His Last Name

by Daaimah S. Poole

  “Sorry I kept you waiting,” Deuce said, coming out of an office. He said good night to the receptionist and pressed the down button for the elevator. He smelled good and looked nice in his suit, but I still couldn’t help but notice his bulging stomach.

  “No problem. So, you work for Regal or Dominant Records?”

  “Both. Dominant is my record label, and it is a division of Regal. I’ve been in the business for nineteen years. I started when I was eighteen. I’ve been working since you were still on the playground.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I did the math in my head. Thirty-seven? He is twelve years older than me. I didn’t know he was that old. He seems a lot younger, I thought.

  “You look nice. I like those shoes, too. You have any ten-inch heels?”

  “Ten-inch heels? Only strippers wear them.”

  “I know. It was a trick question. I was seeing if you were paying attention.”

  We went outside, and the driver was still there waiting for us. He drove us to a dimly lit restaurant with small tables draped in heavy white tablecloths. Huge crystal chandeliers hung above each table.

  “So I’m on a date with Ms. Shani Amore. I’m not going to lie, I’m a fan. I’ve seen you in a few things.”

  “Yeah? What are you a fan of?”

  “That beautiful smile and cute face.”

  “That’s it?”

  “I mean it’s a few other things. Your curves are nice, but I’m really into a person’s spirit.”

  “So you could see my spirit from me dancing in a video?”

  He paused and then said he could. I told him I didn’t believe him.

  Deuce was interesting. He was from the Bronx, raised by his mom and his grandfather, and he knew a lot about the music industry. He told me how he started his record label in his granddad’s garage. His mom was mad at him for dropping out of high school in his last year, but his grandfather saw his vision and gave him his pension check to put out and market his first artist’s album. He said when he got his first royalty check he paid his grandfather back, bought him a Cadillac, and sent him on vacation. “So how is your modeling? Do you like your management?”

  “Yeah, April keeps me booked, but it’s a little hard because I just don’t want to be just a video girl and it’s been hard trying to switch over.”

  “Things get easy when you have the right people in your life.”

  “They do?”

  “Yup.”

  “Maybe I’ll find out. Maybe I won’t,” I said as I toyed with the noodles on my fork.

  * * *

  After dinner, we drove to this warehouse at the pier and took the elevator to the rooftop. At first I thought we were going to an exclusive private club, but when we reached the top floor I saw a helicopter. He grabbed for my hand and began walking toward the helicopter.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m kidnapping you.” He nudged me in the direction of the helicopter.

  “I don’t want to get in that thing.” I walked away from him. First of all, what are the weight requirements? I thought.

  “I know what you are thinking. This helicopter can carry up to three adults, and it’s only two of us and the pilot.”

  “That’s not what I was thinking. I don’t like being up in the air. It’s not safe.”

  The pilot assured me that it was totally safe, and I reluctantly boarded. Deuce lifted me up inside and fastened my seat belt. He sat next to me.

  “If we crash, the seat belt won’t do anything,” he joked. I gave him a mean face. The helicopter lifted off the ground, and I wanted to scream “No!” but it was too late. I felt us flying, but I was too scared to look. I opened my eyes a little, and saw that we were flying over water. I saw tall building lights twinkling and the New York City skyline.

  “This is nice, right?” Deuce questioned me.

  “It’s okay.”

  “Okay, why are you acting like you are not impressed?”

  “I’m not. I’m scared.” I laughed and put my head into his shoulder and he pried my head up. Once I opened my eyes fully, I took in the beauty of the city lights and the water below.

  “Yes, it is nice, but in the future, let me know when I’m going to be flying so I can prepare myself.”

  “One thing you’ll learn about me is that I’m spontaneous. So I can’t promise you that I will.”

  “Then I can’t promise you we are going on any more dates.”

  “I doubt that. This is the first of many,” he said confidently.

  We returned back to the pier and Deuce made it clear what he wanted. “What is it going to take for you to stay with me tonight?”

  “I’m not staying with you. I have a hotel room. That’s all you think it would take, dinner and a helicopter ride, to get me to fuck you?”

  “I didn’t say that, but I don’t care what you say, you’re staying with me tonight. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you. I just want to go to sleep with a beautiful woman in my arms.

  I started laughing. “That was so corny.”

  “Corny, but true. I’ll send someone over to pick up your things up from the hotel.”

  I told him I would come over, but he better not touch me. I wanted to see how his place looked anyway. He lived in a beautiful penthouse with a Central Park view. I never saw a New York apartment so big. I really underestimated who I was talking to. I searched his net worth and he was worth over twenty million dollars.

  After a few drinks and more conversation, I felt comfortable enough to stay over. He held me all night and didn’t try anything. I felt protected in his arms, and to my surprise, his extra fat was like a warm pillow.

  * * *

  The next morning I opened my eyes and Deuce was still asleep. I got up to check my messages and read a text from the agent I’d been working with. She asked me to call her as soon as I could because she had found a house she thought I would like. I jumped out of the bed and walked into the bathroom to call her.

  By the time I came out of the bathroom Deuce was sitting up watching television. “Why are you in the bathroom using the phone? Did you have to check in with your man?” Deuce asked.

  “No, I had to talk to the real estate agent. I’m trying to get a place for me and my mom.”

  “Oh, okay. So what do you want for breakfast?”

  “I don’t want anything.”

  “Don’t be one of those girls that don’t eat.”

  “I’m not. I ate last night. It’s just that I have a lot on my mind. I have to go back home and go see this place.”

  “What’s wrong with the place you have now?”

  “It’s too small. I have to get a bigger place because my mom is coming home.”

  “Where was she?” he inquired.

  “Away.”

  “Oh, your mom did a bid. Damn, let me find out.”

  I jokingly hit him and said, “No, seriously, my mom’s been in jail since I was like six. She did twenty years for killing her boyfriend.”

  “Oh, my bad. I shouldn’t play like that.”

  “No, it’s cool. So I have to find her somewhere to live.”

  “I got Realtors everywhere. I can get you a house.”

  “No, thank you. I had someone pay for a condo for a few months and then when they stopped paying for it, I had to move into a smaller apartment.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to you. If I get you a house, your name will be on the lease and the rent would be paid for a year, but what will you do for me?”

  “What do you want?”

  “I need a very good friend. I live a hectic lifestyle. And I need someone to come home to.”

  “We could work something out. I guess.”

  “I bet we could. You’re good, though, with your pretty ass. You have me talking about getting you a house on the first date. Damn, what am I going to do when I hit that? Buy you a plane?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I probably will.”

  There was something about
Deuce I liked. He was confident, powerful, and had a lot of paper, but he was humble, too. And there wasn’t a woman’s presence anywhere in his house. I could already see myself taking over and having him do whatever I wanted him to do. He wasn’t perfect; I didn’t like his stomach or the way it shook when he laughed, but he had everything else I needed. He was workable and maybe I could put him on a diet.

  CHAPTER 21

  Monique

  With Kadir settled in and Carl back in Philly, I felt comfortable traveling. I booked first-class everything for CeCe and me. Our flight was departing from D.C., and I was waiting for her to get there.

  I brought two weeks’ worth of clothes for our five-day trip. I knew I was overdoing it, but I was excited. I wanted to make my trip memorable and look flawless doing it. Without looking, I answered my phone.

  “Hello.”

  “You getting real funny since you got money.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Monique, there you go acting like you don’t know nobody. It’s the woman who gave birth to you. Why do you keep changing your number?”

  “Because I have to. What do you need?” I was aggravated by her already, and I didn’t even know what she wanted yet.

  “So what’s this I hear, you’re taking people on vacations? Huh? And you bought Carl’s mom a car and not me. I’m that boy’s grandmother; if anyone should get a car, it should be me.”

  “What? You deserve a car for what reason? Are you the same grandmother that told me I wasn’t going to be shit because I had him? The same one who wouldn’t watch him and never came to any of his games? Mom Laura looked out for Kadir since he was a baby. She bought me and Carl our first car. You didn’t buy me anything.”

  “Don’t go spending up all my grandson’s money. It is not yours.”

  “Don’t count my money,” I shouted.

  “It’s your son’s money,” she said, correcting me.

  “It’s our money. My son is taking care of me. You know why? Because I took care of him. I was a mother that was there for her child. I can’t say the same for you. You disowned me and made my life hell because the church people couldn’t see Dottie’s pregnant teenage daughter.”

  “I gave you a place to live, I helped you with Kadir. I made you strong. You owe me, too! And she gets a Cadillac, and I don’t? People at my church are asking me why I don’t have a car.”

  “I don’t care what people are asking you. Don’t you ever call me questioning me about what I do for people who love me and my baby unconditionally. Unlike you. Me? Buy you a car? Ha! Keep waiting on it, because it will never happen. I don’t owe you shit. And don’t call this number again.” She had a lot of damn nerve. Everyone’s hands were out trying to get a piece of my son’s empire and they all could go to hell. After I hung up, I remembered I was in the middle of a busy airport and I noticed I’d attracted an audience. I looked up and saw CeCe standing over me shaking her head.

  “Call your mom back.”

  “Hell no. Do you know what she called and said right before the draft?”

  “What?”

  “She said don’t be upset when he doesn’t get picked. She didn’t have any confidence in Kadir or me. Now she got her hand out? Fuck outta here.”

  “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “That’s why I didn’t answer her call that night. Let me calm down. This lady got me cussing.”

  “Yeah, calm down before they say you too angry to travel. Forget her. Let’s get ready to have a great time. Look at you looking like a million dollars. I love the hair, bag, and the shoes.”

  “Thank you, girl.” I gave her a few poses. “I got my hair done yesterday, these shoes are Jimmy Choo, and this bag is a Celine. The sales girl said all the Housewives carry them. So you know I had to have one.”

  “Yes, girl it’s nice.”

  We boarded the plane and sank into our oversize seats. The stewardess came, welcomed us aboard, and asked if we wanted to see a drink menu. I told her we’d like two glasses of champagne. When she returned with the champagne. I raised my glass, turned to CeCe, and joked, “Bon voyage!”

  “Dummy, that’s French and we are going to England.” CeCe laughed.

  “Well, we are going somewhere. So safe journey, fun times, good shopping, and cheers to you.”

  “Cheers to you, Mo. I’ve always wanted to go to London since I was a little girl. And now I’m going. This is a big deal, Mo. Really.” Cee looked out the plane’s window to hide that she was holding back tears. “I will pay you back one day. I swear I will.”

  “Don’t start, you crybaby. You know you would do the same thing for me, and you do not have to pay me back anything. So stop saying it. We are going to have so much fun.”

  “Yes, we are. How do you think the people will be there? Oh, if I meet an English man like Idris Elba and he starts talking to me in that bloody sexy accent, I’m not going to be any good.”

  “Maybe I will meet someone, too, since your brother wants to stay in Philly and take a break.”

  “I didn’t know y’all broke up.”

  “Yep, he said I never paid him any attention.”

  “Well, did you?”

  “I don’t know. You are my sister and sometimes I feel like he is just my brother. We’ve been around each other so much just existing. You know we don’t act like a couple and we don’t have sex unless I come on to him. And the last time I tried to give him some, he pushed me off him.”

  “TMI. Yuck. I don’t want to picture Carl getting some.”

  “It’s the truth. He has all this and does nothing with it.” I gestured my hands toward my body.

  “Y’all just been together so long that you just take each other for granted. He should have been on this trip, not me. Maybe y’all could have rekindled everything.”

  “No, he shouldn’t have. So he could complain the whole time about spending money? No, thank you. He’s a human calculator. ‘Uhm, Monique you know you spent seven thousand on bags last week.’ And I’m like, yeah, I know.”

  “You did? Girl, how many bags did you buy?”

  “I think I have five. I went into Neiman Marcus and said give me one of each. But I still tore Marshall’s and Ross up, too. I may have money now, but I didn’t forget where I come from.”

  “Girl, you are so silly. Well, I hope it is just a break. This is the time y’all should be celebrating, not separating.”

  “I know. I said the same thing.”

  We arrived in London at the Heathrow International Airport. We went straight through customs and then to our hotel. We crashed as soon as we got to our room. We were both exhausted from the flight and traveling. It took almost two days for our bodies to adjust to the five-hour time difference.

  The days leading up to the concert we did plenty of sightseeing. We visited Buckingham Palace and shopped at Harrods, the most famous department store in the world.

  The night of the concert, the O2 Arena was filled with over-the-top fans of every nationality. We walked down to our seats in the Bey Hive section. The seats were so close to the stage that CeCe screamed, “I love you, Beyoncé,” and I swear she turned around and winked at her. Her performance was full of energy and worth every dollar.

  After the show, we went back to the hotel. We weren’t sure where to go to have any fun. We sat at the hotel bar and noticed a festive African wedding going on in the reception area. A few women were dressed in vibrant blue head wraps and men in black tuxedos with matching ties. Two men from the wedding party sat at the bar. One looked extremely familiar, but I didn’t know from where. The men said hello, and CeCe asked what kind of wedding they were a part of.

  “It’s Nigerian,” one of the men answered.

  “Oh, that’s nice. They are wearing beautiful costumes.”

  “They’re not costumes. They are traditional aso-ebi garments.”

  “Do y’all live here or in Nigeria?” CeCe asked.

  “We are from Nigeria. And let me guess you both are from
the States, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, our accents give us away?” Cee asked, giggling. “So whose wedding?” she asked, turning her attention to the extremely tall, good looking second gentleman.

  “Our brother just got married. His bride is from here.”

  “Are y’all married?” CeCe asked.

  “I have a girlfriend, but he is single. I live in Ireland. He lives in the States,” the shorter brother answered.

  “I didn’t know black people lived in Ireland.” I laughed.

  “Very funny.” The shorter brother laughed. “Of course there are, there are a bunch of us there. I stay there, but he lives and works in North Carolina.”

  “Really? She just moved to North Carolina! You look familiar. How tall are you?”

  “I’m six seven.”

  “Wow, do you play basketball?”

  “Yes, in Charlotte. How do you know?” the taller brother asked.

  “What a small world—her son was just drafted by the Hornets. His name is Kadir.”

  “Kadir Hall? The rookie. I would never have guessed a beautiful young woman could be the mother of such a big, grown man.” He extended his hand. “Ayodele Cisse.”

  “Adolee.”

  “No, A-yo-de-le. Everyone calls me Dele.”

  “Okay, Dele. What does that mean?” I asked.

  “Joy has come home.”

  “That is beautiful,” I told him.

  He thanked me.

  “Do you like it here?” CeCe inquired.