“What!”
“Ashley, I’ve got you and Mona on three-way.”
“Hey, ladies.”
“How are you doing?” bellowed Mona.
“Sylvia told you about last night, I see. The baby and I are fine.”
“So what happened?” Sylvia asked. “I drove around the corner and came back a couple of times after you went inside.”
“So you checked on me. Thanks, Sylvia. William said that he was going to be a father to this baby. Said he was coming home and the divorce decree was just a piece of paper—that he paid a lot of money for, mind you—and it couldn’t dictate to grown folks. That’s what we were arguing about because it was very clear to me sitting before that judge that he was happy to get that piece of paper. And since he got what he wanted there was no need for him to come home.”
“I had you pegged wrong, Ashley,” Mona said. “You’re a tough white sister. Can hold your own. How about that, Sylvia? I hear another car, hold on.”
“What’s that all about?” Ashley inquired.
“She’s got a dinner date tonight with her Caribbean king,” Sylvia said.
“I’m back on the line, heifer. Sylvia’s hating, Ashley, because she don’t have a man and I do.”
“I thought Kenny was back in your life?” Ashley asked.
“She’s better off without him.” Mona moaned.
“Forget you. What is this? Rachel’s calling. Hey Rachel, you are on a conference call. Mona and Ashley are on.”
“Ohh. We’re having a meeting and you didn’t tell me?” Rachel mimicked Marvin.
“Sounds like a re-run,” Sylvia said. “But I’m glad that you and your man have worked it out.”
“Guys, I’m in love.”
“Ohhh, I’m happy for you, Rachel,” Ashley crowed.
“Here we go again with this love thing.” Sylvia sighed.
“Who else is in love?”
“I am, Rachel. I am falling in love with Michael.”
“But Mona, didn’t you just meet him?”
“That’s what I was trying to tell her,” Sylvia put in.
“Isn’t this what Ex-Files was supposed to do, Sylvia? Help us to move past our hurt and pain? And if we find love in the meantime, I don’t think that’s a bad thing. What do you other ladies think?”
“I slept with William last night,” Ashley confessed. “And…I let him come back home. It’s just temporary—to see how things go.”
“You did what, missy? After all the worrying I did over you. Couldn’t sleep.” Sylvia snorted in disgust.
“Well, I am carrying his child.”
“Ashley got her some.” Mona laughed. “You go, girl; I ain’t mad at you ’cuz I’m going to try and get me some, too.”
“I heard that…,” Rachel cooed softly.
“I don’t believe it. Hold on, it’s Claudette. Hey…Claudette. Everyone is on the line—Ashley, Mona, and Rachel.”
“Having a meeting without me?” Claudette asked.
Everyone broke into laughter.
“Look, I just wanted to tell you all that Kwame is home thanks to Marvin. I don’t know what to say but thank you all for being there for me…and T.”
“Don’t tell me you two are getting back together, too,” Mona sang.
“And would that be a bad thing, Mona? We’re concerned about our family. I’ve got issues with Reebe. I just want to kill her. If it wasn’t for Tyrone, she would be dead.
“Had the nerve to come waltzing back home like nothing happened. Didn’t even ask about Kwame. Oooooooh, I could barely look at her. She gave me one of her flippant looks when I asked her what happened yesterday, and then shrugged her shoulders at me and said, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Made me so mad. I tried to jump her because she knew good and well what I was talking about. Tyrone was back in high school playing football because he tackled me before I let loose on that girl.”
“Claudette, could you hurry up?” Mona whined. “Michael is pulling up in the driveway, but I want to hear the rest of this.”
“Go tend to your man. I’m about finished.”
Mona sucked her teeth.
“Go on, Claudette,” Ashley prompted.
“Tyrone and I talked about it, and I’m going to take Reebe to a counselor. In fact, we all need to go to counseling. I’m going to have to depend on Tyrone for a minute until I get my business back on track. You know, it felt good having him worry about me and take matters into his hands.”
“Ashley slept with William,” Rachel said.
“What?” Claudette hollered.
“Claudette, he felt good next to me and our baby.”
“Shut up,” Claudette hollered again.
“Look, gotta go,” Mona interrupted. “My man is ringing my bell. Talk to you heifers later. Ashley and Claudette, put a check mark up there for me, too. Bye.”
EX-plain this to Me
“Sylvia, we need to talk.”
“No hello? No how are you doing, Sylvia? It’s been awhile, Sylvia? Arial, you disappoint me.”
“Honey, we need to talk…”
“About my head. I know. I’m terribly overdue.”
“Sylvia, are the rumors true? Are you and Kenny an item?”
Sylvia rolled her eyes. She came to relax and get her head massaged…not answer a battery of questions that happen to be no one’s concern but hers.
“Would you scratch my head here, Arial?” Sylvia pointed to the spot with her index finger.
Popwent Arial’s comb. Sylvia withdrew her hand quickly and kissed her knuckles.
“There will be no tip for you today. Naughty girls are not rewarded.”
“Depends on what the naughty girl is doing. Back to the subject.”
“Arial, I don’t want to talk—”
“You can hide behind the bush if you want, but your secret is written on the side of every MARTA train, the bathroom stalls at the Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta Airport, on the walls of the King Center and on the menus at Gladys’ Chicken and Waffles. Everybody knows, girl.”
“You’re exaggerating, Arial.”
“I don’t know how you failed to give me this little tidbit. Such an important piece of information, and I had to hear it from the lips of gossiping clients. Sister, I was there way back when. Remember? Yeah, you remember because Kenny twisted your brain inside out, and you couldn’t eat, sleep or function.”
“Hmph. Aren’t you the pot calling the kettle black. I heard your ex, Lawrence, was in the shop last week. Come to get ablow job?”
Arial yanked the blow-dryer off the counter and turned it on full blast into Sylvia’s face, although she made sure it was several inches away. “Oh, you want to be a nasty little heifer, too. This conversation isn’t about me and Lawrence. It’s about you and Kenny.”
“Is there a point to this? I’ve got a function this afternoon. In fact, you need to buy a barbecue dinner—no, two—from me.”
Arial turned off the blow-dryer. “Look, you’ve proved my point. You’ve forgotten all those painful times when I had to nurse you and your hair back to health. Hair was so thin, it would break off if you looked at it.”
“Hmmm,” Sylvia muttered. “Look in your own mirror.”
“I’m not through. That man was no good—”
“Hold it, Arial. Let me be the judge. Kenny is a changed man, and I think I’m falling in love with him.”
“What, what, what did you say? My Lord, I know you didn’t utter something about falling in love with Kenny.”
“How’s that for news?” Sylvia said snugly.
“They call me the psychiatrist, the psychoanalyst, the motivator, the black Ann Landers. I’m here for whatever ails you, but I don’t have any words for you. You’re going to have to help yourself.”
“Maybe you didn’t hear me. The only help I need is from the hairdresser. So unwind that person from your list of personalities and tell her to get to work on my head. And if the psychiatrist wants to say anything, please put some ta
pe across her mouth. Now, I’m a paying customer, and you’ve wasted twenty minutes of my valuable time.”
“Oooooookay,” said the muffled voice.
Sylvia laughed until she almost fell out of the chair.
Arial led Sylvia to the sink and washed her hair without one of her super-duper massages. She wrapped a towel around Sylvia’s head and marched her over to her chair. She picked up the blow-dryer and began to dry Sylvia’s head. She didn’t say another word about Kenny.
“I need ten dollars for two dinners,” Sylvia said to a now quiet Arial. “Claudette Beasley’s shop burned down last weekend. We’re having a barbecue fund-raiser to help her with expenses.”
“I heard about that. I’ll give you the ten dollars only if you can give me a guarantee that you won’t make her salon your home.”
“Arial, how long have I been coming to you?”
“Sylvia, I’ve sculptured your mop into what it looks like today. Took a long time to cultivate, and I still have skills.”
“Need I say more?”
Brrng, brrng, brrng.“That’s my cell,” Sylvia said.
Arial turned off the dryer. Fighting with Sylvia had exhausted her.
“Excuse me,” Sylvia said. “Hi, Kenny. I’ll be ready in…” Sylvia looked into Arial’s pouting face…“about twenty minutes. See you then, sweetie.”
Arial twirled the irons and curled Sylvia’s hair without another word.
Sylvia slipped on her sunglasses and pulled her BMW away from the curb in front of Mane Waves. Arial had gotten on her nerves today, but her hair looked good. Yeah, Arial was good for another ten years.
It was a beautiful day for a fund-raiser. The sun scorched the sky with its brilliance. The flowers sang the sun’s praises, showing off petals in pastel colors that waved to the sky, while tall pine trees lifted their branches in honor.
A smile marked Sylvia’s face.Secrets , Arial had said. There were no secrets. Simply put, she and Kenny had gone out on a couple of dates. There was no intimacy, no…
Sylvia drove onto I-85. A large black-and-white cow with a milk mustache over its mouth loomed on the billboard in front of her. Images of Kenny draped in her black-and-white polka-dot robe came rushing back to her. She laughed out loud.
Kenny was going to meet her at her house before going to the barbecue. Sylvia’s contribution was four German chocolate cakes. It made her feel good that the group would work together to help Claudette get back on her feet.
Thoughts of Kenny invaded Sylvia’s mind and wouldn’t let go. Going to the fund-raiser with him validated what her heart was feeling, but she wondered whether she was with Kenny because everyone doubted their relationship and she had something to prove. Love seemed to have blanketed everyone—Rachel and Marvin, Mona and Michael—but eluded her. Sylvia dropped the thoughts from her mind and exited the freeway toward Stone Mountain.
When Sylvia pulled into her driveway, the first thing she saw was Kenny Richmond’s silver Acura parked off to one side. She adjusted her sunglasses, looked in the rearview mirror and flipped her hair with her hands. Before she could get out of the car, the door handle clicked, and Kenny—dressed in a black crocheted knit top and white shorts—held the door open. Sylvia could hardly contain herself as she cruised this man’s body from his sandaled feet, past the muscular, taught legs and the well-chiseled chest she remembered so well to the top of his curly head. And the way he wrapped his hand around her arm caused her butterfly alarm to go off.
Sylvia got out of the car. She tried to rush past the gorgeous man, but he had already read her vibes. Kenny quickly put his arm around Sylvia’s waist and drew her to him.
“Not outside in front of the neighbors,” Sylvia said with a frown.
“It’s not as if you’re cheating on your husband,” he pointed out. But he dropped his arm and followed her into the house.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not ready to share you with the world, although Arial says that everybody in Atlanta knows that we…”
“We what? I’m anxious to know myself,” Kenny pushed.
“That we’re an item.”
“Are we an item?”
“Let’s go in the house, Mr. Richmond. You can put the cakes in the car while I change into something cool. We’ve got to hurry because Marvin said we were going to start serving right at eleven.”
“Do you need help getting into something cool?”
“Kenny Richmond, get those cakes into the car. I’m a big girl, and I don’t need any help.”I wish you could help me with the way I feel because I’m falling in love with you. Sylvia watched as Kenny lifted the boxes with the cakes and headed outside. He was gentle. He was kind. He was a changed man.
Everyone was there when Sylvia and Kenny arrived. Rachel turned toward Mona and whispered something in her ear, blocking the view of her lips with her hand. Mona mimicked Rachel but added an extra eye roll. Sylvia dismissed them both.
Two large barreled grills stood in the parking lot of where Claudette’s shop used to be. The sizzle of the meat made Sylvia smack her lips as she drew near, and Marvin raised his head only for a second to nod hello, before picking up a long-handled two-pronged fork to turn over a slab of ribs. Pork and beef ribs, chicken and links were being prepared. There was a large pot of collard greens, grilled corn on the cob, Mona’s fabulous baked beans, bean casserole, and Rachel’s potato salad. The aroma was already sending signals throughout the neighborhood.
Claudette prepared dinners to go for those who’d paid ahead. Tyrone was the deliveryman, Kwame his assistant. There was a line of twenty deep—women dressed in cut-offs and short-shorts; neon-colored halter tops; orange, yellow, and blue flip-flops; and leather sandals, while men were dressed in colorful T-shirts, shorts and jogging shorts from Nike to Adidas. Some were Claudette’s beauty shop patrons while others were families from the area who wanted to help restore an important landmark in their neighborhood.
As people inched up through the line, fingers pointed to where the shop once stood, recalling the night of the blaze. Others murmured about Kwame and how the police found him at the scene of the crime and arrested him. But the ultimate goal was to get some of that lip-smacking barbecue that you could smell for more than a mile. Some had already been through the line but had come back to get plates for others after sharing firsthand how tasty Marvin’s ribs were.
Mona, Rachel, and Sylvia served dressed in picnic aprons over shorts and pastel-colored tees. Every now and then Michael would inch his way up around Mona and peck her on the cheek and rub her backside. He was way overdressed—slacks and a long-sleeved shirt—and stayed as far away from the barbecue sauce as he could.
After the last preorder had been prepared, Claudette joined the others.
“Where is Ashley?” Claudette asked. “Has anyone heard from her today? She was supposed to bring her apple dumpling cake that she’s always raving about.”
“Maybe she didn’t feel well or she was still taking care of her baby’s daddy,” Mona put in.
“Can you be serious for once, Mona?” Claudette asked.
“Oooh, aren’t we a little huffy. I’ve been slaving all night over the stove just for you and you want to get—eh—on me.”
“Come on, Mona,” Rachel said. “She’s truly concerned about Ashley and so am I.”
“I have her phone number,” Sylva said. She whipped her cell phone from her pocket and dialed Ashley’s number. It rang several times before Sylvia left a voice message. “Ashley didn’t answer. She’s probably on her way.”
“I see you’re still hanging in there with your male pal,” Mona quipped.
“At least I’m not running off with a man I hardly know.”
“Okay, ladies,” Rachel said. “We have people in line and they can hear you. And it’s not good for business.”
“You’re right,” Sylvia offered. She placed a wrapped piece of German chocolate cake into the next person’s hand.
“Don’t I know you?” Rachel asked the youn
g lady who held out her plate for a spoon of potato salad.
“You’re…you’re the lady from the spa. Yes, I remember. I gave you a facial.”
“Yes,” Rachel said. “Anika…right? I do apologize for not getting back with you about our support group. In fact, most of our members are here today. The fund-raiser is to support the lady whose beauty shop burned down.”
“Who, Ms. Claudette?”
“You know Claudette?”
“Yes, she’s my hairdresser.”
“Well, she’s one of our members and the group is out here helping her.”
“That’s so wonderful. I really do want to join.”
“You can, little lady,” Marvin said, coming up behind Rachel. “I’m the cook, and I’ll be hosting the next meeting of the Ex-Files.” He hugged Rachel.
Anika looked puzzled.
“Anika, this is Marvin Thomas. He’s also a member of the group. He’s a testament that the support group works.”
Anika continued to look puzzled. And then she said, “Ooooooooooh, I see.”
“Look, our next meeting is the second Sunday in August. Rachel, get her number so we can contact her and give her directions. Here’s my business card in case you have any questions before then. I’ve got to get back to the grill; that line hasn’t let up.”
“Can I bring someone with me?” Anika asked.
“I’m sure it will be okay. It was good to see you, and you’ll be hearing from me.”
“Thank you, Rachel. And your complexion still looks good.”
“Thank you.”
“I think we’re doing good,” Claudette said to the ladies. “Thanks to Marvin’s genius.”
“Here, here,” Rachel said.
Tyrone whipped into the driveway and got out of the car. He adjusted his baseball cap and moved toward the ladies. Seconds later, Kwame joined him at his side. They moved to where Claudette was standing, excited about the success of the day. Tyrone moved closer and wrapped his arm around Claudette’s shoulders.
Three pairs of eyes shifted at the same time. They weren’t sure what to make of this display of affection. Claudette hadn’t even made an attempt to free herself of Tyrone’s embrace. The group smiled. If the Ex-Files were meant to draw families back together, so be it. Claudette, Tyrone and Kwame—a picture worthy of a frame.
Ex-Terminator Life After Marriage Page 16