by Curtis Bunn
“I don’t even want her name to come out of your mouth,” Felicia said. “What is it, because I’m fat, walking around with your baby, that you’re looking to other women? Of all people . . . not her. You know how I feel about her.”
“If you saw, then you saw her come over to me,” Brandon said.
“And I saw you smiling and laughing with her,” Felicia said. “You haven’t even been doing that with me. And from what I saw, it looked like you were flirting with her. I know you, Brandon Barksdale. I know you from your body language, and what I saw was a man enjoying the attention of a woman he knows I detest.”
“Why is that?” Brandon asked. “I don’t understand. You never told me why there’s such animosity.”
“Does it matter?” Felicia said. “Does it really matter? Bottom line, you knew and you didn’t care.”
Brandon kept his composure. He felt like people were always looking at him, so he refused to be pulled into a blatant argument with her right there at the tailgate.
“Felicia, I love you,” he said, holding her shoulders while looking into her eyes. “You are my wife. I don’t care how it looked—we were just having a conversation. You can’t be carrying our child and getting upset about any little thing. That doesn’t help the baby.”
He knew what cards to draw to get Felicia to throw in her hand. Talking about the health of the baby was it. Felicia immediately calmed down. “Well, I was going to stay home tonight, but I’m going to the Best of Friends party,” she said.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“You don’t want me to be there with you?” she asked.
“Of course, I do. As long as you’re up to it, that’s great.”
“Well, if I wasn’t up to it I am now.”
Tranise was up for whatever might come her way with Felicia and Brandon. That encounter with her arch-nemesis had sent her into a fury. She was not planning on sleeping with Brandon, but that underexposed devilish part of her psyche had emerged. “I’m gonna make her so mad, she will have that baby right there on the damned dance floor,” she told Mary and Charlene.
“It’s not time for that baby to come, so maybe you shouldn’t wish for that,” Charlene said. “The baby could die. She could die.”
“Well,” Tranise said, “I would never wish harm on a baby. But that bitch. . . .
“Tranise,” Mary said.
“Well, okay, I’m sorry. I don’t want her to die,” Tranise said. “How about close to death?”
“That’s not good,” Charlene said. “You’re putting bad karma out there. You get back what you put out.”
“I don’t believe that,” Mary said. “I mean, she shouldn’t want anyone to die. But even if she really did, that doesn’t mean she’s going to die.”
“She is going to die,” Charlene said.
“Yeah, but not because she wished death on someone else,” Mary countered.
“You don’t know that,” Charlene argued. “That bad karma could come right back and she could die right on the spot.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Tranise finally interrupted. “Why you two heffas talking about my inevitable death? Really? Seriously? Can we talk about something else. Damn.”
They made it to the restaurant in the lobby of the Airport Hilton, and enjoyed a nice dinner before resting for the weekend’s closing event. There was a Chuck Brown concert, but, while they appreciated “go-go” music, they were not in love with it like most everyone from Washington, D.C. The Sweatbox was unanimously ruled out. There were other parties, including one hosted by the Ques in downtown Norfolk. But the buzz about the Best of Friends party was too loud to ignore.
“What are you going to wear?” Mary asked her friends.
“I actually went to MacArthur Mall before I went over to campus yesterday and found something so nice at Nordstrom,” Tranise said. “It’s a little black dress—simple but elegant. And sexy. It’s fitting all my new curves.”
“Showoff,” Charlene said.
“I have a nice dress, too,” Mary said. “I started to bring a black dress, but I’m glad I didn’t. We’d be looking like we dressed together.”
“Remember when we used to do that, though?” Charlene said. “I remember going to The Broadway for some party and we all had on jeans tucked in our boots with polka dot shirts.”
“With different color polka dots,” Mary said.
“We were cute,” Tranise recalled. “Turned it out. And tonight I’m going to turn Brandon out. And turn Felicia into a basket case.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A NIGHT NOT REMEMBERED
Jesse, Don and Venita
Neither Jesse nor Don enjoyed the tailgate or the game as much as they should have. Jesse was working on a hang-over that took him until after the game to shake. And Don was missing his wallet, so drunk that he did not remember what he did with it.
“What the fuck happened to the car?” Venita said that morning when they went to the hotel parking lot to go to the tailgate.
“Oh, shit,” Jesse said. “Don. What the fuck?”
“Man, it was a bad night. Well, it was a good night that turned bad,” Don said. “I don’t know what happened, man. I was driving along Interstate 264 and all of a sudden I felt the car vibrating. I woke up and we were running up against the median wall. Jesse, I’m sorry, man.”
His 2009 BMW 745i was damaged all the way up the right side, as if someone had taken a giant piece of sandpaper and wiped it down. Another kind of man would have been beside himself. Jesse viewed cars as necessary to get around. Nothing more. He was more concerned that he did not even realized what had happened.
“How in the hell could I sleep through that?” he asked. “Are you telling me I didn’t even wake up?”
“You don’t remember?” Don said. “Ah, man, you were really ripped. I woke up and was scared as hell. I stopped the car and we both got out and looked at the damage. You said, ‘Damn. You all right, D?’ I apologized. You turned away from me and threw up. I got panicked because if a trooper had seen us and stopped, our homecoming would be over. Our asses would be in jail.”
“Jesse, look at your car,” Venita said.
“I can’t be worried about that,” he said. “It’s messed up, but that’s why we get insurance. As long as we survived it, I’m good. We can still drive it and can still get home . . . But it’s scary that I don’t remember any of that shit. Nothing. Last I remember I was grinding on Collette on the dance floor. And—“
“Collette, who slept with everybody at Norfolk State when we were there Collette’?” Venita asked. “You were grinding on her?”
“Damn right, I was,” Jesse said. “She felt good—I remember that. And she looked great. I can’t hold against her what she did in college. I mean, she was out there, no doubt about that. It would be hard for me to marry her knowing what she was like. But she doesn’t have the Plague. She and I were always close. I’m still her friend.”
“Well, can the passenger door open?” Venita said. “Matter of fact, I’m not sure I can even be seen in this car.”
“Well, lay down in the back seat then,” Jesse said. “We’re rolling.”
“I guess I can’t even ask if the party was good or not; you bums can’t even remember what happened,” Venita said. “And by the way, that’s pathetic.”
“Was it pathetic when I saw you at the CIAA Tournament walking the streets of downtown Charlotte with your shoes in your hand and eyes all gazed over, draped over some dude who was feeling you up the whole time?” Jesse asked. “What was that? At least no one saw us messed up. You were on display for anyone on that street.”
“That night was an exception for me, not the rule,” she said. “I was messing with my girl who had some guy buying us shots of Goldschlager. That shit had me twisted up. I can’t even try to fade that. I was done. Never again.”
“Can we just go?” Jesse said. “I don’t feel so great right now. If I threw up last night, I should feel better than I d
o now.”
“Venita, you have to drive,” Don said. “Jesse can’t drive in this silly-ass state and I shouldn’t be behind the wheel. But I guess we have to give you the whole rundown of what happened last night.”
“There was more? Ah, shit,” Jesse said. “What the hell else could have happened?”
“Do you remember going to breakfast with these two women at IHOP?” Don said.
“Come on, man. You lying now,” Jesse insisted.
Don did not flinch. He went into his pocket and pulled out a receipt from their meal.
“You paid for everybody’s food,” he said. “I kept the receipt just in case you hit me with exactly what you’re doing now.”
Jesse reviewed the credit card receipt. “I left the waitress a twenty-five-dollar tip? What the hell, Don? Why didn’t you stop me?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I did try to get you under control, but—Venita, you know how he can get,” Don said. “I said, ‘That’s way too much.’ You said, ‘My daddy ain’t here and neither is my momma. I ain’t got no wife to make me miserable. So I can do whatever I want.’ It would have been crazy for me to try to stop you. You were in top form—aggressive, belligerent, funny, wild.”
“So who were these two honeys?” Jesse wanted to know.
“We met them at the end of the party,” Don said. “You walked Collette to her car—and y’all kissed, too. A tongue kiss.”
“What? She musta been drunk, too,” Venita said, laughing.
“I’m not even going to address you,” Jesse said. “I guess we’re to believe you stayed in your room on a Friday night at home-coming? By yourself?”
“I will tell you what I did, but let’s finish hearing about this night that you don’t even remember.”
Throughout their day of eating, taking pictures, greeting old friends and watching the game, Don gave them snippets of a mostly forgotten night for Jesse.
“Okay, see that girl right there,” Don said, using his eyes to point out the woman instead of pointing at her. “Watch what happens when she sees Jesse.”
“Come on, man, tell me what I did so I know how to react,” Jesse pleaded.
“It won’t be as much fun if I tell you,” Don said.
“Well, tell me,” Venita said.
Don put his arm around her and whispered into Venita’s ear. When he was finished, she stepped away from him. “Don, you are lying.”
“I wish I was lying,” he said.
“You,” Venita said, pointing at Jesse, “are crazy.”
“That’s messed up that you won’t tell me, Don,” Jesse said. “But that’s all right. I got something for your ass.”
“What?” Don said.
Jesse did not bother to answer; the young lady noticed him and came over. She was totally unfamiliar to Jesse, although she was tall and pretty.
“I’m glad to see you today,” she said. Jesse smiled and glanced over at Don.
“Really? That’s good to hear,” Jesse said.
“I’m glad because I was sure you might die of alcohol poisoning,” she added, and Don and Venita burst into laughter. Jesse had a look of indifference on his face.
Don introduced her to Venita. “I believe you said your name is Rochelle, right?”
“Good memory,” she said. “You were done and this guy right here . . . Jesse, you’re a piece of work.”
Jesse did not know how to take it because he didn’t know what the hell he did. Finally, he let it be known he was out of the loop.
“I hope I didn’t offend you,” he said. “I apparently had too much to drink. But since there was no Breathalyzer that wouldn’t stand up in court.”
“You actually offended the Holiday Inn ballroom more than you offended me,” Rochelle said.
“Huh?” Jesse was puzzled.
“Are you going to tell him, because I’m not,” Rochelle said. “Call me later, after you find out. I put my number in your phone. Do you remember that?”
Jesse lied. “Yes, I do,” he said. “I will definitely call you.”
Rochelle smiled, said her goodbyes and walked away, and Jesse stood there admiring her.
“Whatever I did, it must not have been that bad because I think she’s feeling me,” he said. “But what the hell did I do?”
“Should I tell him, Venita?” Don asked.
She nodded her head.
“Okay, well, you met her in the lobby after Collette left,” Don began. “She was walking by and you said, ‘I remember you from school.’ She said, ‘No you don’t.’ You said, ‘OK, you’re right. But I should have.’ And a conversation started from there. You all danced. You bought her a couple drinks. Then one of her friends came up from nowhere. Then all four of us were dancing, having a great time.
“You and Rochelle sat down way in the back to the side of the dance floor. The girl I was dancing with went to the bathroom or someplace and you and I went to the bar. You said, ‘I like this girl. She’s a lawyer, too.’ I bought us more drinks, and you went back in there with her. Well, about fifteen minutes later, your girl finds me in the lobby. ‘You need to go check on your boy.’ I looked up and you were staggering to the bathroom.
“I asked her what was wrong. She said, ‘We were talking at the table. I knew he had a good buzz—it showed up in his eyes. But he was still coherent, so I didn’t think much of it. Then all of a sudden, in mid-sentence, he puts up one finger to mean ‘just a minute,’ turns away from me and throws up right there on the floor. I was so shocked I couldn’t move. Then he reached on the table and knocked over his drink to get the napkin under it and wiped his mouth. And believe it or not, he turned around and looked at me and continued the conversation as if nothing had happened.’
“I laughed so hard everyone in the lobby turned and looked at me. I couldn’t believe it.”
“Oh, my God,” Jesse said. “The sad part is that I actually remember some of that. Didn’t you come and get me out of the bathroom?”
“Yeah,” Don said. “I let you stay in there for about ten minutes to get yourself together. Finally, Rochelle said, ‘You might want to go check on him.’ So, I go there expecting to see you washing your mouth out. Yo ass was in the last stall, sitting on the toilet, knocked out, face pressed all up against the wall.”
Venita and Don laughed so hard. Jesse shook his head.
“Oh, shit,” Jesse said. “So I threw up twice in one night?”
“Well, yes, you did because after you got up, you seemed to be together,” Don explained. “You put some water on your face. I gave you some eye drops. You downed about ten mints. We got back out there, Rochelle and her friend—I can’t remember her name—were standing there waiting.
“You held it together. You were walking straight, talking straight. You said you were hungry. Rochelle’s friend said she was hungry, too, so we went to IHOP on Military Highway. The place was packed. And you put on a show. You were funny and obnoxious and silly and engaging. And Rochelle seemed to eat it up.
“And you paid for the meal because I reached for my wallet and it wasn’t there. I called the hotel and no one turned it in. So I have some issues.”
“Did you cancel your cards?” Venita said.
“Forget about his wallet for a minute,” Jesse said. “That woman, Rochelle is bad. I’ve got to get with her.”
“You know how much drama losing your wallet costs you?” Venita said. “Listen, you’d better cancel your cards. My aunt lost her wallet and in two hours she had charges on her card from London, Miami and New York. They ran up about twelve-hundred dollars’ worth of stuff. She got her money back, eventually. But who wants to go through that hassle?”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Don said. “I checked my accounts online and there was no activity. But that doesn’t mean nothing will happen.”
Jesse smiled. “What you grinning about?” Venita asked.
“Before you make those calls, let me tell you about this fool,” he said. “I might have been messed up, but Don
was, too. Do you remember taking your drink on the dance floor and spilling it all over this woman to your right? She was with her husband and homeboy was not happy. It was all on the front of her dress, all up in her cleavage.”
“Oh, yeah, damn, I do remember that,” Don said. “That was messed up. I think her husband was trying to fight me.”
“He was,” Jesse said. “But he quickly realized he would have gotten double-teamed, like we did those guys that time from ODU. Remember that?”
“I don’t remember that,” Venita said.
“We went to a party over there one night,” Don said. “I think it was a Delta party. Yep, because Donna Scott invited me. And you were invited by Tawana Turner. She wasn’t a Delta, but she went to Old Dominion. Anyway, some chick said I felt her on her ass when she walked by.”
“You did feel her on her ass, Don,” Jesse said.
“Yeah, but she couldn’t have know it was me,” Don said. “There were four other guys right there.”
“Anyway,” Jesse continued. “So Don denies it and we go on and stay for another hour or so. It was winter and I forgot that I had put my coat on the back of a chair. Don went to get the car and said he’d meet me in the front of the building. On his way, the chick has her boyfriend confront Don just before he gets to the car. I can see this as I’m coming behind them, so I start running to catch up. The guy gets aggressive and Don pushes him away from him—right into my arms. I threw him on the ground and, well, it wasn’t good for him after that. His girl was screaming as we beat and kicked his ass.”
“Needless to say,” Don added, “that was our last party at ODU.”
“So you are a lawyer and you’re an entrepreneur and all these years later, you were going to gang up on a guy last night? After you spilled a drink on his wife?” Venita said. “Seems to me you all would be overly apologetic.”
“I was,” Don said, “but he wasn’t hearing it. He wanted to show off for his wife or something.”
“So I just eased over and said, ‘Don, you cool?’ But I was staring at the husband,” Jesse said. “That ended the drama.”