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Camille frowned. “Wait a minute! Why can’t you come and get him tonight?” she asked. “How long are you planning to be out tonight?”

“Well . . . all night. I’ll probably go home with Baron, Camille.”

Camille shook her head. Her sister was something else. Camille was tempted to warn Misa that Baron was a notorious playboy and that she shouldn’t put her heart into him. But the last thing she wanted was to put a damper on her sister’s joy. “Fine. But don’t make me late for my yoga class like you did last time. Pick him up
early
, Misa. I’m not playing!”

“Thank youuuuu!” Misa sang. She hung up, thrilled that she had the night to herself once again.

Camille, meanwhile, was wondering how she always managed to get suckered into shit like this. She finished making dinner and headed out to get Shane. In the car on her way to the babysitter’s house, Camille thought about her life. She felt so unappreciated—not just by Misa, but by Frankie as well. From the outside they looked like a perfect family. But behind closed doors, things were anything but perfect.

She picked her nephew up and headed home, stopping to get a few things at the supermarket. By the time she pulled her car into the driveway it was after seven
P.M
. She walked into the house and found Steven sitting on the couch watching television.

“Hey, Shane!” Steven smiled at the kid.

“Hi.” Shane shyly hid behind his aunt.

Camille was instantly annoyed. “Something wrong with the TV in the rental unit?” she asked.

“Nah,” Steven said, his eyes droopy from getting high. “I just wanted to watch the plasma.” He knew that Camille was sick of him being there, and Steven didn’t give a fuck.
His brother was in charge, not her. As if on cue, Frankie came in through the back door and frowned when he saw Shane standing behind Camille.

“Hey,” he said, walking in and giving Camille a kiss. “You’re watching Shane
again
?”

Camille could hear the annoyance in her husband’s voice and tried to ignore it. She was tempted to remind Frankie that Shane was there from time to time but Steven was there
all
the time. She decided against it.

Innocently unaware of his uncle’s unwelcoming tone, Shane smiled when he saw Frankie. “Hi, Uncle Frankie.”

Frankie gave the little rugrat a pound and looked at his wife for her explanation.

“Misa had to work late, so I’m keeping him tonight,” she lied.

Frankie nodded, but said nothing as he headed to the kitchen. Camille followed. He took a Heineken out of the fridge and opened the drawer in search of the bottle opener. “You might as well take custody of your nephew, Camille. Misa never has her own kid.”

Camille looked at Frankie. “It’s not that bad. Misa’s young and trying to have fun, that’s all.” She felt sometimes that Frankie became annoyed whenever he saw the kid enjoying the luxuries in their home. If Shane was playing video games, Frankie felt that he should be doing chores of some sort. If Shane was watching TV in the living room on the high-definition flat-screen plasma, Frankie tried to get him to watch the nineteen-inch TV in the spare bedroom instead. Meanwhile, Frankie seemed to have no problem with Steven’s grown ass enjoying the same luxuries. Camille noticed his behavior, but did her best to appease her
husband in order to keep the peace. Maybe he was sick of seeing Misa walk all over her, Camille reasoned. Maybe Frankie was so concerned about her well-being that he didn’t notice his own brother’s freeloading.

“I’m going to the Knicks game tonight. They play the Cavaliers and I got money on this game.” He walked back into the living room, leaving Camille standing alone. She raised an eyebrow. More and more, Frankie had “money on this game” or “money on this fight.” His gambling had started out harmlessly, but lately, he was out gambling every night, if what he told her was true. Not wanting to rock the boat, Camille didn’t call Frankie out.

More than anything, she wanted peace in her household. She wanted everyone to coexist with the least amount of conflict possible. But that was beginning to feel like wishful thinking. Camille was playing referee between her husband and her nephew, tolerating an unwanted tenant in her home, and being taken advantage of by her younger sister. And she was almost single-handedly supporting her mother since Misa so seldom had any extra money to contribute toward their mom’s living expenses. Camille felt like she was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

She went upstairs and got Shane situated in front of the TV in one of the spare bedrooms. While he watched a DVD featuring Piggley Winks, Camille went to her room and found Frankie dressing to go out. She thought about asking him to stay. She was lonely, and no matter how beautiful their home was, it wasn’t the same without Frankie being there with her. She sometimes felt that Frankie worked so hard while she was the only one who got to enjoy it. But Camille decided not to say anything. She didn’t want to set
him off again. Instead, she poured herself a shot of Patrón—a nightly ritual these days—and watched her husband walk out the door.

Misa took a
long, hot shower and spritzed on her favorite perfume. She did her hair and makeup and stepped into a black Norma Kamali dress she’d borrowed from Camille. Tonight, she was hitting the town on the arm of Baron Nobles, and she was eager to really let her hair down. They were going to a show at B.B. King’s—a popular nightclub in Times Square where music acts performed in a cozy and intimate setting. It was a birthday celebration for one of Baron’s friends, and she was honored that he had chosen her to accompany him.

Misa felt better than ever. She’d gotten her hair and nails done, plus a pedicure and eyebrow wax for good measure. She was treating herself well these days as a new divorcée. And having a sister like Camille, who could never say no and mean it, was an asset at a time like this. Misa had her sister’s money at her disposal plus the luxury of a great babysitter. What could be better than that?

Not that Misa didn’t love her son. Shane was the best son a mother could hope for. He was adorable, well mannered, and pretty laid-back for a three-year-old. Misa adored Shane, but was finally getting the chance to live the free-spirited lifestyle she’d forfeited when she became a wife and mother at such a young age. She was grateful for and perhaps a bit jealous of Camille. Camille had no children to weigh her down, and a life of lavish spending and big pimping, courtesy of her role as Frankie B’s wife. If Misa had been lucky enough to stumble into a life like the one her sister enjoyed—a life that was child-free and glamorous—she
would have been partying, traveling, and living it up! But not Camille. She was content to sit at home and look like a porcelain doll as she waited for her beloved husband to return home to her each night. Shit, it was only right that Camille babysit, Misa believed. What else did she have to occupy her time?

As she climbed behind the wheel of her brand-new Camry (a pity present from her sister and Frankie B after her rough divorce), Misa thought about her ex-husband, Louis. What a fuckin’ loser. Five years she’d spent with him, and they’d never had a car—let alone a Maybach, like Baron had. Never had their bills been paid on time as Louis struggled to make ends meet. Misa had never wanted to work. She didn’t feel she should ever have to. Camille never did. Misa wanted to live that same type of life, and Louis had been fine with that. After all, the last thing he wanted was Misa squeezing her juicy ass in some business suit and setting off to meet some man who made more money than him. He also didn’t want
her
to make more money than him. He was happy with her decision to be a stay-at-home mom and care for their son. But, as it turned out,
he’d
been the one to upgrade, leaving Misa and their son to move in with a woman he met at work. She was a senior executive at a brokerage firm and he was the security guard who worked in the building lobby. When their flirtation turned physical, sparks flew. And it wasn’t long before Misa and Shane got pushed to the background as Louis enjoyed lavish vacations and luxury cars for the first time in his sorry life. He was so caught up in the unexpected invitation to his mistress’s lifestyle that he forgot all about the vows he’d taken as a husband and his responsibilities as a father.

Meanwhile, Misa sank into a deep depression. She hadn’t
counted on being abandoned. She had always expected her marriage to work, and when it didn’t, she fell apart. Camille had been there for her, bringing over ice cream and chick flicks and comforting her sister through the storm. And Misa appreciated and loved her sister more because of that. She had leaned on Camille, and today she was stronger than ever.

Now that Misa was over that loser, she noticed that the difference between her miserable marriage and her sister’s happy one was money. Money was what helped Camille turn the other way and pretend to be sleeping when Frankie B crept in late at night. It was what kept her wearing designer labels and pricey baubles when everyone else was complaining about their tight budgets. Misa assumed that money was what kept NBA and NFL wives happy in their marriages. Money, power, million-dollar mansions. That’s what made the difference between a nagging wife—which Misa had sadly become to Louis before they parted ways—and one who knew that her sole job was to be arm candy and to tend to the home and the children. Misa wanted that—the glitz and the glamour. And she figured she’d spend as much time chasing money-makers like Baron as she could until she landed a gold mine just like her sister had.

Misa pulled up in front of Baron’s home and parked her car. She called him on her cell phone and told him that she was outside. Then she checked her makeup in the mirror one last time. He emerged from the house and trotted down the stairs, wearing a pair of True Religion jeans, a white button up, and a dark blue blazer. She noticed the crisp white Nikes on his feet and the sparkling diamonds in his watch and smiled. He had a fresh haircut, and when he got close, she could smell his intoxicating cologne. Misa was falling hard. Baron greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and then led the
way to his car. Misa locked her own car, which she would retrieve after their night on the town, and they headed for Manhattan. She was through mourning the promises that she and Louis had made to stay together till death parted them. Instead, she was making her own promises to herself. Never again would she settle for less or put her heart before her head. From now on she was going for the money. Happiness would surely follow.

Toya’s shoes clicked on the pavement as she trotted toward her brownstone with bags from Lord & Taylor in hand. She took her keys out of her pocket and unlocked her front door. Once inside, she turned to lock her screen door and saw a figure coming toward her through her yard. She quickly locked it, then reached behind the sofa cushion for the gat she kept on hand just in case of shit like this. She waited for the stranger to come closer in the dark.

Knowing her as well as he did, Nate knew what she had been scurrying for and smiled proudly. He had taught her well. “You don’t need that, Latoya,” he said, standing at a safe distance just in case she started firing.

She cocked the gun anyway. She could hear the smirk in his voice and it only infuriated her more. Her nine-millimeter gripped tightly in her hand, she was tempted to kill him and say it was an accident. Instead, she waited to see what he would say or do next. The nerve of this bastard to show up at her house! How had he found her? And did he really think she would hesitate to shoot him for
all the times in the past when she hadn’t had the means to do it?

“Calm down and let me talk to you, baby. That’s the only reason I came over here. I just wanna talk to you about some things.”

“I don’t have shit to say to you. And I don’t want to hear shit you have to say. So turn around and get the fuck away from here. Don’t ever come back here again.” She shook her head in fury, fighting the tears that threatened to burst forth. “You’re dead to me, and if you ever come back here, I’ll kill you!”

Nate waited. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. Perhaps to see if she would really do it. He didn’t even care if she did it at this point. Or maybe he was waiting to see if she’d change her mind, unlock the door, and give him a chance to speak his piece. After all, she owed him that much. Despite the fact that their relationship had always been tumultuous, he did love her. More than he had ever loved anyone else in his lifetime. Sometimes he loved her too hard, he reasoned. And if she could just get that through her head, maybe she could give him one more chance.

“
Ten seconds, muthafucka, and you better be the fuck outta here!
” Toya’s voice bellowed enough to convince Nate that tonight was not the night to try and persuade her. He turned and walked swiftly away, disappearing into the night just as suddenly as he’d appeared.

Toya locked her doors and sat down on the couch with her gun still in her hand. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the memories of what she’d endured with him for so long. Finally, she opened her eyes and slowly looked down
at the gun in her hands, wishing she had done them both a favor and killed his bitch ass.

“You having fun?”
Baron asked, nudging Misa playfully.

She was. They were waiting along with about six or seven of Baron’s friends and their dates for the rapper Common to take the stage. Drinks were flowing, and they were all laughing and having a good time. Misa was enjoying being part of Baron’s inner circle and was satisfied that she looked better than all the other bitches in attendance. Baron was the center of attention, and Misa felt like the queen bee. They had arrived after everyone else, making a grand entrance just as she’d hoped. And now they were seated at a table filled with bottles and food, and the mood was festive. They were celebrating the birthday of Tremaine—a member of the Nobles crew whom Misa had seen at many of their functions. Now that she was with Baron, she felt that she had been given access to a very exclusive club, and she couldn’t imagine why Camille chose to be a homebody when she could be living like this on a regular basis.