Nobody's Girl (16 page)

“Damn, why not?” J.R. asked, sounding disappointed.

“It's just too much. I need to figure out what I got going on here before I jump into anything else. I like you and I don't wanna put you in the middle of all that,” Farrah regrettably confessed.

“I feel you. Thanks for being honest wit' me. I wish I could've seen that pretty face of yours, but it's okay.”

“A'ight,” Farrah said, breathlessly. “I'll talk to you soon.”

“A'ight.” J.R. paused. “Farrah?” he asked to make sure she hadn't hung up yet.

“Yes, J.R.?” she responded.

“You're one of the few good ones left out there, ma. Just make sure whatever you decide, you're happy. Don't ever sell yourself short.” With that, the phone went silent.

Stuck in the moment, Farrah sat staring out into space with her phone tucked into her hand. Had she made the right decision by not going? Whenever she was around J.R., he filled her with nothing but happiness and joy. Was she really going to give that up to continuously argue and fight with Mills? Yes, because he was her husband. The man she'd fallen in love with was still somewhere inside his soul. There was still hope that they could get back to a happy place. Deciding to put her heart back on the chopping block, Farrah called her husband.

“Hello?” Mills answered, surprised that she was calling so soon. After today's events he didn't think he'd hear from her for at least a week or two.

“You busy?”

“Nah, what's up?”

“You wanna have dinner tonight?” she asked, unsure of her words.

“Are you sure you want to do that? About an hour and a half ago you were screaming at me for not giving you your space,” Mills asked, thoroughly confused.

“I know what I said, but I feel like I need to at least try to make this work. I don't know if it's possible, but I'm willing to try.”

“That's all I've been asking this whole time,” Mills said, elated that she'd changed her mind. “Yeah, that's cool. What time you want me to come pick you up?”

“Seven is good,” Farrah responded, looking at the time.

“See you then.”

–Keri Hilson featuring Kanye West and Ne-Yo, “Knock You Down”

 

Farrah stood in front of the bathroom mirror putting the finishing touches on her hair and makeup. Since summer was winding down and it was slightly cool outside, she decided to rock a gold-collar necklace over a golden-yellow chiffon blouse, black, backless, leather, spaghetti strapped, crop top, gray asymmetrical, draped skirt and a pair of ankle-strapped, single sole heels. Her hair was flat ironed bone straight to the back. On her lips she wore a deep plum shade of lipstick that gave her a dark, sensual look.

On the outside she looked beautiful, but the inner part of her felt like one gigantic ball of stress. Her mind and emotions were all over the place. It was almost as if she was spinning out of control. She needed someone to grab her and make her stand still before falling apart, but no one—not even herself—was able to help her keep it together.

“Who you about to serve C.U.N.T. fabulousness to?” London came into her room and stood in the doorway of the bathroom.

“Mills.” Farrah bucked her eyes and applied mascara to her lashes.

“Ugh,” London curled her upper lip. “I thought we were done with him?”

“I can't be done with somebody I'm still married to,” Farrah said, sarcastically.

“Why not?” London threw her head back. “That shit ain't nothing but a piece of paper.”

“And that's exactly why yo' old ass is still somebody's girlfriend and not they wife,” Farrah laughed.

“Bitch, you think I care? You ain't hurting my feelings.” London folded her arms across her chest. “I ain't trying to be nobody's wife. Especially if I'ma end up looking like you.”

“Really bitch?” Farrah shot London a death glare.

“I'm sorry friend, too soon.” London hugged Farrah from behind.

“Get off of me!” Farrah slapped her hands away.

“But seriously, why are you going out with him? We don't like him.” London pouted.

“'Cause I gotta figure this out, London. We are either gonna be together and work everything out or we're gonna go our separate ways. And in order to come to either conclusion we have to spend time together.”

“I guess,” London said, shrugging. “Just don't be no fool, chile.”

“I'm not,” Farrah replied, when the doorbell rang. “Ooh, that's Mills. Can you get the door for me? I'm not ready yet.”

“You sure want me to open the door? His ass might come up dead,” London half joked.

“Just go open the door.” Farrah pushed her out of the room.

London giggled and took her sweet time walking down the two flights of steps leading to the front door. By the time she got there Mills had rung the bell five times.

“Who is it?” London asked, trying her best not to laugh.

“Mills!”

“Bitch-ass nigga? Is that what you said?” London yelled through the door.

“Where Farrah at?” Mills ignored her sarcasm.

“Where yo' baby mama at?” London responded, opening the door.

“Where Teddy at, out with his main chick?” Mills hit her where he knew it would hurt.

“See now I'ma have to cut ya.” London pulled a razor blade from out her cheek.

“London!” Farrah shouted, coming down the steps.

“
Giiiiiiirl
you betta get him,” London warned, walking around in circles.

“Oh my god, we're getting ready to go.” Farrah quickly kissed her friend on the cheek and left.

“Ay yo, you gon' have to get her under control,” Mills warned, as they walked down the walkway leading to his car.

“I know. I'm sorry. She's just looking out for me.”

“Looking out for you gon' get her fucked up.”

“Hi, how are you?” Farrah uttered, changing the subject.

“I'm good. How are you?” Mills asked.

“Have you looked at me?” Farrah stopped mid-stride and posed. “I'm doing great.”

Mills smiled and admired her curvaceous frame. Farrah's body was always swimsuit ready.

“You do look good. You wearing the fuck outta that skirt.” He eyed her thighs.

“Thanks.” Farrah blushed.

“You gon' wrap 'em around my back later?” Mills flirted, opening her door.

“Let's get through dinner first,” Farrah countered.

After a brief car ride, Mills and Farrah made it to Scape, located in the Central West End's historic yet hip Maryland Plaza. Scape was a restaurant with an eclectic blend of classic and contemporary food. The innovative American cuisine sat against a backdrop of warmth and sophistication. From the white linen–topped tables to the fine china to the whimsical bubble chandeliers, no detail was overlooked.

The weather that night was fantastic, so they sat outside at the back bar. The back bar was located right behind Scape and boasted a giant projection screen, flatscreen television, customized bar, enchanting greenery, cobblestone ground, and hanging glowing lights. The setting for a romantic night was there. All Farrah and Mills had to do was show up and be present. After placing their order for drinks and dinner, Mills and Farrah sat having small talk.

“I'm happy you called.” Mills placed his napkin on his lap. “I wasn't expecting to hear from you anytime soon, though. I thought I was gonna have to keep stalking you.” He chuckled, somewhat playing.

“I ain't even know you had that in you,” Farrah laughed.

“You ain't know . . . bitch I'll kill ya',” Mills impersonated Laurence Fishburne in
What's Love Got to Do with It.

“Till you do right by me, everything you even think about gonna fail.” Farrah mimicked Whoopi Goldberg in
The Color Purple
.

“You stupid,” Mills cracked up laughing.

When their laughter subsided a brief moment of silence swept over Farrah and Mills. Neither minded the quiet between the two. Silence was welcomed. It was far better than the ear-splitting bickering they'd been doing for the past few months. It'd been a while since Farrah had the chance to just sit back and bask in his presence.

Amid all of the anger she'd forgotten how handsome Mills was. The fresh haircut and line-up goatee highlighted his chiseled cheekbones. He looked sexy as hell in a thin, black sweater. Three small rope chains with different pendants hung from his neck and a black and gold Movado watch gleamed from his wrist. The physical attraction she had for him had not declined. He still could get it anyway he wanted.

“We haven't been here in a while.” She looked around.

“Hell, I don't even remember the last time we been anywhere in a while. We've been wrapped up in all this bullshit for like a thousand years. All we do anymore is fight,” Mills acknowledged.

“Well, if you hadn't have lied and cheated we wouldn't be fighting.” Farrah smirked, crossing her legs.

“C'mon babe, let's not even get into all that right now.” Mills shut down the conversation quick.

“I just bet we ain't.” Farrah arched her eyebrow as the waiter placed their meals in front of them.

“Anyway, what you got going on?” Mills picked up his fork, ready to dive in.

“What don't I have going on?” Farrah sighed, rolled her eyes to the sky. “I have to pull clothes and jewelry for the BET Hip Hop Awards. I'm styling 2 Chainz's country ass. You don't know how long I've been waiting to get my hands on him. I also have to dress Wale and Meek Mill.”

“That's what's up.” Mills nodded his head slow. “So is ol' boy going to be there?”

“Who?” Farrah furrowed her brow.

“That nigga you kissed.” Mills looked her square in the eyes.

“First of all, he kissed me and I don't know, I guess. Why?”

“'Cause if he is planning on being there, you don't need to be going then,” Mills shot sternly.

“Excuse me,” Farrah rolled her neck. “I didn't know you had a say-so in it.”

“What, you wanna see him or something?” Mills questioned.

“If I wanted to see him, I would see him,” Farrah said, bluntly.

Fuming, she shot Mills a look that said,
Nigga, if you only knew
.

“You know the media is going to have a field day if you go,” Mills continued on. “They're gonna make up a story even if there is none. I don't need anymore bad publicity.”

“The sad part is you're serious,” Farrah scoffed, eating her food.

“You damn right I am. You already embarrassed the hell out of me once. You ain't gon' get the chance to do it again. I don't want you to go nowhere near that nigga.”

“Wow,” Farrah leaned back in her chair. “I see somebody's balls grew bigger. I am not going to miss out on a job opportunity that's going to expand my business just because your insecure ass feels some type of way. This is my job and I'm not going to fuck it up for you or anbody else.”

“So fuck how I feel?” Mills's blood boiled.

“In this case, yes. I know this may come as a surprise to you, but this is not about you. It's about my career. You act like I fucked that man. I didn't step out on our relationship. You did that. So don't even try to put your shit off on me,” Farrah hissed.

“You still on that shit? I fucked up—either you gon' forgive me or you ain't? I'm tired of you bringing the shit up.”

“You're tired,” Farrah said, in disbelief. “Tired of what, exactly? You tired of being a lying, cheating, no-good-ass fool? If that's the case, then yeah, I'm tired too,” she snapped, not caring that people were starting to stare.

“Yo, who the fuck you think you talkin' to? I ain't that soft-ass nigga you fuck wit',” Mills declared.

“I know exactly who you are. That's the problem,” Farrah shot back.

“I'm telling you now, Farrah, if you go to L.A. we gon' have a problem,” Mills warned again.

“We—” Farrah sat up straight and pointed between the two of them, “ain't gon' have shit. You can't give me no ultimatums when you got a whole family across town, chile please. You better get yo' life.”

“You got feelings for this nigga, don't you?” Mills fired back, feeling like his chest was about to cave in.

“If I had feelings for him, trust me, I would be with him right now. But no, I'm here stuck on stupid tryin' to work shit out wit' yo' lousy ass.” Farrah threw her napkin down onto the table.

Both Farrah and Mills were so caught up in their argument that they failed to realize that half the restaurant was listening to their every word.

“If I'm such a lousy-ass nigga, then why are you here? You the same muthafucka that called me talkin' about
I wanna try to work it out
.” He mocked her voice. “If I ain't shit then why you keep coming back?”

Unsure of why she kept coming back, Farrah sat silent.

“Exactly, 'cause you know you're full of shit,” Mills barked.

“Maybe I wouldn't be so full of shit if you stopped feeding it to me all the goddamned time.” Farrah shook her head. “Yo' ass need to get it together and stop doing all the grimy shit that you do. Maybe if you change yo' fuckin' ways we'd be all right.”

“Here you go wit' that again,” Mills waved her off. “Have you ever stopped to think that maybe this is me and that I'm happy wit' who the fuck I am? Maybe I don't wanna change. You want somebody to change so bad, then why da fuck don't you change then. Then maybe you'd quit naggin' and complaining every five seconds! Shit do that!”

“You are so fuckin' disrespectful. You don't give a fuck about me.” Farrah swallowed back the tears that had begun to rise in her throat.

“If I didn't give a fuck about you then why would I be here? I always put you first.”

“You didn't put me first when you fucked that bitch!” Farrah spazzed out. “Did you put me first when you kept yo' baby a secret? Did you put me first when you lied about taking the paternity test?”

Feeling as if it were Groundhog Day, Mills shook his head and sneered. He was so sick of her bringing up the same shit over and over again.

“How many times you gon' bring that shit up?” he quizzed.

“As many times as I please or until you give a fuck,” Farrah spat.

“How about, I don't give a fuck no more. I've said I was sorry a thousand times. I tried to show you that I was on some different shit, but nothing is ever good enough for you.”

“It's not about nothing ever being good enough for me: It's about the level of respect that you have for me. When are you gonna stop and realize what you did to me was fucked up? I wish you could take your head out of your ass long enough to smell your own shit. You don't care about me, Corey. All you do is diss me and disrespect me.” Farrah's hand trembled as she picked up her fork and ate a piece of her steak.

“Then why are you here, Farrah? If you're being
soooooo
disrespected, then why don't you get up out of your seat and move on wit' your life,” Mills barked. “But you ain't doing that, though. You ain't going nowhere. You gon' continue to sit yo' little black ass right there and eat that good-ass piece of steak I'm paying for!”

“You know what? You're right about one thing. I don't know what the fuck I was thinkin'. This was a horrible idea.” Farrah blinked away the tears that stung her eyes.

“You steady talkin' shit but I don't see you moving, though,” Mills dared her.