A Rich Man's Baby (12 page)

M
y new job was to perfect my body. I went to the gym every morning. And when I couldn't make it to the gym, I worked out at home to my belly dancing workout DVD. One thing for sure is, you had to have a tight body. Every man wants a woman that other men notice. After that I would usually comb the sports page to find out what teams were going to be in town. I kept my television tuned to ESPN.
SportsCenter
was must-see TV.

My mom had been bothering me about returning to work. I told her I was out on leave, and she said I was going to lose my job. But I didn't really care. I worked all them hours and all that time for what? I wasn't happy. I didn't do anything, and I was miserable. Angelique, for example, had never done anything with her life. She didn't go to anybody's college, and she owned a condo and drove a CL550 Mercedes Benz. I was staying with my plan. It had been working so far. Angelique called me, all excited, screaming in the telephone, “Did you hear about what happened to that guy from Philly that played for the Cincinnati Bengals?”

“No, what about him?” I asked.

“He died in a car accident. He was from north Philly. His funeral is today. Get the paper.”

I grabbed the paper and looked in the obituaries.

“Did you know him?” I asked as I glanced at the newspaper.

“Yes, my sister knew his brother. We need to go. They are probably going to have something afterward. You going to go to the funeral with us? You know how many players are going to be there?”

“This is so disrespectful in so many different ways.”

“You think I care? Please, I need to find me a man, and he is going to be there. Hopefully wearing a sparkling Super Bowl ring,” she said.

“Well, tell me how you make out.”

She was tripping.

A funeral? No, I can't do that. That's just wrong.

 

After a little convincing I went to the funeral. We marched up in short black dresses. Mine was a cotton V-neck, and Angelique's was a silky satin material with long necklaces. I put on my sunglasses to hide the fact that I wasn't crying but scoping out the men in the building. We sat close to the back to get a full view of everyone walking in and out.

May he rest in peace, because he had a lot of nice-looking, big, muscular friends. It was wrong for us to be so ecstatic at someone's funeral. I know, I'm sorry. I was kicking Angelique every time I saw a player I liked. There was so much million-dollar eye candy in the building.

By the time “It's So Hard to Say Good-bye to Yesterday” came on, I had tissue in my hand like I was crying. This tall, dark-skinned man approached and tapped Angelique.

“How you know my cousin?” he asked.

“Around,” she said.

“You used to date him?”

“No, I just knew him.”

“Well, we all getting together at my aunt's house after the funeral. It's not about being sad, it is about rejoicing. You should come by.”

Angelique agreed and got the directions.

We went and broke bread with the family and both came up on two more prospects. I met some young guy fresh out of college named Reds. He had light skin and freckles. I had to pry Reds's real name out of him; I searched the Internet and I didn't find anything on him. I was like, “Huh? I thought he played too,” but things weren't adding up. The thing that made me really suspicious was that he answered his phone on the second ring every time I called. So I finally asked him what he went to school for and what he did. He said he was an assistant manager at Walgreens. I was so mad I wasted conversation on him when I could have met someone who actually played. But I guess God don't like ugly because the other guy I met was only on the practice squad for the Panthers. He said he used to play with the Bengals. I was so not trying to hear that used-to shit he was talking. He mentioned about going back to school for physical therapy. I kindly hung up on him and never answered his call again.

I
crawled into bed alone. I replaced the pink sheets with jade green and flipped the channel. I should have been out celebrating because I had passed the bar and was now an official attorney-at-law. But Terrance was out of town and said he was going to call me when he checked into his hotel.

“Terrance, you are going to have to get a new job. Because I don't want to be at home alone when we get married.”

“They have some positions opening up in New York; no traveling, just a really long commute.”

“Well, that will be better than this. I'm lonely without you.”

“I know, baby. Oh, I know what I wanted to tell you. My mom asked if my sisters could be some of your bridesmaids.”

“Call her back and say no. Your sisters don't even like me. Why would I let them be my bridesmaids?”

He knew better than to ask me something so ridiculous. Everything in their sheltered lives was done in Brooklyn. They never crossed the bridge out. When we came and took them to Manhattan for dinner once, you would have thought we asked them to meet us in Russia. I'd be damned if those classless bitches be in my wedding. Plus, everything was already set. We were going to have this big spectacular wedding. We reserved a mansion in New Jersey called the Lucien Manor. It was a beautiful, elegant ballroom that seated five hundred, but I was only having two hundred guests. There was also a gazebo outside and a waterfall. I was having a trumpet player announce us and our wedding party. I even hired a wedding planner, Bethany, so I didn't become too frazzled.

 

This serving the public was not for me. My job was rewarding, but I was really getting tired of all these long hours. I wanted to start looking around for another job at a private firm. I called Claudia to see if she knew anywhere that might be hiring and asked her how she liked her job at Hoffman & Black.

“Dionne, this job is so boring. All I do is research. I have stayed in the law library and on LexisNexis. Why, what have you been doing?” she asked.

“Let's see, I have cases already. Ten, to be exact. I've been threatened and yelled at by judges and clients. I rarely leave at five, and I am severely underpaid.”

“You have cases? Oh, I would love to be actually practicing.” Claudia had selective hearing. She only heard the one good thing I'd said.

“No, you wouldn't. These people don't appreciate anything. They are real disrespectful, and they don't want to cooperate. One of my juvenile parents tried to assault me,” I said.

“It doesn't even matter. I hate this job. You know what I've been doing for the last hour?”

“What?”

“I've been changing my message on my answering machine. I want to be practicing what I learned before I forget. Who do I contact there?” Claudia asked.

“I don't think you want to come here,” I said as I gave her the info. I wished I shared her enthusiasm about this job. I just loved for it to turn five o'clock and I turned off all these headaches until tomorrow.

 

I got out of court early. I wanted my mother to help me look at some wedding invitations and dresses, so I surprised her at work. She was the principal at an elementary school. Her secretary, Miss Turner, came around the counter and hugged me.

“Hi, Miss Turner.”

“Hi, baby. Your mother showed me the pictures from your graduation. I am so proud of you. You were always such a smart girl. Your mother is in a meeting; she should be finishing up soon. I'll knock on the door and tell her you are out here.”

I had a seat and looked around the office. It brought back a lot of memories. My mother was a teacher when Camille and I were in the third and the fourth grade. We couldn't get away with anything. Whenever a teacher had a disagreement with us, my mother would always take the side of the teacher. But I was happy she was hard on us. Look what we turned into.

My mother came up and gave me a hug, then asked why I was there to see her.

“I wanted to see you, Mommy. I missed you. Where's Daddy?” I turned a globe on her desk upside down.

“Really, why are you really here?”

“I need help picking out invitations. Terrance said get any kind I want.”

“So why don't you do that?”

“I don't know, Mom. I just need help with choosing the font and style. I want you to look at dresses with me. I have a bunch of books.”

“Okay, call your sister and we will make an evening of it. Because if we don't call her, she will have a fit.”

I
was on my way to Orlando by myself to attend the UBPA Celebrity Golf Tournament. I asked Tanisha to come, but she couldn't take the time off from work and she said she needed to spend time with her children. And Angelique, I'm done with her. We fell out because she took me to a Knicks game the other night and almost got us beat up NYC style. She was dating a married player and had us sitting in the wives' section. The women one by one kept saying that this was the wives' and the girlfriends' section. So I was like, okay. So then the woman said, “Are you a wife or girlfriend?” and wanted to fight because everyone's wife and girlfriend were already there. We got up and left and they followed us to the bathroom and surrounded us asking questions. Angelique was just dumb and drama filled, and I didn't need anyone to help me with my operation. Besides, you get further on your own anyway.

I found out about this tournament online. I knew it was going to be nice. The weather was warm, and I needed to get the hell away and meet somebody.

The golf course was very beautiful. There were a lot of former players and their families there, nobody was really hollering, so I left and went back to my hotel room. I was staying at the Wynn, the official hotel of the tournament. I knew the young guys would come out tonight. I took a nap and set out what I was going to wear on the other double bed.

I went to a nightclub called Blue Martini. I was bound to meet someone. The club was real big and had all these real expensive cars outside. It was a mixed crowd. I was confident walking through the party alone, but I did miss having someone to talk to about everything that was going on around me. I went to the bar and had a seat, and across the bar, I saw Mark, the Cleveland Cavalier I could never get in touch with. I wanted to go up to him and say something, but I didn't know what to say. He wasn't traditionally cute, but there was something about him that was so attractive. He and three other men were doing shots. I got the bartender's attention and sent Mark a drink. Within a minute, he walked over to me and said thank you.

“You're welcome, Mark,” I said, smiling.

“Where you know me from?”

“We met in D.C. before.”

He stared at me a little, and said, “Oh yeah, I remember you. What's your name again?”

“Adrienne. What you drinking on anyway?” I asked as I picked up his shot glass.

“I'm going back and forth with the Goose and the Patrón.”

“You think you are going to be able to walk straight?” I laughed flirtatiously.

“Yeah, I know what I'm doing.” He ordered another shot.

“I hope so. I'd hate to see you bent over in the toilet.”

“That wouldn't be a good look,” he laughed.

“Not at all, plus you wouldn't be any fun,” I said.

“So, Adrienne, why didn't you get with me?”

“Your voice mail was always filled.”

He started laughing and gave me another number to reach him at. I got him on the dance floor even though he said he wasn't a dancer. I swayed my hips side to side like a belly dancer. My butt jiggled at every shake to the side. Every man in that club was looking at me. I wanted to make sure Mark saw that. As we danced, he told me I was sexy and asked me where my friends were. I told him they missed their flights; then he said I had to spend the rest of the weekend with him and I did.

A
drienne was in Orlando, so she gave me her tickets to the Sixers game. There were only two tickets, and I was taking Jamil. I needed to spend some time with him and scope at the same time. Jamil was excited, and happy. Mama was on the prowl. There were some cute young guys sitting behind me, but I couldn't talk with Jamil there.

“Mom, I have to go the bathroom,” Jamil said.

I stood up and let him walk past.

“Excuse me, is that your son?” one of the cute guys asked. One was tall, the other kind of short.

“Why?” I asked.

“I don't even know why I asked you that. That's your little brother, isn't it? You not old enough to be his mom, are you?” the short guy asked.

“No,” I lied.

The tall guy came and sat in Jamil's seat and said, “Me and my friend are in town tonight. Where is a good place to go?”

“Let me see. You know, I really don't know. I was thinking anywhere in Olde City or Delaware Avenue. But it's Wednesday. I don't think anything is really good tonight.”

“Well, won't you be our tour guide?”

“No, sorry. I have to work tomorrow,” I said, declining.

“Really, what kind of work you do?”

“I work at a hospital. Where y'all from, asking all these questions?”

“We're both from Richmond. I live in Italy, and he's in Connecticut. We are down for the day. You sure you can't show us around? What's your name?” he asked.

“I'm Tanisha. No, sorry, I can't, but it was nice meeting you.”

“You too!” he said as Jamil came back to his seat. The tall, cute one looked like he wanted to say something else, but he didn't. I just hoped Jamil didn't yell “Mom” the rest of the night.

He was so damn gorgeous. I would have loved to meet up with him. I shouldn't have brought Jamil out with me. I could've had a date.

The game was almost over and the tall guy passed me a napkin as he left the game. I opened it. It was his phone number, and it said,
Nice meeting you. Call me, Kevin.