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My mother pulled the car to the curb outside the airport. She got out of the car, still silent with sadness, and helped me get my bags out of the trunk.
“I think we all need to go for counseling,” I said. “When I get back to town.” I looked into her eyes. “We have to talk about this. Sweeping it under the rug will only allow it to get worse.”
“We’ll see, baby,” she said, kissing me on the cheek. “We’ll see about that.” She cupped my face in her hands. “But now, I want you to walk into this airport and forget about all of this drama. Go and have a good time with your girlfriends. Can you promise me that?” She began to cry again.
“Mom—”
“Just promise me that. I can’t let you have this bring you down like it’s done to me. I can’t let another generation deal with this.”
“OK,” I lied. “I’ll try.”
After I made it through the security maze, I managed to make it to my gate just a few minutes before boarding. My mother’s news was flipping around in my mind and I was struggling hard not to cry or call Lucy. I couldn’t tell if I was mad or just in shock about the whole thing, but all I had were questions that hadn’t been answered. I kept trying to stop thinking about the whole thing. If I let it take control of me, my trip would be ruined, and I’d promised my mother I wouldn’t let that happen. I’d have to wait and deal with everything when I got back home.
When I sat down and waited for the airline to begin boarding, I decided to call Julian. I wasn’t going to tell him what was going on. It just didn’t seem like the right time. I didn’t even know all of the facts yet. I just wanted to hear his voice for comfort, to remind myself that the rest of my world still existed.
“Hey, baby,” I said when he picked up the phone. He sounded like he was still in bed. “Are you sleeping?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m in bed,” he replied. “Shouldn’t you be in L.A. with your friends by now?”
“No, silly. I’m at the airport. My flight doesn’t leave until 4 P.M. I told you all of this yesterday,” I said.
“Oh yeah. I must’ve forgot. Things are just crazy right now at the hospital,” Julian mumbled. “I’m covering for someone. Been doing 72s.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to wake you up. I was just calling to say goodbye before I left.”
“No problem. When will you be back?” Julian asked. He sounded anxious.
“Oh, it’s just for the weekend. So I’ll be back on Monday.”
“What hotel will you be staying at?”
“The Mondrain.”
“Great,” Julian said. “Well, have fun. And call me as soon as you get in.”
“I will.” I heard them call my flight for boarding.
“Have a nice trip, baby,” Julian said. “Goodbye.”
I hung up the phone and looked at Julian’s name before it disappeared off the screen.
Though I knew my mother was right about some of the things she’d said about Julian, I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with it. I mean, she didn’t really know Julian like I did. Yes, Julian messed up with the Miata thing. But was I supposed to make him pay for it for the rest of his life? For the rest of my life? Was I supposed to miss out on the one man I loved because he made one mistake? He’d come clean to me about her. I wasn’t ready to walk away from him yet. All I knew was that I loved that man and he still loved me.
I handed my ticket to the flight attendant and boarded the plane. Next stop, L.A.
Where My Girls At?
I know why they call Los Angeles “La-la land.” The place is so unreal. The people are unbelievably beautiful, the homes are amazing, the cars are immaculate, hell, even the dogs look like superstars. Everything “appears” as if it just came off of a movie set or a dream you wished you had every night. I don’t know why or how Tasha ever left L.A. That girl had so much drama, this place was made for her.
Checking out the city from the back of my limousine, I could already tell we were going to have a ball. Tamia had put together a list of things for us to do, and Tasha had had Lionel’s assistant put us on every VIP list in the city.
“Your first time in L.A.?” the driver asked, pulling up to the hotel.
“No, I used to come here a lot as a child,” I replied. “I guess you could say it’s my first time here as an adult.”
“You’ll have a nice time,” he said, handing me a receipt. “The Mondrain
is a nice hotel. Go see Beverly Hills.”
