Material Girl 2 (11 page)

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Authors: Keisha Ervin

BOOK: Material Girl 2
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“You know what?” Milania opened her eyes and stood up. “I’m sick of y’all.”
“On the real, don’t get to talkin’ out the side of yo’ mouth wit’ no slick shit, straight up,” Angel cautioned, walking out of the room so he could place his cup on the dining-room table.
“Negro, pleeease! Every time I breathe, I gotta hear about Dylan this and the baby that! Don’t you think I get tired of hearing about that bitch?”
“You can stop with the soap opera act,” Angel reentered the room. “You knew what you was gettin’ into when I told you she was pregnant, so don’t start throwin’ a fit now.”
“Nigga, I ain’t five! I’m tellin’ you how I fuckin’ feel, but it’s obvious that you don’t give a fuck! So you know what? The hell with you,” she pointed her finger at his chest. “The hell with her, and the hell with that baby! As a matter of fact, I hope she lose that muthafucka!”
“What the fuck you just say?” Angel stepped up into her face, heated.
“Did I stutter, nigga?” Milania rolled her neck, unfazed. “Ever since we got here, it’s been about her and that fuckin’ baby! Well, what about
me
and what
I
want? Yo’ selfish ass don’t even take that into consideration! You just expect for me to be this ready-made stepmother to a baby that might not even be yours!”
“You pushin’ me right now,” Angel warned, balling his fist.
“And you’ve been pushing me away. I have had enough,” Milania took off her engagement ring and dropped it on the floor. “Go marry that trifling, cheating-ass bitch ’cause right about now, she can have you! I’m outta here!”
Milania snatched up her purse and stormed toward the door.
“Where you going?” he yelled, racing after her.
“None of yo’ damn business!” Milania screamed before slamming the door in his face.
Stunned by her tyrannical outburst and blatant disrespect of him, Angel reared his hand back and punched the wall. Fire burned through his veins. It was a dumb, irrational move that could fuck up his livelihood, but he had to take his aggression out on something before he had a serious meltdown. Angel glanced down at his hand. His knuckles were scraped and bleeding.
Fuck!
he shouted out loud. The blood on his hand only infuriated him more. He headed down the hall to the bathroom when his cell phone started to vibrate.
“Hello?” He placed the phone up to his ear.
“Where are you?” Billie asked. “The shower started almost an hour ago.”
“Put Dylan on the phone,” Angel replied rudely.
“Mmm,
excuse me?
” Billie took the phone away from her ear, appalled. “Dylan, come get the phone!”
“Who is it?” Angel could hear her say in the background.
“My rude-ass brother.”
Dylan happily took the phone. “Hi. Where are you?” she asked.
“I’m not coming,” he decided, feeling like, fuck everybody. For once, Angel was going to be selfish and put his feelings first.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Dylan replied in shock.
“No, I’m not.”
“But you said you would be here—”
“And you said you would be faithful, so what the fuck does that mean? Absolutely nothin’,” Angel snapped, cutting her off.
As soon as the words left Angel’s mouth, he regretted it, but it was too late. The damage had already been done and before he could say he was sorry, Dylan hung up in his ear. Fed up with how his day was going, Angel hurled his phone at the wall, breaking it into a thousand pieces. He wanted to fuck up some shit, yell at the heavens, curse at the wind. The shit he was dealing with was too much for even a man like him to handle.
Angel always saw himself as some kind of real-life superhero who could conquer the world. No matter what life threw his way, he always assumed he’d be able to deal with it, but being engaged to one woman while another carried his child was like kryptonite. Everything about the situation was killing him softly.
 
 
Angel plopped down on the sofa and leaned his head back. Staring at the ceiling, all he could think was this wasn’t how his life was supposed to be. But nobody gave a damn about his feelings. They never took in account that he was under a lot of pressure too. After stewing in his emotions and drowning his feelings in alcohol, he gathered his emotions and stuffed them deep down into the pit of his troubled heart and headed over to the shower.
Despite what was going on with him personally, there was no way he could afford to miss such a moment in his and Dylan’s life. Plus, he needed to fix the messedup situation he’d created between himself and Dylan. Bumping Method Man’s “Break Ups 2 Make Ups,” Angel pulled up to Billie’s estate. Once his car was parked, Angel pocketed his keys and grabbed the bouquet of “Mango” and “Treasure” calla lilies he’d picked up for Dylan along the way. As he stepped out of his car the afternoon sun glowed against his skin.
Approaching the rear of the mansion, Angel spotted a sea of women dressed in brightly colored dresses, but amidst the abundance of beautiful faces, none stood out like Dylan’s. Angel wished that he could say that he was over her, but every time he took a look at her hazel eyes and angelic smile, old feelings came flooding back. Despite his harsh words earlier in the day, she carried on as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
Beams of sunlight seemed to highlight her every move. Watching her was like watching art come to life. Angel loved seeing her so at peace. It brought a smile to his face, but his smile quickly faded once he noticed State pull her to the side and give her a hug.
What the fuck?
he whispered underneath his breath, dropping the flowers down to his side. Angel felt as if he’d been gut punched. It took everything in him not to run over to Dylan and yank her up by the neck. Then he wondered if the rumors could be true. Was it all a hoax? Was State really the father of Dylan’s child? Instead of lashing out and having a tyrannical outburst Kanye-style, Angel preceded in her direction as calm as he could be.
“I gotta jet,” State released Dylan from his grasp.
“Well, thanks for coming, and thanks for the Fendi diaper bag and blanket.”
“It was nothin’. You know despite the bullshit, I got you.”
“I . . . just . . . bet . . . you . . . do,” Dylan said slowly as if she’d seen a ghost.
“You a’ight?” he asked, noticing the change in her demeanor. “Please don’t tell me you going into labor ’cause there is only so much a nigga like me can take.”
“No . . . Angel’s here,” she spoke just above a whisper.
Dylan wished that she could be the type of chick that could give a fuck about the way Angel might feel upon seeing the man she’d betrayed his trust for, but the look of sadness mixed with anguish was too much for her to ignore.
“Let me holla at you,” Angel stepped before her while shooting State a look that could kill.
“Stay sweet, Ma,” State leaned forward and brushed his lips on Dylan’s cheek. Stepping back, he shot Angel the screw face, then walked away.
“Wack-ass nigga,” Angel uttered.
“I thought you wasn’t coming.” Dylan folded her arms and rested them on top of her protruding tummy.
“Yeah, well, I’m here now,” he responded, still ticked off by State’s presence.
“And what’s
that
suppose to mean?” she smirked.
“It means that I’m sorry for buggin’ on you like that, but that don’t mean that you can just call yo’self being mad at me and gettin’ smart,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Dylan tried her damnest not to smile but failed miserably. She couldn’t stay mad at Angel if she tried.
“You look beautiful.” He scanned his eyes over her entire physique.
“Thanks.”
“I got these for you,” he handed her the flowers.
“Awwww, thank you,” she blushed, inhaling the scent.
“Did you like the stuff I got for the baby?”
“I haven’t opened the gifts yet.”
“What you waiting on?” He took her hand and led her over to the three tables filled with presents.
“C’mon, everybody, we’re gettin’ ready to open gifts,” Dylan yelled out to the crowd.
“So I see li’l Jon Gosselin finally showed up,” Tee-Tee remarked taking a seat.
“Shut up,” Dylan warned, squinting her eyes.
“Excuse me! Excuse me!” Candy trampled her way through everyone to get to the front. “I gotta sit next to the birthday girl!”
“By the way, my mom is here,” Dylan whispered to Angel.
“I see.” He looked at Candy, puzzled.
“Before you open anything, Mama gotta special surprise for you,” Candy beamed.
“Uh, ah, Mama. I don’t need no surprise. Whateva you got, take it back ’cause I don’t want it.”
“It’s a good one, Chunky, I promise.”
“No, Mama,” Dylan shook her head profusely.
“Quit being so goddamn negative!” Candy stomped her foot. “You gon’ ruin the damn surprise! Now shut up, shit! C’mon, baby!” Candy signaled to someone by waving her hand in the air.
Out of nowhere, Gray’s uncle-in-law Uncle Clyde came across the lawn in a god-awful blue crushed velvet jumpsuit doing Michael Jackson’s sideways glide, singing, “There Goes My Baby.” Dylan felt like she wanted to faint.
“Honey, call FEMA, ’cause this is a disaster,” Delicious laughed.
“This is
not
happening,” Dylan lowered her head and looked down. “I swear to God I’m going to throw up.”
“What’s going on?” Gray asked, outdone as well. “Uncle Clyde, what are you doing here?”
“Tell ’em, Hot Plate.” Uncle Clyde hugged Candy tightly.
“Well, after I left, I was a li’l down on my luck, but you know me. I got that eye of the tiger, honey, and one day, I was at this bar sippin’ on my boy Jack,” she held up her glass, “when my pussy said, ‘Beep-beep-beep.’ So I bent down and said, ‘What is it, girl?’ And she said, ‘Beep-beep-beep.’ And I said, ‘You smell money?’ And she said, ‘Beep-beep-beep,’ and I said, ‘At the end of the bar?’ And sure enough, there he was.”
“Who? Clyde?” Dylan jumped in.
“No, Dick, my deceased husband.”
“Ba-na-nas,” Tee-Tee grinned, taking a sip of champagne.
“So let me get this straight. You met some man name Dick and married him, and now he’s dead?” Dylan said, dumbfounded.
“Yes,” Candy dabbed her eyes with a hundred-dollar bill. “God bless his soul. He was eighty-two years old.”
“How did he die?”
“Let’s just say we were in the boudoir.” Candy fanned herself. “Now, I know how my mentor Anna Nicole felt when her boo passed. But thankfully, Dick didn’t have any next of kin, so I ended up with everything.”
“How much is everything?” Tee-Tee probed, salivating.
“Twenty-five million. Hallelujah, thank you, Jesus,” Candy pretended to shout.
“Aww, shit! Get it, Aunty!” Tee-Tee danced, doing the Headache.
“That still doesn’t explain you and Clyde,” Dylan spoke up, swatting away a fly with her hand.
“Go head and tell ’em, Hot Plate. Tell ’em how you hooked back up wit’ Daddy.” Clyde curled his fingers like a cat’s claws and growled.
“After the funeral, I decided to take a trip to Kentucky for the ribfest, and lo and behold, guess who was performing on the main stage? Clyde. Now, I don’t know if it was my fourth glass of Jack or Clyde’s sequined jumpsuit, but I fell in love and ever since then, we’ve been inseparable.”
“Show’em the ring, Hot Plate,” Clyde insisted, patting her on the butt.
“Oh, shit! How could I forget? Take that in ya’ ass, Chunky!” Candy held up her hand and flashed her two-finger diamond ring made in the shape of a turntable.
“We’re gettin’ married!” Candy shrilled.
“Well, my day is ruined,” Dylan shook her head in shock.
“
I’ma be yo’ new da-dddy!
” Clyde sang like Brown from the Tyler Perry movie.
“Oh God.” Dylan shook her head profusely. “Somebody get me a fan! I feel like I’ma faint!”
 
“You choose to give up on the possibility of love for us.”
Teedra Moses, “All That I Have”
10
“I can not believe that on the day of my baby shower, the day I’ve been dreaming about for months, not only does Candy show up, but she’s rich!” Dylan shrilled, stomping up the steps. “Rich and gettin’ married again for the one-hundredth time! All I wanted was to open fabulous gifts and eat cake, but nooooo, here come Candy and all her ghetto-fabulousness stealing all of my thunder yet again. And there I am drifting into the background while she makes everything about her,” Dylan complained, entering the kitchen.
Not knowing what to say, Angel put down the gifts he’d brought into the house, opened his arms wide, and said, “Come here, man.”
Dylan poked out her bottom lip and rushed over into his arms. “I’m sorry. I know I’m going on and on.” She buried her face into his chest.
The scent of his Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue cologne was enthralling.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You’re only sayin’ how you feel.” He held her close.
Angel wanted to hold her in his arms forever. She felt so warm in his arms. Dylan felt the same way. Becoming lost in his touch, she finally pulled away and said, “So, umm . . . yeah . . . you want something to drink?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He placed his hands inside his pockets.
“Well, have a seat. I mean, unless you got to get home before yo’ chick have a contraption fit,” she probed with baited breath.
“Man, please, and you mean a conniption fit.” Angel walked over to the couch and sat down.
“Yeah, that too,” Dylan snapped her fingers.
It was kind of weird for him to be in Dylan’s crib without anyone else around. He’d avoided it this long for fear of what might happen, but the longer he sat, the more comfortable he became. All of his worries seemed to drift away and evaporate. He would never admit it, but deep down inside, Angel knew he was home.
“I swear, the further I get into this pregnancy the more tired I become.” Dylan sat down beside him.
“Put your feet up here.” Angel patted his lap.
Dylan smiled and did exactly what she was told. Angel gently took off each of her heels and began massaging her swollen feet.
“Shut the front door, that feels so good.” She threw her head back, relishing the feel of his hands.
“Why yo’ feet so fat though?” he questioned, screwing up his face.
“Shut up!” Dylan smacked him on the shoulder. “That’s what happens when you’re pregnant.”
“That’s a damn lie. I ain’t never seen no feet like these before.” He placed her left foot up to his nose and smelled it. “And they stink.” He held his breath.
“My feet don’t stink!” Dylan held her stomach and laughed. “An-y-way, I was thinkin’ maybe we should wait and find out the sex of the baby when I give birth.”
“That’s what’s up.” Angel ran his thumb up and down the middle of her foot.
“I just have one request, though. When I do go into labor, just make sure that I’m in Chanel.”
“What?” Angel laughed.
“No, listen,” she insisted. “I have this really cute black cashmere Chanel vintage robe that I just bought, and I feel like then is when it could be used at its best.”
“I wish I could honestly say that I’m surprised. You mind if I turn on some music?” Angel looked at her.
“Nah, go ahead.” Dylan set her feet down on the floor.
Angel walked over to her stereo and popped in one of Dylan’s mixtapes. The first song was Lil Wayne’s “I Am Not A Human Being.” Out of nowhere, Angel started doing the robot.
“Challenge!” he yelled, posing in a b-boy stance.
“Oh, word?” Dylan cheesed, standing up doing the wop. After spinning around in a circle, she pointed her finger at him and said, “Challenge!”
“That ain’t shit!” Angel waved her off and busted out doing the running man. He finished his routine off with the typewriter and the cabbage patch. “Now show me what you got, li’l mama!”
“Not a damn thing! I’m tired as hell.” She rubbed her belly and laughed.
“You wack,” Angel teased her.
“Whateva, I’ll be wack,” she said preparing to sit back down.
“Uh-uh, come dance wit’ me.” Angel took her by the hand and led her to the middle of the floor.
Seal’s “Secret” was playing. Angel held Dylan close. Cherishing the moment, they swayed from side to side. Suddenly, every bad thing in the world disappeared, and it was just the two of them. What they shared was as strange as the weather, but it felt right. As time elapsed, they ventured, fingers intertwined, into her bedroom. Dylan lay facing him sound asleep. She didn’t even need a cover that night. The heat from Angel’s body kept her warm.
Angel lay snuggled close in front of her. His fingertips gently traced the outline of her face. He could stare at her forever. She was the definition of beautiful. Her eyes, nose, and lips were made just for him. She was his baby, his heart, his soul, his rib. Angel just hated that things between them ended the way they had.
Maybe they could’ve gone the distance. She probably would’ve ended up being his wife. Angel couldn’t even front. Dylan was already his. He didn’t need a ring to prove it. But then he remembered the woman at home he’d professed his love to and realized that love wasn’t as easy as fairy tales made it out to be. Resting his right hand on her belly, Angel nestled his nose on her forehead and inhaled the rich scent of her skin until his reality turned into the place we all call dreamland.
 
 
The next morning, Angel awoke to the soothing sound of Teedra Moses’ voice. That morning she sang about a lover not being ready to give his all. Angel sat up and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t even remember falling asleep, let alone at Dylan’s place. Swiftly, he turned his head and gazed at the other side of the bed. It was empty. The aroma of crêpes let him know she was on the second floor. Angel rose from the bed and put on his sneakers which were beside the bed and walked downstairs.
“Good morning,” she smiled, warmly dressed in a black spaghetti strap nightgown.
“How long you been up?”
“Since around five. I’ve been working on my book.” She wiped her hands on a towel.
“What book?” Angel asked, noticing the sea of food she’d prepared.
Dylan had fixed crêpes with fresh berries and homemade whip cream, poached eggs, bacon, and sausage.
“I didn’t tell you. I wrote a cookbook and a got deal for it.”
“Word?” He took a seat at the table.
“Yeah. State hooked me up with this awesome agent, and I pitched her my idea, and she got me a deal.”
“State, huh?”
Dylan fixed him a plate and swallowed.
“Yeah.”
“So, y’all close, huh?” he asked, feeling his heartbeat increase.
“I wouldn’t say that.” She set his plate down in front of him. “We’re just cool, that’s all.”
“I mean, y’all must be something. He gettin’ you book deals, coming to yo’ job, and coming to the shower and shit.”
“So that’s what this is about?” Dylan scoffed.
“It’s about you not giving a fuck about how I feel!” He hit the table with his fist, causing his plate to rattle and Dylan to jump. “You got that nigga hangin’ around like it’s all good! Shit, I’m startin’ to wonder if that is my muthafuckin’ baby.”
Dylan instantly shrunk to two feet tall. That’s how big Angel made her feel. His words made her want to die. Nothing she ever did would be good enough, and she was tired of trying to prove her loyalty to him.
“The old me would’ve cussed you clean out for that, but I’m not gon’ even raise my blood pressure. ’Cause I’m not gon’ fight wit’ you. I’ve apologized I don’t know how many times for what I did. And I know that him being around bothers you, but you’ve moved on.”
“So what? Since I’m wit’ Milania, that mean you can just throw that nigga up in my face whenever you feel like it?”
“You got a whole girlfriend at home, how you gon’ talk?” Dylan shot back.
“That’s different,” he challenged indignantly.
“If that’s what you gotta tell yourself in order to sleep at night. Look, you’re doing you, and I’m respecting that. You can’t be mad ’cause I’m doing me too. And I’m not going to continue to be punished for something I did almost two years ago. You’re either going to forgive me or not,” she said defiantly.
Angel sat silently, fuming.
“You
have
to forgive me,” Dylan inched closer to him. Tears choked her throat.
“You
have
to forgive me.” She cupped his cheeks with her hands and made him look at her. “You
have
to forgive me.”
Angel sat helplessly, controlled by her touch.
“Please, you have to forgive me.”
“I gotta go.” He put his hands on top of hers and released them from his face. Feeling short of breath, he jogged down the steps, leaving her standing there hopeless.
Angel hopped in his car and pounded his fist against the steering wheel. He’d thought that being friends with Dylan would be easy, but the more time they shared, the harder it became. Sometimes he wished they’d never crossed the line and become lovers because now, there was no way they could just be friends.
 
 
Angel wasn’t the type to smoke, but if he did, he would’ve rolled up a fatty, turned on The Cool Kids, and zoned out for the rest of the day. The shit in his life was getting more and more complicated by the second. He felt torn, torn between what his heart was screaming and what his mind kept on nagging him to do. His heart ached to be with Dylan. Somehow, she’d implanted herself there, and no matter how hard he tried to remove her, it became clearer that she was irreplaceable.
No other chick could compete with her style or grace. She was magnificent in every way conceivable, but then thoughts of her tryst would appear in his mind and Angel would remember the hollow feeling she’d also left in his heart. He couldn’t risk her putting him through that kind of pain again. And yes, love should outweigh everything, but in life, you had to use common sense too, so for right now, he’d rather tread lightly than dip off into the deep end again.
Angel pulled up to the Four Seasons and sighed. All he wanted was to go inside, take a hot bath and chill, but with Milania on the warpath, that would be damn near impossible. Oddly enough, she hadn’t even called his phone once. Angel figured she was just biding her time and stacking evidence against him to build her case. After valeting his car and saying what’s up to the front desk clerk, Angel boarded the elevator. He stepped off the elevator, put his door key inside the lock, and prepared himself for the fight of the century.
To his surprise, Milania wasn’t standing there in attack mode. Instead, he found her walking past the hallway, drying her hair with a towel. She’d just gotten out of the shower and was dressed in a big fluffy cotton robe. Little did Angel know but Milania had just gotten home too.
“What’s up?” Angel said, placing his key, wallet, and phone down on the stand next to the door.
“Hey.” She stopped and shook her hair so it would fall down her back.
“How long you been up?”
“Not long.” She looked at him somberly. “Can I just say something to you?”
“You already did,” he joked.
“Seriously,” Milania licked her lips nervously.
“Go ahead.”
“I’m sorry for the way I acted yesterday. I was way out of line with the stuff that I said. I was just hurt and upset ’cause I feel like it’s you, Dylan, and the baby, and somewhere in all of that, I’m tryin’ to fit in, but I can’t and it’s hard feeling like the oddball out. But, baby, I love you, and I wanna see us work but you have to meet me halfway or else we’re not gonna make it.”
Angel was conflicted. The words Milania spewed at him the day before still burned to the core. He couldn’t see himself marrying a woman who felt that way about his child. But then again, maybe it was some heat-of-the-moment-type shit. He wasn’t sure. All he knew for sure was that he was drowning. Every day he was responsible for somebody’s feelings or lack of support. He wanted to appease both Milania and Dylan, but the game of tug-of-war was becoming too much, and sooner or later, Angel was sure to break. But for the sake of keeping down confusion, Angel surrendered his white flag.
“I feel everything you sayin’. I’m sorry for not taking your feelings into consideration.” He kissed Milania on the lips. “I should’ve been more understanding.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to me.” She kissed him back sweetly.
“But if you ever say some shit like that to me again . . . it’s a wrap,” Angel said as serious as a heartache.
“Okay,” Milania replied.
“Yo’, I’m tired as fuck. I’m gettin’ ready to take a shower and lay back for a minute.” Angel began to peel off his jacket and shirt.
“Actually, we have to meet with the party planner for the engagement party today, so I’ma need you to get dressed.” she said.

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