“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied anxiously. A haircut wasn’t a life-changing experience for some women, but for Billie, cutting her hair was a declaration of her independence.
“All right.” He popped his lips. “Well, let’s go get ’em.”
Thirty minutes later, Delicious spun her chair around so she could view herself. Billie could hardly recognize the woman staring back at her. She looked like an entirely different person. Her brown eyes sparkled, and her cheekbones seemed higher and more defined. She even noticed that she sat up straighter.
“Delicious, you have outdone yourself,” Billie said in awe.
“Well, it didn’t take much. You’re gorgeous, girl.”
“Thank you. Let me get my wallet so I can pay you.”
Billie was so overwhelmed with excitement that she didn’t even look up when the salon door opened. If she did, she would’ve noticed Ashton swoop in with her new personal assistant, Hadley, and bodyguard, Crusher. As always, Ashton was the epitome of a diva. Everybody in the salon wanted her fitted Balmain leather jacket, black V-neck tee, black leather skinny-leg pants, suede calf gold-studded boots, and watersnake satchel.
“Oh my God, it’s Ashton!” One of the ladies in the waiting area shrieked. “Can I please have your autograph?” The lady rushed over. “My daughter loves you.”
“Umm . . .” Ashton shielded the left side of her face with her left hand and gave her assistant a stern look. “Handle this, please.”
“Yes, ma’am. Excuse me, everyone!” Hadley clapped her hands. “Ashton is not here to sign autographs, take pictures, or socialize. As a matter of fact, don’t even look her way. If any of you even so much as breathe her way, Crusher will have no choice but to step in and take care of the situation. Hopefully, I’ve made myself clear.”
“So, I take that as a no on the autograph,” the lady said, outdone.
“Oh my God, get her away,” Ashton shrilled. “I think I’m starting to get hives.”
Crusher growled, scaring the living daylights out of the woman.
“This bitch.” Delicious curled his upper lip.
“You can’t stand her ass either?” Billie handed him his payment.
“Hell naw, I don’t like that ho. The bitch tone deaf and got two left feet. I swear to God I can’t stand her ass. I been tellin’ Mina to cuss her stuck-up ass out for the longest, but she won’t ’cause the lip-syncing ho brings publicity to the shop. But you know what I say. Fuck all that, ’cause that bitch got one time to come at me crazy, and I’ma stick one of these Marcels up her ass.”
Billie laughed as Ashton walked toward the back and their eyes met. At first Ashton didn’t know where she knew Billie from. Her face looked familiar, but she couldn’t pinpoint how she knew her.
Is she a fan, or one of State’s sideline hoes?
Ashton wondered.
Then she remembered that night in Vegas when State ran into Dylan. Billie was Dylan’s homegirl. This was perfect. Ashton hadn’t planned on letting State’s indiscretion go past the four walls of their home, but there was absolutely no way she could pass up the opportunity to send Dylan’s ass a message.
“Belinda, isn’t it?” She pushed her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose.
“No, sweetie, it’s Billie.” Billie rolled her neck.
“Whateva.” Ashton waved her hand. “You and Dylan are friends, right?”
“We sure are. She’s my best friend, to be exact. Why?”
“Okay then, best friend, do me a favor and tell that skank whore to stay the fuck away from my husband.”
“Oh, shit.” Delicious placed his hand on his heart, appalled.
Every woman in the salon stopped talking and focused in on the conversation.
“Excuse me?” Billie stood up, ready to attack.
“Don’t even think about puttin’ your hands on me, trashy. Crusher.” Ashton snapped her fingers.
Like a lap dog, Crusher immediately stepped up, fully prepared to hem Billie up if need be.
“You better fall yo’ monkey ass back!” Billie shot him a look that could kill. “Now, back to you, fire crotch. I don’t need to tell Dylan shit. What you need to do is check yo’ so-called husband. Dylan don’t want him. When she was seein’ him, she didn’t even know he was married to you. And when she found out, she left his ass alone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, pardon my back.” Billie picked up her purse, ready to leave.
“I’ll let you go, but before you do, you might wanna ask your girl what she was doing at the Super 8 motel three weeks ago.”
Billie wished it was all a lie and that Ashton was just talkin’ out of her ass, but it all made sense. Dylan was never quiet, subdued, and moody, but in the past month, that was all she’d been. Angel had confided in her that things between him and Dylan had been rocky. On top of that, every time Billie called her, she never answered the phone, or when she wanted to go to lunch, Dylan was always sick or busy. Totally embarrassed and pissed, Billie walked out of the salon without saying another word. It made no sense to continue to defend Dylan to Ashton when she had her best friend to confront.
“If you’ve ever kept a secret from the one you love, this is what it feels like.”
—Keri Hilson, “Tell Him the Truth”
Chapter 20
Things between Dylan and Angel had been better than ever since they returned from L.A. Dylan couldn’t think of a thing she didn’t like about him. She loved the way he said good morning, he called her baby, but most of all the fact that he loved her even though she was a train wreck.
That afternoon, she stood in front of her walk-in closet. She was trying to figure out just what she would take to Vegas with her for Angel’s fight.
Angel and his team of people had been training non-stop. Now it was a week before the bout, and they were going to fly to Vegas that night for the last stretch of training. Dylan was so proud of him. It hadn’t been easy preparing for the biggest fight of his career while being in a new relationship with a woman who had been giving him grief, and traveling back and forth between two states while training, but Angel’s love for her never waivered. He stuck with her despite her many flaws, and she loved him even more for it. Dylan had so much to do in so little time.
Their flight was scheduled to leave at seven that night, and it was already 4:30 and she was nowhere near ready. Purses, six-inch heels, and hundreds of designer duds were thrown about the room. Angel was going to kill her if he got back from the barber shop and she wasn’t packed and ready to go. He would be happy that she hadn’t spent a dime on anything new, which had been extremely hard for her. It wasn’t like she had the means to anyway, but at least she was trying. While debating on taking her Bottega Veneta Marco Polo luggage collection or her Louis Vuitton monogram set, she heard a loud knock on the door.
“His ass done forgot his keys again.” She shook her head as she went to open it.
But it wasn’t Angel who was knocking; it was Billie.
“Now, that is cute.” She admired her hair. “Turn around,” Dylan beamed, not noticing the menacing scowl on Billie’s face.
“So, how long did you think you could keep it a secret?” Billie seethed with anger.
“Keep what a secret?” Dylan turned around.
“That you’ve been fuckin’ State behind my brother’s back.”
Dylan stopped dead in her tracks. The first thing to do in her mind was to lie, but it was useless trying to get anything past Billie. She was like a K-9 dog. She sensed bullshit from a mile away.
“Answer me, bitch!” Billie screamed.
“Billie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”
“I knew it.” Billie stomped her foot and swung her arm. “I fuckin’ knew it. You been actin’ hella funny here lately. Now it all makes sense.”
“You have to understand; it just happened,” Dylan reasoned.
“What, you slipped and his dick landed in you?”
“No!”
“Well, what then?”
“I don’t know. I got upset one night—”
“Don’t even waste your breath.” Billie waved her hand. “I don’t even wanna hear it. Like, don’t you feel stupid?”
“Yes!” Dylan began to cry.
“Oh, bitch, don’t cry now!” Billie eyed her with disgust. “I can’t believe you! Oh, but wait; yes, I can! This ain’t nothing but typical Dylan! You don’t care about anybody but yourself!”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh my God, you’re so stupid. I swear you’re just like your mother,” Billie shot, not giving a fuck.
“What?” Dylan , visibly hurt.
“Yeah, I said it.” Billie stood back on one leg and rolled her neck. “You and Candy are just alike! Two whore-ass peas in a pod! Y’all put your feelings before anybody else’s, no matter if it hurts them or not! You couldn’t even be there for me when my husband served me with divorce papers ’cause you was so busy tryin’ to make a niggah that don’t give two shits about you see how much he’d hurt you! Nobody comes before State, not even yourself!” She pointed at Dylan. “You will play a muthafucka left and right for his ass, and for what? That niggah don’t even like you. All you good for is giving some head, but shit, you probably ain’t even good at that!”
“A’ight, Billie, I understand that you’re mad at me, but you going a li’l too far.” Dylan gave her a sharp look.
“Oh, naw, I ain’t took it far enough. Did you even think about how much this is going to hurt my brother? Nooooo, you didn’t.” Billie threw her hands up in the air. “That’s not in your makeup. I feel sorry for you, though, Dylan ’cause you had a real good thing going wit’ my brother. He really cared about you, but once he finds out, he’s not going to want to have anything to do with you. I tell you one thing, though: you’re not going to go another day without tellin’ him what you did.”
“Billie, I can’t,” Dylan pleaded with tears in her eyes. “Please don’t make me tell him. I love him so much. I can’t lose him, Billie. I can’t. Just—” Her chest heaved up and down. “Give me some time. I can’t do this to him now. His fight is in a week.”
“You should’ve thought about that when yo’ ratchet ass spread your legs for that dirty-dick muthafucka. Now, you gon’ tell my brother tonight or else I will,” Billie threatened before slamming the door behind her.
Dylan clutched a wad of tissue in her hand while rocking back and forth. Her right leg wouldn’t stop trembling, and the hundreds of tears that poured from her eyes wouldn’t stop falling. This feeling was far worse than the one she felt when she learned State was married, mainly because she wasn’t the one being hurt; she was the one doing the hurting. All of her life, she’d searched for a man like Angel, and in a matter of minutes, she was going to lose him. No amount of “I’m sorry” or “Will you forgive me?” would do the trick.
Once she told him the truth, he’d never look at her the same again. He’d probably hate her. If she were him, she would. What she’d done was despicable and unforgiveable. Dylan was so nervous that her stomach ached. She wanted to pee, but gripping fear held her in place. She wondered if she should start out by saying “I didn’t see it coming” or “it wasn’t on purpose.”
Then the sound of Angel’s keys entering the lock pierced the silence. She wanted to run and hide or dream it all away, but Dylan couldn’t sweep this under the rug like she did everything else in her life. She was finally forced to deal with herself and the poor choices she’d continued to make.
“What you doing sittin’ there?” Angel asked, placing his keys in his pants pocket. “Why you ain’t packing?”
Dylan tried to speak, but the huge lump in her throat wouldn’t let her. He was so handsome. The black Yankees cap, heather gray crew neck sweatshirt, gray jeans, and Christian Lacroix sneakers enhanced his sex appeal.
“Are you cryin’?” He eyed her, alarmed. “What’s wrong wit’ you?”
Dylan hung her head low and wailed.
“Did somebody die or something? Talk to me,” Angel demanded, sitting beside her.
“I love you so much.” She looked up. Her eyes were swollen with tears.
“I love you too, so what’s wrong?” Angel wiped her face.
“I fucked up.”
“How?”
“I did something so wrong.”
“What?”
Dylan blew her nose and continued to cry.
“Yo’, tell me what the deal is, ’cause you trippin’ right now,” Angel demanded to know.
Dylan rubbed her face then looked off to the side. “I . . . I cheated on you.”
Once she said the words, an earsplitting silence filled the room.
“What?” Angel’s nostrils flared.
“I’m so sorry. I was just so fucked up in the head, and that night you told me you didn’t want me to come to L.A., I thought you were cheating on me—”
He stopped her mid-sentence. “So, instead of coming to me like a woman, you fuck some other niggah? Who was it?”
There was so much to say, but so little time, despite Dylan’s empty mouth. What she needed to say would destroy everything they’d built.
“Oh my God,” she groaned, ready to vomit.
“Who was it, Dylan?”
“State,” she finally confessed. “But I ended it weeks ago.”
Angel laughed. Now everything made sense. Prior to Dylan’s confession of everlasting love, she hadn’t been hugging, kissing, or holding hands with him like she used to. Anything he said or did resulted in her having an attitude, and it was all because she was fucking State.
“Aw, man.” He stood up, seething with anger. “This shit is wild.”
“I never wanted to hurt you, Angel. I swear to God. You’re my life.”
Angel was at a loss for words. The niggah in him wanted to choke the shit out of her and call her every foul name under the sun, but the man in him understood that Dylan wasn’t even worth it. Hearing that she’d fucked the man she’d cried on his shoulder about hurt like hell, but he couldn’t let that get in the way of what was important, which was his fight. Once he beat the living daylights out of Sanchez, he’d deal with the pounding sensation of throbbing pain in his chest.
“It’s all good, ma.”
“No, it’s not, because you’re going to leave me.” Dylan’s chest heaved up and down.
“That is true,” he shot back. “Look, I’m up. I’ll send someone to get my things.”
“Angel, please don’t go. Just let me explain,” she pleaded.
“Nah, man.” He walked toward the door.
“But I love you.”
“Is that right?”
“You know I do.”
“I don’t know shit!” he yelled, wanting to knock her in her mouth.
“Yes, you do. Everything I said to you was real, babe. You’re my heart.” She placed her hands on his chest.
“Man, I’m out,” Angel said, unable to take anymore.
“No! Angel, please don’t go!” She tugged on his arm.
“Dylan, chill out. Let me go.”
“But if I do, you’re gonna leave me for good.” She held on to him as tight as she could.
“Huhhhhhhhhh,” he groaned. Angel was trying his best not to feel a thing, but the more Dylan cried and begged, the more he wanted to break down. All he wanted was for her to let him go in peace.
“I can’t breathe,” he said as a single tear slipped out of the corner of his eye. Angel tried to pry Dylan’s hand from around his neck, but her grip was too tight.
“Baby, please just stay.” She kissed him hungrily on the neck.
“I can’t. You gotta let me go, ma,” he said.
“No, I can’t,” Dylan replied, knowing full well what he meant.
“But you have to,” he cried.
“Why? We can make this work.”
“I don’t wanna make it work.” Angel wiped his face.
“You don’t mean that.” Dylan held his face in the palms of her hands.
“Dylan, let me go, man.”
“Nooooo,” she whined.
Fed up, Angel pushed her off of him with so much force her entire body jerked back as she slid across the room. He didn’t want to put his hands on her, but Dylan just wasn’t getting the fact that he was done. He would never fuck with her again. He didn’t even want to see her face. The sight made him sick. In a matter of seconds, she’d turned his love for her into hate. He couldn’t give a fuck about the tears that spilled from her tranquil eyes. At this point, all Dylan could do was cry him a river, build a bridge, and get over it.
“Get the fuck off me! You fucked up, so deal wit’ it!” He screwed up his face, heated.
“You don’t mean that.” Dylan shook her head. “You still love me like I love you.”
“Yo’, it’s obvious you can’t handle the truth, so don’t fuck wit’ it! I’m through fuckin’ wit’ you! Don’t call me, don’t text me, nothing! It’s over!”
With that said, Angel left Dylan behind to wallow in her own misery.
For weeks, Dylan drove herself insane wishing she could touch Angel’s face, but the truth remained that he was gone and there was nothing she could do to get him back. The only piece of him that she had left was what she saw of him on television. She’d ordered the fight and watched it a million times. But even seeing his face on TV didn’t take away the fact that life was so cold without him. Everything was falling apart at the seams. She was behind on her rent; the phone was disconnected, and the gas and electric was next. Dylan would give her heart, soul, anything to have Angel back in her life again.
The hold he had on her was too strong to let go. Every second of the day, thoughts of him and how things used to be ran through her mind. On top of that, she couldn’t stop wondering what he was doing or who he was with. All she knew was that she couldn’t take another day waking up alone. She was sick of crying.
The champagne diet she was on didn’t help much either. It only intensified the ache in her chest. Dylan was bitter and miserable. She needed her man back in the worst way. They should’ve been together, but now all she had was photographic proof that he ever existed in her life.