Getting to the Good Part

by Lolita Files

  Misty, feeling me, slipped her hand into mine and squeezed.

  She pressed 1 again and paused.

  “Me,” she said, and pressed 1.

  “Me.”

  Pause. Press.

  “Me.”

  Pause. Press.

  She was quiet, listening intently.

  I looked up from the floor at her, trying to read her expression. It was stone.

  My stomach lurched and made an ugly, churning sound. My sphincter felt dysfunctional. I thought I was going to shit, right there on that couch.

  Misty pressed a button on the phone several times, in rapid succession.

  “Here!!” she said quickly, handing the phone to me.

  I recoiled, sick to my stomach.

  She pressed the button several times more, and thrust the phone at me again.

  “Take it, fool!!” she exclaimed.

  I reached for it, my hand shaking violently. I put the phone up to my ear.

  I heard the deep drone of Julian’s voice. It was curt and brief.

  “You got it, bitch” was all he said.

  The message was so brief, it took me a second or two for it to really sink in.

  I pressed the number 4, the code to rewind, three times in a row, to take the message back to the beginning.

  “You got it, bitch.”

  I pressed 4 again three times.

  “You got it, bitch.”

  Press press press.

  “You got it, bitch.”

  Press press press.

  “You got it, bitch.”

  Misty snatched the phone from me, squealing as she did so.

  “You got it, biiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch!!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

  I sat there, shaking, grinning, sick to my stomach, about to blow a lobe. And my lower intestine.

  “I got it,” I repeated nervously. “I got it. He said I got it.”

  Misty was up on her feet at this point, hopping around the room.

  I would have gotten off the couch and jumped up and down with her, but I was afraid that the imaginary cork in my behind that was holding everything together would come undone, and shit would be all over the place. I needed to keep my ass still, and let all this sink in.

  Rick rushed out from the back.

  “What’s going on out here?”

  Misty continued to hop up and down. She bounced her way over to him like an oversized brown Energizer bunny.

  “Reesy just got the lead in Black Barry’s Pie!!!” she sang happily.

  When she reached him, she flung her arms around his neck.

  “Getdafugout!” Rick cried. “Gon’, girl! Congratulations! Couldn’t have happened to a nicer girl.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, still catatonic over the whole thing.

  Misty grabbed his hands and danced with him around the room, singing the same phrase over and over.

  “Reesy just got the lead in Black Barry’s Pi-ie!”

  I smiled at the two of them, every now and then catching the glimmer from her ring as she bounced my way.

  “This was a banner day for both of us, huh, girl?” Misty panted, still dancing.

  “Looks like it,” I said with a smile.

  “Don’t count me out,” Rick said, giving Misty a kiss on the lips. “Don’t forget, I just got engaged. It’s my lucky day, too!”

  “Yeah, baby!” she cooed. “I know what! Let’s break out the ’pipple!”

  “’Pipple?” I asked, confused.

  “Champipple,” Rick explained. “Champagne. Time to celebrate. We always keep some chillin’ in the fridge. I’ll go get it.”

  He freed himself from her clutches and rushed off to the kitchen.

  “I luh dat man.” Misty grinned. “I sho’nuf do!”

  I pressed my lips into a smile, silently wondering why they always kept champagne chillin’. Were they doing that much celebrating these days? I thought she had been missing me so.

  Misty scampered over to me, throwing her arms around my neck.

  “And I luz you, too, baby! I’m so glad we’re back together again!”

  “Me, too.”

  Rick came back in with three glasses and the bottle of ’pipple. It was that Veuve stuff she had ordered at the Soul Cafe. I recognized the yellow label. He handed us each a glass and began to pour.

  “To friends,” he toasted.

  “To friends,” Misty repeated.

  “Ditto,” I mumbled, a semi-fake smile plastered on my face.

  “And to family,” Rick added, looking at Misty with special meaning.

  “To family,” she repeated in a soft voice.

  They leaned in toward each other and kissed.

  I suddenly felt like a voyeur.

  As I watched them, a part of me was filled with a bittersweet feeling. Misty had found her man and was about to move on to the next level.

  But another part of me, this very strange, weird, funky jealous side of Reesy Snowden, was very much annoyed.

  Miss Divine was acting just a little too giddy for my tastes. Over a man, albeit an ostensibly nice one. Just because he had asked her to marry him, she suddenly seemed to think that everything was right with the world.

  I felt somewhat guilty and ashamed, knowing that a side of me wasn’t exactly reveling in her joy. Inasmuch as she was there for me at that moment, genuinely reveling in mine.

  I wanted to bust her bubble a little bit. Sprinkle a little rain on her parade.

  (Like I said, I’m not proud that I felt that way.)

  But I wanted to put a halt to some of that happy happy joy joy she was suddenly flinging around at the universe.

  I wanted to see it stopped.

  ’Pipple and all, if you know what I mean.

  RETURN OF THE MACK

  Gordon and Julian threw a big bash at Nell’s to celebrate Rowena’s moving on to bigger things in L.A. and me taking over the role of Mimosa.

  Everyone in the cast was on hand to get their boogie on. We had that place jam-packed, upstairs and downstairs.

  I was there doing it up with Donovan, much to Tamara’s dismay.

  I now posed a double threat to her. I had two things she had desperately wanted and lost.

  I didn’t rub it in, though. All I had to do to put myself in check was remember how I felt, sitting there on Misty’s couch, terrified within an inch of soiling myself at the prospect that I hadn’t gotten the part.

  Tamara was handling all this far better than I probably would have. Her mouth was stuck out a lot, but she was still around.

  If I hadn’t gotten the role, I can’t say for certain that I would have been able to show my face in that theater again.

  I expected Misty and Rick to show up sometime around ten.

  In the meantime, I was whooping it up with Julian, Donovan, and the gang.

  “You ready to take on your first show as the star, Miss Thang?!” Julian yelled over the loud, bumpin’ sounds of Janet Jackson’s “Got ’Til It’s Gone.”

  Julian, Donovan, Gordon, Rowena, Rowena’s man Jeff, and I were all sitting around on couches downstairs, chillin’.

  “I’m ’bout as ready as I’m gon’ get,” I squealed, a drink in my hand.

  I had my buzz on, and I was feeling reeeeaaaaallll good. My body swayed to the music as I spoke.

  “You’d better be ready, girlfriend!” Rowena snapped with a twisted grin. “My ass is history as of tomorrow morning! I’ll be leeeeeeeevin’, on a jet plane!”

  She stretched her arms out like wings and pretended she was flying.

  Ol’ girl was flying for real. She had downed her fair share of drinks along with me. We had been tossing ‘em back since around six that evening.

  “It’s all good,” I replied, still rocking my body to the music. “Don’t even sweat it.”

  “All right, now!” Gordon chuckled, in that thick pea-soupy laugh of his. “First time I see a slipup, I’m trading you in for Tamara!”

  He was drinking Courvoisier, an
d had one of those smooth grown-folks’ highs going on. Not the get-loose, let’s-fuck, all-loud-and-wrong delirious state of drunkenness my generation and under tended to fall into.

  We all burst out laughing at his comment.

  “Let’s dance,” Donovan whispered in my ear, smelling like gin.

  “All About the Benjamins” was playing. As much as I liked the song now, I wondered if I’d even remember it existed in a year or two. Or a month or two.

  Another Puff Daddy hit soon to be come and gone.

  I let Donovan lead me out on the floor, and immediately began to shake my body down. I waved my hands around in the air and worked my hips with abandon. I was feelin’ too good.

  I had my braids pinned up in a ball, but I reached up and, one by one, pulled the hairpins out. I let them drop on the dance floor where they may.

  My braids now free, I slung my head around like a wild woman, doin’ my thang and rubbing up on Donovan for no reason other than just to make his dick hard.

  Mr. Brass Wawtahbed responded accordingly.

  “If you’re good,” he crooned, coming close to my ear from behind, “I’ll let you work the stick in my ride!”

  “Get some new lines, nigga,” I mumbled over my shoulder. “That ol’ tired-ass Morris Day shit is long played out.”

  I kept dancing, bending my back and working my butt deep into his crotch.

  I hadn’t been with Donovan sexually in a long while. I had closed that chapter, having rapidly become bored and unenthused by his recycled banter. But he still made for entertaining company sometimes. Gave me somebody to laugh at.

  He was, however (as he himself professed), sprung. And he refused to give up, putting all his other women down in the hopes of bedding me again.

  I wasn’t in the least bit interested.

  Someone came up to me on the dance floor and handed me a drink. A glass of champagne.

  I took it, without question, and tossed it back. It was delicious.

  “Bednot do that, girl,” Donovan warned, like he was my daddy. “Somebody’ll be done slipped your ass a mickey.”

  I spun around, dancing all up underneath his nose, slanging my braids.

  “How do you know ’bout slippin’ folks mickeys, is what I wanna know!” I replied, and spun back around, once again giving him my rootie-patootie to dance with.

  And kiss.

  Another glass of champagne came my way.

  I took it and was about to chugalug.

  Donovan stopped my hand as I brought the glass up to my lips.

  “Stop taking drinks from people you don’t know!” he said harshly.

  I turned back around and glared at him like he was crazy.

  “Who you think you talkin’ to?” I snarled. “You better step off!”

  I was about to shove him out of my way, when I noticed who it was that had given me the drink.

  It was Misty, standing just a few feet away. She was all smiles.

  I began cheesing instinctively, delighted to see my girl up in the house.

  “Miss Divine, Miss Divine!” I sang, dancing over to her and throwing my arms around her neck.

  “Hey, baby!” she grinned. “Enjoying the ’pipple?”

  “The ’pipple’s got it goin’ on, girl!”

  We walked away, leaving ol’ tired behind Donovan standing right there in the middle of the dance floor like the fool that he was.

  “How long you been here?” I asked, sipping on my drink.

  “’Bout ten minutes,” she said. “We were upstairs for a few, then came down here ‘cause I had a feeling you’d be out there shaking your azzz.”

  “You know me so well,” I slurred, beginning to feel some serious effects from my alcohol binge.

  The deejay dropped the first few beats of DMX’s “Get At Me Dogs.” I grabbed Miss Divine by the arm and doubled back out onto the floor.

  “Girl!” I squealed. “C’mon! That’s my jam!”

  “Okay!” she said excitedly. “Just let me find Rick.”

  As she spoke, I scanned the dance floor, looking for Donovan. I saw Tamara walk up to him, grab him by the waist, and pull him toward her. He glanced my way, looking seriously uncomfortable.

  Like I was gon’ be mad. Like I actually cared. Tamara was welcome to him and his entire collection of Morris Day memorabilia.

  One less Stacy Adams–wearin’ monkey on my back.

  I turned my attention back to Misty, who was intently scanning the room for her man.

  I moved my body to the music, still sipping on ’pipple. A perfectly good song was being wasted away.

  “Ooh!” she shrieked. “There he is, over there in the corner!”

  She pointed, waving her hand high, trying to catch his attention.

  I glanced in that direction and spotted him, standing over there, looking all hip and cool.

  Then I noticed what was standing to the right of him, and my eyes nearly popped.

  Beside Rick was this fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine mofo. Lookin’ hella-good, in some black jeans, a black jacket, and a black T-shirt.

  Any other time, I would have been easing my way over there, tryna get wit’ a brother like that.

  But this particular brother posed a serious problem.

  As I stood there, staring at him, my body did a slow burn.

  Rage was steeping in me with a deep, dark simmer.

  I knew this guy. We’d only met once, but it had been enough to wreck shit up for me.

  It was Rick’s best friend, Dandre Hilliard.

  The one who blew my cover at Burch by announcing that I used to be an exotic dancer. He was the reason I lost my job there. Or, at least, was the catalyst that set things in motion.

  I had personally, privately sworn to myself that I’d get even with him for what he did to me if I ever saw him again.

  And now, here he was at my party, all up in Nell’s, looking like a hot fudge sundae, smiling at me like what happened at Burch Financial had just been a figment of my decruited (the new term for firing) imagination.

  From across the room, I saw him give me a sexy look and a wink.

  I was so mad, I could have spit fire.

  “Okay girl, now. Don’t freak out…”

  “What the hell is he doing here?” I asked Misty through gritted teeth.

  She moved closer to me, trying to explain.

  “You know, Reesy,” she began, “I’ve really gotten to know Dandre much better over the past few months.”

  “Oh yeah?” I mumbled, still moving my body to DMX. “And? Now you can confirm that he’s a bona fide ass?”

  “No, Reesy!” Misty exclaimed, putting her hand on my arm. “As a matter of fact, he’s a really nice guy! He’s the type of guy that will do anything for you, and he’ll give you his last. He and Rick grew up together, just like you and I did. Now that I know him, I realize he didn’t do what he did to you on purpose.”

  “Oh really?” I remarked dryly, draining the last of the champagne from my glass. “Then why’d he do it?”

  “He just didn’t know any better,” she replied. “He had no idea of all the trouble he stirred up at the office that day. Dandre would have never done that on purpose. He felt awful when he found out that you lost your job!”

  I fell out laughing. I laughed so hard, Misty started laughing, too.

  “I didn’t lose my job,” I stated flatly. “I quit, remember?”

  “Yeah, girl. I know you quit. But he still felt bad about you having to go.”

  “You realize how ridiculous you sound, right?” I shouted over the music. “That’s a grown-ass man over there.”

  I pointed Dandre’s way.

  “How you gon’ tell me that grown man ain’t got sense enough to know that you don’t just come up in a corporate office and drop people’s personal business like it’s a dime on the street?”

  I was laughing, but it was more of a drunken laugh. Inside, I was quite perturbed.

  Misty laughed on.

  “Real
ly, Reesy,” she giggled. “Dandre just doesn’t know any different. He’s never worked in a structured environment, so he doesn’t really know the rules that apply.”

  “I’m laughing, Misty,” I smirked, “but this shit ain’t funny. That was my fucking life he was playing with that day.”

  Ol’ girl sobered up quick. Her laughter stopped on a dime. A hot minute of silence hung between us before she ventured to speak again.

  “I know,” she sighed at last, her hand resting on my arm. “Seriously though, Dandre’s not used to the working world. He makes his own rules, so he’s kind of oblivious to the fact that the rest of us don’t have that luxury.”

  “What do you mean?” I snapped. “Does he work out of his home or something? Besides, what’s structure and rules have to do with anything? We’re talking plain ol’ common sense!!”

  “Well, actually,” Misty countered, “common sense is relative. Dandre, in a way, has kind of lived in a bubble his whole life.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked again.

  Misty hesitated a second, then replied, “He’s never worked at all.”

  I stared at her with disbelief.

  She stared back at me, her eyes wide with confirmation.

  “Get outta here, girl!!” I said finally, waving my hand dismissively. “Everybody’s worked at one time or another. Even drug dealers are considered employed.”

  “Not Dandre,” Misty countered. “He’s a classic rich kid. I used to think you were, but you and he are nothing alike in that regard.”

  I noticed Rick and Dandre advancing our way. Misty followed my gaze and glanced in their direction. She shot Rick a quick look and made a funny waving gesture with her hand that she thought I didn’t catch.

  I did.

  Rick and Dandre hung back for a minute.

  “Dandre’s dad’s a gynecologist,” Misty said. “He teaches at Howard Medical School and supposedly has this very lucrative practice.”

  “The son of a gyne, huh?” I snickered. “Figures. Explains why he used to be all up in my coochie at the Magic City.”

  “Yeah,” she said with a nod, totally missing my sarcasm. “Dandre’s mom died when he was a baby, so his dad just spoiled him, and pays for everything. Dandre went to college just for the fun of it. He never had any intentions of pursuing any real career.”

  The guys were almost near us.

  “How old is he? He’s kinda big to be a daddy’s boy.”