How to Lose a Husband Page 4

  “Kenya!” Stacks shouted. Kenya threw the purse at Stacks and jumped on British punching her. British lost her footing and Kenya got in several quick jabs to the face before Stacks could get her off. British got some punches in too, but Kenya had the upper hand in the surprise attack.

  “What the fuck is this, Stacks?” Kenya was breathing heavily.

  “It’s not what it looks like!”

  “Yeah, I bet! Niggas always say that dumb shit! You got this fucking whore who pops up on the blogs with you dancing butt-ass-fucking-naked in my kitchen, cooking for your black ass! How is that not what it looks like?”

  “Listen, Baby.”

  “Baby?” both Kenya and British replied in unison even though his comment was directed to Kenya.

  “Yeah, bitch…he said Baby!” Kenya yelled. Even in a 10,000 square foot home, Stacks was sure her voice could be heard outside. The women lunged at each other again. Stacks knew British would listen, so he picked up Kenya and turned his back to British blocking the hits.

  “Go upstairs, British!” He yelled, Kenya’s arms were flailing in the air. “Kenya!” He shouted letting her go.

  “Why…how…how could you do this to me? Seven years…two kids! Word on the street is you tiptoeing with this bitch and I’m denying everything. You got me out here looking like a damn fool! I’m telling people Stacks ain’t doing shit! And yo’ slimy ass is bold enough to have this bitch in my goddamn house? My house Stacks! Probably fucking her in my bed! What the fuck is wrong with you?” She slapped him. Her face was wet from tears.

  “Baby, I’m sorry, she just…” He reached out for her hand. British, now clothed. Stood at the top of the stairs where she could see, but not be seen. She didn’t like what she saw. Here was the opportunity to get her man.

  “Stacks…I guess you didn’t tell her about the baby we just lost!”

  “Baby?” Kenya said breathlessly. “There…there…there was a…a baby?”

  “Kenya,” Stacks looked so dejected.

  “There is nothing you can say to me right now Stacks, nothing!” Kenya marched back into the kitchen and picked up a knife. She ran around the other side of the kitchen island into the living room and started going absolutely ballistic. British watched as Kenya sliced up the couch, threw vases and picture frames across the room. She slammed the heavy coffee table on its side cracking it. The living room looked like a war zone.

  “Stop Kenya! Stop,” Stacks yelled.

  “You ‘round here making babies with bitches and shit?” Kenya paused her emotional redecorating. Her breathing was still heavy. She seemed even angrier than when she first started.

  “She’s fucking lying!”

  “Really nigga? I don’t know who to believe. Her triflin’ ass or your cheatin’ ass!”

  “Put her out of this bitch right now! Right now!” Stacks took two steps toward the staircase. Kenya started laughing. “Yell! That bitch can hear you! YELL! HEY HOE, GET OUTTA MY DAMN HOUSE!” Kenya sounded almost like she was singing. Silence. British came down the stairs taking her precious time.

  “Stacks, you gonna let her talk to me like that?”

  “Let…me?”

  “It’s about time you knew what time it really is,” British bossed up.

  “I know what time it is. I’m done with this shit!”

  “C’mon Kenya!” Before Stacks could even get her name out, she was halfway down the driveway into the waiting car service. He ran out behind her, but the truck screeched off. Stacks kept running and waving…the truck kept driving into the distance. Stacks ran until the truck bent the corner.

  He went back into the house, upset with tears in his eyes. British wasn’t expecting that reaction. Stacks grabbed his keys and left. She called me, “Lola! This bitch Kenya came all the way out here, fucked some shit up and left!”

  “Whaaat?” I whispered into the phone. She called me at work with the tea. It was juicy, but I was sad for Kenya. Everything was out in the open now. Looked like British was finally going to get what she wanted.

  Hours later, Stacks went back to the house and plopped down on the floor. British had cleaned up as well as she could considering. She sat next to him.

  “What’s going through your mind?”

  “My family. My kids.”

  “We can start our own family.” Stacks looked at her with only pain in his eyes.

  “Not right now British.”

  “Why not? We talked about being together. We almost started a family. We love each other. What’s the problem? You didn’t want her to find out, but she did anyway. It’s out there now.”

  “I love you both.”

  You would have thought that she’d finally got the picture. British could see exactly where she stood with him. A clearly painted picture. He had the perfect opportunity to transition into a relationship with her and it wasn’t happening.

  Stacks slept in one of the four guest bedrooms. British had the entire California King to herself. And it felt like it, too. Laying in that huge bed, in such a massive room made her feel cold and lonely. There was such a stark contrast from the way she felt waking up the day before.

  “Did you see this shit?” Stacks walked into the room holding his phone out to her. There was a post on CelebMail’s page, BREAKING NEWS: Rapper Stacks and Wife Kenya Headed For Splitsville! The headline was at the top of a picture of Stacks and Kenya holding hands, except there was a computer graphic zig zag breaking the couple apart. Underneath the main headline was a smaller one, Kenya Leaves Stacks After Catching Him In Houston Home With Homewrecking Thot British!

  British didn’t have the heart to read the article to see if there were any other truths to the story. Her eyes darted to the comments and saw the people were dogging her out! The same way they used to dog out Kenya about being a housewife and not being pretty enough, they were now dogging out British and being sympathetic to Kenya. The comments referenced all the guys British had been rumored to sleep with. They were naming names.

  She couldn’t take it. Stacks started reading the comments out loud. Every time he saw a comment with another man’s name, he paused and looked at her. British told him to stop, yelled at him to stop, then left the room. His spirit grew more and more crushed. He looked at her as if to say, “This is what I cheated on my girl for?”

  “Damn, at least Kenya don’t have a fucked up reputation!” He yelled behind her. She slammed the door. Now, British saw what it felt like to be on the other side of the coin. She got to see first-hand how Sade, Kennedi and Stacks felt when their personal lives were broadcasted for the world to see. Everything would be under a microscope now.

  She went through a period of depression. Added with the disappointment of the miscarriage, my girl was living in the twilight zone. British was like a lost puppy. Her pride was hurt, her heart was broken. Tears stained her satin pillowcases every night. She kept waiting for a phone call or a text and none came. She was back trolling his Instagram, as well as Kenya’s, but their pages were silent.

  I tried to get her to focus on her designs. Her career had been neglected, but was not so far gone that with a bit of focus it couldn’t be revived. Now, her clients were going to be looking at her crazy. She already knew she was going to lose devoted customers who were still bringing her good money. Why would they want to be associated with a homewrecker? Why would they want her near their men?

  The day British had been waiting for finally came. Lying down in her bed, staring at the TV, Stacks called. Her first instinct was to grab the phone and sit up in the bed so she could speak clearly, then she thought maybe the sexy voice would be better and slithered back down into the warmth of the sheets. Better yet, she did not want him to think she was waiting for him and he still had it like that. All of this came before the third ring.

  “Yeah,” she said as blandly as possible.

  “I need to see you.” Stacks spoke and his voice sounded broken.

  “What’s wrong?” Her guard was instantly brought down. />
  “I just…I…I need to see you.”

  “It’s been more than a month since I heard from you. No calls, no texts. You might as well stay wherever the fuck you at.”

  “Lemme explain…” She wanted to hear what he had to say, but she had played this moment in her head over and over. You know how it is when you are on the outs with someone and you wonder what’s going to happen. You think about the next time you see them, what are you going to do? The next time they call, are you going to answer or not? She had already bled out so much of the hurt that she could have left him alone and kept trudging forward. But the heart wants what the heart wants.

  British tousled with talking to him in her mind, because she had already decided that whenever that moment came, he was not going to get the best of her. She hung up the phone. She felt like he just hung her out to dry. But hearing his voice did something to her. She missed him. Obviously, if he was calling her, he was ready to come back and create a life with her. Right? The next time Stacks called, she answered the phone, “Come over.”

  He had to have been sitting in the parking lot of her townhouse, that fool was ringing the doorbell in 60 seconds flat. She opened the door to a fragmented man. He knew he could be himself around her. Stacks stood in the doorway without all the regalia that usually came with Stacks the artist. No big chains, no shades, no fancy clothes, just Stacks.

  He sat on the couch, slumped over, halfhearted. British sat down and put his head in her lap. He said he missed his wife. Stab! Kenya was not responding to him in any way. Stab! He didn’t know what to do to get her back. Stab! Each sentence was a dagger in her heart.

  He said his heart belonged to two women, but he was happy keeping British in the backfield. He could never be with her now after what happened. He didn’t know she came with that kind of baggage.

  In British’s case, she couldn’t lose a husband, because she couldn’t get one. She had a loose reputation, a good number of industry dudes had fucked her and Stacks walked into the situation viewing her as the side chick. Why would he want a woman who played her position on the side and knew she was getting sloppy seconds in his time, attention, and truth? She damaged herself as a woman by giving her body so freely to any and every baller who wanted a piece.

  She watched her friends get married, have children and build their families all around her while she toyed with time. Everybody around her was finding their happiness, settling into life. British was trying to overlook the obvious, that she was wasting her time and energy on someone who didn’t want her the way she wanted him.

  That brings us to where we are now. I’m staring at British who is looking over the picturesque views of the water crashing against the lush green sides of the mountainous islands, but homegirl’s mind is nowhere near this paradise.

  She is thinking of how much she loves Stacks and can’t break away from him. He’s making it easy for her by not responding to her and staying clear of her. Maybe this trip, being away from the world and him, will offer her some clarity.

  Everybody has a past, but she doesn’t know her worth.

  SADE

  we arrived at Virgin Gorda, the island where we were staying, we had to take a taxi van to our villa. It was basically a truck with the bed covered to protect us from the elements. There were cushioned rows of seats and our luggage went in the middle. This mode of transport was very islandy, very different. The locals were waving and smiling, it felt like we were home. Everyone there seemed so warm and friendly. At the villa, we were met with a personal butler, maid and chef. It was made very clear that they would see to our needs.

  The villa only had five rooms which meant somebody was going to have to bunk. We would figure all of that out later. As the butler and maid unloaded our belongings, the chef walked us through the dining area and living room area past an invisible wall.

  The kitchen, dining and living area were all one great room with views on three sides. The invisible wall was a plate of glass that led out onto the pool deck which then led out toward the ocean. If we wanted to sit inside the living area, we could with the invisible wall up to enjoy the view or put it down to catch the breeze and be able to walk right outside.

  He showed us the hammocks and pool chairs, then invited us to a delectable chilled, coconut drink. Good thing it was coconut because I’m allergic to pineapples. I took that thing right down, I had a feeling it was going to sneak up on me.

  “This place is beautiful!” Sade stated the obvious.

  “Yeah, traveling, you have to be careful with accommodations. You nailed it Kennedi!” Madison said. “Well worth my last minute requested time off!” We clinked glasses to that.

  “You chicas can go tour the place. This room, right here by the kitchen is mine.” Sade took the first room. She didn’t care what it looked like, how it was laid out or anything. She just wanted to be close to the food. It was classic Sade. She ate…and ate…and ate…and never gained an ounce. She only worked out once a year and looked amazing. Yeah, she was that girl.

  I met Sade years ago at Kennedi’s house. She was having a moment and needed to talk; Kennedi and I were already having a girl’s pow wow. We’ve been cool ever since. Sade was born with a resting bitch face. Seriously. She didn’t give a fuck about anything. Her skin was perfect, teeth perfect and her lips were juicy. She got her beautiful cocoa complexion from her mother. Her mother, even in her late fifties had beautiful brown skin you wanted to just bathe in.

  They came from money. Not her mother, but Sade did. Her dad was an R&B legend. His hey-day was back in the 60’s and 70’s with classics that can hit the radio right now and everybody in the room would bust out singing. Tone deaf and all. He was a lead singer and did what they all did back in the day, start out in a group then went solo. His solo efforts sprang him to a sort of super-stardom. Lonnie Dorsett was the man. He still comes out of hiding for important shows, like performing on the Grammys and Oscars, as well as the occasional movie premier.

  Sade’s mom was his second wife. They had four children, and he had one or two in between. He wrote a song called “Claws” saying he had his claws in his woman and wouldn’t let her go. Forty some years later, they are still married.

  Anyhoo, Sade came up in the industry. It took more than a good looking face or a nice body to get her attention. She needed to see money, the flash of it all. Finding someone who had money, was easy on the eyes and with personality was hard to find. Until Drew came into the picture. Drew swept Sade off of her feet.

  His hair had waves for days and dark chocolate skin against a pearly white smile that looked like it was manufactured perfectly for him. He always swore he never had braces or work done. He was a rookie receiver in the NFL, so you already know that body was ridiculous. Being a second round draft pick wasn’t half bad, but it was his charisma kept his face in the cameras during the season.

  His cocky attitude is probably what got Sade’s attention. He was fine enough to make her panties melt! And they did, right off. They were making out when Drew used his hand to massage her down, you know where. By this point, she’s like 19, 20. She had been fingered before, but never took it to the next step.

  “Why are you so tense?” Drew asked, laying between her legs. He was trying to do his thang, but his little man was going nowhere.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your body seems so rigid. Loosen up, Baby.”

  “Drew,” she hesitated, “I’ve never done this before.”

  “I bet.”

  “I’m serious.” He could tell by the tone in her voice. She was not laughing; her eyes looked right through him in all seriousness. “I’m a virgin.”

  “NO! Not the ‘V’ word. Oh, nah, man,” he tried to retreat. She grabbed him and stared at him in his eyes, then kissed him gently.

  “I want this.”

  “Are you sure?” Of course she was sure. By that point, the two had been on three or four months’ worth of dates, claiming to be boyfriend and girlfriend. She had
already stepped out and gotten herself an acting career. Being a big girl meant that she had to do big girl things. Sade grabbed his ass and nudged him in the right direction.

  He kissed down her body, knowing exactly what to do to loosen her up. It worked. After that, Sade’s nose was wide open. Drew could do no wrong. She was in love. As far as she was concerned, she was lucky enough to have found what her parents found early. They were soul mates. They saw each other as much as possible and had lots of fun when they were together.

  Then Drew’s fine, panty dropping ass told Sade he was on to the next. He gave her the old, “It’s not you, it’s me,” line. Sade was crushed. What she experienced with him was great. It was like being on top of the world. When they were together, nothing else mattered…for her and it seemed that way for him, too.

  While he moved on with his life, she moved onto her parents’ couch. Any good mom knows the signs of heartbreak. Her mom was no different. Ms. Connie was good to pop in comedy DVD’s and keep the kitchen stocked with ice cream, caramel syrup and sprinkles. They spent about two weeks pigging out, going shopping, eating, laughing and crying. One weekend, Ms. Connie invited her other daughter for support. Sade’s sister was great in helping to keep the mood light and make jokes about the matter. She pointed out every wrong about Sade’s ex.

  Of course, Sade didn’t bounce right back after those couple weeks, but she was much better off than she would have been. Sade knew she needed to be distracted to turn the tide. She already had a name, partly on her own merit in addition to being associated with her dad. So she used that to her advantage. She gravitated toward other kids in her same situation who had a little more to offer. More fame, more money, more prestige. This strategic move put her closer to becoming the household name she wanted to be.

  Every guy she brought home was an industry guy. Ms. Connie harped about giving her heart to a man who just wanted to use her for who she was or wanted to get between them legs. Sade was beautiful, with a little pedigree, a little name and a little money. Coming from nothing, she was an attractive package. Most of the dudes she took a liking to were the bad boys…the rappers, the singers, the actors, the ball players. All of whom had a chip on their shoulders.