by Skyy
“What the fuck!” Cooley rushed up on Denise, but Denise didn’t move. “Who’s fucking friend are you, bruh? You can’t see why the fuck I’m angry right now? What if Farih did this shit to you? What if she aired your dirty fucking laundry for the fucking world to see? How the fuck you gon’ stand in my house and tell me I’m wrong?” Cooley turned around. “You know what? You can get the fuck out with all that.”
“Cooley—”
“Nah, bruh, fuck that. You know what? How about you stay here with her ass since you so fucking concerned about her? I’m out.”
Cooley ignored Denise’s pleas, grabbed her keys, and stormed out of her home.
Misha beamed with pride over the meal she’d created. She didn’t know what had come over her, but she had suddenly wanted to cook and cook a lot. She had let Jaylin spend the weekend with Patrick’s parents. Tonight she was going to cater to her man.
Misha spared no expense making her deep-dish lasagna, which Patrick loved, along with salad and fresh garlic bread. She sat at the table in her new black mini-dress, waiting on Patrick to walk through the door.
Misha stood up when she heard the doorknob turn. She pressed PLAY on her stereo. Smooth jazz began to play. Patrick walked in the house, stopping in the doorway when he got the first whiff of the Italian cuisine.
“I’ve been waiting on you, Daddy,” Misha said, doing her Marilyn Monroe impression. Her stilettos clicked on the linoleum floor. Patrick didn’t move as Misha helped him out of his suit jacket.
“Mish . . .”
“Shhh. Just come over here and sit down. I made your favorite, so I want you to enjoy your meal before we spend the whole weekend together with no interruptions.”
“Mish . . .” Patrick’s voice cracked.
“Yes, baby?”
“I’m so sorry.”
Misha turned toward Patrick. She couldn’t help but notice his frightened expression.
“Baby, what is wrong?” Her heart began to race. “Is it Jaylin?”
Tears began to flow down Patrick’s face. “I am so sorry. I fucked up. I fucked up bad.”
Misha grabbed Patrick’s face. “What is wrong?” Her hands were trembling. She knew something terrible had happened. Silent prayers started running through her head.
“I . . .”
“Patrick, what!”
“I cheated. . . .”
Chapter 30
Lena stared at the busy parking lot of the club across the street. She was already tipsy and knew she wasn’t going to be able to drive home right now. She had started drinking as soon as she left the house. She’d left home with the intention of spoiling herself. She had got a massage and a mani-pedi and had got her hair done. She’d then headed to the mall and proceeded to waste a large sum of money on dresses she knew she would probably never wear.
She could see the club from the window of the restaurant she had stopped at to eat and drink her life away. Five mojitos later and she was still pissed at Denise. Carmen and Misha had been blowing her phone up nonstop, until she finally decided to turn the phone off. She knew Denise had probably told Carmen what happened. The last thing she wanted was to get questioned by her friends.
Lena headed to her car. She stumbled as she tried to pull the keys out of her clutch. She was in no position to drive and honestly didn’t want the night to end. She pulled out one of the sexy dresses she bought and slipped into it in the car, along with a new pair of heels. It was a quick wardrobe change, but she knew she looked good. Lena walked across the street toward the VIP entrance of the club.
Cooley’s eyes were blurry. She had already downed two bottles of complimentary champagne from the club owner and was halfway done with the bottle of Patrón she’d ordered. Random girls approached her, all knowing about the Sahara incident due to the Internet and the radio. Cooley couldn’t help but snap at each of the whores, who were quite ready to take Sahara’s place.
“Cooley?”
Cooley looked up. Her eyes finally focused in the dim club lighting, and she saw Lena standing in front of her with an inquisitive look on her face.
“Lena? What the hell are you doing here?” Cooley snapped. Out of all the people to call, she couldn’t believe they’d sent Lena to get her.
“Trying to get away from life.” Lena sighed as she looked around the club.
“Oh, well, that makes two of us.” Cooley motioned for Lena to sit down. She poured Lena a shot, which Lena quickly took to her head. “Damn, you weren’t kidding,” Cooley said as she poured another shot for Lena. “Trouble in paradise?”
“Paradise? Yeah, right.” Lena noticed the morose expression on Cooley’s face. “Are you okay?”
“Fucking A-OK. I mean, I’m always supposed to be okay, cool as a fucking fan.” Cooley poured herself another shot.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Good, ’cause I can’t lie. The last thing I want to do is talk about anything.” Lena forced a tiny smile. Cooley couldn’t help but chuckle at drunk Lena.
“So where is Danni?” Cooley turned to Lena. “What is up with you and chicks with D names? You got a thing for the letter or something?”
“I guess, like you and your thing for a’s. I mean, Misha and Sahara.” They both chuckled uncontrollably.
“Lena, you are drunk, boo.” Cooley snickered.
“I know. Another shot please.” Lena held the shot glass up. Cooley’s hand trembled as she poured the shot, most of it landing on Lena’s hand. They couldn’t stop laughing when Lena licked the liquor off of her hand.
The laughter quickly stopped when Lena thought about Denise. “Your best friend isn’t going to pop up here soon, is she?” Lena asked.
Cooley shook her head. “We aren’t seeing eye to eye right now.”
“Again, that makes two of us.” Lena stared into the almost empty bottle until her eyes blurred, causing three Patrón bottles to appear on the table. There was silence as Usher’s “Climax” played in the background. The words were haunting to both of them.
Cooley broke the silence. “I gave up everything for Sahara. I broke the rules. I fell for her, and this is what happens. I never should have fallen in love. Love is for the birds.”
“Hear! Hear!” Lena’s body slouched, and her shoulder rested against Cooley’s. “Fucking love made me for real change everything about me. Before her, I knew what I wanted. Brandon. Now I’m . . . I don’t know what the hell I am now.”
“Girl, please.” Cooley sat up and poured another shot. “You were always gay. I knew that shit the second we saw you on campus.”
“What?” Lena turned her head.
“When we saw you get out of your ride on the first day. I could tell yo’ ass was going.” Cooley chuckled. “I told Denise that I was gon’ get you. But that was before . . . well, before y’all met.”
“You thought I was gay just from seeing me in a parking lot? What are you? Some type of gay whisperer?”
“Nah, I just know women. And you, Lena, had the tendencies, whether you want to admit it or not.”
Lena thought about Cooley’s statement. Had she ever thought about being with a girl before meeting Denise? Her mind raced. She had found women attractive, but that was normal, she thought. She shook her head.
“Well, I thought you were a man when I first met you, until you opened your mouth and that soft-ass voice came out,” Lena said. She and Cooley both laughed. “You know, I bet that’s why all those straight girls like you. They always think you are some sexy dude.”
Cooley smirked. “Nah, I let them know up top what I am and what I can do to them. I had my shit right back then. No love, just pussy and money.” Cooley stared at the table again.
“I can’t lie. I’ve always wondered how you made all those girls go so crazy over you. I mean, that shit was unreal. All those women . . . I think you probably slept with half of the school.”
“Not that many.” Cooley thought about it. She smiled. “Well,
maybe.” She turned to Lena. “You are not so different from me. You had the folks falling for you left and right too.”
“No, I didn’t.” Lena fell back, leaning on Cooley’s side.
“Man, you made my best friend fall for you, and she doesn’t fall for people, not back then. Not to mention Brandon, who probably is still sprung. And that funny-looking chick that you brought to my house for Carmen’s party. I have no idea what you saw in her.”
“Terrin. She was nice.”
“She was funny looking. And was mean muggin’ Dee all night.” Cooley laughed. “That shit was hilarious.”
“Shut up.” Lena playfully hit Cooley.
“For real, Lena, like I told you before, you hold all the power. Hell, even I said to Dee when we first saw you that you could be wifey material. You weren’t like those other chicks. I could tell that from looking at you.” Cooley looked at Lena. “No wonder Denise can’t let you go.”
Lena looked into Cooley’s eyes. “Can’t let me go?”
“Man, Lena, don’t play dumb. You know she still loves you. Denise. Oh, so perfect Denise. For someone so controlled, she never could just lose control and lock you down like she should have.” Cooley shook her head. “All those years of pining for nothing. Couldn’t have been me.”
“Oh, so you think you could have made my confused ass move any faster than Denise?”
“Hell, yeah. It wouldn’t have been all that Brandon shit with me. I would have shown you from day one who the boss was.”
Cooley turned, and her eyes instantly met Lena’s. They moved in, their lips meeting. Cooley’s hand pulled Lena’s head in closer. Their tongues danced. Lena pulled at Cooley’s shirt.
A crash caused them to stop. They looked over to see that a girl had dropped her glass on the floor. They looked at each other but then quickly looked away.
“Um, I think we’ve both had too much to drink.” Cooley shifted away from Lena in the booth.
“I think you’re right.” Lena tried to stand up, but the liquor quickly caught up with her, almost causing her to fall. Cooley caught her by her waist. They looked at each other; guilt covered both of their faces.
“Um, we need to call you a taxi,” Cooley declared and helped Lena walk toward the door.
The hot Atlanta air didn’t help at all in sobering either of them up. They stood next to each other as two taxis pulled up behind them. There were no words as they each got in their separate cabs.
Lena hit herself on the head over and over. “What the fuck did you do?” she repeated over and over. She knew there was no coming back from that. She wondered if Cooley would tell Denise. It was a secret she wanted to take to her grave, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to.
Chapter 31
Misha sat in her car with no place to go. She couldn’t cry: tears wouldn’t fall no matter how badly she wished for them. The whole conversation played over and over in her head.
“You what?”
“Baby . . .” Patrick attempted to hold Misha’s hand, but she jerked away.
“You what?” Misha’s head wouldn’t stop shaking. She knew she couldn’t have heard him correctly.
“I just . . . I was just fucked up, and I made a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Misha’s hands continued to tremble.
The rest of the words were a blur. Patrick explained how he ran into an ex, who was more than willing to give him time during the time that Misha wasn’t. He had been holding it in but couldn’t hold it anymore when he walked in and saw the lavish spread Misha created for them to enjoy.
“I just knew something was off with you, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that you were cheating on me. I just wanted revenge,” Patrick confessed.
“So you fucked some bitch because you thought I was cheating on you?”
With his back against the wall, Patrick couldn’t think of anything to do but fight back.
“Well, you don’t know how you were treating me. You weren’t giving me any time, no sex, no nothing.”
“Fuck you!” Misha snapped. She lost control of herself and began beating Patrick on his chest. He attempted to block the blows. “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!”
“Misha, please!” Patrick grabbed Misha’s wrists. “Please, baby, don’t—”
“Fuck you!” Misha broke down. “I sat up here, willing to give up everything for you, and this is how you fucking repay me. Fuck you, asshole. I hate you!” Misha attacked Patrick verbally like a rattlesnake attacking prey.
Misha couldn’t stay. She ran to her bedroom and threw all the things she could grab into a bag. Patrick pleaded with her and attempted to pull the clothes out of the suitcase. Not willing to fight anymore, Misha grabbed her keys and purse, leaving all her other things in the house. She felt Patrick’s hand grab her arm and jerk her around.
“No, Misha, I’m not letting you leave. You can’t leave me.” Patrick’s eyes burned with pure determination. Misha pulled away.
“I gave up everything for you!” Misha cried as she pushed her husband away. “I did whatever you asked of me. I gave it all up!”
“Baby, please, hear me out. . . .”
“Hear you out? Patrick, that’s all I’ve done is hear you out and do what you fucking say. And you cheat on me because of your own fucking insecurities.” Misha could feel the anger reaching maximum levels. “I could have, you know. I could have easily fucked off on you. I’ve had chances, plenty of them.”
“So is that what you need to do?” Patrick stood in front of her, unwilling to let her pass. “You need to go out and sleep with someone?” He had to force the words out of his mouth. “Because if that’s what you need to do, go do it. Just come back to me. Don’t leave us. Don’t leave our family.”
Misha turned her head. She couldn’t believe what he was saying. She shook her head. Misha thought about all the fights they had had over the past few months. She thought about all the times she had to make up excuses for why she couldn’t go visit Carmen because of his issues with her past. Misha shook her head and huffed. The right side of her mouth curved upward.
“You see, Patrick, the thing is, now I don’t need your fucking permission anymore.” She pushed him again, but her words had cut him to the point where he didn’t fight anymore. Shocked by her statement, he let her pass.
Misha walked out the door, unsure if she wanted to ever return.
Denise opened her front door. Cooley stood there, leaning against the wall. Denise opened the door all the way for her obviously drunk friend.
Cooley stumbled in, finding a seat at the kitchen table, while Denise brewed her a cup of expresso.
“Where have you been?” Denise asked.
“The club.” Cooley stared at Denise’s back. She had never felt so horrible in her life. She wondered if she should tell her or if she should take the mistake to the grave.
“I see you had fun.” Denise turned toward her friend. “Hopefully, not too much fun.”
“Nah. Well . . . no, not too much.”
Denise poured the cup of espresso and walked to the table. She sat down across from Cooley.
“I didn’t mean to come down on you so hard. You know I’m always on your side, and being on your side means I need to let you know when you are doing something that could affect you. . . .”
“It’s cool. I know.” Cooley sipped the hot brew, which burned her tongue. She thought about taking it to the head and letting the cup burn her mouth. Maybe it would burn the essence of Lena out of her mouth. “Where’s Farih?”
“At some event or something. Man, are you okay? Talk to me.”
“I don’t know what I am right now, Dee.” Cooley lowered her head. Denise was her best friend, and the thought of hurting her was killing her. “Dee, I need to tell you something.”
Chapter 32
The cab pulled in front of Lena’s house. She saw Misha’s car sitting in the driveway. Lena’s whole body began to tremble. She now regretted giving Misha a key. She paid the
cabdriver and stumbled to her front door. She found Misha sitting on the couch with a bottle of wine, which was almost completely empty.
“What are you doing here?” Lena’s voice cracked as she used the wall as a guide into her house.
Misha didn’t respond. She continued to stare at the TV, which was playing songs on the R & B and soul music station.
“Misha.” Her call went unanswered again. “Misha, um, sweetie, what are you doing here?” Lena didn’t know what to think of Misha’s frozen state. Was it possible for Misha to find out that quickly? If Cooley had told Carmen and Carmen had told Misha, it was possible she was already screwed. “Um, well, I’m going to my room. I can’t really stand straight.”
Lena walked to her bedroom. Her mind raced with what she might say if Misha ever confronted her about the situation. Lena sat on her bed. She could hear Misha’s footsteps headed toward her bedroom. With each step Lena’s heart pounded harder and harder.
“Lena . . .” Misha’s voice trembled. “Lena, I . . .”
“I’m sorry, Mish.” Suddenly emotions swept over Lena. Tears flowed from Lena’s eyes.
Lena’s response startled Misha. Had Patrick already contacted her?
“I just don’t know what to think,” Misha said and ran to the bed as the first tear fell from her eyes.
“Don’t think anything. It was a mistake.” Lena sobbed.
“I’m just in so much pain. I never thought in a million . . .” A familiar scent entered Misha’s nose. She sniffed again. Misha’s eyes widened. She knew the smell was a bit too familiar, and it covered Lena’s dress. “Lena, who have you been with tonight?”
“Huh?” Lena’s doe-eyed expression hit Misha like a ton of bricks. Lena was confused. How could Misha ask her that when she already knew? “Wait, what are we talking about?”
“You smell . . . you smell like . . . Carla’s cologne.” Misha folded her arms. “God, tell me Danni doesn’t wear that too.”
Lena’s eyes shifted. “Misha, wait. What have you been talking about this whole time? What happened?”