Playing Hard To Get

Lucy gave her a look. Even Ms. Pearl woke up from her nap to look at Troy.

“What? It’s true,” Troy said.

“Well, since we took that ridiculous therapy workshop—‘What Mommies—’”

“‘—Can Do.’” Troy finished the title of the three-week workshop she’d taken with her mother and grandmother after her true lineage was revealed.

“Whatever it was…Anyway,” Lucy went on, “she asked me not to intrude anymore and I’m taking my hands off of it.”

“But it’s not intruding if I am asking you for the money, Lucy. And I am asking. It’s really important. I—”

Lucy waved her off again.

“She said you’d have a story and I was to respond that if you weren’t stripping or using drugs, I could say no.” Lucy dropped the piece of biscotti she was holding. “Oh, my Lord, is it drugs? Did you turn to cocaine?”

“No, Lucy. It’s not that.”

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“Troy, I know this is painful for you. And I hate to admit it, but that mother of yours is right,” Lucy said. “I’ve spoiled you. Given you too much for too long. Now it’s time for you to get your own. You went to college. Law school too. I didn’t do either of those things. I had to depend on people all of my life to get the things I have. The things I’ve given you. But the point wasn’t for you to depend on me. The point was for you to be able to go out into the world and be able to depend on yourself.”

Troy stared at her grandmother.

“What?” Lucy shrugged her shoulders and the extra fabric of the Yuzen floral caftan that covered her petite frame fell to the floor.

“You sound just like her,” Troy protested. “Did she make you memorize that?”

“Word for word.”

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While she was standing in a stall with an all-black horse named Shalamar, Tasha looked like she was either going on a date or trying to find one. And this was because she wasn’t simply visiting the exclusive New Jersey boarding stable to feed hay to the impulsive birthday present Lionel had bought for Toni when she’d turned one. She was indeed awaiting the arrival of a very special date—a play date. Lionel had agreed to bring the girls to the stable for an afternoon picnic. A promise of spring in the wintry overcast meant that she could wear her tan Lauren riding pants with a fitted blouse and Burberry scarf without looking cold. She looked fabulous, stunning. The only thing that could make her trip to the stables more complete was a photographer and maybe better lighting. By now Lionel had to miss her and she wanted him to see why. She’d stopped at Gray’s Papaya on the way to the tunnel into Jersey. She had Lionel’s favorite—three naked dogs and a grape fruit drink in the picnic basket.

Tasha was practicing how she’d run toward the girls when she noticed a white woman pushing a stroller carrying two black babies toward her. Well, the woman wasn’t white, she was Latina, but with the poor lighting and Tasha’s quickly changed demeanor that wouldn’t matter when she shared the details with Troy later that night on the phone.

“Who the hell are you?” Tasha demanded, walking toward the woman and leaving the basket of food on the floor where Shalamar could have a special treat. “And why the hell do you have my children? Where’s Lionel?” Tasha twisted and turned her neck in every possible direction to find her husband.

Tasha snatched the stroller from the woman, shaking the girls from side to side. She felt fear in the center of her chest and then fury in the balls of her fists at even the idea of this woman touching her children, caring for them. And who was she? Toni looked up at her mother and then at the woman who’d been changing her diapers for three days. Without saying a word from Tasha, the woman pulled a cell phone from her purse.

“He’s on the phone?” Tasha snatched the phone.

“No, you didn’t just grab my phone,” the woman snapped, reclaiming the phone with more force than Tasha. Then Tasha realized that she wasn’t dealing with a stereotypical caretaker or whatever clichés she was thinking about the woman. She wasn’t docile or slow or scared. She spoke perfect English. And her voice had enough snap-crackle-and-pop28 in it to let Tasha know in a second that she was a boricua, a nuyorican29 and while Tasha didn’t know that she was on a full scholarship at Columbia University and only babysitting to keep her little sister in private school, it was clear that she was ready for whatever fight Tasha was serving up. Really, that was why Lionel had chosen her of all the nannies he’d interviewed.

But Tasha had her own snap-crackle-and-pop too.

“I’ll snatch whatever I want to snatch!” She took the phone back from the woman for no reason other than to prove that she could.

Again, little Toni looked from her mother to the woman.

“Oh, hell no!” The woman snatched the earrings from her ears, balled up her fists, and pushed her weight back on her right leg.

“What are you going to do?” Tasha threw the phone down and balled up her fists too. If anyone was anywhere near the stable that Shalamar shared with two other horses, which happened to be away at competition, now would be the time to step in and stop the madness, but no one was and so it was on like Elizabeth Taylor at a diamond shop.

Toni chucked her bottle onto the ground, but neither woman—her mother nor her new nanny—noticed.

“Whooooaaa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Wait!” Tamia said, running up to the women and jumping between them just before the two began to tussle.

“I’ll beat your little ass,” Tasha said as Tamia held her and pushed back.