Getting to the Good Part Read online

  “I gotta go, Mare.”

  She stopped giggling and jumped back into girlfriend mode.

  “Okay. Let’s do lunch sometime. I really miss hanging out with you.”

  “Sure,” I lied.

  Homegirl still didn’t get it.

  We ain’t friends, I said in my head.

  “I’ll leave Misty a message that you called,” Mare chirped. “She’ll be checking in at some point, I guess. But then, I don’t know… she might not.”

  She said the last two sentences in a kind of cryptic, singsongy way, as if she was dangling some secretive information over me that she wanted me to jump at.

  “You think she’s at home?” I asked.

  “Ummmmm, probably,” Mare dragged.

  “Okaybye,” I said quickly, without ceremony, and hung up the phone.

  I didn’t want to waste any more of my time.

  I stuck my feet back into my Nikes, not bothering to untie and retie the laces.

  I went into the living room, grabbed my purse and keys, and jetted for the train station.

  I didn’t know what I was going to say when I got there. I didn’t know what I was going to do.

  All I knew was that I needed to see her.

  To maybe calm my nerves, and help make this rumbling in my bowels just up and go away.

  She was the one who opened the door when I rang the bell.

  She stood there in a pair of faded blue jeans and a pink tank top. Her hair was all fluffed out and curly. I’d never been so happy to see someone as I was to see her right then.

  How could I be mad at her, the way her face broke out into that wide-mouthed grin when she saw me?

  “Girl!!!” she exclaimed, flinging her arms around my neck. “I’m so glad to see you!!!”

  Misty studied me from head to toe, that broad smile of hers not diminishing in the slightest.

  “I missed you, boo,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry ’bout what?” I replied nonchalantly. “I don’t know what you talkin’ ’bout.”

  Misty chuckled.

  “I see my girl’s still the same,” she prattled, shepherding me into the house. “I’m glad you’re back. You must have felt me calling out to you. I needed to talk to you today like you wouldn’t believe!”

  Her mouth was going a mile a minute. My heart skipped a beat when she said I must have felt her calling out to me.

  Made me think about that old commercial where a mother gets burned by a pot in Iowa and, at that exact same moment, thousands of miles away in Indonesia, her son gets a boil on his ass.

  Something like that.

  “Hey,” Misty exclaimed, pausing for a moment. “How’d you get here?”

  “I took the train. There’s a cab waiting for me outside. I wasn’t sure you were going to be here.”

  “Thought so,” she replied. She yelled in the direction of the hallway. “Rick! Go outside, honey please, and send that cab away!”

  She leaned close to me, whispering.

  “Have you paid him yet?”

  I shook my head no.

  “Honey!” Misty called out again, giving me a quick grin and a wink, “pay the man, too, please! Thanks!”

  Rick wandered out of the back in a pair of khaki shorts and an army-green T-shirt. He was a pretty darn good-looking guy.

  When he spotted the two of us, Misty’s arm around me tightly, he broke out grinning, too.

  “Boy, am I glad to see this!”

  He walked over and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

  Caught me clean off guard.

  “You have no idea how miserable this lady has been without you!” Rick smiled, pointing at Misty.

  I glanced at Misty. She nodded in agreement.

  “Life around here has been pure hell. I want my Reesy,” he mimicked. “That’s all a brother heard!”

  “Stop it, Rick,” Misty giggled, blushing. “I just missed my sistah.”

  “I missed you, too,” I replied softly, looking at the floor in embarrassment.

  Misty knew all this mushy stuff was making me nervous. That girl knew me like a book. I could tell she was getting ready to change the subject.

  But the funny thing was, Rick seemed to have the same intuition. He changed the subject on his own.

  “Cab’s outside, right?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Let me go pay him and send him off,” he said, rushing out the front door.

  Misty led me over to the couch.

  “Men can come in pretty handy,” she said with a smile.

  “I see.”

  She reached out for my hands, holding them both in her own.

  I noticed the finger next to her pinky on her left hand. Perched on that finger was, easily, a five-carat rock.

  I let out a gasp.

  Her eyes followed mine.

  I looked up at her.

  “He just gave it to me this afternoon,” Misty said, smiling. Her eyes were moist. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “Yeah,” I said softly. “It is.”

  “Scared me to death when he whipped it out. I can’t believe he wants to marry me, the way I’ve been acting around here these days.”

  For her sake, I forced a smile onto my face.

  “I’ve been wanting to see you all day,” Misty prattled. “I wanted to share this with you before I told anyone else. What am I going to do? I don’t know the first thing about being married!”

  I did my best to suppress a sigh.

  “This is what you always wanted, isn’t it?” I replied, struggling to keep my voice from sounding sarcastic. “Girl, you’ve been preparing for this moment your whole life!”

  She laughed.

  “Yeah, I guess. But I never thought it would actually come!”

  Misty moved her hand around and around, admiring her ring.

  “You gon’ be my maid of honor, right?” she asked.

  “Sure. If that’s what you’d like.”

  “Of course, fool!” she quipped happily. “You’re my one and only choice, girlfriend! I want you to help me with everything!”

  A fresh ball of gas waged war in my bowels.

  Rick came back inside.

  When he walked in, the two of us glanced at him guiltily, like a couple of trapped rats.

  He chuckled, shaking his head.

  “Go back to whatever it is y’all are in the huddle about. Don’t mind me. I’m going to disappear in the back and make a few phone calls.”

  “Bye, baby,” Misty whispered to him as he passed.

  “Bye, wife-to-be,” Rick replied with a grin.

  Good Lord, I thought, invisibly rolling my eyes.

  “Y’all are cute,” I said obligatorily.

  “Ya think?” Misty asked with genuine interest.

  I nodded, not really wanting to get into it any deeper.

  “So!” she finally asked, tapping me on the hand. “What’s up with you? You bumpin’ anybody? How’s it kickin’ with the show?”

  “What’s up with you? Bumpin’?!” I repeated. “What’s with all this ghetto talk of yours? You used to be so prim and proper, now you’re all laid back and hip-hoppy. I don’t know if I can take this from you.”

  She chuckled.

  “Girl, it’s the company I keep.”

  “Uh-uh.” I frowned, refusing to fall for that as answer. “You hung around me for damn near all my life, and you spent all that time chiding me for the way I talk.”

  She shrugged.

  “But I sleep with Rick. He’s around me all the time.”

  Yeah right, I thought.

  There was still another litmus test.

  “What radio station do you listen to? Is it still KISS-FM?”

  Misty cut her eyes at me sheepishly.

  “HOT97.”

  Damn!! Now that was a major switch. While KISS and HOT were sister stations owned by the same company, KISS played the kind of music Misty loved. Easygoing old-school flava from when we were gro
wing up.

  HOT97, on the other hand, was Puff Daddy Central.

  I listened to HOT on the regular, but I was a flat-out hip-hop mama. No shame in my game. HOT97’s slogan was “Where Hip-Hop Rules the World.”

  97.1 on the dial was the last place I expected to find Miss Divine hanging out.

  “Ed Lover and Dr. Dre are off the chain!” Misty said in her own defense. “Girl, you ever hear them play that game True Dat in the morning? And do your hear how Red Alert be rippin’ it up with that old school lunchtime mix! I listen to them in the office all the time!”

  “True Dat?” I asked.

  “Yes, girl,” she exclaimed, “true dat! They are bomb-diggity!”

  She thought I was bigging up what she was saying. Naw. I was too busy being stunned by the fact that she was listening to Ed, Lisa, and Dre, HOT97’s morning crew, and that she knew they had this crazy-ass call-in contest, True Dat.

  “Hmmph!” I mumbled. “What a difference a dick makes.”

  Misty smacked me on the hand.

  “Girl, that’s nasty!” she giggled. “It ain’t got nuthin’ to do with no dick!”

  “It has everything to do with dick, and you know it!” I replied.

  “Anyway… ,” she went on, “how are things with you and the show?”

  I was really disturbed about how much she was changing, starting with the obvious aberrations in her speech. But I really needed to talk, too. I needed her to hold my hand, literally and figuratively.

  I let go with that heavy sigh I had been holding back.

  “What’s the matter?” Misty asked with concern, immediately sensing that something was wrong.

  I leaned back against the couch, running my hand over my forehead.

  “What’s wrong, Reesy?” she repeated. “You’ve really got me worried. You didn’t quit the show, did you?”

  I frowned.

  “No, I didn’t quit the show, Misty.”

  She put her hand on my arm.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that in a negative way against you. I was just wondering if something happened that upset you and made you quit.”

  “Oh,” I said with a sigh of relief. “Sorry. I’m just sensitive right now, I guess.”

  “So what’s up?”

  I paused a second, trying to get a grip on my emotions. They were going in a bunch of different directions at this point, especially with the little announcement she’d just made.

  “I tried out for the lead today,” I replied finally.

  Misty’s eyebrow shot up.

  “Are you serious? Did they ask you to? What happened to Rowena?”

  My head snapped toward her.

  “How do you know about Rowena?” I asked sharply.

  “I’ve been to the show. Rick and I have checked you out. You’re really good. So is she.”

  “Oh yeah,” I said, remembering the tulips she sent me and the note that said she’d been in the audience. “I forgot about that.”

  “Did you like the flowers?” Misty asked with a hopeful smile.

  “I loved them. You know I love tulips.”

  “I was hoping that would crack the door a little so you’d let me back into your heart.”

  “Why’d you send all those other types of flowers before, then?” I asked out of curiosity.

  “Honestly?”

  “Honestly.”

  “‘Cause I forgot about the tulips!” she laughed. “Girl, I didn’t remember how much you liked them till I passed by one of those corner flower stands and the merchant was putting out fresh ones in different colors. Then it hit me.”

  I giggled at that.

  “Had I sent them earlier, we probably would have made up a long time ago,” she said.

  “Probably,” I replied. “I don’t know, though. I was pretty mad.”

  “I know,” Misty said, laughing softly. Her hand was still on my arm.

  “So what’s up with Rowena?” she asked again.

  “She’s going to L.A.”

  “Hmmmmmm.”

  I nodded along with her.

  “There were only two people trying out,” I added. “Me and this other bitch, Tamara. She was pretty good, though. I don’t know if I’ll get it.”

  “Who told you to try out?”

  “Julian.”

  “Oh please! Girl, why are you even worried?! If he asked you to try out, he must be confident in your talent.”

  I rubbed my forehead again, balling and unballing my lips.

  “But you’re not, are you?” Misty asked.

  “Uh-uh,” I mumbled, shaking my head.

  “Aww, baby,” she cooed, putting her arm around me. “Are you scared?”

  “Uh-huh,” I whined. “My stomach’s been tor’ up all afternoon.”

  She rubbed my back.

  “When was the audition?”

  “Today,” I replied.

  “Did you come here straight from there?”

  I shook my head.

  “I went home first and tried to lay down. I can’t rest. I feel sick.”

  Misty folded me up in a hug. I hugged her back. It felt so good to be with my friend.

  “You still feel sick?” she asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Misty got up from the couch and went into the kitchen. I heard her open the refrigerator door and pop the top on something. She opened the cabinet, reached for a glass, and poured something that made a fizzing sound.

  She walked out of the kitchen with a glass of what looked like water.

  “Here. Drink this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Sprite. It should settle your stomach a little.”

  I sat up and took the glass from her. I began to sip. The cool liquid felt good coursing down my throat.

  “Drink it all,” Misty insisted.

  I did. I was beginning to feel better already, just because she was there.

  “When are you supposed to find out the results?” she asked.

  “Late this afternoon,” I said, letting out a little belch.

  “Reesy,” she chided, “it is late this afternoon.”

  “I know,” I said with a weak smile. “I had to get outta there. The waiting was killing me.”

  She rubbed my back again, taking the glass from my hand.

  “Feel better?”

  “A little.”

  “Good,” she said with a sweet motherly smile.

  I exhaled deeply, leaning back against the sofa again. I closed my eyes for a minute.

  “So how you gonna find out if you got the part if you’re over here?” Misty asked.

  “I don’t know if I wanna know,” I groaned.

  “Of course, you wanna know, girl!” she insisted. “Stop being so pessimistic! This isn’t like you.”

  I opened my eyes again and began to chew on my bottom lip.

  “I guess it’s because I want it so bad,” I said in a small voice.

  “Hmmm,” she responded, nodding her head.

  I closed my eyes again.

  “I haven’t said that aloud to anybody,” I muttered. “Not even myself.”

  “Sometimes it helps just to speak it out loud, girl.”

  Misty leaned back against the couch along with me.

  “So how are you supposed to find out?” she asked. “When you go back to the theater?”

  I shook my head.

  “No. Julian’s supposed to call both of us and let us know.”

  “Oh. Suppose he calls and you’re not there? He might have already called.”

  I sat there, thinking. I sorta figured that’s how it would happen. Julian would call my house and leave me a message. That’s one of the reasons I got out of there, I think. I wanted him to leave me a message. I couldn’t bear hearing the fatal news from him firsthand.

  “Yeah,” I said. “He probably has.”

  “You wanna call and check your messages?”

  “No!!”

  “Yes, you do. It’s killing you. Not knowing i
s killing you way more than knowing ever could.”

  I looked over at her.

  “Ya think?”

  “You forget,” she grinned. “I know your azz.”

  We both giggled.

  Misty reached over for the portable phone on the end table beside her.

  “You gon’ dial, or you want me to do it?” she asked, holding the phone out to me.

  I stared at it for a minute, like it was a lethal weapon. In a way, it was. That little white portable phone held the power to make me or break me at that point. One way or another.

  I stared at the phone a minute too long for Miss Divine.

  “What’s the number to your voice-mail service?” she demanded.

  I told her the number.

  She dialed.

  My heart was in a knot, and something in my stomach did a swan dive that would have earned a perfect 10 on the Olympic scale.

  “It’s ringing,” Misty said.

  She listened to all the appropriate prompts, then pressed star and entered in my phone number.

  “I’ve dialed that bad boy so many times, I know it by heart,” she said with a sheepish grin.

  Misty paused a second.

  “It’s asking for your code,” she said, handing the phone to me.

  “No!!” I screamed, refusing to touch it. I sat there, chewing my lip. “You punch it in. It’s 461971.”

  Misty was the only person on the planet I felt secure enough to give any of my access codes to.

  She punched it in.

  “Why so many numbers?” she asked. “How the heck can you remember a code like that? What’s it stand for?”

  “The date we first met on the playground,” I muttered.

  “Wow. That’s pretty deep.”

  She was silent for a second, looking at me with a saccharine expression. I quickly looked away.

  “You have five new messages,” she said.

  I looked up at her again.

  “Four of them are from me,” she added quickly.

  I giggled nervously, unexpectedly. I found a spot on the floor to fix my attention to, and kept it there.

  “You want me to retrieve them?” she asked.

  I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, and nodded my head swiftly.

  She pressed 1.

  After a second, she said, “That one’s me.”

  I sat there, my insides quivering like fresh Jell-O. Blood was rushing and roaring in my head like a full-fledged hurricane. I thought I was gonna pop a vein, I was freaking so bad.