Nobody's Girl (5 page)

“Where are you?”

“Whitney, is that you?” London whimpered.

“London, I ain't got time to play wit' you. My damn head hurt now!” Farrah shouted, causing her head to pound even more. “Whitney Houston is dead. May she rest in Chanel heaven.”

“I rebuke you in the name of Jesus,” London mumbled.

“Where the hell are you?” Farrah tried to find her in the dark. “Ouch!” she yelled, running into the couch.

London lifted her head and examined her surroundings.

“I think I'm on top of the dining room table. Ooooh . . . and judging by my breath I think I threw up on it too.” London slowly sat up.

“Time for a new table,” Farrah chuckled, turning on the light.

“
Noooooo
!” London waved her hand in the air emphatically. “Turn that light off!”

“I have to find my pants!” Farrah waved her off. “And you need to find your bra.”

London looked down and saw that her breasts were swinging free.

“Did we?” Farrah said wearily.

“You wish.” London rolled her eyes. “At some point, yo' dumb ass started talkin' bout you were freezing, although it's the middle of August, and turned on the heat.”

“Whew.” Farrah wiped invisible sweat from her forehead.

“Girl, bye.” London hopped down from the dining room table. “You wish you could get some of this.”

“Heffa, please, I am strictly dickly. Besides, if I were gay you wouldn't be my type.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” London snapped, insulted. “For your information, I get hit on all the time by lesbians.”

“Good for you, Ellen DeGeneres,” Farrah said sarcastically, while putting on her pants.

“How long are you gon' be here again?” London joked.

“Don't get stabbed.” Farrah laughed as her phone started to ring.

By the ringtone she knew it was Mills.

“I wish he would get the hint and stop calling me.” She rolled her eyes and huffed.

“You're gonna have to talk to him eventually.”

“It'll be a cold day in hell before I
ever,
” Farrah stressed, “speak to Corey Mills again.”

–Ledisi, “I Miss You Now
”

 

For days, Farrah held on to the notion that she was done with Mills, that what he'd done was unforgiveable. And although the pain she was experiencing was the type of pain that felt like dying a repeated death, she was lost without him. Plus, she couldn't continue to pretend like important decisions didn't have to be made. If she was going to cancel the wedding, she needed to do it soon. The only thing that was holding her back was her conflicting feelings for Mills.

Every vein in her body hated him for his blatant lies and disrespect. On the other hand, whenever she woke and he wasn't there, her heart ached. She yearned to hear the sound of his voice, to feel the soft touch of his hand. She couldn't deny it. He was her everything. She'd invested so much of herself into him and their relationship that being without Mills was unthinkable.

Farrah had to find a middle ground. She couldn't stay stagnant in her misery a day longer. She either had to love him or leave him. That morning she made the dreaded phone call to Mills, requesting they meet up and talk. She didn't want to have such a pivotal conversation at their apartment or her office in fear that she might snap and kill him, so Mills suggested they meet at Forest Park. With her new black Celine bag resting in the crook of her arm, Farrah's spiked, Alexander McQueen heels stomped the concrete trail toward him.

She had no idea as the sun shined down on her that she was meeting Mills in the same section of the park and on the exact bench Mills met Jade every month. Spotting her petite frame in the distance, Mills sat up straight. A slight smile crept onto the corners of his lips as Farrah's hips swayed from side to side. Mills knew Farrah like he knew the back of his hand. She was out to kill and he was her prey. Farrah looked like a chic goddess.

She wore her hair up in a top knot and donned a winged-tip eye and blood-red lipstick. A white Theory button-up with black anchors all over it was tucked inside a pair of denim booty shorts. A pair of vintage Chanel earrings and a gold men's Rolex watch completed her look. Farrah's swag was sickening. She was the perfect Bonnie to his Clyde. Now, more than ever, Mills knew that he had to do anything in his power to win her back.

“What's up?” Farrah sat down and crossed her legs without giving him eye contact.

“Oh, you extra cool today, huh?” Mills eyed her. “I don't get a
hi
or nothing?”

“Come on now, let's skip all the pleasantries. What are we gonna do?” She rolled her eyes.

“You tell me. You're the one who left,” Mills shot.

“You don't have to remind me. I know what I did.” Farrah rolled her neck. “I needed time to think.”

“Now that you're done thinkin',” Mills snapped, “What did you come up with?”

“That I can't stand you,” she responded sarcastically.

“Well, if it means anything to you—I still love you and no matter how much foul shit you say to me, that ain't gon' never change.”

Farrah swallowed hard. She hated when Mills played the sweet card, because it always wound up working.

“Look, I'm hurt,” she confessed.

“I know,” Mills replied, seriously.

“I'm mad and I'm pissed but . . . I don't know what's worse: Being with you or without you. I have to figure something out, 'cause I can't continue walkin' around feeling like shit,” Farrah confessed.

“And I'm sorry that I made you feel that way. I want you to know that I'm not giving Jade any more money until the paternity test results come back.”

Farrah tried to conceal her pain, but tears scorched her eyes. Just the sound of Jade's name made her sick. She wanted to blink the tears away, but she couldn't hold them back a second longer. With her head turned to the side, she let them pour out onto the surface of her face.

“I just can't believe you did this to me,” she cried. “Like, how could you sit there and hold that type of secret from me? I tell you everything. I would have never done no shit like that to you.”

“'Cause you're good and I'm a piece of shit.”

“I'm being serious right now,” Farrah shot.

“I am too,” Mills agreed. “Everything about you is pure and everything about me is tainted and I sometimes find myself wondering am I good enough for you.”

Caught up in his confession, Farrah sat quietly, staring out into space. She wondered if Mills knew how broken she really was, would he feel the same way about her? Sometimes she questioned whether it was him or her that needed saving more. The only thing Farrah knew for certain was that from the time she was a little girl she yearned to be loved by someone and to give that same kind of love in return.

She wanted love to be like it was in the movies, uncomplicated and magical. She was sick of questioning herself and the men in her life. She thought after Khalil she was done with the torture of nonstop drama. And no, Mills wasn't cussing her out or being emotionally abusive, but he still found a way to make her feel like she was two feet tall.

Dying from being so far away from her, but yet so close, Mills scooted closer and wrapped his arm around Farrah's shoulder. Farrah wanted to forbid him from touching her, but her mouth, nor her heart, had the willpower to object.

“I'm lost without you,” Mills whispered into her ear.

Here this nigga go, quoting Robin Thicke songs
, Farrah thought, rolling her eyes.

“Word?” Mills spoke, noticing her sour expression.

“The last few days without you have been miserable. I need you to come home. We can work this shit out.”

“How?” Farrah whipped her head to the side and gave him full eye contact.

Streaks of tears showed through her Covergirl Queen Collection foundation.

“I don't have a blueprint of how. I just know that we can.”

“We can't work nothing out if that baby is yours,” Farrah responded. “So I'm gon' ask you again and please, for both our sakes, don't lie.”

Mills gazed so deep into Farrah's eyes he swore he could see the depths of her soul. What laid there was a yearning to learn the truth, confusion, fear, sorrow, and undeniable pain. Mills hated that he'd done this to her. He'd reduced her to nothing with one lie. She'd been nothin' but an angel to him. She'd tried her damndest to shield him away from anything that could potentially crush his heart.

And although telling her his greatest fear—that Jade's baby might indeed be his—was the right thing to do, Mills once again found himself unwilling to admit the truth. There was no way he could do it, especially when the end result would be him losing her for good.

“I told you . . . that baby ain't mine,” he said with a stone look on his face.

“You sure?” Farrah asked as a tear strolled down her cheek.

“It's not mine.”

–
Webbie, “Lovin U is Wrong”

 

Softly, the melodic sound of Stacy Barthe's song “Touch” filled the room while Farrah sat quietly getting the finishing touches to her makeup done. Farrah felt every word of the song as if they were her own. The line
It'd probably be easier if you just were never around. Then I could concentrate on things I can't even think about now
really resonated with her as she prepared for her and Mills's wedding ceremony. In less than an hour she was about to become Mrs. Cory Mills and she honestly didn't know how she felt about it. Nervous butterflies fluttered in her lower belly. She had so much anxiety that she wanted to vomit.

But Farrah was determined to go through with their nuptials. Mills had sworn up and down, left and right, over and under that the baby wasn't his. And no, Farrah didn't believe him 100 percent. but she did believe in his love for her. She just prayed that would be enough to get her down the aisle. Besides, the only thing that got her to the ceremony site was the fact that two days prior, Mills had gone and taken the paternity test to further prove his innocence. Now they both sat idly by, awaiting the results.

In the meantime, Farrah felt like she was walking around with a shadow over her life. If she was being honest with herself, she knew deep down she should have postponed the wedding until after the results came in. As much as she wanted to believe Mills was telling her the truth, he had already proven himself a liar, so it was hard for her to give him the benefit of the doubt. Farrah was driving herself crazy, thinking of what would happen if it turned out the baby
was
Mills's. She couldn't see herself playing stepmother to him and Jade's child. That baby would be a constant reminder of Mills cheating on her and she couldn't live like that for the rest of her life.

Just knowing that there was a possibility that Jade had had Mills's baby made her feel more guilty of getting her own abortion. She thought she had moved past it, but lately all she could think of is how different things might have been if she had continued with the pregnancy. Maybe if she hadn't rushed her decision to get the abortion, he would have never slept with Jade and this whole nightmare would have never happened. Things got so messed up when she told Mills about her pregnancy, though. Sitting in her white dress, getting the final touches on her makeup done—instead of enjoying her day, all she kept thinking of was the night she showed up at club 2720 Cherokee and told Mills about the baby.

They hadn't talked in two weeks, but Farrah was sure things would work themselves out once he found out she was carrying his child. When she showed up to the club, she walked in just in time to see Jade grinding her ass all up on Mills. When Farrah confronted him and told him she was pregnant, he lashed out at her and had the audacity to say the baby might not be his. To make matters worse, Farrah's ex, Khalil was there too and when he heard she might be pregnant by Mills, one of his pot'nahs he lost it and tried to fight Mills. Hurt and confused, Farrah felt desperate to make the whole situation disappear, so she decided the abortion was the best thing to do. That way she could just move on and have no ties to this man who had broken her heart.

But of course, like always, Mills begged and pleaded his way back into her life and once again, she found herself laying in his arms. She didn't know what it was about Corey Mills that just turned her into putty in his hands. One look at him and it was like she was under his spell. Right now, though, in this moment, Farrah was really having doubts about going through with this wedding. This was the day she had been dreaming of all her life and instead of laughing and enjoying every second of it, she felt like with every minute that passed, her world was crumbling before her eyes. It was like she was looking at her life in slow motion and until those paternity results came in, everything she did was insignificant.

“Are you all right?” London stopped applying M.A.C Mineralize Finishing Powder to Farrah's face and asked.

“Why you ask me that?” Farrah eyed her quizzically.

“'Cause you look like you saw ghost. No matter how much bronzer I apply you still look as pale as Anne Hathaway,” London joked.

“I'm fine,” Farrah lied.

“Farrah,” London pursed her lips together. “Let's not play silly games today. What's wrong with you?”

“I'm just a lil' nervous, that's all.”

“You're more than nervous, sweetie. Look at you. You're shaking,” London pointed out.

Farrah gazed down at her hands and sure enough, she was shaking like a leaf.

“It's just pre-wedding jitters,” she said, shrugging, trying to sound convincing.

“Look . . .” London pulled up a chair and took her best friend by the hand.

“I'ma say this and then I'ma shut up. If you're having any doubts about this wedding, we can dip. You do not have to go through with this. Everyone will understand and if they don't, fuck 'em.”

“I'm good. I just need a few moments to collect myself,” Farrah said as she stood to take a good look at herself.

“Okay, fine,” London said, putting both hands in the air. “I'ma give you your space. I need to run and get some gum out of my car anyway. Lord knows I need to be chewing on something to keep from stopping the wedding when they ask if anybody has any objections.” London smirked as she walked out of the room.

Farrah's chest heaved up and down as she eyed her wedding gown from afar. It was a gorgeous, jaw-dropping, Marchesa mermaid-style dress with a sweetheart neckline and layers of tulle at the bottom. Always the one to be fashion forward, instead of wearing a veil, Farrah wore her hair slicked back into a chignon with a satin headband. Off to the side of the headband lay a beautiful silk flower pendant attached.

Over five million dollars' worth of Harry Winston diamonds were loaned to her for the special day. London had given her a soft pink and brown smoky eye with a pale pink cheek and lip. This was the way she'd envisioned herself looking on her wedding day. She'd always hoped and dreamed she'd get here, but Farrah never really thought it would come true. Now that the moment had arrived and was in reach, how could she possibly let it go? Yes, she and Mills were going through a trial, but maybe it was just a test to see if they could withstand the hard times.

Her thoughts were interrupted as London came back into the room.

“Okay, I'm gonna ask you one last time. Are you sure you wanna go through with this? Just say the word and we out dis bitch!” London said, keys and purse in hand.

“Girl, I'm sure,” Farrah replied as a she took a deep breath and got ready to walk toward the church doors.

This was her fairy-tale moment. Farrah's happily-ever-after was so tangible she could taste it. Yet . . . and still her legs were begging her to run, but instead of moving, they were firmly planted in place. London was right: She could just get up and walk away, but she'd come too far to turn back now. Farrah was determined to step out on faith. She just prayed that she could trust Mills and that she wasn't making the biggest mistake of her life.

The doors to the church sanctuary opened and Farrah took the first step toward the rest of her life.
This is it,
she thought, as Babyface's “Every Time I Close My Eyes” played through the church speakers. Farrah began her walk down the aisle and it was as if she was in a fairy-tale wonderland. Everything was exactly how she had always dreamed it would be. The entire church was adorned with gold and silver crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings. There were white calla lily clusters tied with a cream silk ribbon hanging on the edge of the pews and a beautiful, handwoven diamond-embroided runner laid from the foyer of the church leading up to the pulpit. Deep red rose petals were scattered atop of the runner and Farrah looked like a queen as she swiftly made her way toward her husband-to-be. If only for this moment, she felt like everything was perfect. She looked at Mills, standing at the front in an all-white custom-made Cavalli suit and their eyes locked. She could have sworn she saw a hint of fear or hesitation behind his eyes, but she quickly dismissed it as she placed her hand in his and they were instructed to turn and face the pastor.

 

 

The salty, intoxicating smell of the Mediterranean Sea sent Farrah's senses into shock, causing her eyes to pop open and her to jump up in a rush. There she was, in a king-sized bed that wasn't her own and in a bedroom that wasn't her own. Farrah had no idea where she was or how she'd gotten there. All she knew was that mountains and crystal-clear blue water were right outside her bedroom window and that she was on a yacht. As she raised her left hand to get the crust out of her eye, she was blinded by the ice on her ring finger.

Two bands filled with diamonds sat under and on top of her five-carat princess-cut engagement ring. Instantly, memories of her wedding day flooded her mind. Farrah had felt so unsure of her decision after the church ceremony that she immediately popped a Xanax when she got to the reception. After the ceremony, she immediately felt like she should've waited and called the whole thing off. But she'd already said “I do” and there was no turning back, so instead of dealing with her feelings, Farrah drank.

She drank so much that half the night was a blur. She didn't remember her and Mills's first dance or cutting her six-tier cake made by Sylvia Weinstock. She did, however, remember during the plane ride to their honeymoon destination in Sardinia, Italy, popping two more pills and then dozing off to sleep. Farrah had to get a hold of herself and quick.

Drinking her problems away was not going to solve a thing, so she made a mental note to lay off alcohol for a while. Hungry as hell, Farrah got out of bed in search of food and Mills. She didn't know where she was going, but the tantalizing smell of food led her in the right direction. As she walked throughout the yacht, Farrah took in its beauty. The yacht they'd rented—appropriately called
Dream
—had seven staterooms, an elevator that traveled via all four decks, a Jacuzzi, lounge area with a full bar, gym, sky lounge, and a crew of twelve.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Mills,” a short Italian woman spoke. “Your husband has been worried about you.”

“My husband,” Farrah repeated.

I have a husband,
she thought, letting the fact sink in.
Mills is my husband.

“Yes, Mr. Mills. He's on the second-floor deck.” The woman pointed.

“Okay, thank you.” Farrah smiled and headed in that direction.

Once she reached the second floor of the yacht, she spotted Mills sipping on a mimosa and reading an article in
Details
magazine. Sensing someone watching him, Mills looked up.

“There you are, sleepyhead.” He got up from the table and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. “For a minute I thought I was gon' have to call a doctor.”

“Why?” Farrah asked as he pulled out her chair.

“'Cause you've been knocked out since we boarded the plane. You were poppin' Xanax like they were Skittles.”

“Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I just kept on feeling like I was having a panic attack,” Farrah explained.

“You cool now?” Mills examined her face, worried.

“Yeah, being next to the sea is very comforting. I feel like a new woman already.” She smiled, slightly.

The aqua blue sea was breathtaking. She'd never seen anything like it, except in pictures.

“I'm glad you're feeling better. Now we can start enjoying our honeymoon.” Mills ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her neck.

Farrah wanted more than anything to share in his excitement, but for some reason a dark cloud rested over her head. She never imagined on her honeymoon she'd feel so disconnected from the man she'd just swore to love forever.

“You hungry?” Mills asked, pouring her a glass of juice.

“Umm.” Farrah stared at the array of food and became queasy. “No, I think I lost my appetite.”

“You trippin'.” Mills stacked his plate with eggs Benedict, bacon, sausage, and fruit.

“I think I'ma go take a shower and get dressed.” Farrah excused herself from the table.

“You're sure you don't want none?” he asked again.

“Yeah, I'm sure.”

“A'ight, well hurry back!” Mills yelled after her.

The rest of the day Farrah floated along, doing what to her were meaningless activities, like sightseeing and snorkeling to appease Mills. If it were up to her, she would've gladly slept through their entire honeymoon. She'd tried boosting her excitement level, but the tortuous possibility that she'd married Mills, knowing fully well he'd cheated and possibly fathered a child, consumed her every thought.

Mills tried to pretend that he didn't notice her distant behavior, but by nightfall he couldn't fake it anymore. Farrah was miserable and it showed all over her face. She didn't deserve to feel like shit—he did. He'd willingly married Farrah under false pretenses in order to prevent his own suffering. All throughout the morning of the wedding he paced back and forth, thinking about whether or not to come totally clean to Farrah. Not only had he not confessed that there actually was a high chance that Jaysin might be his, but he'd also lied about taking the paternity test. Deep down, he knew what the results would be and he couldn't risk losing Farrah once she found out. He hated having to lie to her, but he knew if he told her everything before the wedding she would have called the whole thing off and probably never forgave him.