Flip Side of the Game

by Tu-Shonda L. Whitaker

  “At first, I saw a couple of guys who I thought may have been Eugene, however, as I got closer, they either walked away or stood back and looked at my ass. I knew that Eugene and I agreed on seven-thirty, and he assured me that he was a stickler for promptness. But it was five minutes after eight and no Eugene. He said that he drove a dark green Windstar, but the only Windstar that I saw was parked in a handicap parking space. After about five minutes of standing around and looking for Eugene, I heard someone calling my name: Angela, Angela Adams. It’s me, Eugene.

  “Well, divas, when I turned around and looked, Eugene was about three and a half feet from the ground! My Lord! Truthfully, his height didn’t bother me as much as the patch over his right eye, which he felt a need to lift up to show me how the eye underneath wandered and caused him to see me going round and round. Which, by the way, he thought was funny.

  “During dinner, Eugene seemed to be quite intelligent, and if I could have gotten over the fact that he required a booster seat and the patch over his eye, he wouldn’t have been half bad. Once dinner was over and the bill came, Eugene explained that his patch caused him to see only half of the menu’s prices, and that he wasn’t going to pay sixty dollars for anybody to eat! And to add insult to injury, he told me that had he known I would be so expensive and not have any consideration for the afflicted, that he would have left my lonely-ass home.

  “Bastard! I left his half-seeing ass there! I started to yank his booster seat from under him, but instead, I jumped in my car and headed home. And since that time, with the exception of the li’l boy at the ice cream parlor and the li’l security guard, I’ve been sitting on my custom designed leather sofa, in the comfort of my Afrocentric living room, adding to my collection of Annie Lee figurines and waiting for Santa Claus to drop Prince Charming off at my house.”

  “Damn girl,” Lee said, trying to stop herself from laughing. “Tell us about the eye going round and round again.”

  I cracked up! As I wiped the tears out of my eyes from laughing so hard, my cell phone rang. Shannon, Angie, and Lee stopped their conversation and were dead in my mouth.

  “Hi Taj,” I said, answering the phone.

  “Can you skate, Vera?”

  I couldn’t believe he asked me if I could skate. Hell, all ghetto kids can skate. Even if you only had one skate and learned to skate by holding onto the back of a bike, skating was as innate as survival, and here I had Mr. Fine-ass Yuppie calling me and asking me if I can skate!

  “The question is, can you skate?” I asked him.

  “Oh, you’re challenging my skills?”

  “Yo’ skills? What skills? The ones from the hospital?”

  “Hold up. You think I was born and raised in the hospital. My first word wasn’t doctor.”

  “Yeah, right. What was it, nurse?” I said, and then mouthing to Angie, Lee, and Shannon to get out of my mouth!

  “Understand this, I might not look like the hood,” Taj said, “but I’m certainly from the hood. And though you may think differently, you weren’t the only one eating choke sandwiches and government cheese. So, please, just name a time and place, throw your skates on, and let’s get it goin’!”

  “The hood, please,” I said. “I’m not talking about a bad street in a nice neighborhood. I’m talking about niggas just runnin’ the place. About the bar on the corner, the hustler on the move, and the old lady down the street whippin’ ass! I’m talking about ghettofied love, baby. That’s the hood.”

  “Sweetheart,” he said, trying to talk over the back and forth paging of the hospital intercom, “you ain’t said nothin’ but a word. Brick City, baby! Represent! Brick City!”

  Now, I just about died laughing when he said that. “You better quiet that down before the rest of the doctors start hiding their shit, thinking they about to get jacked up in there! You need your job, baby. Don’t scare the white people.”

  “All right. All right. I lost a little control for a moment,” he said, sounding as if he was straightening up his pointed polo collar, and now sounding more astute than the episode he just had. “You know what they say, you can take the man out the ghetto, but you can’t take the ghetto out the man.”

  “Or the doctor, in your case. Meet me at seven at the skating rink uptown.”

  I must have had the word cheese written across my face for the remainder of the meeting, because Shannon kept telling me to close my mouth. Taj had just cracked me the hell up. Imagine a thugged-out yuppie skating. That shit is classic!

  After I left Shannon’s, I hurried home to shower and change, then I left back out so that I could meet Taj. I had on my tight leather shorts and the matching top. I had my Christian Dior sports bag, and I was sharp as shit when I arrived at the skating rink.

  When I pulled up, Taj was standing outside waiting for me. He walked over, kissed me on the lips, and said, “Damn, girl, why in the hell you wanna do this to a brotha?”

  “What?”

  He took my hand and placed it on his dick. It was so hard that I could almost feel the veins bulging out.

  I started to smile, and I looked at him and said, “It’s all good. It lets me know that a sista is handling her business.”

  “But, damn, why do have to handle it right here?” He pulled me against his chest and said, “Let me get a quickie.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “For real. R.Kelly wrote ‘Sex in My Jeep’ for a reason.”

  I mushed him playfully on the side of his head and said, “I’ll lay it down for you later. Now stop being fresh. The kids standing across the street,” I said, pointing, “are watching you feel all over my ass.”

  He stepped back, looked me up and down, and said, “The skating rink is that way.”

  I smiled, and the sweet scent of his body lingered in my nose. His gear was tight; I must admit. He had on a Knicks throwback jersey, baggy carpenter jeans, and blue Tims.

  “I see you feeling to go back to your roots, Mr. Brick City,” I said. “’Cause you thugged-out as hell!”

  He smiled. “This little routine you have going on here is adorable, but put your skates on and let’s see what you can do.”

  “Oh, you got jokes? Well, let me see if your feet work as well as your mouth does!”

  The music in this place was slammin’! I hadn’t heard “One Night Love Affair” and “Ten Percent” since I was twenty-three and hanging out in the Peppermint Lounge in Jersey. So, when “Follow Me” came on, I had to do my thing on the floor! And honey, while the disco ball was twirling around and all the people were gettin’ down, you couldn’t tell whether I was Stella, Vera, or a Don Cornelius disco diva. All right!

  “Oh, I see you have some skills!” Taj said, standing back and admiring my groove. “Well, Miz Thang, watch this,” he said as the music changed from “Follow Me” to The Jungle Brothers’ “Girl, I’ll House You.”

  Don’t you know that this so-’n-so did a split with them baggy-ass pants on, and then pulled himself up and took off with the roller-skating version of the moonwalk.

  Oh, hell no. I know he doesn’t think that he can outdo me!

  Check this out, I broke out with a Michael Jackson kick and a nasty-girl snake. The next thing I heard, the DJ had changed from the Jungle Brothers to the Cha-Cha Slide, and everybody and their mama rushed to do the roller skating version of the Charlie Brown! All right now!

  Then there was the kickoff of all roller skating get downs, the roller skating version of the stepper’s dance! This was straight on and poppin’. So, when the young lady rolled up to me, tapped me on the shoulder, and said, “May I speak to you for a moment?” I ain’t think shit of it.

  Taj didn’t even notice. He said he had to go to the bathroom, and for me to hold that step because he would be right back.

  “May I help you?” I asked, breathing heavy, but smiling at the same time.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “Excuse me?” Now I was pretty much taken aback. I figured at most this
heifer was admiring my gear and wanted to know where I got the Donna Karan leather shorts from.

  “Look, I’ma get right to the point,” she said with a straight face to let me know there was no bullshit between us. “That guy you were just dancing with is my man.”

  “What? Taj?”

  “Yes, Taj. I understand that he’s cool and all, and him being a doctor will attract a lot of groupies, but from one sista to the next, respect my place and step off!” Then she topped it off with a Barbie-doll smile.

  Well, you know ole girl, so as you can imagine, I was ’bout to read her, and right at the point where I went to tell the bitch about how, if he was her man, he sure could eat a good pussy, I changed my mind.

  “You know what, sista? I’ma let you get that for the moment, because I respect your forwardness. But check this, when Taj comes back, we will speak to him together.” Then I hit her ass right back with her fake-ass Barbie smile. “By the way, what’s your name?”

  “Ja . . . mil . . . lah,” she said, nice and slow with an exuberant amount of confidence.

  Taj came back, and he still didn’t notice Jamillah standing next to me. He took me by both my arms and pulled me close. “You look good as hell, girl,” he said playfully. “What’s your name, and do you have a man?”

  “My name,” I said, backing away from his embrace, “is Vera, but her name is Ja . . . mil . . . lah. And do I have a man? Well, the one I thought I had, she said is hers.”

  He was shocked as hell, but then the doctor, non-cha-lant, non-emotional shit kicked in and he said, “How are you, Jamillah?”

  “How am I? How am I?” she asked with a chuckle of disbelief. “I was quite well until I got here,” she responded.

  “Really? Would you like to talk about it?”

  “What the fuck is going on here?” Jamillah said with her neck in full motion. “Taj, why are you playing games? You think this shit is funny?”

  “What’s funny?”

  “Taj, it was my understanding that you were my man, so what are you doing out with someone else? Don’t you feel the slightest bit busted?”

  “I feel a little odd and awkward, because I would have never set up a meeting like this, but for you to say that I’m your man is way off course.”

  “Off course!” the bitch shouted.

  Now, usually I woulda jumped in, but not this time. This nigga had to wear this one, ’cause had I gotten into it, I woulda punched the bitch in her face first and talked later.

  “Whose house were you at the other night?” Jamillah asked.

  “Yours.”

  My heart cracked when he said that, but I played it cool and stood there.

  “Well, then,” she said, more to me than to him.

  “But what does that mean?” Taj asked

  “Excuse you?”

  “Listen, let’s get this straight now. There’s no you and I. There was no you and I the other night, tonight, or tomorrow, for that matter. You and I haven’t slept together. You’re good people, a nice conversation, but that’s it. I’m embarrassed that you’re even acting like this. So, check it. You’re not my lady, my girlfriend, or anything else that involves commitment, so stop telling people that!”

  Well, that did it for me! Now I was pissed the fuck off! “People? People? Oh, hell no, mu’fucker. My name is Vera,” I said, looking dead in ole boy’s grill. “Furthermore,” I said, feeling like I was going to break, “she doesn’t owe me any explanations.”

  “Look, boo,” I turned to her and said. “If this is your man, then place a red bow on top of his head, because you can have him! I’m outta here!”

  “Get your ass back here!” Taj demanded, with his left jaw thumpin’. He then grabbed me tight by my forearm. “Stand still! I’m tired of you running. You’re not going anywhere! You will listen to what I have to say, and when you leave out that door, it’ll be the same way you came in here. With me!”

  I do believe that if Jamillah could’ve caught me sleeping and gut-punched my ass, the ho would’ve tried it. She stood there speechless, while Taj totally ignored her, trying to get me to stand next to him.

  “So, that’s how it is, Taj?” Jamillah said, breaking her silence.

  “That’s how it’s been!”

  “Fuck you!” she screamed, roller skating off. “And fuck you too, bitch!”

  “And you,” Taj said, turning toward me, “don’t you ever let anyone come up in yo’ face and question your position with me! You supposed to be so tough, but you let this chick punk you into backing me into a corner, then you try and leave me standing here with her. What kind of weak-ass game is that? I thought you had yo’ shit covered!

  “You got issues, you know that? You made these rules, and now you can’t live by them. Let me tell you something. You see this game shit you got going on over here, I got it down pat, and I told you once before, you cannot out hustle me, so stop trying! And when you lay down laws and you say shit like ‘don’t hate the player, hate the game,’ you have to be able to work that shit! Don’t be scared! What, you can’t hang? Isn’t this what you wanted? The flip side of the game?”

  After we left the roller skating rink, Taj and I were silent for most of the night, other than to make love, which I guess was a conversation in and of itself. I mean, really, what was I going to say? Why did I let myself fall in love with you? This shit was suddenly beyond my control, and for the first time in a long time, Vera Wright-Turner was speechless. All I could do was watch this man and try not to think about Rowanda, about Grandma, or about Lincoln Street. All I wanted on my mind was me and my man. And for the moment, where you can take your index finger and go pop, was about the length of time I was able to make this accomplishment.

  For most of my life, Aunt Cookie would never let me forget who my mother was, which was why she didn’t allow me to call her Mommy. Even when she would refer to me as her daughter, and she knew that I loved her like a mother, she would always say, “I don’t want you to forget Rowanda. You’re with me because she loved you.”

  Then she would say, “Your mother is as much a part of you as you are a part of you.”

  I would always cry and feel like I was never good enough for anybody to be my mother, and then, much like I am now, I would think about Lincoln Street and about the time when Grandma’s man held me down, the same man that was there when she died.

  He came in the bedroom, walked over to me, twirled my braids, and told me how pretty I looked with my “fat ass” and “chubby li’l pussy.” Nobody said a word.

  “You gonna have to wear this one,” he said. “Nobody told you to be coming in here looking at me like that.”

  “But I ain’t seen you today. I been in here looking out the window.”

  “You been in the other room looking at me,” he said. “Lay down or I’ll kill ya.”

  Shortly after that, Rowanda tried to kill Grandma’s man. When Rowanda came home from jail, I saw her sitting on the bench in the middle of the courtyard.

  “Where you been, Rowanda?” I yelled, while doing a summersault across the bench that sat in front of Building 251A.

  “I been gone,” she said.

  “Gone where?”

  “To jail, baby.”

  “I ain’t no baby.”

  “You my baby,” she insisted.

  “Yo’ baby? I ain’t got no mama. You ain’t my mama. You’se a crackhead.”

  Before I could shake my thoughts about being raped and come back to the present, Taj rolled on top of me and started running his hands between my thighs and sucking on my breast. I tensed up. He had started kissing down the middle of my stomach and making his way to my thighs when he realized that my body was stiff.

  He lifted his head up, rolled over, and said, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing,” I said with a slight tremble. “Why did you stop?”

  “Because you wanted me to.”

  “I never said that,” I said, looking away from him.

  “Look at m
e,” he said. “I’m talking to you. Now, tell me the truth.”

  “Nothing is wrong, Taj!” I snapped.

  “Vera, usually when I suck on your breast, kiss you on your stomach, and get ready to go down and taste you, your body melts. I know your body better than I know my own. Now, tell me what you were thinking, and don’t lie. You were thinking about when you were a little girl weren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I said, looking away.

  “Look at me. I’m right here.”

  I looked at him, and tears started to build in my eyes. “When I was a little girl,” I said, “my grandmother’s man raped me, the same one that was there when she died. The same man that splashed in the puddle of her blood and left his footprint. I bled for days after he raped me, and when Rowanda came home, she noticed that I had blood running down my legs. She took me to the hospital, and they told her that I had been raped.”

  Taj started biting his bottom lip, and his eyes became glassy. “What did Rowanda do?” he asked.

  “She carried me home from the hospital, placed me in the bed, and went in the kitchen with Grandma and her man. She grabbed a knife and stabbed him twenty times. The only thing that stopped her was when Grandma beat her in the head. After that, Grandma called the police, and Rowanda was arrested. She spent eighteen months in prison.” My shoulders started to shake. I couldn’t hold the tears in any longer. I started to cry.

  “It’s over, baby,” Taj said, kissing my tears. “You’re mine now.”

  Taj held me in between his arms, and I felt safe lying against his chest. “Vera, I swear to God,” he said, “if I could find that motherfucka, I would kill him!”

  “Shh,” I said. “Don’t say that.” I could feel Taj tighten his embrace as I lay my head on his chest and I fell asleep.

  When the phone rang, I jumped. I looked up at Taj, and I could see he had been watching me while I was asleep. He kissed me on my forehead and pressed the speaker button on the phone. “Hello,” he said.