Chapter 22
“Say yay, Malachi. Yay,” Joanna coached.
Malachi smiled and grinned but there were no words.
A happy grunt but never any words. No mama, dada, hi, bye – nothing.
Two and a half years and nothing. To say it broke her heart was an understatement.
But she had yet to come to terms with karma.
Betraying your best friend in the worst way possible had it’s repercussions.
Malachi grunted, smiled, clapped his hands and moved the blocks over.
“You ever thought about having another one?” Janet asked from across the living room of the beach home.
She enjoyed her birthday getaway with the same three people she’d requested for the last three years.
She liked Joanna because she was easy. Not too ambitious, or too loud, or too independent.
Joanna was her reflection and women like Emani challenged her comfort rooted in mediocrity.
Joanna briefly took her eyes off of Malachi. “If Malik wants more. We’re in this weird space right now. Considering there’s a wedding next week.”
Her words were bitter. Malik had every opportunity to choose her and he hadn’t.
She was desperate and desperate times called for desperate measures.
A ticking bomb, she’d been patiently waiting on to explode.
Any moment now, Joanna was going to position herself to have Malik to herself once and for all.
Malik had gone on a run and Sandi was sitting in the sun, swiping away on her iPad.
Joanna’s phone chimed and it began. Feigning innocent, she went back to playing with Malachi.
Stacking the blocks, asking him to say words he may never speak although Emani had written the check for his speech therapist and covered the sessions in full for the sake of being the boy’s godmother.
A sick request to sleep with her man, have his child and ask her to be the godmother.
Like a bolt of lightning, Sandi ran in the house, iPad in hand. “This isn’t good.”
Joanna knitted her brows and Janet turned to look at her. “What’s not good?”
“ShadyPalms just uploaded a post.”
Joanna shrugged nonchalantly as if she didn’t hire the photographer and sell the images to the blog. “Okay, they do that all the time.”
“Yeah, except this time, it’s you and Malik hugged up on the beach,” Sandi spoke, shoving the iPad in Joanna’s face. “Do you understand if this shit goes up in smoke, so do we?”
Janet snatched the iPad from Sandi and scrolled through the images of them hugged up in a cabana and another of Joanna on her knees between his legs. “How many times have I told y’all to keep this shit out of the public eye?”
On cue, Malik strolled in from his run, sweaty and confused about why all three women held a pensive expression. “What’s wrong?”
“The blogs, somehow, have picked up you getting your little dick sucked on the beach,” Janet huffed. “I don’t know what’s worse, not sticking to the plan or getting caught right before you have your way.”
Janet tossed the iPad on the couch and stomped off. “I’ll make some calls and have this disappear just like that night you two got drunk at the club and got caught with your tongues down each other’s throats. Malik, pack your shit, you got to beat your fiancée home.”
“Shit,” Sandi blew. “Emani is going to lose her shit.”
Malik turned to look at her. “Aren’t you her manager? Fix this. The fuck you standing there for.”
“Malik,” Joanna finally spoke up.
“Don’t say shit to me right now. I’m a week from marrying her and having access to her shit and this is about to fuck up everything. Get this shit packed up.”