Over. (This. Is. Not. Over. #2) (39 page)

             
Then there’s the Mail Box Issue. It just about drives me up the wall when Danielle allows Nicky to walk over to our building’s mail box by himself. Sure, it’s located inside of the building but still, he shouldn’t be walking across the lobby by himself.

             
“We’re right here Malcolm, we can see him.” Red says to me.

             
“That doesn’t matter, Red. Someone can easily walk by, snatch him up, run out the building, lock him up in some windowless van and hold him for ransom.”

             
“Really, Malcolm? All of that?”

             
It almost bothers me that she isn’t as incessantly neurotic about our children as I am. It’s almost insulting. I’ll give you another example; right now Red’s drinking coffee.

             
Coffee!

             
She’s six months pregnant and she’s drinking caffeine when anyone who reads WebMD knows that coffee to a fetus is like crack cocaine. Anyone who is a parent has read the American Pregnancy Associations recent report that caffeine causes birth defects, preterm labor, preterm delivery and disruptive sleep patterns in fetuses. As a matter of fact …

             
“Red, the coffee.” I nod to the cup that’s pressed to her lips.

             
“Oh Malcolm! Live a little.”

             
“Red, come on.” I slide the cup out of her hand and put it in front of Nicky … why did I do that?

             
“Ooh! About time.” Nicky says as he picks it up to take a sip.

             
“Give me that.” I say to him as I pick it up and slide it away from my entire family. There. Coffee problem solved.

             
This is who I’ve become: the family man that I’ve always wanted to be. I’m in DC, on Capitol Hill with Red, our boys, our friends, our family and the ginger inside of her. Life is good. Life: it’s filled with kids, it’s filled with coffee, it’s filled with wives, it’s filled with omelets, it’s filled with dinners, it’s filled with trips, it’s filled with pistachios, it’s filled with DC, it’s filled with Boston, it’s filled with money, it’s filled with the media, it’s filled with Fourth of Julys, it’s hectic, it’s busy … I love it.

             
“What’s this?” Nicky says as he points to some slimy orange shit on the table. I grab my napkin to wipe it up before somebody puts their mouth on it.

             
“I have no idea,” I say, “let me–” He touches it and wiggles his fingers around in it.

“Eww, I don’t know what this is.”

“Well it’s like I always say, if you don’t know what it is, you should definitely touch it.” I pick up my water glass, dunk my napkin in it and wipe his fingers off. “Red, pass me the hand sanitizer.”

             
“It’s sherbet, it’s fine.” She says as she leans into me. “You smell good.” She whispers in my ear. I ease around to her and run my eyes from her stomach up to her eyes.

             
“Come here.” I say to her as I bend down and brush my lips over hers. I take my tongue and trace her bottom lip with it and give her ‘the eye’.
Let’s have fun tonight
. She smiles and nods her head.
Harder than last night.

             
Life is better than good. Life. Is. Perfect.

             
And then my cell phone buzzes.

             
“Oh god. Rossi.” Red says with an eye roll. “He’s such a wimp! Whatever it is, tell him to handle it. We’re still at dinner.”

             
“Give me a second baby.” I say to her as I take my phone out of my pocket and look at the number. I have no idea who this is.

             
“Malcolm, I’m serious. I just want to chill tonight,”

             
“I got you, Red. Let me just see who this is.”

             
“Can I answer it?” Nicky asks.

             
“Here.” I give it to him. “Say, Blair and Associates, Nicholai speaking. What can I do for you this evening?”

             
“Hello.” He answers. “Oh hi auntie … hold on. It’s Auntie Jazz.” He says as he passes me the phone.

             
“Jasmine?” Red says. “Are you sure?” I give her ‘the eye’.
Doesn’t Jasmine still hate me or have things changed here recently?
Red shrugs.
No, as far as I know she still hates you.
Oh okay.

             
“I’ll talk.” Roman says.

             
“Beat it.” I tell him before I put the phone to my ear. “Jasmine, everything okay?”

             
“Malcolm! Oh god, please!” What the fuck?

             
“What’s wrong?” I say as I begin to ease Nicky and Roman off of my lap.

             
“Oh god! Marlon … Marlon …” She’s crying and hiccupping and screaming. What the hell?

             
“What’s going on?” Red says as she takes Roman from me and places him on her lap. I give her a shrug.  “Nicky, let your Pop get up.” She says to him.

             
“That bitch! That bitch! She … she …  mailed … a picture … to my house! A picture of … of … Jacob and me!” Oh. Shit.

             
“Okay, relax, where are you?”

             
“A reporter from The Globe just called me! Ahhh!” She’s screaming like she’s in a horror film.

             
“What did the reporter say?” I get up to walk outside of the restaurant.

             
“He’s got a picture! Oh god! God!”

             
“Alright relax.” I take the phone from my ear. “Jacob.” I say to him as I nod for him to follow me. He gives me a questioning look and then gets up.

             
“Everything alright?” Winnie asks as she grabs Red’s coffee cup and takes a sip out of it.

             
“It’s cool, sweetheart.” Jacob says with a smile as he gets up, massaging Winnie’s shoulder.

             
“Where are you Jasmine?” I ask her as I rush outside with Jacob by my side.

             
“Marlon asked me to leave!” She screams back. “He has the girls and he asked me to leave! He said ‘I can’t do this shit again Jasmine’. Again!”

             
“Where are you now?”

             
“At a hotel, oh god! Marlon says you already know about the picture, you all do! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t Danielle tell me? You all have been laughing behind my goddamn back for four years!”

             
“Calm down.” I turn to Jacob as we step outside. “Laura mailed
the picture
to a reporter from The Globe.” He looks at me, breathes heavy and then clenches his jaw. He’s not thinking about Jasmine, he’s thinking about Winnie. The last thing he wants is to dig up the past. The past: Jasmine, the picture, the divorce … Demetrius Westlake.

             
“Alright,” Jacob says as he starts looking around for valet. “We need to handle this shit tonight. Let’s go.”

             
“Please.” Jasmine begs me. “Please Malcolm, help me. Please … I’m begging you.”

             
“Relax, Jasmine.” I pat Jacob on the back.

“Malcolm, I will
die
if this gets out. Die!”

“It’s okay Jasmine, I’ll take care of it.
I’ll call you in an hour.”

“I’m calling Danielle!” She screams before hanging up.

And there you have it. Red’s my wife, she’s inside the restaurant, she’s pregnant with our daughter. My sons are right next to her, we’re with our friends, we’re with our family, everyone’s eating sushi, we’re on The Hill, tomorrow we’re heading to a concert and tonight I’ve gotten a call to fix some shit.

             
I’m living my dream.

“Alright Jacob,” I say as I turn to him, a smile on my face, adrenaline rushing through my blood.
“No need to worry,” he looks at me and grits his teeth. “You and I will figure this out. Don’t we always?”

Winnie

              When Jacob and I returned home from Hilton Head during that crazy Christmas with Laura, I searched for that picture. On June 14
th
, I broke into Jacob’s safe, with the help of Danielle and found it. He still had it.

I took it.

I copied it.

I returned it.

One week later, I filed for divorce and was on my way to Italy. A week after that, I met everyone in Hilton Head for the Fourth of July. That’s when I ran into Jasmine:

“Sorry about your divorce Winnie.” Jasmine said to me. It was late and we were all at Oyster Bar. I was in the bathroom, on the verge of tears. Jacob was there and I was deeply in love with a man who thought he loved another woman. My heart was broken. My pride was wounded. And the woman that my soon-to-be ex-husband loved was telling me that she was sorry about my divorce from him. “It’s gotta be hard on you.” She gave me a smile. She was happy that she had won. Now, neither one of us had Jacob. “A divorce … how terrible.” She shuddered. “I’d die if that happened to me.”

              “Promise?” I said to her. That caught her off guard. She knew that I knew about her and Jacob. She took a long look at me and then walked away. The next day she left the island.

             
I waited four years to unearth that picture. I was patient. I waited for Jasmine’s life to really take off. I waited for her to get any and everything she ever dreamed of. I waited for baby number one. I waited for baby number two. I waited for Marlon’s business to grow. I waited for him to become a household name.

             
Tonight, I look at Danielle and she’s smirking at me. I return it and then give her a wink.

Five years ago, Laura stood outside of Oyster Bar and called me a cocksucker for the entire world to hear. She mentioned that Jacob was forced to marry me. She implied that he really didn’t love or want me. She was willing to humiliate me by showing that picture to the entire nation. Months later, she hunted down Danielle to blackmail her. Jasmine is much too high and mighty with both Danielle and me. She taunted us. She disrespected us. Both Laura and Jasmine annoyed us. And in the words of Danielle, they have no idea what we do to people who annoy us.

              Yesterday, with the help of Danielle, I cropped that infamous picture. I took Jacob out of it. I mailed it from DC. The postal code will prove it. One copy to her condo. One copy to The Globe. Laura had to do it. I mean, who else?

             
All that’s left is Jasmine, naked, with a note attached to her hand.

             
White boys rock.

The End