My Best Friend and My Man

by Cydney Rax

  “Wh—?”

  I hang up.

  “Dang, this new wig is making a difference already,” I say, interrupting Demetria, who’s locked in a good-bye embrace with Michael West.

  —4—

  DEMETRIA

  “Get ready,” I say to Vee. “Because by the time I’m done with you, everything will be brand new.”

  Vee nods and smiles, and for the first time I feel confident she’s ready to let me do what I need to do.

  “Hey, baby girl,” Mike says. I thought he had left; he must have come back in. “Let me get them digits.” He nods at my BlackBerry Pearl phone.

  “Of course I’ll give you my number…but I need someone to pay for this stuff,” I say, smiling while I stretch out my fingers to stroke them across his sideburns. The moment I touch him Mike stares deep into my eyes, then reaches for his back pocket and pulls out his wallet.

  Vee stares at me.

  “What?” I ask her innocently. “School is in session,” I explain to her while Mike makes the credit-card transaction.

  “Where are you going now, Mike?” I ask him after we’re handed our bags and exit the store to stand in front of Wig World.

  “What you got in mind?”

  “Well, Vee and I are going to hang out a little while longer, but I want you to come with us. Think you can make that happen?”

  “Uh, yeah, that’s doable. Tell you what, I’ll be right back.”

  He slowly strides pimp-style toward his bronze BMW. I turn my back against Mike and look directly at Veron, intently studying her face as if it’s a mirror.

  Her eyes enlarge and her mouth pops open.

  “What?” I say to her. “Tell me what’s happening.”

  “Girlfriend is pissed. He asked for his key back and he’s going up to that Yellow Cab that was waiting near them in the parking lot.”

  “Damn.” I laugh happily. “I’ve got skills.”

  “Don’t be too happy. Mike is so insensitive to dump his girlfriend just to hang out with us and do nothing. I wonder what lie he’s making up.”

  “Don’t worry about his lies. His problem. Not ours. We won’t kidnap him for too long. I just want him to give us that male perspective about some things. Plus, this isn’t about me, this is all for you, so change your self-righteous attitude.”

  Veron shrugs like she’s unconvinced with my explanation.

  “Okay, what’s going on now?” I say to Veron, whose eyes are still stuck on the action behind me.

  “Can’t you hear Francine cussing him out? He’s handing her a wad of loot and convincing her to get in the cab. I guess he had to pay the piper.”

  “She’ll be all right. If she loves him she’ll forgive him.”

  “You make it sound so easy, Demetria. If that’s the case, I should forgive Ferris, but you advised me to kick him to the curb.”

  “That’s because I know you can do better than him. Don’t waste your time with a part-time lover. If dude was around every day checking for you, then he might be worth waiting on. But that every-blue-moon dick is not worth the investment.”

  “Do you always have an answer for everything, Demetria?”

  “Sure do. Because I’ve been there, done that.”

  We end up at Bennigan’s on the South Loop near Reliant Park.

  “Damn, why you gotta pick Bennigan’s?” Mike asks.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “I was banned from Bennigan’s. Not this particular one, but still…”

  “Mike, you’re such a fool. How can anyone get banned from here?”

  Mike shrugs sheepishly but says nothing else. Veron’s first to the entrance of the restaurant, and she puts her hand on the door, but I clear my throat and stare her down, and she lets Mike go first. He swings the door open for us, and we all walk into the place, where the hostess seats us in a booth.

  “What was that all about?” says Veron, who’s seated next to me.

  “A real woman never opens her own door. Always let the man step ahead of you and do it for you. And if you ride with him in his car, don’t get in until he opens your door.”

  “What’s the big deal? I’m pretty capable of opening my own door, Demetria, and it is the twenty-first century.”

  “It’s not about that; it’s all about respect.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Yes, Vee. You gotta be clear about what you want, and don’t back off or compromise.”

  “What about men who are so rude and selfish that they won’t open the door for you when they clearly see you coming?” she asks.

  “Call ’em out,” Mike says.

  “Hell, yes,” I agree. “I do it all the time. I say, ‘I thought God stopped creating men with no manners.’ Who cares if they’re pissed off—if a man can’t even open a fucking door, no way he’s gonna be fucking me.”

  Veron is staring at me so intently I shrug and roll my eyes so as not to let her scrutiny bother me.

  “Get a grip, Vee. You’re in training every second you’re with me, so take careful notes.”

  “But how did you learn all this? I mean, I feel like I’ve been living life letting all the important things slip by me.”

  “Well, you know, with your mom’s passing away when you were a teen, you’re gonna miss out on some vital info.”

  “What happened with your mom?” Mike asks.

  “I don’t talk about it much, but she died of an aneurysm when I was fourteen. But before she died, Mama was too strict. She wouldn’t let me date, go to the mall with my friends. I had to do group dates if anything, with church kids mind you, so that time of life was a bit messed up. I’m no victim, but a few things about men have totally slipped past me, and that is embarrassing, frustrating.”

  “Hey,” I tell her. “I’m not trying to be mean, but you really think I was born knowing how to deal with men? Be for real. It takes time and experience, Vee. But that’s what I’m here for. Just make sure and pay close attention so you may apply everything you’re learning from this moment until you take your last breath.”

  “Veron,” Mike interrupts. “Tell me more about yourself in five sentences.”

  “What?” she asks, perplexed. “Why?”

  “Just do it,” I instruct my girl. “Do what the man says and don’t question everything. Let trust flow out of you for once.” I turn to Mike. “You know, this is what I love about you. You’re one of the few men out there who we can talk straight to about guys, and who will give us the real deal.” I laugh. “Vee, you remember that time we asked him to give us the truth about whether size really matters to men?”

  “I remember that,” Mike says. “I told you hell-to-the-fucking yes! We’re sensitive. That is one thing you never tease a man about. As far as you’re concerned, your man is always packing, even if he’s as limp as some scrambled eggs. Tell him he’s got the biggest dick you’ve ever seen, because that’s the only thing he wants to hear, on the real.”

  “See what I’m saying? What other man gonna tell us that, huh, Veron? Just tell him more about yourself.”

  Looking hesitant, Veron opens her mouth. “Well, I am a Virgo, born September first.”

  “Go on,” Mike urges.

  “I enjoy reading Japanese comic books, listening to light jazz and old-school music. And I love playing dominoes, doing karaoke, talking on the phone—and talking in person. And I get a kick out of cooking; I’m a bit of a foodie.”

  “Borrring,” I interrupt.

  Veron squirms. “Okay…I like to be treated well. That’s what I want more than anything.”

  “Tell me one more thing that you wish everyone in the world knew about you,” Mike says.

  Veron takes a deep breath. “I want a man to be as in love with me as I am with him. I am dying for a man to spoil me, for us to spoil each other and to have a good time together no matter what is going on in our lives.”

  “Give me an example,” Mike says.

  “Huh?”

  “Clearl
y define what you want by painting him a picture,” I tell her.

  “Okay, well, I want a man who comes home from a long, hard day at work. And even if the boss pissed him off that day, he takes a moment to chill out, sip on a glass of tasty wine, and relax on the love seat in front of a burning fireplace for a few minutes, but he won’t block me out. I’ll let him have his private moment, but after that, we can focus on each other. He’ll let me serve him his home-cooked meal, then I can rub his feet and massage his muscles with soothing oils. We’d cuddle together and laugh and kiss, and he won’t be anxious to push me away if I ask him what’s wrong. I’d love to vibe with my man like that.”

  “Great job, Veron.” Mike smiles and nods. “You’re cool people with a lot of decency inside. We just gotta bring you out of your shell.”

  “Veron’s got it going on more than she realizes,” I remark as if she isn’t sitting at our table. “And between the two of us, I’m confident we’ll whip Ms. Darcey into shape.”

  “Don’t talk about me like I’m a charity case,” Veron complains. “I just need a few surefire tips. Once I decide what I want to do, I can take it from there.”

  “Okay, okay.” I smile at my friend, impressed with her snippy attitude.

  We all order colorful, flavored drinks, tons of onion rings, and baked potatoes topped with cheese, bacon bits, sour cream, and butter.

  “Okay, Mike, the reason why you’re here is because I personally believe you’re as real as men come,” I say to him. “And I want you to answer a few questions about why men are wired a certain way. Of course, this is for Vee’s info.” Oooh, that was a little blunt. Vee winces and I pull back. “Uh, well, both of us want to pick your brain. I mean, I have lots of experience, no doubt, but there’s always a scenario that catches me off-guard. That’s why we need to talk to you, got that?” I clarify offering Vee a peace-making smile.

  “I get it. Both of y’all need mucho ayuda.” He winks. “Go ahead, Demetria!”

  “Okay, question number one. What’s up with men who feel like they gotta fuck several women and keep ’em on lock?”

  He thinks for a second. “Well, some men will just never be satisfied with one person. Plus, every woman is different. Woman number one might be a good listener, is sweet, brings no drama, and can hold her own during a sexual Olympics marathon. Woman number two is fiery, unpredictable, and stays on a man’s dick. She won’t let him get away with BS, and sometimes a real man needs that.”

  “Okay,” Vee remarks, nodding slowly.

  “Another thing,” Mike continues. “Most men don’t like a woman who lets him walk all over her if he’s in the wrong. He respects his lady more if she doesn’t let him get away with dumb stuff and calls him to the carpet.”

  “Pssh, I knew that,” I brag. Vee rolls her eyes.

  “Okay, Ms. Darcey,” Mike says. “Since your girl claims she knows it all, what’s your question about men?”

  “Ooo, Mike, where do I begin? For starters, I want to know why some men will tell you they like you, ask you out, say all the right things, but then they break dates at the last minute, or always have some excuse about why they didn’t show up.”

  “Now some men are real good at follow-up,” Mike responds. “If they say they’re going to pick you up at seven, you can set your watch to them because they’re gonna be five minutes early. But another guy may always be goofing off and running late; that’s ’cause he’s unorganized, self-absorbed, or, to be blunt, he might not be that into you.”

  “Okay, fine,” Vee says, exasperated. “If you’re not into me, just tell me. Why ask me out on a date if you aren’t honestly feeling me?”

  “He’s either the sensitive type of guy who doesn’t want to outright stomp on your feelings by telling you the truth, or he just might be keeping you on lock,” Mike tells Veron. “Some men just like to shuffle three or four women at all times, keeping them within his rotation. He’ll call you once in a blue moon so you won’t forget about him. He knows he can wrap his little fingers around your heart, but it doesn’t mean the man wants to hook up every weekend. It’s just that if he reminds you he exists now and then, when he’s horny and ready to tap that ass, you’ll be there for him, no problem, because he’s put himself on your mind. It’s like he’s checking in on his investment.”

  “I can’t stand playing games like that!” Veron shakes her head. “Why is it so hard for a man to just be real with me?”

  “See,” Mike says, “what you don’t understand is there are women who don’t mind if they’re in the rotation. Hell, she’s got her own little rotation going herself, so if she gets to see her boo once every two weeks, it’s no skin off her back, because she wants to hook up with boo number two or three when her number one ain’t available. Women run game, too. Y’all better at it than men.”

  I toss back my head and laugh at Mike’s accuracy.

  “See what I’m saying. This dime here,” Mike says gesturing at me, “she can have any man in Bennigan’s that she wants. White, black, Baptist, or bisexual.” He grins. “Demetria plays the game well and—”

  “That’s good for her, but I don’t want to have to play games; didn’t you hear me?” Veron looks annoyed.

  “And exactly how many men call you on a Saturday night?” I ask her, equally annoyed.

  Vee hesitates. “I don’t accept last-minute dates,” she says.

  “See what I’m talking about?” I tell Mike. “Anyway, Vee, you’re lying because you did it for rusty-ass Ferris. What was that?” I ask. I’m getting angry now, because if she really thinks about it, regardless of the dead mama excuse, some of this is Vee’s own fault. If she doesn’t play games, she should’ve told corny Ferris hell-to-the-fucking no from the start.

  “Look, that was different,” she explains. “I hadn’t heard from Ferris in a while.”

  “Lame excuses, Vee.”

  “I had no other offers on the table,” she continues.

  “Then let those chips fall,” I tell her. “It won’t be the end of the world if you don’t have a date on Valentine’s Day. Life ain’t stopping behind something like that, right, Mike?”

  “Demetria, this is so easy for you to say,” Veron jumps in. “You have four or five men chasing you day and night. If you tell one guy where to get off, the next one is happily waiting in line.”

  “Yep. And?”

  “Why can’t you remember what I’m dealing with in my life and stop giving me advice based upon your philosophies and actions?”

  “Hello? Ms. Veron, that’s the whole point. What you’re doing doesn’t work. Period. You say you want what I have; then you need to do what I do. You’ve got to get in the game, even if it means playing some at first.”

  Veron answers in a soft voice. “Well, I am okay with the way I am for the most part. I just want a little bit of what you’ve got without playing the game to get it.”

  “I don’t believe that you want it bad enough, then,” I tell her. “Your mouth is saying one thing but your actions suggest otherwise.”

  “I agree,” Mike says.

  “Michael?” Vee says in disbelief, her eyes wide at Mike not backing her.

  “It’s like some women out here talking about not wanting men to hit on them, yet they’re wearing bootie shorts, and their titties are jiggling around in those skimpy halter tops,” he says skeptically. “Say what? You don’t want men staring down your boobs, but you’re letting ’em bounce around like you’re posing for a Hustler ad? Mixed signals. That’s kinda what you’re doing, Veron. You’re in denial big time.”

  “I am not in denial.”

  “Denial is the first sign of denial,” I tell her. “You gotta go through all the other parts to change yourself, not just stop with Wig World. You’ve got to learn the game.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, I just don’t see why…” and her voice tapers off as if she really has run out of excuses.

  “Look, Vee,” I say as gently as I can. “You will never be me
one hundred percent, ’cause that’s just how the good Lord made things, but you can begin one step at a time. Why? Because you are not happy, young lady. Admit it.”

  Veron’s stony face doesn’t scare me enough to shut my mouth. Truth hurts, doesn’t it? And truth is what we need to bring out for this girl to wake up and stop living in her fairytale world.

  “Vee,” I begin again. “You may not agree with the choices I make, and that’s fine. But I think once you change your mindset and be open to what I’m telling you, your life will be different. You may not want to play the game—even I get tired sometimes—but I’m always thinking about the end result.”

  “Yeah, but it all seems so fake,” Veron complains in a tired, scratchy voice.

  “It’s not fake,” Mike interjects. “It’s the way of the world. Every day we go through stuff, unnecessary stuff, just to get what we want. Can you honestly tell me you enjoy doing every little peon task you do working for the city? Do you? Hell, no, but you put up with the BS because you’re earning your paycheck, am I right?”

  Veron’s eyes finally fill with understanding. Looks like Mike can get through to her, and good thing, ’cause God knows what I’ve been trying isn’t working. Even though I’ve been where she is—sweet, dumb, and lonely. Existing in a world filled with unrealistic dreams. Waiting for the earth to change itself and make me be everything I felt I should be. But guess what? It never did. So I had to change myself, and now look at me. I just hope Vee has gotten the same message. Sometimes you can’t just be yourself, not if you want to achieve your goals.

  “Okay, Mike, Demetria. I vow not to fight against what you’re saying. I just need y’all to help me institute these changes. Deprogram me. Give me the twelve steps to happiness, whatever you wanna call it, because I am tired. All excuses aside, I have messed up. I know I have.”

  “But today you’ve taken some good steps. I mean, you got rid of Ferris, and I can imagine how hard it was to do that,” I tell her with all sincerity.