Woman on Top Page 26

  However, I was glad to see Phinn when he arrived with his twins in their adorable matching outfits. And even though my sister hadn’t responded to my invitation, my mom and dad brought my nephews.

  Finally during the frenzy of the afternoon with Malik and I taking turns to greet guests, Nanny, Tootie, and Sheema arrived.

  “Tiffany,” Nanny said, her face drawn and her voice stern, when I opened the door for them.

  Tootie stood beside her, hiding behind those same black sunglasses trimmed with rhinestones that she’d worn to Wesley’s funeral.

  I’d thought that I’d want to lash out at her, but instead, I felt sorry for her and was even curious as to what had been the basis of their relationship. In some ways she wasn’t much different than me, having found herself lusting after the wrong man. It didn’t bother me so much that Malik had slept with someone outside of our marriage, what bothered me was that it had gone on for years with a woman who he’d presented as a friend. I just couldn’t understand the attraction.

  “Good afternoon, Nanny. Sheema, the kids are in the back, c’mon,” I said, with Sheema running past me toward the family room. Tootie stood talking on her cell phone.

  “Tiffany, I wanna talk to you before I leave here today.”

  “Nanny, it’s your granddaughter’s birthday, I don’t think today is good for that conversation,” I told her, not wanting to sound disrespectful.

  I heard Tootie snicker and I doubted it had anything to do with her phone call.

  “Fine, but listen here, what you did, embarrassing my grandson with that man, well you are no longer welcome in my home for Sunday dinners, or ever!”

  “Nanny, I’m not the only one guilty in all. . .”

  Walking up behind me, Malik interrupted, I’m sure knowing that Nanny would be gunning for me. “Hey, Tootie. Nanny, come on in, let me get your coats,” he said, greeting them. Then simply for show, he put his arm around my shoulders, making it the first time he’d touched me since returning home.

  Finally Tootie spoke, “Hi Tiffany, Malik, what’s up?”

  Swallowing my pride and my anger, I left them at the door and went in the kitchen to check on the caterer.

  Having calmed the kids down enough to gather to get ready to sing Happy Birthday, my Dad went to answer a knock at the door. I wasn’t sure who it could be because everyone who’d been invited was already there. To my surprise, it was my sister, appearing distraught. I prayed she hadn’t come here to cause a scene.

  Instead she came and stood next to me, grabbing hold of my hand while we sang Happy Birthday.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, once Nylah blew out her candles.

  “Not now.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Later,” she mumbled.

  As the caterer began to serve cake, I’d gone into the kitchen to get more dessert plates, and there was Tootie, her back to me, talking and laughing with someone on her mobile, probably making me the brunt of their joke.

  Standing in the doorway, I watched her tapping her foot to the music that played in the other room. She was slightly taller than me, and clearly had thicker curves that overflowed from being stuffed into a pair of black jeans. Malik had been the one always complaining about how crass and unpolished she was. I’d thought she was free-spirited, and a ’take no tea for the fever’ kind of woman. Yet, she was the woman he’d chosen to service his needs, which obviously he didn’t think I was capable of.

  “Oh sorry, Tiffany, you need help with something?” she asked, half-turning, with her cleavage bouncing and bubbling over the V-neck of her sweater.

  “Yeah, I do. I need you to stop screwing my husband,” I told her, not having planned to have those words come out of my mouth.

  “What did you say?” she asked, placing her hand on her big hip.

  “You heard me, I said stop screwing my husband.”

  “Seriously bitch? You gotta lotta fucking nerve with what you did to him,” she said, while rolling her eyes as if I were bothering her.

  “Do you seriously think you’re better than me?”

  After telling someone on the phone she’d call them back, she responded with, “He wouldn’t still be fucking me after all these years, if I wasn’t better. What do you think?”

  “You’ve been warned,” I said, more forcefully, yet still not raising my voice.

  She picked her sunglasses off the counter and put them on top of her headful of silky weave. “You know I ain’t got time for your trick ass, Tiffany. You have no idea who I am.”

  “You know what, you’re right ’cause I don’t even know your name. So why don’t you tell me, who are you, Tootie?” I asked, now placing both hands on my hips.

  She poked out her chest, reared her shoulders back, then began counting off on her fingers. “First off, I’m the one your husband sipped champagne with on New Year’s. I’m the one your husband came to when Wesley was killed. Oh that’s right, he left your dumb ass in Disney World. And you wanna know what else? When your nasty ass picture got plastered all over the Internet, whose bed do you think your husband was laid up in?”

  “And how’d that happen Tootie? How’d that picture get leaked?” I asked, now having moved further into the kitchen.

  Twisting her lips, she said, “Don’t know. Why don’t you ask that ol’ ass man that had you pinned up against the window. But don’t worry about what me and your husband are doing, what we’ve been doing for a long time.”

  “Malik doesn’t want you,” I said, with my voice cracking under the weight of her hurtful words.

  “Girl, you have no idea how your husband likes lying between all this,” she proudly exclaimed, smiling and smacking her thighs for emphasis.

  I couldn’t believe this was happening. I tried to speak calmly, but I felt the bile rising in my throat. “Your obese ass is only good for one thing. You’ll never be in my shoes or have any of this. You’ll never be First Lady,” I stated louder than the ringing in my ears.

  Like a prizefighter, Tootie moved from her corner, her attitude smug, and she was now up in my face, where I could smell the grape soda on her breath, mingling with her cheap Victoria’s Secret lotion.

  “You bougie bitch, yeah, you got a degree and you the pretty girl with the perfect body, but I’m the one that makes your man holla. The only reason I’m not here, in this house, in your place, is because I didn’t want to turn into you! So if you want that ol’ ass Haney, go right ahead ’cause your husband, Mayor Skinner, likes all this jiggling fat ass in his face,” she exclaimed, further humiliating me by jabbing her finger in my chest.

  I’m not sure if it was from the taunting of her words or her finger, when it stabbed my chest, but the next thing I knew, I’d punched Tootie dead in the face and was literally on top of her on the kitchen floor, punching, screaming and crying. Having taken her and myself by surprise, Tootie was no match for me, as she relentlessly flailed her arms in an effort to free herself from my aggression. The only thing that stopped me was Malik wrapping his arms around my waist, lifting me in one full swoop to my feet. That’s when I realized we were no longer alone.

  “Tiffany! What the hell is wrong with you?” Malik yelled.

  “Get off me, let me go, I’m gonna kill this bitch,” I yelled still kicking at her.

  Phinn stood in the doorway barring anyone from coming in as our guests clamored to see what the commotion was about. For her sake, Blu had now come to Tootie’s rescue.

  “Stop, calm down! You’re gonna hurt her,” Malik said, still holding onto me and obviously more concerned about Tootie getting hurt than he was about me.

  “Get her, Malik before I fuck her up!” Tootie stammered, as she gasped for air with Blu standing over her.

  “Tiffany, what are you doing? You’re ruining Nylah’s party!” my husband yelled, his eyes darting from me to Tootie.

  “Look at you, your fat ass can’t even breathe,” I sneered at her, while Blu, struggling to get Tootie back on her feet, crushed the
contents of the children’s gift bags that had spilled to the floor.

  “Tiffany, stop it! Right now!”

  Violently, I whipped around ready to pounce on him as well. “How long, Malik? How long have you been screwing this tramp? Why didn’t you just marry her?”

  Wrinkles of surprise appeared on his forehead, and when his mouth opened, no words came out.

  “No, you listen, I want her, and him,” I pointed to Blu, “the fuck outta my house, NOW!”

  Phinn had managed to push everyone back through the doorway into the family room; among them I noticed was Nanny.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” Malik said, looking from me to Tootie.

  “Yeah right, well Malik, you need to get your wife in check before she get hurt,” Tootie told him as Blu gathered up her shattered cell phone and broken sunglasses.

  This time I laughed and said, “I don’t think so; now why don’t you get your fat ass outta my house.”

  “Bitch, you got lucky. C’mon, Blu.”

  As she passed by me, I told her, “Oh yeah, and as you can see, you ain’t the only bitch from the streets.”

  Alone now in the kitchen with Malik, I demanded to know, “Is Sheema your daughter? Tell me the truth, no more lies, Malik.”

  “No, no I swear to you she’s not, but we have to talk.”

  “You’re a lying bastard.”

  “I’m not lying, we did a DNA test, she’s not mine. Quiet down, please. You’re embarrassing us. It’s our daughter’s birthday.”

  “Well guess what? I don’t care. I’ve known about you and that troll for weeks, now get the hell outta my way!”

  Passing through the family room, parents scrambled out of my way after probably already having texted and posted to social media about the drama unfolding at the mayor’s house, but I no longer cared. Fortunately, the magician had the attention of the kids with a live magic show, but on the couch, there sat Nanny. She pretended to be oblivious to what she’d witnessed, however I didn’t doubt she was a part of Malik and Tootie’s dirty secret.

  Positioning myself directly in front of her, I said, “I hope you’re satisfied, because guess what, you’re not welcome in my house either!”

  Next, I went looking for my sister. I needed to know what was wrong with her. I found Kamille sitting alone in the dining room. “Come with me,” I said, grabbing her up from the chair and pulling her into the laundry room.

  When we were alone, I asked, “What’s wrong, what did he do to you?” already assuming Haney was the cause of her distress.

  “Tiffany, I messed up real bad. I’m sorry,” she said, after taking a seat on the stepladder, while I stood in front of her.

  “Stop with all this apologizing and tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Malik. When he got the picture, he came to me asking if I knew. He was so hurt, I’d never seen him like that. He was crying and I was so angry with you for sleeping with Haney, for ruining your marriage, our family, so I told him everything. I told Malik about before.”

  Her words stunned me. I understood her hurt, but not her betrayal. “This just will not get any better,” I groaned. “Is that why you haven’t taken my calls?”

  She nodded and then, hanging her head, she said, “I read his journal.”

  “Whose journal?”

  “My address was listed at the prison, and this morning a box arrived addressed to me, so I opened it. I’m sorry.”

  “Kamille, please I can’t take hearing the word sorry anymore. That’s all I’ve been saying and hearing for the past month.”

  Before she could go on, the laundry room door opened and Malik appeared, asking, “Can you please let me explain?”

  My frosted look told him more than my words. “Not now, leave us alone,” I said to him before turning to Kamille and saying, “Go on.”

  “Tiffany, please?”

  “What the hell? I said leave us alone.” I slammed the door shut.

  Turning back to my sister, she said, “There were letters he’d received, pictures I’d sent him, and his journal. He planned it all, Tiff. Drawing me in, luring you, and getting Malik to trust him. . .”

  It was hard to understand what Kamille was saying in between her crying and sniffling.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, feeling as if I’d been stuck with a pin, the air quickly deflating from my body.

  “It was you he felt was responsible for bringing him down. He blames you and that’s why all of this is going on. He’s obsessed with you.”

  Her words made my head spin. “Have you talked to him? Does he know you read it?”

  She shook her head. “All of this is my fault. I wanted you to accept him so bad. I don’t even know why. And Mommy and Daddy, I love them. I’m so sorry.”

  I brought her to me, consoling her and telling her, “It’s not your fault. It’s gonna be all right. Have you told Brandon?”

  She nodded and said, “He was home with me when I opened it. He’s going to see him.”

  Knowing that Haney had hurt my sister had me seething. “I promise you, Kamille, he won’t get away with this.”

  “No, Tiff, don’t get involved. Please let Brandon handle him.”

  “It’s too late, he’s gone too far.”

  If anybody was going to talk to Haney, it would be me and there was only one person I could rely on to make that happen.

  I found Phinn on the front porch, flirting with one of the mothers from Nylah’s school.

  “Excuse me, Phinn, can I speak with you?” I asked, then waited until the woman went inside.

  “What is it, Mrs. Skinner?”

  “Can you set up a meeting with Mr. . . .”

  Before I could finish, his eyes turned away from me, out toward the driveway filled with cars, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s caused a lot of trouble for you and the Mayor.”

  “Phinn, please, I’m begging you to do this one last thing for me.”

  After a moment, he said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Chapter 25

  Trick or Treat

  Now that I knew his secret, Malik was the one apologizing and asking to talk so we could work things out. I didn’t even bother to have a conversation with him, I simply didn’t have the energy. So instead, for Nylah, we kept up with our charade of being in a real marriage, especially now that she was excited for Halloween.

  Phinn had done as I asked, and set up a meeting with Haney and me for Halloween night at ten p.m. My plan was to ask him what it would take to get him out of our lives. I had money, and within reason I could pay. The only thing I had to figure out was an excuse to get of the house at that time of night.

  In the meantime, that morning I had an appointment for a physical at Jefferson Hospital with Dr. Goldstein. I hadn’t realize that my last doctor’s visit had been two years ago, so before I could even see the doctor, I had to update my paperwork and answer a battery of questions. Stepping onto the scale, it was clear that I’d lost considerable weight, my blood pressure reading was below normal and the nurse was barely able to draw blood from my shallow veins.

  When I was finally able to sit across the desk from Dr. Goldstein, the concern on his face let me know that whatever my condition, it was serious.

  “Mrs. Skinner, I don’t have to tell you that you’re running on empty. Your blood work shows an extremely low iron count, which doesn’t surprise me and your urine sample reveals that you’re borderline diabetic, which also doesn’t surprise me in your condition, especially with all the recent stress.”

  “Dr. Goldstein, I don’t understand, what specific condition are you referring to?”

  “Oh I’m sorry, you’re pregnant. I’d say you’re about six to eight weeks pregnant, but we’ll know better once we do an ultrasound,” he stated, as if he’d just told me I had the flu.

  Dr. Goldstein’s words stunned me into silence. Being pregnant was the last thing I’d expected to hear. I began hyperventilating, the room grew hot, I unbuttoned
my shirt, but still I felt myself slipping away. Before I could stop the spinning, I’d slipped from the chair onto the floor and fainted.

  “Mrs. Skinner! Mrs. Skinner, would you like me to call your husband?” I heard a voice asking from somewhere in the distance.

  “No, no don’t. I’m all right,” I responded to the nurse who was standing on one side of me. Dr. Goldstein was on the other side.

  “Here, let me help you up,” he said, as he and the nurse sat me up on the floor.

  I drank from the bottle of water she offered, while attempting again to register what he’d told me. They settled me into the chair. The nurse exited the room.

  “Dr. Goldstein, are you sure, I’m pregnant? Could there be a mistake? I mean, I haven’t been sick,” I began to tell him, but then I remembered I had been sick, vomiting several times, and I hadn’t kept track of my period since I’d stopped using birth control. And then, of course, there’d been no protection with Haney.

  “I don’t usually get these things wrong, but you should follow up with your Ob-Gyn. I could do an ultrasound today, unless you’d prefer waiting for when the Mayor can be with you to see what your exact due date is.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t understand, this isn’t good news, not right now,” I told him, when what I really wanted to ask was how soon could a DNA test be performed?

  Sensing my distress, Dr. Goldstein removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, recalling, I’m sure, the racy photo and press coverage of my affair.

  “I see. If you’d like to speak with someone about your options, I can arrange that,” he said, his voice having gone from concern to conspiratorial.

  Grabbing my purse and steadying myself on my feet, I said, “No, I’ll be fine, I just need to get some air. Thank you, and Dr. Goldstein, please don’t tell anyone, not even my husband.”

  With my mind reeling, it was crucial now that I meet with Haney. There had to be a way to make him go away. I had no idea how I’d face Malik, but as of right now, neither of them could know I was pregnant.

  That evening, Malik took the initiative to get Nylah dressed in her princess costume, taking her first to his old neighborhood in Point Breeze and then returning to trick or treat in ours.