“Funny, I’ve not heard much about you. Take care of my girl, ok, she means a lot to me. Or you’ll have to answer to me, I don’t care how fine you are,” Mia shook his hand as she scanned him from head to toe.
“Oh, I plan to take good care of her. Lorenzo will take you and Chanel back to your respective homes,” Releasing Mia’s hand, Buddha stepped back, allowing her to get by. Taking my hand, Mia and I walked out to meet Chanel, who was sitting having the time of her life with Lotus.
“Hey, Chanel,” I ushered her over. She gave Lotus one last belly rub before she ran over. “You know how much I love you, right?” Chanel nodded her head vigorously. “Good, so I’ll see you as soon as this job is over, and as I told you when I get a new phone, you’ll be the first person I call,” I knew what I was saying wouldn’t be the easiest thing for her to comprehend, but I tried anyway.
“I miss you a lot, Dior,” Chanel said, flying into my arms, hugging me tightly. My heart broke into pieces as I hugged her back.
“I miss you more, and I love you to the moon and back,” I damn near broke into tears when we pulled away.
“Be good for Lewis, alright. Lorenzo will drive you and Mia back,” standing between the two women who meant the world to me. I held on to their hands, on my left and right, as I walked them to the front door, where Lorenzo was waiting.
“I love you, girl,” Mia said as she hugged me one last time. I hugged Chanel and kissed her cheeks before letting her go.
With a hand on my chest as my heart beat as though it was about to burst out of my chest, I watched Mia and Chanel climb into the backseat of Lorenzo’s all-black Audi. I lifted my hand and waved as they drove away. I kept my composure when I felt Buddha’s presence beside me, so I turned to him.
“Why did you do that?” I asked.
“I thought you needed it,” he shrugged his shoulders, his head turned away from me. Buddha sure was a tough man to read.
“Thank you,” I said. For the first time, I wanted to reach over and hug him. Something told me Buddha wasn’t much of a hugger. Turning to me, I waited for him to say something meaningful.
“Let’s go,” that’s it, that was all that I got before he closed and locked his front door. I silently followed him as we walked by to his Bugatti. We had to get back to our wedding reception.
*****
I was drunk! It had been about three hours since Mia and my sister left. Buddha and I went back to our wedding celebrations. Everyone looked at us as though we ran off to have a quickie. Buddha acted as if that’s what happened, and I couldn't care less that he did.
Buddha’s thoughtful gesture to bring Mia and Chanel was nice and all, but then I felt angry. I was angry that I wouldn’t be able to go home, angry that Mia and I wouldn't see each other until who knows when. Chanel believed that I abandoned her and didn’t love her anymore, and it was because of this fucking family.
When I got back to the reception, I began drinking every kind of alcohol available. By the time the Russians and the Chinese left, I was stone-cold drunk. Buddha was not impressedby my slurring words and my inability to walk without tripping over my own feet. I avoided him the best that I could. Zig-zagging in the opposite direction so he wouldn’t chastise me for my alcohol intake.
I was seated with Sofia and Rocki, having glass number…I don’t know how many, because I’d lost count of how many glasses I drank. I looked up just in time to see Buddha walking over to us.
“Here comes your husband, girl, and he looks pissed,” Sofia said, lifting a sleeping Rocki up on her shoulder. “I’m about to call it a night. Feel free to come over any time…I like you,” Sofia smiled before she got up. I admired how well she cared for her son and wondered who Rocki’s father was. I found it odd that Sofia, being the only female, had a child and was not married to Rocki’s father. I knew they were big on traditional family upbringing. So why wasn’t Sofia married? Or better yet, why wasn’t he even present at the wedding? Maybe when we grow a lot closer, she’ll share that with me.
“Thanks, I like me too. I mean, I like you too,” I started cracking up as if I said something really fucking funny. Just as I placed my glass to my lips, here comes Mr. Kill-Joy. Sofia walked away quick as hell, not even waiting to see if I needed her to help me kick her brother’s ass.
“Get up, it’s time to go,” Buddha said, snatching the glass from my hand. Some of the contents spilled onto my dress.
“The fuck,” I said, trying to grab my glass back, but Buddha wasn’t having it. Folding my arms under my breasts, I stared at the man whose last name I now carried.
“I don’t think I’m ready to leave,” I said, pouting my bottom lip out. Damn, I swear a vein began pumping in the middle of his forehead. The next thing I knew, this nigga had the audacity to reach down and snatch my ass clean off the chair.
“Didn’t I tell you about getting drunk?” He got up in my face so he could glower at me. Just as I was about to tell him he could kiss my ass, the DJ made an announcement.
“This is the last song for the night,” the music of a song I knew all too well started. My mother loved the hell out of this song. Every Saturday morning, as she did her chores.
“Oh shit, this is my song!” I shouted enthusiastically. Buddha had no idea how I managed to slip out of his hold and hurried to where the DJ was set up. “Can I have your mic?” I asked, snatching it away from him before he could even answer.
I didn’t waste any time. I had the attention of everyone, Tomasso, Victoria, Francesco, Luca, Snow, Ciara, and a very amused Lorenzo. Everyone was looking at me, intrigued, except my husband. He was looking at me as though he wanted to skin me alive.
“You don’t own me,” I began singing the song, and when I did, I looked directly at a very unamused Buddha. He was standing there staring at me, his right hand stuffed inside his pants pocket. Glaring angrily at my drunken performance. I couldn't give a damn, I continued with my shenanigans.
“Don’t try to change me in any way. You don’t own me, don’t tie me down, 'cause I’d never stay. Don’t tell me what to do, and don’t tell me what to say. Please, when I go out with you, don’t put me on display,” my voice croaked as I sang the lyrics. I sounded like a fucking mess, but nobody could tell me I didn’t sound like Whitney Houston?
I couldn’t rap G-Eazy’s part of the song. So instead, I just pointed at Buddha, closed my eyes, and drunkenly swayed along with the hip-hop mix. Closing my eyes while dancing after having multiple glasses of alcohol was not the brightest idea. I felt myself tipping over, about to hit the floor.
Strong arms wrapped around me before my body fell to an intoxicated heap. The microphone was removed from my hand.
