Material Girl (23 page)

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Authors: Keisha Ervin

BOOK: Material Girl
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“Maybe I shouldn’t have worn so much makeup.” She looked at herself in the rearview mirror. “I look like a Russian whore, and these damn Spanx are way too tight.” She tugged on the top of them. “Shit, if I breathe in too deep, I’ma bust my spleen. I should just turn around and go home. Bravo is showing reruns of
The Rachel Zoe Project
.”
But then Billie’s inner voice kicked in.
You are not takin’ yo’ scary ass home. You are going to go into this club and have a good time.
Billie didn’t want to admit it, but she wished that she could call Dylan for a much-needed pep talk. Dylan was always good at being a social butterfly. Billie, on the other hand, often kept to herself, and didn’t bother to socialize with people she didn’t know. She didn’t like to dance, hated crowds, despised cigarette smoke, and most of the men who tried to hit on her she felt weren’t educated enough to even approach her in the first place.
But Billie vowed that tonight would be different. She wouldn’t prejudge, and she’d let loose.
After valet parking her car, she paid the ten-dollar entrance fee and walked inside the club. Soft gold lights lit the open space. The color palette was a mixture of brown, tan, gray, and red. Mahogany wood floors and tables filled the bar area.
Billie felt weird being around a room full of people she didn’t know. Plus, some song called “Stanky Legg” was on. Hell, she didn’t even know what the Stanky Legg was. Billie didn’t know whether to drop it like it was hot, or bob her head to the beat. Unsure of what to do, she decided to head to the bar. Thankfully, the line wasn’t too long, but once Billie realized who the bartender was, she couldn’t decide whether to drink whatever she ordered or throw it in his face.
Recognizing her, too, he smiled and said, “You know, I’ve been hoping to run into you.”
“You know what? I have too, so I could cuss your ass out. What, did Cain hire you to follow me or something? ’Cause every time I go somewhere, I swear you in my shadow,” she shot.
“I don’t even know who Cain is.” He eyed her with a puzzled expression on his face.
“Yeah, right. You served me my divorce papers, remember?”
“I’m just a process server. I don’t know what’s inside those envelopes,” he answered honestly.
“Mm-hmm, tell me anything.” She rolled her eyes.
“What, like you’re beautiful, or that the dress you’re wearing got every man in the spot, including me, going insane?” He licked his bottom lip in a suggestive manner.
Billie placed her elbows on the bar and leaned closer. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me, understand? I don’t like you.”
“Yes, you do.” He leaned forward and flashed a winning smile.
“How you figure that?”
“’Cause of every time you say something to me, your lips tremble, which means you’re nervous, and why would you be nervous unless you liked me?”
“I swear I thought black men were cocky, but you white boys are just as over confident,” she replied, trying not to notice the liquid lava building in her panties.
“That was rude.”
“That was the truth.”
“You seein’ anybody?” he asked, cutting to the chase. “You got a man?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“’Cause I don’t want one,” Billie lied through her teeth.
“That’s a bunch of bullshit. I don’t believe that and neither do you. Ain’t no woman out here that don’t want a man,” he shot.
“Well, I can’t speak for other women; all I can do is speak for myself, and right now, I don’t feel comfortable being anyone’s girlfriend. Honestly, I don’t feel comfortable being anyone’s anything. Too much responsibility that comes along with it, and frankly, after eleven years of marriage, I’m tired of being someone’s everything and gettin’ nothing in return.”
“Look, Billie.” He placed his lips inches away from hers. “I’m diggin’ you. I think you’re fly, and if you’d stop tryin’ to be so goddamn hard, you’d see that I got my heart on my sleeve. It’s been there for days on end, waiting for you to open up yours too. But it’s up to you, Miss Lady, to let me in.”
Billie’s entire body blushed. She couldn’t front; homeboy was cute. No, scratch that. He was fine with a capital F. Everything from his boyish charm, Carey Grant haircut, ocean blue eyes, megawatt smile, and cocky persona reminded her of Robin Thicke. And yeah, he was a bartender by night and a process server by day, but that didn’t define who he was. Billie was fully prepared to take a leap.
“How can I let you in when I don’t even know your name?” She finally gave in.
“It’s Knox.”
“Well, Knox, I’ll let you take me out, but know that I’m a newly divorced woman with three bad-ass kids, and I don’t have no patience or tolerance for bullshit, so if you can’t handle it, then let me know now.”
“Are you done?” He spoke while admiring the curves of her waist.
“Yes.” She placed her shoulders back and stood up straight.
“A’ight. Now that you’re done spittin’ a bunch of unnecessary shit, sit down so I can get you something to drink.”
“I had to set you free, away from me, to see clearly the way that love can be when you are not with me.”
—Maxwell, “Pretty Wings”
 
Chapter 22
 
“Ahhhh, I look like a fat pig,” Billie complained while trying on clothes in the mirror. Her stomach, hips, and thighs all seemed to be ten times bigger all of a sudden. It was all mind-boggling, since she’d worked out five times that week. She hadn’t even had any sweets, which was her favorite meal of the day.
Knox would be there to pick her up in fifteen minutes, and she was nowhere near ready. Her makeup wasn’t even done. All she had was concealer under her eyes, which made her look like a linebacker. She was disgusted with her clothes and herself.
Nothing seemed to be going as she planned. She was supposed to be dressed and waiting to make her grand entrance. She’d come down the steps slowly and Knox would smile. He’d take her hand then softly kiss her cheek and tell her she looked beautiful, but because every outfit she tried on was too tight, too big, too casual, or too old lady-ish, none of her fantasy would come true. On top of that, Billie was nervous as hell. She hadn’t been on a date since Iceberg shirts were in style. What was she supposed to talk about? Since she obviously made more money than he did, was she responsible for paying the bill? It was all too much for her to handle.
“Fuck it.” She pulled the Jason Wu top over her head and threw it down. “I’m not going.”
Just as Billie came to that conclusion, her doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it!” Kyrese ran to the door. “Who is it?” he yelled before opening it.
“Knox. Is your mom home?” he said through the door.
“What’s the magic word?”
“Can I come in?” Knox chuckled.
“Wrong!” Kyrese swung the door open. “It’s open sesame.”
“Um, is your mom here?” Knox looked down at him.
“Yeah, why?”
“’Cause I’m here to pick her up.” Knox laughed.
“She’s upstairs waxing her upper lip, or whateva old ladies do.”
“You a funny li’l dude. What’s your name, man?”
“Kyrese. Do you know my dad? He’s Cain Townsend. You know, the greatest football player in the world.” His eyes lit up.
“Nah, but that’s wassup. Can I come in?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure, but wipe ya feet off before you do,” Kyrese warned. “If my ol’ bird see a hint of dirt on her floor, er’body in here gon’ get a whoopin’, ya dig?”
“I dig.” Knox grinned, stepping inside. “Thanks for giving me the heads up.”
“No problem.”
Knox knew Billie had dough, but damn! Her foyer was bigger than his entire apartment. A Swarovski crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Two long spiral staircases cascaded down from the second floor, and the floor was made of heated marble.
“Ay! You like to play NBA Live?” Kyrese asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“Yeah. What, you got it?” Knox replied.
“Do I look like a stunna to you? I get all the new video games before they come out. Shorties at my school call me Mr. Never Rock the Same Thing Twice. That’s just how fly I am.” He popped his collar.
“I feel you.”
“Now, where you plan on taking my moms out to eat?” Kyrese posed in a B-boy stance as Knox took a seat. “McDonald’s or Burger King? I suggest McDonald’s, ’cause she love they Filet-O-Fish and fries.”
“Nah, man.” Knox laughed. “I’ma take her some place a little nicer than that. We going to this spot called Phi.”
“A’ight, a’ight, I can swing with that. You on some ol’ playa ish, but check it, home slice: if you even think about hurtin’ my moms, me and my Transformers gon’ be seein’ you. You feel me?” Kyrese warned, giving his best impersonation of a tough guy.
“No worries. I got you,” Knox assured.
“Now that that’s squared up, let me get this broad for you. Ay yo’, Ma!” He placed his hands up to his mouth and yelled, “Yo’ boyfriend here!”
“Boy, hush. He is not my boyfriend,” she said, coming down the steps.
At least not yet.
“You look . . .” Knox stared her up and down.
Billie was dressed in a pair of plaid pajamas.
“Under dressed,” he said, dressed handsomely in a black sweater with a white button-down and black tie underneath, black pants, and black-and-white shell toe Adidas. “Am I missing something?”
“Kyrese, go in the play room with your sisters, please,” Billie said.
“Do I have to?” Kyrese groaned. “They tryin’ to make me dress up like Michelle Obama again.”
“Just go in there, please.” She giggled.
“A’ight, but if they even think about puttin’ some lipstick on me, it’s on.”
“Bye, boy.”
Once Kyrese was out of the room, Billie focused her attention on Knox. “Look, I’m sorry for having you drive all the way over here, but I’m not going.”
“Why?” He looked at her, disappointed. “It’s obvious that you’re not sick, and your son just gave me my warning speech, so we good to go.”
“It’s just too soon for me. I’ve only been divorced a couple of months, and here I am dating. Like, that’s crazy.”
“It’s not like we’re gettin’ married, Billie. All I’m tryin’ to do is show you a good time and make you smile.”
“And I appreciate that, but I’m just not ready; plus, I have nothing to wear.” She halfway told the truth.
“I can understand the not being ready part, but you not having anything to wear is a load of crap and you know it. Every time I see you, you be fly as hell, so how about this: instead of going out, why don’t I cook us dinner?”
“Are you serious? You would do that?” She tried her best to remain cool and hide her excitement.
“I’d do anything to spend a little time wit’ you, ma.” He stepped closer and lightly kissed her lips.
“Well, all right.” She smiled. “We can have dinner here.”
“What are your girls’ names?”
“Kenzie and Kaylee.”
“You mind if I ask them to come help? Maybe we could all do it together,” he suggested.
“I’d like that.”
Some of the wealthiest women in St. Louis gathered at Ivey-Selkirk for Dylan’s furniture, fine art, and fine jewelry auction. After her talk with Tee-Tee, Dylan realized that she needed to get off her butt and do something to change the state of her life. Plus, she needed to make a buck and quick. Creditors were on her ass. Without any job skills, the only way she could make money was to auction off her most prized possessions. It was the only way to get herself out of the pitch black financial hole she was in.
Dylan was proud of herself, though. It was her idea to do the auction. Tee-Tee’s pep talk really helped her realize that things needed to change. Sure, she didn’t have Billie or Angel in her life anymore, and she didn’t have a pot to piss in, but with the faith of a mustard seed, she knew that all of that would change in due time—but she had to get off her ass and do something about it first.
Nothing besides losing Angel and Billie hurt more than to give up the things she’d acquired over the years. At times throughout the auction, she wanted to scream out “Stop!” but Dylan knew it had to be done. She’d burned a lot of bridges, but the fighter in her wasn’t going to give up on the ones she loved, even though they’d given up on her.
 
 
“Where in the hell are you taking me?” Billie asked, surveying her surroundings. She and Knox were driving farther and farther into the hood, and she didn’t like it one bit.
“You are so hard-headed. Didn’t I tell you to sit back and relax?” He looked over at her, amused by her behavior.
“It really fucks me up that yo’ white ass is so laid back about going to the hood, but I’m sittin’ here afraid for my life.”
“And it fucks me up that I fell in love with a racist.” He laughed.
“You need to stop.” Billie wrapped her arm around his neck. “You know I love yo’ white ass.” She lovingly kissed his cheek.
Billie was totally enthralled with Knox. He’d come into her life and turned her into a bumbling fool. Butterflies filled her stomach each time she heard his voice. To see his face was like eating cotton candy on a warm summer’s day, and after months of dating, her knees still trembled whenever she kissed his lips. Knox was a perfect ten. The kids loved him, which only made Billie love him more.
And yes, they were different like day and night. Knox threw caution to the wind, while Billie was overly cautious. Where he was provocative, she was conservative. He liked hip-hop; she preferred R&B. Billie couldn’t live without a morning cup of tea; Knox, on the other hand, couldn’t tolerate the taste. Yet and still, what she saw in him was more than likes, dislikes, habits, or race.
When she made it hard to enter her heart, he never gave up his quest. Knox calmed her down when she was too uptight, and made her smile when she wanted nothing more than to be sad. Every day with him was like no other. He gave his love so freely and abundantly, and Billie wanted nothing more than to give every emotion he gave to her back to him.
“But seriously,” Billie said. “All jokes aside. Where are you taking me?”
“Does it matter? We’re here now.” He parked the car.
Billie looked to her right at the building. It was a hole in the wall club called Cougars.
“Are you tryin’ to be funny?” She turned back to Knox.
“Man, if you don’t get yo’ ass out this car and come on . . .” He opened his door and got out.
Billie sat still. For a second she thought about calling her driver to come get her, but then she looked up at Knox’s face as he waited for her by the club’s door. There was no way she could break his heart and leave. He’d been talking about bringing her there all week. Billie quickly said a silent prayer to God that he would keep her safe and that her Tory Burch bag wouldn’t get stolen, then she got out as well.
Excited, Knox escorted Billie inside the small nightclub. The place was packed like sardines. Everybody in the spot knew who Knox was. They couldn’t get through the crowd without someone giving him a hug or pound. Once they made it to the bar, Knox asked what she wanted to drink, but Billie refused to drink anything. She was absolutely petrified.
She hadn’t seen so many thugs in her life. All the men were dressed in white tees and baggy jeans. Billie swore that in a matter of minutes a fight would break out or someone would start shooting. And the women were a whole ’nother conversation within itself. One lady had finger waves, a freeze, and a two-tone black and blonde crinkle ponytail in her head, with two golds in her mouth. Billie stuck out like a sore thumb in her Donna Karan collection cobalt blue twist blouse, stirrup leggings, and black Balenciaga pumps.
“Baby, why did you bring me here?” she asked, ready to go home.
“’Cause it’s fun. I enjoy myself here more than I do any other place I’ve been. What you need to do is loosen up. For real, ma. Allow yourself to have some fun. Quit lookin’ at what everybody got on and chill.”
Billie wanted to, but she just didn’t think she could.
“Come dance wit’ me.” Knox held out his hand.
“You’ve got to be kiddin’ me, right?” Billie crossed her arms, staring at him.
“No, I’m not, and trust me, I’m doing you a favor by even askin’. ’Cause in a minute, you ain’t gon’ have no choice.”
Billie loved when Knox got forceful. It turned her on.
“Huuuuuuuuh! Come on!” She stomped toward the dance floor.
Not into the notion of dancing in public, Billie stepped from side to side; that was, until the DJ began spinning M. C. Breed’s “Ain’t No Future in Yo’ Frontin’.” Billie was instantly reminded of her childhood, and she started grooving to the beat. Then MC Hammer’s ’90s classic, “Pumps and a Bump” started playing, and Billie really lost her mind. Any inhibitions she had went out the window. Billie started doing the Roger Rabbit, followed by The Cabbage Patch, and then The Snake. What really got her going was when Oaktown 357’s “Juicy Gotcha Krazy” came through the speakers.

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