When we finally land, it’s a little after three in the afternoon. We board off the plane and climb inside the waiting car.
“You can go home, Serge. I am just going to be visiting my family.”
He nods his head and sits back in the seat.
“Thank you for everything. For putting up with all the bullshit. Not just the bullshit that I did to myself these past few years but all the bullshit that came with my career, and to think, we’re about to do it again,” I laugh.
You’re going to be great, he signs. I smile. Fernàn was right. I do have deeply rooted abandonment issues that I am working through, but I am glad that Serge is the one person who has never left my side unless I asked him to.
We pull up to Pree’s house and I kiss Serge’s cheek before hopping out the car.
“Ahhh, it feels good to be home,” I say as I proceed up the steps. Instead of barging in like I normally would, I ring the bell to surprise her.
“Miss me,” I smile when she opens the door.
“Girl, get in here,” she embraces me. I hug my sister-best friend tight. I’ve missed her.
“You gained weight,” we say together before bursting in laughter.
“I’m sixteen weeks pregnant. What’s your excuse?” She laughs.
“I’m at peace,” I smile.
“So, daddy says you are releasing a new album,” she says as I follow her into the family room.
“Yup. This one is my testimony.”
“Uh, so when’s the first video shoot?”
“In about four weeks.”
“And…um…you gonna do some crunches before then?” She laughs, poking me in the stomach.
“Shut up. I know the weight went to my ass and stomach.”
“I mean, your ass looks great but you’re fluffy in the midsection,” she giggles.
“I think it’s cute,” I tell her poking myself in my small gut. She laughs.
“I’m sure I’ll burn it off with all the rehearsals I have lined up. Man, being in your 30’s sucks. I feel like I gain weight just by looking at food.”
“I know, right.”
“So, where’s Taj and Knuck?” I ask.
“They went to go take the dog for a walk.”
I miss Star and I’m sure Biggie will be happy to see his sister.
“Do dogs have feelings? I mean, do they miss other dogs and shit?” I ask Pree.
“How the fuck am I supposed to know? I’m sure they do though. When Black and Mook bring their dogs here, Star is always happy to see them.” Pree and I look at each other before busting out laughing at our pointless conversation.
The doorbell chimes.
“Aneesah, I have to go to the bathroom. Can you answer the door for me please? It should be the nanny that I’m interviewing.”
“A nanny, Pree?” I question.
“Yes, and don’t give me that judgmental look.”
“I’m just surprised that you would allow another woman in your house around your husband.”
“She’s from Ireland and her name is Eugenia. She sounds like somebody’s old Nana, so she can’t be that cute or threatening,” Pree says rushing to the hallway bathroom.
I open the front door and am staring at a beautiful melanin woman whose ebony skin is flawlessly glowing. She has long black hair that hangs in wavy locks down her back. Her jumbo boobs do not go with her slender shape however, I’m not sure if her breasts are real or fake but they certainly will cause someone to look. She reminds me of a darker version of the 90’s model Traci Bingham.
“Oh wow. Anì,” she smiles in her accent.
“Aneesah, and you are?” I ask as laughter builds up in my chest.
“Oh yes, I’m sorry. I’m Eugenia. I’m here to interview for the nanny position.”
“OH CAPREEEEE,” I sing her name with a tickle of laughter in my voice. Eugenia steps into the foyer.
“Um, you might as well wait right there,” I tell her knowing that Pree is going to dismiss the poor girl as soon as she lays eyes on her.
“What Aneesah?” Pree says walking up the hall. “Who’s this?” She quizzes.
“Oh, this is Eugenia, your new nanny,” I smile. Capree wrinkles her nose and makes a face.
“Position was filled. Thank you for coming,” Pree says escorting the girl to the door.
“Are you sure because the agency…”
“I said the position has been filled,” Pree snaps, pushing the girl out the door and slamming it. I am now bubbling in laughter holding my stomach.
“Oh, shut up.” Pree rolls her eyes and walks back into the family room.
“So, how are you feeling?” She asks pouring me a glass of wine.
“I’m great. Can’t complain. Looking forward to getting back out there. This time is different. This time I’m excited about this new mental space in my life. This album is so much sexier and mature. A true rollercoaster ride.”
“I know. I absolutely love it. I love “Insane Asylum”. That bitch is crazy,” Pree chuckles sipping her juice.
“Yeah, this album shows my crazy, my sane, my love, my hoe, and my heartache. This is the most vulnerable album that I’ve done.”
“I love “Angel-Skyy” and “21” too. I hear your hurt, pain, and happiness in it,” she says referring to the two songs I dedicated to my deceased husband and daughter.
“But my absolute favorite song is “Forever”,” she states.
“That’s not going on the album. I wrote that for that bitch-ass niggah,” I tell her shaking my head.
“But it’s such a great song. That is going to be the wedding song of the year.”
“I don’t care. I’m mad that your dad even gave you the file for it,” I huff.
“He wants me to convince you that the song belongs on the album.”
“No.”
“Speaking of, he and that bitch were here the other night. Knuck’s trying to convince me to take a trip with them. Fuck that. Nyce knows I hate his ass too and if it weren’t for my husband, I would be fuckin’ him up on sight every time I see him.”
“Go on the trip, Pree. It’s okay if you like her.”
“Man, who the fuck you think you talkin’ to? Fuck that and fuck them.”
“It wasn’t too long ago that we put Knuck in the same position,” I remind her about how we tried to get him and Saheed to be friends.
“This is not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it though?” I question.
“Fuck that. If I die you better not let some bitch be all up in my husband’s face. Anyway, I was mean and rude as hell to the heifer. It caused Knuck and I to argue that night and Nyce, his ass knows not to say shit to me. I lost all respect for him. He’s someone I don’t even recognize anymore. Even Knuck picked up on it. It’s like that bitch has him under some weird voodoo spell or some shit. His ass ain’t happy. I see it on his face. He looks stressed the fuck out. Fake happiness is the worst sadness AND she doesn’t match his flyy. He’s not even fun anymore. They don’t have that playful banter the way that y’all did and…”
“Pree,” I cut her off. “I don’t fuckin’ care. Can you please not talk to me about Nyce? Ever. I just want to put this shit behind me.”
“You sure? She friend requested me on Facebook,” Pree smiles, teasing me with her phone.
“Give me that.” I snatch the phone out of her hands and accept Tori’s friend request.
“Make sure you delete that bitch when you’re done.”
“Whatever,” I roll my eyes.
Victoria Winslet is the 36-year-old adoptive middle child to her white parents Charlies and Maisy Winslet. She’s originally from Somalia, I figure out from the heritage flags all over her page. She has two adoptive sisters, Katherine, who has blond hair and blue eyes and Elizabeth, who is Cambodian with beautiful jet-black hair and her skin is like the color of sand.
Tori grew up in Cambridge, England, has a PhD in psychology and is a professor at Rowan University. I scroll through her
page looking at family photos of herself with her sisters. She mentions that she is married but Nyce doesn’t believe in social media and would never set up accounts, so the government can spy on him…his words not mine. What can I say? You know that niggah’s street.
There are no photos of him on her page and she only refers to him as “hubby”, never mentioning his government name when she brags about the little dumb, cutesy stuff they do together. Nothing special.
“Whatever,” I say again tossing Pree her phone.
“Did you delete the bitch?” She asks, looking through her phone.
“You can like her, Pree. I don’t care. I don’t care about any of it,” I tell her, rolling my eyes.
“You know, I almost believe you,” she laughs.
“Anyway, since you’re all preggers, I guess you’re hanging up your combs and brushes. Is there anyone at the salon who you would recommend becoming my personal hair stylist? They have to be willing to travel and tour with me?”
“Yeah. I’m sure Dontay would love that and you know he knows how to hook a sistah’s hair up. I’ll call him,” she says picking up her phone. Dontay is probably one of the sexiest men I know. Cinnamon with long locks cascading down his back; 6’2 muscular build and the niggah can dress his ass off. So, what’s the problem on why I never tapped that? The niggah’s gay…bisexual…shit, I don’t know what he wants to be labeled as. All I know is that he has a taste for both men and women.
“What up Don-Don? Aneesah has to ask you something.”
“Hey, you sexy mothafucka,” I giggle into the phone. He chuckles.
“What up sweetheart?”
“Sooooo…how about becoming my personal hairstylist. You have to travel with me. All expenses will be paid for.
“How much?”
“$1500.00 a week. You have to be ready by the end of October. I have photo and video shoots lined up.”
“Shit. October is a bad month for me. I have to move out of my crib and find a place to live and shit like that.”
“How about you come live with me? I’m about to go hard which means that we will be on the road majority of the time. At most, you will probably spend a day here and there if you had your own spot anyway.”
“You mean you want me to live at your mansion rent free?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
“Shit. Count me the fuck in. See you in October roomie-boss.”
“Cool.”
“Aye. Can I ask you something?”
“What’s up?”
“When are me and you gonna have relations?” He chuckles.
“Relations?”
“Would you rather me say fuck?”
“Bye Dontay,” I hang up on him. “That niggah don’t got no filter,” I laugh.
“I know right but he’s cool as shit though. We all adore him at the shop. Him and all his crude, foul-ass remarks. Keeps us laughing for days,” Pree giggles.
“I’m going to miss you,” I tell her making a sad face.
“I know. Ironic as it sounds, I’m slightly jealous that I can’t be a part of this. As much as I complained, I loved every minute of being on the road with you.”
“Well, whenever you want your old job back, it’s yours,” I smile.
“Like Knuck is going for that,” she laughs.
I stay at Pree’s house spending time with her and my godson, Tajee. I missed him terribly and can’t believe how big he has gotten. Nobody asks or talks to me about Nyce which is great. I am just trying to focus on the positive to keep myself from going down that dark hole that I just climbed out of.
The next morning Pree and I drive up to New York for our monthly brunch at my sister Jada’s restaurant. Even though Pree is early in her pregnancy, her cocoa brown skin is flawless, basking in that pregnancy glow.
“This one better be a girl,” I smile.
“Knuck determines that,” she giggles. “But Tajee wants a little brother. I don’t blame him though. He’s the only boy since Melissa is having another girl,” she says talking about her brother Trey’s pregnant wife.
“Yeah, I spoke with her earlier. She told me she’s due in February. February is going to be a busy month for me. I hope I can make it to the hospital when she delivers.”
“All I know is, is that you better be at the hospital when I deliver.”
“You think I would miss you giving birth, hoe?” I giggle as we pull up to the restaurant.
“DIVAS,” I shout, greeting my girls when we walk inside.
“Look at you with all that weight. You’re looking good,” Morgan, my stylist, one of my best friends and Nyce’s baby sister greets me.
“I know, right. I’m liking it. I’m like an eight/ten…for now. It’s going to drop once I start preparing for this tour.”
“But dat ass doe,” Morgan says slapping me on it.
“A true bubble butt,” I laugh.
“It ain’t like you had a small ass to begin with,” she laughs.
“What can I say? I get it from my Mama,” I say while doing a little dance and giving Rita her props for her brick house of a body.
“You’re gaining weight like you can’t get cellulite or stretch marks?” Jada chimes in.
“Nope. I get my treatments every three to six months so boom,” I laugh.
“I know that’s right,” Pree, Morgan, and Jalena chime in, high-fiving me.
“It just sucks ‘cuz now I’m pregnant, I have to stop but best believe as soon as this baby is born I’ll be back at it,” Pree giggles.
“Why can’t y’all just age gracefully like most women?” Jada asks like she’s disgusted by us.
“I am but that don’t mean I want stretch marks or dimples in my booty. Besides, if I wasn’t in this business then I probably wouldn’t mind. I don’t know why these bitches do it though,” I smirk, throwing a French fry at Morgan.
“Because I ain’t gettin’ any younger. If it’s good enough for the likes of Beyoncè, J. Lo, and the rest of them, then it’s good enough for me too. Jada, you honestly don’t think those women in Hollywood don’t get treatments, do you?”
“I’m just saying, embrace every curve, dimple, and stretch-mark that God gave you,” she states.
“She’s twenty-five y’all. Let’s see how she feels at twenty-eight.”
“The same. I have little stretch marks on my thighs that I personally find sexy so,” she shrugs, sticking her tongue out.
“Anyway, I need a makeup artist,” I say turning my attention to Jalena, my ex-makeup artist turned bestie.
“Oh my gosh and another assistant?” Jada huffs. “Every time I call Larin, she’s busy with your shit.”
“I know, I know. I’m doing interviews next week,” I laugh.
“Sorry babes. I’m trying to get pregnant now. Moe isn’t letting me out of his sight,” Jalena chuckles referring to her husband and left tackle for the Miami Dolphins football team.
“I hate doing this without you guys. It will never be the same,” I whine getting sentimental.
“Hush Neesah before you make me cry,” Pree giggles. “So, Morgan, how’s Kay?” Pree asks referring to Morgan’s boyfriend.
“We’re good. Waiting for him to pop the damn question.”
“You think it’s coming?” Jalena asks.
“It better be. I’m 31. I need to start making these babies,” she laughs.
“I’m just waiting for the bridal shower and bachelorette party. It’s gonna be epic,” I chime in.
“I think Pree’s was the most fun I had,” Morgan says.
“Thanks a lot. Mine wasn’t all that bad,” Jalena pouts.
“We ain’t have no damn strippers,” we all say together laughing.
“All I know is, I want a big old-fashioned sleep over with everyone I love and to party like Rock Stars; shit face drunk,” I joke.
“You already party like a Rock Star,” Morgan smirks.
“Yeah but I haven’t done it with my girls in a minute. I just want all of us to
be together.”
“Here she go with that sentimental bullshit,” Pree chuckles rolling her eyes.
“Fuck you,” I give her the finger.
“All I know is, is that you better sing “Forever” as my first dance at my wedding. I absolutely love it,” Morgan squeals.
“How did you hear it?” I ask.
“Pree sent it to me.”
“Not gonna happen. It’s not even going on the album. I’m trashing the song all together. That song does not exist.”
“Yeah but Aneesah, that is the song that’s…”
“Anyway, how are the sketches coming along?” I ask cutting Morgan off and asking about my stage costumes.
“I’d pay you to sing it, bitch,” Morgan huffs under her breath.
“What?” I laugh.
“Nothing,” she mumbles. “You will be pleased. The kids are really coming through. I think they think they are designing for Rihanna or something,” she smiles. “Anyhow, Saheed’s jersey look that you are going for is the only thing we are semi struggling with since Beyoncè did that cute swim suit look with Michael Jordan’s jersey and I know you don’t want to imitate that.”
“You damn right I don’t. I am an original,” I smirk, looking down at my vibrating phone. I open the message that Chink sent me.
CHINK: What’s up? HRU?
ME: I’m good. Can’t complain
CHINK: U still meditatin & kickboxin
CHINK: U talked to the instructor I hooked u up wit
ME: Yeah. Enzo seems mad cool
CHINK: Meditating???????
ME: I b tryin. Shits hard. LOL
CHINK: Just continue practicing ur breathing & concentrate on clearing ur mind
CHINK: It will help keep ur little temper under control. LOL
ME: I dnt have a temper (mad face emoji)
ME: LOL
CHINK: So look. Tron?
ME: What
CHINK: I want u to work with Tron
ME: No. I’m busy on my own shit
CHINK: I think it would be good for the both of u tho
ME: Bye Chink
I return my attention to my girls as we eat, catch up and reminisce about old times. When it’s time to leave, I turn to Jada.
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