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once said. “Next thang ya know, she’ll get lazy. If yo’ mama don’t get that weight off, I’ma beat it off of her. Every day.”
    I stood in my foyer. What the hell was life all about? I could buy anything and practically anyone, but I couldn’t make my old man accept me. Racing to the bathroom off the foyer, I heaved the contents of my late breakfast/early lunch inside the toilet. Wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
    When I looked at Seven yesterday, I had to leave the house. All I heard then and now was my father’s raging disgust toward my mother because she’d gained a few pounds. Seven was right. I should’ve said something sooner. I should’ve shared my horrible childhood with her, instead of suppressing my anger. I feared one day waking up like him. Putting my hands on Seven in a way she didn’t deserve frightened me.
    Rinsing my mouth, I prayed Seven was gone. I had to be harsh on her to ensure she’d taken me seriously.
    I raced to the second floor, yelling, “Seven! Seven! Come here right now!” sounding just like him when he’d yelled at my mother.
    Only my echo resounded.
    Marching to the bedroom, I spotted the pile of clothes spilling over the sides of Seven’s suitcase. “Where are you, Seven?” I called out.
    No answer.
    â€œFuck!” When I threw her suitcase to the floor, a picture slid along the white carpet. I picked it up. Stared. It was a photo of us on our first date. Her smile made me smile. What had happened to me, to us? I loved this woman. I dialed Seven’s cell. The call went straight to voice mail.
    I speed dialed Zena, tapping my foot until she answered. “Yes, Maverick. What is it?”
    Calmly, I asked, “Uh, do you know where Seven is?”
    Zena snapped, “No. Don’t you? You’re the one who kicked my friend out. If I were her, I wouldn’t marry your ass.”
    â€œZena, I never kicked Seven out. She was feeling anxious about not fitting into her wedding dress. We discussed it. She decided going away to a weight-loss camp was what she wanted to do. I simply supported her,” I lied.
    â€œThat’s not how she explained it to me. Besides, nothing justifies kicking her out while she’s carrying your child,” Zena countered.
    Carrying what? As in pregnant? Bullshit. “Of course not. I’d never do such a thing. Seven isn’t pregnant. She’s feeling embarrassed and self-conscious about her weight gain. And since you’ve lost weight, Seven is…well, she’s admitted to me she’s slightly jealous,” I replied, then asked, “Where’d she go without any clothes? Is she with you?”
    Was Seven really pregnant? Zena was lying. Seven would never leave without telling me we were having a child…unless she was pregnant by some other man.
    â€œNo. She’s gone. She’ll be back in five weeks, she said.”
    â€œSix weeks,” I corrected her, asking again, “Where’d she go?”
    â€œShe didn’t say. All I know is my best friend is hurting, and it’s all your damn fault. You could’ve convinced her to stay. She could’ve worked out with me or a personal trainer.”
    I wasn’t surprised Seven had shared with Zena the true story. I was stunned about the pregnant part. Seven was either a liar or a cheater. Either way, she’d made my decision to pursue other options easier.
    â€œChanging the subject, I want to retain your PR firm to promote my new ventures. Are you available for dinner tomorrow night? My yacht. I’ll have my driver pick you up at six.”
    A pregnant pause. I felt Zena smiling through the phone when she replied, “I wanted to represent your empire before you met Seven. You won’t regret hiring my firm.”
    â€œPerfect. Hopefully, neither of us will have any regrets,” I said, ending the call.
    Women weren’t loyal to one another when