His Last Name

by Daaimah S. Poole

  Dawn reached out to me a few times and I was courteous, but always unavailable to meet her. When I went to home games, I brought Octavia and Jabrilah and sat on the side of the away team. Jabril wanted us to be cool because Dawn’s husband was the captain of the team and he was trying to be on, but I didn’t budge. I was in a better spiritual space, and I didn’t want anything to ruin it.

  One night, I was going to volunteer with the outreach ministry, along with some of the sisters at our sister church. I was very friendly with a young mother named Talisha and her mother, Theresa.

  When I arrived to Rockclave Baptist Church, there were at least five hundred people in line. Some young, old, families, singles, white, black, and other.

  “We’re almost out of macaroni and cheese, and how much longer before the pan is warm, and we need more collard greens!” Talisha yelled out.

  “They’re almost ready and Sister Theresa said she will be here in another thirty-five minutes with the desserts. I told her to bake her pies last night,” First Lady Elise said.

  “We can tell them to come back for dessert,” Talisha responded.

  Noticing they needed assistance, I jumped right aboard the tight, hot food truck. I washed my hands, put on my apron, and began serving.

  I was put on string beans and was the last in line. I gave extra helpings and offered a prayer with a few of the people. I was so moved and so humbled by the experience. It was the best feeling to be helping other people.

  When we were finally done, Sister Theresa finally brought her pies. We cut them up and gave out the dessert. We fed every person—even seconds. With each platter, we gave them invitations to come to our church.

  “Praise God, we did it! Would you like something to eat?” Talisha asked.

  “No, I will eat when I go home. This was great,” I responded.

  “It was. Now, well, on to the next thing! The praise team needs new dresses and shoes for their performance. I’m asking the entire outreach ministry to donate. I’m about to ask everyone for fifty dollars. Do you think that is too much?”

  “How much do you need all together?”

  “Total it’s about five hundred dollars. Maybe if all the sisters here tonight give thirty or forty dollars, we will have enough.”

  “Five hundred? I have that. I can give it to you now.”

  “You can? Just like that? Wow! God bless you!”

  “Yes, no problem.”

  Talisha shouted, “Ladies! Sister Zakiya just donated the money to the praise dancers!” Everyone came over to me and hugged and thanked me. I felt uncomfortable, but I was happy that I could help.

  “I will see everyone in church!” First Lady Elise said and then came over and hugged me and thanked me for my help.

  I was exhausted by the time I got home, but I felt so fulfilled. Fellowship and giving back was what my life had been missing. Jabril was sitting on the sofa changing channels and eating pizza.

  With his mouth full of pizza, he started talking. “No dinner, no love, huh? I got to come home to no wife, no dinner, and a nanny playing with my daughter.”

  “Where is Jabrilah? I’m sorry. I got caught up.”

  “I put her to bed. Where have you been? I’ve been calling you.”

  How did I forget my man was on his way home?

  “I didn’t get any calls from you.”

  I reached into my bag and saw that I did have several missed calls.

  “Bril, I’m sorry, baby. I forgot you were going to be here.”

  “Zakiya, I’m only here for a few days. I’m standing at the airport looking crazy. I’m getting scared wondering where my wife is. Did she get in another accident? Is she safe?”

  “I really forgot. I was feeding the homeless with a few sisters from the church.”

  “Feed me. I’m hungry.”

  I approached my husband. I kissed him and hugged him.

  “No, don’t try to kiss me.” He turned his face away. I was tired, but I missed my man. He pushed me away. “And you smell like fried chicken. I’m hungry, and you are teasing me.”

  “I don’t know how I forgot about you.”

  “No, I’m only joking. You really like this church and these church people. I might have to go with you.”

  “You should. There’s a service tomorrow.”

  “I’ll go, but right now I need my wifey to smell like flowers—or something peachy. Just not like fried chicken. Meet me in the shower.”

  * * *

  I felt so proud to walk into church with my family and sit. The usher sat us in the third row. Pastor Richard spoke about timing and being patient about waiting for God to hear our calls. He told us to never stop calling because God always picks up. I looked over and saw that Jabril was into it. I grabbed his hand and prayed.

  After the service, Pastor Richard and First Lady Elise came over to us. Before I could introduce the pastor to Jabril, he shouted out his name.

  “Well, well! We have our very own celebrity! Honey, did you know this is the Charlotte Hornets’ newest addition, Jabril Smith?”

  “You know him?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I’m a huge Hornets fan. But I followed you in Oklahoma.”

  “Really?” Jabril asked, smiling appreciating that the reverend was a fan.

  “Yes, sir. I have to make it to a game.”

  “I can get you tickets.”

  Pastor Richard and Jabril began to talk like old friends and First Lady Elise pulled me to the side and said, “Thank you for helping us out last night and giving to the praise team. Also, I want you to come to my home for bible study.”

  “I would love to. What should I bring?”

  “You don’t have to bring a thing, just your bible.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  Church was a success. Jabril thanked me for bringing him and said he would be coming out as often as he could. He even said he talked with the pastors about starting a youth basketball clinic. Everything was coming along, and I felt blessed.

  CHAPTER 33

  Shanice

  It had been three weeks and I decided to call Deuce. I hadn’t been getting with him and I knew I needed to reach out. When he answered, I blurted out, “Hey, baby! What’s up?”

  “The question is, what’s up with you? Where have you been? You don’t text me back and never return my phone calls. And you’re asking what’s up. You’re funny as hell, Ms. Amore.”

  “Deuce, I’m sorry. I’ve been doing so much. I’ve been caught up with my daughter, my mom, and doing all these auditions and hostings . . .”

  “Shani, look. I bullshit for a living. You ain’t got to lie to me. I’m good. I’m not fighting a chick to be there so I can take care of her. You didn’t get back to me about the trip or our conversation, but it’s cool. I got to go.”

  “It’s not like that. Can I see you tonight?”

  “I don’t know about that. I’m in the studio with Santos. I’m going to be at it all night.”

  “Well, I can come to the studio.”

  “Yeah, all right.”

  Most of what I told Deuce was the truth. I really was busy with Trisha and Raven, but what I didn’t tell him was that I was being consumed by Jabril. We were texting a lot, and just knowing that I could reach out to him felt wonderful. It felt like old times, like we were picking up right where we left off. He mostly texted about his daughter and how he really wasn’t feeling his new team, and I sent him pictures of me and talked about my life. It was casual, but friendly.

  I took the two-hour car ride to New York. I had to show my baby Deuce that I still cared. On the ride up, I was supposed to be thinking about what I was going to say to him . . . but my thoughts were on Jabril and how I could get him away from his wife. I was desperate. Deuce was what I needed, and Jabril was what I wanted. How could I get Jabril back? How could I get him to see that I was the one? I thought about what I’d do if I “accidentally” ran into him again. Then maybe we could pick up where we left off.

&
nbsp; In the studio, Deuce was behind the board and Santos was in the booth. There were a couple of guys sitting around with red cups and smoking and a few girls that looked like they were trying to meet their next sponsor. One girl looked like she might have thought she was there for Deuce.

  I walked over to him and said, “Hey, baby.”

  Deuce looked up and gave me a stern look like I was in trouble. He nodded and replied, “What’s up?”

  The girl smirked and then began giggling with her friends.

  “What’s up? What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  “Yeah. What’s up? What’s going on? What do you want?”

  “What’s wrong with you? Why you talking to me like this? Can I talk to you outside in private?”

  “Give me a minute.” I walked into the hallway and waited for him. I didn’t appreciate him trying to play me in front of people.

  “You got five minutes.”

  “I got five minutes? What the hell is wrong with you? I just drove two hours to spend some time with you, and all you can say is ‘What’s up?’ And who are those bitches in the studio?”

  “You haven’t called or texted me in three weeks and you want to know why I’m mad and ask me about some bitches. They are not with me. Santos brought them. What does it matter? You don’t want me.”

  “I do want you.”

  I could tell he was serious. His eyes were almost watery. “No, you don’t. You’re playing with me. I had to go to Dubai by myself. Everybody was out there with their wives and fi-ancées, and I was in that beautiful place by myself.”

  “Deuce, I said I would let you know. I never said I was going to go definitely. And we are not together, so why are you putting that type of pressure on me?”

  “That’s the problem. I want more with you. When I think about my future, I think about you. I constantly find myself holding back. You’re in your twenties. I’m thirty-seven. I don’t want to play games no more. I slept with a bunch of chicks. I’m tired. I’m ready to settle down. I’m not thinking about no groupie girls. I want a wife, a house, and kids in the near future. So if that’s not what you want, then we are going to have to leave each other alone.”

  “Deuce . . . so you’re saying you don’t want to see me anymore?”

  “I do, but I want you to want what I want.”

  “Can we work on it first?”

  “No. I want to be working toward something or not to see you at all.”

  I thought about what he was saying. I wanted to be with Deuce, but I knew I couldn’t give him my all, because my heart still belonged to Jabril.

  CHAPTER 34

  Tiffany

  The last months had been so relaxing. Being back with my mother and stepfather was so much better than being with Damien. I felt at peace. No one was knocking on the door unexpectedly, and I didn’t have to slum it at a job or endure being broke.

  I awoke to the sun shining in my room. I felt alive and refreshed until I looked at my phone and saw dozens of texts from Damien. He’d been calling and texting daily since I left him. I was going to have to change my number and hire a divorce lawyer. In between Damien’s texts, I read messages from my sister-in-law, Liz, asking me to lunch. So I gave her a call.

  “Hey, Liz, I would love to go to lunch and see you and my nephew.”

  “Great, but I have to warn you. I’m so fat. I didn’t lose all this baby weight yet. How about right after the baby’s doctor appointment, around one o’clock? Let’s meet at Mattie’s Diner on Carson Street.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Liz came in balancing the baby’s car seat on her right arm, an overstuffed baby bag on her left arm, and my newborn nephew was in between the chaos. I stood up to assist, but she had already set everything down. My nephew was wrapped in a blue blanket, and she placed him on her lap and rocked him as she ordered two glasses of wine.

  I smiled at her. “How did you learn how to do all of this so fast?”

  “I don’t have any choice. Learning on the job.”

  “He is so adorable. You look great! You said you were fat.”

  “Compared to my weight before I had the baby, I am. I was one twenty-two, now I’m one forty. All I do is sit home with the baby. I’m tired of this already. I want to go back to work, but your brother doesn’t want his baby in day care. So, how’s everything? What are your plans?”

  “I don’t know yet, Liz. Damien didn’t tell me he was going broke. Right before I left, there were people knocking on the door demanding that we pay them. It was insanity. I wanted to stay. I really did. I even got a job. But I had a conversation with my mom that made so much sense. She said my life would never return to normal being married to him. I had to leave him.”

  “I totally get it. Your brother makes a great living. If he woke up one day and said we are broke, I would kill him. Money is the top reason for divorce.”

  “I know. I tried, Liz. It was hard. So hard. And now that I have had time to think, I know I’m not going back. I have to figure out something.”

  “You’re going to get yourself together. You know Charles’s friend Edward?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, we kind of explained everything to him, and he said he will handle your divorce. Now, does he have enough to pay you alimony?”

  “No, he has nothing, He lost everything.”

  “Wow, well, the good thing is that you don’t have any children together.”

  “Yes, and right before everything happened, we were thinking about it. Starting all over is so hard. I wanted kids and a great life.”

  “And you are going to get it. Just not with him.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Adrienne

  What had my life become? I was picking up Morgan’s Starbucks and dry cleaning, paying her bills, and making reservations, all while getting little to no respect. I was a “yes” woman. I had to be. I realized disagreeing with my boss only led to her trying to convince me why she was right. Being a personal assistant was so humbling, but I needed the money. I had to do what I had to do.

  After a month of working for Morgan, I knew she didn’t need a live-in assistant. She needed a stylist, a therapist, an alarm clock, a workout partner, and a best friend. She insisted that all her beverages be room temperature and that no one speak to her before she did her makeup. I couldn’t complain because she was paying me. Because I was on her payroll, I could put up with her quirky habits.

  I was able to send my lawyer his retainer fee. I FaceTimed a lot with Asia, and DeCarious was being less of an asshole. He offered to fly Asia to Philly one weekend, and I told him that I wouldn’t be in town. I hadn’t told him I moved to L.A. because it was none of his business.

  I was in the process of cleaning out and color organizing Morgan’s massive closet. Her toss pile was two times the size of her keep pile. Her closet was easily the size of a boutique. It was surrounded by walls and walls of shoes. It was completely unorganized with accessories, shoe boxes, and bags lying all over.

  “What about this?” I asked, raising a red Valentino dress with its price tag still attached.

  “You can throw that in the trash. No, I’ll keep it. No, it’s trash. What do you think? It’s trash, right? That dress is from two seasons ago. I could never wear it.”

  “Do you want to sell any of this stuff on ebay?”

  “Ebay? No, that’s for poor people. I don’t have to sell anything. Just give it away.”

  “Okay. If you say so.”

  Some parts of Morgan’s life I envied. She traveled the world and had everything anyone could ever dream of. Her ex-husband made her life more than comfortable, and it would be that way for the rest of her life. His movies had grossed more than five hundred million dollars, and her divorce entitled her to a percentage of it. However, she was more than a little strange and very difficult to work for. But as soon as I got that script in the right person’s hands, I knew it would be worth it.

  I stood up and grabbed another bag of cloth
es. I pulled out a pair of white shorts that had slits along the butt and back pocket.

  “What about these?” I snickered, holding them up.

  “Let me see. Wow, my shorts with the cut-outs. I haven’t worn these in years. I wonder if I can still fit into them . . .” She held the pants up to her waist and turned. “Even if they do fit, I don’t have anyone to wear them for. My pussy probably got cobwebs on it. But it’s still tight.”

  “I don’t want to hear that, Morgan,” I said, almost choking with laughter.

  “What did I say wrong, it is tight! My mother taught me how to pull my pussy in, since I was twelve. Squeeze that pussy in or let it go and get sloppy.”

  “You mean do kegels? Please stop, Morgan.” I was used to Morgan’s random sex talk, but this conversation was too much for me.

  “I didn’t know what they were called back then. I just know my mother said keep it tight, and you will always have a man.”

  “Your mom did not tell you that . . .”

  “She did. How do you think I got RJ? I fucked and sucked him so good, I couldn’t get him to leave me alone. And of course I’m beautiful and smart, but my cooch caught him and I reeled him with everything else. Ah, the good old days. My mother didn’t give me a lot of advice, but the advice she did give me worked. You know my mother was a whore, right?”

  I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

  “No, seriously. I was born in a whorehouse. My mother didn’t even know I was up in her. She went to the hospital because her stomach was hurting her. She was shocked as hell when I came out and I was taken straight out of her arms to a foster home. I was in foster care until I was six, and then she came and got me. She didn’t know who my dad was, but it was definitely one of the men she was tricking. I can be anything. Half white, Indian, or Mexican . . .”

  I was speechless.

  “You’re laughing, but you look like you got some swirl going on in you, too. Adrienne, what’s your background?”

  “I’m black. My mother is white and my dad is black. I know him, but he didn’t have any involvement in my life.”