by Zane
Mo also knew it was time for her to pick up her own personal pieces and move on. Start another chapter in an otherwise dull book called her life. It was time for her to get out more and do other things besides working all the time. She’d thought about taking a vacation, getting on a plane and letting it drop her off on some island somewhere. The idea of basking in the sun on a warm beach brought a smile to her face. She’d sip on something blue that matched the ocean, dig her toes into warm, soft sand, stroll hand in hand with the most handsome Rasta-man on the planet, smiling while he sang songs in her ear about her and romance. Or maybe it was time to let Naomi drag her off to one of those nightclubs she enjoyed going to so much, and shake her behind all over the dance floor bumping and grinding some man into a frenzy.
Mo shook her head. She hated clubs. They were all full of people wearing neon signs on their foreheads that said, “Get Your One Night Stand Here!,” which is why her sister changed boyfriends like she changed panties. Mo needed so much more than that. Yes, she needed a lover. But she also needed a man who could be her friend. Jonathan had spoiled her, and to think she could ever possibly find anyone to replace him would be so unfair and highly unlikely. But she’d at least like to find someone to rival him. Maybe someone capable of stirring feelings inside her that Jonathan hadn’t had time to stir. That’s what she wanted. In all this time, no one had even come close to piqueing her interest. Meeting men wasn’t the problem. But, being interested in them enough to make an attempt at a relationship seemed nearly impossible for Mo. Naomi accused her of being entirely too picky. Like that was a bad thing? Mo didn’t agree with that. There were no real physical requirements that had to be met. Even financially—as long as the man had a job—a steady paying job, that was fine with her. It wasn’t like he had to drive a Lexus to impress her. His soul just had to mesh with hers. That’s all. Was that asking too much?
When the phone rang, Mo thought to herself, “Somebody had better be in need of a blood donor, or else…” She glared at the door where Sheila sat helplessly on the other side.
“Hey. Whatchu doin’, Baaaby?” Troy sang from the other end of the phone line.
Lord, she is not in the mood for this man today. “Working,” she said dryly.
“On?”
“What is it, Troy? I’m really busy, Baby.”
Like what difference did that make to him anyway? Mo’s younger brother was not intimidated by his sister’s attitude. Other people might’ve been scared of the woman, but not him. “You always busy, Mo. If I waited until you weren’t busy to call you, I’d never get to talk to you.”
“And…your point is?” she asked sarcastically.
“I’m in a good mood today, Maureen, and even you can’t steal my joy.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“See…that’s why you don’t have any friends, Mo. That bad disposition of yours is gonna get you a good ass whooping one of these days. You need to be careful who you talk to like that. And you need to be glad I even bother calling you. At least somebody out here gives a shit about your mean ass.”
Mo smiled. “Thanks, Troy. I love you, too.”
“Good. Does that mean you’ll go to lunch with me? I’m right downtown and I could be there in a few. Or better yet, I could meet you someplace. How about Ms. Thea’s? I’m in the mood for some Picadillo.”
Mo sighed. “Troy, I’ve got a budget to put together and I brought my lunch today.”
“C’mon, Maureen,” he pleaded. “Pleeeeease? I’m buying.”
Pleading usually meant he had something on his mind and wanted to talk. And the fact that he was willing to buy her lunch meant he had a new man in his life he was dying to brag about. Damn! Family could be such a pain in the behind sometimes. And Troy could be especially relentless. If she absolutely insisted on not meeting him for lunch, chances were he’d show up tomorrow morning at six expecting breakfast.
“I’ll meet you at Ms. Thea’s then. Noon?”
“Yeah…noon’s cool.”
“You do understand, I really don’t have time for this.”
“Mo, how many times are you gonna tell me that? Like I care?”
Actually, she was crazy about him and he knew it, which is why he took liberties the way he did. Troy was the only boy in the family sandwiched between two sisters who spoiled him rotten with attention and he took advantage of every minute of it. Five years ago, he’d “come out” so to speak, which for Troy really wasn’t necessary because it was obvious to everyone that he’d had a little sugar in his tank. Naturally, the only person who seemed surprised at all had been Daddy. Troy’s announcement hurt and embarrassed him, but it never changed his love for his son. In Daddy’s eyes, “God made you a man, Troy and that’s what you always gon’ be to me. I don’t wanna hear ’bout none of that other mess.” Out of respect, Troy tamed down the feminine antics around Daddy, but he could put on one hell of a show for Mo and Naomi. Even Momma had caught him in action from time to time.
He was late as usual, but made an entrance like a fresh, cool breeze on a bright, summer’s day. Mo halfway expected to see a blue bird land on his shoulder. She rolled her eyes, disgusted that he’d managed to pry her away from her project (that she really wasn’t even working on but was about to start working on) only to take his sweet time getting here. Her first diet cola was almost gone and she was just about to order another one before he blew in.
He ignored her chilly demeanor, because Troy felt too good to let Miss “I’ve Got a Chip on My Shoulder All the Damn Time” get the best of him. “Hi,” he said, grinning. “How are you?”
Maureen wasn’t the least bit amused. “So…what’s on your mind, Troy?”
“Fine, thank you. Oh this?” he said, referring to his new sweater. “I got this the other day. On sale, Girl. You like this color on me? You know I normally wear earth tones, but I thought I’d spice up my wardrobe a little bit.”
The waiter came back over to the table. “Y’all ready to order now?”
“Yes. We’re finally ready to order,” she said, cutting her eyes at her brother.
He ordered that Picadillo he’d been craving. Mo decided to try something new for a change and settled on the Curried Coconut Shrimp and Sweet Potato Fries.
Troy could barely contain his excitement. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“Guess.”
“Troy!” Mo could barely contain her annoyance.
“You’re being pissy, Mo. You know I can’t stand it when you’re pissy.”
“Will you just tell me?”
“Hmph! Not if you’ve got to ask me like that.” He rolled his eyes this time. “You know…you really need to learn how to talk to people, Maureen. Now I know we’re family and all, but…”
Mo put her hand on his arm. “Troy,” she said sweetly, stopping him before he decided to leap off onto a long winded, useless tangent about nothing. “What is it you want to tell me? I’m listening, Honey.”
Troy grinned. “Oh all right. Since you insist. I met a man.”
“You always meet men, which is more than I can say for some of us.”
“Well, Mo, acting pissy all the time doesn’t help.”
“I’m not pissy all the…”
“Anyway,” Troy interrupted, “his name is Gregory and he is absolutely divine.”
Divine? What a dumb word, she thought to herself. Only gay men and rich old white women used words like “divine.”
“He’s about six feet two inches, weighs maybe one hundred ninety pounds, which is a tad bit leaner than I like but…oh Mo, the brotha’s got it going on. He’s an engineer, single, well…divorced. Got two kids, both grown. Let’s see…he’s forty-five, got big, brown eyes you just wanna drown yourself in.”
She couldn’t help but smile. Troy talked about this man like he was describing a gourmet meal, smacking and licking his lips. “Dang, Troy. He does sound…divine. Where’d you meet him?”
Troy hesitated, then leaned in close a
nd whispered, “On the Internet.”
She chuckled. “On the internet? You met him on the internet?”
“Yes, I did. What’s so funny about that?”
“What…was he running an ad or something?”
“As a matter of fact…” he said smugly.
When she realized he wasn’t joking, Mo tried to compose herself. “You can’t be serious, Troy. He had an ad on the internet?”
“Lots of people do it, Maureen. This is the new millennium, or haven’t you been paying attention?”
“But Troy…on the internet. Do you know how many freaks hang out on the internet?”
“Freaks aren’t particular, Mo. They’ll hang out any damn where they please, including restaurants. Look around you,” he said, waving his hand in the air. “I’d be willing to bet that you got plenty of freaks right here.” The lady at the table next to them looked at Troy like he’d lost his mind.
“Troy. You’re a bright man. Why would you trust meeting some stranger over the internet? And don’t give me that crap about it being the new millennium. I know what year it is. But do you know how dangerous something like that can be?”
“Maureen. It’s not like I just answered his ad, we met, fucked and that’s it,” he snapped. Now who was being pissy? “We’ve been taking it slow, which is why the internet is cool. We emailed each other for awhile, then exchanged phone numbers, then after we both felt comfortable, we hooked up in person. Where’s the pressure?”
“Well, you sound like you know what you’re doing.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“And you really like this guy?”
Troy smiled. “Yes. I really do and you’ll like him too. I want you to meet him.”
“I’m looking forward to it. I really am.”
Troy went on and on about Gregory all during lunch.
“So he was married?”
“Yes. Greg is like a lot of gay brothas. He’d been in denial when he got married; then, they had the kids, so he felt obligated to stay. You know…did what society says he’s supposed to do, never mind the fact that the man was miserable, which made his wife miserable, which made the dog miserable. Why do you think people are so quick to deny themselves, Mo? I mean…you know when you’re doing something that just isn’t you, but you do it anyway because you’re afraid of what everybody else is going to say. I don’t know. Life’s too short for all that in my opinion. You’re born. You die. The in-between is what it’s all about. You ever thought about that?”
“Not really.” She shrugged.
“Oh. I guess you ain’t got time to dwell on shit like that, huh? Too busy to waste all that time thinking about philosophy and stuff,” he said sarcastically, which Mo chose to ignore.
“If you must know…I don’t think about it ’cause I’m one of those people too busy denying myself.” She smiled.
“Praise God! Chile, at least you can admit it.”
“Yeah…I’ve been admitting a lot of things to myself lately.”
“Like?”
“Like…I’m getting tired of denying myself.”
“It’s about time. I was wondering when you were going to wake up and smell the chai tea, Girl.”
“Well, I’m up and I’m smelling it. But I’m not sure what I’m gonna do about it. I’m tired, Troy. Do you have any idea how hard it is to live in a box?”
“You know better than to ask me that.”
“I’m just…I want out.”
He shrugged. “So get out.”
“I don’t know how. I’ve been living like this so long, I wouldn’t even know where to start changing.”
“Mo, you’re making this way too hard.”
“I’m not trying to make it hard. I’m trying to do something about it and the problem is, I have no idea what to do. I used to be so outgoing. Now…I’m this pent-up, uptight, ball of…”
“Barbed wire?”
“Thanks, Troy. So how do I undo all that?”
“A little at a time, Baby. Girl, it took you years and lots of hard work to build up those walls. They can come down, but don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s all about a process. It’ll take time, but now that you know what the problem is, that’s half the battle.”
Mo smiled. Troy had always been so patient with her. Especially after she lost Jonathan. Naomi had taken Ty to her place for awhile, while Maureen fell apart, and Troy would stop by every day on his way home from work, bringing a bottle of Chardonnay or a six pack of Coronas and some of Pierre’s fried fish or Kapri chicken. They’d get drunk, eat until they couldn’t eat anymore, cry, then pass out from being drunk, full, or just plain exhausted.
Growing up, he’d been the little sister Naomi had gotten there too late to be. Mo and Troy were only two years apart in age and they’d been closer than brother and sister. Troy learned at a very young age that he wasn’t like the other little boys and he paid dearly for it. But he was tough and Mo was tougher, ready to give or get an ass whooping for him at a moment’s notice.
“I’m a sissy, ain’t I Mo?” he cried one day after being called a fag by a group of bullies.
“Boy! You ain’t no sissy! You my best friend!” She meant it then, and it still held true, even now. She worried about him, though. Troy liked living on the edge and did the kind of things Mo knew could get him hurt. But he swore up and down that he knew what he was doing. Whatever the case, Mo was still big sister and she was still willing to whoop up on any son-of-a-bitch stupid enough to try messing with her little brother.
Troy pulled out a pen and piece of paper from his organizer, quickly scribbled something on it, then handed it to Mo.
“Blackgentlemen.com? What is this?”
“It’s where I met Gregory.”
“So why are you giving it to me? I’m not looking for gay men.”
“They’re not all gay, Mo. I found Gregory in the MSM section.”
“MSM?”
“Man Searching for Man. You need to look in the MSW section. I checked it out, Girl. They got some fine ones in that section.”
“No thank you, Troy.” She slid the paper back over to him. “I’m not interested.”
“How come I had a feeling you were going to say that? You don’t have to use it, but will you at least think about it? Just check it out. What can it hurt?”
“This isn’t exactly the way I’d planned on having my debut, Troy. I’d like something a little more…normal.”
“Child, please. Normal is as normal does.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means…ain’t nobody’s business what you do up in your house but yours. You’re a young, attractive woman. Don’t let it go to waste.”
“Thank you, little brother.”
He slid the paper back over to her. “It’s easy, Maureen. If you meet someone and it turns out he’s not your type, cut him loose. Hit the ‘delete’ key and…Boom! Pow! It’s over.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that, Baby. But if you do happen to find someone you like, take your time…write each other, build up your confidence again. Before you know it, you’ll be back to your old flirtatious, teasing self.” He smiled.
Mo shook her head, folded up the slip of paper, and put it in her purse. Of course she’d never use it, but if it made Troy feel better to think she’d think about it, then yeah. She’d pacify him. She owed him that much.
After Jonathan died, Mo vowed to spend the rest of her life alone. Of course, that was impossible. She missed all those things women miss when they’re in love. Like having her hand held. Having her lips gently sucked on and kissed. Being told how pretty she was. Having someone stroke her hair, or her back, or her pussy. She missed having big, strong shoulders wrapping arms around her. She missed falling asleep to deep, slow, rhythmic heartbeats buried somewhere behind a broad chest. No, being alone wasn’t cool anymore. Not cool at all.
Chapter Four
Kevin eased out of bed at 6:27 a.m. He quickly and quietly finished dressing,
then stopped to gaze down at the delectable Kiara…What was her last name? Did she even have one? Had she told him what it was? Hell, he couldn’t remember. “Damn!” he mouthed. If nothing else, that woman was definitely creative. And flexible. A little too damn flexible. With some serious stamina. Way too much stamina. Made him tired just thinking about it. Like most men, Kevin had done his share of bragging about how long he could keep it up. Truth is, most of the time his claim, like that of most men, was bullshit. In his mind, it wasn’t healthy for a man to cum more than four times within a twenty-four hour period. And Kiara seemed determined to milk a brotha bone dry. He eventually had to tell the woman—enough! She pouted, rolled off him, then fell right off to sleep. Shit, she knew she’d had enough too, but for some reason he felt she was out to try to prove something. Like the fact that she could outlast him. Hell yeah, she could outlast him! It’s a known scientific fact…when a man cums, he must have sleep! Period. Just a few minutes is all it takes, but Kiara wasn’t even trying to be considerate. A woman like that would fuck a man to death in less than a year.
Leaving before she woke up was both a matter of life or death (his) and probably the most considerate thing he could do. After all, what did they have in common anyway besides fucking? He shuddered at the thought of the two of them struggling to hold a meaningful conversation over coffee and eggs. Things had been different between them the night before. There hadn’t been any real conversation. But there had been plenty of innuendos and signals, typical to the ritualistic habits of mammals mating like those on animal shows. Nothing personal, just sex. He didn’t even feel guilty because he knew that’s all it had been for her too. He just hoped she wasn’t one of those women who believed that good pussy was powerful enough to justify putting a leash around a man’s neck, and dragging him behind her like a dog in heat. Damn! If that’s what she thought, then maybe he ought to wake her up and enlighten the sistah. Pussy was pussy and all pussy was good pussy. Sure, some pussy was better than other pussy, but Kevin couldn’t remember ever having had bad pussy. So despite what some women might think, devouring a man with some good pussy was not the answer to winning a man’s heart.