by Cydney Rax
LaNecia is yelling so loud I don’t have to see her to know what’s happening. “I swear to God, y’all men ain’t shit. You always make up the rules, but the world wasn’t made just for you, was it, you annoying bastard.”
Scottie extends his hand to me. I reach out and accept. His palm is surprisingly warm and comforting. He guides me to a less crowded area of the picnic grounds. As we’re walking, he suddenly starts cracking up. I join him, and we shake our heads in amazement. I clutch my belly with my free hand because I’m laughing so hard it hurts.
Scottie points to a wooden bench, releases my hand, and takes a seat. So I plop down beside him, kick off my flip-flops, and start swinging my feet back and forth.
“Damn, now where were we?” he says as his laughter subsides. He dabs his eyes with his thumb.
“Awww, don’t cry,” I say teasingly and grin. Jeez, this man’s green-gray eyes make me want to stare at him all day. “Like I was trying to tell you before we were interrupted, I’m Dani, the proud parent of one. My little boy, Brax, is somewhere around here running wild with his cousins. And, uh, I guess I should mention Neil and I know each other from way back.”
“I could tell something was up with you two, but he’s married, so …” Scottie says, his voice drifting off. He continues to stare at me. “You got a man?”
“Um, not really. I hang out, but no one serious.”
“You shitting me, Mariah Carey?”
“What you call me?” I grin and blush over the fact that he compared me to the attractive singer, even though I’m hardly as old as that narcissistic chick. His intense staring makes me feel beautiful, desirable, and the center of his attention.
Scottie reaches out and boldly brushes his fingers through my curls. He plays with my hair, twisting my locks around in a wide circle.
“You’re so fucking pretty that, just like Mariah, I know you make any other woman feel ugly. And,” he continues, his eyes running me up and down, “your body is scorching hot, mama. You oughta have ten men’s babies, not just one.”
“Yeah, that’s what I keep hearing, but reality is a trip.” His compliments make me feel like a princess. And even though we’ve just met, I decide to guide him past the typical outer-beauty crap and let him know me on a deeper level. “To be honest, Scottie, I-I’m at a point in my life where I want to find the right guy, fall in love, get settled, all that. I wouldn’t want ten men even if I could have ’em.”
“I hear ya. That’s what’s up.”
“And you?” I ask, offering him an encouraging smile. “You got someone?”
“Me? Naw, I’m not married.” He gives a pained look, stares into space, then mumbles, “No kids.” Then he says louder and looks dead in my eyes. “No commitment.”
“Ah, how old are you, if I may ask?”
“You can ask whatever you like,” he sings in a silly voice. “You can ask whatever you like. Yeah!” He bursts out laughing, and I do, too. “I’m twenty-five, babyyy.”
“Twenty-five, huh?” I gawk at him, impressed. I love his cockiness. Some younger guys still act like they’re afraid of the pussy, but not Scottie.
“Well, I’m in my late twenties. But a woman never tells her true age.”
“In my eyes you’ll never be past your twenties. You’ve got the type of looks that’ll keep you young forever.”
“So,” I say, glowing, “are you sure you don’t have a woman stashed away somewhere?”
“Positive.”
“Then why was LaNecia yelling at you?”
“Too damn long of a story … I’ll tell you about it one damn day.”
“Oh,” I respond, surprised. “Does that mean you plan to talk to me after today?”
“You damn fucking right I want to talk to you. I want to talk to you every day after today. Gimme your digits.”
I chuckle but don’t make a move to respond.
“What’s wrong? Am I making you nervous?”
“Nooo, Scottie.” I twist around in my seat until we’re facing each other. His eyes are so sincere, yet I detect sadness underneath the surface, like he has a story to tell, but he may not be willing to add it to his Facebook wall just yet.
“Scottie, I just want to do things different this time,” I tell him in a calm, measured voice. “I mean, in the past I’ve made, what, a thousand mistakes in relationships, and I-I am not in the market to get hurt again. Hurt hurts, ya know?”
“I know, darling.”
“You put all your hope on a guy, wishing things’ll work out…. One day you’re declaring your utmost love to each other…. By next week you’re telling the man to go to hell. He’s hollering so loud that neighbors can hear, calling you a cunt. Oops,” I say and laugh self-consciously. “I’m telling way too much.”
“No, do tell. I’m listening.”
“Bottom line is, I gotta make different choices. That make sense?”
“So you want my digits?”
I beam and give in. “Sure. If I feel like I want to talk …”
“Believe me, you are going to want to talk to me.”
“Like I said, if I feel like I want to talk to you, Scottie, I will definitely give you a call.”
I surrender my PDA and let him punch his contact info into my address book. He offers me his phone, and I input my number. Looking satisfied, he says, “Don’t forget, we made a pact. From now on we promised to talk to each other every day for the rest of our lives.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to say it, just do it. Okay, Dani?” He looks so adorably sincere, like a loving, oversize puppy. I nod and wonder what I’m getting myself into.
He tells me, “If you haven’t heard by now, people consider me a fuckup, but ask me if I care.”
“Nope, I haven’t heard a single thing about you.”
“Then let me be the one to tell you, mama.”
He takes time to fill me in on how some of the family either treats him like they expect him to fail or are waiting to hear the latest bad news about him.
“It ain’t like they perfect. Everybody got flaws. But for some reason, some of them are always pointing fingers at the kid, trying to make me feel like I’m not going to amount to anything. But I’ll prove ’em wrong. They my family and I love ’em, but fuck ’em.”
A comfortable silence develops between us, and we stare at each other.
Scottie rises to his big ole feet. He gently grabs my hand and whisks me out of my seat. “I love talking to you, darling, but we need to get back.”
“That’s okay. I’m cool.” I slide my feet into my flip-flops and stand up.
By the time we get back to the Meadows setup, I can tell the area is nearly filled to capacity. Elderly gray-haired ladies are slumped in wheelchairs. Middle-aged men are slapping dominoes on the table and yelling. And fast-ass teenage girls are wearing skintight jeans, twisting their lips, putting their hands on their hips, and yelling, all at the same time.
I continue looking around at all the people, wondering which table I’m going to sit at, when I realize it’s been a half hour since my son went to the wildlife habitat. He’s probably getting hungry like me. I need to pick him up.
I excuse myself from Scottie and take quick steps toward the sound of children’s voices. My tits nearly bounce out of my bikini top. I can feel the disapproving stares of senior women when I move past them. And although by my serious facial expression, it should be obvious I’ve got something important to do, all these grandmas can focus on is my appearance. But Dani’s got to be Dani, no matter what. And being sexy and desirable is the very essence of who I am.
“What y’all old bitches looking at?” I say to several bifocal-wearing women. I hope their hearing aids aren’t working.
“Hey, Dani, where are you headed?”
I’d recognize that voice anywhere—Sharvette, aka Vette, Neil’s lovely younger sister. I’m focused on picking up my son, so I’m in no mood to talk. I try to ignore Vette, but she screams
louder, “Hey, Dani, over here.”
I whirl around, ready to tell her I’ll get with her later, but when I see her holding Brax on her hip, the fight goes out of me.
“Awww, there’s my babyyy!” I step to him and plant a wet kiss on one of his fat, soft cheeks.
Vette explains. “I saw him with the other kids and couldn’t resist bringing him with me. I made him a plate of food, so he’s already eaten. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Nope, I don’t mind. Thanks, Vette. Speaking of food, I’m going to get me some right now. Will you find us a spot near the deejay booth? I’ll be right back.”
I stand in line and load my plate with barbecued brisket, baked beans, chilled veggie salad, and an ice-cold cup of lemonade.
Vette and Brax are sitting at a rectangular table inside the pavilion, which is only a few feet away from where the latest jams are being played. Scottie is stationed back at the music booth, spinning records and swaying to the beat.
“Glad you found us a good seat,” I tell her before settling down. I say my grace and dig in.
“Hmm, from the way you’re dressed, it looks like you want to find a man.”
“Vette, please. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Dani, you’re dressed like you should be at the beach, not a family picnic where you know some of these folks are preachers and deacons and mothers of the church. I’m telling you, they do not want to see all that.”
“Oops, well, excuse me. If I would have known this is a sanctified church convention, I would have worn my Little House on the Prairie dress and brought my three-inch Bible in case someone wants to hear a sermon. Get real, Vette. Most of these people don’t give a damn about me. They don’t even know me.”
“Oh, they know you all right. Some of them are just too classy to say anything. Better pray you don’t cross paths with the loud, opinionated ghetto side of our fam.”
All of a sudden, an elderly dark-skinned man wearing a clergyman’s shirt passes by.
“Good afternoon, sisters,” he says politely and waves, but he doesn’t stop.
“How you doing, sir?” I greet him and fold my arms over my breasts even though he’s just moved past us.
“See what I’m talking about?” Vette hisses at me. “That man shouldn’t be seeing your body parts. I don’t care how much of an adult he is. And you can bet most of my other relatives feel the same way.”
I scan the crowd. Watching so many unfamiliar people happily socializing and hugging makes me feel utterly alone—like I’m invisible, but I know I’m not because every few seconds, I notice a few folks checking me out on the sly. They’re probably wondering what I’m doing here, the former “other woman.” And I’ll bet they can’t wait to see what may happen when Neil’s wife and I cross paths. There’re often fireworks between me and Anya since our history is so emotionally raw.
Several years ago, Anya suffered from a hormonal disorder that left her with such a low sex drive she never wanted to make love. She felt guilty for denying Neil sex and told her hubby it was okay by her if he found a mistress. At first, Neil was reluctant to find another partner. But then, being a man, he went for it. I was his cute, spirited coworker who had the hots for him. Back then, the man was everything I wanted. So we hooked up every time we could, anywhere we could, and enjoyed some of the most passionate, experimental sex I’d ever had. He fell in love. I did, too. Our son, Brax, was the “shocking” outcome.
I’m lost in deep thought until I hear someone say my name.
“And this next joint goes out to the gorgeous Ms. Dani F.” The voice is loud, excited.
I hear the thumping bass line of a Lil Wayne song. I slowly turn my head around until I get an unobstructed view of the deejay booth. Scottie grins in my direction.
Several couples spill onto the dance floor, singing and doing some funky hip-hop moves.
“My brother is giving you serious attention,” Vette says, winking. “What’s up with that?”
“We met, instantly clicked, exchanged numbers. I think he’s kind of cool,” I reply. Scottie and I lock eyes. I can feel Vette staring at us.
“Vette,” I beg. “Will you watch the baby for me?”
“Girl, go ahead and do your thing.” I thank her, then leap from my seat to the dance floor. I gyrate my hips and sing along to Lil Wayne’s rhymes. I love it that Scottie dedicated a song to me. I want to enjoy the moment and begin to dance like I’m performing onstage at the freaking Toyota Center.
“I don’t believe this shit!” LaNecia appears from nowhere, shouting at me as she approaches. This chick has the nerve to stand in front of me, competing with me for Scottie’s attention.
“Who invited you here?” she asks.
What’s with her? Can’t she see I’m busy?
“Excuse me?” I ask, still rocking to the beat and shaking my ass. “Do I know you?”
“You may not know me now … but you will.” She rudely narrows her eyes on my outfit. “Why are you dressed like that? You know what they say about people who dress all skimpy like you?”
“No, I don’t know what they say. But fill me in.”
“You’re dressed like a whore. No, not like a whore …”
I stop dancing. “I am a whore? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“Yep.”
“Look, little girl, whoever you are,” I say sarcastically.
“I’m LaNecia.” She points at a wooden necklace she’s wearing that spells out the sentence “LaNecia is the SH#&.” Obviously monogrammed. “Can’t you read?”
“I am a grown-ass woman, Miss LaNecia. I don’t know why you gots to be all up in my face. I was invited, if you don’t mind, and I’m about to finish dancing. The good part is about to come on.” I start rocking back and forth to the music again.
“You’re too old to be dancing to Lil Wayne anyway.”
“And how in the hell do you know how old I am?” I jiggle my butt and gyrate my hips.
LaNecia opens her mouth again like she’s about to go off on me. The clergyman returns and steps past us to talk to Scottie at the deejay booth. I do a bunny-hopping dance move and bounce over a few spaces past LaNecia so I can discreetly check out the happenings. The clergyman gestures at Scottie like he wants him to please stop the music. Scottie shakes his head. Turns the music up louder. Boom, boom, boom! I can feel the cement floor vibrate like aftershocks rumbling under my feet.
Clergyman frowns and cups his hands over his mouth, yells something at Scottie. LaNecia swings her head around and storms over to the deejay booth, leaving me by myself. Soon she and the clergyman begin arguing.
I put two and two together. The way that she listens to the preacher, then points a hard finger at Scottie, I can tell she’s defending him. The question is, Why is she taking up for Scottie over a man of the cloth? And I want to know why she’s given me a lot of attitude when she doesn’t so much as know my name.
Meanwhile, I notice that people are now craning their necks and staring more at LaNecia’s antics than at me and my fancy dance moves. I slow things down a notch until I’m standing still. Thankfully, I hear my name being called and turn around to see Brax sitting on Vette’s lap. He waves happily at me. I wave back, then return to our table, take a seat next to them, and scoop Brax into my arms. I give him a loving hug. He squirms and yells, “No, Mommy, too tight!” I laugh, because I’m positive he knows I didn’t squeeze him that hard.
“All right then, fine. Be that way,” I say and cover my face with my hands and start sniffing loudly and moaning. “Ahhh,” I cry. I peek at Brax through my fingers. His mouth is wide open as he gapes at me with his big ole pretty eyes.
“Mama, don’t cry. Sorry.”
I look up, laugh, and squeeze his cheek. “Got ya, Brax.”
He laughs, too, giving me a toothy grin.
“Y’all so crazy, Dani. You are still the same, girl.” Vette shakes her head and starts sipping on a clear plastic cup filled with lemonade and ice chi
ps. “And that’s exactly why my cousin LaNecia feels threatened.”
I lean in closer. “I’ve noticed her bad attitude. What’s up with her?”
“I’m not sure you’re ready for this part of our family history.”
“C’mon Vette, quit messing around. I’m sick of this girl acting crazy with me, so go ahead and tell me. I can take it.”
“Here it goes. If you sense something is up between Scottie and LaNecia, you’re not imagining things. Um, they kind of took the ‘kissing cousin’ concept to the extreme a while ago….”
“Stop.” I cover my ears. “I don’t wanna hear it.”
Vette pulls down my hands. “If you plan on being involved with my brother, you need to hear this, trust.” She continues. “Scottie sometimes has poor judgment. He acts first, thinks later. That method has gotten him in tons of trouble. Don’t get me wrong. Scottie has a good heart. He tries very hard … but sometimes all that good is overtaken by the bad.”
“And where does that girl come in?”
“He got her pregnant….”
“I can’t take this!”
“Calm down. They lost the baby, and they’ve been over, but she thinks she’s in love with him.” Vette pauses. “And that confrontation y’all went through on the dance floor … prepare to go through much more than that if you’re interested in Scottie Meadows. LaNecia is the type to take you to hell and back.”
I sigh heavily and try to process what Vette has told me. Sounds like LaNecia is a crazy young lady that I may have to introduce to my other side—the part of me that comes out to prove that I am more than just a pretty face. This pretty face can get downright ugly when it has to.
Suddenly Vette looks up and yells excitedly. This dark-skinned chubby girl parades to our table.
“What up, Karetha?” Vette greets her.
“Ain’t nothing up,” the girl responds. She looks like she’s in her early twenties. Although I try to make eye contact to say hello, she totally blows me off as if I’m not sitting right next to Vette. No biggie. I’m accustomed to all kinds of women ignoring me like they can’t stand the sight of me even though technically I’ve done nothing to deserve their attitude.