Getting to the Good Part Page 28

  I sighed. I wasn’t really ready to be trying to solve my problems out loud. Especially not in no department store.

  “Ixnay, IstyMay,”! hissed. “Why you tryna air my business all up in this big-ass store?”

  “My bad, girl,” Misty said in a softer tone. “But I’m worried about you. This is a bit of a mess you got yourself in.”

  Her voice was muffled momentarily as she pulled her top over her head. But that didn’t stop her from trying to talk.

  “I still can’t believe you did it with him!” she whispered.

  It was such a loud whisper, she may as well have just said it straight out.

  “I can’t believe I did it either,” I replied, keeping my eyes closed. I rubbed my temples with my forefingers.

  I could hear Misty in there, sliding into the dress. She was still running her mouth.

  “So? Was he good?” she asked.

  “What?!”

  “Girl… you hear me! Was he, you know, good? How big was his… um… thang… ?”

  “Just hush, okay? We’ll talk about it some other time. I’m not feelin’ up to it right now.”

  I heard her squirming around.

  “All right. But I thought I was supposed to be your shrink. How you gon’ let this out if you won’t let me in?”

  “Quit trippin’,” I replied. “I’ma let you in. I just don’t think it’s appropriate in a department store. And what’s taking you so damn long?”

  “Wait a second. There’s a hook on here on something. I’m trying to fasten it. Give me… one second.”

  I blew air out of my mouth and leaned my head against the back of the chair.

  “Honey!!!” a woman’s voice called loudly. “Honey!!! It fits me real good!!! Come over here and see!!!”

  I opened my eyes, annoyed at the interuption. It was coming from the dressing room next to Misty’s.

  A fair-skinned sistah walked out, wearing a sequined black mini-dress.

  Now see there!!! Misty had been right next door, blabbing all my business, calling out names and everything!! For all I knew, homegirl could have been a friend of Dandre’s!!!

  “Is that you, Reesy?” Misty whispered.

  “No. Hurrup.”

  “Honey!!!” the woman called again. “Honey, where you at?!”

  Now this sistah looked familiar to me. Where did I know her from?

  “Honey!!! Roman!!! Where you at?!”

  “Chill out, baby,” I heard a deep voice answer. “I’m right outside checking out these dresses.”

  He held one in his hand. The exact same one Misty was trying on.

  “This would look good on you,” he said, grinning, walking over toward her and stopping beside me.

  He looked down and pleasantly nodded my way.

  He was a tall man with a rich chocolate complexion. Was nice and buff.

  Suddenly, it all became clear.

  “Roman!!” the woman exclaimed. “That color’s too red for me!! Red against red don’t look right!!”

  “Baby, you know damn well you’d look good in this! That’s how I like my women. Ain’t nuthin’ but redbones for me!”

  He glanced down at me and winked. I guess that was supposed to make me feel good, since I was considered a redbone, too.

  The woman cut her eyes at me. I knew she didn’t recognize me. But I damn shole recognized her. I wondered how long it would take for the rest to occur.

  “Roman, quit playing!! Ain’t no other women!! You are locked down and married.” She glanced over at me again. “So don’t you even be tryin’ to front!!”

  In my head, I silently counted backward from ten. If it didn’t happen by then, well, dammit, I was going to take over.

  Nine… eight… seven… six… CLICK!!!

  The dressing room door opened and Misty walked out. She had the dress on. It hugged her every curve. Ol’ girl was stunning.

  Roman’s jaw damn near separated from his head when he saw her.

  “Roman!!” Misty sang cheerfully. “How you doin’?!”

  She sauntered over to him and gave him a hug. She kissed him on the mouth.

  What?! No crying?! No screaming?! Something was definitely wrong with this picture!

  This was the man who had used Miss Divine for a year, then up and left and married a woman he had been engaged to the whole time.

  I expected her to at least gouge his eyes out. Hit him with her shoe. Kick him in the nuts. Bite him on the cheek. Joog him with an ink pen. Something. Her behavior was much too dignified for my tastes.

  Stacy, Roman’s unsuspecting wife, rushed up beside him, openly indignant about watching her man get bussed on the lips right in her face. She looked Misty up and down, apparently freaked out by the fact that she had on the same dress Roman held in his hand.

  “Roman, who is this?!”

  Misty stood beside him, throwing her arm across his shoulder.

  “Me and Roman go waaaay back,” she said with a grin. “You must be Stacy.”

  Misty extended her hand.

  Stacy seemed a little relieved.

  Roman, on the other hand, was catatonic. Brother couldn’t say shit. I mean, he didn’t run, he didn’t talk, he didn’t do nuthin’.

  He just stood there, looking like a fucking fool.

  “What’s your name?” Stacy asked Misty. “Honey, how does she know you?”

  Roman didn’t say anything. His top lip was beading up like the morning dew.

  Misty kept grinning.

  “I’m Misty, Stacy. What, are you guys out here on vacation?”

  “No. We’re just in town to see a show,” Stacy said. “How do you know my man?” She gave Roman a heavy shove. “Baby, what’s wrong with you?!”

  His top lip was soaking wet.

  “Stacy, let’s go,” he finally mustered up the nerve to say. He touched her on the arm.

  Stacy instantly sensed that something was wrong. She violently shook his arm away.

  “No, Roman!! Who is this?!”

  Stacy’s was the kind of mad that let you know she had gotten mad like that before. Like it happened on a regular basis.

  I just leaned back in my chair and watched the fireworks fly.

  I was majorly impressed with Misty. She had flipped the script on me. Caught me, and Roaming Roman, totally off guard.

  “Tell her how you know me, baby,” Misty beamed into Roman’s face.

  “Get off me!!” he declared, shrugging her arm from around his shoulder.

  “Awwwww, now look at you!” Misty cooed. “That’s not what you were saying all those nights you came to my house and fucked me silly.” She looked over at Stacy. “This man’s got stamina! He still setting out those all-night fuckfests? Girl, I know your cat is too raw!!”

  Misty threw her head back and laughed.

  I burst out laughing along with her.

  Stacy was in a rage. She was scooching forward kinda funny, like she was getting ready to pounce on Roman. Doing a sort of semi-squat with her arms raised, like that thing Ralph Macchio did in The Karate Kid.

  Our superthin saleswoman began to look nervous.

  I couldn’t blame her. Two sistahs were standing there, all g’d out in some of the best rags Saks had to offer, about to throw down.

  This was some Jerry Springer shit.

  This was going to be a sight to see.

  “Let’s go, Stacy,” Roman announced in a more commanding voice.

  Stacy clenched and unclenched her fists together, about to make her move.

  Misty kissed Roman sloppily on the cheek and went back into the dressing room. He angrily wiped the kiss away.

  Damn!! It was over before it began. I was hungry for more fire, more brimstone. I wanted to see some doggone gnashing of teeth!!

  Roman and Stacy stood there, still in a face-off.

  I could see Misty’s feet under the door as she began slipping out of the dress. She was talking.

  “Yo, Stacy!!” she called. “How was Roman’s dick wh
en y’all got married? Did it still have that big white bump on it?”

  Woo-hoo!! The party was on again!

  “How she know ’bout your bump?” Stacy hissed.

  “Girl,” Misty giggled, “he had this rising on his dick, right up underneath the head. We couldn’t do much ’cause it was too sensitive, so those last few times we were together, a few days before he married you, nigga ate my cat like it was going outta style! It’s a wonder y’all were able to even fuck on your wedding night.”

  Stacy’s mouth was balled up tighter than two sphincters. I think Misty had struck a chord.

  “If we don’t go now,” Roman threatened, “I’m leaving you right here. I don’t know this fuckin’ bitch!”

  Misty was still in there talking.

  “He’s got a red spot on his left ball. Right inside a little tangle of hair. Never could understand how somebody so brown could have such a bright red mark. I know you’ve seen it, girl. It’s right at eye level when you’re… well, you know.’

  I burst out laughing so hard, my stomach hurt. I bent down in my chair, breathing heavily and clutching my belly.

  Stacy reached over and slapped the living shit out of Roman.

  “I’m tired of this muthafuckin’ shit!” she cried. “Gotdammit, Roman, I’m tired of your ass!!”

  The undernourished supermodel saleschick drew nearer.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. You’re going to have to leave the store,” she whispered diplomatically.

  Stacy glared at her as if she wanted to rip out her lungs. I prayed she didn’t hit ol’ girl. The supermodel would not survive the blow.

  Misty came out of the dressing room.

  “You ret, girl?” she beamed.

  “Yeah,” I said, still laughing. “Girl, you’re a mess!”

  “Lying-ass hoe!” Roman spat angrily.

  “You’re the master of lies,” Misty sneered. “I just wanna see your ass get outta this one!”

  She covered his face with her palm and shoved his head.

  It snapped back and then forward like a Rock’em Sock’em Robot.

  “Punk muthafucka!” she laughed, and walked away.

  I followed on the heels of my girlfriend, giddy with laughter and a new sense of regard.

  I looked over my shoulder. The Sickly Supermodel was blocking Stacy, apparently trying to talk her into changing out of the dress. Stacy’s fists were still clenched.

  Roman stared after us, his eyes popping like a fire in a furnace.

  If looks could kill, me and Misty would have been reduced to volcanic ash.

  “So you’re not gonna get the dress?” I asked.

  Misty shook her head. Her face was radiant.

  “Nah. Think I got all the wear out of it I’m gonna need!”

  We walked out of the store.

  “I can’t believe we saw him today,” I said. “Must have talked him up when we mentioned him last night.”

  “True dat,” Misty snickered.

  I put my arm around her shoulder.

  “Thought you said you had gotten over what he did.”

  We wandered down the sidewalk, our steps peppy and brisk.

  “I am over it, girl,” she said with a grin. “As of this very second, I have freed myself from his karma. I finally got my chance to give it back to him, just the way his ass dished it out to me.”

  “So you think you’re bad now?” I asked with a smirk.

  “Naw, girl,” Misty said. “I don’t think that.”

  We turned the corner, headed a few blocks over to where I had parked the car. I caught the tone in her voice.

  “Oh,” I laughed, finally getting it. “But you know it, right?”

  Misty stared straight ahead, her expression firm and confident.

  “Damn skippy, I do!” she quipped.

  My girl. I was mighty proud of her.

  Sistah had definitely come a long way.

  FOR WHOM THE BELLS TOLL

  I was sitting at home, watching VIBE with the sound on mute.

  I was eating a big hunk of caramel cake.

  I’d gotten it earlier that evening, before I did the show, from Make My Cake over on 110th and Lenox.

  Make My Cake was a bakery run by the Baylor brothers and their sister, and the desserts were mind-blowing, homemade delights, with real frosting, like your mama made.

  (Well, somebody’s mama. Not mine.)

  I went by there at least three times a week. They had everything. Sweet potato cupcakes, banana pudding, chocolate chip cookies, coconut cake.

  Every time I went, Dedan Baylor tempted with me a new confection. The last time I was there, he did me in with a bag full of hot, fresh cherry rugalah.

  The glow of the big-screen TV glimmered off the pale beige walls of my apartment. Shadows danced on the Honeywoods, Campbells, and Bibbs that hung from the walls.

  I was loungin’ on my gold couch. It was deep, cushiony, and plush. I had my arms wrapped around one of the pillows and my feet were dangling over the side.

  I had on an oversized Urban Hang Suite T-shirt, and had it pulled down over my knees and tucked up under my booty. All I had on underneath was a red satin thong.

  I had once again managed to dip out from the theater right after the show, pretty much unnoticed and undeterred.

  Dandre had been nowhere in sight.

  I knew he was mad at me. I hadn’t called him the night before to tell him I was staying at Misty’s. He had left me a concerned message around eleven that evening, but I hadn’t answered it just yet.

  He didn’t bother to bombard me with phone calls. I guess he’d had his fill of that approach.

  And I remembered how angry he was the last time I went a whole night without a word.

  Dandre had made it very clear that if I wasn’t going to respect him enough to give him a courtesy call for twenty-four hours, to not to bother to call him at all.

  Well, I didn’t.

  (Although, admittedly, I knew it was a dangerous move. I was really hammering a nail into the coffin this time. I knew I had better be pretty damn sure that I was ready for him to be gone from my life.)

  I knew he was frustrated with me. I also knew I was wrong.

  But something in me seemed to live for the thrill of rebellion. It was an issue that I really needed to deal with, but old habits are hard to change. I was too deep in it.

  Besides, a sick part of me got off on that fuck-you-I-control-my-own-damn-destiny kick.

  (For further clarification, see my jacked-up relationship with Tyrone and Tyrene.)

  Misty had called a little while before and said that Rick had talked to Dandre, and that he was really upset. He thought I was trying to play him.

  Misty asked me if I was.

  I, of course, denied, denied, denied.

  (And she, of course, could see right through my twisted little lies.)

  As I sat there watching Sinbad’s bright, perky face fill the screen, I actually found myself missing Dandre. As much as I had to do what I had to do, he was still my nigga.

  I stayed like that, transfixed, daydreaming… mentally transposing Dandre’s face over that of Sinbad’s. I focused hard. I found that if I squinched my eyes tight enough, that mess actually worked.

  I laughed to myself. A sistah had issues.

  No. Ishas.

  My shit was waaaaay beyond just being a plain ol’ problem.

  Well, no matter how much squenching I sat there doing, Dandre had to go. As much as I had grown to like him, wasn’t no changing my mind about it.

  I still had to get him back for what he’d done to me at Burch.

  In the face of Misty’s absolution with Roman, Dandre’s retribution seemed even more pressing. I wanted him to feel as small as he’d made me feel. When he did that shit to me in front of all those people, especially Millicent, I felt like I’d been raped.

  “It’ll be for the best,” I said to myself, playing with the buttons on the remote. “I’on need to be too attached to him
, anyway.”

  The phone rang.

  The caller ID box was in the bedroom, but I wasn’t about to go run in there and look. I was too comfy to move. If it was Dandre, I’d find a way to keep the conversation curt and short.

  “Speak,” I mumbled.

  “Reesy?”

  I sighed. It wasn’t him.

  “What’s up, Helmut?”

  I didn’t even bother to ask how he got my phone number. He could get it from anybody, easily. Julian, Gordon, Dreyfus. None of them knew about what had happened between us, so why wouldn’t they give up the digits if he asked?

  “How’s the rest of your night been?” Helmut asked in that suave-ass accent of his.

  My eyes were fixed on the TV screen. Sinbad was bouncing around the screen, up to his usual antics.

  D’Angelo, with his wicked, talented ass, was jamming with the band. I took the TV off mute so I could peep out his sounds.

  “It’s straight,” I replied in an even, indifferent tone. “I’m just chillin’, watching a little TV.”

  “You left right after the show tonight and last night. Is everything all right with you?”

  I thought I heard a roaring sound in the background. I lowered the volume on the TV.

  “All is right with the world,” I answered, checking out the dreads of one of the guys in the band.

  I wanted dreads. I had been thinking about growing them for quite some time. But now that I had the role of Mimosa, I wondered how it would go over.

  “Would you mind if I came upstairs?” Helmut asked.

  Now, that got my attention.

  “Come upstairs where?”

  “Where you are. I’m in my limo outside.”

  I got up and rushed over to my window. I looked out.

  Sure enough, there was his big-ass black stretch pulled up alongside the curb. The headlights were off.

  “Why did you come over here?” I asked in a panic.

  I didn’t know why I was freakin’ so. I think it was mostly because I was confused.

  Part of me was annoyed that he had just popped up on me like that. Another part was excited by the fact that he had the balls to locate me and just arrive, unannounced, at my crib.

  “To see you,” Helmut said. “I have to see you. I must see you. I won’t take no for an answer.”