His Last Name Page 3

  I know he is faithful now and I love my man, but I’m not naive enough to think that there aren’t other women who will lie, cheat, and steal to be in my situation. Before, his traveling drove me crazy. I would be texting and calling him all day long. I don’t do that anymore. We talk and pray, and that has made the biggest difference in our relationship. Now I am preparing for our wedding and honeymoon in three months.

  Initially, Jabril said my budget for the wedding was two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. When he gave me that figure, I told him, “No. I don’t need that much. I can have a great wedding for a hundred thousand.” Then I started to become a bridezilla. One visit to an amazing venue will do that to you. I started flipping through bridal magazines and got so many ideas and was so inspired that I almost lost my mind. My simple wedding turned into a circus. I wanted doves, a horse-drawn carriage, and fireworks. I even called John Legend’s management to see if he was available to sing at the event. Unfortunately, he was already booked. Then my sister brought me back to reality and convinced me that a wedding was about celebrating love—not a show for the guests. I agreed and came back to my senses.

  I put all my focus back on our relationship and our day of unity. I still wanted a one-of-a-kind dress, so I pieced together different dresses that I liked. Then I had a new up-and-coming designer sketch the dress and design it. I scaled back the wedding a lot and even shortened my guest list and decided I wasn’t even having bridesmaids.

  My nanny, Lena, walked into the living room “Time for lunch, Little Ms. Jabrilah!” She grabbed Jabrilah out of my arms.

  “She should be hungry,” I said, getting up from the floor.

  “I’ll make her a sandwich.”

  “Okay. I’ll just be out for a few.”

  “No problema.”

  When Jabril initially hired a nanny, I was against it. I’m from Philly, and I didn’t know anyone who had a nanny. We raised our kids ourselves. But then I realized Lena was there to help me, not take my place. Plus Jabrilah loved her. Lena was in her fifties—an older Mexican woman. I loved her because she was great with my daughter, she’ll never be after my man, and she doesn’t care about material things. Once, she even found a pair of diamond earrings in my pants pocket and gave them back. I hired her sister to work on Lena’s days off, and her son to do our landscaping. They were all really good people, and I admired their work ethic.

  A lot of things that came with being engaged to a professional athlete had to grow on me. I now can say I’ve adjusted to the fabulous life God has blessed me with. Sometimes, I would come home to twenty dozen roses just because he missed me. Jabril spoiled me and our daughter with everything. Even now, I still don’t care if it’s a designer name or not. If I like it, I like it. That’s one of things Jabril says he loves about me—that I’m a regular girl. I don’t have to cake makeup on to look good. My caramel skin tone has its own glow. I’m very low-maintenance. I get my shoulder-length brown hair blown out every week and get a simple manicure. I’m naturally slim, so I get to the gym when I can. I’d rather spend time with my daughter and Jabril than have money any day, but he insisted on giving me money and buying me things. I put most of the money up for our daughter, I send money to my sister, and still have enough to go on shopping sprees if I care to. I have two engagement rings. I lost the first one, so Jabril replaced it with a bigger and better one. Then I found the first one under our bed. My focus is on my family, but once Jabrilah is in school, I want to start our foundation and complete my degree.

  I exited my gated community and my phone started to ring. It was my baby Jabril.

  “Hey, Bril. What’s up, baby?”

  “I wanted to FaceTime with Brilah. I’m on my way to the airport now.”

  “She’s home.”

  “All right. Well, I’m just checking in on y’all.”

  “How is your knee?”

  “It’s better.”

  “Love you. Can’t wait for you to get home.”

  “I’m going to get there around midnight. When I get there, be ready. It’s been a week, and I’m overdue.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you.”

  It was 12:30 a.m. when I heard Jabril pull into the driveway. I walked down the circular staircase in six-inch stilettos and a purple-and-black corset. I stood in the doorway and waited for him. He came in, slammed the door shut behind him, and grabbed me. He pushed my body up against the door. I turned around and kissed him passionately. His hands roamed every inch of my body.

  “I missed you, Kiya.”

  “I know you did, but I missed you more.” I slid down on to my knees and unzipped his pants. He released a long moan as I placed his manhood into my mouth. I had become pretty good at pleasing my man. When I first met him, I was a virgin and didn’t have any skills, but after watching videos, reading books, and practicing, I had improved a lot. Once he was fully hard, I moved him to the floor and straddled him, placed him inside me. I began to slowly stir my hips in a circle over his pelvis. He grabbed my breasts and pulled my hair while I moved up and down, bringing the two of us to a simultaneous climax. Once we were done, I helped him up off the floor and joined him in the shower for round two.

  We had our hard times, but I knew there was no other man I would ever want to be with for the rest of my life. I couldn’t wait until we were an official family and all of our names finally matched.

  CHAPTER 5

  Adrienne Sheppard

  Staring at the ceiling, I kept asking myself where I went wrong. I had a baby by a millionaire, I married him, then divorced him, and had a five-hundred-thousand-dollar cash settlement . . . so why was I broke and hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt? I’d lie in bed and ask myself this question almost every morning.

  A year and a half ago, I realized my dream when I opened the doors to Belize, my very own VIP club in Philly. Celebrities, athletes, professionals, and beautiful people frequented my establishment. My club was so hot I was turning people away every night. Then my dream became my nightmare. My ex-boyfriend, Ian, and his cousin decided it would be a good idea to extort my customers and sell them drugs. When the feds arrived at my door with a case against them, I had to make a choice. Either I could testify against Ian and his cousin or go to jail with them. Orange is not the new black for me. I testified and did what I had to. Besides, Ian wasn’t loyal to me. He not only ruined my club, he was also fucking and living with one of my employees in my Miami condo.

  After I lost everything, it was difficult to rebuild my life. The first few months after the trial, I went into seclusion. It was devastating to find out that the person I thought had my back was the person who had been betraying me all along.

  Instead of being up and having it all, I was back to scrambling with nothing. When the club closed, it left me at a loss. It was crazy getting bills in the mail that I couldn’t pay. Most of my creditors and vendors were threatening me with lawsuits and liens. Eventually, I lost my condo to foreclosure, and I moved back to Philadelphia permanently.

  I got up out of the bed and tried to start my day. I pulled my naturally dark curly hair back into a ponytail and noticed my cocoa butter skin was paler than usual. Thirty-two years young, but I felt at least fifty. I was under so much unnecessary stress.

  Ian tried to reach out to me, but I never responded to any of his calls or messages. There was absolutely nothing he could say to me that would make up for all the damage he caused. I had a hard time taking care of my daughter because of him.

  My five-year-old daughter, Malaysia, was my life. My ex-husband and I shared custody of her. She lived with me, but spent time with him in Atlanta. We made our exchange at the airport. We took turns flying back and forth. It was a crazy arrangement, but it worked for us.

  My daughter’s father, DeCarious Simmons, retired from the NFL and opened up a chain of sports-themed burger and wing spots. My sole income was my monthly child support check. I got seventy-five hundred dollars a month, which was just not enough anymore. Asia was
going to start private school in September, and I needed an increase. When I picked up my daughter in Atlanta on Friday, I also made a stop at family court.

  My flight had a two-hour delay, so I ran slightly behind for my one o’clock court appointment. Traffic on I-85 north was crawling toward the Atlanta skyline. I picked up my rental car and checked into my hotel room.

  I arrived fifteen minutes late to the courthouse. DeCarious was in the waiting area with his wife, Cherise. I hated her. She was a reporter on the news and my daughter’s ugly stepmom. I tried to be cordial, but she was still mad that I took DeCarious from her four years ago. He dumped her and married me, because I lied to him and told him I was pregnant with our second child. When he learned the truth, he divorced me and went back to her. I spoke to them, but they looked up and gave disapproving glances. I guess they weren’t happy about my three-thousand-dollar-a-month increase request. Oh, well. I looked over and watched my baby girl as she played with her favorite doll. Asia saw me and screamed, “Mommy!” She ran over and gave me hug. I kneeled down next to her and took in all her affection. I noticed white bandages swaddled around her arm.

  “Hey, Asia girl. What happened to your arm?” I asked.

  “Mommy, remember the burn? It hurts bad. Right, Daddy?” she said, looking in her father’s direction. He looked down, and I turned my attention back to my daughter.

  “What are you talking about, Asia? Are you okay?

  “Yes.”

  “So, did you miss me?”

  “Yes, Mommy. I’ve missed you so much, but I’ve been having so much fun.”

  “That’s good, Asia. Are you ready to come home?”

  “I can’t, because I’m going to my school now.”

  “Yes, you are going to kindergarten after the summer.”

  “No, Mommy. I go to my new school now.”

  “You go to your new school now. Huh?”

  How is that possible? I thought as I eyed DeCarious and his dumb wife. We agreed that Asia would be going to school in Philadelphia during the school year and spend the summers with him. Before I could react to the information that Asia had given me, we were called into the courtroom. Asia and Cherise stood in the waiting area, and DeCarious and I walked into the small courtroom. A sharp young guy in a well-fitted suit entered the courtroom behind us. He sat his briefcase on the table and sat next to my ex. It became instantly obvious that DeCarious had hired an attorney. He should have saved that money because he was going to lose. I shook my head in disgust when an older judge entered the courtroom with his black robe slung over his robust frame. The judge reminded me of an easygoing grandfather who would have sympathy for a struggling young mother. I smiled at him while we were sworn in and told to be seated.

  The judge placed his glasses on his crinkled brown face before speaking: “Today we are here to hear the petition to modify the support payments for one minor child, Malaysia Simmons, age five, as well as an emergency custody hearing filed by counsel for Mr. DeCarious Simmons.”

  DeCarious’s only emergency was that he didn’t want to give me any more money. He was always so manipulative and conniving. Instead of trying to reach an agreement with me, he wanted to out-lawyer me. I didn’t have representation, and I wasn’t about to try to argue against his without my own. I raised my hand to get the judge’s attention. He looked over at me.

  “Your Honor, may I speak?” I asked.

  “Yes, you may.”

  “I would like to ask if we can please postpone this hearing.”

  “For what reason?”

  “Because I do not have an attorney, and I wasn’t aware of an emergency hearing for custody. I thought we were here for the support case. I am not prepared for any of this.”

  “Ms. Sheppard, I understand your concern. However, this hearing has been scheduled for several months.”

  “Yes, the support case. But not anything else.”

  “Paperwork was sent to you, ma’am. I’m not sure why you didn’t receive it. Due to the current circumstances, we combined both hearings. I’m sorry. I have to deny your request to postpone.”

  I sat back down and I looked over at DeCarious and his attorney. I didn’t want to go through with the hearing, but I didn’t have a choice.

  “Counsel, are you ready?” the judge questioned.

  “Yes. We are, Your Honor.”

  DeCarious’s lawyer sprung up and said, “Your Honor, we filed for an emergency custody hearing because my client believes his daughter is in grave danger. His daughter, Malaysia, suffered severe burns and bruising on her left arm.” He slapped enlarged pictures in front of me and then handed one to the judge. I took one look at the picture and almost laughed. Grave danger? Really? He knew what he was trying to pass off as abuse was an accident. A few weeks ago, I heard the loudest scream come from the bathroom. I’d accidentally left my curling iron on, and it fell on Asia’s arm. I rushed her to the hospital and was told she had a second-degree burn.

  After Asia was all bandaged up and ready to go, I was confronted by the hospital’s social worker. She asked me if it was okay to speak with Asia alone. I cooperated that night, but that didn’t stop them from making a surprise visit to my house to inspect and interview Asia again a few days later.

  I was cleared of any abuse and told by the caseworker it was standard procedure to investigate burns because it was an early sign of child abuse. I had explained the situation to DeCarious, but I never imagined he would try to use it against me.

  In the small courtroom, DeCarious’s attorney was performing like he was trying to sway a jury in a capital murder trial. I just shook my head at the ridiculous lies. After his long spiel on how I was a neglectful, abusive mother, he began questioning me about why I needed an increase in support.

  “How are you supporting yourself, Ms. Sheppard?”

  “I’m currently unemployed.”

  “I see. May I ask you, what is your highest level of education?”

  “I have a degree in nursing.”

  “Nursing. That’s a prestigious and rewarding field. Why are you no longer practicing?”

  “I started a business.”

  “Okay. I understand. Were you the owner of the now defunct club Belize?”

  “Yes.”

  “For what reason did your nightclub close?”

  “Business declined.”

  “Declined? Is that a nice way of saying the federal government shut it down?”

  “No, but that’s partly true.”

  “Your Honor, the club closed after a federal investigation. Ms. Sheppard’s boyfriend was convicted,” he said as he presented him with paperwork. “Ms. Sheppard is still in communication with Ian McKinley, who is serving ten years in prison. Isn’t that true, Ms. Sheppard? Remember, you are under oath.”

  “He is no longer my boyfriend, I don’t talk to him, and no charges were ever filed against me.”

  He then moved on to his next round of questions and continued his relentless attack on my character.

  “Now, you said you needed an increase in child support due to your daughter’s private school tuition and other expenses associated with her schooling—or is it that what you need to pay your own bills? Please explain to the court why it is so difficult to take care of a child with seventy-five hundred dollars per month.”

  “I never said it was difficult. I said that Malaysia’s tuition was twenty-five thousand a year and that I couldn’t afford to pay it on my own and also pay my bills.”

  “So, you are using your daughter’s tuition as an excuse to get more money from Mr. Simmons to pay your own bills.”

  “No, that’s not what I said.”

  “Are you sure? Because according to your correspondence with my client, you said—and I quote—excuse me, Your Honor, some of the language is a little colorful—you wrote: ‘Fuck you. Pay me.’ Is that correct, ma’am? In response to my client’s simple request to keep the current support order the same?”

  “No, I don’t recall wri
ting that,” I said, dumbfounded.

  “Are you sure? I have a copy of the text message right here.”

  I thought about it. I knew I wrote it, but I didn’t think DeCarious’s dumb ass would bring it to court with him. “I’m not sure. I may have said that.”

  “So your daughter is no more than a paycheck to you?”

  “That is not true.”

  “Did you burn your daughter with the curling iron because she was disturbing you while you were getting high?”

  “No, I don’t do drugs. And I left the curling iron on by accident.”

  “Accident, but didn’t it take you days to inform her father about the injury? And didn’t you try to conceal it?”

  “No, that’s a lie. I called him as soon as it happened. And now he is using this against me.” I turned to DeCarious and screamed, “You know the truth. Why are you sitting here lying?”

  “Ma’am, you need to address the court, not my client.”

  I started to lose it. “I am addressing the court and you.”

  “Please, control yourself,” his lawyer snapped at me.

  “You control yourself. I can speak, and he knows what the hell he is trying to do.”

  “Ms. Sheppard, you have to watch your language in my courtroom. I’ll have you taken out,” the judge barked at me.

  “I apologize, Your Honor. I just don’t like to be lied on.”

  “As you can see, she is extremely irrational. My client feels his daughter is not safe and that she is not being properly cared for. The minor child is beginning kindergarten this September, and my client has already enrolled her in pre-K. Mr. Simmons would like to give his daughter stability. The mother has questionable behavior and associates. We are requesting drug testing, and rehab if the test comes back positive. Also parenting classes for the mother to deal with her anger.”

  I stood still in shock. I wanted to cuss DeCarious and his attorney out, but I knew I had to do the opposite. I took in deep breaths to keep myself calm. Then I was prompted out of my daze when I heard the judge say: “Do you have anything to say, Ms. Sheppard?”