I gave her back the card. “Try it again.”
The cashier swiped the card and again the word declined was displayed on the readout panel.
“It’s denied again,” she said, much louder this time. She knew she had an audience.
I heard another giggle come from behind me, which pushed me over the edge. I glared at the cashier. “Oh, so I guess you and this prejudiced trick standing behind me think I can’t afford twelve dollars and sixteen cents, huh?” I snatched my card from her hand. “I just told you that this is a brand-new check card.”
At my outburst, the cashier’s eyes bucked out of her head. She knew I was pissed, and she tried to keep me from causing a scene, but it was too late. She started to panic. “Uh-uh. I was just saying that when the cards are denied, it’s usually because there is no money in the—”
“I heard what you said,” I snapped at her. “You were implying that because I’m black, I don’t have any money. There could be a number of reasons why this card isn’t working. Heck, maybe your machine is jacked up. You ever thought of that?”
“Everything has been working all morning and afternoon. . . until now,” she said sarcastically.
I had to calm myself down before I caught a case. I placed the card in my purse, then searched my wallet for cash and purposely avoided my five-dollar, twenty-dollar, and fifty-dollar bills. I gave her a crisp hundred-dollar bill.
The cashier looked at the bill, then at me, then at the bill again. I knew she was wondering why I just hadn’t given her the cash to begin with. My wallet was filled with money, and I could’ve given her cash, but I wanted to use my new credit card.
She slowly and gently took the bill from me, and it was a good thing she did. Had she snatched the money out of my hand, I was gonna mop the floor with her prejudiced behind.
“Um, I don’t have any change for this,” she said. “Do you have anything smaller?”
Ain’t this a trip? Who ain’t got no money now? I returned her nasty attitude. “No. One hundreds are all I carry.”
She was heated. She stormed off with my money.
That’s right. Go on over to the customer service counter and get change. I turned around and faced the broad behind me with a huge smirk on my face. I was holding up the line, but I didn’t care. She quickly averted her eyes to read the tabloid she was holding. I just stood there, looking at her, while I waited for my change. She kept her face down and stared at the page. I knew that she knew that I was looking at her. In my mind I dared her to look at me just so I could say, “What the heck you lookin’ at?” But she never raised her eyes. I hated when I had to demand respect, but sometimes it was necessary.
When the cashier returned, she carefully placed my change in my hand. I checked my watch and saw that I still had a half hour before my lunch break was over. So I decided to get the oil in my car changed at one of those ten-minute lube places.
I drove to the Oil Express two blocks away from the grocery store and told the mechanic that I wanted a basic oil change. “And before you ask if I want anything else,” I said, looking sternly into his eyes, “the answer is no. I don’t want a new oil filter or new wiper blades. I don’t need my tires rotated or anything other than what I just told you. Just change my oil.”
“Yes, ma’am,” was all he said.
I took my fruit salad and bottle of water and went and sat in the waiting area. To kill time, I called Anastasia to see what she was up to.
“Oh, heeyeck to tha naw,” she answered. Not “Hello” or “Good afternoon.” I imagined Anastasia’s neck dancing as she spoke to me. “I know good and well you ain’t crazy enough to call my house and talk to me like you ain’t act like a total fool on the phone with me this morning.”
She was right. I had been out of line earlier. Anastasia could be a bit overbearing sometimes, but her heart was always in the right place.
“I’m sorry, Stacy. You forgive me?”
“Should I?” she asked me.
“I’ll buy you that Fendi bag just like mine.”
“In that case, you’re forgiven. So, what’s going on?”
“I’m sitting in Oil Express, waiting on my oil to be changed, but I called to tell you what happened in Pete’s Grocery today.”
Before I could get into the story, the mechanic was at my side. “Excuse me, ma’am.”
Didn’t I tell this fool that I didn’t want anything else done to my car? “Hold on a minute, Stacy.” I looked up into his eyes. “What?” I asked irritably.
“Uh, I just want to let you know that our records show that you were here less than two months ago.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Yeah. And?”
“Your mileage is well over four thousand miles since you were last here.”
Who cares? I couldn’t understand why he was bothering me. I shrugged my shoulders. “And your point is?”
“Well, I just wanna say that you’re putting a lot of miles on your car.”
I snapped, “Don’t you think I know that? I do a lot of driving. That’s why I’m here gettin’ the oil changed, so change it.” I dismissed him and brought my cell phone back to my ear. I exhaled loudly to show him that he was working on my last nerve and the one before it. “Anyway, Stacy, my new debit card wouldn’t work at Pete’s Grocery and—”
“Excuse me, ma’am,” the fool interrupted again.
Without telling Anastasia to hold, I looked up at him again with my eyes blazing. “What is it?”
“Huh?” Anastasia asked.
“Hold on, Stacy. I ain’t talkin’ to you,” I said to her.
The mechanic became nervous at the look in my eyes. “Uh, it’s just that four thousand miles is a lot for two months. If you don’t mind me asking, where are you driving every day?”
No, he didn’t just ask me that.
I felt like Linda Blair when she was possessed by the devil in the movie The Exorcist. My head turned three hundred-sixty degrees on my shoulders. “If I don’t mind you asking? You’re darn right, I mind you asking. And I mind you wasting my time with unnecessary bull. What the heck does where I’m driving got to do with you changing my oil? Is this your first day on the job or what? I didn’t come in here for a lesson on mileage. Maybe I should speak with your manager, because it ain’t none of your business where I drive. Just do what I’m paying you to do, which is to change my oil.”
The mechanic lowered his head and walked away. Again, I brought the telephone to my ear.
“Can you believe this, Stacy?”
“Rhapsody, I’m gonna pray for your mouth and your attitude.”
“Humph,” I said. “You better pray that this mechanic don’t get his behind kicked.” My shoulders jerked back and forth five times. I hated when folks pissed me off, because it always triggered an attack.
Chapter 7
Malcolm and Ivan sat in a booth inside Betty’s Soul Shack. As soon as the waitress walked away from the table with their orders, Malcolm dialed his voice mail, then stretched his hand with the cellular telephone across the table. Ivan grabbed the telephone and brought it to his ear. His mouth dropped wide open at Rhapsody’s message.
“Oh, snap. What did you do to her, man?”
Malcolm chuckled. “I told you that I waxed that butt.”
Ivan handed the telephone back to Malcolm. “Well, she doesn’t sound like she had a good time. She’s pissed.”
The waitress returned to their table and sat two glasses of raspberry lemonade before each of them. “Your orders will be right up,” she said to them.
Malcolm drank from his glass. “Rhapsody is mad only ’cause I didn’t spend the whole night with her. I told her I had to open the restaurant this morning and I needed to get home and get some sleep. It turns out that she stopped by the restaurant this morning and found out that today is my regular day off. So she thinks I blew her off.”
Ivan shrugged his shoulders. “Well, you did blow her off. Why did you lie to her?”
“Man, please,�
� Malcolm said. “You think I want chicks to know that my mama would kill me if she woke up in the morning and I wasn’t home?”
“How old did you say Rhapsody was?”
“I don’t know. I think she’s thirtysomething.”
Ivan’s eyebrows rose. “Thirtysomething.”
“Early thirties, Ivan.”
“So what? Heck, thirty is thirty. You got a cougar on your hands? What were you thinking, Malcolm?”
“Man, look, to be honest with you, I didn’t think Rhapsody was gonna call me, but when she did, I remembered how fine she was and what she was driving, so I went to see her. And she doesn’t look her age. Rhapsody’s body is bangin’.”
Ivan shook his head from side to side. He smelled trouble. “When a woman leaves a voice-mail message like that on a dude’s cell phone after only one night of screwing, it means she ain’t wrapped too tight. So, what are you gonna do?”
“I’ll call her when I think she’s calmed down a little bit.”
“Malcolm, you better slow your roll,” Ivan advised his best friend. “This Rhapsody chick doesn’t sound like she’s playin’ in the minor leagues. You got me scared of her, and I haven’t even met her. She’s givin’ off some bad vibes, man.”
Malcolm couldn’t disagree. He nodded his head. “Yeah, I know.”
The waitress was back with their meals. “Here you go.” She placed their plates on the table before them. “Enjoy.”
Both Malcolm and Ivan thanked the waitress, and then she walked away.
After inserting a forkful of homemade macaroni and cheese into his mouth, Ivan looked across the table at Malcolm. “Do you remember what happened two years ago, when you had Gisele Matthews on you? She tried to set fire to the shirt and pants she bought you while you were wearing them. And last year Ressia Thompson did her best to run you down with her Jeep.”
Malcolm swallowed meat loaf and mashed potatoes as he nodded his head. “Yeah, I remember. Those broads were lunatics.”
“It’s only been a month since Jasmine Sprawls came into Burger World and announced to every one present that you’re a no-good piece of crap. And you know crap wasn’t the word she used. And now you got a thirtysomething cougar pissed because she caught you in a lie. Sounds to me like you need to put your junk on strike, man.”
Malcolm laughed, then wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “Nah, Ivan. I can’t do that. But I will say this, though. If I died tomorrow, sex won’t owe me nothing.”
Chapter 8
After another tedious day at work, I decided to stop by Anastasia’s house in Bellwood on my way home. She opened the door, looking beautiful. From the size of her belly, no one would have guessed that she had given birth to my goddaughter, Chantal, only four months ago.
“Stacy, girl, you’re looking great, as always,” I said. “And I love your haircut.”
“Thanks, sis,” she said, running her hand along the back of her new feather cut. “Come on into the kitchen.” Anastasia led the way toward the rear of the house, and I followed.
“Ooh, something smells good up in here. What are you cooking?”
Anastasia brought her index finger to her lips to silence me. “Shh. I just laid Chantal down.”
I poked my head into the nursery and got a glimpse of my god baby sleeping in her crib, then went into the kitchen, where Anastasia was.
“I’m making smothered pork chops with white rice and gravy,” Anastasia said to me. “You want to stay for dinner?”
“Is there enough?” I asked, hoping there was enough, because I was starving.
“I just gotta defrost two more chops. It’s no big deal.”
I sat down at the kitchen table and watched Anastasia take a freezer bag full of pork chops from the freezer and sit it in a bowl of warm water.
“How’s Chantal doing?”
“She’s good. The catnaps ain’t no joke, though.”
“Well, you look well rested to me,” I said, admiring Anastasia’s pretty face and hair. “Got your hair done and your make-up on.”
Anastasia went to the stove and removed the lid from the skillet and poked the frying pork chops, testing them for tenderness. “Well, you know I still gotta look good for my man.”
“Speaking of Trevor, where is that fine husband of yours?”
Just the mention of his name brought a huge smile to Anastasia’s lips. “He called ten minutes ago and said that he’s on his way home from work. He’ll be glad to see you, Rhapsody. Trevor asks about you all the time.”
“Stacy, you are so lucky to have a man like Trevor. He’s the ideal husband.”
I loved the way Trevor took care of his family. He went to work every day, brought home his paycheck every two weeks, and allowed Anastasia to run the house with it. Trevor was tall, dark, and handsome. He treated his wife with the utmost respect; I had never witnessed him raise his voice at her. He was mild, and so was his attitude toward life. And the way Trevor attended to their baby, Chantal, melted my heart. It seemed as though he bathed her, changed her spoiled diapers, and fed her more than Anastasia did.
After flipping the pork chops over in the skillet, Anastasia turned to look at me. “I’m not lucky. I’m blessed. Luck comes by chance. God intentionally gives blessings.”
Aw, heck. Here we go. She’s gonna preach. I was hungry as all get out, so I had to sit through it.
“I had to go through a lot of pain and suffering to get Trevor. He wasn’t cheap. You remember me tellin’ you about my ex-husband, who almost killed me mentally and emotionally?”
I nodded my head.
“For years that fool had me convinced that I would never amount to anything. He wanted me to change my appearance to look like a skinny tramp he was messin’ around with. He wanted me to look just like her, be just like her, and act just like her. But it wasn’t happening, so eventually I had to get away from him.”
“Well, look who you have now. Trevor is every woman’s dream,” I said.
Anastasia took two pork chops from the freezer bag, rinsed them with water, and laid them on a plate of seasoned flour. “Yeah, he is,” she said. She battered my two pork chops and placed them in the hot skillet, from which she had already removed four chops.
I just sat at the table, thinking about her fabulous life with her husband and brand-new baby girl. “I wish I could find myself a good man.”
Anastasia placed the top on the skillet, then turned to look at me as I pouted at her kitchen table. She wiped her hands on a dish towel, then went and leaned back against the sink. She looked at me. “See? That’s your problem right there, Rhapsody.”
I didn’t have a clue what she meant. “I ain’t got a problem.”
“Yeah, you do,” she insisted. “Everywhere you go, you take out your binoculars and scope for men. You gotta stop doing that. You make yourself look real desperate when you approach men all the time.” Anastasia pointed her index finger at me like she was scolding a two-year-old. “I can guarantee you this one thing. The moment you stop lookin’ for a man . . .” She paused, looking directly in my eyes, making sure she had my undivided attention. “Is when the right one will come find you.”
I didn’t say anything behind that. I sat in silence and absorbed every single word Anastasia had just said to me.
When she didn’t get a response from me, Anastasia went over to the stove and turned the fire down beneath the skillet. She then pulled a chair out from the table and sat down across from me. She leaned her elbows on the table and looked at me. “A penny for your thoughts. You’re a million miles away. Are you all right?”
I wanted to confide in Anastasia and tell her about the message I had left on Malcolm’s voice mail, but her point about me being desperate would be proven, and I didn’t know if I could handle that right then.
“Rhapsody?”
Tears came to my eyes. That was when Anastasia got up from the table and removed the skillet from the fire and sat it on top of another burner. She then came and sat bac
k down at the table, in the chair right next to me. She pulled a napkin from the holder in the center of the table and gave it to me.
“What happened, sis?”
Sniff, sniff. I held the napkin up and turned away to wipe my tears and blow my nose, which had started to run. “I did something so stupid today, Stacy.”
“Like what?”
“I decided to pay Malcolm a visit at Burger World on my way to work. I got there and found out that today was his scheduled day off. When he got up to leave me last night, he told me that he had to go home and get some sleep because he needed to open the restaurant this morning. So when I found out that he had lied to me, I called his phone and went off on him on his voice mail.”
Anastasia’s shoulders drooped. It was evident that she was disappointed in my behavior. “Rhapsody, tell me you didn’t,” she pleaded.
“I did more than that, Stacy. I totally snapped on him. And that was at seven o’clock this morning, and now it’s almost six in the evening. I haven’t heard from Malcolm. He hasn’t called to apologize.”
“What has he got to apologize for? You cussed him out. If anyone is owed an apology, it’s Malcolm.”
I really didn’t understand her logic. “Stacy, he lied to me. How do you figure I owe him an apology?”
“Before I answer that, let me ask you a question,” she said. “You said you did something stupid today. Was that what you were talkin’ about?”
“Allowing Malcolm to get under my skin is what was stupid.”
“No, Rhapsody. Getting angry is showing emotions, and that’s not stupid. Leaving that type of message on his telephone is what was stupid. You and Malcolm have no ties to each other. Heck, you just met him yesterday, and you screwed him yesterday, which was also stupid. But you can’t get mad just because he didn’t want to spend the night with you, girl.”
“I’m not mad because Malcolm didn’t want to spend the night. I’m mad because he lied to me about why he had to leave.”
Anastasia shrugged her shoulders. “Rhapsody, what difference does it make? If he didn’t want to stay the whole night, it was his prerogative to leave. You need to get a grip.”
The Ugly Side of Me Page 5