Read Online What's His Is Mine by Daaimah S. Poole - Free Book Online

jealously.
    â€œYes, they all had money,” Shavone said as she slapped hands with Angelique.
    â€œIt was fun, but I’m trying to get married. Get one of these dudes to lock it down for the long haul. That’s next. It’s all good being the girlfriend having nice seats at the game, but I’m trying to lock it in. I need some paper work.” I agreed that was the perfect phrase: lock it in.
    â€œYou right, Angelique; lock it in and get paper work,” I said.
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    We took a taxi from Angelique’s building to the club. As always, when we arrived at the club there was no waiting in line. Angelique’s friend pulled us in through the side door and straight back to the VIP section. The party was crowded and the music was really loud. Angelique’s friend pushed through the crowd and took us to a table with a reserved sign. Immediately he had a bartender bring us over two bottles of Ace of Spades and a bottle of Cîroc. Angelique introduced everyone to her friend. His name was Mario and he wasn’t that cute, but just from the clear diamonds in his watch and ears, I could tell he had a lot of money.
    We were there for less than five minutes before people were already looking like “who are they?” because of the extra special treatment we were receiving. So Angelique had to be extra, and opened the champagne and began pouring, letting it spill and bubble over each glass a little. She handed us all a glass and with one sip I felt like my old self. I was back, and anything was possible. I was in a club in the middle of New York City and in every direction I was getting winks and smiles from countless rich men. I turned to my left—million-dollar-contract football players. I turned to my right—actors, rappers, and some more athletes. Angelique knew where to go. It was like I couldn’t stop smiling, because I knew all it would take is one dude. Just one to come over to me and make me his and I would have VIP status for life.
    I took a look around the club for a come-up. A cute guy at the table across from us caught my attention. He looked familiar, real familiar. I wasn’t sure who he was so I tapped Angelique. “Who is that guy?” I asked, looking at him, still smiling and keeping my eyeball tennis match going with the cute stranger.
    â€œWho, him?” Angelique asked, turning her nose up and looking in the cute guy’s direction. “Girl, don’t talk to him. His ass is broke. He used to have money, but now he is just living off memories.”
    â€œReally,” I said and immediately sucked my teeth and turned in another direction.
    â€œYeah. Focus your attention over here, boo,” she said as she tilted my head ninety degrees in the other direction. “You see that group over there? That’s the starting line-up of the Pacers. They played the Knicks tonight and look, Shavone’s funny-looking ass is already over there.” I didn’t want to say anything.
    â€œWhat’s up with her, anyway?” I asked.
    â€œI ask myself what people see in her, but she gets money and has plenty of connects.”
    â€œI can’t see it,” I said as I downed the rest of my drink and swayed to the blasting music just as Angelique suggested that we leave VIP and walk around the party.
    As soon as we were leaving our table, someone grabbed my arm and said, “What’s up, Adrienne?” I knew that voice, but I had to look up to see who it was. And I couldn’t believe it was this guy I used to deal with named Mark Owen. He played for the Cleveland Cavaliers, and I hadn’t seen him in over two years. I was with him—well, chasing him hard—before I met DeCarious. He was supposed to be my baby daddy. He wasn’t ever a looker, but his charisma and personality and money made up for it.
    â€œMark? What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised.
    â€œYou know I be in New York all the time.