True Story

by Ni-Ni Simone

  An unexpected smile ran across my face.

  “Umm, hello.” Zaire clapped his hands to get my attention.

  If looks could kill, this dude would be casket-ready. “Don’t do that. I just told you that Khya and Bling were going through something.”

  “Khya? Bling? You and I are about to go through something.”

  I whipped my neck toward Zaire. “And what does that mean?”

  “It means that all of this texting is getting old real quick.”

  “Because I sent my friend two texts? Really? You can’t be serious with this.”

  “I’m dead serious. Now either you gon’ chill with me, your man, or you gon’ run and play with your girlfriend.”

  “Why we gotta be playing? There you go calling me a kid again!”

  “I didn’t call you a kid!”

  “Who else plays but a kid? You can miss me with that one, buddy. For real.”

  “Why are we arguing about me calling you a kid, when I never called you that? If I wanted to call you a kid, that’s what I would’ve said. But I didn’t. So drop it.”

  “Whatever.” I slid to one end of the couch and crossed my legs Indian-style.

  Zaire sat in the middle of the sofa and shook his head. “Is there something else going on? You wanna talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “Did you and your mom get into it again?”

  “No. She’s fine.”

  “Your classes cool?”

  “Yup.”

  “Your blog?”

  “Why are you asking me all of these questions?”

  “Because I feel like it’s something going on that we’re not talking about. I mean we’re arguing about stupid ish. That doesn’t even make sense.”

  Silence. For real, for real, what did he want me to say?

  “Something you want to tell me?” he pressed.

  “I just said no.”

  “You still want to chill or you want me to drop you off at your dorm?”

  Oh no, he didn’t! “You showing concern or you being a jerk?”

  “What the . . . Yo, what’s really good? Why are you making an issue out of everything I say?”

  “Because you’re talking too freakin’ much and you need to watch your mouth. Do I want to chill or get dropped off? Really. Oh, okay. I got you.” I looked at my watch. “I tell you what—I’ll catch the bus.” I stepped into my shoes and slid my Coach bag onto my shoulder.

  “The bus?” Zaire frowned. “What? I’m not letting you catch the bus.”

  “Psst, please. Watch me. Besides, this kid needs a minute.” And before Zaire could protest, I quickly walked out the door just as the bus pulled up. I hurried onto it. As I took my seat, I looked out the window in time to see Zaire watching me as the bus rode off into the distance.

  16

  Should I . . . ?

  “Stop the press and hold the mess.” Khya popped her lips as she pranced past my bedroom door and doubled back. She rocked a red, ultra-mini dress and held a pair of black stilettos in her hands. “Oh shucks nah, whaaaat? I must be seeing things. Seven, whatchu doin’ here? Is hell gon’ freeze over tonight?”

  “Funny.” I frowned and folded my legs Indian-style in the center of my bed. I reached for my iMac and started typing a new blog.

  “Did you just nix me, lollipop? Did something go down? We need to run up on somebody real quick? You know I have an emergency gris-gris kit that will drop a fool in five minutes. Just say the word and I will activate my status. Ya heardz me.”

  “I don’t need a gris-gris. And where are you going?”

  “Out,” Shae said as she walked into my room behind Khya, dressed in a money-green freakum dress, matching heels, and an arm full of gold bangles. “I need some gold eye shadow.” She took a seat at my vanity and searched my makeup bag. “What are you doing here on a Saturday night, Seven?”

  “I live here.”

  “Not on Saturdays. Usually on Saturday, you’re eating stale pizza and rockin’ a nightgown.”

  Khya laughed as she flopped down on the edge of my bed. “Now, Shae, you know on Saturdays she does a little more than that.”

  “Like what?” Shae arched a brow.

  “Like listen to Zaire’s UPS war stories and get her a good night’s sleep.”

  I sucked my teeth and flicked a hand carelessly. “Step off and mind yours. Now where are you two going?”

  “On a double date.” Khya slipped on her heels.

  Instantly I had an attitude. “A date? A double date? Like together? And nobody asked Seven?”

  “Yup. Yup. And Yup. Yup.” Khya twisted her left ankle from side to side, admiring her shoes. “You got it. Zaire doesn’t like us.”

  “At. All.” Shae popped open the eye shadow she wanted and dusted color onto her eyelids.

  Was it that obvious? “That’s not true. He just isn’t the outgoing type . . . anymore. Plus he has to work and take care of himself. And he feels like a whole lot of partying just isn’t . . . his thing.”

  “And how do you feel?” Khya asked. “Because I can remember a time when you loved to party.”

  “Here y’all go again. Let’s not talk about me. Let’s talk about how many double dates you two have been on without me.” And, yeah, I was pissed.

  “Three. And tonight will make four,” Shae said as she brushed mascara on.

  “Y’all real foul for that.” I rolled my eyes. “You couldn’t call and ask me if I wanted to go?”

  “For what? You never go. Anywhere.” Shae spun around on the vanity stool and faced me.

  “You could’ve still asked and given me the option to say no. That’s messed up. But it’s cool. Because now I see I have she-creeps for besties.”

  “Don’t get mad at us.”

  “How could y’all go without me?”

  “I got this, Shae,” Khya said. “We didn’t ask you because the last time we all went, Zaire acted extra shady. He hardly talked. And we didn’t want to be bothered with that anymore. And let’s not forget how the last time we asked why you don’t hang out with us anymore, you cussed us out.” Khya hopped up from the bed. “Now, how do I look? Hot-girl nasty?”

  “Ratchet.” I twisted my lips.

  “Stop hatin’.” Khya laughed.

  “You know you look cute. But I just can’t believe you two just dissed me. What kind of bestie behavior is that? I’m so pissed right now.”

  Shae said, as she faced the mirror and lined her eyes, “You can’t be pissed with us, because we never agreed to ride whatever wave you were on. Now let’s talk about the real issue here—why are you home?”

  “ ’Cause I live here.”

  “You’ve been living here, but that never stopped you from reporting to Zaire’s nursing home.”

  “Shae,” Khya said in disbelief, “I don’t believe you said that. Yeah, he’s boring. And old-head acting. And if Seven stays with him, she gon’ have a future filled with bare feet and them lil things women carry in their bellies, bust out their you-know-what, and love to death—”

  “Babies, Khya?”

  “Yeah, them. And anyhow, what you said about Zaire’s nursing home wasn’t right. It was funny as hello. But you were so wrong for that. Now, Seven, what’s the problem?”

  I sighed. “Well . . . umm . . .”

  Khya hopped up from the bed. “Did you catch him in the bed with another heifer and you had to kill him? Oh, Lawd, Jesus Christ, Saint Mary, and Radio Raheem. Where is the body?”

  “No. I didn’t kill him!”

  Khya sat back down and fanned her face. “Whew, girl. I was about to say we need to call my cousin Shy-Gator, ’cause he on that stuff and if you pay him twenty dollars he will pick up a whole house and move it for you. My grandmama pays him all the time to go handle things in the street for her. I be like, ‘Big Ma, did you have them jumped?’ And she be like, ‘Nope. Shy-Gator did it.’ So just say the word and we will handle it.”

  Silence.

  Dead silen
ce.

  “What?” Khya blinked. “Why y’all so quiet? Go on, Seven, tell us what’s wrong. I’m listening.”

  “You gon’ let me finish?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay, here goes. And please hold back the I-told-you-so’s. But . . . umm . . . I don’t exactly know how to feel about my relationship anymore.”

  “What? And why is that?” Shae asked.

  “Because . . . I don’t. All I know is that I’m bored. Ugh! And I know that sounds crazy. But I can tell you what Zaire is doing every minute of the day. And when we’re together, he does the same things over and over again. I don’t need that. I don’t want that. I just can’t deal with that anymore.”

  “So you want to break up with him?”

  “No. I don’t want to break up with him. I love him. But I just want him to loosen up.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  “Yeah. But he always says he has to work. And he has to go to school. He doesn’t have parents or anyone to fall back on.”

  “He doesn’t. And as his girlfriend you should understand that.”

  “I should understand that? I could’ve sworn you were just saying I don’t party enough. And then you two are going on double dates without me. Like we’re a trio and you two are acting like a duo. That is so whack!”

  “We’re not going on pause with you,” Khya insisted.

  “It’s not whack,” Shae snapped. “It’s us having fun. You made it very clear a little while ago that you were going to do you. Period. And we needed to fall back and accept it. So we did. Now you’re mad with us? Really? Where they do that at? Now if you wanna break up with your boyfriend, let’s talk about that. Not about us doing our thing, ’cause we gon’ do that.”

  “Whatever.”

  “There you go with whatever. It’s not whatever.”

  “Who said I wanted to break up with my boyfriend?”

  Shae carried on. “I hope you don’t, and especially not over him not wanting to party. Come on, Seven. Not all guys want to hang out all the time. Country is a DJ, so he is always at a party. And Bling is . . .”

  “Watch it, Shae,” Khya said, smacking her lips.

  “Bling is just Bling. But Zaire is not that type of dude. He’s right. He doesn’t have parents—”

  “And I should pay for that?”

  “No. But you should understand that.”

  “At what freakin’ cost? His routine is getting tiresome. Shower, order pizza, eat pizza, watch TV, and then after he takes a nap, he wants to kiss and get it in. Like no. I don’t want to do that anymore.”

  “Then you should’ve told him that from the beginning. You spent all summer with him doing just that, and now you’re mad because he’s being himself. The same self you loved to death until your mother busted your summer groove up. All I know is that you need to get your mind right.”

  I was ticked. “So what you’re saying is that I should accept whatever Zaire gives me? And I should just sit here and be miserable and bored. And do nothing that I want to do? That’s some bull! I knew I should’ve just skipped all of this and gone to the pool hall and chilled with Josiah!” I said, more to myself than to them.

  “Josiah!” Shae and Khya said simultaneously.

  “Rewind?” Shae frowned. “Josiah?”

  “Are you serious?” Khya grinned. “I knew you were ’bout to bust out a little slide to the side! Go on and get it, girl. Clear it out!”

  “What the heck?” Shae looked at me in disbelief. “Josiah? So that’s what this is really about? Josiah? I thought you hated Josiah.”

  “I knew she didn’t. I told you they were ’bout to bust a move any day now. I could tell.” Khya slapped me a high five. “Look, I say getcha pop-pop-make-it-drop-playa-playa on.”

  Shae twisted her lips. “And I say, why are you going backward? You have a good dude and you need to cherish that. Not run back to Mr. Cheater.”

  “I’m not running back. And he apologized.”

  “So. And? You don’t have to accept every apology.”

  “I never said that I was.” Ugh! Shae was pissing me off. “First, you say Zaire is holding me back from partying. Then you say I should accept that because he’s a good dude, and now you say don’t accept Josiah’s apology because he’s a cheater!”

  “Exactly.”

  “That’s too many things to accept all at once!”

  “Look, I’m not saying to be stuck in a relationship you don’t want to be in. If Zaire is causing you that much grief, then leave him alone. But don’t be a ho.”

  “A ho and being happy are two different things.”

  “Not unless you’re a happy ho,” Khya said, and we looked at her like she was crazy. “I’m just sayin’.”

  Shae continued. “Don’t be happy at someone else’s expense. If he’s boring you, leave him.”

  “Spoken like the true queen of the same boyfriend since high school.”

  “I’ma let that go.” Shae paused. “All I’m saying is, don’t cheat. Just break up.”

  “That’s easier said than done.”

  “Yeah, I guess it would be if you’re trying to have your cake and eat it too.”

  “It’s not about that. It’s about me still loving Zaire.”

  “But wanting to be with Josiah at the same time.”

  “I never said that.”

  “Look. If no one else knows, I know how much you loved Josiah. And I don’t want to see you hurt again. So he apologized? And? He should’ve apologized a long time ago.”

  “Better late than never.”

  “Better never if you don’t mean it and you’re the same dude.”

  “You just don’t like him.”

  “I don’t. And more than me not liking him, I don’t like what he did to you and I don’t want to see my bestie hurt anymore. Because the next time, I’ma hurt him.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Shae, he’s like six-four and you’re five-three.”

  “Perfect position to bring it to his knees.”

  “Shae, I know you only want what’s best for me. But I just need a minute to figure things out.”

  “Okay. Cool. I’ll drop it.”

  Thank you.

  “Now do you want to come with us?” Shae asked.

  “Ill. I don’t do third wheels.” I gave her a major screw face.

  “So then you can come. ’Cause you would be the fifth wheel if you roll with us,” Khya said.

  “I don’t do that either. What I’ma do is sit here and work on my blog.”

  Khya said, “A’ight. Now come on, Shae. We need to go, ’cause the boos are waiting.”

  They both waved and blew kisses as they left out of my room, and a few seconds later I heard the door close behind them.

  I looked at my cell phone and thought about calling Zaire. Then I quickly changed my mind. Instead, I worked on my blog. Just as I’d typed the first few lines, Josiah invaded my thoughts.

  Should I?

  No...

  Why?

  It’s wrong...

  But...

  “Hey, Seven.”

  That startled me. I looked up. “Khya? I thought you were gone.”

  “I was. But I told Shae I forgot something.”

  “What’d you forget?”

  “To tell you this. All of what Shae said was true. But you’re not thirty. Heck, you’re not even nineteen and a half. You don’t have any kids. You are not married to Zaire and if you wanna get your hot pocket on, then you need to handle that. And if you wanna slide to the side with Josiah, or whatever other cutie, do it. That’s called the best of both worlds. And I will help you make out a schedule of what days to assign to whom and what exactly you need to do to pull this off. But don’t—and I mean don’t—let Shae preach you into a life of nothing to do. ’Cause Shae is gon’ be where? With Country. And you gon’ be where? Up here lying across the bed, miserable! So from this time forth and forevermore, if I were you, I’d be gettin’ up off of
that bed and bustin’ out into something real tight and cute. And I’d be heading where? To the dang pool hall to hit an eight ball and pocket a b-ball playa-playa. Owwww!NowIgottago. ’Cause we ’bout to what? Tear da wall down, bey’be!” She shot me a two-finger peace sign and strutted out the door.

  17

  Take a chance

  I hope I look cute.

  I scanned my reflection in the full-length bathroom mirror.

  Maybe I should . . .

  No. I can’t change my clothes again. This is the fifth outfit.

  I ran my hands over my hips.

  This one will have to do.

  Do I need more lip gloss?

  I popped my cotton candy–colored lips.

  Oh God, these jeans are super tight.

  I sucked my stomach in.

  I should’ve worn the hot-pink jeans instead of the blue ones . . .

  The blue is fine.

  I hope he can’t tell I have a panty girdle on . . .

  Ugh!

  Why did I listen to the voice my mother planted in my head? I do not always need to wear a panty girdle. And anyway, they’re called Spanx. Why does she still call them a girdle?

  Am I going crazy?

  Suck your stomach in.

  Why did I eat that stale pizza? Now I have like five pounds of it sitting on my hips.

  Just chill.

  Relax.

  You are working these glue-on jeans and white tee with pink sparkling Love going across it. And your five-inch heels are the cutest.

  Showstopper.

  Looking like wealth.

  Now get your Naomi Campbell on.

  Put one foot in front of the other and work. It.

  “Poetic Justice” boomed as I stepped into Cisero Murphy Billiards. My hair, which I usually wore in a ponytail, flowed over my shoulders and bounced with my every move.

  To say that I was nervous would be a major understatement. Every nerve in my body was having an anxiety attack. And I wasn’t quite sure why.

  Was it guilt?

  No guilt—just focus.

  Was it butterflies?

  Butterflies? This is Josiah. You know him better than he knows himself. No need for butterflies.