Snapped (3 page)

Because she was so young and had climbed the ladder to success so rapidly, Dominique had little time to form new friendships. She had resigned herself to hanging out with the same girls she’d been friends with since grade school—girls who were stuck in dead-end jobs and shitty relationships. They envied Dominique, who rubbed elbows with all the hottest stars and traveled to exotic locations constantly. When she met Toya—a successful real estate broker who lived life to the fullest—Dominique had found her first friend who had success equivalent to hers. It felt good to be able to eat dinner at the finest New York City restaurants with a girlfriend who could also afford it due to her own
hard work and perseverance. Hanging out with Toya was one of the few occasions when Dominique neither had to hide nor be apologetic for the wealth she had amassed over the years.

“But Toya underestimated me at first,” Dominique said, sipping her drink once again.

Toya looked confused. “I did not.”

“Yes, you did.” Dominique laughed and looked at Camille. “After I closed on my house, Toya and I agreed to keep in touch since we hit it off so well. So one Friday night I had tickets to a Mary J. Blige concert at the Garden.”

“Oh, damn!” Toya began to laugh as she realized which story Dominique was about to tell.

Dominique laughed, too, and Camille was more eager than ever to hear the rest.

“So I invited Toya. I told her that I had two tickets—floor seats—and I had no one to go with. But Toya already had a ticket to the show that night. I suggested that she sell her ticket and take my spare one so that we could enjoy the show together. And what did you say?” Dominique asked, looking at Toya, smiling.

Toya shook her head, laughing. “I said, ‘Excuse me? My seats are in the thirteenth row. Where are
yours
?’ ” She spoke in the same stuck-up tone of voice she’d used that night before the concert.

Dominique nodded. “So I explained that I hadn’t picked my tickets up from my coworker yet, so I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that he promised me they were excellent seats.”

Toya sighed. “So I declined.” She stirred her drink, then shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “Uh-uh, I wasn’t giving up my row-thirteen seats for some unknown section just to sit next to Dominique.”

Dominique laughed. “See how she is?”

Camille laughed, too. “I know exactly how Toya is. She hasn’t changed a bit since high school.”

They all chuckled and Dominique finished the story. “So we agreed to meet for drinks before the show. I gave my spare ticket to a friend of mine and we all met at a T.G.I. Friday’s near the Garden. We had drinks and finger food and then headed to the concert. When we got inside, the usher came over to show us to our seats. He took Toya to her row, then he turned to me and my friend and told us to follow him.”

“I was waiting to see where their seats were, and he started leading them closer and closer to the stage. I was pissed already!” Toya was laughing at the memory.

“We just kept going farther and farther,” Dominique reiterated. “We kept walking, and my friend turned to me and asked what kind of seats I had. I still had no idea. The tickets only said section A, seats seven and eight. We were walking down, closer and closer—till we got to the front row! I could not believe that we were in the first row at a Mary concert at the fuckin’ Garden! Me and my friend started jumping up and down. We were so excited! Then we heard a voice from the thirteenth row yell out—”

“Oh,
hell no
!” Toya finished the sentence for her. All three friends laughed till their stomachs hurt. “I was so mad! These two bitches were sitting front and center and all of a sudden my seat felt like it was all the way up in the fuckin’ balcony. I was heated!” Toya paused to compose herself after so much laughter. “During intermission I went down there to talk to them and I turned my nose up. I said, ‘Ain’t nobody in the front row tonight but hoodrats.’ Dominique’s friend said, ‘We may be hoodrats. But we’re in the front
row!’ I had to watch the whole show with them right at Mary’s feet and me all the way back in row thirteen. I was furious!” Toya chuckled.

Dominique laughed. “Taught her not to underestimate my connections. She should have just snatched up the ticket I offered to her, but no. Miss Thing had to be a diva till the end.”

Camille had tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. Toya had been the same way in high school. She was always bossy, always boisterous, but she was also always the life of the party. As long as she could have a drink in her hand and be snapping her fingers, Toya was happy.

A petite young lady with the baddest haircut on earth approached the table grinning. “This table is having too much fun,” she said.

Camille looked at the young woman and smiled. “Toya, remember her?” Toya looked confused. Camille laughed. “Dominique, this is my little sister, Misa.”

Toya’s smile broadened. “Oh, my goodness, I haven’t seen you in years! You’re gorgeous!” she yelled. Toya could see the resemblance between the sisters and felt silly for not guessing who this was. Both of them shared smooth, flawless, dark chocolate skin, striking eyes, and full lips. But Misa was clearly younger and about fifteen pounds lighter than Camille. “Misa, sit down and join us.” Toya remembered her as a nappy-headed little brat who tagged along with Camille every once in a while in their teenage years. Now she was very much a young lady—at least by the looks of it.

Misa smiled, liking her sister’s friend already. Compliments were a surefire way to get on Misa’s good side. She didn’t remember Toya, but it seemed that she was a friend of
Camille’s from way back. Already she was more interesting than any of the desperate housewives in Camille’s usual circle of friends. Misa and Camille were native Staten Islanders who grew up in the borough’s gritty Stapleton projects. Their mother raised them as a single parent on welfare, and their upbringing had been rough. Those days were long gone now that Camille was married to one of the most powerful men on the streets of New York. Now their mother lived in a split-level home on Long Island that Camille paid for. Misa contributed to their mother’s living expenses, but not much. She figured that Camille could afford to do it all, so why should she do more than necessary? But while Misa still maintained friendships with the girls she’d grown up with in the projects, Camille’s friends these days were very far removed from the life they’d once lived. Toya was a breath of fresh air to Misa. “Don’t mind if I do,” she said, pulling up a chair and sitting beside Toya.

“So you’re what . . . twenty-one or twenty-two?” Toya guessed, noticing that Misa had a flair for fashion. Tonight Camille was reserved in a black sheath dress, while her edgier sister wore patterned black leggings with a red minidress and heels.

Misa shook her head. “I’m twenty-four. Freshly divorced and ready to take over the world!”

Camille rolled her eyes as Toya slapped her sister a high five.
“Take over the world.”
Camille would have been happy if Misa just took over paying her own car note!

“You’re on the right track,” Toya observed, building her up before tearing her down again. “But you’re only twenty-four. And you’re fierce! Why would you get married so young in the first place?”

Camille frowned. She felt that Misa had let a good guy
get away. Marriage and children were supposed to be sacred things . . . gifts. “I don’t think age matters.”

“Of course you don’t! You got married early and it worked for you.” Toya managed to bite her tongue but was fiending to point out that her marriage might not be working out as well as she thought, with Gillian in the picture. She decided not to rub it in Camille’s face on her birthday. “But most of the young ladies in Misa’s age group aren’t ready for marriage and kids, and neither are the
boys
they’re marrying.”

Misa had to agree. “That’s true. You live and you learn. I was looking for a fairy tale and it didn’t work out. I got pregnant with my son, and his father asked me to marry him. I wanted to have the whole family for my son—father, mother, child, white picket fence. All that bullshit.” Misa poured herself a glass of the champagne sitting on the table.

Dominique leaned in Misa’s direction. “I had my daughter when I was young, too. You can still be a success story even though you’re a single parent. This is only the beginning.”

Misa clinked glasses with Dominique. “My aunt told me that women marry for love the first time, and the second time it’s for the money. That’s my way of thinking these days. But I’m in no rush. I’m having fun being single!” Misa was determined to come back to the single life, better than ever.

“I like you,” Toya said, relieved that at least Camille’s sister seemed to have some hope. Toya didn’t believe in soul mates, happily ever after, or any of that bullshit. In her mind, that nonsense didn’t exist. The sooner women figured that out, the better off they’d be.

“Thanks,” Misa said, smiling.

Dominique snapped her fingers to the beat of the music. “Did your brother-in-law ask you to help him plan this party?” she asked Misa. Dominique was having a blast!

Misa shook her head. “Frankie did all this on his own. If I would’ve planned it, the budget would’ve been a lot smaller!”

Camille and Misa shared a laugh at that one. But deep inside, Camille knew that her sister meant that sincerely.

“Well, he sure pulled out all the stops,” Dominique observed. “All this food, the deejay is excellent, we got Hennessy, Patrón, Absolut, Jack Daniel’s . . . chicken! What more could black people ask for?”

Misa laughed. It was about time Camille found some real friends! She liked Toya’s bold personality and Dominique’s sense of humor. She crossed her legs and sipped her drink. Then she nudged her sister playfully. “Camille, introduce me to some of Frankie’s friends,” she coaxed. “There’s some ballers in here tonight.”

Camille rolled her eyes, chuckling slightly. “Frankie’s friends are all married or living with somebody. They’re family men.”

“And?” Misa asked. “What’s your point?”

“Those be the worst ones, honey,” Toya cosigned, looking pointedly at Camille.

Dominique was really feeling tipsy now. She looked around the room at all the people and spotted a tall, slender, gorgeous man with a perfectly groomed goatee and the sexiest green eyes she’d ever seen. He seemed to command the attention of everyone around him, and she was in awe.

“Who is
that
?” she asked Camille, discreetly pointing in the mystery man’s direction.

Misa smiled, licked her lips. “That’s Baron, girl.”

Camille smiled, too, because he
was
a beautiful man.
“That’s Gillian’s half brother, Baron Nobles. He works with Frankie, too. He’s engaged to a sweet young lady named Angie.”

“
Really?
” Toya was intrigued.

Camille nodded. “Baron and Gillian have the same father but different mothers. Baron’s mother is a beautiful black woman. She’s so regal, just a really cultured Southern woman. Very Diahann Carroll. She was Nobles’s first wife and she had divorced him years before he got sick.”

“Sick?” Dominique interrupted.

“He’s in a wheelchair. Multiple sclerosis, or something like that. He was only diagnosed within the past year or so. But he remarried right after he divorced Baron’s mother. Gillian’s mother is a Cuban woman. I don’t know much about her, except that she’s still married to Doug Nobles.”

Dominique was hypnotized by how handsome Baron was. He had to be about six-three, with broad shoulders and an amazing smile. He had mocha-colored flawless skin, the diamond watch on his wrist only making him glow even more. Best of all, he had a commanding presence that just screamed “swagger.” Dominique was impressed.

“He’s so sexy,” she said, finally prying her eyes away from him.

Toya smiled. “Excellent! Go over there and invite him back to your place. Let him fuck you all night long. That way you can forget about the fucking convict once and for all!”

Dominique shook her head. “I’m not cheating on Jamel, no matter how fine Baron is.”

Toya frowned. “Dumb! Just
so
dumb!”

Misa smiled. “Jamel is your man, I assume.”

Dominique nodded. “Yes, he is. He’s out of town for a little while—”

“The bastard is locked up. He’s in jail for selling drugs.” Toya wasn’t going to let Dominique get away with saying her so-called man was just “out of town.”

Camille seemed surprised, and Misa laughed. Dominique was annoyed.

“Don’t you think I would have told them that myself if I wanted them to know, Toya?” Dominique demanded. She had just met Camille and Misa and didn’t want them to make up their minds about the type of people she and Jamel were based on Toya’s already biased opinions.

Toya shrugged. “Oh, please! We done got all up in Camille’s business tonight.” Camille chuckled in agreement. “We all know each other now. Just tell it like it is. That loser is locked up. He’s going to come home and be jobless, broke, unmotivated, and he’s going to disappoint you. Meanwhile, you’re out here being faithful to that
loser
, when you’re only thirty years old with a shitload of men at your beck and call.” Toya looked Dominique in the eye as if challenging her to deny any of her claims.

Camille intervened. “Is this guy your child’s father?”

“No,” both Toya and Dominique answered.

Camille was trying to put a positive spin on the situation, but she came up empty. “Well, make sure he’s worth your time if you decide to put your life on hold for him.”

Toya shook her head. “Ain’t no man worth that!”

Frankie and Baron walked by their table and greeted the ladies as they made their rounds. Misa and Dominique looked like they were falling under Baron’s spell as he flashed them his megawatt smile. Frankie caressed his wife’s cheek and smiled at her. He was happy to see that she was enjoying herself. After all, he owed it to Camille. This party was the least he could do to ensure that she knew she was
appreciated. He stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders as he made small talk with her friends. Toya noticed, but was still convinced that he was caressing Gillian as well. She was impressed, though, by the quality of the lavish birthday celebration he had surprised Camille with. It was clear that Frankie loved Camille, and that he threw one hell of a party. And for that reason, she was happy for her friend.