Jayla
Sending Khalid off for his trip was a lot harder than it should’ve been, the fact that I had started missing him long before he had even left catching me by surprise since none of what we had going on was ever supposed to be that deep.
But it was that deep. And I knew the sooner I accepted that, the more of him I could have and the happier I would be.
Exactly what I wanted.
I was still on cloud nine from spending the day with him when I finally made it home after stopping by the grocery store on his insistence, locking the door behind me as my phone began to vibrate in the pocket of my hoodie. And while I pulled it out hoping it was a text from Khalid about how his hosting gig tomorrow had been canceled and he was already headed back - selfish, I know - I was more than disturbed to find it was only a call from my mother.
“What does she want?” I thought, tempted to let the call go to voicemail so she could answer that question there without me actually having to talk to her. But against my better judgment, I picked up, closing my eyes as I pressed the phone to my ear.
“Hello.”
Her tone was as deceivingly pleasant as usual when she sang, “Jayla. Hi. How are you, my dear?”
“I’m fine.”
Taking a higher octave, she replied, “Great,” before getting to the real point of her call. “Well, I’m in town for the night visiting your sister, and I thought you might want to join us for dinner. In twenty minutes.”
There were a number of things wrong with what she was presenting. One, she was already in town visiting Jamila and had never even thought to come visit me when I moved? Two, Jamila hadn’t had the good sense to warn me about any of this? And three… “Twenty minutes?”
As if that was no big deal, she only giggled when she said, “Late notice, I know. But after I made the reservation, Jamila wasn’t answering her phone, so I wasn’t sure if we were still on until a few minutes ago. Right before I called you.”
“Can’t say that I blame her,” I muttered away from the phone, bringing the receiver back to my mouth to ask my mother, “Where is the reservation?”
In my head, I had already decided that the distance from my apartment would be the thing that kept me from having to attend on such short notice. But when she answered, “Perry’s Steakhouse,” I literally cringed since that was an easy ten-minute drive at most; something I wouldn’t be able to lie about with Jamila involved.
Jamila. Ugh.
With a sigh, I used the last weapon in my arsenal, telling my mother, “I may be a little late.”
I knew how much she valued punctuality, so I was hoping that would be the thing to get my invitation canceled, or at least a reschedule. But to my surprise, she easily brushed it off. “Oh, that’s no problem. I’d rather you put a little time into your appearance than for you to show up looking all homely.”
“Of course,” I thought with a roll of my eyes before rushing her off the phone with claims that I was going to do just that. But really, I was only rushing her off the phone so I could call Mila and threaten, “I’m going to whoop your ass,” the second she picked up.
“Well, damn. Hello to you too, big sister,” she replied with a little laugh, clearly not too concerned with what I had said.
But I was concerned enough for the both of us when I angrily asked, “Why didn’t you tell me mom was coming to town?”
“Because I didn’t know mom was coming to town until like, ten minutes ago,” she replied in an annoyed tone that told me she was being honest. But it was her honesty that only made me angrier since that meant my mother hadn’t at all practiced those same principles during her phone call.
Since that wasn’t really Mila’s fault, I did my best not to take my attitude out on her when I explained, “She was talking like her visit was something you two had planned together, like this little dinner she just invited me to was the two of you plus me tagging along.”
Instead of being angry like me, Mila only laughed again. “You know your mom, Jayla. She’s always been deceptive as hell. I mean, do you really think I’d be jumping to have dinner with her because I want to? No. I’m only going to keep her from pulling some dramatic ass stunt that ends with us visiting her in the hospital.”
I knew my mother wasn’t above going all out to get our attention, so I could appreciate Mila being willing to take one for the team even before she knew this was a team situation. But now that we were both aware of what was really going on, it only made sense for us to come up with a game plan.
“Well, if we’re really doing this, we need to have a united front. Don’t let her talk you into anything you don’t want to do.”
“Uh… how about you go and give that advice to yourself in the mirror a few times? Cause she’s never had that kind of pull over me. That was all you,” Mila replied, her words stinging a bit since I really couldn’t deny them even though things were so much different now.
I was so much different now.
Instead of defending myself, I pushed out, “Anyway. I’ll have your back, and you’ll have mine. Deal?”
“When has that ever not been the case, Jayla?” she asked with another little laugh as if I was being completely ridiculous. And maybe I was, overthinking what could easily be an innocent dinner with the woman who birthed me.
Yeah right.
“I still think you could’ve given me a heads-up about her being within a fifty-mile radius. Sent me a text, a Bat signal, something,” I expressed, glancing at the clock to see those twenty minutes were already zooming by. And as if she could feel my anxiety brewing, Jamila rushed me off the phone the same way I had done my mother.
“Next time, sissy. See you in a bit.”
&
Stepping into the restaurant only brought back the pleasant memories of the last time I was here when Khalid and I had shared our first business dinner that I left with a file of ideas for his brand and drenched panties.
Knowing how much his career had taken off since then, and how far we had come since then, I could only smile as if he was accompanying me right now. In fact, I wished he was accompanying me right now; especially once Jamila strolled in a few moments after me with Shaq in tow, both of their eyes red as hell as if they had hot-boxed in the parking lot right before they walked in.
“Really, Mila?” I whispered, catching a whiff of the marijuana smell she had clearly tried to cover up with some sort of cheap body spray.
Thanks to her elevated state, she wasn’t at all bothered by my question, only shrugging with a grin when she replied, “You’re outta your damn mind if you thought I was coming in here without some sort of aid. And don’t be rude to my guest.”
“Her guest, as if I had never met Khalid’s cousin before,” I thought with a roll of my eyes before giving him a little wave. “Hi, Shaq.”
His grin was just as goofy when he gave me a nod to say, “What’s up, Jayla? Where’s Khalid? I assumed if she was bringing me along, that he’d be your plus one. But I guess since he’s not here, that means he’s your plus… none.”
The two of them started cracking up laughing at that corny ass joke, only making my anxiety skyrocket now that it was clear Mila was going to be useless when it came to that whole, “united front” thing.
She had her partner. And it wasn’t me.
“He’s traveling to the city for a hosting gig tomorrow night,” I finally answered once they settled down, peeking around the restaurant to see if I could spot my mother.
But even with my attention elsewhere, Shaq still acted offended by my response when he put a hand to his chest to ask, “And he didn’t invite me? He’s fake as hell for that.”
Maybe he was, but I couldn’t invest too much thought into that, instead grabbing Mila by the shoulders to ask a much more important question. “You ready to do this?”
With a little giggle, she replied, “I was born ready…” Biting back her grin as she peeked over to Shaq to add, “And I was already on fish and spaghetti.”
My face instantly scrunched, but Shaq took that as his cue to start Harlem shaking like he was an extra in the, “Let’s Get It” video with G-Dep and Diddy, his dance making Jamila bust out laughing as I used a hushed tone to scold, “Pull it together, you two.” But just when I thought I had the situation under control, my mother appeared from the back of the restaurant with her pageant-ready smile and her arms extended.
“I didn’t know we’d have extra people joining us,” she sang excitedly, pulling Jamila and I into quick hugs before turning to introduce herself to Shaq. “Colleen. Colleen Mitchell-Brooks.”
“Wait, what?” I thought, Jamila wearing the same expression on her face as Shaq happily replied, “Shaquille minus the O’Neal, the height, and the random endorsement deals.”
My mother squealed a laugh at that before finally giving our reaction to her name drop the attention it deserved. “I’m only practicing, girls. Ernest is getting ready to propose soon. I can just tell.”
Ernest.
Her latest millionaire conquest.
During the single time I had interacted with him - right before I left town - he seemed like a decent guy; far too decent to be dealing with someone so shallow like my mother who I knew only saw him for his checkbook. But that was their business, Jamila on the same wave according to her muttered, “Godspeed to that nigga…”
My mother didn’t pay her any mind as she led us to the table she had gotten, my eyebrow piquing when I realized there was space for a lot more than just the two of us she expected. And instead of letting my suspicions linger, I flat out asked, “If you didn’t know we were having extra people, why are there extra chairs?”
With a wave of her hand, she insisted, “Oh, don’t worry about that. Sit, sit, sit.” But that response only made me worry more, even when Mila and Shaq happily plopped down into their chairs.
Now that I was the odd man out, I really had no choice but to join them, something that made my mother’s smile grow even wider when she gushed, “So… how are my girls? Tell me all about this place.”
“It’s a town. With people. Just like the one we came from,” I replied plainly, her sudden interest in what I had going on completely rubbing me the wrong way since I had no idea where it was coming from. But instead of being bothered by my cold shoulder, she kept her smile intact as she directed her attention toward Mila and Shaq.
“Well I’m not one of the girls, and I only live here part-time. But I must say this town is quite exquisite, Mrs. Mitchell-Brooks.”
My eyes squinted at his unusually proper language while Jamila only started giggling, mimicking his tone and pinching her fingers together when she repeated, “Quite exquisite.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised to see my mother had completely bought in to Shaq’s faux-bougie, leaning a little further into the table to ask, “And what is it that you do, Shaquille?”
Of course that was her question, the answer giving her an idea of how much money he made which was really the only thing that mattered to her. But considering I truly had no idea what it was that Shaq did for a living, I was listening just as closely when he answered, “I’m in the pharmaceutical business. A… tester, if you will.”
Now I was chuckling like Jamila, especially once I saw the perplexed expression on my mother’s face. “You test… the drugs? Like, all of them?”
Shaq nodded, shoving a piece of the free bread into his mouth as my mom continued her interrogation. “So you’re really a chemist of sorts? You test the different chemical properties and all that?”
“Nope. I just put them straight into my body. Better than testing them on innocent animals. Am I right?” Shaq said, Mila snorting out a laugh through her nose as I took a sip of water to cover mine while my mother’s face only turned more confused. And before I could break it down for her in layman’s terms - Shaq tested the different products from his weed supplier - a familiar presence joined us at the table.
He was already pulling one of the extra chairs out next to my mother as he explained, “Sorry I’m late. My Uber got caught in traffic.”
“Oh, hell no…” Jamila said before I could, too shocked to speak since Jason was the last person I expected to show up to this little dinner. But with my mother involved, I shouldn’t have been surprised that they had co-conspired a setup situation, especially once I saw her grab his face to kiss him on the cheek in greeting.
“It’s okay, son. We’re just happy you made it.”
That brought my voice back. “Who is this “we” you’re speaking for? Cause it damn sure doesn’t include me.”
With a frown, my mother scolded, “Jayla Denise Anthony, you better watch your tone when you’re talking to me.”
“You mean, Jayla Denise Mitchell?” I corrected, watching her eyes go wide like she was in a horror movie as I heard Shaq quietly repeat to himself, “Denise? She was always my favorite Huxtable. With her fine ass…”
Jamila was a lot more vocal, smacking me on the arm as she asked, “You really changed your name back? Go ‘head, sissy! I ain’t mad at ya.”
Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to really acknowledge her praise, too focused on my mother when she growled, “How disrespectful of you. It was a privilege for your husband to give you such a powerful name.”
“Privilege? I thought that was only for white people?” Shaq whispered to Mila, earning himself an elbow to the arm as I stood up from the table and crossed mine.
With my head cocked to the side, I asked, “Excuse me? My ex-husband, that trash ass human being sitting next to you, cheated on me more times than I can count on my own fingers. But having his last name was a privilege? You’re even crazier than I thought.”
I was already snatching up my things to leave when my mother had the nerve to shout, “He’s a man, Jayla! They all make mistakes.”
“Damn. Tough crowd,” was Shaq’s response as he found more bread to snack on while my lips twisted into a scowl. And since I refused to make a scene like she was, I leaned into the table, getting as close to her as I could when I responded, “See, that’s where you’re wrong, Colleen. Do men make mistakes? Sure. But what Jason did wasn’t a mistake. It was a choice. Multiple choices. So fuck him, and fuck you for ever taking his side in this.”
“Boom. Mic drop,” Shaq added, my narrowed eyes shooting his way with a silent “shut up” that prompted him to put his hands up in defense. But the millisecond it took to do that was just long enough for my mother to gather herself, her tone exasperated when she joined me standing up and asked, “Where did I go wrong with you? How could you possibly be so… misguided?”
I let out a laugh of disbelief. “Misguided? You think I’m misguided? Right now? After literally pushing me to perfection at every turn while also somehow acting like none of it meant shit without a ring on my finger? Now that I have more sense than to believe that bullshit, you think I’m misguided?”
She was surprisingly silent, along with the rest of the table, allowing me to continue, “God forbid a woman successfully stands on her own until someone comes along who can do more than just keep her dripping in designer clothes. Someone who actually complements her lifestyle, someone who remembers how she likes her coffee, someone who makes her genuinely happy.”
“And let me guess, you think you found someone to make you happy?” she asked with an unconvinced expression, one I had no problem meeting with a smile as I thought about my client who had slowly become one of the most important fixtures in my life.
That smile only grew when I answered, “I did. And he’s amazing.”
“That’s my cousin!” Shaq chimed in, making Jamila giggle as I gave a calming little chuckle of my own. But the one my mother contributed was completely sarcastic.
“Ha. You have a lot to learn, girl. You may think he’s all amazing now, but just wait and see what happens the second you turn your back. I’m sure he’ll make my Jason look like a saint.”
“You don’t even know him!” I defended, my anger growing back just that quickly; especially once I saw Jason basking in the protective bubble my mother kept around him.
Naturally, I wanted to bust it the same way I had done when he showed up to my office a day ago. But instead of wasting any more energy on him, I kept my attention on my mother when she replied, “I don’t need to know him to know men. And believe me when I tell you, sweetie. They’re all the same.”
A dozen responses came to mind, but none of them were worth giving to a woman who was so far gone. So instead, I tried that high road thing, throwing the towel in and bowing out as gracefully as I could, even with her commands to come back following me out of the restaurant.
Her words weren’t the only thing following me, Jamila catching up to me the second my foot hit the pavement of the parking lot as she tossed an arm around my shoulder to say, “I love you, and I’m proud of you, and I wanna be just like you when I grow up.”
“Why? So you can argue with mom in the middle of restaurants?” I asked with a sarcastic roll of my eyes, pausing for the cause once I realized I couldn’t remember where I parked.
But I was glad I had stopped walking, able to hear Jamila clearly when she answered, “No. So I can recognize my worth and not accept anything less no matter what anybody thinks; mom included.”
Hearing my little sister speak so proudly about what I considered an all-out shit show softened my stance, the fact that she was able to pull a valuable lesson out of utter chaos making it all feel a little more worth it. But since I really wasn’t in the mood to relive the details just yet, I pulled her into a hug as I told her, “Text me when you make it home, okay? And lay off the weed.”
That made her giggle. “Are you kidding me? After that bullshit, Shaq and I are definitely about to burn through a sack once I can pull him away from the fresh bread basket the waitress just brought out. Or maybe we’ll just share a brownie.”
I was quick to exclaim, “No! Last time Shaq had a brownie, he ended up on the roof.”
“Is that supposed to turn me off from the idea, or…?” Mila trailed teasingly, making me roll my eyes again as I imagined her ending up the same way. But I shouldn’t have been surprised that even after finding a gem of advice at dinner, she was still going to do whatever her heart desired.
In fact, I respected it, changing my advice to offer a simple, “Just be safe, Mila. Please.”
“Always, always,” she replied with a grin before giving a little advice of her own. “Now go find your man.”
Even though he still wasn’t technically my man, I knew exactly who she was talking about, the thought of curling up under Khalid after a night like tonight only making me miss him even more since…, “I already told you, he’s out of town.”
“Welp. Sounds to me like you need to be booking yourself a flight and packing a hoe-vernight bag,” she suggested with a little pat to my shoulder as I ran her word choice back in my head.
Then I repeated it out loud, “Hoe-vernight…” before I busted out laughing. “You play too much, Mila.”
She teasingly pinched my cheek when she replied, “Just wanted to see you smile again, babe. Now go do what you gotta do, and how about you not be all that safe, if you know what I mean.”
Instead of entertaining her with details of how late she was with that idea considering the day Khalid and I had shared, I simply told her, “Bye, Jamila.” Clicking the alarm on my car so that I could actually find it. And once I was secure inside, I made a phone call to the man who still had me satisfyingly sore between the thighs.
He didn’t answer.
And not only didn’t he answer, but it went straight to voicemail after one ring as if he had pressed ignore.
“Must’ve been an accident,” I decided, waiting a few moments and then calling again through the Bluetooth in my car. But this time, it rang all the way through before going to voicemail, the sound of the beep making me jump a little bit as I tried to figure out what to say without being completely awkward.
“Hey, Khalid. It’s... me. Jayla. You won’t believe the night I just had. Call me when you get this. I… miss you.”
Pressing the button on my steering wheel to end the call, I drove the rest of the short drive to my apartment in silence, trying not to think the worst of him not picking up the phone. I mean, he could’ve very well been in a dead reception spot on his little road trip. Or maybe he had arrived a bit earlier than he anticipated and was already asleep after the long day we had. He also could’ve been meeting up with Chance and Londyn and simply forgotten to charge his phone.
Or maybe he’s meeting up with one of the girls from his DMs on Instagram like Jason would.
I wasn’t even sure where that idea had come from, but I did my best to shake it off as I went into my apartment, pouring myself a glass of wine since I hadn’t been at the restaurant long enough to actually order one. But the more I drank, the wilder my thoughts became, my mother’s words playing over and over again in my head like a broken record.
They’re all the same.
After hearing Khalid earnestly express being “only about me”, I knew that couldn’t possibly be true. But when I thought back to the panties he claimed were Londyn’s and woke up early the next morning without a single notification from him on my phone, I worried my mother might’ve been right after all.