Four
It’s a little different being at the Ferguson compound this time around.
The inside of the Ferguson compound emanates old money. Not the type where people got lucky and bought nice things. It’s the type where you keep your hands firmly by your side because you’re too damn scared you’re going to bump into a priceless artifact and you’re going have to sell your kidney to pay it off.
It’s a museum within its own.
As Ian’s niece and nephews play out on the spiraling front yawn with their cousins, I’m making my first guest appearance at their Thanksgiving. Adrienne and Emma are helping Ian’s stepmother, Elise, set the table, while Ian completely took over the kitchen. The rest of the Ferguson men are sitting around watching cricket in the theater. The servants have the entire holiday off to spend with their families.
I’m trying to find something to do and be a little useful so I casually wonder around the eclectic home. Lots of expensive furniture, priceless artwork, and state of the art equipment greets me from room to room. It’s a museum, library, and a bit of London charm with the sunny disposition of Los Angeles rolled into one. It sounds funny but it strangely works.
As I walk through the palatial estate, I see the silent but huge impact of Lula Jean. She’s on almost every wall throughout the home. I feel her presence in every room and I only guess she had a heavy hand in decorating it. The lighting is warm and inviting, not clinical. It feels like a home.
It reminds me of Ian.
Seeing how his mother decorated the family compound reminds me of why he decorated his home the way he did. He has a few eclectic and super-expensive items, but the home feels more like a lived-in one complete with a housewife, kids, and pets. I would’ve never guessed one of the world’s most eligible bachelors (well, used to be) lived there.
The sofas in one of the family rooms (since there are several) look comfortable and lived-in, though I’m sure they cost a small fortune. They’re not the typical leather sofas every person with new money buys. They’re covered with suede and I immediately know they’re the sofas that people purchase to look at, and not for anyone to actually sit in them.
I walk over to the window and silently stand next to it as I study the outside view. Neat rows of manicured grass stare back at me as the hot Pasadena sun beats down on them. The other Ferguson women are fanning themselves off and sharing the latest socialite gossip that would probably bore me if I entertained them.
I’m welcomed into the family fold but I feel strangely alone, like I don’t belong.
It’s not a race thing. No one has mentioned my skin color or make snide comments about me being black. It’s a class thing and I’m very much aware of where I came from to who I currently am. I grew up rich, but I didn’t have a maid or a chef. My parents worked very hard to provide a good life for me and my sister.
But the Fergusons…this is a different tax bracket type of wealthy. Ian always had a maid, butler, and chauffeur. In fact, a maid comes by his home twice a week to clean it, though he prefers driving.
He’s never shopped in a mall and had Neiman Marcus and Geary’s credit accounts since he turned 18.
I, on the other hand, grew up in Baldwin Hills. We didn’t have a maid or a chauffeur. We lived in a very nice area of Los Angeles, and I could name some childhood friends who grew up to become rappers or athletes.
But let’s not get it twisted – if anyone was washing my funky underwear, it was me, not my mama.
I let out a sigh thinking about her. Every holiday is tough and it really doesn’t get any easier. Now that I’m effectively estranged from Sam, the holidays are even lonelier. I glance down at the ginormous diamond on my finger and I can’t help but to think I’m about to get married to the man of my dreams, have the wedding of my dreams, and I’m alone.
Don’t get me wrong; I love Adrienne and she’ll be my sister for life, but she can’t replace our mother. My mother was the one that taught me about boys from a young age, telling me to never ‘give it away to just anyone.’ She taught me about life, encouraging me to travel when I was young and childless.
She taught me about everything I needed to know about finding my way and becoming a woman. And I just only hope I’m a fraction of the woman she was.
I finally sit down on the expensive furniture I probably shouldn’t be sitting on, and I’m sure I’ll be scolded at by one of the Fergusons when they find out. I don’t even care anymore. The tears are in free-fall mode and I can’t stop them. Each time I wipe them away, more fall to replace them. I’m sure my makeup is smeared and my eyes are probably weed smoker red.
I just really miss my Mommy.
My shoulders shudder and I can barely breathe. I’ve shed numerous tears over my mother in the past years and it doesn’t get any easier. Every holiday is a stark reminder there’s a key member missing from our family. I can only talk to the sky for so long, visit her gravesite so much, and it just doesn’t get any fucking easier.
There’s a huge hole in my heart and she’ll never see her future grandchildren. She’ll never help me shop for the perfect wedding dress. We’ll never get into nonsensical arguments about Jordan almonds and why I can’t sit Aunt Gloria next to Fertile Myrtle Angie.
She’ll never help me prepare for my baby shower, nor would she ever be in the delivery room when I’m going through agony delivering Ian’s child. She won’t be there when our baby does arrive, with a proud smile on her face, telling me, ‘You did it!’
My mother is gone.
“Domi?”
Hearing Gerald call my name reminded me where I am and who’s around. I quickly stand up and try in vain to wipe the tears off my face and hope my eyes are somewhat presentable before I turn around. Just as I stand up and try to rush out of the room with a muffled ‘I’m sorry’, he stops me.
“Hey, hey…” He grabs my arms. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I’m not sure if you’re the right person to talk about this?” My words come out in harsh breaths as I’m trying to regain my composure.
“Try me,” he leads me back to the room and sit down the same expensive furniture I was on, “what’s going on?”
“I just really miss my mom right now,” I swallow, “that’s all.”
“No, that isn’t all,” Gerald removes a silk handkerchief from his pocket and hands it over to me, “I know how it feels. My mum died when I was still in high school. Ian had already left for college. He was barely a semester into his freshman year and was down for winter break when the accident happened.” He shakes his head. “I can still remember the emotions of that night. Playing with my friends, only to receive news I needed to come home right away. There wasn’t a hospital stay because she died on impact. I’m thankful she didn’t suffer but that’s it.”
“How do you deal with it?” I ask through harsh breaths.
Gerald shrugs and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The best way I can. Every so often, I get a sharp, unbearable pain in my chest because I think of what she’d missed. Right now, she’ll be in the kitchen with Ian, probably scolding him about how needs to eat more fish pie to fatten up.” He chuckles and I smile. “She would’ve loved Emma to death. There’s a lot of mum in Emma. I think that was part of the reason why I was drawn to her. It was as if mum handpicked her.” He turns to me. “She would’ve adored you as well. There’s a lot of mum in you, too.”
“Oh?” The news surprises me. I always had the feeling Lula Jean and I were worlds different. “How?”
“You’re both very headstrong and quite stubborn,” he softly chuckles, “but you two have two of the biggest hearts I can imagine. Mum loved music and was always playing it. She would’ve gotten a kick out of you pole dancing.”
“She wouldn’t have been ashamed or disappointed in me or Ian?” I cautiously ask.
“Nah, mum wasn’t the judgmental type. Her attitude was as long as you were good to her, she was good to you. She didn’t care what went on behind closed doors. She didn’t have time for any of that.” Gerald shakes his head and folds his arms. “She was far too busy with her friends, her charities, and acquiring more art. That was her focus.”
“Sounds like Ian,” I blow my nose.
“Ian and mum were best friends. I was close with her, too, but she and Ian had a special bond. She didn’t approve of Naomi but she supported Ian because she loved him. I imagine she would’ve been quite pleased the marriage didn’t go through.”
“Even if she was the cause of it?” I ask.
“You had to know mum to understand she had a very twisted sense of humor.” Gerald turns to me and offers a polite grin. “Tell me about Regina Kimbrough.”
I slightly chuckle through the salty tears. “What is it you want to know? She was my mom.”
“I know she was an art collector but what else about her?” Gerald nods. “What did she like? What did she hate? How would you describe her?”
“Regina Kimbrough,” I let out another sigh and stare up at the ceiling, “she was…amazing. She was never into technology and struggled to keep up with everything. She would hate all of the social media nowadays. She barely kept up with her phone.” A slight chuckle escaped me. “My mother had me young, she was barely out of high school when she had Adrienne, but she had an old spirit about her. She loved old-school soul and I think she and Ian would’ve bonded on that. She was always listening to the Ohio Players, Teddy Pendergrass, the Commodores, and the Isley Brothers. That’s all I heard. I can remember one time I woke up from some good sleep to Al Green blasting in the living room. She was cleaning. She always put on Al Green to clean. I will forever associate “Love & Happiness” with Pine-Sol.” I smiled and Gerald joined me.
“She sounded like an amazing person,” he adds.
“She was,” I nod, “she was the most incredible woman on earth. I find myself talking to her but it helps. Sometimes I don’t know who else to talk to.”
“I talk to mum all of the time,” Gerald hesitates before he continues, “so does Ian.”
The news surprises me. Ian hasn’t opened too much about his mother and it’s a subject I don’t push, given everything that has occurred. “He does?”
“He’s not very open about it and I don’t expect him to be. Our mum’s death really hit him hard, and I suspect a lot harder he wants to admit. We’re both very close to our parents but mum always gave him life advice. Believe it or not, Ian was incredibly shy growing up and barely spoke. Mum’s death forced him to become more outgoing because he became the family representative. Once I married Emma, he gladly gave her that role so he could re-focus on his studies. Graduated from King’s College in business and went to cookery school shortly afterwards. It’s why he’s so brilliant at what he does. He knows about food and business; both are something not a lot of restaurateurs know.”
It explains why Ian never has money in just one pot but several. Diversify your assets. Michael and his long, blonde Madonna ponytail comes into focus and I shake my head to relieve the sight. “And you?” I sniffle. “How did your mum’s death affect you?”
Gerald folds his hands and a few lines appear across his forehead. “I grew up much sooner than I should’ve,” he admits, “I went from worrying about how to get Baby Spice to write me back to worrying about my dad and brother.” He releases a soft grin and I smile as well. “I just knew she would’ve written me back, too!”
I softly chuckle. “I’m sure you still can write to her.”
“Nah, I’m a bigger fan of my wife than any pop starlet,” he reveals. He looks over at me. “Feeling better now, kiddo?”
“Much, thank you.” I crumble the handkerchief. “I’m sure you don’t want this back so I’ll wash it and give it back to you.”
“Oh keep it. I have plenty at home,” he adds, “besides I think a lady should have carry her finest silk handkerchief where ever she goes. You never know when the mood might call for one,” he winks at me and stands. “Shall we join the others? I’m sure dinner will be starting soon.”
“Sure thing,” I stand with him and straighten out my clothing, “um, one last thing, G.”
“Hmm?”
“I know this might sound silly but I just have to ask,” I begin, “do you hate me because I’m with your brother?”
Gerald shakes his head. It seems the question alone annoyed him. “No, I don’t and I never have. But to be honest…?”
“Yes?”
“Ian often brought home these children he called dates just to get a rise out of me and Father. I know why he likes younger women and it’s not because he wants to control them. You and our mum also have that in common; you two were significantly younger than your partners.”
I probably shouldn’t ask… “How much younger?”
“Ten years,” Gerald replies and my stomach bottoms out. “Dad met mum when she was fresh out of high school, though it was some time before they dated and got married. Probably five years or so.”
The parallels between me and Lula Jean are starting to creep me the fuck out. I feel like I’m trying to keep up with a dead woman, whose Jimmy Choos would be incredibly hard to fill.
“Sometimes I do think you might be too good for my brother,” he softly smiles, “just don’t tell him I said that or he’ll rip us both a new one.”
“I won’t,” I smile.
“One last thing,” Gerald briefly closes the door and leans against it. He softly chews his bottom lip before he continues. “I know what you did for us the other day was huge and it was something you didn’t have to but did. I apologize for tricking you into doing it but it was the only way we could trap the assholes.”
It was the first time I’ve heard Gerald curse and it sounds so polite like he was discussing the weather. “Apology accepted.”
“I took the liberty of transferring the five hundred thousand fee into your bank account so you should be receiving it soon. Father also told me he talked to you about whatever you wanted and the offer still stands. Whatever you want, we’ll get for you.”
Diversify your assets, Domi. Now’s your chance… “There is something I might want but I need to do a bit more research first,” I begin, “however, if I do accept the offer I do have a solid condition.”
“Sure,” Gerald shrugs, “whatever you want.”
What I’m about to say is going to start a chain of events that I’m going to end up regretting a year later but Michael’s words shook me to the core and I have no choice. I need Ian to remember he’s messing with Regina Kimbrough’s daughter and I don’t take any bullshit, no matter how big and beautiful the dick is.
If I was put in potential danger because of some Shakespearean drama between families, I need to be well compensated.
Even if it costs me everything. “I don’t want Ian to know about this.”