Millionaire Wives Club (8 page)

“Yes, I’m Chaunci,” she said.

“I know who you are,” he said. It was clear that he was searching her eyes to see if she had any inkling of who he was.

Chaunci averted her eyes from his. Even when they had been
lovers in college she had hated looking into his face because she was rendered powerless around him.

“It’s Idris.” He pointed to himself.

“I know who you are.”

“Well, since you know who I am”—he looked her over—“can I get a hug?” he asked and pulled her to him before she could refuse. As Chaunci pressed up against his chest she could tell by the way he squeezed her and began to rock with her that she felt good in his arms.

“Wow, you’re still beautiful.” He stood back and looked at her. “Damn,” he said more to himself than to her. “You really are breathtaking.”

“Are you done?” She pointed across the room. “Because this conversation you’re trying to have with me, I’m over it and I need to leave.”

He looked at her strangely. “That’s the nicest greeting you could think of after seven years?”

Chaunci paused and blinked. It was official this motherfucker was still bold and crazy, but she had something for his ass. She popped her clutch purse open. “My apologies, perhaps I should’ve greeted you with this.” She slapped three hundred-dollar bills in his hand. “Now bug the fuck off.” She turned to walk away, but before she could go too far, Idris grabbed her arm and turned her back to him.

“Wait a minute, wait,” he said.

“I’m supposed to wait for you again?”

Instead of letting her go, Idris pulled Chaunci to a secluded corner of the room. “What exactly are you saying by giving me this money?” He paused. “Did you have that baby? You took my money and still did what you wanted to do?”

Every tear that Chaunci thought she’d cried out years ago filled her eyes, but she’d be damned before she let him see her cry. “Listen,” she said, doing her best to sound beyond confident, “before
I take my fist and fuck yo’ big ass up, I’ma walk away from you.”

He blocked her path. “Chaunci, I don’t believe this.”

“Well, believe this. Fuck you.” She turned to walk away again and he immediately turned her back around.

“Look, I’m sorry. I messed up, I know,” he said, “and the truth is I always wondered over the years.” He stopped and shook his head as if he’d just been hit with a ton of bricks. “Listen, I need you to understand that I was a kid then.”

“And I need you to understand colic, motherfucker. And fevers, and teething, and crawling, and potty training, and school, and parent-teacher conferences and shit.” She poked him in his chest. “And I need you to understand how I stayed up at night and took care of our daughter while she was sick. Me, not you. And now that she’s old enough to realize she has a daddy, she spends her days dreaming about your ass, thinking you are Mr. Fuckin’ Mighty Man, while I’m stuck trying to explain where the hell you’ve been all these years.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t want to know.”

“Chaunci, be fair here. I really need you to understand—”

“Okay, and I really need you to understand this: Get the fuck out of my face.” She grabbed a drink from the butler’s tray and walked over to where Milan, Jaise, and a few others were sipping champagne and enjoying the jazz band.

“Hey, girl. We need to talk,” Chaunci said, kissing Milan on both cheeks. She nodded her head at Jaise and waved.

“Hi,” Jaise said dryly as she eyed the room. “I’ll be back.”

Chaunci rolled her eyes as Jaise walked away. She looked at Milan. “Give me a moment, I need another drink.”

As the songstress sang Phyllis Hyman’s “Meet Me on the Moon,” Milan sipped her white wine and drifted into a daydream.

“If I asked you to go with me to the moon, would you?” a voice whispered, interrupting her deep thoughts. “Or am I too late?”

Milan held her breath for a moment. She knew it was Kendu. Slowly she turned around and he was standing there. He was exquisitely beautiful, and her only regret was that he was somebody else’s husband and not hers. She did her best to smile, after all, technically he wasn’t the only one who was married. “I try not to think about those things,” she responded. She smiled as she noticed Jaise and Chaunci had returned and were both looking at her strangely.

After a few minutes Jaise walked over and stood between them. “Kendu, where is your wife?”

“Jaise,” Evan said as she walked over, “I’m here. You’re looking for me?”

“Yes, actually, I was.” She turned to Kendu and Milan. “Excuse me for breaking up the session. You can continue whispering to one another.”

“Whispering?” Evan said, caught off guard. “Whispering about what?” She turned to Kendu.

Both Kendu and Milan were silent. “I’m listening,” Evan continued.

Kendu ignored her and left her standing there as he headed toward the bar.

Evan tried to play off her embarrassment and chuckled. She looked at Milan and said, “Answer my question.” “What are you talking about?”

Evan pointed. “Let me explain something to you.” She shoved her finger into Milan’s face. “Kendu is my man, my child’s father, and you need to stay in your miserable fuckin’ lane. I’ve had enough of you hanging around. So what you better do—”

“Is get the fuck out my face!” Milan swatted Evan’s hand from her face.

“Ladies,” Jaise said, smiling at the cameras, “this is not the time nor the place. Let’s have some class.”

“You know what,” Milan spat at Jaise, “I’m a little sick of your troublemaking ass. You started the shit and now all of a sudden it’s ‘Ladies, ladies.’ Fuck you. Now, how’s that for class?”

“Oh wow, that’s an interesting twist,” Chaunci said, laughing. “Milan,” she now said seriously, “leave this crazy-ass chick alone. Trust me, in my two-thousand-dollar shoes I’m not dressed to throw.”

“I got this,” Milan assured her.

“You have what, Milan?” Evan rolled her eyes. “I’m so sick of you and this chick”—she pointed to Chaunci—“and your ghetto-ness.”

Chaunci looked at Evan’s glassy eyes. “You better get your high ass out my face.”

“You don’t need to be concerned about us being ghetto,” Milan spat. “You need to worry about how much of this ghetto-ness your husband likes.” Milan turned her back on Evan and spoke over her shoulder, “Pardon my back.” She started to walk away.

Evan walked swiftly around and in front of her. “What exactly did you say, bitch?”

“Wait a minute.” Chaunci stamped her feet. “Wait a damn minute. Did she, no, no, she didn’t. Milan, let’s just walk around this chick, because obviously she has lost her damn mind.”

“Would you be quiet?” Jaise gave Chaunci the eye. “We need to calm down.”

“Shut the fuck up and mind your business.” Chaunci shot a quick and fake smile at a passing photographer and posed. After the photographer took the picture and walked away Chaunci turned back to Jaise. “You’re the one who threw the rock and now you wanna act like, oh, let’s just calm down?”

Evan pointed in Milan’s face. “You could never be me.”

“Exactly,” Milan said, “because then I’d be on the outside looking in.”

“I want you to leave!” Evan pointed toward the door.

“Kendu invited me. Tell him to tell me to leave.”

“What the hell is going on over here?” Kendu stormed over, looking at Evan as if she’d lost her mind.

“Don’t be looking at me like that. You better get ahold of this bitch.”

“Don’t call her a bitch.”

“What would you like for me to call her? Tell her to get out,” Evan said to Kendu while pointing her finger back in Milan’s face.

“Or what?” Milan butted in. “What you gon’ do? ’Cause you are talking entirely too much shit.”

“I’m glad somebody agrees. I thought it was just me,” Chaunci said snidely.

“Please,” Jaise said, tight-lipped, “a crowd is starting to gather.”

“You wanna fulfill your fantasy and try to beat my ass, is that it, Evan? If not”—Milan slapped Evan’s hand out of her face—“then get your fuckin’ finger outta my face.”

“I know she didn’t just slap my hand,” Evan said as if she were asking the crowd encircling them a question.

“Evan, just let it go,” Kendu insisted.

“Oh, you takin’ up for her now?”

“Calm down,” he said, “you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Embarrassing myself!” Evan was floored, and as if she were under remote control she turned around, grabbed a drink from the passing butler’s tray, and tossed every ounce of champagne into Milan’s face.

The entire party seemed to screech to a halt. Milan blinked, and Yusef standing nearby could be heard to say, “What the—” Milan wiped her eyes and stood silently for a moment. Her mind rewound what had just occurred, and as fast as the drink had been tossed in her face she reared her hand back and slapped Evan so hard that Evan staggered back a few inches.

“Hurry, Carl!” Bridget yelled. “Get a close-up!”

Evan stumbled. After she regained her balance she took a swing at Milan but Kendu blocked it. “Stop it,” he said as security rushed in and Evan started screaming, “Out! I want them out!”

One officer grabbed Milan and the other grabbed Chaunci. “Oh hell no!” Chaunci yelled. “You better get the hell offa me. If I’da beaten the bitch she’d still be on the ground.”

“Hold it.” Kendu looked at security. “This is my home. I have this under control.”

“You’re taking up for her again?!” Evan screamed while holding her face.

“Just calm down, Evan,” Jaise said, grabbing her hand. “Let’s just try and work this out. This is really causing a scene.”

“At this point, I don’t give a damn.”

“Evan, believe me,” Jaise said, eyeing the onlookers, “this looks good for no one’s image. Please, let’s just talk about this. Remember that when fights break out donations fly right out the door.”

“Fuck all that!” Chaunci said, pissed. “And I want my goddamn check back too. I ain’t donatin’ shit!”

Yusef walked over and shook his head at Milan. “I can’t take you nowhere,” he said.

“Let’s just go!” Chaunci snapped. “I’ve been thrown out of better places by worse people. I don’t have to take this shit.”

Milan rolled her eyes in disgust as she turned to Kendu. “I hope that baby she had is worth it!” And she stormed out with Chaunci in tow.

Once they were outside, Carl asked the ladies to tell the camera their feelings. “I can’t believe this shit!” Chaunci spat at Carl. “She got me fucked up! That’s how I’m feeling right now.”

“Evan is just a phony asshole,” Milan added.

“You should’ve whupped that bitch’s ass,” Chaunci said. “Like she owed you a man! Trick-ass video ho.”

Jaise and Bridget walked swiftly over to Chaunci and Milan. “Ladies, can we talk about this?” Jaise said. “We need to straighten this out.”

Chaunci looked her over. “This is what you do: Since you started the shit and now you’re so interested in peace, tell the valet to get me my ma’fuckin’ car. I’m ready to roll.” She quickly turned
to the right and then the left. “Valet”—she snapped her fingers—“I need my car please.”

“Ladies, this can be worked out. Let’s just calm down,” Jaise insisted.

“Looka here,” Chaunci said, “I don’t know what you think this is or what you’re really looking for, but this is as real as it gets. I’m pissed, and since you really don’t know me, my suggestion to you is to get on.”

“Chaunci, Milan,” Kendu called as he walked outside with half of the party and every TV camera in the place following him. “Chill, time out, wait. Hold it.”

“Chaunci,” Idris said, walking over and grabbing her hand, “let me speak to you for a minute.”

“Look,” Chaunci said, snatching her hand back, “if you ain’t the fuckin’ valet don’t say shit to me. Please. We’re gone. Out of this mother … fuck…ker!” She wiggled her head and neck like a bobble head doll.

Yusef stormed over. “What in the motherfuck is you doin’, Milan?!”

“You better get the hell out my face!” she warned him.

“All that free liquor in there and you got to show yo’ ass? Da Truef can’t get his drink on for an hour at least?”

“Milan, Chaunci,” Kendu said, “Yusef, listen, please let me hollah atchu for a second.”

“Are you crazy?” Milan snapped. “Really, have you lost it? You see how crazy that heifer is and you out here in my face? Do you want me to have to kill her ass? I swear I’m tired of being your best friend. Fuck it. I’m done. She can have you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t tell me what I mean.”

Kendu ignored Milan and turned to Yusef. “Look, man, I really didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I understand, but you know women.” Yusef attempted to sound sober. “So I tell you what”—he patted Kendu on the
back—“if it makes you feel better I’ll take that Crown Royal and Johnnie Walker Red to go.”

“I can’t stand your drunk ass,” Milan snapped.

“Where the hell is the valet?” Chaunci stamped.

“Wait a minute.” Idris attempted once again to calm Chaunci.

“If I recall correctly you’re good at leaving,” Chaunci said as her car pulled up. “So stay the hell outta my way!” She hopped into her car, and Milan and Yusef raced down the highway behind her.

“Spot-the-hell-on!” Bridget growled in glee. “I think I’m gonna piss in my pants. Nielsen ratings through the roof!”

O
range and white Japanese paper lanterns swung in the late-morning Manhattan breeze as the soft chiming sounds of Asian music filled the restaurant’s rooftop terrace.

Although the producer preferred out-of-control shopping, cat fights, and high drama, there needed to be at least one episode where the women appeared to be working toward peace, even if afterward the claws came out.

Jaise and Chaunci were sitting in their seats with their legs crossed, watching the clocks, and waiting for their costars to show up. They’d grown tired of smiling at the cameras, making trivial conversation about the weather and politics. And instead of continuing with the bullshit, they each preferred to leave before one of them forgot that this was being taped for TV and a can of whup ass was suddenly opened.

After another half an hour went by, Jaise sighed. “I may as well take my sushi with me.”

Chaunci snapped her fingers at the waitress and pointed to Jaise. “Can she get an empty bento box to go?”