“This ain’t love, this ain’t human, and this ain’t real, so what the fuck is we doing?”
Chapter 15
Coming in the house at four o’clock and five o’clock in ther morning had become the norm for State since Ashton returned home from her European tour. Lately she’d begun to irritate the fuck out of him. He never knew that one person could talk so goddamn much and about the most irrelevant shit. In addition to that, the amount they’d spent on their second wedding—with his money, of course—was ridiculous.
Ashton just had to have the nuptials take place at The Plaza Hotel in New York. Her dress was custom designed by Reem Acra. The three hundred guests that attended dined on food prepared by Wolfgang Puck. Serendipity 3, known for the world’s most expensive chocolate sundae, catered the desserts, all dusted with twenty-three karat gold flakes. To cap off the night, there was a fireworks display. The total amount of the wedding was six million dollars.
On top of that, homegirl wanted a new ring because she felt as if the one she had wasn’t big enough. State never knew that something he wanted so much could irritate him so bad. The more time he spent with Ashton, the more he realized that he’d made a huge mistake by marrying her. The non-stop arguing didn’t help much either.
Before he left the house earlier that day, he and Ashton had gotten into a huge fight over how much money she was spending on redecorating the apartment. Ashton was bleeding him dry. She spent money the way she used toilet paper to wipe her ass. Nothing with her was real or of some kind of substance. Everything was fake and generic.
They didn’t even make love anymore. He couldn’t even vibe with her sexually. Any type of intimacy between them was strictly for getting a nut off only. And her over the top diva antics were driving him insane. His cousin told him not to let the shit bother him, but how could it not when Ashton was his wife? State didn’t even care anymore. Fuck it. He did what he wanted to do. Who cares if he was drunk and the stench of another woman lingered on his skin as he made his way into their bedroom? Ashton would just have to deal with it.
Ashton sat up with her back pressed against the headboard, dressed in a white silk negligee. She’d been calling State’s cell phone non-stop for the past six hours. Ashton felt bamboozled, hoodwinked. This wasn’t what she committed her life to, limitless nights wondering where her husband was. State was the most heartless man she’d ever met. And yeah, she could have any man she wanted, but at the end of the day, she chose to be with him. There wasn’t anything about State that she was willing to give up. Ashton was in it until the end.
“Where the fuck have you been?” she said with a menacing stare.
“Man, take yo’ ass back to sleep.” State waved her off, stumbling.
“If you weren’t so damn drunk, maybe you would see that I haven’t been to sleep!”
“And that’s my problem because . . . ?” He looked at her. “Yeah, okay.”
“I’m so sick of you.” she spat, feeling as if she was about to cry.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Who gives a fuck?” He took off his shirt.
“We’ll see how you feel when I leave yo’ ass!”
“Please do!” State placed his hands together as if he were praying. “That’s all I’ve been praying for.”
“Maybe I will! It’s not like I married you for love anyway,” she lied, knowing her cruel words would hurt him as much as he was hurting her.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” State asked, visibly saddened.
“Oh, please, don’t act like you don’t know. I’m only wit’ you for the currency.”
State stood with his shirt in his hand, shocked. He couldn’t fathom that Ashton had enough balls to tell him that to his face as if it were nothing. She didn’t even blink when she said it. She didn’t give a fuck about his feelings. What she said cut deep, like surgery. State looked at her with hate in his eyes. The emotions he felt mixed with the tequila in his system made him want to kill her.
“So, bitch, you don’t love me? All that punk-ass change I spent on that pussy-ass wedding and, bitch, you don’t love me?” His raised voice frightened her.
“Bitch?” Ashton repeated, crushed. “Bitch, yo’ mama’s a bitch. A stank bitch at that, wit’ her retarded-lookin’ ass.”
“Real talk, Ashton, I ain’t never hit a girl, but right about now I could choke the shit outta you.”
“Try it, muthafucka. I dare you.” she rolled her neck. “’Cause as soon as you lay a hand on me, I’ma call the police on yo’ black ass!”
“You know what?” State licked his lips, nodding his head. “Fuck you. I’m outta here. I ain’t gon’ be arguing wit’ yo’ ass.” He put on his shirt again.
“I know you ain’t gettin’ ready to leave again and you just walked in the house.” Ashton got out of the bed.
“Watch me,” he said, heading for the steps.
“You ain’t goin’ nowhere!” she yelled, mushing him in the back of his head.
“Ashton, you better go ’head,” he warned, getting up in her face.
“I know you fuckin’ somebody else!”
“Now you really buggin’!” He turned his back to her.
“You don’t even see how your lies are affecting me. This ain’t how our life was supposed to be, State. You’re the first dude I ever let get this close to me, but you ain’t cracked up to who you was supposed to be. You always gone. You’re never here wit’ me!”
“Would you wanna be around you? All you fuckin’ do is complain!” He poked her in the forehead with his index finger.
“Well, stop giving me shit to complain about and maybe I wouldn’t!” she screamed, feeling like she was losing her mind.
“Whateva,” State threw over his shoulder as he left.
“So, you really gon’ leave?” Ashton called out to him from the top of the steps.
State ignored her and kept on going.
“Well, fuck you too then!”
Billie sat opposite Cain in a conference room. A huge wooden table with a pitcher of water and four cups on top divided them. Cain didn’t even look her way. Devastated, she gazed at him, wondering how they’d ended up this way. All she’d ever wanted was some kind of love and understanding, and although she knew that what they had was dead, her heart still yearned for him. Day by day, she held on to the memories of what they used to be, but Cain acted as if she were invisible, or better yet, a stranger.
With his side facing her, he talked non-stop on his cell phone with Becky. Cain was making it known loud and clear that any feelings he once had for Billie were long gone and buried six feet deep. Billie despised the fact that every time she came in contact with him, the ache inside her heart intensified to its highest extreme. It didn’t matter that she wore her most expensive suit or that her hair was perfectly styled and her makeup was flawless the divorce was happening whether she liked it or not.
“You ready to start?” Her lawyer, Chad Bergman, asked.
“Yeah.” She nodded without hesitation.
“Let’s begin, shall we?” Chad announced.
“Baby, let me call you back,” Cain said sweetly into the phone. “We about to get this shit started. A’ight, love you too.”
Billie couldn’t help but roll her eyes.
“To start things off, my client is asking that she keep the apartment in the city, the beach home in L.A., the Rolls-Royce Phantom, Mercedes Benz GLK, and the Jaguar XJ. Although agreed upon in the prenuptial agreement that my client would receive two thousand five hundred dollars a month per child, my client is asking that amount be raised to ten thousand dollars per child, and the alimony amount of five thousand dollars be raised to forty thousand dollars a month.”
“I don’t think so,” Cain’s lawyer objected. “Mrs. Townsend can keep the apartment and the vehicles, but my client is not willing to give up the beach house, and will most definitely not be giving your client ten thousand dollars a month per child. And by the way, we will be contesting the forty thousand dollars a month in alimony seeing that Mrs. Townsend has a fourteen million dollar trust fund.”
“That has nothing to do with anything,” Billie shot, heated.
“Calm down, Billie.” Chad patted her hand.
“I will not!”
“I’m sorry to upset you, Mrs. Townsend, but your trust fund has everything to do with this. You’re financially stable, so why should my client be obligated to support you?”
“And your client shouldn’t have cheated with every whore that paid his insecure ass a little bit of attention, so why should I be punished for that? It’s not like I’m gettin’ a settlement. All I want is what’s owed to me and my children. Now, would you rather give me the seventy Gs, or go to court and let a judge decide a fair amount?”
Cain finally spoke up.
“Just give her what she wants.”
“But what about what we discussed?” his lawyer whispered.
“I don’t feel like going back and forth. Just give her the seventy grand and anything else she wants. I just want this over with as soon as possible. Look, Billie.” He sat up and placed his elbows on the table. “I figure it’s best you find out now rather than later. I’ve asked Becky to marry me, and she said yes.”
All Billie could hear was the sound of her heart beating. The sound was so loud it echoed like a bass drum. For months, all she’d done was think about him, so how could he be proposing to another woman? Billie loved him unconditionally. She put her trust, and most importantly, her heart into him, so how could he treat her like gum stuck on the bottom of his shoe? How could he not recognize all the unnecessary pain he was causing? How could he not think about how this would affect their kids? Did he not know that he was making the biggest mistake of his life?
Billie sat back in her chair. She swore the blood in her veins had stopped circulating. She didn’t know whether she wanted to faint or die. Everything that made sense in her life was being taken away. She wanted to scream. She wished that time would stand still and she’d have a minute to calm the raging waters flooding her life.
Billie didn’t know how long she’d been there, but at least a half an hour had gone by since she pulled up into her garage at her and Cain’s eleven thousand square foot Mediterranean-style estate in O’Fallon, Missouri. It was the first home they’d purchased together, the house they brought the children home to after they were born. She couldn’t move. Her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Billie’s mouth was dry and tears dropped from her eyes like hail.
Yeah, she’d gotten what she wanted in the divorce, but at the end of the day, money didn’t mean a thing when she’d lost the one she loved. Cain had to have seen the anguish in her eyes when he told her his news. It was as evident as the air he breathed. All Billie could think of was how the man she’d shared vows with, bore kids with, built a home with had turned into the Negro version of Jon Gosselin.
With each breath she took, Billie grew weary of the pain. She was sick of facing it alone. And yeah, the kids had adjusted to their separation just fine, but she hadn’t, and the news that Becky would be a permanent fixture in their lives caused Billie to crack. She had nothing more to give. All she knew was that the pain in her chest could no longer be a part of her existence, so she turned the key and started the engine.
In a trance, Billie rolled down the windows, allowing the fumes to flow up her nose. After a few inhales, it would be all over. Billie took in a deep breath and coughed. The smell was drowning her, but all she had to do was sit for a little while longer.
Then memories of how Kyrese used to suck his thumb and watch
Spider-Man
over and over again as a toddler came to mind, and Kenzie and Kaylee’s first time saying “Mama.” Yes, Billie was tired, fed up, and broken down, but one thing she wasn’t was a quitter, especially not when it came to her kids. They were the best thing that came of her marriage. They were the ones who kept her motivated and at peace. Cain could take his love away, but he could never take the love of her kids away.
Realizing that she was making the biggest mistake of her life, she covered her nose with her hand and opened the garage door. After pulling her car out into the cool, crisp air, Billie leaned her head against the headrest.
She was tired of fighting a battle she couldn’t win. She could no longer be afraid to hear the sound of just her heartbeat at night. It was a new dawn, a new day, and a new life for her, and Billie was determined to feel good.
“Ay yo’, babe?” Angel called out to Dylan from downstairs in the living room.
Two months had passed and they hadn’t spent a day apart. Gossip sites like Young Black and Fabulous, Concreteloop, and MediaTakeOut all talked about their budding relationship. Dylan loved every second of it. They’d done everything from creating home movies to going horseback riding and wine tasting. They took long walks with each other, debated on who the better rapper was—Tupac or Biggie—and cooked soul food meals at home. When in public, he held her hand, and at night, he held her tight. Dylan couldn’t get enough of Angel.