“I’m hoarse.”
He grinned sheepishly, and said he would make her some tea. He knew he was trippin’, but he made it up to her every night. Behind her bedroom door he was her pet. He liked to listen to her bitch, even about things he’d done to her during the day.
He’d encourage her to get worked up than watch her flounce around and shake her finger, grinning. He’d offer an apology in a deep, sweet tone of voice, deliberately seducing her with big hazel eyes and long sweeps of curly black lashes. He knew she couldn’t resist him as a supplicant.
Other times they were perfectly silent. Fiona wouldn’t talk much if her throat was playing up, and she didn’t have to tell him when that was. He already knew her so he just watched to learn her new patterns. God knew he was able to anticipate her sexual needs almost without fail. And even if that wasn’t what she intended, he always managed to give her something she wanted more.
Fiona grinned when he told Cleo to go to hell with her diet bull shit. She kissed him when he told her pissy-looking cousin, “You got her skinny as a fuckin’ stick.” Then he’d take her out to dinner and for drinks and they’d inadvertently end up in the tabloids.
She’d actually gained three pounds since they began sleeping together.
“You tryna make me fall in love with you,” she told him once after they’d both climaxed. She rolled off him onto her back and turned to accuse, “Ain’t you?”
He just laughed, and she knew she was right. He knew sexually he was almost impossible for her to resist, and he was not above putting it in her face that he led her around by the tit, as he called it.
In retaliation she’d play games with him. These weren’t physical, Daney type games. These were mind games where they learned about each other via the worst, the filthiest revelations they could remember or conjure. It was a contest of sorts, a competitive kind of psychological warfare.
Maybe warfare was too harsh a word. More like love fare, ‘cause at the end they had sex. He’d tell her about some girl from his past…
“I went out with an Asian girl once. A model. I met her at some industry party one of my friends was throwing for Atlantic for some rapper I can’t remember the name of. She was gorgeous, poised and slinky in this silver dress dripping with sequins. Her legs looked like they started right underneath her tits.”
“Robin Lee,” Fiona said. “I remember her. She’s an action star in Asia now isn’t she?”
Natty nodded.
“Did you fuck her that night?”
“No,” he frowned at her flippancy. “I didn’t. We left the party and went out to eat. We had drinks, danced, and I took her to her hotel.”
“What was she doing in town?”
“I don’t remember.”
“I think she was dating that rapper you can’t remember the name of.”
“Are you gonna tell this story, or am I? We dated three times before we slept together.”
“You counted, huh? How was it?”
“I don’t remember,” he said thoughtfully. “Musta been okay, I kept doin’ it.”
“She had a fabulous figure.”
“Anyway,” he said. “I thought we were a couple after a few of months of her comin’ here and me goin’ to wherever she was.”
“I remember seeing pictures of you in Paris at some couture show during the height of the season.”
“Yeah. We had a lot of fun together. She fed me Asian food. I fed her soul food, when she ate,” he said, chuckling.
“Models gotta work,” Fiona smiled, understanding. She remembered starving in the name of perfection. It was a losing game and one more reason to love being a singer, though since she’d had Flora she didn’t eat much either.
“We went on trips together, she met my family. I met hers. Then I hear she’s stepping out on me with this Asian cat.”
“The director.”
“Right. I see ‘em photographed together at some premiere, and I’m like, what the fuck? She tells me she thinks it’s time. That she was gon’ be abroad working and sustaining a relationship is impossible under those conditions.”
“She thinks it’s time for what?”
“Right! She thinks it’s time we call it quits.”
“Just like that?”
He nodded.
“No warning?”
“None.”
“Damn.”
“Cold, right?”
Fiona made a face. “Icy.”
“So I’m like, were you cheatin’ on me? She says no. She hasn’t slept with him yet, but she might, and she doesn’t wanna hurt me so this is the best way she knows to handle it.”
“Must be that Asian stoicism in her comin’ out.”
“Right. But I wasn’t exactly heartbroken. She hadn’t been around in a few weeks. We were talkin’ on the phone more than anything else.”
“The press made it sound like you were fucked up.”
“That shit was annoying. And she played their ass too, and parlayed her way into a very profitable new career.”
“She embarrassed you.”
“She hurt my feelings.”
Fiona looked skeptical.
“I liked her. It wasn’t like fireworks or anything, but she treated me nice. Then all of a sudden she’s like, okay. That’s enough. Thanks for playing. Goodbye. That shit blew me.”
She saw it then, the hurt he’d carefully layered over with a quiet nonchalance. He won that round, she told him. He’d made her heart ache a bit. In retaliation for his sweetness she tried to shock him.
“I knew this guy once for five years. Met him when I was like 13. He was in the armed forces, total square. Didn’t smoke, but liked to drink. In great shape for his age. He was married, but he was stationed in another state and lived apart from his wife and kids.
“I went out with him when he’d come in town. Maybe once a year. Never fucked him. Only kissed him twice. He took me home to meet male members of his family a few times, and out to meet some of his buddies. I’d talk to him every now and then going or coming in an airport, you know.
“Then one day he decides it’s time for us to take our relationship to the next level. I’m 18, like, what fuckin’ relationship? He starts callin’ me every day, tellin’ me he got separated from his wife and going into these long detailed monologues about the divorce settlement, how it could go, etc. asking me do I want him in my life. Long story short, he comes into town, and we fuck. It’s great. We fuck the whole time he’s in town, and he’s the sweetest man alive.
“Then he goes home. We talk every single day. My birthday rolls around. I tell him the date. He asks for my address. My birthday comes. I don’t hear a word from him. No deliveries arrive. Next day I say, forget something?
“He says, I didn’t hear from you so I called the store and had ‘em hold your gift.”
She laughed, enjoying Natty’s uncomfortable shifting on his side of the bed.
“I say, ‘What?’ and my fuckin’ guts start to burn, right? ‘Cause I know he’s lying. So I say cool, whatever, and he launches into this whole wounded speech about how the situation is hurtful for him too, and I’m not the only one who’s been hurt, and blah blah blah. I’m like, who the fuck is this nigga talkin’ to?
Some balloons arrive. I call the florist shop they came from. Ask the lady, ‘Can you tell me if an order was placed yesterday and then held?’ she says, no, but let me give you the number of the place who can, 1-800-BALLOON. I call. I ask the guy, ‘Can you tell me if an order was placed yesterday and then held?’ He says under this name? I say yeah. He looks. Says, nope. Nothing. Then he asks me for my name. I give it to him. He looks again. Says, nope. That’s the only order in our system for your name or for that name and that credit card. I say thank you and hang up. I call this liar up and tell him I know you lied. I tell him what went down, and he says, ‘Are you serious?’ I’m like, you better fuckin’ believe it. You have a good life. Peace.’
“Well, he emails me and calls, and calls me
and emails. I ignore him. He keeps trying. I keep ignoring him. Finally I talk to him, say dude, stop. It’s not gonna happen. He tries again! I say, leave me alone. Period. He responds, you are right. Why am I chasing you when women are begging for me? Thanks for the good and the bad memories.” She looked at him and smiled. “Whatchu think about that?”
Natty shook his head. “All that because he didn’t want to send some flowers? He didn’t give a shit about you. He was probably the type to never take you out to dinner, right? He’d just show up at your house and say he was hungry.”
Fiona laughed, wishing he’d been around then to hip her dumb ass to the game.
“Either he didn’t want to be seen out with you – probably because you were so young –
he didn’t think much of you or he was just fuckin’ broke. Flowers are cheap,” he said bluntly.
Fiona laughed again. “That’s what I know! But that motherfucker kept bothering me, kept bothering me, kept bothering me. Like he couldn’t hear what I was sayin,’ or it didn’t matter ‘cause he didn’t give a fuck. The audacity! I was like, you think you just gon’ make me let you come back in my life so you can fuck over me some more? Why don’t I just lie down in the street with my skirt over my head and let every fuckin’ body who want some get a piece? It was blatant disrespect! What I was sayin’ didn’t mean shit. He still felt like he could get back in.
“This trick wasn’t even a catch! He had three brats, a wife, and he lived in another state. But I’m ’posed to just let him treat me like any ole’ bitch off the street. I coulda keeled over from the fuckin’ plague the next damn day because he lied and told me he didn’t have a cold when he did.”
“I’d never treat you like that.”
“Nobody’s gonna treat me like that,” Fiona laughed, a serious note threading her voice. “He got over on me. I admit it, but nowadays you only get one chance with me. Then I cut you loose. Nobody fucks over me, and that’s how it’s gon’ stay.”
He drew her into his arms.
“People think they’re supposed to treat you like shit and have you like it, come back for more,” she said after a while. “That shit baffles me. I can’t even look at black men right now,” she whispered sadly, thinking of Flora’s father and how he’d showed his ass after she was conceived. Everyone seemed to remind her of that behavior.
“You don’t see me as Black?”
“Of course! You know what I mean. It’s fucked up, but when I look at most brothers, all I see are problems. I see liars, whores and momma’s boys galore. I see limp dicks and stupid, childish, backward ass weak behavior. It’s scary. ‘Cause then I wonder, what the fuck’s wrong with me that I’m attracting all these morally corrupt, idiotic muthafuckas?”
“Nothing,” he said instantly. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just a beautiful girl in a world full of horny dicks. You think everybody plays it straight like you, and they don’t. And you’re wounded. It’s like the scent of blood to vultures. Besides, that’s just how you feel now. It’s not the truth, and you know it. There are too many good marriages around – my brothers and parents to name just a few – for you to be so down on brothers. This is not a case of all Black men ain’t shit. This is, ‘I picked an immature asshole, accidentally got pregnant, and he didn’t make the cut.’”
Fiona stared at Natty, turning over what he’d said. Then she laughed softly and snuggled into his arms. “You’re a smart cookie,” she teased after awhile, and let him steal her breath with a long, hot kiss. She rubbed his nose with hers, a habit she’d developed years ago. After a while she asked, “Do you believe we create our own reality?”
“Absolutely,” he said instantly. “Absolutely I do.”
“Then that means I threw away a great love deliberately,” she said quietly. “Maybe not consciously, but unconsciously.”
“Didn’t you?”
Her head jerked up to look at him.
“You know perfectly well Tino shouldn’t have been in your bed.” He’d heard the story first from Netty, then later from Fiona. “But you allowed him to do it. Whatever excuses you came up with to let his bad behavior slide, you knew what the consequences would be, and you did nothing to prevent it. That means you allowed it to happen. You may even have wanted it to happen.”
She opened her mouth to deny this seeming impossibility, but all that came out was, “Why?”
He shrugged and stroked her absently.
He was like Daney that way. Always touching her, as though he couldn’t help himself. She doubted he even realized that he was slowly squeezing her flesh. Testing it like.
“Maybe you don’t think you deserve that kind of love, so you destroyed it.”
Fiona stayed up thinking about what he’d said long after Natty drifted off to sleep. Had she destroyed her chance at love deliberately? Sure she’d told Tino more than once not to crawl into her bed. She’d pushed him onto the floor several times, woken him rudely with loud sudden noises, all kinds of shit. But when she woke in the middle of the night and found him beside her, more often than not, she just laughed at his audacity. After awhile he didn’t pay her any attention. He’d just roll over and go back to sleep.
She knew there was always a chance that Daney would appear and catch them. Hadn’t he surprised her more than once arriving before he was due? Didn’t she know how he’d react? That he wouldn’t believe the situation was innocent?
Yet she had still allowed that chance to get caught to exist. Natty was right. Was it arrogance? Destructiveness? Some inner disquiet or insecurity? Some deep-rooted feeling that she should be alone, that men were wrong or cruel or that the right one for her simply did not exist? And then she made it a reality.
“Christ,” she whispered, and shook Natty from his nap, wanting him awake though she knew he had no answers.
“What about you?” she asked. “You’re in my life, and you’re good, and kind and smart and there for me.”
“So was Daney. If you create your own reality, and you do, it stands to reason that if you want something, you’ll find a way to get it. You wanted someone to love you, and I do.”
He yawned and stretched, pulling her back into his arms.
“It’s different though,” he said quietly, and suddenly Fiona felt the urge to cry. He sounded so sad, and she didn’t want to think about why. Instead she asked him what he’d thought of her story before he fell asleep.
“Wretched,” he said instantly. “What about Flora’s dad?”
“He’s the one who didn’t wanna give me flowers.”
Natty pulled her up so he could look in her serious eyes. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” He asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
He gaped at her, stunned, and she began to laugh as it dawned on him that she’d been pulling his leg.
“Ooooh!” He said, and wrestled her down, tickling her fiercely.
“Help!” she cried. “Netty!” she squealed, laughing and squirming uselessly as she tried to get away. “Help! Cleo!”
“All right, dude.” Netty said, coming into the room. “That’s enough. I ain’t changin’ no pissy sheets.”
Natty let Fiona up finally, gasping and leaking tears. “I told him about Marcus, and he didn’t believe me.”
“Why not?” Netty asked. “I’ve got a worse story than that one.”
“You couldn’t possibly,” Natty told her firmly, and they all laughed.
“I do. I was dating this guy I met in a club. He wasn’t terribly exciting, but he had a nice body and a job, and he didn’t seem crazy. He seemed to have good common sense, goals for his life, and even more odd and straight edge, he didn’t do drugs or drink. He didn’t even rush me into bed. Matter of fact, I think I rushed him. Anyway, time passes. We get comfortable. Then all of a sudden, he stops calling. Won’t answer my calls. Months pass, and there’s nothing. I literally had nothing. I was baffled. I even tried to call him on his job a few times. Still nothing.
“But after a
while I get over it, you know. Then I see him walking downtown on Michigan Avenue with a girl on his arm. I don’t even respond. I pretend like I don’t see ‘em. He calls and says he was wrong, and he’s sorry and blah blah blah. I don’t remember his reason for that shit, but I forgave. I was on some ole I’m a nice person, I can forgive and forget type hype. I start going over to his crib to watch my show on cable ever week. Same time, same day. After a couple months, I fuck him. I didn’t expect anything. I think I was just horny.”
Fiona nodded. “You never do. That’s why it’s so utterly stupid when these zeros fuck over you. It’s like, for no reason.”
Netty nodded. “Exactly! Anyway, I come over a few more times, to watch TV, not fuck. He does it to me again. Same thing. Do you know, after some time passed that mother fucker called again and expected me to talk to him? Just as bold and nonchalant like nothing happened. No remorse. Nothing. Just a complete fuckin’ waste.”
“Jesus,” Natty laughed. “You guys can really pick ‘em. First a liar, now a coward. You at least,” he told Fiona, “Are movin’ up in the world.”
Chapter thirteen
“‘Lo?”
“Peace.”
“Feef Love! Wassup? Bad move, playa,” Mechante crowed. “You, are, set! Run my muh’fuckin’ ends!”
Fiona burst out laughing. “You be talkin’ to the Frenchies like that?”
Mechante gave her whisky and smoke laugh. “Yup. They know I don’t mean any harm. Half the time they don’ even know what I’m sayin’. My money, Pierre fairy.” She said something in flawless French. “Nothin’ like a French fag to try and stiff you, pun intended.”
Fiona kept laughing. “Well, I see yo’ ass ain’t changed.”
“Why would I? What’s up? How’s my boy?”
Mechante knew all about Natty. Fiona had called to report in, just as she had when the Tino/Daney situation broke.
Fiona Love Page 17