Big Girls Do Cry

by Carl Weber

  “Tall, cute, very chocolate.” She tilted her head to get a better view. “To be honest, Jerome, he’s fine.”

  “Now, that’s what I’m talking about.” I turned my head slightly to sneak a peek, then changed my mind. I needed a bit more information. “Can you see his left hand? He got on a ring?”

  “Not sure. Hold on.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her glasses. “Yep, he’s got on a ring.”

  “He still looking?” I picked up my drink, finishing it with one final gulp.

  “Yep, but he turns his head every time I glance over there. He really is cute, Jerome.”

  I couldn’t help myself anymore. I had to see this tall glass of water she was talking about. I turned my head toward the bar and had to do a double take. He wasn’t fine; he was fiiiiiinne!

  “What do you think?”

  “I think he’s just your type,” she said.

  “Isn’t he, though.” I was grinning like a Cheshire cat as I picked up both of our glasses. “You mind?”

  She shook her head. “Go for it.”

  “I will.”

  I got up and walked with a purpose across the room, weaving in and out of the crowd until I was standing at the bar next to Mr. Good-Looking. He was even finer close up than he was from our table.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

  I didn’t waste any time. “Can I get a watermelon martini and a goblet of your best cognac? And give my friend here a refill on whatever he’s drinking.”

  He held up his glass, which was nearly full. “No, I’m cool.”

  “You sure?” I gave him a smile. I could usually charm them pretty quickly with my pearly whites.

  He didn’t bat an eye. “Yeah, but thanks.”

  I have to admit, my ego took a hit. “Not a problem. My name’s Jerome. Yours?” I offered my hand; he took it. His hand was firm yet soft. Definitely not a blue-collar guy, but he didn’t ride a desk either.

  “I’m Michael. Michael Richards. Nice to meet you, Jerome.”

  “Pleasure’s all mine,” I said as I let my eyes travel down his tight body. Mmm, mmm, mmm, I couldn’t wait to get him undressed.

  “So, that was you sitting over at that table in the corner, right?”

  Now that’s what I’m talking about, I thought. This brother didn’t waste time and play games. He just got down to business.

  “Yeah, that was me. I saw you looking.” I decided to make the next move. “I think you look good too. I’m going to a dinner party later tonight. Maybe you’d like to join me. Think I could get your number?”

  “Whoa! Whoa, hold on there, fella!” He threw up his hands, palms facing me, with an uncomfortable look on his face. “It’s not that type of party. You got me all wrong.” Michael shook his head and started laughing. Wasn’t a damn thing funny, as far as I was concerned. “You know, I’ve got nothing against gay men, but that’s not my thing. Besides, I was looking at the woman.”

  I guess we’re going to play this the hard way. Another brother in denial. This was going to be fun.

  “Oh, excuse me. My bad. No harm meant.” I put my hands up, mimicking his earlier gesture so that he would calm down. “So, you’re interested in the woman I was with?”

  “You could say I’ve been interested in her all my life.” Michael probed, “I take it she’s not your girlfriend.”

  All his life? This guy wasn’t just in denial; he was weird.

  “No, she’s my good friend, though. I look out for her—if you know what I mean.”

  “I’ve got an idea.” He turned and looked toward our table. “I haven’t seen Loraine in almost twenty years.”

  “You really do know her?”

  “Know her? I was in love with her.”

  I was beyond confused. Raine had told me about some of the guys she dated in the past, but she ain’t never told me about anyone this fine, and I was sure she would have remembered. I screwed up my face, and I guess I must have given him a pretty suspicious look, because he protested right away.

  “Hey, I’m not crazy. She was my older sister’s best friend. I had a crush on her since I was in eighth grade.” He kept looking over at her.

  “Wow, so you’re from Norfolk?”

  “Born and bred. Lived two doors down from Loraine.”

  “Why didn’t you come over to the table? I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

  “Little nervous. I was afraid you were her husband or boyfriend. You know how people are. I didn’t want to cause any drama for Loraine.”

  “That was nice of you.” The bartender brought me my drinks. “So, you still like her, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “What’s not to like? She’s gorgeous.”

  “Why don’t you come over to the table with me and join us?” Usually I’d get a little jealous when a man I found attractive didn’t show me any interest, but if by some stroke of luck this guy could get Loraine away from Leon, I think I’d do cartwheels. “You and Loraine can catch up.”

  He slid off his bar stool. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  I led him across the room. “Michael, this is Loraine. Loraine, this is Michael. But then again, you two know each other.” I couldn’t stop smirking at my friend. She was going to have to explain later how she let this guy get away.

  Loraine peered up, looking rather confused. “We know each other?”

  Michael eased into the empty chair. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  “Probably because I don’t know you.”

  Did I make a mistake bringing this guy over here? I still didn’t know what was going on, but it was starting to look like I might not be the only one with a stalker. Things got even creepier when the dude started talking.

  “If I don’t know you, how come I know you have a small, starlike birthmark right under your left butt cheek? Your favorite ice cream is mint chocolate chip. Your favorite color is red, or at least it used to be.” If he didn’t know her, he sure knew a lot about her. “Oh, and you love foot massages.”

  “Jerome, your friend is not funny. Now that you had your fun, the joke’s over.”

  “What do you mean, my friend? I thought he was your friend.” I was about to get real indignant with this kook. I placed my hand on his shoulder. “I think it’s time you leave.”

  “Wait a minute! I admit I was having a little fun, but you do know me, Loraine Farrow. I’m Michael. Michael Richards, Lisa Richards’s little brother … your high school best friend. Don’t you remember you gave me my first kiss when we were playing spin the bottle?”

  Loraine’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God! Mike.” She stared at him like she was still trying to process everything. “Mike Richards?”

  “That’s me.” He had this weird proud smile on his face. I swear his chest puffed up a little as she checked him out. “But they call me Michael now.”

  “I barely even recognize you. You’re so, so …”

  “Thin,” he said with a laugh. “I lost a little weight. I had gastric bypass surgery about five years ago. Plus I work out.”

  “I’ll say,” I chimed in.

  “My God, how much did you lose?” Loraine asked.

  “Three hundred and fifty, give or take.”

  Loraine stated the obvious: “You look good, Michael.”

  “Good enough for a date?” He actually sounded nervous. I had never seen a brother who looked this good acting like he was afraid he’d be turned down. This whole scene was just getting weirder by the minute.

  “You know I been waiting to ask you out for twenty years.”

  “Yeah, right. You are so crazy,” Loraine told him. “This isn’t high school. Besides, I saw that ring on your finger.” She winked at me.

  “What, this?” He took off a gold band with a colorful stone. “It’s not a wedding ring. It’s my college ring. I used to wear it as a pinky ring, but since I lost all the weight, my ring finger’s the only one it will fit on.”

  Game, set, and match. I didn�
��t know about Loraine, but I was convinced. The only question I had was, did he have a gay friend or one hiding in the closet who needed a push out?

  “Hey, Loraine,” Michael said with a charming smile, “seriously, I’d love to take you out to dinner.”

  Egypt

  12

  When we pulled up the driveway and I saw the black Cadillac Escalade with New York plates, I knew exactly who was in my house. To come home after hearing Tammy’s bad news and see his car just pushed my anger to a new level. Why the fuck my sister would have that sorry-ass excuse for man in my house was beyond me. His lying ass was the root of all her problems, not to mention the fact that he’d beat Rashad’s ass back in the day. He was nothing but bad news, but she refused to give him up and move on with her life. Isis had gone too damn far, and we were about to have words.

  From the way Rashad was reaching toward his glove compartment, I was pretty sure words were the last thing on his mind.

  “Baby, what are you doing?” I asked, lifting my knee so that the glove compartment wouldn’t open for him.

  “I’m getting my shit so I can get that nigga out my house. Now move your leg.”

  “No!” I shouted defiantly. I raised my knee to block him even further. “You told me that you should never handle a gun when you’re emotional or angry. Baby, right now you’re both.” I placed my hand over his, my eyes pleading with him to calm down. “I know my sister is wrong, and I’ll deal with her—I promise—but let’s not do something stupid just because we’re mad at Tammy and Tim. Please. I’m trying to avoid visiting you in jail.”

  “I want that motherfucker out my house, Egypt.”

  “I know you do, baby. His ass is leaving as soon as we get in the house. And my sister’s ass is going to be right behind him. Come on.”

  We both stepped out of the car and headed up the walkway. They must have heard us pulling up, because Tony headed out the door toward his truck with a purpose. That son of a bitch passed us and didn’t even speak, which was probably for the best, since Rashad couldn’t stand his ass. It wouldn’t have taken much to get him to head back to the car and get his gun.

  My sister, on the other hand, acknowledged our presence, but only by slamming the front door when she saw us coming.

  The first thing I did when I entered the house was head for the stairs. Rashad was right behind me, talking about dragging Isis out of the house by her hair. With him being so angry, I took his threat seriously. I had to stop him halfway up the stairs. I was pissed at Isis, but I didn’t want things to turn violent. “Baby, go back out to the car and bring our bags in. Let me handle this, please.” He didn’t say a word, but his body language spoke volumes. He was disgusted and looked like he wanted to hurt somebody. “Please, baby,” I repeated. He wanted to take his anger about what happened in New York out on someone, and my sister was the most logical choice. Only, even though she was an ass for having that man in our house, she didn’t deserve what was rightfully meant for Tammy and Tim. I pleaded one last time, “Please, Rashad. For me.”

  He turned around and walked down the stairs. “I want her out of my house by Friday. You hear me?”

  “Yes, baby. I hear you,” I replied, then headed up the stairs, stopping in front of Isis’s door.

  They say if you love someone, let them go. Well, that was what I was about to do with my sister: Let her ass go. I reached for the doorknob, surprised to find it was locked. How could she lock doors in my house? She was really pissing me off. “Isis, open this door.”

  I could hear movement, but she didn’t reply. I slammed my fist on the door three times. “Open this door! This is my goddamn house!”

  I waited for a few seconds, then said, “You think I don’t have a key to this door?” I stomped down the hall to my bedroom to retrieve the key. When I entered my room, all I could do was gasp, hand over my chest, as I took in the disaster area I called my bedroom. “Oh my God. No, she didn’t have him in my room!”

  Orange stains, probably from juice, were splattered on our carpet, along with what looked like pancakes and—oh no, syrup. The lamps were turned over like these two fools had been having one wild whoopee-making session. Strawberries and rose petals were smeared all over my comforter. Crumbs and a breakfast tray were sitting on one side of our bed. Let’s not forget the bottle of whipped cream that sat on the nightstand. Over in the corner, balled up like it had just been thrown to the side, was my husband’s favorite robe. What had she been thinking? Had she been thinking at all? Dear Lord, could it get any worse?

  That’s when I noticed the bed was made with my brand-new three-hundred-dollar silk sheets. I hadn’t even taken them out of the package yet, and this broad had the nerve to use them. When I pulled back the top sheet, I saw what looked like dried up semen in three places. Oh, hell no, this heffa didn’t have sex on my new sheets without a condom! Just the idea that she came into our room made me see red. I was furious!

  “Isis!” I screamed, running back to her bedroom door.

  I didn’t even care about the key anymore. If she didn’t open that door, I was going to break it down. Like most siblings close in age, Isis and I had had our share of physical fights over the years. I happened to be the winner of most of them. “Open this fucking door! I’m not playin’ with you no more, Isis! I want you the fuck out my house!” I started to pound on the door again and heard her fumbling with the lock. When she finally did get the door opened, she looked like a hot mess, hair all over the place. And if it wasn’t bad enough that she had that man wearing my husband’s robe, she had the nerve to be wearing mine.

  “Take my goddamn robe off!” If my expression didn’t tell her how serious I was, my two clenched fists must have, because within seconds, she was standing there half naked, handing me my robe.

  “I can explain.” I could hear the sincerity in her voice, but then again, she always sounded sincere when her back was up against a wall. It wasn’t going to work this time, though. I was done.

  “Explain what? What the fuck you going to explain? How you disrespected me? How you took my kindness for weakness? What the hell was you thinking about, bringing that motherfucker in my house, desecrating my bed?” I was so mad that I was nauseated.

  “I’m sorry,” Isis muttered, looking down. “Things got a little out of hand, but I was gonna clean up before you got back. You told me you were coming home Sunday.”

  “Oh, so you guys were gonna play house all weekend at our expense? I can’t believe you did this shit. The least you could do was have a decent man in my house. Isn’t he still married?”

  “He don’t love her.”

  “And he loves you?” I almost laughed.

  She nodded pathetically. “Mmm-hmm, he sure does.”

  “Then why doesn’t he leave his wife for you?” She didn’t have shit to say about that. “We trusted you, Isis.”

  “I said I was sorry. What else do you want me to say?” She turned away from me. I spun her back around so that she was facing me.

  “Sorry ain’t good enough this time. I can’t keep babysitting you. I want you out of my house by Friday.”

  “Huh?” She looked at me like I was betraying her by finally putting my foot down. I’d let her get away with too much for too long. Clearly she wasn’t ready to act like a responsible adult. “You can’t do this. Where am I gonna go?”

  “Call Tony. If he’s so in love with you, I’m sure he’ll get you a spot, ‘cause he just fucked you out of a place to stay.” I didn’t realize it, but I was so upset I had tears in my eyes. I hated what I was doing to my sister, but it was for her own good and mine. I knew she didn’t have any place to go, unless by some miracle that idiot Tony came through for her, which I seriously doubted. From her reply, I don’t think she had much faith in him either.

  “Give me another chance, Egypt,” Isis pleaded. “I won’t mess up again. I swear. The only place I got to go is Mommy and Daddy’s.”

  “You should have thought of that before you disres
pected my house. I want you out by Friday. And I’m not going to change my mind.”

  With that, I turned and left, almost blinded by my own tears. In a rage, I went to my room and changed the sheets. I picked up the room and blotted the carpet, hoping Rashad didn’t see the mess. He was already acting weird. In fact, he had been so quiet since we left Tammy and Tim’s house that he was scaring me. Lord, could things get any worse?

  Loraine

  13

  I was sitting in front of Michael Richards, quite possibly one of the most handsome men I’d ever met. Only this wasn’t the first time we’d met, and he sure didn’t look like the same kid I’d known since he was four years old and his family moved down the street from us.

  I knew Michael had had a crush on me when we were younger, but he was my best friend’s little brother. When I was a senior, he was only a freshman, so he was just a silly little kid to me. Oh, I was nice to him, and I got on the older boys when they teased him or called him Fat Mike, but I never once thought of him in a romantic way. Besides, I had my pick of guys in high school, and Mike wasn’t the kind of guy who would have gotten a second look from me, even if he was my age. Not to sound conceited, but back then, who didn’t have a crush on me? I was a big girl, but I had a nice shape, and guys used to fall all over me, because I had big titties and a fat ass.

  Now I was almost a hundred pounds heavier, and plenty of men just considered me fat. The tables had surely turned. Michael had lost all that weight, and he was stunning. I felt like I needed to catch my breath just looking at him. The surprising thing was that even though he was certifiably gorgeous, he still seemed to be infatuated with me. I was beyond flattered. I mean, I knew I was still attractive, but we 250-plus-pound women don’t get men who look like Michael asking us out every day. Unfortunately, I was faithfully married, and dating was prohibited.

  “So, Loraine.” Michael’s voice cut into my thoughts. “You wanna go out to dinner with me sometime? I know this great Italian place down in Chester.”

  How in the world was I supposed to keep my composure when this gorgeous man was inviting me to dinner? I mean, I loved my husband, but there was that small part of me that was dying to say yes.