"It has everything to do with Seven,” Gucci retorted. “But guess what? He don't give a fuck about you. He don't care that you're with Darshon. It just confirmed everything that he's thought about your ass from day one."
Gucci was a bit tipsy, and there was no stopping her. I didn't try. I sat back and watched her. She was the shade of buttered toffee, with skin just as creamy. Her hair was cut high in the back and got longer as it neared the front. She had almond shaped brown eyes with long lashes. She was about five feet, six inches tall and weighed about a hundred and forty-five pounds. On a bad day, Gucci could make any supermodel look like they needed an extreme make-over.
"Milkshake." I looked up into Seven's face. "What's wrong, baby?”
"This bitch," Gucci said, waving her hand in Trish's direction.
"What happened?"
"Nothing, baby. Everything is fine."
I didn't want to upset Seven. I saw no reason. Trish hadn't done anything but apologize. Six came out, followed by Darkie, who was followed by Trim and three others.
"It's half-time, Sis. What's crackin' with a man's vittles?"
"Raise up off my Milkshake, boy."
"You ready, baby?" I asked Seven.
"If you are. Don't let these vultures rush you," he laughed. "My baby calls the shots on this one."
"Whipped," Six said. "Just whipped."
With Trish's help, I filled a pan with the meats, then went inside to get the other food.
"Sis, we got to eat outside?" Six asked.
"Bro, what does it look like?" Everybody laughed. "You're the last person I would trust with barbecue sauce and a carpet."
"That's cold," he mumbled.
I fixed a plate for Seven and sat next to him at the round table on the deck. Gucci made Six's plate, and he took a seat on my other side. Gucci sat next to him. Trish hadn't moved. Darkie was staring at her. Everybody else was filling their plates and cups.
"Get up and fix my fuckin' plate," Darkie ordered. Trish didn't move. All you could hear was a few crickets chirping in the distance. "Did you hear me?" She looked up at him defiantly. "Worthless bitch."
"Fuck you."
"What did you just say to me?" He asked. "Wha'd you say, ho?"
"You heard me. Fix you own damn plate! Nigga, I ain’t the Help!"
"You trifling ass ho. You ain't even good enough to be my maid. All you good for is bending over for me to stick this dick in yo' ass."
My hands started to shake uncontrollably. I set my fork down, and glanced over at Seven. He was eating as if nothing was happening.
"You needle dick, bastard. I'm sick of this shit," Trish cried.
I rubbed the sweat from my hands on the thighs of my jeans.
"Bitch, I don't give a fuck what you're sick of. You gon' keep bendin' that ass over and suckin' this dick when I say so."
"That's enough," Seven said calmly. He didn't have to say it twice. "Y’all upsettin' my Milkshake, and who the hell wants to hear about this ho bent over while they're tryin' to eat?"
Everybody laughed, except myself and Trish, who burst into tears, got up from the table and ran inside. I got up to follow her. Seven grabbed my wrist. I sat back down.
"Go check on yo' ho," he told Darshon.
"Man, I don't give a ..." Seven didn't let him finish.
"Go chick on your ho," he repeated. "Take her ass home if you got to, but I ain't gon' have y’all upsetting my baby."
"I don't know why y’all invited that bitch anyway," Darshon mumbled as he walked inside.
"Eat your food, Milkshake. You can't drink and not eat."
I started eating, and realized I was starving.
"Damn, Sis. This fool been starving you? Say the word and I'll be all on his ass," Six joked. My plate was clean before Seven's. "You gon' feed my sis, man. Ay, I ain't ever heard my boo be quiet for this long. Tell me your secret, Bari. How'd you do it?"
Everybody laughed. I looked at Gucci. She smiled at Six, then her expression changed.
"I don't like the shit Trish be tryin' to pull with Bari. All that ho-sympathizin' shit. I ain't with it at all. I don't even like her around Bari."
"Don't trip, Gooch," Seven said. "That ho ain't stupid enough to do shit to my baby, but Bari ain't like us. If she wants to forgive the bitch then leave her alone. That's the kind of heart she has."
I stood and picked up Seven's plate, along with mine.
"You want some more?”
He shook his head.
"No. Thank you, baby."
"Bari, you dropped your napkin," Six said. "And you know how you're always sweatin' a brotha about cleaning up behind himself."
I squatted to pick it up. My pants, which had managed to cover me pretty well so far, dipped down in the back, revealing a baby blue thong.
"Trim, nigga, stop staring at my baby's ass," Seven laughed.
He said it in a joking manner, but I knew he was dead serious, and so did Gucci and Six, who exchanged glances. I was so embarrassed. I immediately stood and set the plates back down on the table. Trim laughed, if out of nothing but sheer relief.
"Sorry, baby," I said where only Seven could hear.
"I ain't trippin', Milkshake. I can't say I blame the nigga. My baby got it goin' on in a real way." I blushed. "Finish doing what you were doing. You don't let these fools make you uncomfortable. This is your house."
I smiled gratefully down at him.
Seven and I stood at the door while people filed out. Even after the game was over, they still lingered. It turned out to be a beautiful night after all. Darshon and Trish never came back after he went to check on her.
"Alright, man," Seven said, shaking Six's hand and pulling him into a hug.
He hugged Gucci also. When Trim was leaving, he and Seven looked at each other and started laughing. He then reached out and shook Seven's hand, then mine.
"It was nice meeting you, Bari."
"You too, Trim," I said, pulling my hand away. I put it in my pocket. "Have a good night."
He left, and Seven closed the door behind him. I was glad Gucci and I cleaned up everything while they were finishing the game.
"I'm glad all them fools are gone. Come shower with me, Milkshake."
"Okay, baby," I said, turning off the lights.
He went up the stairs. I took my time climbing the staircase, then reached in my pocket and pulled out the piece of paper that Trim had slid to me when he shook my hand. I looked at it. My hands shook as I stuffed his phone number down in the small pocket on the front of my jeans.
Chapter 25
"You tired?" Seven asked, sliding underneath the covers and motioning for me to join him.
"A little I guess. I had fun today though."
"Good. I'm glad."
He pulled me close to him and held me against him.
"Seven, I need to tell you something."
"I already know."
"But. . . "
"I already know, baby."
"Seven. . . "
"I was just waiting on you."
"And what if I wouldn't have said anything?"
"I wouldn't have either."
I put the piece of paper in his hand and watched in silence as he reached for his phone.
"Trim, what's going on? I just got your message saying you wanted me to call you. You didn't? Aw, damn, I must be trippin'. I figured since you gave my girl your number that you must have wanted me to call." I listened to the change in Seven's voice. I had never heard him use as many obscene words as he used right then. "You already know what's up. On sight, nigga." He hung up the phone. "Bitch ass punk."
"How did you know, Seven?"
"'Cause you're mine." He didn't offer an explanation, and I didn't ask him to elaborate. "You need to go to sleep. We got another big day tomorrow, or did you forget?"
"What? Oh, no. I did forget. I forgot all about it." Seven's parents, along with Darshon and Trish, were coming over for dinner. "What am I going to make?" I asked nervously.
I woke up early the next morning, left Seven sleeping and showered then dressed. I wasn't exactly enthusiastic about being in the company of Trish and Darshon again, but what could I say? Darshon was part of his family. Seven's father, whose name was Major, was Jamaican and Creole. His mother was African American. It wasn't even six o'clock in the morning when I began preparing Barbecued Cornish hens, oyster dressing, candied yams, collard greens, hot water cornbread and seafood spaghetti. For dessert, I would bake a German chocolate cake, a pineapple upside down cake, a sweet potato pie and a peach cobbler.
"You got it smelling like a soul food restaurant up in here," Seven said, kissing my cheek.
He was fresh out of the shower and smelled like a combination of Lever 2000 soap and Calvin Klein after shave. His dreadlocks were pulled back and held by a gray bandanna, the ends damp from the shower. He walked around the kitchen, lifting up lids on the pots that were sitting on the stove.
"They better hurry up and get here before I start without 'em."
"Baby, it's eleven o'clock. You have a while."
I put the cake in the oven and set the pies on the counter to cool.
"I'm starving, Milkshake."
He got a saucer from the cabinet, fished in my pot of greens until he found an overgrown ham hock, then sat down at the table. When most of the cooking was done, and food was just simmering on the stove, I went to shower and dress. I put on a pair of black jeans, a black sheer shirt and slid my feet into a pair of black Jimmy Choo boots, a gift from Seven. I applied my make-up, secured my hair in a black ponytail clip and went to check on dinner.
"Seven!" I screamed.
"What is it, baby?" He asked, running into the kitchen.
"You know good and damn well what it is!" I was furious. "How could you?" I asked, as I pointed to the sweet potato pie with the huge missing piece.
My anger dissolved into laughter as he stood there trying to look innocent. I hugged him tightly.
"Where did you learn to cook like this? This food is delicious." Major said, filling up his plate for the third time. "I don't know how long it's been since I've had some good down home cooking. I can't believe this girl in only sixteen."
"This is very good, Bari. I haven't ate like this since I left Arkansas," Seven's mother, whose name was Birdie Belle, commented. Everyone called her Birdie. "It's like my mother herself made this food."
"Thank you," I replied shyly, yet gratefully.
"Yeah, Sis. You got down," Darshon said.
Trish was barely eating, just nibbling little bites here and there. She looked miserable.
"Bari, you need to go into the catering business when you get older," Major advised.
"Well, I've thought about that, but I think I'm going to work at one of the soul food restaurants."
Major looked like the older identical twin of Seven. He was about six feet, five or six inches tall. He was dark like Seven, but instead of having brown eyes, his eyes are a crazy mixture of gray, green and blue. He wore his hair in long dreadlocks that hung below his waist. He was dressed in the best of Giorgio Armani men's wear and wore Armani glasses that were slightly tinted forest green to match his suit.
"Any particular one?”
"Black Barry's," I said.
"Ooo-wee! Now, that's some good soul food. Although I don't think even they could top this." He looked at Birdie for confirmation.
She shook her head.
"Not even close," she said, spearing a large shrimp with her fork. "This is heavenly."
"Well, when you go work there, we'll be there all the time," Major promised. I smiled. "You know, the original owner died not too long ago. He was a good man. We had done a little business a while back, and he never forgot a name. Invited Birdie and I to eat at Black Barry's on the house. Really good man. And a rich one, too. I sold that man a small building about ten years ago, and he turned it into a bar. I look up five years later, and it's a Sports bar. Then three years after that, his business was so good that he expanded, and before I knew it, there were six Huckle Barry's Sport's Bars and three Black Barry Soul Food Restaurants."
My eyes met Seven's.
"You knew him?" I asked quietly.
"Sure did. And we belonged to the same country club, too. He would crack me up with those stories about his brother, Meestake." I dabbed at my eyes with a napkin and looked at Seven, who smiled in understanding. "I forget his wife's name." My head snapped up. I looked at Trish. "Pretty white woman." I breathed a sigh of relief. "She was before you," he said, waving Trish off with his large hand.
"Marcella," I said.
"That's it!"
"Classy white woman, too. Always dressed. Always smelled good. And just as polite as she wanted to be," he said, looking at Trish out the corner of his eye.
"Yes, she was." Birdie joined in. "Marcie and I used to play tennis together. Of course, the relationship wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Marcie was very unhappy. She loved Barry, but she often cried to me that he just didn't have time for her. They were both good people though."
"Marcie. That was her name. Then we never saw Marcie again, and he showed up with ‘this’ on his arm," Major said, indicating Trish, more to himself than anyone else.
"Dad ..." Seven began.
"But how did you know that, Bari?" He looked at me thoughtfully, then realization crept into his eyes. "Bari." I nodded. "You were just a girl. A little girl that wanted to follow her daddy everywhere he went," he said quietly, then smiled. "You look just like your daddy, too." I wiped at a tear that escaped from my eye. He seemed to be deep in thought. "So, if you're Barry's daughter, then that means ..." He looked at his wife. Together, they're eyes settled on Trish. "This is your step-daughter?"
"Was," Trish said, sounding lame as hell.
"Hold on." Everyone got quiet as Major started to speak. Seven's parents had no idea that Trish was with Seven before Darshon. I had a feeling it was all about to come out. "Something ain't right here." Seven, Darshon, Trish and I all exchanged glances. "First of all, I wasn't exactly ecstatic about my twenty-two year old son being with a sixteen year old." For the first time since he had started eating, Major had stopped. He must have read my mind, realized it too, and picked up his fork again. He stabbed it into a yam, closed his eyes in ecstasy as he chewed it then swallowed, and continued. "Let alone this boy and this girl," he said, referring to Darshon and Trish with a disgusted look on his face. “Now, don't get me wrong, Bari. I think Seven picked a damn good girl, no matter what your age is. You carry yourself like a grown woman, and you take good care of my boy. Now, when he first told us, we had plenty to say, but now that we've met you...well, welcome to the family."
Seven looked at me and smiled.
"Thank you” I said.
"Is it more than coincidence that you and Darshon ended up with these two ladies? And it seems like things got reversed somewhere along the road."
He waited for someone to elaborate.
"How 'bout we go to the den?" Seven suggested.
His father ate the last bite of his spaghetti, the last bit of food left on his plate and set his napkin down.
"I'll be back for that dessert, Bari," he assured me with a smile.
"Would you like coffee with that?" I asked, remembering how my daddy loved black coffee with his dessert.
"I'm loving this girl. Yes, please."
"Black?"
"Black as me." He laughed, then stood up to follow his son. "And what are you still sitting your ass there for? Ain't you a man?" He asked Darshon, who looked helplessly at his mother, then followed.
"So Trish, you sure are quiet. That's a first. Everything alright?"
Trish nodded, "Yes, Birdie. Everything is fine."
"Good. And maybe now that you own the bars and the restaurants, Trish, you can help Darshon get a job," she suggested.
&nb
sp; "I don't own them. Bari does," Trish said quietly.
"Really? Well, isn't that something. That was a very wise decision on your father's part, Bari. He made sure that you'd always be well taken care of."
I nodded.
"I'm really looking forward to the day that I can work at Black Barry's. I've already talked to Leon, he's the manager at the one closest to here, in the Palisades. He was a friend of my father, and he says I can start whenever I'm ready."
"I bet he's a little nervous about being the employer of the owner," she laughed.
"He said the same thing, but I just want to work there because I love to cook. He knows that though. I cooked dinner for him and my father when I was thirteen."
“Seven says you learned from your grandmother?" I nodded.
"And our housekeeper, Mrs. Nielsen. She taught me a lot, too, but the soul food really came from Big Mama."
She glanced in Trish's direction, looked exasperated then said, "I really wish you would cheer up. You look so depressed. It's catching. You're ruining the meal looking so pitiful."
"Birdie, what kind of work do you do?" I asked.
"I don't work. I'm one of those stay at home wives everyone keeps raving about."
She was a beautiful lady; medium complexion, about five feet, ten inches tall. She was what my daddy would have called regal. Her hair was twisted into a perfect chignon at the nape of her long neck. Her make-up was meticulously applied, and her Anne Klein pantsuit was the perfect fit. She looked like one of the women in my Essence magazine, or a fashion fair model.
"Excuse me, please." I said, and went to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.
I wasn't away from the table a whole three minutes before I heard Birdie's voice.
"I don't believe you! Seven would never take his brother's girlfriend! That's a lie!" I hurried back to the dining room. "Bari?" Birdie began. Trish stared guiltily around like she was looking for something. Seven, Major and Darshon showed up right after me. "Is that true Bari?” Birdie demanded. “Were you with Darshon first?"
"What the hell is going on in here?" Seven asked. "And hell naw, she wasn't with Darshon first."
"What! With Darshon first!" Major roared.
Crazy In Love With A Thug: Bari and Seven Page 11