Future Baby Mama [PRN]

zero

June 6th, 2004

Natasha closed her car door, straightening out her silk dress and the flaps on her brown waterfall duster coat. The heels on her black knee-high boots clicked against the blacktopped concrete as she walked up her best friend's driveway.

Her hips swayed from side to side as she walked with a a pep in her steps.

The left corner of her mouth perked upwards as she approached the two wooden French doors, which she figured out were unlocked. She opened one of them, stepping inside the home belonging to her friend and her husband.

She had been here so many times before, each visit was just to see Manuela.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Although, sometimes she ended up face to face with Prince, her husband, who wasn't exactly on her good side.

"Hey Naomi."

Her eyes immediately fell on the man sitting at the breakfast bar, with a plate of hashbrowns and a cup of hot coffee sitting in front of him. He hadn't bothered to raise his head from the middle pages of his newspaper.

She sighed, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

"It's Natasha." She corrected him, placing her purse down on the chair beside his.

"Whatever."

It was like this every single time.

Prince barely paid any attention to her when she was in the room, and when he did he'd make snarky remarks and comments directed at her. He'd always forget her name - calling her any and everything other than Natasha.

As long as it started with an N, it would be her name until she or Manuela would correct him.

Either way, the bottom line was; they absolutely disliked each other. At least that's what Natasha thought.

Since he didn't seem to like her, then she didn't like him back.
That's just how she was.

"Where's Mani?" She questioned, shaking off his vibe and ignoring his rudeness. "We were supposed to go have lunch together."

"My wife is upstairs."

"And now she is downstairs."
The sing-songy voice, belonging to Manuela, said as she came skipping down the stairs, carrying her clutch in one hand and her faux leather jacket in the other.

"Where are you going dressed like that?" Prince asked, turning his head towards his wife. It was the first time he removed his eyes from his paper in the time of Natasha being here.

Manuela was dressed in a tight skirt, which accented her curves. It was about mid-thigh length, and the top she wore went off-shoulders. Her red pumps matched the designs in her blouse and jewelry.

"Just to lunch... that's all," Manuela replied, shrugging as she pulled on her jacket.

Prince didn't like her outfit of choice, but whatever made Manuela happy, he was happy with. He wasn't going to put up a fight with her about it.