Young, Rich & Black

by Nia Forrester

  Rashad’s face softened and he grabbed her hand again. “I know that, Zora. I mean, that’s what I’ve been saying. A woman like you. That’s like my destiny. So, we should …”

  Zora sat up straight, suddenly clear-headed once again.

  “Stop,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “Don’t say anymore. I don’t think you’re understanding me.”

  “What am I not understanding?”

  “I’m not … saying this because I want us to get back together, Shad. I’m saying it because … because we won’t get back together. And I just wanted you to know that even so, you’ve been important to me. You helped me grow and figure out so many things about myself. And for that I can’t even begin to …”

  “Don’t say it. Don’t say, ‘I can’t begin to thank you’, Zora. Just … don’t. I wasn’t your fucking academic advisor. I was your man.” He looked away from her and shook his head. “I can’t believe this shit. Are you getting all weepy because you’re over there strung out over some other nigga? And feeling guilty about it? Is that wh …”

  “Shad, we’re not like a couple anymore. And we hadn’t been for a long time. It doesn’t have anything to do with anyone else. I mean, are you even in love with me?”

  “Of course I am! What do you think I was trying to say?” His voice was an angry whisper.

  “But you didn’t. You didn’t say that.”

  Rashad looked at her, his expression exasperated. “I have said it, Zora. A million times since we got together. And if it makes you happy, I’ll say it a million more times.”

  “It wouldn’t make me happy, because it’s not true. Just now? Do you know what you said to me? You said that a woman like me was your destiny. You didn’t say I was your destiny. It isn’t even about me at all. It’s about the image you have in your head of the kind of woman who fits into your picture for your life.

  “And I don’t blame you for that, because I have a picture too. And you’re the one who helped me paint it. That’s what I was trying to say. That you helped me picture my path. And that’s what was so beautiful about us …”

  Rashad’s face softened once again. “You helped me, too,” he said finally. “We were a good team.”

  “We are a good team,” Zora said. “But just not …”

  “Yeah. I know.” He leaned back in his seat and looked at her, a sad smile on his face.

  “Do you hate me now?” she asked softly.

  He shook his head, squeezed her hand. “I could never hate you, Zora.”

  “And I could never stand it if you did.”

  Smiling a smile that was just the tiniest bit sad, Rashad leaned in and pulled Zora toward him across the table. And they kissed, a sweet kiss of closure.

  Just then, they heard a shout of raucous laughter and turned toward it, breaking apart. A few tables away, Deuce’s friend Kaleem sat, sharing a joke with two girls. And as they looked on, Deuce emerged from the back of the pub where the restrooms were, to join them. Reaching into his back pocket to first pull out his wallet, he slid in next to one of the girls, who was busty with strawberry blonde hair and too much lipstick for a weekday.

  Seeing him made Zora’s heart lurch, and then race. He looked really good, wearing a charcoal grey long-sleeved t-shirt and washed out, slightly baggy jeans. Only seeing him now did she realize just how much she had missed him. And that was saying something, since she already knew she missed him a lot. While her eyes were still on him, he reached for his jacket which had been slung over the back of his chair and shrugged it on.

  “This town is just too damn small,” Rashad muttered. “You want to leave?”

  Zora shook her head numbly. “No.” She watched as a waitperson brought Deuce and his party the bill. As the server was about to duck away again, Deuce held her wrist and handed her the credit card with the slip. “Looks like they’re about to. And anyway … it’s no big deal,” she lied.

  Zora turned to look at Rashad and he had a wry look on his face. Sipping his water, he leaned back in his seat yet again.

  “Human relationships,” he said, sounding resigned. “They’re complicated.”

  Chapter 10

  “Damn, man! Are you already lit?”

  Deuce opened his door to admit Kaleem and their dates for the evening. Blinking, he grinned at his friend. “Just a little head-start. Good evening, ladies.”

  He gave a little bow to Tamara and Lisa, two of his and Kaleem’s stand-bys—chicks who were always willing and available for some good, old-fashioned no-strings fun. Tamara was his, if one could call her that. Tall and leggy, she looked destined to be on the pages of a men’s magazine posing in a beer ad, wearing short-shorts and a much-too-small tank top. She was pretty, but in an obvious, almost pedestrian way that Deuce had lately come to think of as boring.

  “I missed you,” she said, kissing him on the lips. Her mouth tasted waxy from the lip-stain she was wearing, and Deuce had to force himself not to wipe it off.

  “Ready to roll?” he asked, grabbing his keys.

  “Roll?” Kal laughed. “Hell nah we ain’t drivin’ with your drunk ass. We about to hoof it over there. It’s not that cold.”

  “I’m not hoofin’ it anywhere,” Deuce said.

  “I haven’t been drinking,” Lisa said, snatching the keys from between his fingers. “I’ll drive tonight.”

  Kal shrugged, and looked at Deuce for confirmation.

  “Yeah. Cool,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  The party was the first big one since Winter Break, and he needed it. He’d only been back one week and it had been pretty crappy to begin with, culminating in yesterday’s run-in with Zora. Well, it wasn’t accurate to call it a run-in since he hadn’t been witness to it himself. But Kal had given him a vivid picture to stew on while he was alone in his room at night.

  According to Kal, when he was in the men’s room at Mulvane’s Zora had come in with Rashad Dixon and after what looked like a very animated and emotional conversation, they had kissed. Kissed. Just hearing about it, and then thinking about it—over, and over and over again—after the fact made Deuce feel like putting his hand through a wall.

  He’d been pissed enough to almost call her again. But he’d done that for five days straight after she left Jersey, and to no avail. She didn’t want to see him. It was as simple as that. After all the time they spent together, after New Year’s Eve … after everything, she didn’t want to see him.

  And so he had to leave it at that.

  Or at least try to leave it at that. Because that was the deal. Except he couldn’t recall anything about her cutting him off. He thought they would at least be … friends? Hell, even that sounded implausible. So maybe she thought it best for them both to have a clean break. Truth was, he had been flying by the seat of his pants when he suggested they ‘shed expectations and enjoy each other.’ He didn’t even know what the hell that meant. In the moment, all he wanted, all he had been asking for was for her to leave all their baggage behind and just be.

  Part of what made yesterday so messed up was that Kal didn’t even know what happened over Break. Deuce hadn’t told a single soul. And the only reason Kal mentioned seeing Zora at all was because he was ruminating on how he had missed his chance with her. Keeping it all in after that, not telling even his closest friend what was going on, had literally driven Deuce to drink.

  Since it was Thursday and he had no classes on Fridays, he started early. And now that it was Saturday, his only plan was to continue drinking, dry out on Sunday for class on Monday and then start the whole routine over again. He figured that after a few weeks of that treatment, he would have detoxed Zora right out of his system.

  “You ready to go?” Lisa asked.

  Deuce realized he was standing at his door, staring into space, and everyone was looking at him strangely, most especially Lisa. Lisa, a petite blonde who was on the women’s track team and met Kal while working out, was actually a cool chick. Sometimes Deuce felt badly for her because he kne
w she had genuine feelings for Kal, who was only playing around until he found “his queen.” If she had a chance, Lisa would probably want to date Kal openly, bring him home to meet the family, make plans for time spent together during school breaks, and the whole nine.

  Lately, Deuce had begun to wonder how many ‘Lisas’ he had discarded in his own social life. He glanced briefly at Tamara, checking her lipstick in the mirrored wall of the elevator as they rode down, and hoped she wasn’t actually a ‘Lisa.’ Damn, he really was drunk.

  The party was at an off-campus house, where most of the parties for Black students were held. And as usual, he and Kal garnered some nasty looks when they entered with Lisa and Tamara. Why, the stares seemed to ask, would you bother coming to a Black Caucus party if you’re just going to turn around and bring a White girl?

  Lisa was White, but Tamara was not. She just looked like she was.

  Deuce almost laughed. What would happen if he just went up to the deejay, shut off the music and yelled: She’s not White! I swear she’s not! She just likes to hang out with White girls, and Black dudes!

  “You straight, man?” Kal was looking at him with concern, so Deuce realized he’d done it again—drifted off into space, probably staring with a completely vacant and intoxicated expression on his face.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” he said. “Lemme just go grab a beer.”

  Kal put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Nah. Just chill right here a minute.”

  Deuce decided not to argue, and instead surveyed the room. Penn State’s Black population was relatively paltry, so just about every one of the faces was familiar to him, except for some who were probably freshmen. As he scanned, he felt his spirits plummet. He didn’t know why he thought this was a good idea. Two minutes in, and the scene was getting old.

  Next to him, Lisa and Tamara were swaying to the loud music. He watched Lisa for a while, gamely enduring the dirty looks, bopping a little off-beat. She didn’t just like Kal a lot, Deuce decided, she was stone in love with the brother. Why else would she put up with being in a place where ninety percent of the women were looking at her with open hostility, and seventy-five percent of the dudes saw her as an object of either prey, or pity?

  Damn. Kal was a real asshole. And so, he realized now, was he.

  “Oh shit. Do you want to go?”

  Mia clutched Zora’s arm and turned to stand in front of her, as though hoping to block from view what Zora had already seen. Across the room, flanked by two girls—one blonde and tiny; and the other tall and brunette—was Deuce. He was scowling, and not looking like he was particularly enjoying himself, but the girls with him sure were. The brunette danced next to him, occasionally brushing her ass against his leg and lifting her arms in the air, whipping her hair back and forth in a manner that seemed a little desperate and attention-hungry.

  Zora should have felt good about the fact that Deuce didn’t seem to notice her at all, but she didn’t. The girl was brushing her ass against him, after all. Something inside her chest turned white-hot.

  “No, don’t be stupid,” she told Mia. “I’m going to have to see him sometime. In fact, I think I should just get it over with and go say ‘hello.’”

  “Wait. What now? Girl, no. You have a look on your face like you’re about to cut a bitch.”

  Zora laughed, bitterly. “I don’t do shit like that.”

  Mia sighed. “And you don’t generally use words like ‘shit’ either, but here you go, cussing, so … Rashad said he was stopping through, right? I say we just get a drink and wait right here. I’m sure he’ll be …”

  “I’m going right now,” Zora said, ignoring Mia. “I’m just going to go talk to him.”

  With a few wide and purposeful steps, she crossed the room, skirting around the people in her path, eyes fixed on Deuce. She was only a few feet away when he spotted her.

  For a moment, his eyes lit up—as much as they could anyway—but it was clear to Zora, the closer she got, that he was drunk. Not falling-down-and-sloppy drunk, but definitely within three-drink range of that stage.

  When she was almost directly in front of him, Zora saw his throat bob as he swallowed. And then she saw that look on his face. The one she had almost forgotten, though it was very recently that she had last seen it. It was the same look he gave her on New Year’s Eve when she first came out of the guest room at his father’s house, wearing her white dress—a mixture of pride, and raw desire. Seeing that look now, Zora softened toward him for a nanosecond, and almost forgot why she was annoyed until the brunette reminded her, by slinging an arm around Deuce’s neck, pulling him down to say something into his ear.

  He seemed only dimly aware that the girl was there at all, because his eyes were still fixed on Zora, as hers were on him.

  “Hi,” she said when they were standing in front of each other, less than a foot apart. Her tone was defiant.

  The brunette looked at her and then at Deuce, but stood aside as though realizing that something above her pay-grade was about to happen.

  “Hey,” he said, in that unexpectedly deep timbre of his.

  Even with the music and noise around them, Zora could hear him perfectly, as though only his voice alone could penetrate the chaos and enter her consciousness. Just over her shoulder, she sensed Mia hovering.

  “I just thought I’d come over and say ‘hello’,” she said. “Since I haven’t seen you, since …”

  “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “New Year’s Day. I tried to reach you, but …”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore,” Zora said, struggling to sound breezy. “Since you’re clearly … back in the saddle.” She let her eyes drift briefly toward the brunette.

  Deuce’s eyes narrowed a little. “I called, and texted. I even went by your house and your brother told me you left. I’ve been trying to reach you …”

  “You tried for barely a week. And now you’re here, so …”

  “For barely a … Zee, you can’t be …”

  “Serious? Yeah, I kind of am.”

  She knew she was being unfair, but her body had been occupied by a little alien, green monster. She wasn’t in control of what she said or did any longer.

  Now Deuce’s eyes weren’t narrowed. He opened them wider. “You’re unbelievable. Y’know that? You know how …”

  “Hey, Zora. Look, Rashad just got here!”

  Mia’s hand on her arm, firmly, almost painfully diverted her attention from Deuce for a moment and Zora looked at her friend, grateful that she had short-circuited what was sure to be a very messy scene.

  “I have to go,” she said, giving Deuce one last look. “I just wanted to say hi. Enjoy your night.”

  Spinning on her heel, she barreled in the general direction of the front door where Mia was leading her. As far as she could tell, Rashad was nowhere in the vicinity, but she was glad to have been saved from herself.

  “Jesus, what the hell was that?” Mia asked her, when they were standing just outside the front door. “Don’t turn into one of those messy-ass chicks, Zora. For real.”

  It was cold, and people kept brushing by them, entering and exiting the crowded house. Zora rubbed her hands together and shook her head.

  “I know. You were right. I shouldn’t have even gone over there to talk to him. I don’t know what I was … We should just … We should go.”

  “Your coat,” Mia said. “My coat. They’re still inside.”

  “I don’t want to go back in there. Could you …?”

  “Of course. Wait here, okay? Don’t move. Just wait.”

  While Mia went back in, Zora stood on the front porch, stomping her feet and rubbing her hands together. God, that was embarrassing. She would have made a scene. If Mia hadn’t come to the rescue, maybe she would have for-real cut a bitch.

  “How the hell did I let this happen to me?” she asked herself aloud.

  “How the hell did you let what happen to you?”

  Zora spun at the familiar voice and almost threw her arms
around Rashad. Safe, sensible, never-made-her-lose-her-mind Rashad. He was just getting there, his hat pulled down over his ears, and the collar of his jacket turned up.

  “And why you standin’ out here in the cold with no coat?” He looked even more confused, pulling her closer and rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

  “It’s a long …”

  “Zee!”

  “No …” She took two steps backward and out of Rashad’s embrace. “Not now … Deuce, no.”

  Like her, he was without a coat.

  “What d’you mean no?” he demanded. “What was that … inside? What …”

  Rashad stepped between them, blocking Deuce’s path to her, putting both his hands up. “She said no, chief.”

  “Chief?” Deuce gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Who the fuck … man, you better back the hell up.”

  “No,” Rashad said, his voice calm.

  He had about an inch in height on Deuce, but Deuce was much more powerfully-built. Zora felt the coiled tension coming in waves off them both.

  “Rashad,” Zora said to his back, her voice quavering. “It’s fine. We were talking inside, and …”

  “You told him no, so you need to stand your ground, and he needs to leave you the hell alone,” Rashad said.

  “Don’t tell her what she needs to do.” Deuce took a step forward so that now, he and Rashad were squaring off, mere inches apart. “You ain’t got nothin’ to do with this. This is between me and Zora.”

  Just then Mia emerged from the house, wearing her coat, and with Zora’s draped over her arm. She looked wildly from Rashad to Deuce and then at Zora.

  “There is no ‘you and Zora.’ She’s done with you, son,” Rashad said, leaning in, his voice scornful. “Your ass was just fun-and-games … playtime.”

  “Oh, for real?” Deuce said, almost sweetly. “How ‘bout you and me have some playtime, muthafucka?”