by Donald Welch
Keisha said to Freda under her breath, “This bitch is too fucking dramatic. Don’t you just want to slap the hell out of her?” Laughing, Freda and Keisha laid their heads against each other and continued to watch Renee’s performance.
“Yeah, but first, I just wanna go over there and snatch that blond weave out of her head and take those contacts out,” Freda said. “On second thought, you know what would be better than that? When we leave tonight, let’s just take her ass up to the worst part of Camden and just drop her ass off.”
Keisha couldn’t stop laughing but managed to get one last thing out. “Naw, girl, we can’t. Nicky would be one girl short tomorrow at the wedding, and she would never forgive us. So let’s just let the bitch live. It could be worse—she could still be living in Philly instead of New York, and we’d have to tolerate her ass all the time. So let’s thank God for small blessings.”
“Yeah, Keish, but you gotta love her.”
“I do. But I still want to slap the shit out of her sometimes—like right now.”
“Well,” Nicole started, “I’ve seen Mr. Medina. He is rather good-looking, but—”
Sensing what Nicole was about to say, all the women chimed in. “We know: You only have eyes for Alan.” Nicole playfully referred to them as haters.
“Why do all black men think it’s just about getting laid?” Renee said as Denise and Valerie came in from the patio.
Denise answered, “Honey, all men think it’s about getting laid.”
Denise sat down next to Mira, who added, “You got that right, even the ones on the DL.”
The mere mention of men on the DL appeared to sober up Zenora. “You do not want me to go there! Now that’s some shit I do not understand.”
“What’s that, Z?” asked Nicole.
“This whole down-low phase.”
“Ain’t nothing new about men creeping with men. It’s just getting more attention now because motherfuckers are getting caught,” offered Keisha.
“Shit, y’all would be surprised at all the men that do that,” said Mira. “A few of them come by my club, but I can spot one a mile away.” Pointing with one hand to the left and one hand to the right she said, “There go D, and there go L.” Bringing both hands to meet in the middle, she slapped them together and said, “DL.”
“I know that’s right. I didn’t need that queen to write a book glorifying that shit—like he was helping us out. That Negro was trying to make a dollar,” remarked Freda.
“J. L. King or something, right?” Denise asked. “A lot of the women at my law firm were reading it.”
“So what did you think after you read it, Denise?” Valerie asked.
“You cannot possibly believe that I would waste my time reading that trash! Absolutely not. The subject does not interest me.”
Between sips of her wine, Renee said, “Well, it should, Denny—especially if you’re dating.”
“Excuse me, but I know the men I screw, Ms. DeVoe.”
Rising up off the love seat on her way to grab a beer, Mira said, “Yeah, but do you know the men that screw you?”
“Terry McMillan thought she knew that shit, too,” Keisha said. “Did y’all see Oprah? Chile, I knew when I first saw him that he was a switch-hitter. Eyebrows were done up better than mine, and that soft-as-Michael-Jackson voice. I was like, ‘Girl, please, don’t you see what this is?’ And did you see how mad Terry looked when she had to sit next to him in front of all those millions of people? I would’ve been mad, too, if a nigga had on more lip gloss than I did.”
“But you know what?” Freda said. “I really do believe that she loved him. And I’m not gonna say that he didn’t love her, although I really do believe, at the end of the day, it was just about getting that green card.”
“Well, he would have got a green card and an ass-whooping, ’cuz Ms. Keisha don’t play that shit. I don’t have anything against gay men. Some of my best girlfriends are gay men, and I’m not gon’ say that I know for sure that every man I’ve been with is straight-up heterosexual, but if I find out that him and I are liking the same thing, I’m puttin’ my foot up his ass and then I’m gone.”
“Which leads me to say something here, ladies,” Keisha said. “I never understood how a woman can let a man that she meets run up in her without a trench coat on in 2008. Because I’ma tell you how I handle that shit. When I meet me somebody, I don’t care how fine he looks, before he puts his wallet in my pocketbook, I’ma see what that shit’s made of. In other words, the light is gonna be on, and I’m gon’ have to handle that—examining, lifting, twisting, turning, and flipping. I did not live to be thirty years old by being a fool.”
Denise stood up and made her way over to the bar. “Okay, I’ve heard enough. I need another drink. We are supposed to be here to party, not have an Oprah start-up support group.”
“Exactly. Nicky, by any chance do you have Eric Benet’s last CD?” Zenora made her way over to the walnut-finished CD case, which housed over three hundred CDs, ranging from Bach to T.I. Even though the CDs were alphabetically organized, Zenora was too tipsy to find the CD she was looking for.
Nicole went over to assist her friend and found the album right away.
The mere mention of Eric Benet’s name, however, sent Freda into a tizzy. “Hell naw! His shit is too mellow and depressing. I don’t feel like that right now. Put on some Nelly or Usher. Besides, I don’t wanna hear some nigga crying about how he fucked up on fourteen songs!”
Nicole rolled her eyes and took back the CD from Zenora and found another. Soon a slow, sexy ballad by Usher filled the room, and each woman started to sway and groove to the music. A few of them sang along.
Denise, sitting in one of the chairs at the dining room table, took a quick glance around the room, and it hit her that Tisha was not there. “Hey, where’s Tisha?”
“Oh, that’s right, you girls weren’t here,” Nicole answered. “She called earlier. Valerie got the call, and Tisha told her that because of her migraines, she probably wouldn’t make it tonight.”
“Tisha’s not coming? That’s a bummer,” Renee said.
Zenora stood up and started to pace. She appeared to be struggling with something and asked, “Can I say something?”
Everyone’s attention went to Zenora. Freda was the first to speak. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Ah, never mind. I’m probably just tripping. It’s nothing,” Zenora said, feeling put on the spot. Maybe it’s best to leave it alone, she thought.
“Say what’s on your mind, Z,” Nicole said. “We’re all family here.”
Usher continued to sing in the background as everyone sat and waited for Zenora to speak. She went over to the sound system, turned off the music, and with her back to the other girls, she pondered how to begin.
Speaking hesitantly, she said, “The other day Tisha came by the shop to get her hair done, and I noticed some marks around her neck.” Zenora started pacing and eventually made her way to the bar for another drink. No one else said anything as they hung on to her every word. “I have to be honest—I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t. When I asked her about it, she started crying.”
Mira said through clenched teeth, “If that bastard hit Tisha, I will personally cut his ass!”
Zenora continued, “I pleaded with her. I said, ‘Tisha, did Roland do this to you?’ She snapped at me saying, ‘No, he didn’t, and I would appreciate it if you would just leave it alone. And don’t say anything to the other girls, because it’s not what you think.’”
Feeling even more guilty than before, Zenora said, “She made me swear that I would keep my suspicions to myself. I told her if she needed a place for herself and Kimmy to go, they could stay with me. That seemed to make her angrier. She jumped up, wrote me a check, and stormed out. Her hair wasn’t even done yet. She just ignored me. I was hoping to see her tonight to tell her I was sorry and that maybe I did jump the gun. Maybe my accusations were incorrect.”
Denise immediately g
ot up and went to get her purse. “I would say your accusations were right on target, Zenora. We all know that he has hit her before, so let’s not pretend to deny that. Listen, you guys start eating. I’ll be back.”
Realizing what she may have started, Zenora attempted to prevent Denise from leaving. “I know where you’re going. Please don’t do it. I gave her my word.”
Mira became furious with Zenora. “Bitch, are you crazy? This is serious. The reason why Tisha isn’t here tonight is because he probably hit her again. Come on, Denise, let’s go!” Mira searched through her purse, frantically trying to locate something, which irritated Denise.
“You won’t need your keys, Mira. I’ll drive,” Denise said impatiently.
“Keys? I know where the hell my keys are. I’m making sure I got my shit with me.” She flashed a switchblade and headed toward the door.
“Maybe before you two go over there, I should call and check on Tisha first,” Nicole said, not wanting any trouble for anyone. Renee, Keisha, Valerie, and Freda agreed it would be the best thing to do. However, nothing seemed to convince Denise or Mira, who’d already decided they were leaving.
“Call, my ass. Come on, Denise,” Mira said.
As they reached the door, Nicole’s buzzer rang. She quickly went to see who it was. “It’s Tisha,” she said, surprised and relieved as she buzzed her friend in.
While everyone waited for Tisha to take the elevator up to her nineteenth-floor condo, Nicole pleaded, “Okay, guys, do not jump to any conclusions.” Mira rolled her eyes, and Denise folded her arms. “Just allow Tisha to offer any information, good or bad, herself.”
Everyone agreed, and Mira reluctantly returned her knife to her purse. The women tried to sit around the room and act as if everything were normal and waited for Tisha to come in.
TISHA TOOK OUT her compact on the elevator to double-check her appearance in the mirror. It was obvious by the redness of her eyes that she’d been crying. She adjusted the orange-and-gold scarf around her neck, tucking the ends of it into her crisp white button-down blouse and made sure that her neck was not visible. Chic designer jeans graced her slim frame and her three-and-a-quarter-inch gold strappy Jimmy Choo stilettos accented with a gold clutch bag complemented her outfit. She looked better than she felt. Going to the party was a last-minute decision, so she’d forgotten to bring Nicole’s gift. As the elevator doors opened, she took a deep breath and put her game face on, rehearsing her story. When she turned the corner, Nicole was already in the hallway waiting for her, ready to greet Tisha alone. The sight of Nicole in the hall caught Tisha off guard.
“Hey, Tish.”
“What’s up, Nicky? What are you doing in the hall?”
“Oh, nothing. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
Nicole stared at Tish for a moment, wanting to probe further. Opting instead to hug her, Nicole said, “I’m so glad you’re here. The girls are going to be so happy to see you.” When they entered the apartment, all eyes immediately turned to Tisha who became uneasy at the way her friends were looking at her.
“Isn’t there a party going on here tonight? No music, no laughter?” Tisha asked.
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Renee spoke first and went over to give Tisha a hug. “Hey, Tish. You feeling better?”
“Oh yeah, girl, just one of my migraines. But I took my medicine and laid down for a while. I’m sure Valerie told you guys that I wasn’t coming. But after waking up, I felt better, and the thought of not being here with my girls on such an important night for our girl Nicole wasn’t even an option.”
Mira seemed unconvinced as she asked from across the room, “Where are Roland and Kimmy?”
“Roland worked late tonight. I left him a note reminding him of Nicky’s party,” Tisha said nonchalantly. “And I dropped Kimmy off at my grandma’s.”
More silence.
Judging by the looks on everyone’s faces, Tisha could tell that no one believed her. “Why are all of you looking at me like that?”
After searching the room, she fixed on Zenora, and their eyes met. Tisha asked, “Zenora, did you—?”
However, before she finished her question, Denise jumped in. “Did she what?”
Tisha tried to play it off. “Did Zenora tell you I got mad at her the other day at the shop and flipped out?” Before anyone had a chance to answer, she continued, “Girl, I’m sorry. It was all a misunderstanding.” Tisha hugged Zenora and then threw a dirty look visible only to Zenora. Turning back to the other girls, she asked, “Hey, can we get some music up in here to liven up this place? Y’all standing around looking like you on The Golden Girls. Let me go over here and see what kind of music you got in this case, Ms. Nicky. I need to find something to get us in the party mood.”
She selected an up-tempo old-school song that was a favorite of the crew when they would go out to party. Once the song began, Tisha started dancing and coaxing the other girls to join in the fun. Their dance moves consisted of all the dances they did in high school and college. Keisha did the cabbage patch; Freda, the running man; Denise, the snake; and Renee, the prep. They made a Soul Train line.
After having the same song on repeat several times, they began to wind down, and Tisha made her way over to the bar to get a drink. It was clear that she was still pissed at Zenora. Noticing that Tisha had quietly slipped away from the party activity, Zenora decided to join her at the bar to offer her apologies.
On the other side of the room, Nicole started to describe her wedding dress and showed them a picture of the dress in a Modern Bride magazine. Their reactions indicated that they approved of her choice. She then invited the women into her bedroom to show them the actual dress. They all headed in, and Valerie called out to Zenora and Tisha. “Hey, guys, come see Nicky’s dress.” The two glanced over, nodded, and gestured that they would—but first they had to clear the air.
“I know you told them what you thought you saw!”
“Tisha, I—” Zenora started to say.
“Shut up! The only reason that I did not go off a few minutes ago is because I would not do anything to spoil Nicky’s night. You just couldn’t leave it alone, could you, Z? Is it so hard for you to mind your own business?” Tisha made herself a cocktail. She noticed that there was no ice, but decided to drink it anyway. “What goes on in my house is my business. Roland did not hit me.”
“Tisha, I’m sorry—”
“You should be!”
“But when I saw those marks on your neck, I assumed—”
Before Zenora could complete her sentence, Tisha threw the remainder of her drink at her. “Well, you assumed wrong! If you must know, the marks on my neck were from a little rough lovemaking between me and my man. I’m sure you can understand what a little rough fucking can result in, especially with all the various sexual partners that you’ve had. I’m sure at least one of them got a little rough.”
Grabbing a towel off the bar, Zenora calmly wiped herself off and addressed Tisha. “I’m going to attribute what you just did to all that you are obviously going through and not knock you the hell out. I understand that I was wrong in mentioning anything to the girls, but it was clearly out of love and concern that I did say anything.”
“Well, I don’t need that kind of love, Zenora. So I’d appreciate you staying out of my personal affairs.”
“You will never have to worry about that again. I apologize that I didn’t warn you that I was going to say something to the other girls, but I’m not sorry that I did it.”
With her back to Zenora, Tisha’s eyes welled up, and although she wanted to reach out and say more, fear got the best of her.
Mira came back into the living room to retrieve her camera and sensed something was wrong between Tisha and Zenora. After approaching them, she noticed that the top of Zenora’s blouse was all wet.
“Aren’t you guys gonna come back and see Nicky’s dress?” Mira asked. Neither
one of them responded.
“How did you get all wet?” Mira asked Zenora.
“That was my fault,” Tisha said. “Z startled me when she came over to get a drink, and I just threw it on her. It was a mistake. Right, Z?”
Zenora just glared at Tisha for a moment, turned toward Mira, and excused herself. She’d decided to go to the patio to cool down.
“What’s going on, Tisha?” Mira demanded.
“Nothing. Nothing is going on.” Tisha turned toward Mira. “Why does anything have to be going on?”
Grabbing Tisha by both arms, Mira continued, “Be quiet and listen to me. I know what’s been going on at your house. We all know that Roland has been hitting on you. Now if you want to throw a drink on me or get mad at me, then go ahead, but I am not going to stand around and allow that motherfucker to hit you and get away with it. Any man that hits on a woman is a punk. I know that Kimmy is only six months old and may not have a clue about what’s going on, but what are you going to say when he starts hitting on her, huh?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about! Now I don’t know what Z told you guys, but I’m going to tell you what I told her. Mind your own damn business. You need to concern yourself with yours and Jeanette’s affairs, and not mine.”
Raising her voice, Mira pointed at Tisha. “No, I need you to wake the fuck up, Tish!” Their voices began to escalate loud enough to draw the others into the living room. The women raced back to see what was happening.
Nicole was the first to speak. “Hey, hey, what’s going on in here? Mira? Tish? What’s the matter?”
Mira said, “Nothing. Everything is cool. So, Nicky, let’s open those gifts.” She glanced back disgustedly at Tisha before walking over to the group.
