

  “You’re going a bit far. I just know that Trenton has a lot of business associates and I’m not into making a fool of myself.”

  “Alright, well, call him, then,” Chaunci said.

  “Call him?”

  “Yeah, tell him you were thinking about him and see what he says.”

  “And what is that going to accomplish?”

  “If it�
��s nothing he’ll tell you he’s at a business meeting and it’s no big deal, but if he doesn’t answer, if I were you, it would be a misunderstanding.”

  “Okay.” Jaise swallowed. “You’re right, I’m too classy for any other foolishness.” Jaise threw her right shoulder forward and batted her lashes. “I’ll call him.”

  As Chaunci sipped her drink, Jaise pulled out her cell phone and dialed Trenton’s number. They watched him pull his phone from his inner jacket pocket, look at the number, and then slide the phone back.

  Jaise called him again. This time he looked at the phone and sent her straight to voice mail. “I can’t believe him,” she said.

  “Text him and see what he says.”

  Jaise texted him: “I need to speak to you. Pick up.”

  They watched him pull the phone from his pocket, read the text, and type something back.

  Within a few seconds her phone beeped, letting her know she had a text message. I’M SLEEPING appeared on the screen.

  She quickly called him back and he’d turned his phone off.

  Jaise felt like a zombie, a frozen fool. She couldn’t believe it. Tears filled her eyes. “Look, I’m not one for scenes, so I’ma go home and pack the things he has at my house.”

  “Straight,” Chaunci said, “let’s go. And donate the shit, so he doesn’t have a reason to stop back by your house and get it.”

  Both women stood up and Chaunci placed a hundred-dollar bill on the table. “Brunch on me.”

  “Thanks,” Jaise said, watching Trenton step away from the table. “Let’s hurry. He just walked to the bathroom, so let’s just go now.” Jaise hated the feeling that had settled in the bottom of her stomach. It was the same feeling she’d had when she was married to Lawrence, a feeling of being nothing. She did her best to keep her eyes from sizing up the other woman as she and Chaunci walked by the table.

  “Wait,” Chaunci said, as they approached the exit, “I forgot something.” She walked back to the table where Trenton’s party was and stopped. “Don’t I know you?” Chaunci smiled at the woman. “You look so familiar.” She squinted her eyes.

  The woman looked at her with pleasant surprise. “I don’t believe so.”