On managing to suppress the sudden urge to get up, go over, and in true drama-queen fashion toss what was left of my champagne into his all-too-smug mug, I offered him an icy stare instead and told him, “Your ass needs to quit.”
He laughed and said, “What? I know you’re not going to sit here and deny that he was here, are you?”
Even though I knew good and well what was coming next, when the brother snatched up his all-purpose remote and started clicking buttons, I couldn’t help but wince and brace myself. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said, pointing to the image of Carl that flashed up on the television screen, “but isn’t that your boy getting out of his raggedy-ass ride, or are my eyes playing tricks on me?”
“Yeah, he was here,” I said. “He stopped by and dropped off some of his birthday cake. But it wasn’t like we did anything.”
“No?” Scoobie said, looking like at any second he was going to start frothing at the mouth. “Then what do you call this?” He clicked from the image of Carl’s back door entry to a close-up shot of me and the brother in the kitchen with our lips and bodies fused together.
With his mouth all twisted up like he had a good mind to spit, Scoobie folded his arms across his chest and said, “I haven’t been able to view any of the other tapes as of yet, but believe me, looking at this for any length of time is enough to turn my damn stomach. So why not be a good sport and save me both the time and the trouble by just telling me which room you did him in?”
Starting to feel for all the world like a scolded child, I dropped my gaze to the floor as I tried to explain. “I told you already, Scoobie, we didn’t—” Then it dawned on me, and I looked up and said, “Hold up, are you saying you’ve got some kind of hidden monitoring system set up in all of these rooms?”
An ugly, downright evil grin spread across his pretty face as he laid it out for me. “Rooms, hallways, closets, you name it” is what he said. “Trust me, if your boy so much as sat his rusty behind on one of the commodes up in here, I have it somewhere on tape. Got to, babe. I’m a busy man. How else am I supposed to keep up with all my valuables while I’m away?”
Not wanting to believe what I thought I was hearing, I stood up and said, “Spying on folks while they’re sitting up on the toilet? I hope and pray that is not how you’re getting your jollies these days.”
Trying to look all contrite, he came over, put his arms around me, and was like, “Oh, come on, babe, you know that whole bathroom thing was just a joke. What’s this really all about, huh? Sex? And the fact that I haven’t been giving you any? Because if that’s all it is, babe, I can fix that right now. And I will. Just give me a moment to pray about it …”
Girl, I pushed that fool off me, grabbed up my purse, and told him, “You’re one sick puppy, you know that? Next time you talk to your surgeon friend you might want to see if he can’t refer you to a reputable shrink, ’cause I swear if you ain’t ’bout as crazy as—” I would have finished, but the rage I saw come to life in homeboy’s eyes made me momentarily lose my train of thought.
“Crazy as who?” he asked, coming toward me with his fists all balled up and his face turning a deep red. “My mama? Is that what you were going to say?”
See, if I had really wanted to be mean, I would have been like, “Hey, man, if the durn shoe fits, kick yourself in the ass with it.” But knowing how sensitive Scoobie’s always been about his mother and her mental illness, I couldn’t go there, nor had I planned to in the first place. And that’s what I told him. “Scoobie, in all of our years together and with all the verbal knockdown, drag-outs we’ve had, you’ve never known me to stoop that low. What makes you think I’m going to start now?”
On reaching into my purse and pulling out the engagement ring he’d given me, I told him, “Bottom line is, I’m just not willing to give up any more years of my life trying to love you, Scoobie. I thought I could, if only for the sake of our son, but I can’t.”
And having said my piece and returned his ring, girl, I walked out of that cold, unwelcoming, camera-rigged relic of the old South that Scoobie calls a home and didn’t look back.
HIM
Ms Vic? Sure, I still see her around campus sometimes. But all that studying in the library and hanging out after class we used to do—that’s over. I told you, son, I’m too through letting these young girls out here make a monkey outta me.
And it’s just as well, ’cause last I heard baby girl had reset her sights on none other than my poor ol’ Uncle Westbrook. On the real money, ol’ dude called me and was like, “What the hell you give that li’l ol’ hot-tailed gal my number for? You got a life insurance policy out on me or somethin’?”
I assured him that it wasn’t me who gave Ms. Vic his number. I’ve got better sense than that. No, see, that’s the type of stunt that’s got Squirrel written all over it. If anybody’s liable to cold straight set a brother up, he’s the one. I still owe dude some payback for the number he pulled on me a couple nights ago.
There I was, laid up on the sofa, listening to some music and trying not to nod off after having done my eight hours and then some when the phone rang. On seeing my cousin Squirrel’s number flash up on the caller ID, I picked up and was like, “Yo, partner. What’s shaking?”
He said, “You got it, cuz. What you doing tonight and who wit?”
I told him, “Same ol’ same ol’, man. Nothing and nobody. Why? What you into?”
He sorta laughed and was like, “Since I’ll be in your neck of the woods in another five minutes, why don’t I just stop by and let you see for yourself?”
I had a hunch he wasn’t exactly riding solo that night. So when he turned up on my doorstep a few minutes later, the fact that he had a woman with him didn’t surprise me. But when I realized that the woman in question was none other than ol’ worrisome-ass Nora, I didn’t even bother trying to suppress the “Damn!” that jumped up outta my throat in one loud, mad bark.
Nora grinned, pinched me on the cheek, and said, “Nice seeing you again too, sweetie.”
I pointed a finger at Squirrel and told him, “Now, how you gonna do me like this, man? Haven’t I always had your back?”
He shrugged and was like, “Hey, man, when it comes to making the ladies happy, a brother’s gotta do what a brother’s gotta do. And if I’m not mistaken, it was you who first hip me to that sweet fact of life.”
Nora said, “Don’t go blaming Nigel. If you’da answered your phone or tried to call somebody back sometime, it wouldn’t have had to go down like this.”
In my head I’m thinking, Nigel? It’d been so long since I’d heard anybody call dude by his given name that I’d almost forgotten it. The realization that these two coconuts had gone and gotten quite chummy since the night of my party kind of threw me for a minute. But on regrouping, I let Nora know that if she’d come to plead on her girl’s behalf, she was wasting her time, Nigel’s, and mine. Not only had I lost interest, I’d already moved on to bigger and better things.
That’s when Nigel—I mean Squirrel—jumped all in the mix with, “Man, you know you oughta stop telling that tale. Ever since you and Red fell out with one another, you ain’t been doing nothing ’sides laying around here whining, pining, and wearing the grooves out on all of them old dusty Al Green albums you got.”
I stopped pacing the floor long enough to look at that fool and say, “Keep on, hear. I’d hate to have to up and whup your ass in front of company.”
Nora said, “Carl, I know you’re upset, but if you’d just calm down for a sec, I think I could explain to you how that whole situation with the kid transpired.”
I threw up my arms and was like, “Hello! News flash! Being that I do have three of my own, I think I pretty much know everything I need to about how that whole thing with the kid transpired.”
Nora invited herself to a seat next to me and said, “Don’t play, Carl. You know damn well that’s not what I meant.” Then, looking all serious and teary-eyed, she took both of my hands into
her own and squeezed them before she said, “She wanted to tell you, Carl. Really, and I’m sure she would have had things not gotten so muddled early on between the two of you. But what you need to try and understand is that very few people in Faye’s inner circle know that this child even exists. The shame and secrecy of it all is something I’ve watched her struggle with for years. Hell, it’s been over a decade and to this day she still hasn’t found a way to tell her folks.”
Squirrel butted in with a “Yeah, go on and cut the girl some slack, dog. Ain’t like none of that mess you did behind Bet’s back while y’all was married was any less foul.” Before I could fix my mouth to cuss him out, he picked up my phone and tossed it to me and said, “Call her up, why don’t you? From what I understand, she and ol’ boy done already went their separate ways. Ain’t that right, Nora?”
She nodded and said, “Umm-hmm. I don’t know what you waiting on. You know she’s had you sprung since that first night y’all hooked up to watch videos.”
Determined to stand my ground, I shook my head and told them both, “Nope. Not gonna happen. Not this time around. If Faye wants to make things right, she knows where and how to find me. Until then, I’d kindly appreciate the two of you leaving me the hell alone to enjoy all of my musty, dusty Al Green albums in peace and by my damn self!”
On her way out the door, Nora pulled up short, cocked her head to one side, and said, “Al Green, huh? You know, Faye listens to him a lot these days. Marvin too. And for some reason here lately, that After the Dance track is one she can’t hardly seem to get enough of.”
HER
I was milling around in the bakery section of the grocery store the other night, trying to decide if I was in the mood for the chocolate doughnuts or the French twists, when I heard this voice behind me: “Goodness, girl, you’ve lost even more weight since the last time I saw you, haven’t you?”
When I turned around, the smiling face that greeted me belonged to none other than Miss Betty, Carl’s ex. Always the friendly one, after embracing me with a warm hug, she looked at the pastry boxes I was clutching in each hand and said, “That’s right, girl. Go on and get it out your system. A binge every now and then ain’t never hurt nobody—just so long as you don’t let it turn into an every-other-night affair.”
I laughed and assured her that I only planned to buy one box and I’d have to find a way to sneak that past Nora’s greedy tail.
We stood there like old friends, shooting the breeze about this, that, and the other for several minutes. She told me she’d just dropped the girls off at a friend’s house for a sleepover, while she herself had made plans to spend the evening with her friend Charles—the tall, strapping, chocolate chunk of eye candy I’d met briefly at her sister’s wedding. And evidently the prescription her physician’s got her on is doing the trick, because every time girlfriend said her boy Charles’s name, she looked durn near on the verge of wetting on herself. Too polite to come right out and ask me if I had anything on my Friday-night itinerary besides the box of pastries I was hanging on to for dear life, Miss Betty instead asked me why I hadn’t been by her place to pick up the pictures.
Yeah, girl, about a week prior to our run-in at the grocery store, Betty had called and left a message with Nora about some pictures from the wedding that the twins wanted me to have. Now you know durn well I’d just about had my fill of pictures of any kind, so I hadn’t been in what you might call too big of a hurry to get back with her.
After I fibbed and told her I’d been busy but that I fully intended to drop by her place one day soon, she went and did me one better. She said, “Well, guess what? You’re in luck. It just so happens that I’ve got them with me.”
Hell! Wasn’t anything I could do but follow her over to one of the little cafe-style tables they have in the store’s bakery section and watch while she dug around in her purse. On finding the package, she first passed me all of the cute snapshots of the twins and said, “They insisted that I made sure you got these.”
I smiled and was about to tell Betty that I’d have to call the girls later and thank them, when she added, “And oh, don’t let me forget these.”
A tremor raced up my back as I stared down at the photos the girls had taken of me and Carl cuddled up on the bench beneath the trees. Totally speechless, I just sat there for a moment gazing at the pictures and trying not to let on that they made me feel one way or another.
Betty took it upon herself to fill in the pause with a surprisingly tender “You really do make a nice couple.”
I looked up and without the slightest hint of humor in my voice said, “You think? I bet people said the same thing about the two of you when you were together.”
Being the lady that she is, she ignored my saltiness and asked if I’d talked to Carl lately.
I shouldered up my pocketbook, like I was ready to go, looked hard at Betty, and said, “I’m sure you already know that I haven’t.”
She stared back just as hard and said, “Yes, but what I don’t get, for the life of me, Faye, is why? I know you’re not going to stand here and deny your feelings for him. Anybody who was paying the least bit of attention to the two of you that night at the party could tell otherwise. Don’t think I missed the way he was looking at you or the way you were trying not to look back at him.”
“Listen,” I said. “I don’t have any problems with saying that Carl’s one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever met, bar none. What woman wouldn’t be attracted to him?”
“So what’s the but?” she said. “Because if it has anything to do with that little hoochie who was shaking her little stank behind—”
“It doesn’t,” I told her. “I’d already messed things up between me and Carl long before she showed up in the picture.”
To my surprise, rather than try and coax all the sordid details out of me, Betty looked on in silence as I studied the pictures of me and Carl. After a few seconds or so, she placed a hand on my arm, dropped her head closer to mine, and said, “Hey, now here’s a thought. Why don’t you call Carl up and offer to bring a box of these baked goodies by his place tonight? Given that it’s a Friday evening, you and I both know it’s highly unlikely that he’s doing anything other than sitting up somewhere with his hands in his pants, watching some ol’ Pam Grier video.”
Even though we’d both enjoyed a good laugh behind the comment, don’t think I didn’t give it several minutes’ worth of serious thought after I left the grocery store that night. I even went so far as to pull out my cell phone a couple of times with the intent of calling him. In the end, though, I chickened out and decided it best to sleep on it, rather than do anything rash. Good thing I did too because as fate would have it, the following day is when I accidentally caught sight of the brother out frolicking in the park with his kids and some woman.
Yeah, girl, I was driving past Audubon Park late that Saturday afternoon when out of the corner of my eye I spotted them—Carl, the twins, Benjamin, and this woman. No, not his friend from the party. It was some other slim. And you know I circled back around just to be sure. In any case, given the grand ol’ time they were all having, chasing one another and rolling around in the grass, Ms. Thang was obviously someone Carl and the kids knew very well.
Seeing them out there like that pretty much messed me up for the rest of the day. From the looks of things, the worst had happened—I’d waited too late and homeboy had decided to move on without me. Even though on a certain intellectual level I could accept that, what I couldn’t do was just let it go. I was still in dire need of some sort of resolution to all that had happened between us. So come nightfall, I squared my shoulders, mustered up my courage, and made myself go to a place that emotionally I’d rarely if ever permitted myself to go before.
HIM
She called. It was a little past eleven on a Saturday night and I was laid up in bed, fully engaged in my favorite fantasy-dream sequence starring Angela Bassett, Vivica Fox, Lela Rochon, and yours truly. Irritated by the interrup
tion, I snatched up the receiver and said, “Yeah?”
She said, “Hello, Carl?”
The voice sounded familiar, but I was still somewhat on the groggy and confused side, so I guessed, “Nora?”
“No,” she said. “It’s me … Faye.”
“Faye?!” For some reason, man, I shot straight up in bed and bunched the sheets between my legs, as if I suddenly felt the family jewels in danger of being kicked, smacked, or in some manner assaulted.
“I’m sorry if I woke you,” she said.
“I wasn’t really asleep,” I said. “I was just laying up here, well—” I glanced down at my hand and gripped the sheet a little tighter before I said, “Anyway, what’s up on your side of town?”
“You were busy, weren’t you?” she asked, voice cracking around the edges. “You’ve got company?”
“Yes and no,” I said. “Angela, Vivica, and Lela were just leaving …”
She said, “Oh … I see. Maybe I ought to call back tomorrow then.”
I said, “Faye, I’m just joking. Are you okay? Is something wrong?”
“No, no, nothing’s wrong,” she said. “I was just thinking … about you …”
“About me?” I said. All of a sudden my grogginess was gone and my interest extremely piqued.
“Yes, you and the fact that I still have something that belongs to you,” she went on to say.
“Yeah, you do—my heart,” I whispered, half-joking, half-serious, and fully aroused at that point.
True to form, she ignored the comment and said, “Well, actually I was referring to your videotape—Wanda Does Watts. And if I’m not mistaken, I think you still have my book—Jungle Passions. So I was wondering if we could possibly get together and exchange them?”
I said, “Great. How soon can you get here?”
After The Dance Page 29