Authors: Keisha Ervin

Material Girl (13 page)

BOOK: Material Girl

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Unable to do anything else with herself, Dylan swiftly combed through her hair with her fingers and tucked it behind her ears as the kids and Angel entered the kitchen.

“Heeeeeeeeey!” She waved her hand.

“Hey, Auntie.” The twins and Kyrese hugged her tight.

“Where y’all going dressed like ninjas?”

“Karate practice,” Kyrese replied.

“Oh, ’cause I was gettin’ ready to say Kung Fu chic is not in.”

“So, the kids the only people you see?” Angel leaned his shoulder against the wall.

Of course I see yo’ big fine ass. Got me over here cummin’ on myself,
she thought, admiring the white V-neck T-shirt, jeans, and six-inch wheat-colored Tims he wore. The only jewelry he rocked was a thin gold chain with a straight razor pendant on it, and a Nooka watch.

“Cómo estás?”
she joked in a deep voice, mimicking Wendy Williams.

You are such a dork,
she thought. Angel couldn’t help but laugh at her silliness.

“Come on, y’all. We gotta go.” Billie raced around the island, grabbing the snacks and her purse. “Oh, I forgot. The kids’ books are due today at the library. Dylan, on your way home can you drop them off and pick out the ones that I have on this list?”

“Sure. It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

“Thanks, hon.” Billie kissed her on the cheek. “And throw that mess away,” she said, referring to the magazines. “Angel, I’ll see you later.” She closed the door behind her.

“Well, I guess I’ll be heading out then.” Dylan got up.

“You mind if I go wit’ you?” Angel asked.

“I don’t care. It’s a free country.”

“Let me go grab my keys real quick.” He turned to go back up the steps, unaware that he garnered the kind of beauty that set him apart from the rest of the mere mortals of the world.

After a five-minute ride in Angel’s Aston Martin DBS Coupe, Dylan and Angel roamed the aisles of the children’s section at the St. Louis City Main Library. Dylan didn’t frequent there often, but when she did, she always marveled at the stained glass windows and stenciled ceilings. So far, she and Angel had found every book on Billie’s book list but one. Angel was so close behind her as they walked that she could feel his warm breath on the nape of her neck. The sensation soothed her and made her nipples sprout like buds.

“So, how long are you gonna be in town?” she asked timidly.

It was the first time in years that she and Angel had been left alone with one another.

“Until August. After that I gotta start training.”

“What made you come home anyway?”

“You.”

“Me?” Dylan spun around, astounded. Her back was now facing one of the shelves.

“I had to make sure you were all right.”

“You act like I was on suicide watch,” she joked.

“Nah, I just knew that you were hurt. What ol’ boy did to you was fucked up.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll get over it eventually,” Dylan said, unsure if she really could. “Speaking of boos, how does Miscellaneous feel about you hoppin’ on a plane and leaving her behind?”

“Miliania.” He smirked. “Didn’t have anything to say. She’s not my girl, and she knows that.”

“Well, at least you’re honest with her. Hey.” She thought of an idea. “Since you’re not exclusive with anyone, why don’t I set you up on a blind date?”

“I’m good.” He quickly nixed the idea.

“Why?”

“’Cause it’s honestly a waste of time.”

“Why you say that?”

“You know the whole dating thing—dinner, movie, whatever . . . it’s really not my thing. I always find myself not really that interested, but still I can’t help tellin’ the chick how beautiful she is anyway.”

“Wow, I’m shocked.” Dylan crossed her arms. “You finally dropped the Rico Suave act and said something real.”

“It happens sometimes. You just gotta stay on your toes.”

“Frankly, I’m tired of standing on my tippy toes. I’ve been doing it for the last three years of my life. I think I’m starting to get corns,” she joked.

“Check it. I’m gonna say this once and one time only, so listen closely.” He took her by the arms. “Fuck State.”

“What? So, that’s it?” Dylan looked at him like he was retarded. “Just fuck him? I’m not even allowed to be pissed off.”

“Nah, never that.” He shook his head. “You’re allowed to be pissed off. Any person in their right mind would be. But maybe if you’d relax half a second and stop lookin’ so hard for the right man, then maybe . . . just maybe ... you just might wake up one morning next to the right one.”

“Yeah, ’cause it’s just that simple,” she scoffed. “This is real life we’re talkin’ about, Angel, not a Lifetime movie of the week.”

“I didn’t say it was easy, but you gotta realize that you’re the one in control over the situation.”

“And how is that?”

“’Cause you’re mad smart, and you’re crazy beautiful so now what?”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about? I’m a total airhead.” Dylan laughed.

“Stop talkin’ like that. You’re one of the great ones.”

“One of the great ones, huh?” Dylan smiled. “So, you’re just sayin’ all this to make me feel better, right? ’Cause that’s what people do in situations like this, right?”

“Which is bad why?”

“It’s not bad. I just wanna know do you mean anything that’s coming out of your mouth?” She hoped and prayed to God that he did.

“I don’t just say shit to be saying it. I mean, I do talk a lot of shit, but generally I mean what I say.”

Dylan’s heart fluttered like a butterfly. No man had ever spoken to her that way. They’d told her that she was fine and that she was sexy, but never smart. Dylan didn’t even think she was that intelligent. She would never be the type of chick that wore white and didn’t spill something on it, or didn’t stutter when nervous. Yet with Angel, she felt elegant and surrounded by his embrace.

Face to face they stood, exchanging breaths. An animalistic chemistry filled the air surrounding them. Dylan’s chest heaved up and down in anticipation of a kiss as he placed his hand on the shelf next to her face. This was it, the moment she’d fantasized about for years. Angel came closer, his lips inches away from hers. Unprepared but born ready, Dylan closed her eyes and puckered up her lips; but Angel didn’t kiss her. Instead, he whispered into her ear, “I found the book.”

Umm . . . okay . . . do I crawl into a corner now or later?
she thought.

Opening one of her eyes, Dylan sucked her lips back in and watched as Angel stepped back with the book in his hand.

“Well, that was awkward.” She stood up straight and opened her other eye. “I hope you don’t think that I was . . . you know . . .” she laughed nervously. “Ain’t nobody trippin’ off you, Angel. I mean, you fine and all, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“So, you think I’m fine.” He grinned.

“Man, please.” She waved him off, laughing too.

Dylan was totally unaware that the layers of bullshit she’d built up for years were fading away, revealing who she really was at the core: a shy, insecure woman who just wanted to be loved.

“Let’s go check out these books so I can go home. Wendy Williams is about to come on.”

“If I tell you how I feel, will you keep bringing out the best in me?”

—Sade, “Sweetest Taboo”

Chapter 13

For days, Dylan had tried her best to stay cooped up in her apartment, but Billie wasn’t having it. She knew firsthand how being alone when dealing with a broken heart could lead to depression. She wasn’t about to let her best friend go down that rabbit hole, so she insisted that Dylan spend as much time at her place as possible. So far, the constant company of her best friend, the kids, and Angel seemed to work.

Dylan found herself only crying once or twice a day, versus all day long. Her eating habits even improved. Instead of just drinking champagne and eating crackers, she ate three full meals, as well as a snack. Without Billie, Dylan didn’t know where she would be. No matter the time of day, whether morning, noon, or night, she was there to talk and lend a helping hand. Often, the two found themselves staying up until the crack of dawn, discussing the relationship drama they’d been through and their hopes for the future. Dylan didn’t quite know what her future would hold, but she knew it had to be brighter than her present.

One night, she helped Billie prepare for the museum’s annual gala affair. Billie looked stunning in a one-shoulder canary yellow Carolina Herrera gown with a ruffled detail. Her long hair was swept up into a sleek ponytail, and her makeup was absolute perfection.

“Girl, if you don’t snatch these kids up a new daddy, you better.” Dylan joked, in awe of her appearance.

“Right, ’cause they sho’ need one.” Billie ran her hands down the front of her dress.

“Seriously, Billie, you look so pretty. You gon’ walk up in that muthafucka and shut it doooooown.”

“I hope so.” Billie grinned.

“Yo’.” Angel poked his head into the room. “Your driver’s here.”

“Okay, I’ll be right down. Wish me luck.” She turned to Dylan and crossed her fingers.

“Girl, you’re gonna do fine on your speech. Just remember, take your time and speak from the heart,” Dylan replied as they walked hand in hand down the steps.

“Kyrese, Kaylee, and Kenzie, Mommy’s about to leave!” Billie yelled.

“Mama, can I go, please?” Kaylee begged, running into the foyer.

“No, and we already discussed this. This is a grown-up event.”

“Well,”—Kenzie stood back on one leg and crossed her arms over her chest—“can you at least bring us a bottle of Moët back?”

“No, I cannot, grown ass,” Billie snapped. “Now, y’all be good for Auntie and Uncle Angel.”

“We will, Ma,” Kyrese confirmed. “I got this. If Tia and Tamara here even think about actin’ up, I’ll be sure to give them a boot kick to the face.”

“You put one foot on my babies and I’ma tombstone ya ass myself,” Billie joked, referring to a wrestling move.

“Bet.” Kyrese and Billie shook hands.

“On the real, though, y’all call me if you need me,” Billie said to Angel and Dylan. “These three can be a handful.”

“Will you leave already?” Dylan pushed her out the door.

“Okay, I’m going. Holla!”

“Oh my God.” Angel hung his head and laughed at his sister’s corniness.

“Does anybody still stay holla?” Billie questioned.

“No! Now, good-bye.” Dylan closed the door before she could say another word. “Okay, now, who wants to make cupcakes?”

“Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” The kids jumped up and down.

“All right then. Move it, move it, move it!” Dylan ordered, doing her best impersonation of a drill sergeant.

Two hours later, she and the kids, along with Angel, had baked thirty chocolate–chocolate chip cupcakes, played Wii Sports, G.I. Joe, and Barbies. Somehow, the kids ended up falling asleep. This left Dylan and Angel with the task of cleaning up the kitchen and playroom by themselves.

“Yo’, I ain’t never been this tired in my life.” Angel stretched.

“Who you tellin’? Look at my nails.” Dylan held up her hands. “They look horrible. I’ma have to go to the nail shop tomorrow and get a fill-in.”

“Does everything that comes out of your mouth have to do with clothes, nails, hair, and makeup?” He looked at her.

“Pretty much,” Dylan scoffed. “What else is there to talk about?”

“How about something a little deeper?” He fixed the pillows on the couch. “Like politics, religion—shit, something about your life. Something.”

“You don’t want to talk about my life.” Dylan sat on the floor and began picking up the twins’ Barbie dolls.

“Actually, I would. I mean, I’ve known you for what?” Angel sat down and thought. “Over ten years, and I don’t really know that much about you. I know that you and yo’ ol’ bird don’t get along that well, but that’s about it.”

“What more do you need to know?” She tried her best to avoid the conversation.

“I don’t know. Whatever you wanna tell me.”

“How ’bout I don’t wanna tell you nothin’?” Dylan shot, feeling scrutinized.

“Figures.” He got up from the couch, knowing she would respond that way.

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” She tuned up her face.

“It means that you always run from complicated situations.”

“I don’t run from shit.”

“Except for the stuff that really matters.”Angel picked up Kyrese’s G.I. Joe tank.

“Since you think you know so much about me, did you know that most of my childhood I spent alone pretending that my Barbie dolls were my best friends? ’Cause I never really could make any real friends, due to the fact that at any moment’s notice . . . when my mother felt like it . . . or some niggah played her, we would be moving to the next city, state, or continent.

“I remember one year in particular, I was transferred to about five different schools. That was the worst year of my life. That was the year my mother met Chauncey.”

“Who is Chauncey?”

“Oh, one of Candy’s many boyfriends.” Dylan cocked her head to the side and exhaled. “One night, after him and Candy drank themselves to death, he snuck into my bedroom.” Dylan bit her top lip and toyed with a Barbie doll’s hair. “He snuck into my bedroom and put his hand underneath my cover and slipped his fingers into my panties. I remember just laying there, unsure of what to do. Like, naturally, the thought of screaming entered my mind, but I was more afraid of whether or not if I screamed Candy would believe that him touching me wasn’t my fault.”

While Dylan talked, Angel began to realize that the story she was telling him wasn’t just a story, but a story one had to earn. For the first time since he’d known her, the superficial wall she’d built came tumbling down.

“Candy called the police, and that night she made the first promise to me that she never kept, that she would slow down on bringing so many men around me. And you know the sad part?” Dylan turned around and looked Angel in the eyes. “I believed her.”

For a while, silence filled the room.

“So, that’s a small portion of my life. Hopefully now you’ll understand why sometimes talkin’ about the insignificant,”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“superficial stuff in life feels better than talkin’ about the deeper stuff.”

“I feel you.” Angel nodded his head, appreciating her more. Then a thought crossed his mind. He wondered if any other man had ever made it this far, which is why the next six words from his mouth changed the course of their relationship forever.

“You know, I’ve never told anybody besides Billie and Tee-Tee that story,” Dylan said sincerely.

“I guess I’m not just anyone.”

Finally Dylan got the phone call she’d been dying to receive. Unexpectedly, after weeks of hearing nothing from him, State called and asked her out for coffee so they could talk. Dylan wanted to be over it and pretend that an explanation didn’t matter, but it did, and she couldn’t deny it. So, at three o’clock that afternoon, she entered MoKaBe’s coffeehouse. State was already there, sitting at a table for two.

Dylan’s heart instantly rose to her throat once she laid eyes on his handsome face. Every emotion she felt and more came rushing back. She felt weak and unsure, like the night Chauncey touched her. What would come of this conversation? Would he say how much he missed her and that he and Ashton were getting a divorce, or would her heart be left splattered on the wooden floor?

“Hey, how are you?” He stood up and gave her a warm hug.

“As good as can be expected, I guess.” She hugged him back, drowning in the scent of his cologne.

“Have a seat.” He gestured with his hand. “I thought about ordering you something, but I didn’t really know what you liked.”

Dylan sat down, feeling as if she’d been stabbed in the heart one thousand times. How in the hell, after three years of dealing with each other, could he not know whether she liked coffee? Maybe that was a sign that what they shared wasn’t that significant.

“That’s fine. I’m not really thirsty or hungry anyway.” She placed her bag down beside her.

“So, what you been up to?”

“Ummm.” Dylan looked at him, confused.

Is this niggah serious right now?
she thought, but ended up saying out loud, “Nothing really.”

“Oh, you know I ended up signing that group from Atlanta.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, we gettin’ ready to start recording soon.”

“Look, that’s good and all, but let’s cut the checks,” Dylan spat, tired of being in limbo.

“You mean cut to the chase.” He laughed.

“Whatever.” She waved him off. “You know what I mean.” She wanted to laugh, but her heart wouldn’t allow her to. “Like, how could you go from never wanting to be anyone’s boyfriend to being somebody’s husband?”

“I know. It fucked me up too.”

“Like, I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand that. I mean, it doesn’t make sense.”

“I wish I could explain it. All I can honestly say is it just happened,” he said, trying his best not to hurt her feelings.

“But that’s what I don’t understand.” Dylan leaned closer. “What happened? All I know is I was pregnant, you proposed, we custom designed my ring, and then one day you changed your mind. Months later, I run into you, you feed me all this bullshit about how much you love me and that this time it’s gon’ be different and you ain’t gon’ keep on steppin’ on my heart,”—she waved her hand back and forth—“but the whole time you’re married. And you never think once of tellin’ me.” Dylan’s lips trembled.

“Damn.” State shook his head. “I don’t even know what to say. I know what I did was fucked up, but one day it just hit me. I just woke up one day and I knew.”

“Knew what?” Dylan asked, dying to know.

“What I was never sure of with you.” State stared deep into her eyes.

Silence filled the space between them. Nothing more had to be said. Dylan knew exactly what he meant. State never felt the same way for her as she did for him. Their love was always off kilter, yet the feeling still remained that being with him was the closet to being in a serious relationship she’d ever experienced.

“I guess that’s all then.” Dylan reached for her purse.

“Don’t end it like this.” State grabbed her hand.

Dylan looked at him. “Wow.” She shook her head and snatched her hand back.

Before State could utter another word of nonsense, Dylan got her bag and left him sitting there. The entire ride home, she sat in the back seat, thankful for having a driver so she could gaze out of the window, wondering how she had been so dumb and naïve to allow herself to fall for a man like State.

Numb to everything around her, Dylan returned home and decided to take Fuck ’em Girl out for her daily walk. She hoped that the fresh air would improve her mood, but Dylan was almost sure it wouldn’t.

Dylan walked down Lindell Boulevard, oblivious to her surroundings. She was trapped in her own galaxy, but there were no stars or moon where she lived. Clouds of darkness and dust consumed her. She hated the fact that once again, she’d let State get the best of her. It wasn’t fair that he could stop her heart from beating with a single word from his tongue.

Dylan was so lost in her own misery that she didn’t even notice that the leash had slipped from her hand. Then she snapped back to reality and recognized that her hand was extended in front of her, but nothing was at the other end of it.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” she whispered, searching her surroundings for Fuck ’em Girl.

“Fuck ’em Girl!” She placed her hands up to her mouth and yelled. “Fuck ’em Girl!”

Other pedestrians on the street looked at her as if she was a crazy woman, but Dylan didn’t care. She had to find her dog.

BOOK: Material Girl

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