Millionaire Wives Club

by Tu-Shonda Whitaker

  “Considering the paperwork submitted on Mr. Lawson’s finances, the court orders child support in the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars a month. Joint custody to be awarded. Physical custody to remain with the mother, Ms. Morgan, and visitation awarded to Mr. Lawson, visits every other weekend and alternate holidays. Seeing that today is Wednesday, he should be properly introduced to his daughter. I can appoint a mediator if one is needed.”

  “I don’t want a mediator,” Chaunci whispered to Sarah. “What he just ordered is bad enough.”

  “Your Honor, we will not require a mediator, providing Mr. Lawson is in agreement. My client is willing to cooperate.”

  “Wonderful. Therefore the court orders that the first weekend visit take place this week on Friday. Is there a need for the court to schedule the holidays, counselors? Or can your clients come to that agreement?”

  “They will come to an agreement,” the counselors said.

  The judge banged his gavel. “Court dismissed.”

  For the first time since Chaunci made up her mind that she could handle being a single mother, she felt truly helpless.

  Kobi may have resembled Idris, but Kobi Sarai Morgan was Chaunci’s baby and had been since the day she was born and Chaunci placed her on her breasts and promised her the world. Idris had walked away a long time ago, and now suddenly this motherfucker who didn’t even know Kobi’s middle name, her favorite color, or her favorite food, hadn’t attended one parent-teacher conference and probably thought “PTA” was a fancy term for a three-point play—now had the audacity to demand a space in Kobi’s life. And to add insult to injury, the law was on his side.

  Chaunci cleared her throat and rose to her feet. She steadied herself by placing her hand on the corner of the cherrywood table. She fought back the tears and made up her mind that if she was going to cry it would be in the still of the night when no one was there but God. “Sarah,” she said to her lawyer and nodded her head good-bye. She walked over to Idris, but before she could speak he said, “I don’t want to hurt you, Chaunci, but I need to know my baby.”

  Chaunci started to level his ass, but then again she refused to give him the satisfaction, so instead she walked past him and out of the building.

  Carl, waiting outside, had not been allowed into the courtroom. Pointing the camera at Chaunci he said, “Tell us what happened.”

  The lump in Chaunci’s throat weighed heavily on her tongue. She relaxed her shoulders and smiled; too much of her business had already unfolded on camera. “I’ve never been opposed to Kobi having a father. And as long as Mr. Lawson holds to his side of the agreement I won’t have to kill him.” Chaunci batted her eyes and smiled. She knew she’d just spewed a terrorist threat, but fuck it.

  She glanced at Idris, who was walking down the stairs, and then she sauntered toward her black town car, where her driver was standing with the door open.

  “No more changing outfits, Kobi,” Chaunci said as she sat on the soft pink chaise in Kobi’s walk-in closet. “You look fine.”

  Kobi had taken the news about Idris a lot better than Chaunci had imagined. Chaunci had always thought that there would be a long discussion followed by a series of questions and perhaps some tears, but it didn’t happen that way. When Chaunci told Kobi who Idris was and that he would be coming over in a few hours, all Kobi said was, “Okay. What should I wear?”

  Kobi twirled around in her chocolate and mint green dress with chocolate leggings underneath and matching ballerina shoes. “I just want my daddy to say, ‘You look beautiful!’ And then I want him to say, ‘I love you this much!’” She held her hands out as wide as they could go.

  Chaunci arched her eyebrows. Her friends who were single mothers had always told her that no matter how much they struggled and sacrificed, all their children’s father had to do was spin around, and voilà, in their children’s eyes he would appear to be Daddy of the Year. And looking at Kobi, Chaunci saw the scenario unfolding before her eyes.

  Chaunci peeped at the clock. Idris was already an hour late. Careful not to let Kobi sense her worry, Chaunci said, “Your daddy already told me that he thought you were the prettiest girl in the world!” Chaunci rose from the chaise. “I’m going in the other room for a moment, okay?”

  Twenty minutes later and against her mother’s advice, Kobi had changed her clothes again. Then she went into the kitchen, where Chaunci was sitting at the dining room table.

  “Okay, Mommy, time to make my daddy a meal.”

  “A meal?” Chaunci looked surprised. “It’s kind of late to cook something now. Your father should be here any minute.”

  “No, it’s not, Mommy. Rice Krispies Treats and hot cocoa only takes a few minutes.”

  Considering that the time was steadily ticking by, Chaunci gave in, hoping that Kobi would be too distracted to notice how late it was getting.

  An hour after the Rice Krispies Treats and hot cocoa were done, Chaunci was clearly upset. She hated to look at Kobi’s glassy eyes because she knew it was only a matter of minutes before she, herself, broke down and cried. “I’m sorry,” Chaunci said to Kobi, not knowing what else to say. Her single-mother friends had also told her such a moment would come.

  “It’s okay, Mommy. He might still come.”

  “You know it’s late,” Chaunci said, her heart dying in her chest. If Idris had been standing next to her she would surely slap the shit out of him. “I think you should change into your pajamas.”

  “No, Mommy.” Kobi shook her head. “I want him to see how pretty I look.”

  “You wanna go out for some pizza?”

  “Pizza? When we made all of these Rice Krispies Treats?”

  “Okay” was all Chaunci could say. It was one thing for her to hurt, but it was a whole other thing for her baby to feel the pain.

  Kobi went into her bedroom, and Chaunci picked up the phone. She was determined to find this motherfucker tonight. As Idris’s cell phone started to ring, she heard a knock on the door, and someone calling her name. She hung up the phone and walked toward the door. She knew it was Idris as he pounded again.

  “The bell and the phone both work,” she said, opening the door.

  “Listen, I’m sorry. I did some shopping in Jersey”—he held up a few shopping bags—“telling myself I was doing a good thing. I didn’t know if I should bring something or what. And then on the way back there was tons of traffic and a really bad accident. I forgot my cell phone at home and I had no way of reaching you. So I know I’m late, but I’m here. I’m sorry, I am.”

  Chaunci looked up at him, and she hated that Kobi looked so much like him. “My baby cried for you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Look,” she said, closing the door behind him, “I don’t care if this is court ordered. If you are going to be in and out of her life, making promises you can’t fulfill, or, worse, just one day disappearing, which we both know you’re capable of, then leave now, please.”

  “Hear me.” He grabbed her hands. “Once again, I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere. Where is my daughter?”

  “In her room.” Chaunci led Idris to Kobi’s room, where the little girl was sitting up on her bed but had fallen asleep.

  “Kobi,” Idris called her name softly, and she opened her eyes.

  “My daddy,” she said, looking at her mother for confirmation. Chaunci nodded her head and Kobi started screaming, “Oh my God!” She looked at her mother. “Do you see my daddy?”

  “Yes.” Chaunci smiled as Idris picked Kobi up and hugged her tightly.

  “Daddy’s sorry,” Idris said. “I ran late. You forgive me?”

  “Yes, Daddy!” She hugged him around his neck. “Well,” Chaunci said, “I’ma go in the other room and read over some articles.”

  A few hours passed and it was nearing midnight. Kobi and Idris read books, watched movies, and she filled him in on everything in hers and her mother’s life, including answering his questions about why nobody liked Edmon. Eventually she
ended up falling asleep in his arms, and he picked her up and placed her in the bed.

  “Chaunci.” He tapped her leg as she lay asleep on the couch, with papers in her hand. “Wake up.”

  “I’m up.” She stretched. “You guys have a nice time?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled. “That’s Daddy’s girl.”

  Silence.

  “How did we end up here?” Idris asked.

  “End up where?”

  “Here. I never dreamed of this, but it feels so good that I don’t know how I didn’t.”

  “Okay, that’s interesting,” Chaunci said curtly.

  “You’re pissed as hell with me, aren’t you?”

  “Idris, don’t ask me the obvious. Friday is your next visit. Now good-bye.”

  Chaunci turned away and Idris grabbed her by the hand and turned her around. He kissed her on the cheek. “Good-night.”

  Jaise

  Jaise sat at her formal dining room table dressed in a low-cut flowing cranberry red Dior dress. Her bare feet were crossed at the ankles beneath the table, and she watched Bilal and Jabril eat the dinner of cube steak, gravy, and baked potato she’d prepared for them.

  She could see the camera’s reflection in Bilal’s eyes, and she wondered when would be the right time to ask him about making love or if she needed to ease into the conversation. “So what do you think of Sarah Palin giving interviews all over the news circuit?” she said to make small talk.

  “What?” Bilal gave her half a grin. “You wanna tell jokes this evening? Sarah Palin is wasted space, politically anyway.”

  “You think?” Jaise said, not really giving a damn. What she really wanted to ask him was “When will you be fucking me?”

  “Do I think? Listen, I can’t entertain nonsense from someone who campaigns in front of a turkey being slaughtered. I’d much rather talk about the chances Governor Patterson has to be reelected.”

  “Umm-hmmm, yeah,” Jaise said in the most insincere voice, “me too.”

  “If he loses I think Elton John should run,” he said, testing to see if she was listening. “What about you?”

  “Perfect.”

  “You didn’t hear a word I said.”

  “Well, hmph, I nominate Lil Wayne.” Jabril laughed. “Then everybody can smoke weed.”

  “You lost your damn mind?!” Jaise snapped at Jabril.

  “It was a joke.”

  “You’re not a comedian.”

  “Jabril,” Bilal said, getting his attention, as Jaise raked her fork across her plate. “Wassup with school? How are your subjects coming?”

  “Huh?” Jabril said, obviously caught off guard. “School?”

  “Yeah, that place you go when you leave here in the morning.”

  “Oh, you funny,” Jabril laughed, “yeah that.” He looked at the clock. “As a matter of fact, I’m on my way to go help a friend of mine out with some homework.”

  “And what friend is that?” Jaise asked.

  “Big tittie—I mean, um, Christina.”

  “Why are you always running over there to help some little girl? I have told you about these li’l girls,” She pointed her finger toward his face. “Don’t bring no damn babies or any diseases back in here because you out there doing a two-step with your li’l-bitty dick.”

  “Ma!” He pointed to the cameras. “You don’t know what I wanna be in life. Don’t be saying that on TV!”

  “I’m just keepin’ it real.”

  “Could you keep it real subtle?” Bilal gave her half a smile. “We don’t wanna embarrass him.”

  “Listen to the man with the gun, Ma,” Jabril said. “Calm down.”

  “Don’t test me, Jabril,” Jaise warned him.

  “Ai’ight.” He stood up. “I’m ’bout to bounce.”

  “Good-bye,” she said as he slid his coat on.

  “Good-bye?” Bilal said low enough for only Jaise to hear. “Are you going to tell him what time to come back? It’s a school night.”

  “Be back here in a few hours,” Jaise snapped at Jabril. “And I mean it.”

  “Yo, my man,” Jabril said to Bilal, “whatever you did to this chick, please make up so she can act right by the time I get back, ’cause she buggin’.”

  “You are buggin’,” Bilal told Jaise as he watched Jabril leave. “I don’t mean to get into your business with your son,” he said as Jabril closed the door.

  “Then don’t.”

  “Slow down.” He gave her a warning eye. “I do think you need to keep a tighter rein on him.”

  “Jabril is a good kid. He is just like every other teenager out there. For the most part you can’t do nothin’ with ’em. But I have seen worse, believe me.”

  “I didn’t mean for you to make excuses for him. I understand that he’s your son. But on the outside looking in, you’re a little loose with him.”

  “So what do you want me to do? Put a gun to his head, slap some handcuffs on him, Detective?”

  Bilal pushed his plate from in front of him and looked at Jaise. “What’s the problem?”

  “I don’t have a problem.”

  “Liar.” Bilal nodded his head. “When you start this?”

  “Look, I just find it strange that it’s been a month.” She hesitated.

  “A month and what?”

  “And you haven’t made love to me. Are you gay?”

  “Am I gay?” Bilal looked at Jaise as if she were crazy. “You lost your mind asking me something like that? It’s been a month, not a year. Your problem is you’ve been dealing with these lowlifes in the banks and the boardrooms and you don’t know how to act when a real man is sitting in front of you. Be loved for once, appreciated, and treated like a lady. You want me to be your man? Or we just hittin’ it and quittin’ it?”

  “I want you forever.”

  “Then let me treat you like a lady and not a ho. Believe me,” he said, looking her dead in the eyes, “when the time comes I am more than willing, able, and endowed to handle the situation the way it needs to be handled. But I’m thirty-eight years old and at this stage of the game there’s more to a woman for me than pussy.”

  Jaise felt like a fool, especially since he’d just put her in her place like no one else ever had. She wanted a man, and now that she had one she didn’t know how to act. “I guess you’re going to leave now?” she said.

  “Are you putting me out?”

  “No, I want you to stay. I just thought that since, you know, we just had it out that you would use that as an excuse to end this.”

  “We didn’t have it out, we had a discussion, and even if we did have it out, where am I going? I’ve been here every day for a month, and I see myself wanting to be with you for years to come. But you have to let me be your man without thinking I have something to hide. Now, come here.”

  Jaise walked over to him, her dress clinging to her every curve. Once she reached him, Bilal placed his hands on her hips. “Let what has happened to you before go. That’s the only way you’re going to make room for me to love you.”

  Bilal’s hands felt like sweet heat on her hips and Jaise felt a series of electric chills shoot up her spine. “You’re right, we should love each other first,” she admitted. “And, hell, who would believe you could really be in love after a month? Talk about truth being stranger than fiction.” She gave a nervous laugh.

  “Why don’t you ask me what I believe?” He pulled her onto his lap and started kissing her softly on the lips.

  Because I’m scared of what you might say … or might not say, Jaise thought as they began to kiss passionately. As she started unbuttoning Bilal’s shirt and kissing down his chest, Carl cleared his throat loudly.

  Immediately Jaise and Bilal looked up, realizing they’d forgotten about the camera being there. Before Jaise could say anything Bridget squinted her eyes and looked at Carl. “You keep it up, Carl, and you will be out on your ass. I’m so tired of you interrupting the drama when it’s getting started!”

  As th
e camera crew and Bridget packed up to leave, Bilal looked at his watch and decided it was time for him to go as well. Jaise hated that he had to leave; he hadn’t even walked out the door and already she missed him. It was true that they’d been going strong for a minute now, but the fear in her heart kept telling her that certainly the time would come when he wouldn’t come by in the morning to bring her a cup of light and sweet coffee, or bring her lunch. She was certain she’d talked him to death about estate sales, salvage yards, and auctions, and she could only imagine that he really wanted to go straight home after work instead of stopping by here to eat the nightly dinner she’d been preparing for him. Jaise was sure she could cook, but certainly Bilal hadn’t grown accustomed to her southern way of cooking.

  “Jaise,” Bridget said to her before they walked out the door, “see you in the morning.”

  “I know you will,” Jaise grumbled as she waved and watched Bilal walk out behind Bridget. “I’ll call you,” he said. He hugged her and kissed her lightly on the neck.

  After everyone had gone Jaise sat down on the couch, every nerve in her stomach told her that she’d messed up tonight with some of the comments she’d made, but the truth of the matter was that for the first time in her life she wanted to make love to Bilal for the sake of making love.

  She knew her feelings were foolish. She had to be crazy. Love took months, hell, sometimes years, and here she was trippin’ after four weeks.

  She looked at the clock; it was a quarter to ten. As she decided to go to bed her doorbell rang. “Jabril, you better stop losing your keys,” she said, opening the door only to find Bilal standing there. “Bilal…” she said. She couldn’t stand that she could never fight off blushing around him.

  “Why didn’t you ask me if I loved you?” Bilal asked Jaise.

  Jaise paused and then admitted, “I was scared of what you would say, or wouldn’t say.”

  “Ask me.”

  Jaise had the question playing in her mind but for whatever reason it wouldn’t come out of her mouth. This was what she was scared of—loving him and him loving her back, or him loving her now and changing his mind later. This was why she had never told him that being in his arms was a beautiful feeling.