Baby, You're the Best

by Mary B. Morrison

Yes, I did. I was relieved. His dying wasn’t my fault. His being gone was like a burden lifted from my life. All the tears I’d shed for him while he was here had drained me. Not one teardrop fell from my eyes for that man since the day he’d died and it would stay that way until the day I died.

  I told Echo, “Honestly, I do.”

  She looked at the pictures on the mantel. “Oh, my gosh it’s been so long since I’ve been here.” Echo picked up the photo of us together at a Falcons versus Saints game. We had lots of fun that day. We always had a good time wherever we went.

  “This was five years ago but I remember it well. We got our ass whupped,” Echo said, then laughed. “Have you been to any games since this one?”

  Admiring my girl, she was still inside-out beautiful. Her round face blended her cheeks with her chin. Her nose was flat, wide, with no bridge. Her marbled-shaped chocolate eyes beamed with energy. She hadn’t gained a pound. Still had that perfect size fourteen. Small waist. Gigantic booty. Itty-bitty titties.

  “I went to a few with Fortune. The ones I’d bought tickets to.” Disgust rose in my voice. That man was dust and the thought of his selfish ways still angered me.

  Echo placed the frame back in the lineup. “Let it go, Blake. Don’t let hatred eat away your soul.”

  She was right. “I like your purse. What designer is that?” I asked.

  She handed the tan bag to me. “Long as it looks good you know I have no idea. You tell me.”

  I placed it on the table behind the sofa. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Her maxi sundress dragged on the beige carpet. Her B-cup boobs sagged a little. Were those her areolas I could see? Shaking my head I couldn’t miss the red panties. Maybe her breasts appeared small because her ass was so big.

  She was the one friend that I had who was optimistic ninety percent of the time. She wished people well when they spoke ill of her. Uplifted her man in positive praise through their toughest times even after he’d cheated on her.

  If Echo couldn’t help a person become better, she didn’t stand by to watch them fail. Guess that was why she’d stopped hanging out with me. I missed being in her presence.

  “Not that I need to say it but make yourself at home. Let me get some champagne. I chilled it just for us,” I said, heading into the kitchen.

  “When do you go back to work again?” she shouted from the living room.

  “Not soon enough! In six days! I’d go back today if I didn’t have to list this property and purchase another one.”

  “Shut up! You’re selling your house! Are you staying in this area? You should buy the house next door to us.”

  We’d been friends for thirty-five years. Part of the reason I hadn’t reached out to her until now was it was hard for me to be happy seeing her in a healthy relationship knowing mine was screwed up. Her friendship always remained in my heart even when she wasn’t in my life.

  “I’m tired of the commute. I’m going to buy in Buckhead.” That was one reason. The other was I’d be in the center of the social environment where I’d met Spencer. Hell, if he was that attracted to me and he was the bartender, I could sit at the bar and meet all types of men.

  “Don’t sleep on Smyrna, it’s safe. Buckhead has too much crime for me.”

  “Buckhead isn’t that bad. You’re talking about all of Fulton County,” I said.

  Echo replied, “Okay. You’re going to have to keep all of your guns loaded and one in your purse.”

  Echo was friendly but she would shoot back if necessary. The gun collection she and her husband owned was impressive. All this talk about firearms reminded me I was overdue for a few rounds at the range.

  I placed the open bottle in the ice bucket, carried the two flutes, handed her one. “Mercedes is coming by with the Realtor later so I can sign the listing agreement. Knowing my daughter she’s probably already found me something.”

  Echo’s being here made me regret that I’d sacrificed my relationship with my best friend for a man. A man who was never a friend to me.

  “Not calling you for years won’t happen again,” I told her, squeezing her hand.

  That was the truth. She gripped my fingers. “You my girl, Blake. Sometimes we have to figure things out, our way, you know. In our own time. Your relationship with your man wasn’t about me. Neither my number nor my address changed. You knew where and how to contact me.”

  It took us two hours, plus one and a half bottles of champagne, to catch up.

  “You’re so assured of yourself. How do you stay happy in your marriage and grounded in your personal life?” I asked, sipping on a mimosa.

  Echo grabbed my hand, sat my drink on the coffee table. She escorted me to the full-length mirror on my wall. “Take off your clothes,” she said.

  Glancing around as though someone could see us, I frowned and smiled at the same time. “You can’t be serious.”

  She lifted my dress, pulled my panties down to my ankles. Slipped my dress over my head, flung it to the couch, then unfastened my bra. I didn’t resist. Echo wasn’t bisexual.

  Standing before her naked nervously I laughed. She didn’t.

  Echo removed her clothes. “Look at us, Blake. We are fifty and sexy as hell.”

  “Oh my goodness. I missed your fiftieth!” I wanted to give her a hug but opted to wait until my clothes were back on.

  Echo shook her head. “This isn’t about me. You’ve got to give praise to the Lord. I thank Him every day for my healthy beautiful body. It’s not what it was five years ago and it won’t be what it is now in five years but I still look good.” She twirled, then continued, “These titties hang a snatch but so what. This juicy phat ass has dimples but I don’t care and neither does my husband.” She slapped herself on the butt, then smacked mine. “Don’t wait until you’re on your way out to appreciate what you have.”

  Echo’s comment reminded me I needed to call Brandon. Lunch with him before returning to work was a must. It dawned on me we didn’t meet up for drinks after my makeover. He had no idea all I’d endured and he was probably distracted by some new guy.

  “You’re right,” I said, admiring my smile. My teeth were even; my mouth was attractive enough to please a much younger man. My neck, nipples, breasts, stomach, curvy hips, and thighs were caressed by Spencer.

  Echo and I put on our clothes, then we sat on the sofa. I picked up my mimosa.

  “Honey, I had a twenty-seven-year-old in my house for a whole week after my fiftieth birthday. He just left yesterday.”

  Echo smiled. “So the truth comes out, bitch. That’s why your ass didn’t call me when Fortune died. Before I forget, I need to borrow one of your handbags. You’re probably still not using most of them anyway.”

  I pointed to the bedroom in the back. “Help yourself. There’s more upstairs. I’m going to refresh our drinks.” I was so happy she’d come to visit.

  I chuckled. None of us gave a damn that Fortune was dead. Returning to the living room, I reclaimed my seat.

  “This one okay?” Echo asked, knowing I didn’t care. I also knew I’d never see that purse again. She never returned the items she so-called borrowed. I’d used that purse for church this past Sunday. After what I’d discovered about the bishop, I hadn’t planned on using that bag or wearing the clothes I had on again. I didn’t want anything to remind me of what the bishop had done to Spencer when Spencer was a boy.

  Echo opened the purse. “Oh, here,” she said, handing me an envelope.

  “I’d forgotten she’d given me this.” There was nothing written on the outside. I opened the envelope and unfolded a letter. My mouth hung open.

  “She, who?” Echo took the letter and check from me. Her jaw dropped. She read, “Dear Blake, This is a thank-you offering for your taking care of my trifling husband. I knew you wouldn’t take it if I’d handed it to you so I asked a member to give you the envelope. You did me the biggest favor one woman could do for another. I know how much of an asshole my husband was but he’d never hit
me. Sorry for that. No woman deserves to be abused. If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have enjoyed the last five years with my cub (lol). We married the day after Fortune died. Enough about me. Here’s a little something for your troubles, sweetheart. You’ve earned it.”

  I was speechless.

  Echo said, “Now this is what I call high class but let me rewind. He did what to you?”

  I nodded. “He beat me because I’d put his ass out. He came back and—”

  Echo held up her hand. “Wait, how did his wife find out?”

  “I imagine she ordered the police report.”

  “You should’ve told me, Blake. I’m your friend.”

  I wanted to cry. I stared away from Echo.

  Echo gave me a hug. “It’s okay. We can talk about it when you’re ready.”

  I told her, “Not that I need it but I never expected a cashier’s check for a hundred thousand dollars. Girlfriend, I’m taking you on a vacation. Anywhere you want to go. I’m serious. Now back to Spencer. He made love to me yesterday. The kind that made me cry, then he left.”

  Echo smiled. “Girlfriend, he gave you that I’ma-put-it-down, you-gon’-fall-in-love dick. You probably just hadn’t had any good dick in five years. Those tears were pent-up pussy juice flowing from your eyes.”

  Echo could always make me laugh and smile. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you too, Blake.”

  “You think I’m being foolish.”

  My friend shook her head slowly. “Your problem is you don’t believe you deserve him. If you have feelings for Spencer, let him know. If he’s feeling the same, great. If not, thank him for the dick and ask if you can have some mo’.”

  I had to laugh, then sip my drink. I knew Spencer had sworn me to secrecy but Echo was my best friend.

  Echo’s cell chimed as though she’d tapped her glass twice with the handle of a spoon. I waited as her gaze scrolled across her screen. Standing, she said, “Blake, I hate to cut our girlfriend time short, but I have to leave. I’ll call you later.”

  Maybe the interruption was a sign that I wasn’t supposed to tell her about Spencer. I escorted her to the door, put my hand on the knob, cracked the door. But I valued her opinion and there wasn’t anyone else I’d tell.

  “This will only take a moment. Let me ask you something.”

  Echo stared into my eyes. She remained silent.

  “What would you do if you found out our bishop molested your man when your man was a child? Would you still go to our church?”

  Her lips parted. She paused, then said, “God is my every—” Her jaw dropped, she frowned. Blurting, “Shut the hell up! Your guy told you that our bishop molested him!”

  I nodded.

  “Girl, to be continued. I wish I didn’t have to leave but I’ve got to go. I’ll call you soon as I get in my car.”

  When I opened the door, I thought I’d die.

  Echo glanced at me through the corners of her eyes, then quietly excused herself.

  Spencer stared at me with tears that didn’t fall from his eyes. His lips, those lips that generally curved into a closed smile, pressed tightly together. He dropped a dozen red roses and a Saks Fifth Avenue gift bag at my feet.

  Tears filled my eyes. His cologne greeted my nostrils. His face was freshly shaved. His locks were gone. Oh, my, God. Had he cut them for me? His red button-up was nice, crisp. I was dying inside. The lump in my throat didn’t make me speechless. The one thing he’d asked me not to do, I’d . . . I’d . . .

  Shaking his head, he walked down the steps as Alexis got out of her car.

  “What’s up, Domino,” Alexis said. “By the way, love the new look.”

  She had on a short, sexy, black lace halter dress that draped her hips. She opened her arms to him for a hug. What if . . . What if he had sex with Alexis?

  He opened his arms, wrapped them around my daughter’s waist, looked over his shoulder at me. His hands cupped Alexis’s butt, underneath her dress. Sliding his hands up her ass, I saw her gold thong. She didn’t protest.

  Loud enough for me to hear, he told my child, “Hit me up later if you want to come by.”

  I know I wasn’t right. But what he’d told her was wrong.

  CHAPTER 46

  Spencer

  Women, I swear I’d never trust another one of them! I punched my steering wheel. The horn blasted.

  “Fucking bitch!” After all I’d done!

  She probably thought I was wrong for feeling up her trifling daughter in front of her. At least I didn’t do it behind her back. Like mother, like daughter. Yeah. “The hell with both of them.”

  I’d finally made up my mind that Fabulous was the one I wanted to date and she go and do some foul shit like that. That woman leaving her house didn’t know me but she knew some dude had fucked me in the ass when I was a kid. She couldn’t even look me in my face.

  That shit right there was unforgiveable.

  New clothes. Burberry Touch cologne. Fresh flowers. I’d done all that for Fabulous. For what! Women loved bragging on what a guy did for them. I knew she was feeling some type of way when I chose work over laying up with her for the what, ninth night in a row? See, women quickly forget all the considerate shit.

  Speeding to merge onto the freeway, I swerved. I almost collided with a white Benz zooming by me. I did a double-take thinking it was Blake trying to catch up to me. It wasn’t that bitch. If it were, I would’ve caught up to her just to flip her off.

  Spencer. My mother’s voice echoed in my ear. I knew it was Venus. She was trying to calm her baby boy down before he injured himself, or someone else.

  “Mama, why?” Why were women so heartless? “They don’t make ’em like you anymore,” I cried aloud.

  How many others had Blake told? Who would I serve at the bar not knowing if they knew my deepest secret?

  I pulled off at my exit, dried my tears, stopped at Tower Liquor on Piedmont. After picking up a 375ml of peach vodka, I drove up the street to Piedmont Park. Got out of my car, sat on the lawn, stared up at the sky. I held the bottle in my hand between my knees.

  “Why am I so fucked up in the head?”

  I uncapped the vodka, swallowed a mouthful, twisted the top back on. Instead of alleviating my problems, Blake made it worse. I hadn’t bounced back from feeling emasculated at her church.

  “If I’d never tapped the fucking bar twice, I wouldn’t be here.”

  What was the purpose of my trying to do right? Females. I shook my head. I unscrewed the cap, pressed the bottle to my lips. Maybe this shit was karma. Get-back for how I’d mistreated Charlotte. She was the one that screwed dude and ruined our good thing. I knew I could’ve done a better job of helping Charlotte while she was grieving over her dad but she sought comfort by opening her legs for dude? Finding that shit out gave me unnecessary grief.

  Women didn’t understand that pussy wasn’t sacred unless they had a man that gave a fuck. Fuck Charlotte. Fuck Blake, too!

  Charlotte hadn’t contacted me since Alexis smacked her. I hadn’t reached out to Charlotte either. Some shit was easier not to deal with. Probably how my bitch-ass dad, Conner Rogers, felt about me and my mom. Perhaps it was best for me to let Charlotte be. Let that sleeping female dog lie to some other dude.

  I was nicer than the average guy in the ATL. Some of these hoods had zero mental when it came to their girl fucking around. If their girl slipped up, their girl would get one of two things. Cut off. Or beat down. Sometimes both. Some of these females were on a leash so short they couldn’t turn around to take a piss.

  A text came in from Alexis. Still wanna hookup later?

  Sure was my response. Why not? If she was tossing up pussy, I’d take it.

  Sweet. I’ll hit you when I’m leaving

  I texted her back, Leave now, to irritate Blake.

  On my way

  That’s what was up. My kind of girl.

  Blake didn’t suck dick better than Alexis but the chemistry I had with Bl
ake made each moment special. A call came in from her. I declined it. She called again. I hit decline again.

  Now you want to talk to me. What the fuck she got to say now? She hadn’t called my name when I walked away. Didn’t text or dial my number until Alexis had probably left or said, I can’t stay long.

  A brotha like me got pussy on pause. Did Blake have a clue how many numbers I received from females and dudes on a daily? At the end of my shifts, tips were green but I tossed every contact a guy gave me. I was molested but I wasn’t gay.

  What was Blake going to say if I’d answered? Spencer, I’m sorry.

  Fucking straight she was sorry. Or was she going to beg me, Please don’t have sex with my daughter. I didn’t owe Blake any consideration. Just like Charlotte, Blake handed a brotha a get-you-some-new-pussy pass.

  If Charlotte hadn’t messed up, I wouldn’t have done Blake. If Blake hadn’t screwed up, I wouldn’t be on my way to give her daughter the Spencer special.

  The one and only thing I begged of her not to do, she’d done. Her betrayal gave me the right to do whatever the fuck I wanted. I turned the bottle up again. Again. Until it was half empty. Got back in my car, then called my boy, LB. I didn’t know what made me hit him.

  “Hey, what’s up Spence?”

  “Nothing much, man. Where you at?”

  “Work. For another hour. Dude, you sound over the legal limit. Where you at? You good?”

  “Nah, man, but I’ll be straight in an hour or so.” I couldn’t share my truth with him. Boy or not, dudes never knew what to say to one another about male-on-male molestation. Now, if a female had taken my virginity, he would’ve known that a long time ago. “I’ll hit you tomorrow, bruh.”

  Ending the call before I said some shit about Alexis, I drove to my place wondering if I’d ever settle down. Marry. Have kids. Blake could never make me a father. Alexis could. Alexis was high maintenance though. That was okay. I had enough money to take care of her the way she’d like. Couldn’t take my money with me. Learn that from my mom when she willed me everything. Might as well make somebody happy. Have a kid or two to pass my funds on to.