by Cydney Rax
“Good, thanks, people, I love it. Let’s take a moment to vote on the top two fund-raising picks based upon all the ideas you’ve given today. We’re almost about to get outta here for lunch,” Ursula says.
She distributes notepaper, and we jot down our top two picks.
I walk up to the front of the room and stand in front of Ursula, holding out my paper toward her. She’s busy writing.
“Just put it on the desk, please.”
“But what if I prefer you to take it from me?”
“Look, Seaphes—”
“Oh, since when were we on a first-name basis?”
“Mr. Hill, if you don’t mind, I’m busy,” she says with sharpness in her voice that makes my cheeks turn red. I can tell the room has gotten quieter and my stomach is growling even louder.
“Uh, well, I didn’t mean any harm,” I tell her in a soft voice. But she still won’t look at me. And I don’t know why I’m letting this bitch talk down to me.
“I need to talk to you directly after this meeting,” I tell her.
“I don’t have time for—”
“You don’t even know what I want to say.”
She sighs and finally looks at me. “You’re right. Whatever you need to say, say it now.”
Other people are now bringing up their fundraising choices, which Ursula gladly retrieves with a smile and a soft “thank you.”
“Fine then. Why are you so mean?” I ask in a quiet voice.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I barely know you, and you’ve always had a nasty attitude. I just want to know why.”
“I’m sorry, but this is not the time or place.”
“You just asked me to say whatever I needed to say right now,” I say, my voice increasing in volume more than I expect or want.
“Hey, hey, now you two quiet it down,” Percy cuts in. “We trying to get up outta here.”
I hold my tongue and slither back to sit down, my face red as some Georgia dirt.
“Okay, sorry, everyone. It is getting a little past twelve. So I’ll just e-mail the results to the group this afternoon with further instructions. Thanks for your time and participation. Have a great weekend.”
Ursula begins scooping up papers, her head lowered while she stares at the table. Most of the meeting participants jump up immediately, flying out the door and loudly gabbing about nothing.
“Damn, she was the bitchiest bitch I’ve ever seen. Don’t even waste your time on that sista.”
I look up. It’s that carrot cake baking woman. She has one hand on her hip and a book lodged under her arm. Only word I can make out in the title is bitches.
I glance at Ursula, who’s still pretending to gather her stuff, obviously waiting for me to leave before she’ll look up.
“Yeah, I hear ya,” I say to the woman. “She’s got issues. So, what’s that you’re reading?”
“Oh, this,” she says, blushing. “I’m a member of a book club, and this is what was picked. It’s pretty cool. Gives great info about men and women and our relationship challenges.”
“Oh, yeah.” I glance at the book she’s holding up. “Shoot, I could’ve written that book,” I say, looking back at Ursula, who is now talking to Percy.
“I’ll bet you can,” she says, flirtatiously. “You look like you probably know a lot about relationships.”
“Yeah,” I say, taking a closer look at this woman. She’s standing an arm’s length away from me, appearing bored and casual. She’s killing the dress that she’s wearing; it’s purple, my favorite color, and shows off a great pair of legs in black leather boots. All that makes me wonder what’s underneath the dress, and I have no idea why my mind is going there about her so soon.
“Well, women are something I have a lot of dealings with, but I don’t always understand them.”
“Mmm hmmm. In what way?” she asks, tilting her head.
“Huh,” I say. “Well, take for example my bonehead sister. She has a good man at home, the father of her child, but she still has to party every Friday night like if she doesn’t the world is coming to an end. Dude always lets her go, too.”
“‘Lets her’?”
“I mean he doesn’t ever tell her he has problems with her going. Probably because she starts whining about how she’s stuck in the house all day and needs to get out and be around someone that she can hold grown-up conversations with.”
“Ahhh, she sounds like a mom with a young kid. First-time mom?”
“Yeah.”
“Figures.”
“You got kids?” I ask.
“Mmmm, why do you ask?”
I cough and clear my throat.
“I mean,” she explains, “I was hoping that my figure doesn’t suggest that I have kids. That’s what I meant by my question. You see my hips are wide and sometimes people think I got my wide hips from kids. The answer is no—I was born with these suckers.”
I laugh and nod approvingly. I look back up at Ursula, who’s actually following Percy out of the room.
“Hey, you wanna do lunch?” I ask the woman a little too loudly.
“Really?” she asks, eyes widening. Then she catches herself and looks nonchalant. “Uh, shoot, I would love to but I forgot. I promised to meet a friend.”
“Well, hmmm, okay, it was nice talking to you. Do you have your card on you? I’ve run out.”
“Hold up a sec, let me look.” She fiddles around in her purse but pulls out nothing.
“Sorry,” she apologizes. “I’m all out, too.”
“Oh, well. I guess I’ll stop hogging your time so you can go meet your date.”
“It’s not—well, I guess it is getting late. See ya later, Seaphes.”
“Okay, I gotta run too—I need to drain the vein.”
“Excuse me?” she asks, looking confused.
“Men’s room,” I mouth.
She laughs and blushes, and I take one step forward, then stop.
“You know,” I say to her, “in the old days no one depended on handing out business cards. If they still wanted to continue a conversation or further get to know someone, they wrote down numbers on a piece of paper.”
“Uh, yeah. Why don’t you give me your number?”
“Are you going to do anything with my number?”
She looks like she’s about to say something again, but catches herself. “Why, you want me to use it?”
“Listen, you look pretty in your dress. Your legs really stand out in that outfit. I want to see you wearing that one again.”
“Ah ha. Thanks,” she says, allowing a grin to spread on her face.
“Here, take my number,” I say and hand her a receipt I used to scribble my cell number.
“Thanks again. I gotta go,” she says, holding the receipt.
“I gotta go, too,” I tell her and rush into the men’s room.
What was that about?
—11—
VERON
Demetria is waiting for me at the entrance of the building. “You did well, little grasshopper,” she says.
I beam at her. I was so happy that she let me do my thing with Seaphes without having to intervene—she just stood a few feet behind him and listened.
“Where ya wanna go for lunch, boo?” Demetria asks after we hop in her Dodge Nitro—it still has that intoxicating new-car smell. I inhale and let the aroma fill my nostrils. I sit back and relax, unzipping my boots.
“Girl, your feet betta not stink.”
“Please, they’re fine. Just hot.”
“That’s what women do for beauty. Gotta suffer. You needed to wear something that aroused your man’s sense of sight.”
“You’re so right. He complimented me on my legs, I couldn’t believe it. But…” I chew thoughtfully on my bottom lip.
“But what? Hey, where are we going?”
“I dunno. Surprise me,” I tell her.
“’K,” she says and grins at me. “Finish what you were about to say.”
&n
bsp; “Well,” I tell her wistfully. “I was dying inside, as you can imagine. And I think I played it cool enough, even though I almost messed up a couple times. But I don’t know; it just doesn’t feel like me! And anyway, I can’t tell if he was really sincere.”
“Sincere about?”
“He gave me my props about my legs and dress and whatever, but how can you tell if a man is just going through the motions? Almost like he’s obligated to give me a compliment but not that he really means it.”
“Don’t even worry about it. Men lie about that kind of stuff, but we do it, too. Hell, if I can twist my lips to tell Percy Jones he looks nice, then, hey.”
I giggle. “Why on earth would you tell that clown anything good about himself?”
“He needs that nurturing, too. As annoying as Percy is, we gotta be sweet. He is someone who can help us out one day if we’re in a pinch. I’m telling you, be nice even to the most trifling of guys, and they will do whatever you want. The goal is to get what you want from whomever you need to get it.”
“Damn, Demetria.”
“Gotta up your game, girlfriend. You’re off to a good start. But there’s one slight problem.”
“What’s that?” I ask her.
“This Seaphes guy doesn’t know who the hell you are. I noticed that he never once called you by your name. I was tempted to say something to you, anything, as long as I called you by your name, because I could tell he wasn’t paying any attention in that meeting. He was too busy trying to get in Ursula’s panties.”
“And that’s an insult. So what she has a big-time position? So what she dresses in a different outfit every day? So what? She’s mean as hell. And he was all over her, anyway! Men piss me off with that. They always fall in love—”
“—with bitches. Bitches that don’t give a damn about them. Happens all the time. But guess what, Vee.”
“What?”
“If you wanna tag this man, you’re gonna have to pull an Ursula.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.” I sigh.
“All the things you’re doing now, keep doing them. Don’t act excited about him. Be nonchalant. Show him you’re a challenge. You want him to hound you like he hounds Ursula Phillips.”
“Do you know anything about her on a personal level?”
“Not really, but I can still size her up enough to see she’s a true bitch on wheels. She’s gotten a few people fired, I know that much. Here we go,” she tells me as we pull up to the side of a restaurant.
I look out the car window and want to pump my fists in the air. I’m dying for some Greek food, and Demetria must want some, too, because now we’re here on Montrose Street at Niko Niko’s—one of the most popular Greek restaurants in Houston. Their gyro sandwiches are second to none, and if you love thick, hot, salty French fries, this is the place to get them.
When they call our number at the counter, Demetria goes to pick up our food, and it feels good to let her. Usually I’m the one who gets up to get stuff when we go get lunch. I thank her when she gets back.
“No problem, but you’re not going to believe this. Your boy Seaphes is up in here, and he is not alone.”
“Demetria, please tell me you’re playing one of your jokes.” I suddenly lose my appetite.
“Just chill out, it’ll be okay. No matter what, you gotta act like you do not give a rat’s ass. Because you don’t, right? You have a life, you are a woman who has things to do, and it doesn’t bother you if you see your man with another tramp.”
“Oh God, please don’t tell me he’s with…”
Demetria simply nods and stuffs gyro and pita bread in her mouth.
I just sit back and stare at her. And it amazes me how you can go from standing on top of a mountain to being sprawled out in a valley in less than thirty minutes.
“Hey, keep cool. It’s not over. Let them do lunch. That is your man, you got that? Ursula Phillips doesn’t give a damn about him.”
“That’s what I’m scared of!”
“One thing you gotta understand about men. They love all kinds of women, they don’t have a type. So that is why you’ll see a man with a light-skinned woman one day, a hefty one the next, and a dark-skinned skeleton a week later. They could care less about if she’s ranked a ten or a two; as long as she was born with some trim between her thighs, he can be attracted to her. She can be sweet, mean, Christian, Muslim, smart, or a GED candidate, it does not matter. Once you understand that, you won’t waste time wondering why he’s trying to get with this Ursula chick.”
“Well, that sucks.”
“So what it sucks. Things suck. Get over it.”
I blow out a long, depressing breath and try to listen to Demetria. But what she says worries me. “Okay, Ms. Know-It-All, if men don’t have types, then all men would cheat, wouldn’t they? They wouldn’t be picky. They would have you and anyone else they think they want.”
“Well, some of them do,” she says. “Listen, girl, just be you.”
“Meaning?”
“You continue the game plan of acting nonchalant.”
“I feel like walking up to them and giving him his stupid phone number back, tearing the paper up in little pieces.”
“That’s childish. You’re a grown-ass woman, you don’t roll like that. You gotta be confident and oblivious.”
“But I don’t feel it.”
“Be it anyway; it’s not about feeling it.”
“Look, Demetria, with all due respect, what if you walked in here and found your wonderful Thaddeus chilling out with another woman?”
“Girl, it’s already happened.”
“W-what?”
“Hell, yeah. A few months ago I was out conducting some business, and I wanted to grab a bite to eat. So I rolled over to this popular spot called Baba Yega—they make the best turkey burgers in town. I walk in the restaurant and place my order and decide to venture outside to the garden area, since I knew the wait would be a good ten minutes. Girl, yes, I go outside, and who’s out there but Thaddeus with this anorexic, stringy-haired brunette. He was squirming in his seat like he was about to crap on himself. And I am pissed off, because I consider Baba Yega just one of our spots. That’s just plain rude and doesn’t make me feel special. So to see him in the restaurant with this bitch, Vee, I was tempted to pick up a knife and slash him across the throat. But I just walked up to their table and said, ‘Hey, Thaddeus. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. How’d that STD test come out?’”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yeah, I blurted it out and quickly changed it up to make it look real, but this lady gave a wide-eyed blank look like she didn’t catch on, so it didn’t matter what I said. And so I get my food and I go eat it in the car, waiting to see how long they stay in the restaurant. Girl, they came out of that joint five minutes later.”
“And then what?”
“Oh, he was blowing up my cell phone, leaving messages, trying to explain who she was. Said she was some woman he works with. I believed him, because when I was out there in the parking lot he didn’t see me, but he still didn’t hug or kiss her or anything. But I still let him sweat it.”
I roll my eyes—I have my doubts about his story. Maybe she trusts her non-trustworthy man, and I don’t blame her, but I hate when she preaches to me but doesn’t have the license to do so.
“I gotta make my bladder gladder,” I tell Demetria. I rise up out of my seat and head for the women’s restroom. I pass by Seaphes’s booth. He’s alone. Surprised, I wave at him as I walk by.
“Hey,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “Why are you here?”
“Probably the same reason as you. Love me some Greek food.”
“Something in common.”
I smile but don’t say anything.
“You met your boyfriend here?”
“Uh, I’m here with someone. And you?” I wonder if it’s okay to ask that.
“Well, I actually ran into Ursula. She came in for carryout and sh
e actually sat and talked with me for a second, which was shocking.”
“Y’all make a great couple,” I tell him, trying to look unconcerned. “She’s a cute gal.” I hate this so much, so much, so much.
“Why you say that? I don’t even like her, she’s not my type.”
“Why you say that? It’s very apparent that you’re attracted to that woman. Everyone can see it.”
Seaphes frowns in disgust, and I wonder if he’s playing things off or if he is genuinely repulsed.
“Well, everyone may think they know what they see, but it doesn’t mean I like her. But hey, I’m glad you told me.”
“I’m glad I told you, too. Look, I gotta run to the ladies’ room real quick, plus my lunch date is probably wondering where I am.”
“Sorry to hold you up. Now don’t forget to call me sometime.”
“Hey.” I smirk. “If I called you, would you even know who I am?”
“What? Why do you think I don’t know who you are?”
“You never say my name.”
“What? W-well, that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Hmmm, never mind. I gotta run.”
Blushing, I hurry to the ladies’ room and look in the mirror. Jeez, why do I have flyaway hair right now? I smooth it with my hands and then empty my bladder, hoping that Seaphes will be gone by the time I walk past his booth. Damn, I wish we’d have gone somewhere else for lunch. But then again, it feels good to have had that conversation with Seaphes, and I hope that he’s telling the truth about not being attracted to Ursula. One thing I’ve learned is a man will always deny liking certain women, but if everything about his behavior screams that he’s feeling her, then I believe what I see and not what he says.
I take an extra-long moment in the ladies’ room trying to pull myself together. I know we’re creeping up to the end of our one-hour lunch break, but right now I just don’t care. Finally I storm out, make a sharp right around the corner, and walk briskly with my head up, the thick heel of my boots clicking against the floor. I don’t even know if Seaphes was still in the restaurant or not.
“Damn, what took you so long?”