Mila

There was a knock at the door. Mila’s hair was still in its silk wrap from when she took a shower. She grabbed a thick robe off the bed and headed for the door. She stood on tippy toes to look out the peephole.

Mila’s eyes brightened at the sight. “Father. Mama!”

They hugged in the hallway as Yasmin stood back with her oldest son, Lemuel.

“We had to see you before everyone else,” her dad said, hugging her again.

“You make them wait so long?” Her mother sighed. “Get dressed, my child.”

“I will go.” Her father backed away and flicked Lemuel’s ear. “Come, boy. Allow the women time to converse.”

“No.” Ms. Ali shook her head. “Yasmin and I will assist you with dressing. We are behind schedule,” she complained as her two daughters entered the hotel room with her.

Ms. Ali took a panoramic gander around the living room. “You are rich.” She sighed.

“And happy,” Mila added.

“Girl, Yes!” Yasmin closed the door. “What are you wearing tonight?”

The trio chatted about the wedding while going into the bedroom. Mila started to pick up the dress from the bed, but her oldest sister beat her to it. The white dress was designed to end at the thickest part of her hips, but streams of shredded silk material would hang down almost to her calves. Mila initially thought the outfit was too bold, or more fitting for salsa, but when she’d tried it on upon arrival, her mind was blown. It was just the kind of sexy, daring attire to remind everyone that the night belonged to her.

Yasmin held up the ensemble and took a few exaggerated steps back. “Where is Beyoncé? She needs to take notes.”

“We’ve had issues with a certain designer,” Mila said, “but this one was made for me last month when we visited. Blake’s business partner’s wife sent me to her designer. They took my measurements, and I forgot all about it until the dress came in the mail.”

“Wow, you didn’t have to pay?”

“Not a shiny penny.”

“Humph,” Mrs. Ali eyed the couture design wearily. “Where is the rest of it?”

KNOCK. KNOCK.

“I’ll get it.” Yasmin started for the bedroom door. “Please, dress. And close your ears to mother’s ways. Heck, if my kids could hear me now.”

Mila countered, “I could put on some Drake while I dress.”

Yasmin gave a wink implying that his rap music would get no argument from her.

“Can I see your wedding dress?” Mrs. Ali asked, meekly.

“Sure, Mama.” Mila headed to the closet. “Blake promised not to open this door.”

Her mother followed, and tears glossed her eyes. “Oh, my gorgeous Mila, you will be the most beautiful bride. I’m afraid to touch, and it’s all wrapped up. Are those—”

“Swarovski crystals.” Mila smiled.

“Oh, my and these feathers are plush.” As her mother fawned over the dress and gushed to her daughter, Yasmin entered the room. “There is a woman by the name of Akari at the door. She seemed very sweet and wanted to know if you had a moment to spare?”

“Sure. She’s the wife of Blake’s new business partner I just mentioned.”

“Well, let me see how generous she is. Hell, I can get my Beyoncé on too.”

“Don’t even try it,” Mila warned, following her out of the room.

She wasn’t positive about how to greet Akari, yet the hugger in her came out. “I have the dress. Thank you. Thank you.” Mila said letting her go.

“Good. I have something else for you. Do you remember my customs that I spoke to you about?”

“Yes.” Mila started to usher Akari inside when out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Lamb. And Lido.

Words stopped at the tip of Mila’s tongue.

“Hello, little sister!” Lido said in Somalian. She stalked past Akari. Though slim, the strut of her high heels and how she jutted her thin hips pushed the Japanese woman into Mila.

“This is my sis—”

“Oh, c’mon, now. Introducing me needs to lead with something a little more relevant. I am world-renowned Super Model, Lido Ali—”

“What are you doing?” Yasmin placed a hand on her hip as Mila righted Akari.

“Better known as billionaire Blake Baldwin’s new mistress. Damn, doesn’t that have a ring to it? It’s like a royal title. Blake’s Mistress.”

“We will be leaving now.” Lamb went to grab Lido’s hand.

“Don’t touch her!” Mila shouted.

“Must you be so disgusting?” Yasmin asked.

“A Mistress? A common whore? And you’re happy about it?” They all turned to see Mrs. Ali at the door to the bedroom. “In front of strangers, you’d make such a statement?”

Lido grinned from ear to ear. “Yes, Mother Dearest.”

Mila slowly began to remove the diamond solitaires from her ears and then the bracelet and her ring. As Yasmin cursed her sister, Mila pressed the jewels into her hands, which caused Yasmin to stutter, caught off guard.

“Be quiet!” Mila shouted.

“But she’s lying, Mila,” Yasmin said. “Blake is disgusted by her. Don’t believe this bullshit.”

“Tell me.” Mila’s voice had regained some semblance of calmness. “You are my fiancé’s new mistress?”

For a man who rarely carried on a conversation with her, Lamb spoke up. “Blake made her attend because you love her, Mila. That’s all.”

Mila chewed on her bottom lip in thought. Then she asked, “What does she get?”

Akari shifted from stiletto to stiletto, and her gaze slid to the floor in the awkward silence.

“Another mansion and a hot pink jet.” Lido grinned. “You believe it don’t you?”

“Yes. What else?”

“Your man. You always convinced me that I should be a model. I should’ve known it was to steal the royal!”

“The royal? I stole the royal? The cousin of Z’ier Yacob Farquadd,” Mila huffed the words. “Do you even remember your betrothed’s name? Hello? Do you remember the man’s name!”

“That’s not important—”

Mila shook her head. “Alright, next subject of why the little sister should be treated like shit? Alright, I told you to become a model? I helped you accomplish a goal that millions of young girls only dream of!” Her tone went from sarcastic to livid as she shouted, “I gave you magazines! Hello, Lido. You would pinch me when I was little. Told me to take those old fashion magazines from my friend’s mother when I would play at her house, or you’d threaten to pinch me again!”

“Doesn’t matter now, Mila.” Lido spoke in a soothing voice. “What does matter now, is that I get your husband. You know on those days when the two of you are at odds. You believe that?” Lido tossed the question like dirt in her baby sister’s face.

“Oh, yes. I believe it.” The lie came out as a murmur, numb and melancholic. It had hardly passed Mila’s lips when she lunged toward Lido. She didn’t believe for a second that Blake wanted her sister. There would’ve been no wedding, no engagement, no them—period—if he had eyes for anyone else but her.

Mila’s hands wrapped around Lido’s neck, gripping with a lifetime worth of vengeance as her source of strength. “I believe you are the best motherfucking sister when shit hits the fan,” she grunted, using all of her energy to squeeze Lido’s scrawny ass neck. “As evidenced by you handing over tissue after tissue when Warren died. I bet you secretly loved my pity party.”

Though her older sister won in the height factor, Lido didn’t have any extra weight. Her eyes were beginning to water, cheeks shaking. She wasn’t even able to gasp for a single ounce of air.

Mila held enough weight in her ass and hips to pen Lido down. Unable to get a hold of Mila’s forearms, Lido made the mistake of turning. Mila ended up on Lido’s back, pummeling her head and neck with an onslaught of fists.

“You want what’s mine?!” she screamed. “Then you can take this ass whooping!” Mila slapped her hand across the back of her head. Lido tossed her arms up, but Mila was seeing red and meeting her mark. “Every hit! Every pinch! Every time you stabbed me in the fucking back, bitch, you can have it all.”

In an instant, it was all over. Lamb gripped Mila by the waist. Her robe was falling apart. He kept his pale blue gaze averted.

Though there was sympathy in his tone, he also issued a command. “Stop. Please.”

Mila tried to get around him. “Get up. Fight me. That’s what you want because blood isn’t shit.”

Tears stung her eyes. Lamb held her at arm’s length. With Lido clasping at a bloody nose, he needed to attend to her. Lamb let go.

Yasmin caught Mila’s hand. The look on her face was one of sheer shock. It took her moments to utter the words, “Sister, Stop.”

“Fuck You, Yas!”

“What?”

Her mother was livid. “Mila, you are an embarrassment.”

Mila pulled off her toppled scarf. “I’m an embarrassment? Mom, you created a monster! All the years I missed with my father because you can’t churn the water! And I didn’t churn the fucking water—just like you. Me and you, mom, we are weak people. We are walked on. We don’t cause problems. We don’t churn the water!” Mila gestured with stiff fingers. “Oh, but you can play the background. I’ll forgive you for not knowing how psychotic this bitch really is! All I get from you is, ‘help Lido. I’m disappointed in you for not picking up this bitch from the hospital!’ No ‘Congrats on your engagement.’ No. Lido gets front and center. And you . . .” She turned to Yasmin. “You wanted this bitch in my wedding. You helped pit us against each other!”

Mila finally noticed Akari, who took up residence near her mother. It wasn’t her mother’s shame, but the talk she had with Akari during the wedding planning that stopped Mila. How could a woman she hardly knew tell her something that sunk to the pit of her stomach? This shame clung to her. Slowing her down—

Lamb had finally gotten Lido to her feet.

“Sister . . . sister . . .” Lido wiped the blood from her nose and rubbed at her tears. Those dark, envious eyes were flooded with tears, shock, and fear. “Please talk to me, sister. I’m—”

“Sister?” Mila scoffed. Akari’s words from their last trip faded to black. Mila snapped—again. Or she had returned to that crazed woman who owed her sister a good ass whooping.

Something caught her eyes, Blake was entering the room. He hadn’t seen Mila, but his eyes held concern. Concern for Lido? It felt like ants digging beneath Mila’s skin. And if she didn’t get those fucking poisonous ants, they’d kill her!

“Mila, baby, are you okay?” Blake asked.

“She’s not,” Yasmin mumbled a response to Blake’s question.

A fleeting image took over Mila’s vision. She didn’t see Blake before her. She saw Lido as a ten-year-old, struggling to walk around in their mother’s heels. Their mother’s favorite dirac, a deep purple dress with shimmery silver accents, sliding along Lido’s shoulder as she stalked over to her in their tiny bedroom.

“Are you playing at Ukiya’s today?”

“Lido, I can’t keep taking her mother’s magazines. I almost got caught,” Mila tried. She stepped back a few paces but bumped into the closet door.

Mila felt the twisting of the skin on her forearm just as if it were happening now. On a table near her, Mila saw the tray from the room service she and Blake had shared earlier. Seeing a knife wrapped in a linen napkin, she grabbed it.

“Baby, what are you doing?” Blake started closer to her.

“Move,” Mila ordered. She couldn’t even see him. The only thing she perceived was the threat in front of her face that she’d always caved to. She had but one mission. Terminating the threat!

Blake held up his hands, palms out in a calming manner. “Listen, no matter what Lido has said—”

“I said move!” She sliced out at him. Only one part of her brain worked. The part that kept recalling all the cruel things Lido had ever done to her over the years. And damn, but her brain was working in overdrive to save face—well, what was left of it. To right wrongs. To defend herself.

Blake held his hands out. “Do you think I am screwing your sister. Fuck, Mila. Think—”

“You will get that magazine, Mila,” a young Lido ordered, arms folded, blocking her path out of the bedroom. Yasmin was supposed to be watching them. She actually did a good job taking care of her younger sisters when their parents were away, but Lido knew just how and when to corner Mila. Their oldest sister was probably cleaning up the kitchen after the meal she’d made them that night.

With her back planted against the door, Mila tried to stand her ground. “Mama doesn’t like us to have those magazines in the house either. Lido, can’t you just read the ones I already took?”

Mila roared as she lashed out at him again. “This bitch wants to ruin my wedding. My life!”

“Little sister,” Lido spoke up as Blake ordered Lamb to get her out of the room. But she was pushing away from Lamb’s hold and attempting to talk to Mila.

“Walaashay yar—little sister.” Her voice sent fire down Mila’s spine.

Mila tried to run past Blake, and he grabbed her. “Stop it, now!”

This time Mila sliced out again and met her mark. His shirt was cut, and blood was dripping from his forearm.

At the sight of Blake’s blood, Mila stopped. The image of Lido cornering and twisting the skin on her arm until it bruised crashed down around her. She dropped the knife. “I-I’m sorry.”

Blake’s lips were taut. “I said, take her and go,” he ordered Lamb, hardly glancing in Lido’s direction. Blake looked at Akari. He mumbled something about the swordfish on the menu for tonight.

“I will . . .” Akari finally spoke. “Be at the party.” Her final statement was mixed with confusion. Would there still be a party?

Mila tried to touch him, but he flinched away from her caress. “Blake, I’m—”

“Just answer my one question.” Blake snapped. “Did it honestly cross your mind that I’d fuck your sister?”

“No.”

He started for the door.

“Blake. I’m sorry.” She gasped. “I honestly would never believe that. I- I just . . . stooped to her level. I didn’t know Akari would—”

“That was my only question.” The finality in his tone left no room for her to speak.

Soon the room was a quiet mess. Mila glanced down at herself. She hastily tied a knot on her robe. There were tiny droplets of blood on the sleeve—Blake’s blood. She’d hurt the man that she loved. I am such an idiot.

“You thought I invited Lido into your wedding to be a bitch?” Yasmin asked.

Mila opened her mouth. Before she could speak, her oldest sister reared back on her heels and stalked to the door. Lamb grabbed Lido’s arm and without a word escorted her out.

“If we ever cross paths again, sister,” Mila shouted, “you’ll regret it.”

Slowly she came down from the onslaught of anger and adrenaline assaulting her veins. Then Mila felt like shit. She glanced at her angered mother and huffed. Damn, I argued with you too.

A stifled sob slammed through Mila. She sunk down onto the floor and cried. Flexing her slender fingers, she hated herself for the fleeting pleasure she derived from causing pain. It had felt so good to hurt Lido.