Love Frustration

by RM Johnson

  A few minutes later, Belinda stuck her head back in the room, making Asha almost jump out of her skin.

  “Thanks, again,” she said, and then left.

  “Okay. Bye,” Asha blew, slumping back in the chair. She kicked one of her legs over the arm of the chair, let her head fall back until the top of her skull hit the wall, and went back to trying to find a way out of all this. Then she heard a noise. Asha quickly pulled her head up to find Les standing in front of her, smiling mischievously.

  “What do you want?” Asha said, sneering, after Les didn’t say anything, just continued to stand there smiling.

  “Hmmm,” Les said, rubbing her chin. “What was that you said? ‘I don’t swing that way,’” she said, in a baby’s voice, mocking Asha. “It sho’ looked like you were swinging that way earlier, baby,” Les said, laughing to herself. “Looked like you were swinging that way, like you were born with a little rope in your hand made just for swinging. Know what I’m sayin’?” Les started to pace in front of Asha. “But I can’t blame you, because that piece you had on the table was fine as hell. I would’ve went down on her myself. I bet that pussy tastes good, don’t it?” she said, stopping in front of Asha, sticking her face in Asha’s face. “Or did I interrupt you two before you could get your hot little tongue all up in there.”

  Les was still smiling, making a joke of all this, while Asha sat there, anger starting to rage within her, but she knew she could do nothing but sit there and take it. Les had her right where she wanted her.

  Les stepped away from her, and started her pacing again, her big fat hands folded behind her back, as if she was questioning a witness.

  “So how long you been eating pussy, Asha?”

  “I don’t—”

  “I seen you with my own two eyes,” Les said, pointing to them. “But what I should be asking you is, how long you been eating the pussies of your clients?”

  “What the fuck do you want!” Asha said, shooting from her chair.

  “No, no, no,” Les said, shaking her head, waving a finger at Asha. “It’s not what I want, but what Phillipe Cozi wants. How did you put it? ‘I don’t think that’s behavior befitting an employee of Phillipe Cozi.’ Is that what you said, Asha? Something like that.”

  “Cut to the motherfucking chase, fat girl,” Asha said, frowning, ready to attack Les if she hadn’t known for sure that she’d get her ass beat.

  “Oh, so you’re talking about my weight now. But that’s okay, sweet thang. Because you’re gonna love all this fat ass before we’re through.” Les rubbed her chin thoughtfully, and looked up toward the ceiling. “I think now that we’ve established that you’re just as much of a dyke as I am, and I caught you in here on your knees about to give one of your clients a tongue bath, I’d think you’d want to keep that quiet. What do you think?”

  “What do you want?” Asha spat.

  “I want the same thing that lucky girl was about to get. But not no twenty-minute quickie. I want it for as long as I want it, whenever I want it.”

  “Fuck that,” Asha said, sitting back down. “That shit won’t happen.”

  “Oh it won’t. I think you better think about that, baby. You could lose your job for not wanting to do what you were about to do anyway.”

  “Fuck you, Les. I can work anywhere.”

  “Oh, you’re probably right,” Les said, turning toward the door. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to do that, because when I leave this room, I’m going straight to Margee’s office.” She went to grab the door when Asha said, “Hold it. Wait.”

  “Yeeesssssssss,” Les said, turning and smiling.

  “I’ll do it. You’ll have me for one hour.”

  “One week,” Les said.

  “Hell no. One day,” Asha said, still knowing that it would never happen, but she needed something to put Big Les on pause while she thought this whole thing through.

  Les looked as though she was giving it thought.

  “Take it, or you and this job can go to hell.”

  “Hmmm, you being my bitch for twenty-four hours. All right. I can roll with that. Friday night, brush your teeth, have your pussy smelling fresh, and no bra or underwear. I don’t like fucking with details. We’ll leave from here, and go wherever the hell I want. Till then, sweetheart.”

  The next day, Les didn’t come to work, which Asha was thankful for. She was probably at home, playing with herself, fantasizing about the night she thought she would have with Asha. But there was no way in the world that shit was going to go down. It just couldn’t. But was she ready to lose her job? Asha allowed herself to see the image of her head in between Big Les’s legs, and she almost heaved that very moment. She quickly kicked the thought out of her head. She needed to find her way out of this. She needed to talk to Angie, see what she thought about this. Asha had called her already three times today. She hadn’t called back, and Asha was just starting to get worried when she heard, “Asha Mills, line seven. Asha Mills, line seven,” on the overhead speakers.

  Asha quickly picked up the phone. “This is Asha.”

  “I just got your messages,” Angie said. “You don’t sound too good. What’s going on?”

  “I’m not too good. Everything is fucked up, and this heifer is threatening my job. She wants me to … she wants …” Asha said, sounding nearly hysterical, unable to get all the words out.

  “Asha, look. I have to go right now, but don’t worry. Everything is going to be all right. Let’s meet tonight, and we’ll figure it all out then, all right?”

  Asha was breathing hard, trying to calm herself down. “Yeah. All right.”

  “Now, I have some things to do, so it won’t be till late, but I’ll call you. Cool?”

  “Yeah, cool.”

  “You all right, baby?”

  “Yeah, but I’ll be better when I see you.”

  It was 11:30 P.M. and Asha and Angie were sitting inside Red’s, a casual lounge on Stony Island Avenue, listening to old R&B tunes. Asha was finishing her third Long Island iced tea, Angie had had a couple of glasses of wine. They had been talking for an hour and a half, and Asha was starting to feel a little better. Angie didn’t tell her exactly what she had planned, but reassured her. “I’ll work something out. Don’t you worry. Like I said, I’ve dealt with people like her before, and I always come out on top. All right?” Angie said, resting a hand on Asha’s shoulder, then touching her cheek.

  “All right, but like I said, something needs to be done by Friday, because that’s when she thinks we’re getting together.”

  “I know, Asha. It’s Wednesday. That gives me all of tomorrow. That’s plenty of time. Now let’s get you home, before you pass out on that stool,” and Asha laughed, but that very well could’ve happened, considering how light and fuzzy her head was feeling. She got up from the stool, stumbling, and would’ve hit the floor if Angie hadn’t grabbed her.

  “Oh yeah. It’s time to get you home.”

  It was a short drive to Asha’s apartment. She would’ve had Angie drop her off a block away so that Jayson wouldn’t see them together, but Asha thought she would have enough trouble walking from the car to the front door, let alone from the next block. Besides, it was just about midnight, and she knew Jayson was always in bed by ten-thirty or so.

  “There it is, right there, 1343,” Asha said, tapping the windshield of the car, pointing to her apartment. “All right, Angie. I’ll wait to hear from you,” Asha said. Then she felt for the door handle, opened the door, and almost fell out of the car.

  “Hold it, hold it,” Angie said, getting out of her side, slamming her door, and rushing over to grab Asha. She carefully put her hands under Asha’s arms and pulled her up. Asha got to her feet, and Angie leaned her against the car.

  “Baby, are you okay?” Angie said, grabbing her cheeks between her two palms.

  “Yeah, I guess I just had one, two, or three too many Long Islands,” Asha said, smiling, and then the smile all of a sudden disappeared from her face.<
br />
  “What?” Angie said.

  “Have you been thinking about what we talked about? You’ve been thinking about it, right?”

  “Asha, baby, this is not the time.”

  “You won’t leave me, will you?”

  “Asha, we’re just fine right now. Okay?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, let me walk you in.”

  “No. That’s okay. I can make it, really. I just had to get my bearings.”

  “All right, but I’m going to watch you until you get inside.”

  “Okay,” Asha said, sounding like a tired two-year-old. She was about to turn and go, but Angie wouldn’t let her.

  “What? I don’t get a hug goodbye?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Asha said, falling into Angie’s arms, squeezing her. When they were finished, they pulled away from each other, smiling.

  “And what about a kiss?” Angie said.

  Asha frowned a little. “But I’ve been drinking. I’ve got to smell like a bottle of something.”

  “Don’t be stupid, and give me a kiss, girl.”

  Asha smiled, and let Angie pull her face close until their lips touched, and they were kissing passionately.

  Meanwhile, upstairs, Jayson had been sleeping for about an hour and a half, but it never failed—just when he was about to really get into some serious sleep, he would feel that pesky poking at his bladder, and he would have to get up and relieve himself. He really needed to stop drinking that glass of water before bed.

  Jayson stood over the toilet, shaking away the last few drops that never seemed to want to fall free, when he heard a car door slam outside of the apartment. He flushed the toilet and walked slowly, blindly, through the dark apartment. He parted the curtains slightly, looked out the window, and saw a huge Mercedes, and a woman rushing around the car to help a younger woman who appeared to be falling out of the passenger door. The woman helped prop the girl up against the car, and Jayson could see that it was Asha and that she was drunk.

  He chuckled to himself, knowing that in the morning if he went down there, she would be talking that nonsense about how she’s never going to drink again, like she always had in the past.

  Jayson let his eyes rest on the woman who was talking to Asha. She wasn’t that bad a looker. Actually, she was pretty. Jayson wondered why Asha had never introduced him to that one.

  Asha stumbled away but was pulled back to give the other woman a hug, which was so typical of women, Jayson thought. Men don’t give hugs. Men give dap. Why don’t women just give dap too? He mused to himself, and then Jayson thought that there must’ve been globs of sleep still in his eyes or that he had not really awakened at all, because he could’ve not been seeing what he thought he was. Asha, the woman he’d known so well for so many years, and loved, was down there, her tongue buried in this other woman’s mouth. They were hugging and kissing, and feeling all over one another, like they loved each other, or something.

  “Now see. You didn’t taste that bad,” Angie said, wiping some of her lipstick off Asha’s mouth.

  “If you say so,” Asha said.

  “You sure you can make it?

  “Yeah. I’m fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. And thanks, Angie,” Asha said, turning to walk toward the apartment.

  Jayson had almost thrown himself to the floor trying not to be seen when Asha turned around. He hadn’t been seen, but what had he just witnessed? It was a stupid question, he told himself. He wasn’t a fool, or a naÏve child, and he was starting to put two and two together. This was the reason why Asha didn’t want to go out with him last time he came by. Come to think of it, she’d seemed a bit reluctant to go out all those other times as well. He couldn’t believe it, and he told himself not to. But was this the reason why she’d seemed so distant years ago with him, why she was distant with Gill. Jayson closed his eyes, threw the thought out of his head. It couldn’t be. She’s my best friend, he thought. She would’ve told me something as serious as this. She wouldn’t have deceived me for all those years, told me lies like that. She just wouldn’t have.

  But there was no denying it, something was going on. He had proof. She was seeing that woman who was driving away, and Jayson didn’t know to what extent, but it was more than just friends. Asha had lied to him, like he thought she never had or never would. He had trusted her in the past, was trusting her now, and look what she had done to him, betrayed him just like Faith had.

  29

  It had to be a dream, I thought sitting up in bed. Asha wasn’t kissing some woman outside my building last night. I placed a hand to my head, assessing the condition it was in. Had I been drinking? No. I hadn’t even gone out last night. Was it some strange fantasy that was always hiding in my subconscious and finally decided to show itself in my dream? I didn’t think so, because that had never been a fantasy of mine, and I distinctly remembered getting up to use the bathroom, and then …

  I was ready to rush down the stairs and confront her, ask her what the hell was going on. But something stopped me. It wasn’t the right time, for I was far too angry, and judging by the way she was wobbling around outside, she was far too drunk to make any sense anyway. I told myself I’d let her sleep it off, and confront her about it in the morning.

  But now, getting up, and looking over at the clock, I saw that it was already after nine, and I knew that she had gone to work by now. I pulled myself out of bed, slid on some jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt, and just paced about the house for a while.

  I should’ve eaten something, but my stomach was still twisted in knots from what I’d seen last night. I walked over to the phone, picked it up, and dialed Asha’s work number. Something had to be said to her. I had to find out what was going on, and for just how long it had been going on.

  “Phillipe Cozi Day Spa,” a cheery voice answered.

  I didn’t say anything, wondering if this was the right way to handle this situation or not.

  “Good morning, this is Phillipe Cozi Day Spa.”

  I hung up the phone on whoever that was who was so happy to be working at Phillipe Cozi. This wasn’t something that I needed to be confronting her about while she was at work, or discussing over the phone. I had to address this shit face-to-face. I’d just wait till she came home. I’d be downstairs, sitting on the outside steps waiting for her cab to pull up, and we’d get to the bottom of this, I thought.

  I ended my pacing in front of the sofa, and for lack of anything else to do, I sat down. It was silent, and I stared at the walls around me. I didn’t want to think about it, but it was happening to me again, this time with Asha. No, it wasn’t exactly the same thing. We weren’t engaged to get married, and no I didn’t catch her butt naked with that woman, but they were kissing, and kissing usually came as a thank-you after the act was done, or as a teaser in preparation for.

  A quick image of Faith and Gary flashed through my head, both their faces contorted in pleasure. Then I saw a quick glimpse of Asha down there on the front lawn, her head twisting and turning, her tongue sloppily dipping into the other woman’s mouth, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I shot up off that sofa, knowing I had to do something, had to find out why this was happening to me. Why she would do such a thing.

  I raced toward the front door, grabbing my keys off the kitchen counter as I passed them. I ended up downstairs at Asha’s door, knocking softly at first, then banging relatively hard.

  There was no answer, and then I did what I’d told myself I would never do. I slipped my master key into her door, and walked into her apartment with the intent to look through her things.

  “Asha, are you in here?” I called, thinking up some kind of lie I could tell her, if indeed she was still there.

  I stood there in the living room, feeling strange again to be there without her being in the place with me, or without her at least knowing I was there. I shouldn’t be doing this, I told myself, but I had to. I had to find out something.

  I glanced over everything that was out, that
was open. Loose change atop the television, a pack of gum and a beaded bracelet on the coffee table.

  I walked over toward the kitchen, saw a crumpled piece of paper on the counter. I opened it, saw some numbers scribbled across it, balled it up again, and placed it back. I opened the fridge, half expecting to see a huge strap-on dildo sitting there in the middle of it, between the gallon of skim milk, and the leftovers from last night. When I didn’t see anything more than I normally saw, I closed the door, leaned my back against it, and shook my head.

  “Why, Asha?” I said aloud, disappointed, not so much because I caught her kissing another woman, than in the fact that I caught her. Why didn’t she just tell me? I’d thought we were as close as two people could be.

  Next I went into the bathroom and riffled through the cabinets both under and over the sink, finding nothing but what women normally have in their cabinets. Crap for hair, crap for nails, lotions, ointments, and gels that smell like every fruit and every combination of fruit imaginable. I encountered huge pads for heavy flow days, and thin napkins for when there’s just a trickle, and all sorts of remedies for PMS that don’t work one bit. There was nothing there that gave me any info, any insight, into what led her in the direction she was going in and why she felt the need to hide it from me.

  I went toward the bedroom next, halting within the doorway. Just a week ago, I was in here, and we were making love, and now look what’s happening. I considered leaving, but only for a moment, still feeling compelled to find something that would explain her actions.

  I walked over to the bed, looked at it suspiciously for a moment, then sat down gently on it. I smoothed my palm over it, stopping there in the center of the bed, wondering if that woman had ever been here, pressing my palm deeper into the blankets, as if I could’ve felt her warmth.

  I stood, yanked back those blankets, examining the sheets, feeling foolish, feeling guilty, but also feeling justified. I went to the dresser, pulled out all the drawers, and went through each of them from the bottom, where her jeans and sweaters were, to the top, where her lingerie, socks, and wraps for her hair were. Inside the last top drawer, I found her address book. I quickly picked it up, flipped backward through the pages, seeing numbers scribbled all about, some in pencil, some in ink, black and red, but not knowing which had relevance to me, and which ones didn’t. I closed the book, and tossed it behind me.