CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

SHONDRA:

Six years ago…

I closed the toilet seat and sat on it. It was the third time I'd thrown up that day. I'd read about morning sickness, and I was one of the lucky ones to start at five weeks. Who knew how long it would continue?

Till you end it tomorrow.

I wasn't mother material. I had a business to run and things to do. That was why I made an appointment at the clinic for the next day at noon. I hated to leave work after I neglected it so much while I was with... him, but if I didn't get my... matter taken care of... I wasn't sure if I ever would. I really didn't— 

"Shondra?" My assistant called through the door. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, Debra," I responded weakly. "I'll be out in a minute." It took more like ten before I rose from the throne, my hand over my mouth in case I had another urge to spew more of my breakfast. 

Thankfully, I didn't. 

At the sink, I washed my hands and brushed my teeth. Using a cupful of mouthwash to rid my breath of any traces of half-digested egg and ham burrito. I had a meeting with a possible new investor and funky breath just wouldn't fly. 

True to his word, not only did Mr. Hammerstein take care of Vee's custody problem, but he also sent me people who were genuinely interested in my brand. I had met with four so far. They all wanted various percentages of my company in exchange for their money, time and expertise. I had done my research on all of them and the one I wanted to work with the most was the one I would meet with in...

Ten minutes!

With one last look in the mirror — not a pretty picture with circles under my eyes and worry scrunching my brow—I opened the door and flipped off the light, ready to face the day.

The woman who walked into my conference room (which doubled as the break room in other times) was heavily pregnant. Judging by the way her beige cotton shirt draped over bowling ball stomach, I'd say at least eight months.

She was famous enough to where I was sure I heard she was expecting, but with everything going on in my own life, I didn't remember the facts of others. Just those in my immediate circle, and barely that.

I blew out an annoyed breath.

Since I found out an egg of mine had been fertilized, her type was all I saw. Women with bellies both big and small... round or drooping. Babies in strollers, pushed by women with wide smiles and sunglasses, happily chatting about their bundles of joy...

"Sorry, I'm late. Things are getting difficult these days." She fluttered her hands and rolled her eyes. "I just discovered this morning I couldn't fit behind the wheel and had to wait for my husband's driver to return from dropping him off." She brushed back her Senegalese twists, pushed up her silver tortoiseshell glasses, and met me halfway to shake my hand. 

As we sat, Debra came in pushing the catering cart. "What can I get for...Oh!" I glanced up to find my assistant's face had gone a few shades lighter than her normal sienna. "You know," Debra said, more flustered than I have ever seen her, "when your secretary called to schedule the meeting, I didn't put two and two together...you are Ms. Malcolm. Ms. Randy Malcolm."

Ms. Randy laughed. "Did you think I was a man? The name Randy throws people off, I'll admit."

Debra had regained her color and her checks had flushed a darker shade or red. "No, ma'am." Debra, a petite woman with a small frame, shook her head reverently, her chin nearly brushing her chest and her large brown eyes round with awe. "Your clothing line is..." She placed a hand to her throat and newfangled like it was her only duty. "There are no words."

Debra wasn't the only one intimidated. I was that and more.

Randy Rags was a staple in the African American...hell, in any community. Like Jordan's, those with any fashion sense or a collector of wearable art, had a Randy Rag hanging in their closet or framed on their wall. Randy Malcolm was a legend. Married to an NBA star turned successful restaurateur, it was rumored she had made him sign a prenuptial. Burl came to him with that much bank.

Ms. Randy's full lips, glossed in a natural tone that went well with her ebony skin, parted in a wide smile. "I brought some samples for you two— "Debra squealed and I shot her a disapproving look. My assistant didn't notice. She hung onto every word coming from Ms. Randy's mouth. "My driver Mike is getting them from the Rover."

"Oh, thank you, Ms. Randy!" Debra clapped her hands over her mouth, looking like a five-year-old that said a dirty word. "Oh, may I call you that?"

I was never one to get between a person and their idol, but Debra was working my nerves. I needed to get these meetings started so I could leave early and mentally prepare myself for the next day. 

Fat chance of that.

With a happy, pregnant woman in the room, it would take me all night to get into the right mind for what awaited me tomorrow.

"Thank you, Debra," I said, with a sweet tone but a stern look. "That will be all."

Without removing her eyes from my visitor, she whined, "But Ms. Randy hasn't had a thing to drink. What would—"

"Thank you Debra, you can leave...now."

She pouted, throwing a quick glance in my direction. "Don't you want me to take notes. I can--"

I swiveled my neck and spoke through gritted teeth, "Burl, if you don't leave right this minute..."

With pursed lips full of disappointment, Debra left, softly closing the door behind her.

"I'm sorry about that Ms. Malcolm." To her, queen of an empire, I probably seemed like a real rube. 

Her genuine smile lit up her large brown eyes, putting me at ease. "Call me Randy, please."

I nodded and scooted the cart closer. "What would you like to drink?"

Randy pulled some crackers from her Hermes Firkin. The one which cost fifty million times more than my mom's car was worth. "Just some water please," she replied, opening the wrapper with an expert hand. I always needed to use scissors. 

I pulled a bottle of Fiji from the bottom rack of the cart, unscrewed the top, and poured her a glass. "Would you like some ice?"

"Nah, that's fine." I placed the glass on a napkin and she snatched it up. Thirst and pregnancy must be a thing because she drained that glass in almost one go. As she tilted it higher, the water almost gone, she jumped. Liquid dribbled onto her cream linen tunic and a few spots landed on her white linen pants. 

She smacked her lips and wiped her palm over her chin. I relaxed even further at her real folk actions. This woman wasn't a snob or some rich bitch. She was just like me. 

"Whoa," Randy said, fanning herself. "I needed that. Damn hormones."

Against my better judgement, I opened the pregnancy can of worms. "Is it tough?"

Randy rolled her eyes and ask-ed behind her teeth. "Yes, I was pregnant with F inlay in the summer as well." I followed Randy on Ins ta and I 'd seen pics of her adorable two-year-old son. Curly blonde hair like his daddy, he had the cutest baby grin I had ever seen. Randy shook her head and resumed her fanning. I had a mind to get up and tell Debra to turn down the air. "Damn if I didn't forget about the heat and how it affects me, but I wouldn't trade being pregnant for the world."

"What's so good about it?" That sounded shitty and petulant, but I didn't mean it is such.

Randy smiled. "Well, it's the wondering I like the best. Wondering what the baby will sound like...look like...who he/she/they will take after..." Randy's eyes went dreamy. I assumed she was off in baby land, but I was wrong. When she came back, she gave me an impish grin. "I just met you, and we haven't even done any kind of business, but I sense you are a real woman, like me." Randy looked over her shoulder for eavesdroppers. Finding none, she said with a half laugh, "Shondra, sex when you are pregnant." She fanned herself harder, "is out of this damn world. My husband...well, let's just say, not fitting behind the wheel wasn't the only reason I was late. "She stopped fanning herself, and slapped the table, letting out a string of cackles. 

Just like Ms. Jenkins used to do.

Of course, that set me thinking on that day in the park and...

Axel.

 For some unknown reason, tears sprang to my eyes. My eyelashes worked overtime to blink them back. 

Randy didn't notice my discomfort as her head had turned to the door at Deana's loudmouth exclaiming, "Oh, I want this," and "This is just too cute!"

I sighed and heaved myself up and pushed my ex (could I even call him that?) to the back of mind. I'd pull him out as I did each night, revisiting the good times we'd experienced in D.C. right before my world exploded from the inside out. 

Randy, already unscrewing another bottle and munching on the cracker hanging from her mouth, nodded. "Shondra, do you have kids?"

I gave her a fake, wistful smile. "No. Not yet."

Especially after tomorrow.

I wasn't married with a good husband like Randy. My company wasn't a household name like hers. I fought and struggled every day, just to keep my head above water. How could I bring a child into that?