Rich Girl Problems (17 page)

I
had to admit this A-list crowd was having a ball. They were posing for pictures and showing my cameras lots of love. There were even a few stars who asked me how they could be cast next season.

“Bridget,” Milan slurred. “It's my husband's birthday and I'm having a ball!” She did a quick spin and just as she started to moonwalk, she moonwalked right into Emory.

Where the hell is Chaunci? I'm going to have to fire this trick. She is really pushing it!

“Hey, hey, hey, Emorrrrrreeee,” Milan slurred. “I didn't even know you were behind me. Where's my girl?”

“What do you mean?” Emory arched a brow. “She's here.”

“No, she's not.” Milan did a spin. “I've been waiting for her to walk in, but she hasn't gotten here yet. She'll be here soon. Go have a drink. It's open bar.”

Emory stared into space and looked back at Milan. “Are you sure she's not here?”

“I don't think so, but hell, maybe she is.”

“When was the last time you spoke to her?”

“Emory”—Milan held up an index finger—“give me a minute.” She walked away from him and followed behind Kendu, who'd just stepped into the corner of the room with a familiar blonde.

“Let's go, Carl!” I shouted as Milan stormed over to Kendu, who looked to be enthralled in a conversation with the same woman Milan had attacked on the street.

“This bitch?!” Milan screamed. “I thought you didn't know her, Kendu!”

“Milan,” Kendu said. “Listen, she just came up to me and asked if she could speak to me about my charity and I said yes.”

“Speak to you about a charity!” the woman cried. “Kendu, why are you lying?! Please just tell the truth! I'm tired of being hidden and I'm tired of being alone!”

“I'll beat your ass!” Milan lunged, and immediately security stepped in.

“Goddamn you!” I screamed. “I just can't deal with you all traveling with me! You are completely ruining my fuckin' vibe! I haven't had a knock-down-drag-out all season!”

“Let me go!” Milan yelled, clawing over one of the security guard's shoulders. “How could you do this to me, Kendu?! This damn party wasn't a surprise to you! You invited this bitch here! How could you!”

“Milan, you need to calm down! I don't know her!” He gawked at the blonde. “Tell the goddamn truth before I choke the shit out of you! Tell her.”

Tears streamed down the woman's face and her voice cracked. “Kendu, I can't lie anymore. I can't. I'm tired of you denying me and I'm tired of you denying our son!”

Kendu screamed, “I will—”

One of the security officers stepped in front of Kendu as the blonde ran off and Milan took off behind her. Some of the guests continued to party, but most were looking to see what was going on. By the time Milan made it onto the sidewalk, the woman had disappeared. “Where the hell did she go!?” Milan screamed, as tears raced down her face. “I don't believe it. This motherfucker is a liar, a cheat! He ain't shit! As much as I stood by his side!”

“Milan,” I called. “Can you please look into the camera and repeat everything you just said?”

She didn't respond. However, Jaise looked directly into the camera and said, “Mph, once a cheat, always a damn cheat.”

“Really, Jaise.” Bilal frowned.

“I'm just making a statement, Bilal. After all, when he was married to Evan he did the same exact bullshit!”

“B
ilal, I thought you had the night off.”

“I do.”

“So, why is one of your officers standing on our stoop?” Jaise said as their driver held the door open for them and they stepped onto the sidewalk.

Bilal looked up at the officer and said, “That's Darnell. Something must've jumped off at the station.”

“Well, I'll meet you upstairs because I can't wait another moment to get out of these Spanx.”

“Hi, dear,” Jaise said as she approached the stoop. “Would you like to come inside and speak with Bilal?”

“No, ma'am,” the officer said. “I'll wait here for him.”

“Darnell,” Jaise heard Bilal say as she walked into the house, “what are you doing here?”

Jaise walked upstairs to her master floor and before she stepped into her dressing room she pulled her cell phone from her purse. While at the party Jabril had called her at least twenty times, but at Bilal's insistence, she didn't answer. Every time the phone rang he would say, “He needs to know you're serious.”

Jaise quickly dialed Jabril's number and tapped a foot nervously. “Boy, would you come on here and answer this phone.”

Jabril's phone rang four times before his voice mail picked up, and Jaise mumbled, “Damn it, boy. I know your ass is somewhere raw doggin' it with some fast-ass ho!”

Jabril's voice mail began its spiel: “This is Jabril. You already know what to do. But if this is a chick and you're calling because I didn't call you back, get a hint and hang the fuck up.”

Beeeeeeep!

“Jabril,” Jaise began her message, “this is Mommy and that message is ridiculous. Now I can't talk long and I'm not going to keep calling you back. I hope you still have your ATM card because I'm going to put five thousand dollars in your account tomorrow morning. I love you, son, and I miss you.”

“Jaise.”

She dropped the phone. “Oh, Bilal.” She jumped, spotting him in the doorway. “You scared the hell out of me. I was . . . umm . . . just checking my voice messages.” She walked toward the door. “I have a taste for some apple pancakes tonight. How about breakfast food for dinner?”

“Jaise—”

“I know you hate eggs at night. But I just have this urge to whip up a pancake feast.”

“Jaise! Damn, I just need you to be quiet and listen to me for a moment.”

“Oh, that was rude. I don't know what your officer told you, but I didn't piss in your Cheerios.”

“I need you to sit down.”

She looked into his eyes and they were bloodshot. A chill ran through her. She'd never seen Bilal cry. Ever.

“What's wrong?”

“Sit down.”

“I don't want to sit down.”

“I think you should.”

“I said no. I'm not sitting down. The last time I was told to sit down my daddy had dropped dead in his mistress's bed. So I'm not sittin' down.”

Bilal stared at her in silence, his eyes completely wet with falling tears.

Jaise's heart raced and she felt like a bomb was building in her chest and set for an explosion. “Would you just tell me! Did something happen to Vera or one of my sisters?”

He shook his head. “Jaise, baby . . .” His voice trembled. “I'm so, so sorry. I never thought—”

“Never thought what?”

“Jabril.”

Her breathing stopped and her heart was on its way to follow suit. “What about Jabril?” She felt her body shutting down.

“Baby, he was out in Brownsville and he was shot.”

Jaise felt like a bullet had soared through her chest. Everything burned. Her eyes. Her arms. Her thighs. Her feet. Her stomach. She could barely breathe, but somehow she managed to swallow. “What was he doing in Brownsville? Of all the goddamn holes in the earth, he picks the most dangerous part of Brooklyn, and I know he was chasing some damn ho!” She wiped her eyes and grabbed her purse.

“Darnell, the officer, said he was selling drugs.”

“Selling drugs? My son? Oh my God. It's like he seeks to outdo himself every damn time!” She wiped more tears. “Let's just get to the hospital.”

“Jaise.” Bilal reached for her hand.

“Bilal! I have to go! My son needs me. He's been shot and I don't want to hear shit about him needing to be a man. Right now he needs his mother!”

“Jaise!”

“I don't want to hear it! I have to get to the hospital!”

“I need you to listen to me!”

“No, you don't!”

“Baby, Jabril . . .”

“No.” She backed away from him.

“Was killed.”

 

Black . . .

All she could see was black, and then suddenly a gray fog settled in and she could see her body on the floor, knees pressed into the carpet, and she could hear a wail sounding as if it had come from the pit of her womb. She could see tears slicing through her cheeks and snot oozing like glaze over her lips and running into the saliva that dangled from the corners of her lips.

She could see Jabril shrinking into the little boy she never wanted to grow up. The one who used to beg to sleep in her bed with her. The one who always thought he was Superman and could fly through the sky—which was why he walked across the kitchen table, jumped off, and landed on his elbow, breaking his arm in four places.

She could see him dressed in a black tuxedo on his way to his fifth-grade prom. His face chubby and his stomach pudgy.

“Mommy, girls don't like me.”

“Jabril, why would you say that? You are quite handsome!”

“But I'm fat.”

“You're perfect just the way you are. One day, I promise, you won't be able to keep the girls off you.”

She could see Jabril at sixteen. Skinny. Tall. And thinking he was the coolest sixteen-year-old in all of New York. “Ma, I think I can sing.”

“I know you can. I told you, you got it from me.”

“I want to try out for this talent show.”

“Try out and you're sure to win!”

And he did.

She could see him at twenty packing his clothes and screaming, “You don't love me! Fuck you!”

“I do love you! Mommy loves you more than life itself!”

She could see him running out the door. “Come back, Jabril! Come back!” And no matter how loud she screamed, he wouldn't come back and he wouldn't get up.

Jaise wasn't sure how she'd gotten to the hospital, if she'd magically appeared or someone had driven her there. All she knew was through the gray fog she could see Jabril's lifeless body on the gurney and she could hear glass-shattering screams as every part of her wept. She could see her face pressed against his as she called God and cursed him. “Your word said I could move mountains! That if I believed in Your son! That I had not because I asked not! That all I needed to do was knock and the door shall be opened! Your word said it and I'm here standing on Your word and in need! Please bring my baby back to me! Please! Please! Give him back. I want him!”

She could hear the doctors, nurses, and Bilal begging her to calm down. But she couldn't calm down. All she could do was bellow in agony.

She could see herself holding Jabril's lifeless body. She could feel her blood pressure reaching its peak, her womb about to burst, her head due to explode, and she could see herself passing out and silently asking God to not ever let her wake up.

Two Days Later

 

G
od is good!
Dressed in her erotic Catholic school uniform, Journee stood over Zachary and watched his lifeless body in bed. She pressed two fingers into his neck—and nothing.

Dear God, You may not come when I want you to, but You are always on time!

She eased out of Zachary's room and headed back to her wing of the estate.

“You give that ole dirty bastard his pussy for the morning?”

“He's dead,” Journee said in glee, as she hurriedly changed clothes.

Xavier hopped out of bed. “What you mean ‘dead'? Out of this bitch? Like slow singing and flower bringing? Like will reading and half of my money about to grease my damn palms? That kind of dead? Or you playing?”

“Dead. Like bye-bye motherfucker.”

“You call the nurse?”

“No.”

“Journee, you're fucking up. You need to ride this doting wife shit out to the end.”

“Look, I got this and I know what I'm doing. I've had this day planned out for years. I'm going to go downstairs for my morning tea and wait for the nurse to come and get me.”

“You do that. And while you're sipping your tea make sure you map out how soon you're going to give me my money, and I mean it. You and Chaunci think I'm playing with your asses, but I'm not. Now I'll admit, the pussy has been sweet, but it ain't like that.”

“You have to be patient. The amount of money you're asking for is not that damn easy to get my hands on! Now I don't have time to argue with you. I have to get to the kitchen.”

Journee changed into a fitted navy skirt and beige blouse. She pulled her hair back into a bun and draped pearls around her neck.

Should I break down and cry when the nurse comes in? No. I did that the last time. I'll be strong. No tears. That may seem odd though.

She walked into the kitchen. “Good morning, you two.” She greeted the house manager and the chef as she sat at the table.

I'll sit silently and let a single tear slide down my cheek.

Journee watched the kitchen door, waiting for the nurse to bolt in at any moment.

The chef handed her a cup of tea. Journee sipped and waited. A half hour went by and no nurse.

An hour passed.

Nothing.

Where the hell is she?

She shot the chef a Barbie doll smile as she got up from her seat and headed to Zachary's room.

“Where the . . . hell . . . have . . . you . . . been?!” Zachary peered, as Journee stepped into the doorway. “You're late! Now . . . let's . . . go . . . back . . . upstairs!”

Journee felt a wave of heat come over her body as she saw Zachary sitting there in his chair.

Maybe I'm seeing things.

“Journee, do you hear me?!”

It's really him
. She dropped like a stone, her head making a thumping sound as she hit the carpet.