The Ex Project by Nia Arthurs

Chapter Three

Latoya staredat her as if she’d grown two heads. “Now, let me get this straight. Devon was being a douchebag to you, as usual.” She rolled her eyes in a dramatic fashion. “Then Tay-Tay’s hot football coach swooped in and acted like your boyfriend…”

“That’s correct.” Yolanda braced her legs on the car door and pulled up the pants Latoya had brought for her.

“… And then you went on a date with him.”

“It was not a date,” she said, stopping to glare at her friend.

Latoya found her eyes in the rearview mirror and glared back. “You said you had beers with him, laughed, swapped stories and tried to kiss him.”

“I also got black-out drunk,” Yolanda said.

“But you only drink heavily around the people you trust.” Latoya stuck out her neck in a duh gesture. The sun glinted against her chocolate brown skin, intelligent brown eyes and luscious lips.

“Not exactly,” Yolanda groused, struggling with getting the pants to stay on. “I drink when I’m stressed.”

The shorts slipped down her hips again. She grunted and hiked it up. Latoya’s body was absolutely stunning, but Yolanda did not have those kinds of curves. Even with the belt, the pants kept falling.

“Why were you stressed? You said you were laughing and talking with him.”

“Yes, but the conversation turned to Tay-Tay and Devon.” She pulled the red dress completely over her head and shucked it. It was a designer piece from last season, so it wasn’t like she’d been eager to wear it again anyway.

“And?” Latoya flicked the indicator and turned left.

“And I started thinking about how frustrated I was at Devon for always breaking his promises to Tay-Tay.”

“Is that all?”

“I also admitted that I’m…”

“What?”

“Still kind of attracted to Devon.”

Latoya whirled around. “Yollie!”

“Would you keep your eyes on the road!” Yolanda yelled, pointing at the vehicles speeding toward them.

Latoya righted Cole’s vintage convertible. “That is not okay.”

“I know! I know!” She cringed.

“After everything he’s done, why do you still have feelings for that jerk?”

“I loved him. I wanted a family with him. And because of Tay-Tay, I have to see him all the time. It’s not like I can bury my feelings just because he sucks. I’ve tried. I really have.”

Latoya sighed. “What did Duane say when you kept talking about your ex during the date?”

“It wasn’t a date.”

Latoya gave her the side eye.

Yolanda pulled makeup remover wipes from her purse. “I don’t remember what he said. Something sweet, I believe. The world was spinning at the time and he was staring at me and…”

“That’s when you tried to kiss him.”

“Yes. I don’t remember anything after that.”

“But you’re assuming he took you to a hotel and slept with you? While you were black-out drunk?” She scrunched her nose.

“I was trying to make-out with him. I remember that much. It’s not a hard leap to think I was sending those signals.”

Latoya huffed and laughed at the same time, creating a sound that was almost musical. “What did he say about it when you woke up?”

“It?”

“Your night together.”

“We didn’t have a conversation because mom called, and I ran as fast as humanly possible.”

“Hm.”

Yolanda finished wiping all her makeup off. She climbed into the front seat and flipped the sun visor down. In the little mirror, she checked to make sure she’d gotten all the mascara and lipstick. Without the makeup, her dark circles and faint wrinkles were much more apparent.

Yolanda cringed and made a mental note to see her dermatologist for another treatment. She was far too stressed lately, and her skin was showing it.

“Are you going to tell Devon the truth?” Latoya asked.

She dabbed lip gloss on. “The truth about what?”

“He thinks you’re dating Tay-Tay’s coach.”

“Why would I tell him the truth? He doesn’t need to be in my business.”

Latoya swung a hand over the steering wheel. “Yolanda, you know your baby daddy doesn’t have any sense. He can date all the women he wants, but the moment you start dating, he gets all needy and territorial.”

“Let him. When he’s like that, he hangs with Tay-Tay more.”

“So that’s your plan? You’re going to use your one-night stand as some kind of,” Latoya waved her hand, “baby daddy rehabilitation project?”

Yolanda froze. “That sounds way more complicated than it actually is.” She turned in her seat and stared at her friend. “And you, missy. Didn’t you fake-date Cole to make your ex jealous?”

“Totally different thing.”

“Why?”

“For one thing, I didn’t have a kid who’d watch my every move.” She counted it off on her fingers. “And I also didn’t have to see Leon for the rest of my life because of said kid.”

“You have to see your ex now that you’re tied at the hip with his brother,” she pointed out, hating to give up the fight.

“Different thing.”

“It is not.”

“Girl.” Latoya did another award-winning eye roll.

“I have everything under control,” Yolanda said, pushing the car door open and scrambling out.

“No, you don’t.” Latoya rolled down the window and stared at her. “But you’ll never admit it, even if you’re drowning.”

Her friend was right. That stubbornness was her biggest weakness. It made her stay with a man she knew wasn’t good for her simply because everyone was telling her to get away.

Maybe if she’d listened, she wouldn’t have gotten mixed up with Devon in the first place. But if she had listened to wisdom, she wouldn’t have Tay-Tay. And Yolanda would endure the pain, heartbreak and disrespect all over again for her baby.

“Go on,” Latoya said, turning her face away. “Tay-Tay’s probably worried about you.”

She placed her fingers on the car window so Latoya couldn’t drive off and blew her a kiss. “You still love me right?”

“Unfortunately.” Latoya’s voice was rough, but her eyes sparkled.

Grinning, Latoya tapped the car once, waved and strolled through the gate. Several security cameras pointed at the driveway and front door. She turned the knob, knowing her mother had seen her on the feed and would let her in. To her surprise, the door was locked.

Yolanda screwed her lips, pushed up the cover for the keypad and tapped in the passcode. The door opened with a melodic beep.

She stomped into the lavish foyer, kicking off her shoes and putting on house slippers. “Thanks for letting me in, ma.”

“I thought you’d forgotten where this house was,” Jada Walsh said, gingerly stepping down the stairs like a classic Hollywood starlet.

Her pressed black hair floated over her shoulders. She wore a delicate silk tank top and shell-toned cut-off pants. Although the outfit was simple, it probably cost more than some people made in a month.

Yolanda adjusted her smile so it didn’t drop too far and looked up at her mother. “Thank you for watching him. I’m sorry I didn’t communicate that I was staying out all night.”

“Oh why bother with communication. After all,” her mother gently clasped her hands together, “the world runs on chaos.”

Whenever Jada made genteel movements and kept her tone soft and elegant, Yolanda knew she was in for it.

Clearing her throat, she backed away from her mother and went in search of reinforcements. “Where’s Tay-Tay?”

“Playing games in his room.”

She squashed her lips together. “Ma.”

“Should I have answered his questions honestly? I thought you’d be grateful I provided a distraction.”

Yolanda glanced away. “I’ll get him and tell him we need to go now. He has school tomorrow.”

“Ah-ah.” Jada pressed a hand on Yolanda’s arm. The simple touch, though light, was full of authority. “Let’s have a chat first.”

She groaned. “Ma.”

“Don’t ‘ma’ me.” Jada wagged a finger and a hint of her Creole accent jumped out.

Jada rarely used Belizean Creole and usually spoke crisp English as her white grandmother had taught her to do. The Walsh family history spanned the globe, starting from the turn of the century when a white naval officer came to Belize to find his fortune. He did. And he also found love in a local Caribbean girl.

Since then the family mixed and mingled with all kinds of ethnicities, forming a mish-mash of culturally ambiguous children, locally called ‘Creoles’.

Most of the Walsh offspring had light skin and were often mistaken as Hispanic. However, that ambiguity ended with her mother, who fell for a man with the richest, darkest skin.

Yolanda looked nothing like her ‘light-skinned cousins’—something she used to feel quite insecure about. It was a feeling that did not last long when Jada learned of it.

From that day on, her mother reinforced how beautiful her dark skin and thick hair was. She made sure Yolanda was never ashamed of being different. Of being dark. Of being Belizean.

The only thing Jada did not allow was talking Creole. A rule her mother broke when she ran out of patience.

As she was doing right now.

“Are you going to keep picking up men in bars and spending one night with them, having no intentions of settling down?” Jada hissed.

Her jaw dropped. “Mom.”

“Do you think I am unaware of what you do, Yolanda? Remember, our family have been cornerstones in this country. Everyone knows who you are. There is no hiding in Belize.”

She tilted her head back and let out a sigh that hit the high, Cathedral-like ceilings. “Mom, my personal life is my business. I would appreciate if you stayed out of it.”

“Tay-Tay needs a father,” her mom insisted. “He’s reaching that critical time in his life where his mother’s coddling won’t be enough anymore.”

“Tay-Tay has a father,” she said firmly. Was he a good one? No. But she’d chosen him and made a kid with him. That was on her.

Yolanda would never accept that she made a bad decision for her child. Devon had to become the father he was meant to be. For her son’s sake.

“He needs a positive male role model.”

“He has one.”

“Who?”

“His…” She’d been about to say ‘his football coach’.

“Yolanda, if you were totally uninterested in dating, I wouldn’t push this hard. The problem is… you’re going out there and wasting time with men only interested in your body. If you’d open yourself up to meeting good men with nice backgrounds, you’d be surprised at the connections you’d make.”

“Mom, I don’t want to date the sons of any of your colleagues.”

“Yes, because you’ve made the best decisions picking men off the street. How has Devon’s music career been going?”

She gave her mom a stink look.

“Your child is growing, Yolanda. You know all the statistics. He needs a father. A good role model. Someone he can depend on and look up to. And this playing around you’re doing is—”

“He has a good role model, mom.”

“If you say Devon, young lady, I won’t be responsible for what I do next.”

“His football coach,” she blurted.

“Honey, his football coach does not count. Tay-Tay only sees him for a couple hours a week and he’s not even interested in you—”

“Yes, he is,” she said, drawing to her full height.

“He’s what?”

“His name is Duane Marden.” She stared right into her mother’s eyes. “And he’s my boyfriend.”