Hot Boyz

by Marissa Monteilh

  “Will do.” Dr. Green grinned. He then looked around the backyard. “You have a lovely home. You know, I live right across Slauson on Holt Avenue.”

  “Oh, you do. So we’re neighbors, huh?”

  He replied, “Yes, we are after all.”

  This time it was his turn. Mercedes watched his eyes roam downward, examining her waist area and then looking up toward her chest peeking out from her button-down linen dress.

  Her words interrupted his glimpse. “I hope you enjoy yourself. If you need anything, please let us know.”

  “I will do just that.” He started to walk away, just as she did. “And I just want to wish you a happy anniversary, Mrs. Wilson.”

  Mercedes stopped and turned. “Thanks, Dr. Green. I must go check on the caterers. Enjoy.”

  They walked away in opposite directions, but one second later Dr. Green ran smack dab into Heidi. He accidentally bumped her elbow and she spilled a bit of her red wine. They laughed it off while Heidi dabbed her arm with a napkin. She wore three-inch heels with her Burberry string bikini. Her hips were barely shielded by a short, tiny white wrap. Dr. Green continued to talk to Heidi, no longer glancing Mercedes’s way as he was now fully distracted by a new flavor.

  Cicely made her grand entrance as though Diana Ross herself had arrived. She ran to Heidi with a spectacular, dramatic, smooches-type greeting and they disappeared with Dr. Green into a corner near the wet bar. Cicely’s sheer pantsuit showed off her hot body in her hot pink one-piece underneath.

  Mercedes spoke to the bartender and the waiters and made sure everyone was well taken care of. Mason approached after talking to a few women who Mercedes had never seen before.

  “Who are they?” she asked as Mason approached.

  “That’s Traci and Candi. They’re marketing representatives for the Sean John line.” Both scantily clad, Traci and Candi, smothered in glittery sun tan oil, decided to sit on the edge of the pool and get their feet wet, sipping on chilled bottles of Jack Daniel’s Original Hard Cola.

  “You’ll have to introduce me later,” Mercedes said, giving them her attention.

  “Yes, baby. I will do that. What is wrong with you? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I just wish Venus were here. And I want this party to be a success.”

  Mason looked up at the sky. “Well, the weather is turning out to be pretty nice. See, the sun is shining through.” He checked out his woman. “And even better than that, you look as beautiful as ever, I’ll say that much. Baby, I just remembered. When I took Mom to breakfast, she had your string of pearls in her purse.”

  “Mamma did? I’ve been looking for those.”

  “I took them from her, so not to worry.”

  “What was she doing with them?”

  “Don’t ask. She had everything in that bag but the kitchen sink.”

  “Where are they?”

  “They’re in my briefcase.”

  “Oh, you finally got your briefcase from Cicely, huh?”

  “Yes, but I left it in the car. I’ll go get it while I’m thinking about it.”

  “Right now?” Mercedes asked.

  “I’ll just be a second.”

  “No, I’ll go. I need to go in the kitchen anyway and check on things. I’ll be right back.”

  “Look in my blazer pocket hanging in the backseat if you don’t see it in the case. But it should be right on top.”

  “Okay,” Mercedes said, going into the house as she greeted more guests, taking the kitchen door into the garage.

  She did not see a blazer hanging from the backseat hook, so she looked in the backseat then toward the front seat of his Benz. She found the case on the passenger side on the floor. Strangely, Mercedes noticed a few long, thick strands of hair along the butterscotch-colored carpet. There was one on the palomino leather passenger seat, too. She picked up a strand and ran her fingers along the length of the piece of hair. She held it up and thought it could have been thread or something, it was so thick. It was a cherry red, and it curled when she scraped it with her fingernail.

  Shaking her head to shake loose some of her thoughts, she opened the briefcase. Her pearls were right on top. She took the pearls and started to close the case when she spied a stack of photos tucked in the upper sleeve to the left. She pulled out the photos and noticed they were shots from Mason’s tour in Hawaii. Mason was smiling with his caddy and a few fans. A couple of shots were taken while he was on the course. And the last two were of Mason, Cicely, and Heidi, all hugged up and smiling for the photographer. It must have been a windy day because Heidi’s long red hair was blowing from her back to her side, topped by her red baseball cap.

  Mercedes tucked all of the pictures back in the slot, all except for one. She threw the case on the floor of the car and slammed the door, walking heavily back into the house. She made a beeline straight to Mason who was talking to Torino near the tennis court.

  “Excuse me, Mason. I need to talk to you.”

  He noticed her scowl. “What is it? Did you find the pearls?”

  “I need to talk to you now” she said, looking at Torino.

  “I’ll be right back,” Torino said, picking up on the urgent need for the two of them to be alone. He walked away and greeted a few of the artists from the night at the club.

  “What’s going on with you and Heidi?”

  “What is what? What brought this on?” he asked, lowering his voice.

  “This,” she said, shoving the picture toward his face.

  Mason snickered. “That’s just a shot of them and me when they stopped through for the tournament in Hawaii.”

  “But you said they weren’t in Honolulu with you.”

  “They weren’t but they stopped through either coming or going on their vacation. I don’t remember. Mercedes, what are you trying to say?”

  “I’m saying that this woman is in my own backyard, and her strands of hair are in my husband’s car. I’m trying to say that I’m about to go off right now unless you explain yourself quickly.” Mercedes was fast losing patience.

  Mason did not want to cause a scene. He looked around at the guests to check for stares. “Mercedes calm down. Let’s go inside.”

  “Good idea. Follow me,” she said abruptly, storming her way into the house and on upstairs into their bedroom. Torino kept an eye on them.

  Mason closed the door behind them.

  Mercedes’s look was direct. “Mason, what do you have to say for yourself?”

  “The same thing I told you a minute ago. Nothing is going on with Heidi and me.”

  She threw the strand of pearls down on the dresser. “I go looking for a strand of pearls and find a strand of hair. And here I was worried about Cicely all this time.”

  “Baby, believe me, Cicely is the least of your worries. And so is Heidi.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Screw this. Obviously you’re not going to admit to a damn thing, Mason. You’ve been busted and you’re still playing Mr. Innocent. It makes me sick to see you so damn smug, standing here lying to me after all these years.” She paced the length of the room.

  “Cedes, I’m not lying.”

  With irritation mounting, she demanded, “Tell me the truth, now.”

  “I am,” he insisted.

  She stopped in her tracks. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Then why don’t you ask them for yourself?” he said casually.

  “Fine, I will.”

  A concerned Sequoia and Torino were waiting downstairs for the at-odds host and hostess to show their faces. Mercedes raced downstairs, right past them, leaving Mason standing in place in their bedroom. Mercedes saw Cicely and Heidi in the corner by the bar taking to Dr. Green. She approached like she was in no mood to make nice. Sequoia stood nearby as Torino went back into the house to check on Mason.

  “Dr. Green, will you excuse us for a minute?” Mercedes asked abruptly.

  An unsuspecting Heidi said, “I didn’t know you knew Dr. Green, Mercedes. He lives
right down the street from me.”

  “Oh you live in Ladera too, huh?” Mercedes asked with her toe tapping.

  “Yes, right around the corner. What a small world.”

  “Yes, it is,” Mercedes replied. “Dr. Green, we’ll just be a moment.”

  “No problem. I’ll be right over here,” he replied, getting the obvious drift that something was up.

  “Okay,” said Cicely. “Mercedes, what’s going on?”

  “Did the two of you go to Hawaii with my husband on vacation?”

  Cicely answered. “No, we went to Maui, but we stopped in Honolulu on our way home. We left early because the weather was so bad. Why?”

  Mercedes shoved the photo toward their faces. “What’s with all of those cozy pictures of the three of you?”

  “The pictures we took on the golf course? Oh yes, I gave the second set to Mason last week. I wouldn’t call those cozy. We were just spectators while he played. We were only there for like six hours. What’s going on with you, Mercedes?” asked Cicely, trying to be nice.

  “Yeah, what’s the matter?” Heidi asked.

  Mercedes spoke to Heidi. “What’s the matter is that I’ve found your hair all in my husband’s car. And you have the nerve to come to my home?”

  “Mercedes, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Heidi said cautiously.

  “I think you do,” Mercedes said as if challenging her.

  Cicely spoke again. “Mercedes, there’s something you need to know. Obviously you’re having trust issues with Mason, and I’m not one to judge a woman’s intuition. But believe me, he is not seeing Heidi.”

  “What other black woman have I ever seen with long red hair, other than her?”

  Cicely went on, “I don’t know what you saw, but you need to know something. And I’m surprised Mason hasn’t told you.”

  “What is that?”

  Cicely smoothed her surly hair behind her ear. “Heidi is not my sister, she’s my lover.”

  “What?” Mercedes was dearly surprised.

  “Mercedes, I’ve been with Heidi for as long as I can remember. Heidi is not into men. Trust me.”

  “There’s no chance?” Mercedes asked, much more calmly.

  Cicely spoke again. “Mercedes, there’s no chance that I’ve been sharing my lover with your husband. Believe me.”

  Mercedes looked at the photo again. “I feel like a damn fool. Ladies, I’m so sorry.”

  Heidi remarked, “Mason should have told you.”

  Mercedes said, “He’s like that, trying to keep people’s business their own. I apologize.”

  Heidi explained, “It’s okay. You’re not the first woman who thought I was after her man. I think because Cicely and I are feminine, we get hit on even more. It appears that we threaten wives when we’re really just kicking it with their men because we really like men, as friends.”

  “Well, it doesn’t help that you two label yourself as sisters,” Mercedes told them.

  “I do that more than she does. Plus we’re together so much that people would start to wonder,” Cicely said.

  Mercedes advised, “One day, I think you two might want to just let it be and damn what people think about you.”

  “Maybe one day we will,” Cicely said.

  “Anyway, have a good time and again, excuse my paranoid, insecure ass today. It’s really not like me.”

  “No problem,” they both said together.

  Dr. Green walked back up with a Mack Daddy strut, eyeballing Heidi as if he wanted to sop her up with a biscuit. Heidi moved in even closer to Cicely.

  “Mercedes, are you okay?” asked Sequoia. “I heard what happened. I’ve seen explosions more subtle than that, girl. That’s not like you.”

  “I must have looked so damn stupid. I must be deep into PMS.”

  “Never mind that. Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay, Sequoia. I’ve got to go apologize to my man.”

  By then, Mason was downstairs in the house shooting pool with Winton, his caddy.

  With his eyes fixed on his game he spoke to his wife. “You satisfied now?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I just wanted you to know how ridiculous that was.”

  Mercedes stood with her arms crossed. “Okay so I feel ridiculous, Mason. Are you happy now?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, I’m sorry.”

  Mason said nothing.

  Mercedes continued, “But why didn’t you tell me about Cicely before now?”

  “I just found out not long ago myself.”

  “So, you still should have told me.”

  “Cedes?” He said her name while sizing up his next shot.

  “Yes,” she answered, suddenly sounding like a rational woman.

  “If you’d have been paying attention instead of snooping, you would have seen this in my briefcase.” Mason pulled a pink velvet box out of his pants pocket, handed it to her and continued sizing up his game as if it was golf.

  Mercedes stood with the box in both hands and asked, “What is this?”

  “Open it,” he replied, putting chalk on his cue. Winton took his shot.

  Mercedes was almost afraid to catch a glimpse of what was inside as though maybe she didn’t deserve it. Lightly, she brushed her fingertips across the top and flipped it open with her thumb with caution, finding that to her surprise, tucked inside the white satin slot was a platinum anniversary ring with three, one carat, princess cut, baby pink sapphires. She inhaled and exhaled a major breath and then placed her flat hand over her heart. Her jaw dropped.

  “Happy anniversary,” he said as he prepared to take his shot, not even looking back at her. He hit the yellow ball straight into the corner pocket.

  Mercedes didn’t bother to look at him either. She took the ring out of the tiny box and slipped it on the middle finger of her right hand. She held her hand out for a full viewing, giving approval of its brilliance through her admiration-filled eyes. “Thank you, Mason. It’s beautiful.” Just as Mercedes prepared to take a step toward him with a pucker, she heard a crash. “What was that noise?”

  “It sounded like a car wreck,” said Winton, placing the cue on the pool table and taking a few hurried steps toward the door.

  Winton, Mason, and Mercedes ran outside to see that Star was behind the wheel of Mason’s Porsche, looking shocked and traumatized. She had decided to take the sports car for a drive and she ran smack dab into the small sycamore tree in the front yard. She got out crying, limping toward her mother looking stunned.

  Later that evening after all of the drama of towing the car away and filing a police report, everyone arrived back from the emergency room. Mercedes sat in Star’s room. She took a moment to console her and help her through her trauma. Star had an ace bandage on her knee. She bruised it on the steering wheel column. Mercedes wanted Star to know that what she did by driving her dad’s car without permission was wrong, but that they were indeed grateful that she was not too seriously hurt, nor was anyone else. Mercedes had also gotten in an accident when she was a teenager. She had taken her cousin’s sports car for a joyride in the rain and plowed right into the back of a police car. She told her daughter about that day and suddenly her own dilemma didn’t seem to bad.

  Mason was grateful that all of the commotion was over for the evening. After the guests left and the caterers cleared out, Mason sat in the backyard under the stars and had a conversation with Claude. Mason had had enough.

  “I’m putting this house up for sale, man. I’m leaving,” Mason told Claude while looking up, examining the glittering big dipper.

  “I think that’s the best decision you’ve made in a while, man. You know how I feel about this damn place.”

  “Go ahead and put a sign up tomorrow. List it for whatever you think it’s worth, maybe even less. Just sell it.”

  “Okay. Where do you want to buy?”

  “You know people act like they don’t even know I own property
all over the country, man. Las Vegas, Martha’s Vineyard, and even in Tampa. I’m just talking about living where I want to live. In California.”

  “Yeah, but where?” Claude asked.

  “Perhaps Bel Air, maybe even Beverly Hills, I don’t know,” Mason muttered with uncertainty.

  “You can get a lot more house, but it will probably cost three or four times more. Besides, you need a golf course in your backyard anyway. No more going to the local course or country club to practice. That doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  “Whatever, man. I just need to start over.”

  “With the family, right?” Claude asked to get a sense of exactly how much of a change he intended.

  Mason looked at him as though there was no doubt in his mind. “With the family. Even though I don’t know what the hell has been up with them lately. Especially Mercedes.”

  “I think the ladies in this family trip more than we do. They’re all over the place.”

  Surprise was written on Mason’s face. “How is Venus all over the place? She’s probably the very one who stays out of trouble the most.”

  Claude looked surprised. “You’re sticking up for Venus?”

  “I’ve never had a problem with her. You need to go get her and stop all of this pride crap, bro.”

  “Maybe so.”

  “You know, Claude. All I ever wanted to do was provide for my family like Dad did. He got us straight up out of poverty and wanted nothing more than to do well by us,” Mason said, picking up an abandoned, capless, half-bottle of liquor.

  Claude reacted, “Man, you need to put that down. Your answers are not in there. I can tell you that.”

  “Coming from a man who’s never had a drink in his life.” Mason sniffed the mouth of the cognac bottle, taking in a whiff of the fragrant, potent eighty-proof hard liquor. He gave a look of both repulsion and delight. “All these many years of sobriety would be down the tube.”

  “After I saw what it did to Dad, tearing up his liver and shit, you’ll never get me to try it. It sent him to his grave.”

  “As much as I respect Dad for all that he did for us by teaching us the value of hard work, in a lot of ways, I refuse to be just like him. Dad solved his problems in a bottle. I grew up thinking that’s where all of the answers were supposed to be, right inside of here.” Mason squinted his right eye and peeked inside of the brown bottle. He raised it to the sky, trying to see if he could find any quick-fix answers that might be hiding deep inside. He set it down on the table, clanging it with strength as it met the beveled glass top. “There’s nothing in there that would help me deal with my stress. I’ve been there, done that.”