Material Girl 2: Labels and Love (18 page)

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Authors: Keisha Ervin

BOOK: Material Girl 2: Labels and Love
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“
Vous êtes beaux
.” He traced her cheek with his fingertip.
“I don’t know what you just said but thank you,” she laughed, embarrassed.
“I said you’re beautiful.”
“Honey, you are too.” She blushed biting down on her lip.
“Thank you. So what’s your name, beautiful?”
“Dylan, and you?”
“Javier Cruz, but you can call me Cruz.”
“Cruz, are you French?”
“No,” he chuckled. “I’m Spanish.”
“Oh,” she laughed too.
“I play midfield for Spain’s national soccer team.”
“Wow, no wonder.” Dylan gave his body a lustful glance.
Cruz smiled at her appreciation of his physique.
“What you doing after all of this is done?” he asked, dying to see her naked.
“Going back to my hotel,” she replied. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“Where you from?”
“St. Louis, Missouri. You ever heard of it?”
“Yeah, some of my homeboys live out there.”
“That’s what’s up.”
“So what’s the deal, Ma?” Cruz massaged her hips. “We standing here diggin’ on each other. I know you wanna come back home wit’ me. I promise I won’t keep you up too late.” He licked his bottom lip and ran his hands down her thighs.
“I wish I could, but I’m here with my cousin. I can’t just leave him like that,” Dylan said, flushing in distress.
Her body was screaming for Cruz to put it on her in the worst way.
“Huuuuuuuuh,” Cruz groaned, becoming impatient. “What’s the problem, Ma? I can see it in your eyes. You want me just like I want you. What, you scared?”
“I’m a grown woman. A grown woman ain’t scared of no dick,” Dylan retorted.
“If that’s the case, then quit bullshittin’ and come home wit’ me,” he said with an intense look of desire in his eyes before kissing the side of her neck.
Dylan wanted to be a lady and protest, but the flicker of his tongue on her skin had her feeling as if she were going in circles.
“All right.” She backed away from him still holding his hand.
Dylan knew if she allowed him to continue, her dress would be off and she’d be fuckin’ him right there on the street corner.
“Ummm . . . you’re fine,” she said gathering her composure. “God knows you are, but I’m thirty years old wit’ a newborn baby at home whom I miss terribly. And to be totally honest, I would love to go home wit’ you, but I don’t think that all the muscles in the world—and believe me, you are workin’ wit’ a nice set of them—” Dylan ran her eyes over his arms and chest again—“could get me out of these Spanx I’m wearing right now,” she said with a laugh. “But more important, I like you . . . I do, but I don’t think I’m ready for any of this.”
Cruz couldn’t help but value her honesty. It was refreshing to meet a woman who wasn’t trying to be something she was not.
“It’s cool,” he said with a slight look of disappointment on his face. “Can I at least call you sometime?”
“Of course.”
“Well, here, put yo’ number in my phone.” He handed her his phone.
Once Dylan programmed her number, Cruz saved it and pulled her close once more.
“I know you’re scared,” he whispered into her ear. “And frankly, I’d be scared too, but it’s a’ight, though.” He gazed fondly into her eyes. “I’ma wait on you.”
 
 
After a whirlwind trip to Paris, Dylan returned home full of energy. She was ready to conquer the world, but first she had to check her messages. Dropping her bags down by her bed, she checked her caller ID. Dylan had over fifty missed calls from Billie, Brenda, State, and numerous other friends.
“Damn, folks must’ve really missed me,” she said out loud as the phone started to ring.
It was State.
“Dylan Monroe speaking,” she answered playfully.
“Where you been? I’ve been tryin’ to reach you for days,” he said with a sense of urgency in his voice.
“Paris, I went there for fashion week. Why?” Dylan took off her earrings.
“Fuck! You don’t know, do you?” State massaged his forehead.
“Know what?” Her chest tightened.
“Somebody leaked the sex tape Ashton had of us.”
“What?” Dylan panicked. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“I wish I was, man,” State said regrettably.
“Wait,” she paused. “What do you mean ‘somebody leaked the tape’? It was Ashton, wasn’t it?”
“Nah, she said she didn’t do it.”
“And you believe her?” Dylan shrieked.
“Yeah, I know when she lyin’. She ain’t do it.”
Suddenly, Dylan had a flashback of the night she ran into Ashton at Angel’s suite and Milania’s warning.
I’m going to make your life a living hell,
she remembered.
“You’re right, she didn’t leak the tape, but she did give it to someone else.” Dylan closed her eyes and sighed.
“Who?”
“Angel’s bitch fiancée from hell, Milania,” Dylan seethed with rage. “She did it, and she picked the perfect time to do it. She waited until everybody got comfortable and when it would affect me the most. Right when my career has taken off because it really wouldn’t have affected me beforehand ’cause I didn’t have anything going on yet.” She sucked her teeth.
Tears were already starting to form in her eyes. Her career was over before it even started. She didn’t even have to talk to Brenda to realize it. The Food Network was a wholesome network that didn’t deal or tolerate scandals. Dylan was devastated. Everything she’d worked so hard for had been taken away in a blink of the eye because of a manipulative bitch, and there was nothing she could do about it.
“I’m sorry, man. I just wish there was something I could do,” State said genuinely. “You want me to come over?”
“No, I’m fine,” she cried, silently. “I just wanna be by myself right now. I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up before he could reply.
 
“Mama always warned me bout boys like you.”
Nicole Wray, “Boy You Should Listen”
17
Dylan sat in the center of her bed painting her toenails black because it fit her mood. For the past couple of weeks all she had been able to do was cry and pray. The wind had been knocked out of her, and she tried telling herself that her bad luck would one day go away, but no matter where she turned or ran, the gray cloud hovering over her was still there.
There had to be more for her life than this. She’d changed for the better, but somehow was still paying for her past transgressions. She didn’t understand why God was being so mean to her. How could he possibly bring her all this way to turn his back on her now? It wasn’t fair, and more important, it hurt like hell. Her entire future was at stake. She couldn’t turn on the television or go to the grocery store without seeing her face plastered everywhere.
Internet thugs on the blog sites dogged her day in and day out. The Food Network executives didn’t want to be affiliated with the scandal, so they put her show on hiatus until they could figure out what to do with her. Even her book sales had dropped. Dylan couldn’t win for losing. With all of the negative energy surrounding her, she didn’t even want to leave the house.
She and Mason stayed cooped up in her room because she couldn’t bear facing the world. She’d thought of calling Angel, but every time she picked up the phone, her silly pride would get in the way and she’d hang up. That dreary afternoon while painting her toenails and watching one of her favorite reality shows,
Say Yes to the Dress: Atlanta
, Dylan received a phone call that would take her life into another dramatic turn. She checked the caller ID on her phone and saw that it was a local number that she’d seen a few times but had opted not to answer. She didn’t want to risk it being a reporter. However, that day, something in her told her to pick up and see who it was.
“Hello?” she said hesitantly, disguising her voice to sound like a man.
“Speak to Dylan?”
“May I ask whose callin’?” She asked, deeply.
“Cruz.”
“Oh, hi,” she spoke in her normal tone..
“What’s been up wit’ you? I’ve been tryin’ to call you.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve just been a li’l busy,” she lied.
“Well, I’m in town.”
“Really?” she said surprised. “You’re in St. Louis?”
“Yeah, I wanted to see you. What you doing in the next hour?”
“Nothin’. No major plans, why?”
“We was about to get some food and one of my pot’nahs was talkin’ about takin’ this girl he’s in love with and I’m going to take the girl I’m in love wit’. Then I figured you could come too,” he joked.
“That was cute.” Dylan smiled for the first time in weeks.
“Nah, for real, I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me tonight,” he said seriously, praying she’d say yes.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“What? You gotta a man or something?” he stated, taken aback.
“No, it’s not that.”
“Well, what then?” he quizzed.
Dylan sat quietly, scared to tell him the real reason why.
“Is it me? ’Cause, I mean, I’m sexy,” Cruz probed.
“No, it’s not that either,” she giggled.
“Oh, I get it. It’s not about me. It’s about that whole sex tape thing, isn’t it?”
“So you’ve heard?” Dylan froze, holding her breath.
“Yeah, but I ain’t trippin’ off that shit. I like you, and I wanna get to know you, if you would let me.” His tone was low and raspy.
Dylan couldn’t help but blush.
“Real talk,” Cruz took control of the situation, “I’m not taking no for an answer, so put your flyest outfit on and be ready by seven.”
Dylan looked at the clock. It was 5:30. It would be a race to find a babysitter and get dressed in time, but she figured, what the heck. She wasn’t doing anything else that night anyway. With no more excuses of why she couldn’t say yes, Dylan opened up and said, “I’ll see you then.”
 
 
Dylan hung up and immediately called Billie to see if she would babysit. Overjoyed that Dylan was making an attempt at getting back to the land of the living, Billie gladly offered her help. After rushing and dropping Mason off, Dylan made it back home in just enough time to shower and dress. By 7:00 on the dot she was ready to go. Sitting by the window, she looked out in anticipation of seeing Cruz pull up.
Forty-five minutes later, her leg had begun falling asleep and she was past pissed. Cruz hadn’t even bothered to call to explain why he was late. Fuming, Dylan stood up and headed toward the steps to take off her clothes, but the sound of someone ringing the doorbell stopped her. Knowing it was Cruz she walked to the door eager to give him a piece of her mind.
“Mmm-hmm?” She opened the door open with an attitude.
“My bad for being late. I got caught up.” He leaned against her door frame and shot her a crooked grin.
“Frankly, I don’t find anything funny,” Dylan shot sternly. “It’s one thing for you to be late, but to be late and not even pick up the phone is quite inconsiderate, don’t you think?”
“You’re right, I should’ve called. The only reason I didn’t is because I was tryin’ to get here as fast as I could.”
“That’s cool, but I got a lot going on in my life right now, and I don’t have time for a bunch of nonsense, so please don’t waste my time,” she stated bluntly.
Cruz slid his arm around her waist, pulled her into him, and said, “This will never happen again, I promise.”
“I know it won’t, ’cause I’m not going,” Dylan countered.
“C’mon, pretty girl. I said I was sorry. Let me make it up to you.”
Dylan glared at him. She wanted to still be upset but the smell of cologne, the sight of his lips, and the feel of his hand on her ass made her heart pound. It wasn’t fair. A man like Cruz should bear a warning. He was dangerous, and unbeknownst to Dylan, she was falling head over heels in lust with him.
“All right, but I swear this better be the best date I’ve ever been on.”
Once Dylan found out the destination of their date, she was on fire. Instead of taking her to a five-star restaurant, Cruz took her to Atomic Cowboy. It was a bar in the heart of the city. A hip-hop festival was going on. Local rappers took their turn performing on various stages. Hipsters in attendance bobbed their heads and sipped on beer.
Hand in hand, Cruz led Dylan outdoors to the patio section where artists created murals in front of viewers. Dylan could barely walk. The entire outside area was made up of small rocks.
I could’ve put on a T-shirt and some jeans for this shit,
she thought. The Herve Leger iron-dust color, strapless, form-fitting, bandage dress that hit midthigh and Valentino sculpture lace pumps were no match for the elements. She was overdressed and slightly underwhelmed with his choice of venue.
“I thought we were going to dinner,” she said as she walked trying not to fall.
“Nah, some of my pot’nahs up here, so I figured we’d meet up with them.”
“O . . . kay.” Dylan looked around, perplexed.
“There they go over there by the bar. You want something to drink?” Cruz looked down at her.
“No, thank you.” Dylan shook her head trying her best not to get upset.
“I’ll be right back,” Cruz assured her, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.
Agitated as hell, Dylan stood at a table alone, trying her best to keep her balance. Everyone kept staring at her. She didn’t know if it was because of her out-ofplace outfit or the sex tape. Either way, she was mortified. She stuck out like a sore thumb. Dylan was so busy worrying about what people were thinking about her that she hadn’t even noticed she’d been waiting by herself for over half an hour.
Cruz had already gotten his drink and was shooting the shit with his friends as if she weren’t even there.
This fool done lost his damn mind,
Dylan thought. Tucking her clutch underneath her arm, she walked very slowly in his direction. On the way there, a rock got caught in her shoe, stabbing her in the foot.
“Goddamnit!” She wobbled, standing on one foot, wincing in pain.
Then the unthinkable occurred. While shaking her foot profusely, Dylan lost her balance and fell backward, causing her legs to fly up in the air and everyone to see her tan-colored Spanx. Right away, people started laughing and pointing while snapping pictures. Humiliated to the highest extent, Dylan put her legs down and closed her eyes.
“Just act like you’re asleep. Just act like you’re asleep,” she whispered.
“Baby, you a’ight?” Cruz rushed over.
Dylan opened one of her eyes and glared up at him.
“Get the hell away from me,” she quipped, sitting up.
“What I do? Let me help you up.” Cruz extended his hand.
“I can do it myself,” she hissed, slapping his hand away.
Dylan set her hand on top of the rocks and pushed her body off the ground. Wiping her hands together, she dusted off the dirt on her hands and dress.
“You sure you’re a’ight?” Cruz asked with a laugh.
“And you’re laughing?” Dylan shouted amazed. “No, I’m not okay. I’m ready to go home.”
“Don’t you think you going a li’l overboard? We just got here.” He continued to laugh.
“Just take me home. I’ll be at the car.” She stomped away.
Cruz gulped down the rest of his drink and told his boys he’d holla at them later. Dylan leaned against Cruz’s Benz CLK 230 Kompressor wondering why she ever agreed to go out on a date with him in the first place. She had enough drama going in her life. A man would only add to it. Cruz chirped the alarm on his car. He didn’t even bother to open Dylan’s door.
“Wack ass,” she spat, getting inside on her own. “You know what? This whole thing was a complete waste of a really great outfit. There is no love connection between you and me.”
“Nope, none at all.” Cruz started up the engine and sped off, heated.
“Do you know what I had to go through to even be able to go out with you tonight? First of all, you called me on short notice and asked me to go out wit’ you, and since I thought you were somewhat cute, I decided to go!” she went off, staring at him.
“But I had to find a babysitter, take my son over there, come back home, take a shower, do my hair, find something that I could wear and fit in as well as get dressed, all in the matter of an hour and a half. Then you pick me up late wit’ some dumb-ass excuse, and against my better judgment, I go out with you anyway. Oh, but then, guess what? The joke was on me ’cause instead of taking me to a nice restaurant like you said, you take me to a
bar
,” she stressed, appalled. “And leave me alone the whole time while you chop it up wit’ yo’ friends! Like really, who do you think I am? Better yet, how could I have been so stupid? You are just like all the rest.”
“Say that again?” Cruz barked while keeping an eye on the road.
“You heard me,” Dylan whipped her neck around. “I said you’re just like all the rest. A pompous ass who thinks the world revolves around you.”
“Oh, word,
that’s
how you feel?” he shot, getting on to the highway.
“I said it, didn’t I?” Dylan shot back, not giving a fuck.
“Yo’, you not even in the position to act like you such a Goody Two-shoes. I know all about you.”
“What the hell is
that
supposed to mean?”
“It means you just like all the rest of these broads out here. You ain’t fuckin’ wit’ a man unless he got a lot of money. It’s strictly athletes, ball playas, and rappers for you.”
“Fool, please, I’m not lowering my standards for nobody, so if that makes me a gold digger, then, oh . . . the . . . fuck . . . well, I’ma be diggin’ forever. And trust, I don’t need a man for his money ’cause I’ve always had my own, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, that’s right. You own a bakery,” he scoffed pulling up to her house. “And a canceled show on The Food Network. Yeah, you’re rollin’ in it.”
“For your information, I was born with money so while your ass was kickin’ around balls as a child dreaming of a way out of the slums, I was gettin’ waited on by butlers and maids. And this cheap-ass car,” Dylan took off her seat belt enraged, “I had one of these when I was sixteen, chile, please.” She got out and slammed the door.
“Don’t be slamming my door!” Cruz barked out the window.
“Shut up!” Dylan threw up her middle finger and walked into her house, vowing never to see him again.
 
 
The following weekend, Billie and Dylan were at Mina’s Joint Salon and Spa getting their hair and makeup done. It was early afternoon and the salon was jam-packed. Business was booming for Mina, and Dylan couldn’t be happier for her. Mo, Mina’s best friend, was there too getting a mani and pedi. She was seven months pregnant with her third child with her longtime boyfriend Boss.
“So how do you like being a mommy?” Mo asked Dylan.

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