Millionaire Wives Club (23 page)

“We’re in the process of separating.”

“Well, that may be it, or it could be something else. I would like to keep her here for a seventy-two-hour observation.”

“Seventy-two-hour observation?” Kendu said, taken aback.

“I’m concerned that Mrs. Malik may have had a nervous breakdown.”

Silence.

“I would like to commit her for seventy-two hours, but after that she has to be in agreement to stay, otherwise we can’t keep her.”

“Well, what should I do? Should I tell her?” Kendu asked. “No, we gave her some medication that will make her sleep. It should’ve already taken effect. So if you’d like you can go home
and come back a little later. If something changes one of the nurses will give you a call.”

“No,” Kendu said, “I would like to stay with her, at least for a few hours, if that’s okay?”

“Okay,” the doctor agreed, “for a few hours.”

Kendu walked into Evan’s room and she was sleeping. He sank down into the chair beside her and wondered if his rejection of her had made her crazy. It was true he wanted to leave her, but he didn’t want to leave her in pieces. He could feel the fading heat from the sun going down as he looked at Evan’s face, studied the slight smile she wore, and wondered what she was dreaming about.

“T
ell the camera how you feel today, Chaunci,” Carl said as he pointed the camera at her.

Before Chaunci could comment, Bridget said, “I want some emotion, some tears and drama. Curse the judge”—she flung one arm in the air—“curse Idris”—she flung the other—“and plead for us to understand that you are a good mother.”

Chaunci didn’t have it in her to cuss out Bridget, especially knowing it would get her nowhere. She actually hated that the cameras were following her around today and that the crew didn’t see this as a true invasion of her privacy. But then again, what privacy?

She watched Idris walk up the block dressed in a camel-colored two-piece Versace suit, looking as if he were headed for a game he planned to win.

Chaunci smiled at Carl. “I feel fine. I’m sure the judge will see”—she looked Idris dead in the eyes—“that I love my daughter and that Idris has no right to come along demanding things.”

Carl turned to Idris, who was passing them by. “You have anything to say?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Chaunci needs to learn to forgive.” And he
walked past the stone lion statue and into the courthouse. His smooth swagger lingered on the concrete steps behind him.

Chaunci walked into the courthouse and was greeted by her attorney, Sarah Washington, who walked over to her and smiled. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“I have an offer for you that Mr. Lawson’s attorney presented to me this morning.”

“Is it one saying that he will go away?” Chaunci tapped her three-inch heels as she caught Idris staring at her.

“No, he’s not going away,” Sarah assured her. “He’s put in his offer for child support—”

“I don’t want his money.”

“Hear me out, Chaunci.”

“Sarah, I’m serious.”

“Listen to me. I am your attorney, and though I will present to the court what your wishes are, it is my responsibility to give you the best advice. Mr. Lawson wants a relationship with his daughter, and the only way we could have made him go away was if the DNA test had come back negative, which it didn’t. So let’s consider the plea they’re offering: joint custody, twenty thousand a month in child support, the first meeting at your house or a mutual place that is comfortable for the child, every other weekend during the basketball off-season, and one weekend a month during on-season. Alternate holidays.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“My daughter doesn’t know him. Now I’m supposed to dump her off at his house? No, no way.”

“What do you think the judge is going to give you?”

“I’ll take my chances,” Chaunci said, as the bailiff walked into the hall to announce that court was now in session.

“All rise,” the bailiff said as the judge walked in. “Judge Randall presiding.”

“You may be seated,” the judge said. “We have here Lawson versus Morgan on the matter of joint custody, child support, and visitation. Have the parties come to any type of agreement?”

Idris’s attorney looked toward Sarah and Chaunci. “No, Your Honor,” Sarah said. “We have not.”

“Are you all aware of the paternity test results?”

“Yes,” Sarah said. “We’ve received the positive results.”

“Fine,” the judge said. “Now, let’s hear the arguments.”

“My client wishes to see his daughter,” Idris’s attorney said to the judge. “We were hoping to come to an agreement, but it seems that Ms. Morgan simply wishes for my client to go away so that she can go on pretending that he doesn’t exist.”

“And your reason for not accepting the offer?” The judge looked to Sarah.

“With all due respect, Your Honor, Mr. Lawson doesn’t know his daughter. As a matter of fact, he paid Ms. Morgan three hundred dollars to have an abortion. He has never even seen this child, and I’m certain the court understands that Ms. Morgan does not feel comfortable handing her child over to Mr. Lawson, who essentially is a stranger, Your Honor.”

Idris’s attorney rose from his seat. “Your Honor, my client thought that Ms. Lawson had terminated the pregnancy, as this was their agreement.”

“Not so, Your Honor,” Sarah interrupted.

“Allow me to finish, counselor.” Idris’s lawyer paused. “However my client now knows that he has a six-year-old daughter and he wants a relationship with her. He is in no way seeking full custody. He simply wants to know his daughter, and I think, Your Honor, for a child not to know her father can be likened to cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Not if that same father paid for this child to be medical waste when her mother was pregnant,” Sarah stood up and said.

The judge cleared his throat as he looked through the file. “Well, we certainly have a situation here. The child is six years old,
six years that Mr. Lawson has missed, however ironic it is. It is also six years that he never would have had, had Ms. Morgan terminated the pregnancy as he wished and apparently paid for back then. It is always unfortunate that children are caught in the middle of these situations. It is my hope that one day you two people will reach an agreement where the court does not have to be involved. However since we are not there today, the court orders as follows:

“Considering the paperwork submitted on Mr. Lawson’s finances, the court orders child support in the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars a month. Joint custody to be awarded. Physical custody to remain with the mother, Ms. Morgan, and visitation awarded to Mr. Lawson, visits every other weekend and alternate holidays. Seeing that today is Wednesday, he should be properly introduced to his daughter. I can appoint a mediator if one is needed.”

“I don’t want a mediator,” Chaunci whispered to Sarah. “What he just ordered is bad enough.”

“Your Honor, we will not require a mediator, providing Mr. Lawson is in agreement. My client is willing to cooperate.”

“Wonderful. Therefore the court orders that the first weekend visit take place this week on Friday. Is there a need for the court to schedule the holidays, counselors? Or can your clients come to that agreement?”

“They will come to an agreement,” the counselors said.

The judge banged his gavel. “Court dismissed.”

For the first time since Chaunci made up her mind that she could handle being a single mother, she felt truly helpless.

Kobi may have resembled Idris, but Kobi Sarai Morgan was Chaunci’s baby and had been since the day she was born and Chaunci placed her on her breasts and promised her the world. Idris had walked away a long time ago, and now suddenly this motherfucker who didn’t even know Kobi’s middle name, her favorite color, or her favorite food, hadn’t attended one parent-teacher
conference and probably thought “PTA” was a fancy term for a three-point play—now had the audacity to demand a space in Kobi’s life. And to add insult to injury, the law was on his side.

Chaunci cleared her throat and rose to her feet. She steadied herself by placing her hand on the corner of the cherrywood table. She fought back the tears and made up her mind that if she was going to cry it would be in the still of the night when no one was there but God. “Sarah,” she said to her lawyer and nodded her head good-bye. She walked over to Idris, but before she could speak he said, “I don’t want to hurt you, Chaunci, but I need to know my baby.”

Chaunci started to level his ass, but then again she refused to give him the satisfaction, so instead she walked past him and out of the building.

Carl, waiting outside, had not been allowed into the courtroom. Pointing the camera at Chaunci he said, “Tell us what happened.”

The lump in Chaunci’s throat weighed heavily on her tongue. She relaxed her shoulders and smiled; too much of her business had already unfolded on camera. “I’ve never been opposed to Kobi having a father. And as long as Mr. Lawson holds to his side of the agreement I won’t have to kill him.” Chaunci batted her eyes and smiled. She knew she’d just spewed a terrorist threat, but fuck it.

She glanced at Idris, who was walking down the stairs, and then she sauntered toward her black town car, where her driver was standing with the door open.

“No more changing outfits, Kobi,” Chaunci said as she sat on the soft pink chaise in Kobi’s walk-in closet. “You look fine.”

Kobi had taken the news about Idris a lot better than Chaunci had imagined. Chaunci had always thought that there would be a long discussion followed by a series of questions and perhaps some
tears, but it didn’t happen that way. When Chaunci told Kobi who Idris was and that he would be coming over in a few hours, all Kobi said was, “Okay. What should I wear?”

Kobi twirled around in her chocolate and mint green dress with chocolate leggings underneath and matching ballerina shoes. “I just want my daddy to say, ‘You look beautiful!’ And then I want him to say, ‘I love you this much!’” She held her hands out as wide as they could go.

Chaunci arched her eyebrows. Her friends who were single mothers had always told her that no matter how much they struggled and sacrificed, all their children’s father had to do was spin around, and voilà, in their children’s eyes he would appear to be Daddy of the Year. And looking at Kobi, Chaunci saw the scenario unfolding before her eyes.

Chaunci peeped at the clock. Idris was already an hour late. Careful not to let Kobi sense her worry, Chaunci said, “Your daddy already told me that he thought you were the prettiest girl in the world!” Chaunci rose from the chaise. “I’m going in the other room for a moment, okay?”

Twenty minutes later and against her mother’s advice, Kobi had changed her clothes again. Then she went into the kitchen, where Chaunci was sitting at the dining room table.

“Okay, Mommy, time to make my daddy a meal.”

“A meal?” Chaunci looked surprised. “It’s kind of late to cook something now. Your father should be here any minute.”

“No, it’s not, Mommy. Rice Krispies Treats and hot cocoa only takes a few minutes.”

Considering that the time was steadily ticking by, Chaunci gave in, hoping that Kobi would be too distracted to notice how late it was getting.

An hour after the Rice Krispies Treats and hot cocoa were done, Chaunci was clearly upset. She hated to look at Kobi’s glassy eyes because she knew it was only a matter of minutes before she, herself, broke down and cried. “I’m sorry,” Chaunci said to Kobi,
not knowing what else to say. Her single-mother friends had also told her such a moment would come.

“It’s okay, Mommy. He might still come.”

“You know it’s late,” Chaunci said, her heart dying in her chest. If Idris had been standing next to her she would surely slap the shit out of him. “I think you should change into your pajamas.”

“No, Mommy.” Kobi shook her head. “I want him to see how pretty I look.”

“You wanna go out for some pizza?”

“Pizza? When we made all of these Rice Krispies Treats?”

“Okay” was all Chaunci could say. It was one thing for her to hurt, but it was a whole other thing for her baby to feel the pain.

Kobi went into her bedroom, and Chaunci picked up the phone. She was determined to find this motherfucker tonight. As Idris’s cell phone started to ring, she heard a knock on the door, and someone calling her name. She hung up the phone and walked toward the door. She knew it was Idris as he pounded again.

“The bell and the phone both work,” she said, opening the door.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I did some shopping in Jersey”—he held up a few shopping bags—“telling myself I was doing a good thing. I didn’t know if I should bring something or what. And then on the way back there was tons of traffic and a really bad accident. I forgot my cell phone at home and I had no way of reaching you. So I know I’m late, but I’m here. I’m sorry, I am.”

Chaunci looked up at him, and she hated that Kobi looked so much like him. “My baby cried for you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Look,” she said, closing the door behind him, “I don’t care if this is court ordered. If you are going to be in and out of her life, making promises you can’t fulfill, or, worse, just one day disappearing, which we both know you’re capable of, then leave now, please.”

“Hear me.” He grabbed her hands. “Once again, I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere. Where is my daughter?”

“In her room.” Chaunci led Idris to Kobi’s room, where the little girl was sitting up on her bed but had fallen asleep.

“Kobi,” Idris called her name softly, and she opened her eyes.

“My daddy,” she said, looking at her mother for confirmation. Chaunci nodded her head and Kobi started screaming, “Oh my God!” She looked at her mother. “Do you see my daddy?”

“Yes.” Chaunci smiled as Idris picked Kobi up and hugged her tightly.

“Daddy’s sorry,” Idris said. “I ran late. You forgive me?”

“Yes, Daddy!” She hugged him around his neck. “Well,” Chaunci said, “I’ma go in the other room and read over some articles.”

A few hours passed and it was nearing midnight. Kobi and Idris read books, watched movies, and she filled him in on everything in hers and her mother’s life, including answering his questions about why nobody liked Edmon. Eventually she ended up falling asleep in his arms, and he picked her up and placed her in the bed.