Material Girl 2: Labels and Love by Keisha Ervin Page B

best thing to do was take matters into her own hands, Dylan did the one thing she hardly ever did: pray.
    Hey, God, she closed her eyes and pressed her palms together. How are you? I pray that all is well ’cause it’s surely not with me. Look, Big Guy, I know that I don’t talk to you that much, but please, I’m askin’ you, please don’t let me lose my baby. And I know that you’re probably rollin’ your eyes at me right now and sayin’ to the überfabulous Lena Horne, this chile better make up her mind ’cause an hour ago she said that she didn’t want it. But God, I do. I really, really do. I want my baby more than I want a pair of Giuseppe shoes. This baby is all I have, and I promise I’m gonna do right by it. Just please, please, don’t take my baby. I love you more than I love Prada, amen.
    Opening her eyes, Dylan inhaled deeply and hoped that God would answer her prayers when the door opened. She hoped it was Billie and Tee-Tee. She’d called them right after dialing 911. Instead, she found the doctor.
    “Hey, Doc, got any good news?” she asked on pins and needles.
    “Well, Dylan,” Dr. Crane looked over his chart. “Your cervix is closed, and I don’t see any evidence of a rupture or miscarriage.”
    “Thank you, Jesus.” Dylan gave a great sigh of relief. “So what was that warm liquid that came out of me?”
    “Just a little pee,” Dr. Crane said with a laugh.
    “Oh,” she placed her hand on her chest, appalled.
    “But I’d like to do an ultrasound just to make sure.” He gave her a warm smile.
    “Cool . . . but you might wanna know before you go down under that I haven’t had a proper bikini wax in months, so it might be like Thrilla in Manila down there.”
    “Okay,” Dr. Crane laughed, leaving the room.
    “Dylan!” Billie rushed past him frantic with Tee-Tee two steps behind her.
    “Hey,” she smiled.
    “Are you okay?” Billie gave her a big bear hug.
    “Yeah, the doctor just told me that I was fine.”
    “Good. Girl, you had me worried sick.” Billie playfully hit her on the arm.
    “Me too,” Tee-Tee popped his lips. “’Cause I was about to be mad as hell if I was gon’ have to take back all that stuff I done bought for that baby.”
    “Tee-Tee, what in the hell have you bought my baby?” Dylan asked, intrigued.
    “None of yo’ damn business. You’ll find out when we have the shower.”
    “Billie, did you call Angel like I asked you?” Dylan asked.
    “Yeah,” Billie answered. “He’s on the way.”
    Although Dylan was upset with him, she knew that he deserved to know what was going on with the baby.
    “So tell me, girl, what the hell happened when you met wit’ Milania today.” Tee-Tee sat at the end of the bed.
    “Ooh, yeah, I wanna know too.” Billie took a seat in a chair.
    “I swear to God, y’all, the only thing I hate more than drugstore makeup is that bitch,” Dylan said with a sudden fierceness.
    “What happened?” Billie asked, dying to know.
    “That heffa is playin’ Angel for a fool. She never wanted us to get along. Her mission was to get me alone so she could tell my ass the fuck off.”
    “What she say?” Tee-Tee drew his head back ready to cut a bitch.
    “First of all, I think the bitch told the paparazzi where we were meeting,” Dylan pointed out.
    “Are you serious?”
    “Yes, so you know every gossip rag in America is going to know that I’m pregnant now.”
    “That’s a mess, but tell us what she said,” Tee-Tee insisted.
    “She told me she ain’t like me and some shit about her being up here,” she raised her left hand up high. “And me being down here,” she placed her right down low.
    “Oh no, she didn’t,” Billie gasped.
    “Oh yes, she did. She said that she and Angel sit up and laugh at me and that they feel sorry for me and that Angel is hers and that nothin’ about that is gonna change unless she wants it to.”
    “Get the . . .” Tee-Tee inhaled deep. “Outta here.”
    “Yes, ma’am,