“More from me like what?” He looked at her sideways.
“So you really gon’ stand there and pretend like you don’t know what’s going on?” Dylan shot him a look.
“Yo’, just tell me what the fuck is going on. ’Cause all y’all got an attitude wit’ me like I’ve done something wrong.”
“Umm . . . you have!” Dylan yelled. “I leave you a message damn near two months ago tellin’ you I’m pregnant, and you don’t call me back and say nothin’.”
“Pause.” Angel held his hand up. “You did
what?”
“I left you a message tellin’ you I was pregnant, Angel. Like, please don’t try to play me like you ain’t get it,” she shot.
“I didn’t. If I did I would’ve called you back. C’mon, man, you know me better than that,” he reasoned.
“I thought I did.” She shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head.
“So let me get this straight. You tellin’ me that you’re pregnant?” Angel asked.
“Yes,” Dylan groaned.
“And how many months are you?”
“I’ll be four months on the fifth,” Dylan sucked her teeth. “The baby is due June fifth.”
“And the baby’s mine?” Angel questioned in disbelief.
“Yes!” she yelled, annoyed.
“You sure?”
“Are you fuckin’ kidding me? Of course I’m sure.” Dylan rolled her neck. “Let’s not forget you ran up in me the night of your sister’s wedding without a rubber.”
“I’m just sayin’ . . . shit, a nigga gotta be sure these days. Hell, you heard 50 Cent’s song ‘Have a Baby By Me, Baby, Be a Millionaire.’”
“You know what? Fuck you.” Dylan pointed her finger in his face like a gun. “I ain’t gotta put up with this shit.” She turned to leave.
“Quit actin’ like a fuckin’ brat.” Angel reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her back.
There they stood, chest to chest, exchanging breaths. Old feelings and past memories flooded both of their minds. Angel gazed down into Dylan’s hazel eyes. She was pretty as hell. No, fuck that. She was gorgeous. Everything about her screamed top-notch bitch from her golden skin to her full, luscious lips.
Dylan was a risk taker. She never conformed to what everybody else was doing. She created her own path. Her numerous tattoos and rocker chic haircut proved it. She was nothing short of a sexy, glamorous, freespirited version of Rihanna. A part of Angel wanted to say fuck her and keep it moving, but then he wondered if by chance he leaned down and kissed her lips, would they still taste the same on his tongue . . . when the door swung open.
“Baby, we might have to have two flower girls for the wedding ’cause your nieces are just too cute.” Milania entered the room, shocked to find him standing there with Dylan.
“I didn’t know you weren’t alone,” she said, her heart thumping loudly.
Dylan stepped back and looked at Angel with shock and horror in her eyes.
“You gettin’ married?”
“As a matter of fact we are,” Milania answered, taking her place by Angel’s side.
“I don’t believe I was speaking to you,” Dylan shot with an attitude.
“Regardless of who you were talkin’ to, I answered the question.” Milania arched her eyebrow and gave Dylan a look that said, “and what?”
Dylan stood speechless. A mixture of emotions flooded her body. She wanted to smack the shit out of Milania, choke Angel, scream, cry, but the rising chunks of vomit in her throat reminded her that in a couple of days she would be four months pregnant and didn’t need the added stress.
“So, honey,” Milania wrapped her arm around Angel’s waist and smiled, “you wanna introduce me to your friend?”
“Uhhhhh, Milania, this is Dylan.” Angel shook his head tryin’ to gather his thoughts. “You remember her, don’t you?”
“Your ex, right? Wow, I’ve heard so much about you.” Milania eyed Dylan up and down with a look of disgust in her eyes.
“Is that right?” Dylan glared at Angel, surprised.
“Well, somebody had to be his shoulder to lean on after all the drama you put him through.” Milania dug the knife in deeper.
“So you told her our business?” Dylan’s chest heaved up and down.
“Yo’, it wasn’t even nothin’ like that—” Angel tried to explain.
“You know what? It’s cool.” Dylan put her hand up as if to say, “stop.” And with that being said, she turned and left the room feeling dizzy.
“It was nice meeting you again!” Milania grinned.
As carefully and as quickly as she could, Dylan raced down the steps. It seemed as if her body temperature had gone from 98.6 degrees to a scorching 103 in a matter of seconds. Sweat beads dripped from her forehead, and she couldn’t stop her hands and legs from trembling. She had to get outside. Some fresh air would do her good.
After grabbing her coat and purse, she turned the knob on the front door. She could hear Billie call out to her in the distance, but Dylan couldn’t turn back now. She didn’t even get into her car. She needed to become one with the wind. Heartbroken, she ran as far away from Billie’s house as she could when suddenly she couldn’t run anymore. The pink vomit in her throat had returned and was fighting to find a way out. Unable to suppress it, Dylan held her stomach and threw up next to a payphone
.
“Why’d you tell me this . . . were you lookin’ for my reaction?”
Anita Baker, “You Belong To Me”
3
Emotionally beat down, Dylan entered her South St. Louis townhome and slowly walked up the steps one by one. The sound of her dog, Fuck’em Gurl, barking from her kennel, caused her head to hurt. Not only did she have a throbbing headache, but Dylan couldn’t get the sound of her voice saying, “You gettin’ married?” out of her head.
Somehow, she never thought she’d utter those words to Angel. She always figured she’d be the one saying, “I do” to him. But life was known for throwing you lemons when all you really wanted was apples. Inside of her kitchen, Dylan placed her clutch on the countertop and stood aimlessly. A part of her wanted to submerse her misery in a pint of Edy’s Double Fudge Brownie ice cream, while the other side of her wanted to run upstairs to her room and burst into tears. Neither would solve the problem, yet both options seemed sufficient enough for the situation. Unfortunately for Dylan, the liquid currently building in her eyes won.
Before she knew it, a storm of tears covered the skin of her face, and she realized that from that day onward she would be embarking on her new frontier alone. Angel wouldn’t be there to hold her hand or kiss her lips along the way. Now, due to his impending nuptials, Dylan was forced to set fire to any feelings she harbored for him and grow twenty inches tall overnight. Only the notion would be easier than the actual deed.
How in the hell could Angel . . . my Angel . . . be engaged to that . . . that broke-down Selita Ebanks,
she wondered as a tear slipped into the corner of her mouth.
He belongs to me.
“Well, Dylan, you have been broken up thirteen months. When did you think he’d move on?” She spoke out loud to herself as she leaned down on the countertop and cupped her right hand underneath her chin.
“I wonder how long they’ve been together. Wait!” she shot up.
“What if he was fuckin’ her when we slept together? Naw,” she shook her head profusely, wiping her eyes. “Angel wouldn’t do no shit like that or would he?”
But whether Angel dicked her down while he had a chick was the least of Dylan’s worries. Any fantasy or hope that her pregnancy would somehow bring them back together had diminished as soon as Milania opened her big mouth. All of her dreams, wishes, yearnings, and prayers were flushed down the toilet like shit. Just as Dylan’s feet began to scream, “Bitch, get me outta these heels,” her doorbell rang.
“Who is it?” she yelled from the top of the stairs.
“CoCo and Chanel!” Tee-Tee yelled back.
“Use your key. I don’t feel like walkin’ down the steps!”
“I swear a pregnant bitch ain’t shit,” he groaned, digging through his Hermès Birkin bag.
“What are y’all doing here anyway?” she said once he and Bernard made it up the steps. “Why ain’t y’all still at Billie’s?” She turned her back and wiped her face.
“We had to make sure you wasn’t over here on suicide watch.” Tee-Tee took off his coat.
“Plus, it’s New Year’s Eve. We couldn’t let you ring in the New Year alone,” Bernard added.
“Oh,” she said, still trying to pull herself together.
“And plus, Billie’s bad-ass kids was gettin’ on my damn nerves,” Tee-Tee said, putting his stuff down.
Dylan stood quietly and didn’t respond.
“I know you ain’t actin’ funny. What you actin’ all weird foe? Ohhhhhhhhh,” Tee-Tee figured it out. “’Cause Angel’s back in town, and he makes you all anxious like a lesbian at a makeup counter.”
“No,” she laughed.
“Well, what is it then?” He kissed her cheek and noticed she’d been crying. “Gurrrrrrrrrl.” He made her face him. “Don’t be over here cryin’.”
“I’m okay,” she sniffled.
“No, you’re not.”
“But I will be.” Dylan tried her best not to cry. “What’s that in them bags?”
“Food, I’m hungry as hell,” Bernard answered.
“Awwwwww, y’all really are my bitches.”
“You know we got you, boo.” Tee-Tee smacked her on her ass.
“And we wanted to gossip,” Bernard added.
“Yes, honey!” Tee-Tee flicked his wrist in the air. “So for starters, did you see what Becky had on?”
“Who is Becky?” Dylan eyed him, perplexed.
“Puss ’n Boots, gurl.”
“Aw, yeah, I always forget that she has a real name. But no, I wasn’t there long enough to see her outfit.” Dylan sat on the couch and removed her heels.
“Guuuuurl, homegirl looked worse than them queens on RuPaul’s Drag Race.”
“Hell, naw, really?” Dylan giggled.
“Yes, gurl. Now forget the preliminaries. Let’s get down to the red of the meat. What happened between you, Angel, and Milania?”
“He claim he didn’t get the message—”
“That’s some bullshit,” Tee-Tee cut her off, rolling his eyes.
“Right,” Dylan agreed. “I don’t believe his ass either.”
“So did you tell him you were pregnant?”
“Yep.”
“What he say?”
“He asked if I was sure it was his.” Dylan screwed up her face, pissed off once again by the thought.
“Weeeell . . .” Tee-Tee shrugged his shoulders.
“I know, I know. I was a ho,” she laughed.
“I’m just sayin’,” he laughed too.
“Here, sweetie,” Bernard handed her a plate full of Thai food.
“Ooh, this looks good. You know, I bet y’all didn’t even bring me dessert.” Dylan batted her eyes.
“We did, and don’t be tryin’ to get off the subject. Back to the story, trick,” Tee-Tee demanded.
“Oh, where was I?”
“Angel asked you was the baby his.” Bernard sat down.
“Oh yeah, right after I chin checked his ass about coming to me like that . . . it was weird.” Dylan gazed off into space.
“How?” Tee-Tee asked, dying to know.
“’Cause we kinda just stood there for a minute lookin’ at each other, and I swear it was like he was gettin’ ready to kiss me.”
“Scandalous,” Tee-Tee snapped his fingers.
“Then Cruella De Vil entered the room and ruined everything.” Dylan took a bite of her food.
“You mean Angel’s fiancée, Milania,” Bernard commented.
“So y’all know?” Dylan rolled her eyes, chewing.
“Yes, honey,” Tee-Tee slapped his hand on her thigh. “As soon as you left, homegirl made the announcement in front of everyone.”
“Wow. What did Billie say?”
“Gurl,” Tee-Tee cracked up laughing, “Billie almost fainted. The chick was livid. I was afraid for my life.”
“Me too,” Bernard nodded. “I thought girlfriend was gon’ have a Teresa Giudice moment and flip over the table.”
“Are you serious?” Dylan asked astonished.
“Yes. From the look on Billie’s face, I could tell she wanted to say, ‘Fuck New Year’s Eve,’ and send everybody’s ass home,” Tee-Tee cracked up laughing.
“Wow, that’s crazy,” Dylan chuckled.
“She told me to tell you that she was gon’ call you as soon as everybody leaves,” Tee-Tee said.
“Shit, my ass might fuck around and be asleep. I want nothin’ more than for this day to be over.” Dylan’s bottom lip trembled.
“Awwwwww, pooh-pooh, don’t you let that muthafucka make you cry.” Tee-Tee wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “I know you’re hurt.”
“No, I’m not,” Dylan pouted, wiping her eyes.
“Yes, you are, and it’s okay to have wanted y’all’s relationship to work, but Angel has moved on. Now it’s time for you to do the same. Right now, the only thing that matters is him taking care of his seed.”
“And if he don’t, we gon’ sic the state on his ass,” Bernard joked.
“Or better yet, Gloria Allred,” Tee-Tee up’d the ante.
“Y’all ass is silly,” Dylan held her chest, laughing.
“I told you we got you, boo. We’re like Victoria’s Secret Wonder bra—we lift each other.”
The ten-minute ride back to the Four Seasons Hotel seemed like an eternity for Angel and Milania. She’d tried conjuring up a conversation with him, but her words only landed on deaf ears. Angel was so transfixed on the news of him becoming a father that he couldn’t think straight. The entire ride home he replayed his and Dylan’s conversation over and over again in his mind. He couldn’t even front a part of him was happy about the news, but the other side of him was pissed.
He’d finally come to terms with his unresolved feelings for Dylan, torched them with a match, and never once looked back. He’d settled on being with Milania. With her, he’d found the answer to all his problems. She was his distraction, his place of comfort, his wife-to-be, but now, he had to break the news to her that Dylan, his first love, the one chick who held his heart in the palm of her hand, was pregnant with his child.
Angel didn’t know how he was going to tell her, or more important, how she would react. Hell, the news hadn’t even settled into his brain yet. He could only imagine how she was going to feel. As they entered the Presidential Suite, Milania admired the layout. The suite consisted of a comfortable living area, a dining room with seating for six, an adjoining pantry, powder room, and an exceptionally spacious master bedroom.
“Well, that was fun,” she said sarcastically, throwing her Marc Jacobs patent leather flap bag on the sofa.
For her, the party was an absolute bore, with a capital B. She couldn’t get away from Billie and her group of minions fast enough. To her, they were nothing but a gaggle of uppity snoots. On top of that, the whole night Billie kept giving her the stink face. The Bay Area hood chick in Milania wanted to throw shade back, but because Angel was there, she kept her attitude on reserve.
“Soooooo,” she spun around on her Dior heels and faced him.
Angel stood at the minibar with his back turned, fixing himself a drink.
“Now that we’re alone, do you mind tellin’ me what you and ah . . .” she snapped her fingers, “what’s her face was doing in your niece’s room by yourselves?”
“Yo’, let’s not do that. Her name is Dylan,” Angel snapped unintentionally.
“Okay . . . ah . . . uh.” Milania chuckled, taken aback. “I’m not even gonna go there.” She licked her bottom lip furious.
“Man, come on, you know her name.” He looked at her. “We all know her name. You might as well get use to sayin’ it now.”
Milania folded her arms across her chest.
“And what the hell is
that
supposed to mean?” She rolled her neck.
Smothered in anxiety, Angel downed the glass of vodka and slammed it down hard on the bar.
“It means she’s pregnant!”
“And?” Milania screwed up her face.
“And she gettin’ ready to have my baby, so that mean she gon’ be around.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” She pretended to act surprised. “Wait, you mean to tell me that you’re actually serious? So, Dylan,” Milania made air quotes with her fingers, “tells you she’s pregnant by you and you just take her word for it?”
“Yeah, Dylan wouldn’t lie about no shit like that.”
“I’m sorry, but isn’t she the same chick that fucked her ex behind your back?”
“Look, we ain’t even gotta go through all of that. The baby is mine point-blank, it is what it is.”
“You can stop wit’ the attitude. I’m just tryin’ to look out for you,” Milania countered. “’Cause the last time we started gettin’ serious, she got in between us and you broke things off. Now here she comes again! I don’t know about you, but I’m not tryin’ to see me wit’ out you again. And I’m especially not tryin’ to see her play you out like a fool for the second time.
“Dylan,”
Milania stressed, making air quotes once more, “is a snake; she’s a liar and a manipulator, and I will bet everything, including my engagement ring, that that baby is not yours!”
“Nobody’s playin’ me. Yeah, Dylan did her dirt, but I think I know her a li’l bit better than you do.” He stepped past her.
“Wow.” Milania threw her hands up, stunned. “Should we just call the engagement off now ’cause you going mighty hard for a chick who ain’t shit!”
“I’m not going hard for nobody.” Angel spun around, heated. “I’m just tellin’ you what it is! I love you!” He took her by each of her arms and held her close. “And I wanna marry you . . . not her.” Hearing himself say that out loud stung Angel’s heart.
“But the situation is what it is. She’s pregnant, and we have to find a way to deal with it if we talkin’ about living the rest of our lives together. So what I’m sayin’ is . . . is this something you gon’ be able to deal with it?”
Milania gazed off to the side and willed herself to cry. She’d come too far to back out now. For the past two months, she’d sat idly by, playing the role of the supportive girlfriend. Angel never had to want for anything. She cooked his food, swallowed his dick, rubbed his feet, whateva, you name, she’d done it. And her hard work of sweet-talking him and hypnotizing the dick was rewarded with the ultimate payoff—a ring.