Page 19 of His Weekend Girl
She became wealthier when she married Brad (of course, his name was Brad!) Whitaker, a real estate mogul. She was a mother of twins, who she only saw for Facebook and Instagram posts. The nanny raised the kids.
Cokeheads by the highest degree,Grant confided in Trixie,if you see either of them playing with their nose, they’re hoping to sniff up the rest of the residue or to make sure they’re not bleeding their brains out.
Second was Mercedes Adeyemi. Until Trixie’s arrival, she was the sole Black woman of the bunch but was well-indoctrinated. Her blonde weave (or was it a wig? Trixie couldn’t tell as she tried to find the woman’s hairline) was bone straight to yaki perfection. She was model-thin, had razor-sharp cheekbones, and a stare that could cut glass. She was the princess of a Nigerian royal family. She was the mother of one and only one by her declaration.
Her family are fucking scammers,Grant warned,do not leave any credit cards or let her talk you into giving her fucking thing. She would scam your dirty panties off you if she could.
Next was Erica Steele, Rex’s wife. She seemed to be second-in-command behind Charlotte. She was Asian, short, a little pudgy, but worst off – fake nice and she didn’t try to hide it. She grew up comfortably upper-middle-class but hit the rich sugar daddy jackpot when she met Rex. She was the mother of a boy who was rather insufferable because his mother was the epitome of a Boy Mom.
He cheats on her every chance she gets and she doesn’t care,Grant explained,no piece of ass is going to make her stop going to Hermes.
Last but certainly not least was Charlotte, the runaway bride. How she managed to go from Grant to Nathan without missing a beat and even more impressive – without losing any of her social circle – was astounding. She was Ms. Social Climber who kissed enough asses, and was in enough circles to always make sure she had a spot at anyone’s table. She was always one of the first invites and never one of the last ones.
Betrayal hurts the worst when it comes to familywas all Grant would say about her. He quickly turned on the radio and they drove in a comfortable silence until he was ready to speak again.
Armed with that knowledge, Trixie played nice as she watched with the same intensity as a spectator at Wimbledon. The women flowed back and forth between each other, sharing anecdotes andyou had to be there-type of stories. All the while, they studied Trixie and wondered how in the hell did she land Grant.
Trixie was a millennial and knocking on 30. She was born during a time whenMartin, Living Single, and New York Undercoverwere TV mainstays on Thursday nights. She was raised in an era where baggy jeans, wearing backward clothing and openly talking about sex were normal conversations.
Grant was very much an unapologetic forty-five-year-old Xennial – too old to be considered a millennial but too young to be considered Generation X. He could remember all of the aforementioned as if it just happened yesterday and was old enough to remember how life was like before the introduction of Beyonce’s internet.
He could remember “We Are the World”,The Cosby Show,and how a whole generation of teens destroyed the ozone layer due to how much Aqua Net they used up.
They were, by all means, from two very different worlds both financially and generationally. It was an odd pairing to anyone who had eyes.
“What type of name is Trixie?” Mercedes asked with an accent that was somewhat Nigerian, somewhat British, and somewhat Gru fromDespicable Me. “It seems rather…interesting.”
Trixie smiled. It was an old insult she’d gotten her entire life. Her family nicknamed her Trixie, which was short for Traci.Soon, everyone called her Trixie and she didn’t bother to correct it. “It’s just a regular first name.”
“But I don’t think I ever heard of a human being called that.” Molly chimed in as she sniffed. “Your name, that is.”
“Yeah, I think one of my neighbors has a chihuahua named Trixie!” Erica replied.
“It’s very much screams poodle, yes.” Mercedes nodded.
Trixie continued to smile. They were calling her a bitch without actually saying so. She was rather impressed by how sleek they were with the insult. “Poodles are the most sophisticated and classy bitches that many owners of high society seek. They often win dog shows and have a lifestyle not even the richest human could understand.” She sipped her champagne. “So, it’s fitting a poodle would have my name.”
The women stared at her in shock and disbelief as Trixie continued to sip her champagne and smile. Oh,those bitcheswere not expecting that retort. “Very well,” Erica cleared her throat.
Mercedes looked at Trixie a bit closer. “Have we met before?”
Trixie shook her head. “I don’t believe so.”
“I could’ve sworn I’ve met you before,” Mercedes nodded, “I’m just trying to remember where?”
“Do you two hang out in the same circles?” Molly sniffed.
“No,” Trixie and Mercedes answered. They both had the same disgust in their inflections when they did so and promptly looked at each other.
“So, Grant tells me you two met at a coffee shop?” Charlotte interjected. “That seems rather odd. I didn’t know Grant likes coffee.”
I like coffee, and tea sometimes, but I prefer whiskey. If I have coffee and whiskey, that’s a bonus.Trixie remembered his words. “He does.”
Charlotte waited for Trixie to give her more details and was disappointed when the conversation ended there. “Very well,” she sipped champagne, “and how did he propose? That’s a very lovely ring you’re wearing!”
Trixie played with the sparkling canary yellow diamond. Every time she looked down at it, she was more in love with it. She was so sad she was going to have to depart with it come Monday. “Just simple. Got down on one knee and asked,” she covered, “we had dinner and then he proposed.”
“Where did he propose?” Erica asked.
