Heard It All Before

by Michele Grant

  “Shouldn’t be no I think so’s this late in the game, girl,” Keisha argued.

  “I know, I know!” Stacie shouted. We all jumped. Stacie never raised her voice. Ever.

  Jewel took her arm and dragged her over to the sofa. She pretty much threw Stacie onto the cushions. “What’s the problem?”

  Stace finally looked up. She looked like she was going to cry ... again. “I guess I love him. He treats me like a queen most of the time. No one has ever treated me like he does.”

  “So?” Roni Mae prompted.

  “So, I still feel like something is missing.” Her voice was so faint; we had to strain to hear her.

  “What?” Keisha asked. “He’s got some money, right?”

  “Keish,” I scolded, “not everything comes down to dollars and cents.”

  She snorted. “Easy for you to say, Ms. Moneybags.” Keisha thought anyone who made over $10.00 an hour was rolling in it.

  “He’s not rich, if that’s what you mean,” Stacie answered. “Probably never will be, but we’ll get by.”

  Inwardly, I cringed at the thought of going into a marriage thinking we’d just “get by.” Hell, if I wanted to just “get by,” I’d stay single.

  “Can he fu—” Tammy caught herself as she realized we were in Stacie’s parents’ house and a minor was present. “There are no sexual problems?” she edited tactfully.

  “Tammy, please,” Jewel snapped before sparing a smile for Marie. “Hey, Marie, can you run upstairs and look for the Extra Strength Advil?”

  She fled like a death-row inmate granted a reprieve.

  After she left the room, Stace laughed. “Sex is all right. I’ve had better; I’ve had worse.”

  Again, I mentally winced. Sex is all right? What the hell was the point of marriage if not finding all your fantasies wrapped in a bow and tying them to you for life? If she was only getting all right sex, at least the boy should have some bank behind him.

  “Well, what about the next forty years? Do they look good with him?” Roni Mae had shaken off her mood to ask an intelligent question.

  “I guess so, but he’s not sure he wants kids.” Leave it to Stacie to break out the major revelation less than twenty-four hours before the nuptials. Damn.

  “You once told me you would be happy with a man who just loved to travel and wanted tons of kids,” I reminded her. Someone had to point out the obvious.

  “Lemme guess, he don’t wanna travel neither?” Keisha asked snidely.

  Stacie put her head down again. I guess that meant no. I glanced at Jewel, who looked alternately pissed off, then worried as hell.

  “Let me see if I can get this right. All this time you’ve been with Oliver, all we’ve heard about is how right, how perfect he is. Now, almost eighteen hours before you are divinely connected in a holy ceremony with this guy, what am I hearing? What’s so right, so perfect about him? He wants no kids, the sex is so-so, you’re not sure you love him, he doesn’t wanna travel, and y’all are going to get by on your public school teacher’s salary and whatever it is Oliver wants to be when he grows up? Am I missing something?” Jewel snapped out impatiently, giving in to the irritation.

  Stacie jumped up. “He treats me like a queen, I said! Like everything I say is important, like I’m the most important thing in the world to him.”

  “You are the most important thing in the world to him—you’re his food and shelter for the next forty years.” It came out before I could stop it. Everyone looked at me, and I refused to take it back. That’s how I read the situation and that was that.

  Stacie started to cry ... yes, again.

  “Aw, shit,” Tammy said, and put her arm around Stace.

  Jewel rolled her eyes. “Stace. I hear what you’re saying behind all of this. Your parents have done a good job of ignoring you for the past twenty-nine years, and all your major relationships have left you feeling like you weren’t important to anyone. Deep down, I know you know that’s not true. Now, if you’re only marrying Oliver because he puts you on a pedestal, don’t do it. If you’re only marrying Oliver because black men have trampled you and you don’t trust them anymore, don’t do it. If you’re only marrying Oliver because you don’t want to start all over and look for someone else, don’t do it. But if you really love him, can’t imagine not spending the rest of your life with him, feel absolutely comfortable with having him as your lover and best friend forever more, go for it and to hell with everything and everyone else.”

  Stace had stopped crying, but she still looked scared as hell. “How long do I have to decide?”

  Jewel visibly bit her tongue and shot me a look. I shrugged back at her. I figured I’d already said too much, but I was dying to say that she’d had the last year and a half to decide.

  Roni Mae smiled. “Seems to me like you got ’til tomorrow at three.”

  Roman—Friday, August 13, 11:40 p.m.

  Stace and Ollie brought the wedding party out to a club instead of doing separate bachelor/bachelorette things. Personally, I didn’t think Stace trusted his ass ... couldn’t say as I blamed her. Bad enough that a fine sister was hooking up with this little white boy, but he ain’t ’bout shit neither! I could see it if he had a little something on the ball. My guess was he must be putting it to her pretty good, ’cause otherwise I just didn’t see the appeal. Boy was bringing nothing to the table as far as I can tell. Program was raggedy, not the most thoughtful or well-bred dude, the résumé was tired, and he had NO game—he must had to be knocking it out the box.

  Anyway, we’d been here since eleven, and I was just ’bout ready to call this evening a night. First off, it was old-school jam night. Their idea of old school was songs from the early nineties! Now I got this damn Patrick yanking my chain. We met a couple weeks ago, and I felt it was my place to pull him to the side and hip him to the real, ya know? Let him know that, ah, whatever little plans he had for him and my Jewellen Rose, he could deep-six ’em. I thought he was feeling my vibe, but the brother just seemed to wanna step incorrect on this.

  Here we were at the club, and whatcha think was the first thing he did? Goes and grabs Miss Jewel from right under my arm and waltzes her out on the dance floor. I wasn’t one to play that shit. I’d’ve called him on it, too, but he’d been jocking every girl in the joint, even Stace. So I said to myself, Okay, Rome, chill. Brother just activating his little player card, nothing personal.

  Now I look up during the last little step he cut with Miss Jewel, and what did I see? His hand wandering a little farther south than needs be. Some negroes just made you act a damn fool. Now here I had to go handle business.

  Soon as they came off the floor, I grabbed Miss Jewel, went back on the floor, and wrapped her tight. Soon as she relaxed against me, I leaned down and let her know, “Okay, so you either put him in check or I’ma shut it down for you.”

  “He’s just trying to stir up something. If he comes around again, I’ll back him down, big boy.” She smiled up at me.

  “Um-hmm, ’cause I’m done with the nonsense now.” I just wanted to be clear. Like I said, not possessive but I had my limits.

  Miss Jewel tilted her head back and laughed. “That your way of saying you’ve had all you can stands and you can’t stands no more, Popeye?” She slid her hand around to the nape of my neck and started doing a little tickling thing she knew gets to me every time ... every damn time.

  Forgot what I was kinda pissy about and grinned down at her. “You tryin’ to start a li’l somethin’ somethin’ out here, Miss Jewel?” I slid my hands down to her hips.

  She arched her back some and looked up at me through her lashes. “And what if I am?” She slid a hand up my thigh. This was one of the little things I really dug about Miss Jewel—she came across all proper and serious, but truly, baby had a wild side! Always teasing, playing, and joking. I never knew when she would just break loose with something semiscandalous. I liked that.

  “Oh, you wanna play now, huh?” Damn some Patrick. Sta
rted thinking it was really time to rise up outta here so me and baby could have a party of our own.

  “Ready, willing, and able, player.” Hey, I didn’t have to be asked twice. As I was scouting quick escape routes to the parking lot, she leaned forward and kissed—naw, licked—down the side of my neck and back up.

  Oh, it was on. It suddenly occurred to me that Miss Jewel had imbibed a few glasses of bubbly. I began to wonder how many. ’Cause, Miss Jewel was kinda reserved in public. She didn’t like to draw too much attention, wasn’t really one to advertise her relationships. A little hand-holding, a peck on the cheek. Pretty much minded her own and expected everyone else to do the same. So imagine my surprise when the beat picked up and Miss Jewel took a step back, threw her hands over her head, and commenced to jammin’.

  “Seriously?” I asked her with a smile. Were we getting down like THAT tonight?

  She flung her head back and smiled. “Seriously.”

  Not her regular style of dancing, which was more like a sedate Sade sway with a neck bop. Naw, Miss Jewel was cutting loose. The song was Ludacris’s “Money Maker,” and she was doing it justice. She stepped to me, turned around, backed her butt up against me, and shimmied all the way down to the ground. Hot damn, did she just drop it like it’s hot?

  She turned and went to bumping and grinding on me. She tossed her hair, threw that chest out, and looked straight at me. “Can you keep up, player?” Well, hell. What was a man to do? I grabbed her hips and we started rocking.

  “Get it, girl!” Keisha came out on the dance floor with Arthur, quickly going into her video-girl mode—not PG-13. Jewel and I stopped for a second to watch before getting back into it. Arthur was actually keeping up, which was no small feat. Considering Keisha had called him a “limey cracker” earlier in the night, they seemed to be getting along real well. Arthur was a lot more down than Ollie, who was sitting in the corner sucking on another beer. Nothing says classy like getting quietly sloshed at your prewedding party.

  Patrick came out on the floor with Stacie, and if I were Oliver, I’da ganked his ass. I thought Jewel and I were gettin’ a little nasty, but it was nothing compared to Stace and Pat. They were downright raunchy. I never knew little Stace had it in her. She did some move where she kicked her thigh up while gyrating her hips forward.

  Jewel snickered. “Oh my!”

  Renee came out with Greg, took one look at everyone, and leaned over to Jewel. “You all right, girl?” She started doing a quiet little side step. Yeah, right.

  Jewel grinned at her and turned her head back to me. “Renee ain’t foolin’ no damn body—she’s about the wildest dancer you’ve ever seen. Skipping and jumping all over the place with that ass stuck way out. I guess she’s trying to hide her wilder side from Gregory.”

  I looked as Greg put his arms out on either side of Renee and started to rocking up against her. “Greg’s got her number.”

  “Oh yeah? ‘Shake, shake what ya mama gave ya.’ ” Jewel was singing along to the music.

  I thought I’d sing a verse too. “ ‘You lookin’ good in them jeans. Bet you’d look even better with me in between ...’ ” Granted, the lyrics weren’t Shakespeare, but the beat was slamming.

  “Is that right?” She sent me one of my favorite smiles. The one that says it was about to be on and popping.

  The song changed to an old Jay-Z tune, so we kept dancing. For an uptown girl, she got some ghetto taste in music. We danced the next three before they played something random, and we headed back to the table. I threw an arm around Jewel as we sat down. “We leaving soon, babe?”

  She swigged the last of the champagne in her glass and smiled at me. Leaning toward me, she whispered in my ear, “Got somewhere else you’d rather be?”

  Times like this when I just wanna wrap this girl up, take her home, and never let her out. I tipped her head up and dropped a swift kiss on her lips. “Yeah, definitely got somewhere else I’d like to be.”

  She pulled my head back down and laid one on me. We were still going after it when Renee and Greg came back.

  “Hey, black people, get a room!” Renee said.

  That girl sure knew how to spoil a moment.

  Jewel pulled her head back and smiled. “Romeo and I are ... Wait a minute, what’s the phrase? We ’bout to rise up outta here.” I grinned down at her, she was so cute when she was trying to be hip.

  Renee’s eyes went wide. “You can’t leave now. The bride is still here. You’re the maid of honor. We need to stay with Stacie! And God knows, someone’s gotta watch her.”

  I started to say something, but Jewel put a hand on my arm. “Damn, Renee. She’s got a fiancé, an older brother, and quite a few friends here; she can do without me for the rest of the night.”

  “Oh, and he can’t?” Renee motioned to me. She had a real funky-assed habit of talking about me as if I wasn’t two feet from her fake ass.

  Again, I wanted to say something. This wasn’t the first time that Renee’s raggedy ’tude got on my nerves. Greg must’ve sensed that I was getting ready to get on that ass, ’cause he looked at me and spoke up. “Ray, baby, chill out. Let a black man and a black woman be in love, huh?”

  She spun around to look at him. “But, Greg, she’s the maid of—”

  He looked her straight in the eye. “Ray, sit down and leave it.”

  She sat. I ain’t lying—my mouth fell open. So did Jewellen’s. We both looked at Gregory with a new respect. He winked at us and sat down, offering Renee a glass of champagne as he dropped an arm around her.

  “He’s got her ass in check and on lockdown, don’t he? That’s what I’m talking about. Handle your woman, bruh!” Aaron said from the table behind us.

  I winced. I may have thought it, I might even have applauded it in my mind, but would I have ever uttered the words aloud? Hell, no.

  Jewellen and Roni Mae turned to Aaron at the same time and said, “What did you say?”

  Poor Aaron sat, trapped by the angry beams of their glares. I tried to look as invisible as possible. Times like this when women turned on men as a species. I was trying to disassociate.

  “What did he say?” Renee tried to jump on the bandwagon. She was ignored.

  Roni Mae went off. “See, that’s why I’ve ’bout had it with yo’ triflin’ ass, Aaron Paris. What kinda shitty thing is that to say? To think? Like you tryin’ to keep somebody in check round here? You tryin’ to run somethin’? You think your sorry ass got me in lockdown?” Ah hell, some shit was about to jump off.

  Aaron looked nervous. “Veronica, don’t front. Chill ’til we get home, babe. And we’ll talk about it there.”

  “The hell we will.” Roni Mae got up and dug some keys out of her purse. She looked at Jewel and Renee. “I’m out. One of y’all see that Mouth Almighty gets a ride to his own damn apartment.” She looked out toward the dance floor, then over to Oliver. “And, Oliver, could ya please put that damn beer down, get off ya apathetic ass, and peel ya fiancée off ya groomsman?”

  Oliver jumped and looked up to see that Stace was indeed wrapped around Patrick. Like I said, beatdown would have been in full effect twenty minutes ago. He walked over to the edge of the dance floor with his beer still in his hand.

  “Roni—” Aaron started, but she threw a hand out.

  “Do not go there with me, boy. Later.” She rolled outta there in no time.

  “Let’s shuffle, doll,” I told Jewel, and she nodded.

  “Renee, do something about that.” She waved a hand toward her ex and the bride- and groom-tobe. They were all in heated discussion in the middle of the joint. I noticed that Patrick still had an arm around Stacie. See? Just wrong.

  “Later, G.” I shook hands with Gregory as we walked past. “Renee.” I nodded politely. Madere raised me well, as I truly wanted to shoot her the finger.

  Jewel and I waved at Tammy, who was off in the corner with some dude she just met. When we walked outside, I grabbed Jewel’s hand and sighed. “Glad to be outta the
re, baby. Bad shit was fittin’ ta happen.”

  She nodded. “Ain’t it the truth?”

  We strolled in silence for a minute before coming to a standstill. Leaning all up against my car were Keisha and Arthur. Had their tongues deep in each other’s throats. Hands all over unmentionable parts. “Ain’t this some raggedy shit?” I muttered to Jewellen. Jungle fever all over the damn place. Folks wilding out in public places.

  “Hey, wanna ease up there for a minute?” I raised my voice.

  Arthur lifted his head. “Oh my God.” He was gasping for breath, and his face was bright red.

  “He can’t do nuthin for ya right now, Artie. You and the fly girl carry that on to another car so Miss Jewel and I can roll on to the crib.” Arthur took Keisha’s hand and started dragging her away.

  Keisha looked at Jewel. “Girl, don’t tell no one whatcha seen, swear?”

  Jewel shrugged. “Shit, girl, I’m not your mother. You’ve been over twenty-one for a while now, huh?”

  “I mean it, girl. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Jewel looked at Arthur, who wasn’t about to let go of his newfound chocolate treat. “Whatever, girl. Go on and handle your business like you want.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  I had to nip all this in the bud. “We got shit to do. Y’all keep it real. Let’s move.” I damn near lifted Miss Jewel into the Pathfinder.

  “Tomorrow at one, your place?” Keisha called.

  “Yeah!” Jewel said as I slammed the door shut. I started the car and backed out of the lot quickly. “You’re driving like a man with an agenda, Romeo.”

  “ ‘Shake ya money maker like somebody ’bout ta pay ya ...’ ” I reminded her of the Ludacris lyrics with a little grin.

  “We’re gonna have to do more than that, player.” She was working that tone of voice.

  I almost ran a red light. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Might have to break out some props.” She grinned.