by Ray, Shamara
“Melina can be stubborn like her mother.”
“I heard that,” my mother shouted from the kitchen.
“I’m not being stubborn.”
“Another thing she got from her mother—she disagrees with everything I say.”
“That’s not true, Daddy.”
“See what I mean? You sure you want marry this girl?” he said, laughing.
I leaned my head on Ellis’s shoulder. “He’s sure. I have the ring to prove it.” I held my hand out for my father to see.
My father looked at my ring and then up at Ellis. He reached his hand out and held mine in his. “This is my one and only baby, Ellis. You better treat her right.”
“Mr. Bradford, I will take care of your daughter to the best of my ability. Lina will want for nothing.”
“That’s all a father can ask for.”
• • •
We sat around the dining room table after dinner, nibbling on dessert. I pushed a piece of pie from one side of the plate to the other. As tasty as it was I couldn’t manage another bite.
“Dinner was delicious, Mrs. Bradford. I haven’t had a meal like that in years.”
“What does your mother make on Thanksgiving?”
Ellis and I shared a laugh. My mother waited with slight confusion registered on her face.
“Mother doesn’t cook. I can’t remember a time when she did. She’ll have her chef serve a turkey, but she stays away from Southern fare. Now when my father was living, occasionally he would demand a plate of soul food. But it was rare, and Mother resisted when she could.”
“Well, anytime you want some down-home Southern cooking I’ll fix it up for you.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that.”
“I’m just sorry we never had the opportunity to meet your father.”
“You would have loved him, Mom. Dr. Harlow was a good man.”
Ellis nodded his agreement. “I would like to have you and Mr. Bradford come to New York to meet my mother. I know Lina wants her mother, and her mother-in-law-to-be, to help plan the wedding.”
“I was just telling my husband that we haven’t been to visit Melina in a long time.”
“Why don’t we arrange for you to come up in a few weeks? Don’t concern yourself with a hotel; you can stay at my house. I’ll have Mother come in from the city and we can make a weekend of it.”
Ellis called Bebe after we finished dessert to inquire about her availability. I spoke to her briefly and she was actually quite civil. By the time we hung up the phone with his mother, my parents had confirmed that they would definitely be visiting us in New York in a few weeks. I was excited that my parents would get to see my future home; I wasn’t so sure I felt the same about my future mother-in-law.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
MALIK
I heaved the cooler full of beer from the back of Terrence’s truck. Lex poured charcoal into the barbeque grill while Amir and Terrence set up the table. We were at the Jets game at the Meadowlands Arena in New Jersey, getting ready to set off our after-Thanksgiving tailgate party.
The sun was shining, but it was cold outside. I was layered in a thermal shirt, turtleneck, T-shirt, a Jets sweatshirt and a scarf. I also had on gloves with the fingertips cut out. No sooner than I released the cooler did Lex open the lid and plunge his hands down in the ice in search of a Corona.
“Damn, man, it’s only nine-thirty in the morning. You’re starting already?” I said.
“If I wanted a sermon I would’ve taken my ass to church. Stop sweatin’ me and hand me the bottle opener.”
I tossed Lex the opener. “Don’t go burning up our food because your ass is too drunk to man the grill.”
We started every tailgate party off with a breakfast of steak and eggs. By game time we were on to the burgers, dogs, chicken and ribs.
“I’ll cook the food before I let this fool ruin my T-bone,” Terrence said.
Amir shook his head. “Yo, y’all brothers eat too much. You stuffed your faces on Thanksgiving, ate leftovers all day Friday and Saturday, and now y’all are about to pig out on barbeque.”
“Man, go blow that hot air in your horn,” I said, laughing.
Lex gave me a pound. “I hear that. If Amir don’t want his T-bone I’ll eat it.”
“Y’all Negroes are just greedy. Make my steak medium rare and my eggs over easy. Lex, you can have whatever scraps are left when I’m done,” Amir said.
“Keep talking shit and you’re going to be using your steak to cover your black eye.”
We rolled off of that one. The digs were already underway and we had the whole day ahead of us. I hooked up the portable television to check the reception. Lex brought his TV to the last tailgate party and the picture had so much snow, we thought there was a blizzard inside the stadium. I purchased a new one because I sure as hell wasn’t going to struggle to see the game on Lex’s snowstorm in a box again.
The lot was filled with fellow tailgaters, grilling and setting up sterno racks filled with trays of food, laying out six-foot subs, salads, you name it. Ticketholders think they’re living the life inside the stadium, sitting in their box seats, but there’s nothing like the energy at a tailgate party. The real party isn’t in the stadium; it’s out in the parking lot.
The smell from our steaks hit me as Lex turned them over. He put a cast iron frying pan on the other side of the grill to make the eggs. Lex was our official grill master—and not just at games. At any of our barbeques or picnics you would find Lex behind the grill. He piled the sizzling meat into an aluminum pan and finished with the eggs. We lined up at the table, grabbing paper plates and plastic forks and knives for our breakfast.
“Dru needs to learn how to make a steak from you,” Terrence said.
Lex threw a piece of meat in his mouth. “You mean to tell me you’re marrying a woman that can’t cook?”
“Don’t start talking about my girl,” Terrence said, pointing his plastic knife at Lex. “She does all right. But sometimes the food is a little bland.”
“You better introduce Dru to Adobo—the all-purpose seasoning,” I said laughing, almost choking on my steak.
“And when was the last time you had a woman cook for your ass?” Terrence said.
“I have two women cooking for me.”
Amir set his plate down. “What two women do you have?”
“That just goes to show you that I don’t need no horn to seduce a woman into making me a meal.”
“I don’t need it either, but my sax gets me a hell of a lot of perks that you ain’t getting.”
Lex leaned forward in his chair. “I want you to get back to your brother’s question. What two chicks you got?”
I grabbed a beer from the cooler and took my time opening it. I took a long swallow, making them wait. “I told you all about Kai. Baby doll is doing everything in her power to get Big Daddy to keep her company, including cooking.”
“So a brother is getting a little nookie and a hot meal to go with it,” Lex said.
They cracked up laughing.
“I always gets mine. That ain’t nothing new.”
“You’re stalling, brotha,” Terrence said. “Who’s the other woman?”
“Mel,” I said. “Mel cooks for me all the time.”
“Awwwww man,” they yelled in unison.
“You ain’t hittin’ that,” Lex said.
“I didn’t say I was. I said I have two women cooking for me—and I do.”
“But you wish you were getting a piece of that sweetness, don’t you?” Amir said.
“C’mon, man. Mel and I don’t get down like that.”
“You’ve never pushed up on that?”
“No.”
“Malik, we got the same mother. You can’t lie to me.” Amir was in hysterics. “I’ve known you your entire life. I remember when you were hitting on girls in kindergarten. You can’t help yourself. Tell the truth. You’ve never peeped shorty coming out the shower or peeked through her key
hole while she was getting dressed?”
“Nah, man. I respect Mel.”
Lex shook his head in disbelief. “I know your ass is lying. Your roommate is too fine for you to be frontin’ on the booty.”
“Mel’s fine, but she’s not my type. I like ’em wild like Kai. No inhibitions and always willing to please.”
“Kai’s all that?”
I nodded. “And some.”
Kai was a bad specimen. I usually flaunted my women around the crew, we all did, sort of like a who-has-the-baddest-chick competition. For some reason, I didn’t want to bring Kai around—probably because I worked with her. I wanted to keep my personal life private from my colleagues. I lived one way and worked another. It was a way to guarantee that a person never really got to know me. They saw the “me” that I wanted to portray, not the “me” that I really was. At this point, Kai had limited access to a brother. The last thing I needed was for her to see me clowning with my boys, then go back to the office with a negative impression of me, thinking I wasn’t serious enough to perform my job. If she had showed up to go to Terrence and Dru’s engagement party it would have been all right because my boys were all on their best behavior. But for her to be with us when were just sitting around shooting the shit, that would’ve been another story. I had already disregarded some of my basic rules by hanging out with Kai and her friends on Thanksgiving night.
After I had the obligatory turkey dinner with my family, I scooped Kai up and drove her to Justine and Ira’s home in Scarsdale. Justine met us at the door in a low-cut shirt with cleavage spilling out the top. I moved to shake her hand and she pulled me into a hug, rubbing her breasts against my chest. I pulled away and she winked at me. Kai didn’t catch the exchange because she had already gone into the house. Ira was in their living room in a smoking jacket with a cigar clenched between his teeth. He sat in his chair ensconced in a cloud of smoke. He explained that he was only allowed to enjoy his Cubans on special occasions and intended to smoke all night long. Kai told me that Ira was a successful television producer—somehow Justine managed to slip his pants off and start wearing them herself. Kai and I stayed a few hours and had a couple of drinks. We consumed Ira’s good scotch and talked about advertising and product placement in television and movies. Ira was an all right guy. He was content as long as he had his cigars and, if allowed, some food. I felt sorry for him, though, as his wife salaciously eyed me throughout the evening. When Kai and I were leaving, Justine hugged me a little too long and a little too tight. Later that night, I found her cell phone number in my blazer pocket.
• • •
More laughter snapped me out of my reverie. Lex was running his mouth about making a Kai and Melina sandwich—they could be the bread and he’d provide the meat.
“Chill out, man,” I said.
Terrence put his hand on Lex’s shoulder before he could respond. “I think the pre-show is about to start. Turn up the volume on the TV.”
We crowded around the little television, but we weren’t listening. We conducted our own pre-show commentary on the teams and players. I kept an eye on the game once it started, but I mostly drank beer and talked shit with my boys. The Jets went into the fourth quarter with a twenty-point lead and on to win the game, as expected.
I drove home thinking about how I’d never had a problem popping shit about women with my boys, but today was different. I didn’t want Kai or Melina disrespected. These women were off limits. No tasteless jokes. As far as I was concerned, they deserved better than that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
MELINA
Malik wandered into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of orange juice. I hadn’t seen him all week, not even a glimpse of him since returning from Maryland. I diced apples for apple cinnamon pancakes.
Malik snatched an apple wedge from the cutting board. “Pancakes. Sausage. Grits. Eggs. What, are you cooking for an army?”
“Charlee and Giselle are coming over for brunch.”
“Seems like a lot of food for your girls. I’m willing to stick around and help you eat all of this, so you don’t waste it.”
“I bet you are. Where are you off to anyway?”
“Kai needs me to go with her to get her car serviced.”
“Oh, then you better not keep her waiting.” I chopped into an apple and sent half of it flying off the cutting board.
Malik bent down to retrieve the apple from the floor. He tossed it in the garbage and then lingered in the doorway for a moment. “I’ll see you later, Mel.”
“All right,” I said without looking up from what I was doing.
The apartment door closed behind Malik and I immediately started mumbling to myself. “All of a sudden he’s all wrapped up in Kai. Meanwhile, I’m taking messages all week from his chicks that couldn’t reach him on his cell phone because he’s wrapped up somewhere with Kai. Please. I’m not his damn secretary.”
“I know you’re not my secretary.”
I shrieked, dropping the knife onto the counter. “Oh, my God, I thought you left,” I said, with my hand on my chest, trying to calm my frantically beating heart.
“You heard me close the closet door. So what’s the problem?”
“What’s the problem?” I repeated. “I’m . . .I’m just tired of taking messages for you, that’s all.”
Malik grimaced at me. “I barely get calls on this phone. But let’s skip the debate and pretend you won. You want me to get my own phone?”
“It would be nice.”
“Done. Anything else?”
“No, that’s it.”
“Cool.”
The buzzer rang and Malik pressed the button to open the front door. “I’ll leave the door open for your girls.”
He turned and left the kitchen. I rinsed my hands at the sink. Charlee and Giselle called out to me as they came in the door. I went to greet them in the living room.
“Malik damn near knocked us over on his way out,” Charlee said.
“You know Malik is a trip.”
“What was he so upset about?” Giselle asked, rubbing her stomach.
I touched her round belly and smiled. “Who cares. Let’s talk about you and how cute you look pregnant.”
Giselle had on a fitted crochet sweater with a pair of faded jeans and some bad high-heel suede boots.
“Do I also look like my back is aching? Because it is.”
Charlee rolled her eyes. “Stop complaining and enjoy the ride.”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t have phrased it that way, but I agree. You’re four months pregnant and you’re beautiful. You haven’t gained an ounce anywhere other than your stomach. What more could you ask for?”
Giselle’s smile dimmed. “A lot, but I won’t go there. What’s to eat? You know you have to keep me and my baby well-fed.”
I led them into the kitchen and they sat at the table. I placed fruit salads in front of each of them.
Charlee frowned. “I ain’t pregnant. Give lil mama the fruit salad. I’ll wait for the real food.” She pushed her bowl in front of Giselle.
“Everything will be done in a minute.”
“Good because I’m starving. Last night, the finest man I have ever met, sexed me down something proper.”
“Aren’t you getting a little old for one-night stands?” I asked.
Charlee looked at Giselle and Giselle looked at me. “You’re never too old,” Giselle said.
They laughed a laugh that said they were in total agreement. I shook my head and continued to pour perfect circles of pancake batter onto the griddle.
“You are such a Pollyanna,” Charlee said with a dismissive wave. She turned to her partner in crime and continued her story. “I was at Club Fiasco last night for an album release party for one of my groups and I peeped this dude the minute I walked into the club. He was a dead ringer for Boris Kodjoe. You know I couldn’t resist giving him one of my sexy smiles when I strolled by him. I didn’t turn around to see if he was scoping me becau
se I knew he had to be. About a half an hour later I was chilling in the lounge area and a waitress brings over a bottle of champagne, a bottle of Patron and a bottle of Remy VSOP. She points to homeboy sitting at the bar and says he wants to buy me a drink and if his selections don’t entice me, let her know, and she’ll bring me my drink of choice. I told her the champagne was fine and she could take the Patrón and Remy back with her. She tells me he instructed that after I made my selection, the other two bottles were for my friends. I told her to invite him over to have a taste with me.”
I flipped the pancakes over and they were a tad past golden. “Girl, I got so caught up in your story I’m over here burning breakfast.”
Giselle shushed me like we were in a movie theater. “Go ahead, Charlee.”
“So he joined me on the sofa and introduced himself as Torrey Biggs. He’s a sports agent. I was relieved he wasn’t in the music industry. Y’all know how I hate dealing with men in the industry—always wanting to talk business and always trying to see what I can do for them. Anyway, Torrey and I got acquainted over a bottle of champagne and a couple of dances, then made our way to the W Hotel.” Charlee fanned herself with her napkin. “What happened in that hotel room is too raunchy to divulge.”
“You better spill it,” Giselle said.
“If you insist,” Charlee said, giggling. I put a platter of pancakes on the table and sat down to listen. “Torrey had my panties around my ankles, and his face buried in my pussy, before the door closed behind us. I tore his shirt trying to undo his buttons. We were sprawled across the bed in the sixty-nine position, his tongue all in my pussy and my mouth wrapped around his big dick—and I mean big. His last name ain’t no lie. Girls, he flipped me over and fucked me from the back so hard I was wailing like a banshee. The entire floor had to hear me. And that was only the first session. We fucked two more times.”
“I hope you used a condom,” I said.
“Shut up, Pollyanna. You can ruin a wet dream. Yes, we used a condom and I’m on the pill. Now what do you have to say?”
“Nothing,” I mumbled.
Giselle laughed. “I wish it was me getting done by a Boris look-alike. Keep the stories coming, Charlee. I’ll live vicariously through you while this little load has me out of commission. Lord knows Melina doesn’t have any exciting tales.”