As usual she’d slept in her light brown birthday suit. She was half awake, thinking about how she needed to wash her hair and stop by the cleaners and buy some groceries for when Taj spent the night on Wednesday and pay the car insurance and talk to her attorney again about her greedy stepmother Nancy and the case involving loony Ramada. Milan’s brain was in overdrive.
She rolled onto her back and opened her eyes, looking at the tray ceiling. She began her daily PC muscle exercises, or Kegels, and tried to stop her mind from racing. Her home phone rang. The cordless was on the dresser and not on the charger on the nightstand. She jumped up and took long steps, reaching over to grab it before the third ring, noticing that the call was blocked. “Hello.”
“Let me talk to Lavender.” The all-too-familiar voice was stern and rushed.
Milan’s eyebrows dipped. “You know what, Ramada? You need to learn to say hello when you call.”
“I’ll call back. Let it go to voice mail.”
“You can just go ahead and call him on his cell, that’s what you can do. Don’t you ever call here again after you had the nerve to—”
Click.
Pissed off, upset, and disgusted, Milan’s middle finger wanted to press redial and her mouth wanted to take over from there, using the words
bitch, ho, freak, psycho, and fucking piece of stank ass shit.
But Milan’s better judgment took over. Her man’s baby’s mama, who had just filed bogus charges, already knew not to call. Especially Milan’s home. And so, Milan put the cordless on the cradle where it belonged and headed to the bathroom. She snatched on the light and closed the door. The phone rang again, four times, and then stopped. It was all she could do not to tackle the phone and beat Ramada to a pulp with her words.
Minutes later she crawled back into bed and brought the purple covers to her chin. But she couldn’t help but grab the cordless, dial her own number, and enter her password. She held the phone with a firm grip.
“Lavender, this is your one and only son’s mom giving you a heads-up to let you know that I have filed a petition to increase the child support amount since you’re rollin hard enough to co-own a club and didn’t tell me. Hell, you said you lost all of your boxing money in bad investments. Liar. Anyway, don’t say I didn’t tell you.”
Click.
Milan pressed the end button and pushed the phone back onto the charger just as Lavender walked into the room looking sweaty and tired.
“Hey,” he said. He spoke while tossing his gym bag and walking straight to the dresser, rummaging through the one bottom drawer that contained his underwear, pajama bottoms, and some white tees. He grabbed a shirt and threw it onto the bed and approached Milan as she lay back with her head propped up upon two boudoir pillows against the headboard. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Good morning.”
She gave a quick frown. “Morning. Lavender, you need to tell Ramada to stop calling my house again. It makes no sense to me that she would call repeatedly other than to piss me off. I know you didn’t give her the number, but she got it anyway. Maybe from when Taj called from here but the bottom line is she uses it. And for her to have the nerve to call after what happened the other night is just insane. I’m gonna have to change my number now.”
Lavender gave a concerned frown. “What happened?”
Milan tucked the sheet under her arms and then used her hands to accentuate her frustrations. “She just called and I told her to call you on your cell. But she had the nerve to tell me to hang up so she could leave a message. I’m telling you, Lavender. I’m about fed up with her. You need to check her.” Milan grabbed the phone, dialed voice mail, entered the code, and held it out toward him. “Listen to this damn message she left. Press one.”
Lavender took the cordless, pressed one, and sat on the edge of the bed, bending down to take off his
She rolled onto her back and opened her eyes, looking at the tray ceiling. She began her daily PC muscle exercises, or Kegels, and tried to stop her mind from racing. Her home phone rang. The cordless was on the dresser and not on the charger on the nightstand. She jumped up and took long steps, reaching over to grab it before the third ring, noticing that the call was blocked. “Hello.”
“Let me talk to Lavender.” The all-too-familiar voice was stern and rushed.
Milan’s eyebrows dipped. “You know what, Ramada? You need to learn to say hello when you call.”
“I’ll call back. Let it go to voice mail.”
“You can just go ahead and call him on his cell, that’s what you can do. Don’t you ever call here again after you had the nerve to—”
Click.
Pissed off, upset, and disgusted, Milan’s middle finger wanted to press redial and her mouth wanted to take over from there, using the words
bitch, ho, freak, psycho, and fucking piece of stank ass shit.
But Milan’s better judgment took over. Her man’s baby’s mama, who had just filed bogus charges, already knew not to call. Especially Milan’s home. And so, Milan put the cordless on the cradle where it belonged and headed to the bathroom. She snatched on the light and closed the door. The phone rang again, four times, and then stopped. It was all she could do not to tackle the phone and beat Ramada to a pulp with her words.
Minutes later she crawled back into bed and brought the purple covers to her chin. But she couldn’t help but grab the cordless, dial her own number, and enter her password. She held the phone with a firm grip.
“Lavender, this is your one and only son’s mom giving you a heads-up to let you know that I have filed a petition to increase the child support amount since you’re rollin hard enough to co-own a club and didn’t tell me. Hell, you said you lost all of your boxing money in bad investments. Liar. Anyway, don’t say I didn’t tell you.”
Click.
Milan pressed the end button and pushed the phone back onto the charger just as Lavender walked into the room looking sweaty and tired.
“Hey,” he said. He spoke while tossing his gym bag and walking straight to the dresser, rummaging through the one bottom drawer that contained his underwear, pajama bottoms, and some white tees. He grabbed a shirt and threw it onto the bed and approached Milan as she lay back with her head propped up upon two boudoir pillows against the headboard. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Good morning.”
She gave a quick frown. “Morning. Lavender, you need to tell Ramada to stop calling my house again. It makes no sense to me that she would call repeatedly other than to piss me off. I know you didn’t give her the number, but she got it anyway. Maybe from when Taj called from here but the bottom line is she uses it. And for her to have the nerve to call after what happened the other night is just insane. I’m gonna have to change my number now.”
Lavender gave a concerned frown. “What happened?”
Milan tucked the sheet under her arms and then used her hands to accentuate her frustrations. “She just called and I told her to call you on your cell. But she had the nerve to tell me to hang up so she could leave a message. I’m telling you, Lavender. I’m about fed up with her. You need to check her.” Milan grabbed the phone, dialed voice mail, entered the code, and held it out toward him. “Listen to this damn message she left. Press one.”
Lavender took the cordless, pressed one, and sat on the edge of the bed, bending down to take off his
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