Free Mama Dearest by E. Lynn Harris Page A

mad when they took her out of court after the jury convicted her. Ava shot me a look that I would never forget. Our relationship had never been a typical mother and daughter one, and we’d enjoyed only fleeting moments of true affection.
    I hate to admit it but whenever I think about seeing Marcus again I’m as excited as a high school girl on her first date. I find myself smiling at the mere thought of him. S. Marcus sends flowers almost every day and I’m always getting texts from him telling me how much he misses me and how he can’t wait to see me again. I would text back
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because I didn’t want to seem too desperate or let him know how much he’d rocked my world during the time we’d spent together.
    I have to dazzle Marcus when he comes to New York, so I’m doing Pilates in the morning and going to the gym every afternoon. I’d packed my gym bag with a change of clothes and was on my way out the door when the phone rang. I look at the call identification and see the name of my real estate agency and pray it’s good news. My funds are almost depleted and having to feed and take care of Ava is putting a further strain on my resources.
    “Hello.”
    “Ms. Braxton, please,” a perky female voice said.
    “This is Yancey Braxton.”
    “Great. Ms. Braxton, this is Linda Huber, Ms. Weeks’s second assistant. She wanted me to see if you were at home this afternoon.”
    “I’m on my way out. Why, does she want to show my place?”
    “No, I was going to drop off your keys.”
    I removed the phone from my ear and looked at it in puzzlement. Am I hearing this dizzy bitch correctly?
    “Why are you going to do that?”
    “Ms. Weeks told me you’d taken your town house off the market.”
    I placed the bag on the floor in disbelief. “Where did she get an idea like that? I still want to sell my house.”
    “Hold on one second.”
    A few moments later Amy came on the line. “Yancey, how are you doing today?”
    “I’m fine, Amy. What is your assistant talking about?”
    “I was told you were taking your property off the market.”
    “Let me ask this question again. Where did you hear that?”
    “About a week ago I had a buyer for your town house. A Russian couple, and I had my other assistant call to arrange a visit. He was already sold, having seen the property online. When my assistant called, she said you told her you weren’t interested in selling. He was willing to pay the 2.3 that we were asking for. Instead, I sold him something similar to your home but cheaper in Harlem.”
    “What!” I screamed into the phone. “Are you fucking kidding me? Does your assistant smoke crack?”
    “Yancey, no, she doesn’t,” she said in an attempt to calm me, “but that’s what she was told. Is that not true? You didn’t talk to my assistant about a week ago?”
    “No, I was still on the road.” Just then I saw the front door open and Ava walked in, wearing big dark glasses and a too-tight purple velour sweatsuit. “Amy, let me call you back. I need to check something out.”
    “Okay, then I’ll hold up on sending your key back, but please let me know what you want to do. I feel like the market is going to heat up very soon.”
    “I will. Thanks, Amy.”
    Ava was sweating like a pig, obviously back from a run. “Girl, I’m tired. I forgot how hard it is working out. I might need to see if I can get me some diet pills or something to get rid of this weight. I need to get me a trainer too. What do you have to eat?”
    I got right to the point. “Did you tell my real estate agent that I wasn’t selling my house?”
    “Did I what?” Ava asked, looking away. I knew this meant she was getting ready to tell me a big fat lie.
    I walked over and directly confronted her. “You heard me. Did you tell someone that I didn’t want to sell my house?”
    “Who told you that?”
    “Ava!” I screamed, stomping my feet. “Just answer my question.”
    “You don’t need to sell this house. This is a