Rich Girl Problems

by Tu-Shonda L. Whitaker

Don’t look at his ass.

  Don’t do anything but listen to these two dumb motherfuckers standing before the judge fighting for custody and visitation rights to a dog.

  Dear God.

  “Listen, Mr. and Mrs. Frank,” the judge said. “I’m going to set a new date for the two of you to come back. You need to meet on your own and try to figure who the dog should go to.” The judge walked off the bench.

  “Next case,” the bailiff announced. “Bennett versus Bennett.”

  Vera and Taj stood up while their attorneys rushed in and made their way to their respective clients.

  “They refused to settle on anything,” Vera’s attorney, Matthew, whispered. “They said dropping the restraining order was enough. Taj refuses to settle for anything less than half.”

  “All rise!” the bailiff said as the judge walked onto the bench.

  “You may be seated,” the bailiff stated as the judge took his seat.

  “Have the parties reached any agreements?” the judge asked, looking toward Vera’s attorney.

  “No, Your Honor. Please review the settlement we have submitted to the court.”

  “Have you copied the respondent?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  The judge looked toward Taj and his attorney. “Have you reviewed it?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “We will not accept and will instead accept whatever decision Your Honor makes.”

  “Wait,” Vera said, standing. “Can I please say something?”

  “Have you consulted your counsel?”

  “No, she hasn’t,” Vera’s attorney said.

  “I don’t need to speak to you on this,” Vera said, looking back toward the judge.

  “Well, what would like to say, Mrs. Bennett?”

  “Your Honor, I have spent so much time being mad and pissed, and trying to seek revenge on my husband for hurting me, that I never stopped to see what I was doing to myself. To us. To him. My life has suddenly gone crazy. I have a brother whom I never knew I had. My mother is in a coma, and my husband, my best friend . . . I have completely pushed him away from me. I don’t want to go forward with the divorce at this time.”

  Tears covered her face as she sat down and closed her eyes, doing her best to ignore the buzzing of the people in the courtroom.

  The next few minutes felt like hell as Taj didn’t say a word, and instead his attorney asked for a brief recess.

  “I think one is needed,” the judge agreed.

  “Vera,” Matthew said, “Taj would like to speak with you. The bailiff said that you two can step into the break room and close the door.”

  Vera walked into the room and there was Taj leaning against the orange Formica countertop, dressed in a double-breasted tan suit and loose tie. “You know what, Vera?” Taj said. “It took everything in me not to ask the judge to grant the divorce anyway.”

  “What?”

  “You stood up there and said all that shit to the judge and you never once looked at me!”

  “To whom did you think I was apologizing?”

  “I don’t know! Damn sure not me. This isn’t a damn romance novel and you can’t confess your love to me all melodramatically and think I’ll just run over to you and scream, ‘I love you!’ Hell no. This is real life and that damn stunt you just pulled pissed me off! You don’t need to be telling the judge shit. You need to be speaking to me. Your husband. And if you can’t do that, then our business as a couple is done. Now you’ve got five minutes and then I’m out of here.”

  Vera bit her bottom lip. Her heart raced as her palms started to sweat. She wanted to take the easy way out by telling Taj, “Fuck it! We’re done.” But the thought alone awakened a pain in her belly so strong that she knew spewing the words would knock her off her feet.

  “You only have five minutes and you’ve already used up two of them.”

  “Taj, you know how I feel.”

  “No, I don’t. I know that you filed for divorce. I know that you tore up my penthouse, took back my car, cussed me out, cut me off, and refused to accept my son. A son I didn’t even know about until last year. And instead of you being by my side, you flipped into this cold, scared, and hard-acting witch that I didn’t even recognize. I know that I love you to death, but as of right now, I’m not so sure that I like you at all. That’s what I know.”

  “You know what? To hell with it.”

  “Cool. Then let’s go and get divorced.”

  “No.” Vera ran over and blocked the door.

  Just say it.

  She locked into his eyes. “You and Skyy are my life. My everything. You complete me. I miss you. I miss your smile. Your laugh. Your quirks. I miss you complaining about me leaving all the lights on and making the bill too high. Even though we had enough money to own the damn electric company. I miss you leaving the toilet seat up and watching sports every time I turned around. I miss your cologne. Your smile. Your scent on our sheets. I miss waking up to you in the morning and going to sleep with you at night. I miss having a man who knows me better that I know myself at times. I miss my best friend, and if you will have me as your wife”—Vera pulled her wedding and engagement rings from her skirt pocket and put them in Taj’s hands—“I promise to never take you for granted again. I promise to love you and put you first. I promise to be the best stepmother I can be to our son, Aidan. I promise to cook every night—”

  “Now you’re going too far.” Taj chuckled.

  “I promise to never, ever shut you out again. Just say you’ll stay my husband.”

  Taj looked down at Vera’s rings in his hands. He took her left hand and said, “Repeat after me. For better or worse.”

  “For better or worse.”

  “For richer or for poorer.”

  “For richer or for poorer.”

  “To honor and obey.”

  “Obey?” Vera curled her top lip. “What kind of obey are we talking about?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then say it.”

  “Honor and obey.”

  “In sickness and in health.”

  “In sickness and in health.”

  “Until death do us part.” He slid her rings back onto her finger. “I love you, Mrs. Bennett.”

  “I love you more,” Vera said, as they began to kiss passionately.

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAUNCI

  Listen. You’re going to have to calm down.

  I don’t believe he did that.

  I just can’t believe it.

  “The motherfucker sent me the ring . . . along with the video. . . .” Chaunci did her best to shake Emory’s voice.

  Dear God.

  Calm down.

  Don’t worry, he’ll be here and you’ll be able to serve his ass.

  Chaunci tapped her stilettos as she sat in the wing chair facing Grant’s desk. She’d been sitting at his desk since six a.m. doing her all to erase the thoughts that told her to slice his throat.

  It wasn’t that she regretted sleeping with him. The regret was him ruining her life with the shit. She’d already settled on marrying Emory. Fucking Grant was to be a one-time event. An affair that she was set to carry to her grave, not have played for her fiancé.

  You can’t kill him.

  “Now isn’t this something?” came from the doorway.

  Chaunci’s heart dropped. Xavier.

  I should’ve locked the damn door.

  Xavier stood before her dressed in a black suit, flicking his chin.

  “What are you doing here?!”

  He walked over and pointed into her face. “You know what the fuck I’m doing here! It’s been over a month and I want my money or I will own this company of yours!”

  “Actually, you can have the son of a bitch!” She grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled, ‘Co-owner of Preston Publishing formerly known as Morgan Enterprises.’ “All yours! I no longer want it! I’m finished.”

  “Do
n’t fuck with me, Chaunci! Trust me, you’re not finished, but you will be if you don’t get me my money by the end of the day!” He turned toward the door and roughly brushed past Grant, who was now standing there.

  “What was that lowlife doing here again?” Grant squinted.

  “He wants to be your new business partner,” Chaunci snapped as Grant walked over and kissed her on the forehead.

  “You look lovely as usual.” He smiled as he removed his cell phone from his pocket, dialed a number, and a few seconds later spoke into the phone, “Mr. Mayor, how are you this morning?” He paused. “Great. Great. Great. Of course I know you’re running for governor. You know my father and I will contribute greatly to your campaign. I’m calling because I want to remind you about that favor you owe me. Yeah. Xavier Dupree. I need you to do that for me today. A routine traffic stop will be perfect. Have a great day.” Grant hung up the phone and looked back over at Chaunci. He tilted his head to the side. “Why are you looking at me like that? Are you pissed off at me? You’re far too beautiful to be so mad. I just helped you out.”

  “No, you just ruined my life!”

  “Ruined your life? I just did you a favor. A big damn favor.”

  “I didn’t need you to do a damn thing for me!”

  “Sweetie, are we talking about the same thing?”

  “I’m not your damn sweetie and you know what the fuck I’m talking about!”

  A smile ran across Grant’s face. “My package.” He laughed. “I take it your janitor received it.”

  I should slap the shit out of him. ”You think this is funny?! You’re laughing! Are you crazy?! How could you do something like that?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

  “Look. I should’ve told you I was videoing you. Forgive me,” he said nonchalantly.

  “Not only did you video me without my permission, you took my damn ring and sent it back to my fiancé. How dare you do some shit like that?!”

  “I’m a selfish bastard and sharing is not my forte.” He shrugged. “What do you want me to do? Apologize to Emory? Well, I won’t. As you can see, I don’t give a damn about him.” He paused. “Actually, he got off easy, because I could’ve called his loan officer, especially since my family’s bank finances his business, and had his damn loan taken away. But I didn’t. I figured taking you was enough.”

  “What the hell?!” She pounded a fist on his desk. “I don’t belong to you.”

  “So you say.”

  Tears glimmered in Chaunci’s eyes. “This is a fuckin’ game to you! You ruined my life because you wanted to enter a pissing contest with Emory and measure dicks! I can’t believe you did this to me!”

  “Oh, please, knock off the victim shit. You’re much too smart for that. You were a willing participant. I didn’t have a gun to your head and I told you that you were free to leave at any moment. You made a choice, which was my bed. You wanted me and you wanted to be there. Now whatever the hell you’re trying to prove to me is not working. You don’t love Emory. He doesn’t even turn you on. And you know it. When you got your ass on that plane, it was because you wanted to be there. So don’t game me with the bullshit. Be real with me because I’ve always been that with you.”

  “Really?” came from the doorway. “So then what have you been with me?”

  Chaunci and Grant looked over at a tall, thin, white woman, with flawless peach-colored skin and brunette hair that hung over her shoulders.

  Chaunci could tell by the look in Grant’s emerald eyes that he’d been caught by surprise.

  The woman walked into the office and over to Chaunci. “I’m Marissa. Grant’s wife. And you are?”

  A smile spread across Chaunci’s face as her eyes landed on Grant.

  I could kill this bastard.

  She held out her hand and looked back to the woman. “I’m Chaunci. Grant’s mistress.”

  CHAPTER 48

  JOURNEE

  Journee wore a long, black, fitted dress with a low, scoop neck. On her head she wore a black hat with a veil that hung to her chin and every few minutes, one of her black satin-gloved hands would ease beneath her veil and dab dry tears.

  Xavier walked into the attorney’s office and sat next to her. He looked up at the attorney and said, “My daddy’s gone!!” He cried and his shoulders shook. “My daddy! He’s gone! Why didn’t he take me! My daddy was a good man. We used to talk all the time at dinner. Stay up late nights . . . and the stories he used to tell.” He shuddered. “I don’t know how I’ll go on. I just don’t know!”

  Journee squeezed his hand as hard as she could. “That. Is. Not. Needed,” she mumbled, as the lawyer looked at the two of them in amazement.

  “Umm, perhaps we should do this in a few days,” Chad, the attorney said. “I’m thinking this may be too soon for you two. If you need a little time to collect yourselves, that’ll be fine.”

  Xavier sat up straight. “Nawl, we don’t need any more time. I got a plane to catch.” He cleared his throat. “I meant I’ll be okay.”

  “Umm-hmm,” Journee mumbled, shaking her head. I promise you I can’t stand this goddamn idiot. A fierce dick and a snake for a tongue is all he has. But when he opens his mouth . . .

  Relax.

  You’ve got this.

  “Let’s just get down to business,” Xavier said. “My dearly departed daddy’s business, of course. God bless the dead.”

  Journee shot him a look that clearly said, “Shut the fuck up.”

  “If you insist,” Chad said. “I just want you to know that Zachary changed his will and did one by way of video.” He walked over to the flat screen television that hung on the wall and pushed in a DVD.

  “He did what?” Journee asked, her heart dropping out of her chest. She closed her eyes.

  You have to keep it together.

  Ten . . .

  Nine . . .

  Eight . . .

  That no good motherfucker!

  “Of course,” Journee said, opening her eyes. “Granddaddy told me about that.”

  The attorney pressed play and Zachary’s face filled the television screen. “If you are seeing this video, that has to mean I have already met my . . . demise.”

  “Oh, Daddeeeeee!” Xavier screamed, looking up toward the heavens. “Why did you have to take him, Lord?! You were wrong for that, José—”

  “It’s Jesus.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  Journee was completely disgusted.

  The DVD played. “My dearest Journee. I was so happy when I married you. To have a woman so young and so beautiful was amazing.”

  Journee smiled. Too bad I couldn’t stand your greasy old ass.

  The video continued, “My son. My dear, dear son. I always regretted missing so much of your life. I’m glad that in the end we were able to get close and be a family.”

  “Oh, Daddy!” Xavier cried.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Journee pounded her fist on the coffee table. “Just shut your ass up! I’m tired of you now!”

  Chad paused the DVD. “Is everything okay?”

  “I’m sorry,” Journee said. “I’m just upset right now.”

  Xavier looked Journee over. “Make that the last time you tell me to shut up.”

  Chad pressed play and Zachary continued to speak. “My beautiful wife and my son.”

  This motherfucker hasn’t run out of breath or fallen asleep mid-sentence yet. I’ve never heard him speak this clear.

  He continued, “Thank you for showing me and the video cameras that I had planted all over the house—”

  Cameras? Did he say cameras?

  “Yeah, I said cameras,” Zachary said as if he predicted Journee’s thoughts. “Thanks to my cameras, I was able to see that you two were two big-ass piles of horseshit.”

  “Horseshit?!” Journee and Xavier spat simultaneously.

  “And, Journee, I watched you ride his dick every night and call his name. In my damn house!”

  “What the hell is this?!�
�� Journee peered at the attorney.

  He didn’t answer as the video continued. “You dirty bitch you. And, Xavier, I never thought you were my damn son. ’Cause your mama was some damn slut monkey who swung from scrotum to scrotum.”

  “Slut monkey?” Xavier repeated in disbelief.

  “Yeah, I said it. A slut monkey!” The video continued, “Hell, as far as your mama knows, your damn daddy is Waldo! And nobody can find that motherfucker!”

  “Oh, hell no! He just cussed my mama!”

  “She stayed drunk half the damn time, so God only knows who your damn daddy is. If I meet him on my way to hell, I’ll be sure to tell him to haunt yo’ ass. You two stayed in my house and thought you were going to sucker me. Did you really think I spoke that goddamn slow? Hell no. You are two of the dumbest motherfuckers. Now, I’ve already given the house manager, Mary, instructions to burn every goddamn bed and all the sheets after I’m dead, ’cause ain’t no need for her to catch y’all nasty motherfuckin’ disease in her new house.”

  “Her house?” Journee looked at Chad. “What does he mean, her house?”

  The video went on, “Mary owns the island now and she already has y’all shit packed and waiting at the goddamn pier. And as far as my money, it’s all going to charity. Every bit of it! Now both of y’all can kiss my dead ass! Bitches.”

  Breathe . . .

  Breathe . . .

  There was nothing to say. There was nothing Journee could say. She just wanted out of Chad’s office. It felt hot and stifling. She couldn’t breathe. She could hear him talking to her, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying.

  Journee rose from the chair, tucked her purse under her arm, and walked out of the attorney’s office. She could hear Xavier on her heels as she walked outside and slid into the backseat of the black Lincoln town car.

  “Phillip,” Journee said to her driver as she slid her bumble bee Chanels over her eyes. “I just need you to drive. Just drive. I don’t care where you go. Just go.”

  She tilted her head back, resting it against the seat.

  “Well, while you’re trying to figure shit out,” Xavier said, “I’m getting ready to run over to Millionaires’ Row and knock Mary off.”

  “You getting ready to do what?”