Playing Hard To Get (19 page)

Topping Ingredients
:

1 tsp. each almond, lemon, vanilla, coconut, and rum extract

1 cup sugar

½ cup water

Directions
:

Combine in a saucepan and bring to a boil for 2 minutes. Make sure cake is cool; then, pour ½ mixture over cake, wait 10 minutes, and turn cake out of pan onto a plate. Pour remaining mixture over cake.



A thin and uncomfortable white leather couch sitting atop a red shag carpet was the only piece of recognizable living room furniture in Tasha’s old bachelorette pad in Tribeca. The chairs were elongated shoes Tasha had styled in honor of her favo MoBos
¹⁶
and the tables, glass and close to the floor, looked like frosted ice cubes. White koi fish, as thick as bass, played in a pool beneath the table in front of the couch.

“I just can’t believe you kept this place for this long,” Tamia shouted to Tasha as Toni banged at the fish through the tabletop. She left Tiara at home rapping with Lionel.

“Every girl needs a quick exit,” Tasha answered from the only bedroom in the tiny fifth-floor apartment.

Tamia looked at Troy, who was sitting beside her on the couch, and frowned.

“From your husband?” Troy asked.

Tasha came out of the room wearing a pair of MoBos she hadn’t seen in the eight years since Lionel had refused to let her leave his SoHo loft and proposed marriage as the new friends lay naked in bed eating Froot Loops and watching reruns of
Law & Order
.

“Pack light and always have a Plan B,” Tasha said after explaining that marrying a ballplayer was risky and while she knew Lionel loved her, sometimes love isn’t enough to keep a millionaire connected to one woman for a lifetime.

“So you come here to water the plants?” Troy said, snatching a leaf Toni pulled from a little bonsai tree on the table.

“Of course not. I hire people to do that. Someone comes to water the plants, clean the linen, feed the fish, and adjust the temperature.”

“I have to be the one to bring some reason to this madness,” Tamia started. “I can’t believe you’ve been paying rent for this apartment for the last eight years—and you didn’t tell anyone. Not even us.” She looked at an Andy Warhol–style series of rainbow fauves of Tasha in her twenties and a bottle of Dom on the table beside the kitchenette. “This place is like an homage to our twenties. A museum.”

“I know,” Tasha said. “It’s cool.”

“No, I didn’t mean that in a good way. It’s wrong. You can’t move your family here.”

Toni looked at her mother.

“Well, we’re not gonna live here. Not for long.” Tasha pulled a hot pink chinchilla jacket she’d worn to a Foxy Brown party from the closet. “Just until we find another place.”

“All four of you?” Troy asked.

“It’s not that small, ladies. Not for Tribeca. Look, you have to trust me. When I was in the bathroom with Tamia I realized that this is just what we need as a family to keep it interesting. Jersey is boring. Jersey is country. Jersey is like…like a pasture where rich people go to die. New York keeps you young. It keeps you hot. It keeps you sexy.” Tasha had the coat on now and she danced around to Foxy Brown music in her head.

“I don’t think babies are supposed to be sexy,” Troy said, trying unsuccessfully to hand Toni over to Tasha. “Did you go to the bathroom on yourself?” She looked at the little girl as she patted her soggy diaper. Toni smiled.

“Oh, God.” Tasha grimaced. “Someone change her.”



An hour later, after Troy left to meet with the Virtuous Women uptown, Tamia, Tasha, and Toni went down to Chinatown for a steamer of pork dumplings at Joe’s Ginger. Though Tamia wanted to continue to debate Tasha about her ridiculous move back into the city, she knew better than to push her friend. She and Troy had seen their prying in Tasha’s life blow up in their innocent faces so many times that they’d learned to simply ask Tasha the important questions and move on. Tasha was born stubborn and made self-centered, and no amount of meddling was going to change that. Besides, this was the one time when Tamia actually thought her wild friend had a point. While there were lots of positives to leaving the city, what was left behind turned to negatives she knew made her friend lonely and bored. With her friends far away and her man, at times, farther away, the big house and babies were bound to drive Tasha crazy after a while. Now, here was crazy in front of her, trying to teach a two-year-old to use chopsticks.

“Do you know about the Afrocentric community?” Tamia asked, grabbing a chopstick from Toni before she jabbed her mother in the eye.

“The what? Is that one of those new neighborhoods in downtown Brooklyn? You know I’m not moving my babies there.”

“No, crazy.” Tamia laughed and imagined what kind of tirade Malik would go on had he heard her friend’s response. He’d probably send her a whole box of books. “I said ‘Afrocentric,’ as in African-centered culture and tradition, history…”

Tasha looked at Tamia blankly.

“You know…the stuff we learned in school…in our history class. I know you know…because we took that class together.”

Tasha was still looking.

“Oh yeah,” she finally said, but her eyes were still blank. “I remember.”

“No, you don’t. You’re lying.” Flabbergasted, Tamia laughed again.

“Okay, I don’t. Whatever.” Tasha shrugged her shoulders and broke up a noodle for Toni. “Why? Why are you asking me this? And is there a quiz afterward? Because I paid for my grade in that class…. I’m just gonna be honest.”

“No, Tash. There’s no quiz. I was just thinking about this case I’m working on. Well, I guess it’s not just a case. I’ve become kind of involved in this place and I was thinking maybe—”

As Tamia said much about nothing and it seemed she was never getting to a point, Toni and Tasha looked at her in the way friends look at other friends who are newly in love and thus stuck in the labyrinth of their own desires. This, of course, was exactly what the mother and daughter thought they were looking at.

“I’m sorry,” Tasha interrupted. “Is there a man involved in this? Because you just look like…there’s a man involved.”

“No,” Tamia lied. “Look, I have to get out of here. I need to stop by the office on my way home.”

“Work, work, and work,” Tasha said.

“A sister has to work hard for the money.” Tamia slid a twenty onto the table and signaled for the waitress, saying, “I need a box.”

“Keep the twenty and leave the dumplings,” Tasha said, pulling Tamia’s bowl toward her.

“You sure have an appetite,” Tamia said. “What about your ever-going Halle Berry plan?”
¹⁷

“That’s on hold right now,” Tasha said quickly, looking away from Tamia.

“Cool. I love you two,” Tamia said before kissing Tasha and then Toni goodbye and walking out of the dark restaurant.

“And we love you back,” Tasha said. She turned to Toni and grinned. “And Auntie Tamia will have to love less of us after Mommy’s operation. Won’t she, Toni?”

Toni, seemingly indifferent to her mother’s plans, reached for a piece of noodle on her plate and stuffed it into her mouth.

“Much less,” Tasha confirmed for herself. “That’s what full-body liposuction is all about…much less.” She looked at Toni. “Now let Mommy get one of her last good meals in before Dr. Miller makes her all perfect again. Your daddy is gonna love this surprise.”



The BAP Declaration of Independence

We, the Black American Princesses of the universe, do hereby hold these truths to be self-evident—that black women are created to be fabulous, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable powers, that among these are intelligence, strength, beauty, and courage.

Henceforth, each sovereign BAP shall remain in charge of her own destiny, in tune with her true spirit, and empowered by her God-given strength.

She shall honor her Declaration of Independence by following these basic rules:

1. Always know the way home and have a way to get there.

2. Never let anyone extract you from the love and support of your family and friends.

3. Have a passport and a nice set of luggage.

4. Have a relationship with your Creator; when all else fails you, that’s what will keep you alive.

5. Have secret “get up and go” cash that will last a year; make sure there’s enough to support your children.

6. Protect and honor your mother at all costs.

7. If you’re sick, see a doctor; worry about the bill later.

8. Learn how to do a breast exam.

9. Use condoms—always.

10. Get your education; your grandmother was right.

11. Have at least one girlfriend who knows your secrets.

12. Don’t settle for seconds. He’s not going to leave her.

13. If he hits you, leave and never return.

14. If you hit him, leave and get some help.

15. Even if you don’t own a gun, know how to use one.

16. Pack light and never stay where you’re not wanted.

17. If he has bad credit, don’t let him use yours.

18. Get a professional massage at a real spa.

19. If you need therapy, go and keep going.

20. Buy an expensive candle and burn it.

21. Write down your master plan.

22. Have a great resume, amazing cover letter, and three wonderful references.

23. Have a savings account.

24.
Plan
to retire, or you won’t.

25. Know how to pleasure yourself—yes, in bed.

26. Let it all go.

27. Establish friendships with a doctor, lawyer, and politician.

28. Get and cherish a mentor.

29. Be nice to your hair; it’s beautiful the way it is.

30. Write a kind letter to yourself, about yourself, and believe every good word.



After successfully conducting her third meeting of the Virtuous Women, Troy was finding her bearings. Instead of taking over everything and remaining in charge of most of the club like Myrtle did, she confided in the sisters that she knew she had weaknesses and couldn’t do it all on her own. While a few sisters said it was poor taste for a First Lady to admit she needed help, others found Troy’s style refreshing and provided a hand when and where needed. They took turns leading prayer, allowed others to make suggestions about events, and put all talk about the incubus and succubus on hold. The biggest achievement the women made was a formal recommendation to the pastor that the president of their organization be allowed to sit on the altar on the fifth Sundays when the mass women’s choir sang. They thought it was a good petition, as it didn’t require too much shifting, at first.

“Do you want me to wait outside?” Kiona asked, walking out of the church library with Troy. After the meeting, Troy invited Kiona to a special treat in the city to thank her for her support.

“Sure, I just need to hand over the petition to Pastor Hall!” Troy said, holding the paper, which carried the signatures of all of the organization’s members.

“You mean your boo?”

Kiona and Troy embraced as they chuckled.

“He’s that too….”

Troy left Kiona and walked to Kyle’s office, where she was sure he was either editing his sermon for an upcoming guest visit to a church in Staten Island or playing computer solitaire, which he did from time to time to clear his head. While they hadn’t talked much about her new position, she knew he’d gotten lots of compliments from the church and sometimes she saw him walking very slowly past the open door of the library where the Virtuous Women met. She felt him reaching to hold her hand more than once as they stood in line after service to receive members and visitors, and once or twice, he’d turned to her and said, “This is my First Lady. She leads the top women’s organization at the church.”

Troy winked at Saptosa, Kyle’s assistant, as she made her way past her desk.

“Oh, First Lady!” Saptosa said. “I was hoping you’d come by.”

“Well…I’m happy you’re happy.” Troy smiled, noticing that Saptosa seemed a bit too elated to see her. It was far from uncommon for her to visit Kyle’s office before she left for the day. And each time she did this, she saw Saptosa’s friendly, yet busy smile. Something was very different.

“Is he in?”

“He sure is. Go right on in.”



Malik was placing a daisy in the fold of Tamia’s ear. Though she was busy saying how crazy he was for doing it, complaining that the stem was wet, she really liked the attention and how the activity itself forced Malik to lock his eyes on her face. In most of their conversations he’d been the militant man, the book reader, the cultural critic, but now, as they sat on the patio of a coffee shop, going over the specifics of his work with the Freedom Project, he was softening in a way that made her unintentionally lean into him.

“You should wear that in your hair for the rest of the day,” Malik said.

“A daisy? In my hair? To the office? Are you kidding me?” Tamia laughed. “I’m on company time, and if I want to remain on company time, it would be best if I don’t convince my employers that I’m crazy.”