by Cydney Rax
She playfully batted her eyelashes at him. Then she picked up a comb and started fussing with her hair. “Are you saying that because you think I’m gonna give you some, or do you really mean it?”
Burgundy still felt guilty; the majority of her energy was reserved for the girls, the businesses, and various civic duties. She knew her Viagra argument could only last so long. And this holiday week would feel like Christmas for her husband, because that’s when she planned to offer him a pity fuck to tide him over.
“Look, woman,” Nate replied. “I don’t have to give you a fake compliment. You know you look sexy.” And she did.
“Nate, you always know what to say.”
“I’m not just saying it. I mean it.”
“But why? Like, you don’t seem terribly angry at me for holding out.” She paused. “Does that mean you’ve found another lover?” She sat completely still, bracing herself for the confession she did not want to hear.
“No, babe. Ain’t no other lover. I’m waiting on my one and only.”
His words calmed and soothed her conscience. “Nate, I tell you, sweetie. I feel so lucky to have a husband like you. Any other man would have sought an affair. And if you did, it would be all my fault.”
He just looked at her.
“And I-I really gotta do b-better,” she stammered. “Do much better than I’m doing, because I would never want another woman to steal you away from me.”
“Ha,” he laughed in mockery. “No one is checking for an old man like me.”
“Don’t fool yourself, baby.” She set down the comb and studied him. Her husband was a handsome, well-to-do guy. Any sane woman would be dying to be with Nate. “You still look amazing for your age. And trust me, I’ve noticed how those women at church are always up in your face, flirting, smiling, and acting like they want to ask you a question about scriptures and whatnot.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “They’re just being friendly. You have nothing to worry about, my love.”
At his promises her heart wanted to melt. Other than his earnest yearnings for lovemaking, her spouse seemed too good to be true. Hardworking, attractive, churchgoing, and his pockets were padded, because if there was one thing Nate knew how to do, it was how to earn money. It made her feel good to be financially stable and to have the house and cars, wardrobe and jewelry.
“Nate, don’t be naïve. I know women. I know hussies. I know home wreckers. And our church is filled with them. I got my eye on those women, because obviously you’re too gullible to even know when someone wants you. Take Sister Glover, for example.”
“That fat old thing. You know how I feel about obese women.”
“Please. That fat old thing still has a big you-know-what, and she’d love to show it to you first chance she gets.”
He grimaced. “Nah, Sister Glover is not my type.”
“What did you say?” she asked with raised eyebrows.
Nate laughed again. “I said stop wasting time and get yourself ready for your family. Go on and get dressed before I do something to you that’ll make you totally forget about turkey and dressing.”
She smiled. “I’m so glad you have a sense of humor about all of this.”
“I’ll go check on the girls.”
“Thanks, Nate.”
She turned back to the mirror and made sure that every single hair was in place. Burgundy always felt excited when the sisters could hang out at her house. She had thought about wearing a fancy cocktail dress with her favorite red-bottom pumps, but mulled over what Alita had recently complained about her. She felt blessed to live a good life but genuinely didn’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable. Burgundy put on a casual pair of white denim jeans, a simple blue-and-yellow printed V-neck blouse, and a warm pair of mink house slippers, then headed to the kitchen.
After Nate went to check on the girls, Burgundy asked him to go to the grocery store to pick up some last-minute items. She waved goodbye to him and rushed to look inside the oven at several pans of cornbread and desserts that she’d baked.
Five minutes later, when Burgundy opened the front door, she noticed how much Tyrique’s eyes sparkled as he held Dru’s hand tightly. She was even happy to see Alita; she had expected Shade to show up with her, but her sister told her she wasn’t comfortable having him spend a major holiday with her dysfunctional family just yet.
Burgundy gave her the side-eye but greeted everyone else who came through the door. “Hi, my family. I’m so happy you all could make it. Where’s Leno?” she asked.
“His dad has him,” Alita answered. “First time in years he’s been with him on this holiday. I decided not to fight it.”
“Oh, I heard that. Thank God,” Burgundy said as she invited everyone inside.
When Coco finally arrived, she waddled in huffing and puffing with all her babies in tow, plus Calhoun.
Everyone congregated in the gourmet kitchen.
“Hey, brother-in-law,” Coco greeted Tyrique. She was grinning when she said it.
“Coco, you got jokes,” Dru casually replied. She stood in the butler’s pantry where the countertops were lined with bowls of every type of food imaginable: cornbread dressing, giblet gravy, black-eyed peas, collard greens, candied yams, potato salad, corn pudding, and other casseroles. She was tempted to grab a spoon and scoop up a bite of creamy mashed potatoes, but Tyrique jumped to her side.
“Let me help,” he said.
“That’s sweet of you, but I got this.”
“Girl, you better let your future husband cater to you.” Burgundy eagerly joined in on the lightweight teasing. She beamed at the crowd that had gathered in her kitchen. She winked at Tyrique. He blushed and helplessly shoved his hands inside his pockets. Tyrique wore his hair natural, and he was always seen in his black geek eyeglasses. Burgundy thought he was adorable.
“Hey, Ty,” Burgundy said. “I haven’t seen you in a minute, and I’m always asking my sister about you. How is your animal lab job at the med center?”
“Busy. Crazy. But good,” he responded.
“Umph,” Coco sniffed. “You be around all them nasty research animals . . . I sure hope you wash your hands real good.”
Tyrique laughed good-naturedly. “That is a no-brainer Ms. Coco.” He reached inside his man purse and produced a miniature bottle of hand sanitizer.
“Dru?” he said. She obediently opened her palm. Tyrique squeezed a drop of liquid and watched Dru vigorously rub her hands while he did the same.
“Well, look a here,” Alita said. “A true gentleman that won’t even let his woman squeeze her own bottle. Bloop!”
“Hush, Alita,” Dru told her. “Tyrique just notices a lot. He rarely misses a detail.”
“That’s the way a good man should be,” Coco said, happy for her sister to have such a decent man.
“Queen B, does what’s-his-face cater to you?” Alita asked point blank.
“Absolutely,” Burgundy shot back.
“Where is he anyway?”
“Nate will be back soon. He went to the store to pick up some more drinks and bags of ice. He did it without my even asking him to,” she said, telling a quick lie.
“She’s going to always take up for her hubby,” Dru stated matter-of-factly.
“Yes, I am. He’s good to me so I’m good to him. That’s the way it ought to be.”
Alita bristled with envy. The house felt so ritzy that Alita was afraid to touch anything: Italian marble tiling in some rooms, plus lush carpet or Brazilian hardwood flooring in others. Decorative items hung from the ceilings or dotted the place, most of them made of crystal or glass. The spacious, well-furnished home reminded her of Leonard’s, and the comparison made her feel depressed.
She thought about how she was struggling to maintain her overpriced two-bedroom apartment that was located on the third floor. Sure, she wasn’t homeless, and she tried to keep the place clean and presentable, but she always felt self-conscious when recruiters came by to visit.
“Must be nice, B,” Alita commented. “Looks like Kim, Kanye, North, and Saint live here.”
“Might I remind you, Nate and I didn’t steal this house,” Burgundy said defensively. “We worked for it. We hustle hard. That’s what we do.”
“What you trying to say? That I don’t bust my ass for my coins? I get three W-2’s every February and let me tell you, I still don’t own anything that comes close to this.”
“Is that my fault?” Burgundy asked.
“Yes,” Alita answered stubbornly.
“Sis, get real. It’s not what you earn; it’s what you do with what you earn.”
“Are you serious, B? How can I do something with nothing?”
“Alita, please lower your voice.”
“Why should I? Who we around besides family? Who you trying to impress this time?” Alita walked back and forth, using the thick heels of her boots to stomp on the Italian marble. “Word on the street is that you pay twenty-five grand a year in taxes for this house. Is that true? Y’all balling like that? Do you know what I could do with twenty-five G’s? How many bills I could pay? The type of car I could have instead of that old piece of shit Chevy Impala that I drive every day?” She nearly wanted to burst into tears when she thought about the unfairness of it all.
Coco, Calhoun, Dru, Tyrique, Elyse, and the kids gawked at Alita.
“Alita, just stop it.” Burgundy was fed up. “You’re making a scene . . . again. That’s what you do. For some reason, everything in the world is always about you. You are notorious for bringing up stuff that no one else is even thinking about, but I won’t have you ruin the holiday. Not this year!” Burgundy took a deep breath. She didn’t want Alita to hold that much power over her and waited until she calmed herself.
“Sweetie, look. I know you’re struggling and trying your best. Everything isn’t exactly the way you want them to be. But look on the bright side. You aren’t homeless. You get paychecks every week.”
“You call those pennies I make money? That ain’t shit—”
“It’s better than nothing,” Burgundy told her. “Some people would be glad to get those checks.”
“Oh, yeah? Want to trade places?”
Burgundy avoided the question. “Plus you get child support, Alita. Why do you keep going around with this ‘woe is me, I’m poor, I’m so poor’ sob story? What you doing with the money?”
Alita was shocked. “I-I’m stretching those dollars. I pay bills. I pay a car note.”
“You’re still paying a loan on a used car?”
“Blame the car dealer that gave me that ridiculous interest rate. It was a seventy-two-month note at eleven percent interest.”
“Wow, why so high?”
“My credit score was six fifty,” Alita flatly told her.
Burgundy moaned in horror. “You never should have agreed to such a thing. Learn to shop around. No one would have ever guessed your ex is a car salesman.”
“Are we done with crucifying me yet? ’Cause I swear I’m just about ready to rise my ass from the dead.”
“All I’m saying is that was then,” Burgundy rushed to tell her. “But from now on, Alita, you need to make better financial decisions.” She paused momentarily, wanting to lighten the tense atmosphere. “And if you keep guiding Leno in the right direction like I know that you will, you are well on your way to having good things, much more money, because we know Leno is going to be in the NBA one day. I’m sure his contract will be worth millions. Mmm hmmm. And he’s going to buy you a nice house, girl. He’ll move you out of Houston and into the suburbs. Wouldn’t that be awesome? Plus, we all know you’re working on having a decent relationship,” Burgundy remarked. “So be patient, Lita. Stay positive. Keep your thoughts right. You have to see silver linings, not just the bad. And quit comparing yourself to other—”
“Ughhhh,” Alita loudly groaned. “I can’t take this sickening positive thinking you keep throwing at me. Y’all got anything strong to drink, B? My throat is parched.”
“Parched?” Burgundy cackled. “What’s with the big words? Knowing you, you’ve probably been sipping on gin and juice all morning.”
“Hmm. I hella wish I could taste gin and juice.”
Instantly, a female voice said, “Playing ‘Gin and Juice’ by Snoop Dogg from Prime Music.” The bass line of the song began thumping. The Moog synthesizer riff wailed from the Amazon Echo device that was sitting in the corner of the kitchen countertop.
“What the hell?” Alita said, looking all around her.
“Oh,” Burgundy said with a laugh. “That’s Alexa. We bought that Echo not too long ago. And Alexa is nosy . . . dipping in our conversation. She probably thought I told her to play ‘Gin and Juice.’”
Alita started rocking her head to the beat.
“You like that, huh?” Burgundy asked. “Nate loves Alexa. She’s the only woman on earth that does exactly what he tells her. And she ought to, as much as we paid for her.”
“See what I’m talking about? Y’all buy things you don’t even need, like an Echo. What the hell is it anyway?”
“Voice control device. You ask it questions and it’ll answer. News, weather, traffic. Obviously it plays music. And it even can open the garage door, turn on lights, turn on ceiling fans.”
“So this device can do everything except fuck your husband, huh?”
“That’s crude, Alita.”
“It’s the truth. You know we’re all about telling the truth around here.”
Burgundy wanted to laugh but knew it would come out sounding bitter. She gave Alita an odd look and stepped to the side to attend to her various baked pies.
Alita opened the refrigerator and found herself something to drink. She stood around, sipping on a glass of sparkling ginger punch, and tried to relax. “Hey, sisters, guess what? I was on Facebook this morning. Remember the Thompson family that lived across the street from us when we were growing up? I learned that they ended up moving to Jackson, Mississippi. But I still remember the oldest brother, Jay, and his baby sister, Charlotte.”
“I remember,” Burgundy said. “What about them?”
“Girl, I came across Jay’s profile picture. He’s fat.”
“Who isn’t?”
“And Charlotte? She’s gay.”
“Who isn’t?” Burgundy shrugged. “People get fat and people get gay.”
“And some are fat and gay,” Alita remarked. “But I ain’t one to judge.”
Just then Nate stormed through the kitchen door that led from the garage. His arms were laden with twelve packs of soda, and his hands carried bags of ice.
Tyrique jumped to his feet, immediately grabbing a few cases. The others stood about in an open area; both the kitchen and cozy breakfast room faced the family room.
“You good?” Calhoun said, addressing Nate, then he went and got comfortable as he sat on the sofa in front of the TV; he wanted to watch the Cowboys play the Saints. Chloe, Cadee, and Chance followed after him.
When Alita stared a hole through Coco, then frowned in Calhoun’s direction, at first Coco pretended she did not notice the way her man had up and left the kitchen. But Coco still had something to say.
“At least my man loves me enough to show his face with the family on a holiday. That’s all that matters.”
“Oh, don’t give me that shit,” Alita said. “He may as well have stayed home. His bum ass ain’t lifting one finger to help nobody.”
“Don’t you see our kids on his lap? Watching the kids is helping. Stop hating. Leave mines alone and try to hold onto yours . . . unless you already scared the poor man away.”
“Huh? What you mean? Where you hear that?”
“OMG. She did scare Shade away. What you do this time?”
Alita gave Coco a frustrated look. She grabbed her drink and immediately fled the kitchen. Both Burgundy and Dru scurried after her. Alita went into a nearby powder room. She quickly locked the door and turned on the water faucet. She couldn’t bear to look at hers
elf in the mirror. If she did, the only thing she’d see were her reddened eyes. She always hated holidays. It was the time when she felt the most alone. Even though she was around a lot of people, it felt like she was on a deserted island.
Burgundy shouted from outside the bathroom door. “Please, Alita, unlock the door. I want to know what’s going on.”
“No. Leave me alone. I’ll be all right. I’m just peeing.”
“You are not!”
“Don’t believe me? Listen to this!” Alita lifted her skirt, pulled down her cotton panties, and sat on the commode. She let out a blast of gas and made splashing sounds in the toilet.
“Ewwww!” she heard Burgundy say. “Please spray when you’re done.”
“Happy now?” Alita didn’t care if Burgundy answered her or not. Her face was marked with anger.
I met a really nice guy. My son isn’t locked up in jail. Why is it so hard for me to stay happy?
“Alita, it’s Dru. Will you open the door for me? I have something I want to show you.”
“Y ’all need to ease up and give me some privacy. I’ll be out when I feel like it.”
Alita flushed the commode, then washed her hands, and finally got the courage to examine her reflection in the mirror. She had inherited her daddy’s big brown eyes and her mother’s full lips and high cheekbones. Her complexion was considered redbone and her long hair was dyed reddish blond. Alita was a real beauty resembling an older Keyshia Cole. But for some reason her vision merely focused on the series of blemishes and dark spots on her cheeks, the ones that came from all the scratching she had done when she had chicken pox. She turned her head sideways and noticed a tiny black mole behind her left ear. She was the only sister with a mole. And her eyebrows were thin, not thick and beautiful like Dru’s.
“What the fuck. It is what it is,” she told herself. She found the air freshener, sprayed, then opened the door.
“Girl, don’t you be scaring us like this.” Dru pretended to choke Alita.
“I’m not a kid. I can potty by myself.”
“We know this, Alita,” Burgundy said. “It’s not your physical condition that we’re concerned about. What’s going on? Are you still mad at me?”