A Clean Up Man

by M. T. Pope

  “Yeah. Whatever. We both know that’s not even going to happen.”

  “Why you say that?” I acted like I was offended.

  “You know why.” He sounded like a little kid. I always loved tormenting him with the gay stuff.

  “Say it with me, Carlos.” I sat up in the tub a little.

  “Kraig . . . does not do . . . any . . . deep sea diving.” We said it together and then burst into laughter.

  “I’m not a fish lover or a sushi eater.” I finished off my mantra.

  “All right, man, I get the point.” I could tell Carlos was getting grossed out. “Man, just get your ass over here on time.” He hung up the phone in my ear. I laughed to myself.

  As I soaked, I thought about that deep sea diving comment and I realized that it was a little unfounded. I was a sheltered child; my mom made me afraid of sex. She would show me pictures of men and women and the different STDs in medical magazines and things of that nature from when I was in middle school all the way to the beginning of high school. She said she did it so no one else could poison my brain with lies. Almost my whole four years in high school were focused totally on academics. Sure, I thought about the act of sex and my friends would talk about it in great detail at the lunch table. The boys and the girls; neither had shame. From what they were saying it was like the Fourth of July and Christmas all wrapped up in one. But my focus was always focused on school. Don’t get it twisted; I did experiment on myself, if you know what I mean. I figured that I wouldn’t get anything from myself since it was only me.

  When we were in high school, Carlos would go into great detail about his first time and beyond, but I dared not tell him that I was not experienced at all. I was a momma’s boy for sure. The “Jarrod experience” in college catapulted me into sexual regions that I couldn’t even fathom. I felt like he robbed me of my choice to choose who or what I would date. Look at me now; I was shamelessly knocking off married men.

  “Ughhhhh!” Those thoughts caused me to groan in distress. I didn’t know if I had my mother to blame or Jarrod, or if I was pushing all of my ill-fated choices on to others. I wasn’t sure of who to blame.

  I got out of the tub and sauntered around my bedroom, picking out my attire for the evening. I knew it would be a laid-back environment so I threw on some Old Navy cargo pants and an ocean-blue striped polo. My cornrows were still fresh. I just oiled them up and sprayed on one of my favorite colognes called Sun. I exited my home and proceeded back over to the Edmonson Village neighborhood. Carlos’s mom lived a couple of blocks away from my moms.

  When I pulled up to Carlos’s mom’s house, I did a quick check in the mirror and exited my truck. Most people thought that it looked tacky driving my work truck around all the time, but I had my logo on my truck; that ensured more business. Besides, my truck didn’t look like that truck on the television show Sanford and Son. My truck was immaculate and well kept at all times.

  I walked up Carlos’s mom’s well-manicured front walkway—of course, done by yours truly—and up the porch steps, and knocked on the door. A few seconds later, I was greeted by Carlos, who had a silly smile on his face. We shook hands and hugged like it was our first time. It was one of those “we boys” hugs, too. I laughed on the inside. He swore he’s a playa.

  He pulled back and let me walk into the house. His moms was a shonuff burner in the kitchen. I spent many a night eating over here because of the variety of different foods she cooked up. I loved my momma’s food just like the next man, but Ms. Lopez was on the money. Albondigón, which is their version of meatloaf, was one of my favorites. Another was empanadas, which is their version of smothered beef. Throw that on some yellow rice and it was on. Man, I could already taste the food in my mouth as I walked into the living room. Everybody was sitting back, waiting for the food to be served. Everybody only consisted of me, Carlos, and the chick he was about to introduce me to.

  “Yo, Kraig, this is Nicole.” He looked at me, then at Nicole. “Nicole, this is my homie, Kraig.”

  “Nice to meet you, Nicole.” I reached out to shake her hand. She did the same. Her hands were well manicured and I noticed a couple of fashion rings on her fingers. She was pretty, I had to say. She had long hair that looked to be all hers. And she had on a black tight knee-length one-piece dress that showed every curve that her momma gave her. She had on a little makeup, but not overly so. She was well put together.

  “It’s nice to meet you too, Kraig.”

  Oh, and she speaks well too. This was a new thing for Carlos. Maybe she is the one. But . . . it all could be a ploy to lure him in and get what she wants and dip out, or maybe get pregnant and get an eighteen-year free ride. These hoes are scandalous these days. They dress the part and then crush your heart. I had to be on the lookout for any flaws that Carlos’s love-struck ass didn’t catch.

  A few seconds later, we were sitting back and chitchatting. I smiled as the two lovebirds were touchy-feely all over the loveseat. I took a look around Ms. Lopez’s house while we all waited to eat.

  Ms. Lopez’s house was filled with trinkets and Puerto Rican figurines; she had Puerto Rican flags on the walls and all. Somebody should have told her that she was in America and she was in the hood, but I didn’t say anything. Carlos would always say that she was always making sure he didn’t forget his heritage. I couldn’t blame her, I’m just glad she didn’t have that mess hanging outside of the house. Black folk was infamous for making fun of others for being different. In fact, that was how Carlos and I got close in friendship. I was like his pass in the hood. Wherever I went he went. I got some grief about it from time to time, but eventually it died down.

  “Cena! Cenaaaaa!” Carlos’s mom yelled from the dining room. It was so good to know the word “dinner” in two languages. I hopped my butt up with quickness and headed toward the food. I was hungry. The sex I just had earlier with Mr. Handicapped popped into my head as I sat down in front of the wonderful spread of food. Sex always gave me an appetite. I just may be paying him another visit. Speaking of sex, the two lovebirds were sneaking feels and kisses as they sat down next to each other at the table. It was a bit disturbing, but what could I really say? I just did a handicapped man while in the presence of a sleeping one-year-old.

  Ms. Lopez went back into the kitchen once more before coming over to me and kissing me on the cheek.

  “Hey, son from ’nother mother.” Her English and slang were still lacking after all of these years. She tried learning it and Carlos tried to teach it to her. But it was like the blind leading the blind.

  “Hola, Momma.” I smiled real hard. It took her a long time to get used to me and Carlos being friends. She thought that I was going to get Carlos in trouble in the neighborhood. She watched too much television that only depicted black men and boys as trouble. Then when she found out I was gay, Carlos said she nearly passed out. He said she slumped over and moaned, “No, not my baby, I want to be a grandmother; that’s all I ask, Lord” in Spanish. It took him several minutes to get her to realize that Carlos wasn’t gay and he was just my friend and not my lover. I assumed she thought I was going to turn her son out or something like that. That was why I was hesitant about telling anyone. I showed her different and over the years she had grown to be my other mother.

  “Ummmmm, Momma.” I stuffed my mouth with some black beans, rice, and shredded goat meat. “Mucho ummm.” It was very good indeed.

  Ms. Lopez sat next to me and we ate and watched Carlos and Nicole feed each other food.

  “Is it that good?” I asked Carlos. His mom probably thought I was talking about the food, but Carlos knew what I was saying and maybe even Nicole. I was talking about P-u-s-s-y.

  “The best in America,” Nicole said as she winked at me, smiled, and crossed and uncrossed her legs like Sharon Stone did in the movie Basic Instinct. Carlos just smiled. She took a spoonful of rice and fed it to him. A few pieces of rice fell off of the spoon and into his lap as she fed him.

  “Oooo, I made a mes
s.” She smiled devilishly. “Let me get that for you, baby.” She leaned over and put her head damn near in his lap. Carlos’s eyes lit up like Christmas tree lights. She was down there longer than she should have been for a few specks of rice. When she did come up she had a dirty smile on her face.

  “Waste not, want not.” She reached over and licked a small speck of food from Carlos’s face. The way she did it was with a flicker of her tongue. Her ass almost gave me a hard-on and that was hard to do when it came to females.

  This bitch is fishing in the wrong pond and don’t even know it. I know she is not flirting with me.

  “You know they are outsourcing everything in America now. Even that!” I countered.

  “Not this.” She smirked. “This is like high-price escargot.”

  “No, no, honey, this here is goat meat.” Ms. Lopez held up her dish of food. “Me not do no escort,” Ms. Lopez interjected. “She escort?” She looked at Carlos, confused.

  “Momma, that’s not what she meant,” Carlos tried to explain. “She was talking about . . .” He shook his head in defeat. “Oh, never mind.” He then looked at me and mugged me. I mugged him and her and for the rest of the night we ate in silence.

  Carlos and Nicole had calmed down heavily. I could tell that Carlos was in deep thought. I just hoped he didn’t give me grief about exposing the “ho within” in Nicole. He had to know that I had his best interests at heart. Or maybe I was trying to sabotage another one of his relationships. I mentally slapped myself in the head for interfering in Carlos’s life. I just couldn’t let him get scammed by another chick. Most of the time even though he said he had the situation under control or he thought he did, he would end up getting his feelings hurt. And I’m not talking about black chicks; I’m talking about most of the chicks he dated. He was a sucker for love. Even though he did protect himself sexually and financially, his heart was always given away freely and easily.

  I was really the only one, besides his mom, who really got the full Carlos: mind, body, and soul. We had shared some really deep conversations and we shared almost everything.

  After dinner, we all sat in the living room again. Ms. Lopez served us some spice cake.

  “Well, Los.” That was my nickname for him. I only called him that when I knew he was mad or disappointed in me and I wanted to apologize in our special way. “I need to be heading on home.”

  “Okay.” He got up from off of the sofa, leaving Nicole still sitting and pouting.

  “Bye, bye, guapo.” Ms. Lopez kissed me on the cheek and swatted me on my butt. She was so playful and I loved when she called me handsome.

  “Bye, bye, Momma.” I kissed her back.

  Carlos walked me to the truck. His hands were in his pockets and he looked disappointed.

  “I’m sorry, Los.” I looked down at the ground and then back up to his face. “You know I’m only looking out for you.”

  “I know.” He spoke brokenhearted. “I just wish . . .” He paused. A tear slid down his face. I didn’t like to see him this way. It broke my heart. He was so vulnerable at times.

  “That special girl will come along, just be patient.” I cut him off and reassured him. I reached out and gave him a quick hug.

  “I hope so.” He turned around and walked toward his house. I walked around my truck and got in.

  I pulled off and honked my horn once. I saw him wave in my rearview mirror as I drove down the street.

  It was only ten o’clock at night, so I decided to swing by my mother’s house and wish her a good night. I did that and fifteen minutes later I was on my way home. I had no idea what tomorrow would hold, I was just hoping to make it through the day with everything intact.

  When I got back in the house I was exhausted. I just stripped down in the middle of my bedroom and crawled into bed.

  Chapter 7

  Complications

  I rolled around in the bed for a few minutes deciding what I was going to do today. I had a couple of books on my nightstand that were waiting to be read. Carlos was at work and I was all by my lonesome until he got off. Another good thing about being your own boss is that you can be off when everybody else is working. It’s also a negative because everybody is at work and you got to do stuff on your own, a real bummer for me. Momma always said that idle time is the devil’s playground. So I decided to get my butt out of the house.

  Turned out, at home was where I should have stayed all along.

  I really didn’t have a place to go, but I ended up at Home Depot at Reisterstown Plaza. It was always a comfort to be around tools and such. I walked up and down the aisles just doing the browse thing. I had every tool I needed, but you never knew what new tool came up: new routers, saws, and saw bits . . . I was always on the prowl. I just picked up a brick pattern for the walkway to my house. I used them as outlines for my walkway. It added an extra accent that others houses didn’t have to show. I liked to show off.

  I walked toward the registers, satisfied with my picks and ready to get something to grub on. I went into the first lane available and made a speedy checkout. I walked up to the community board and spied my flyer that I posted every so often. It had ten detachable numbers where people could detach them and get in contact with me if they needed home improvement. I smiled as I noticed that nine of the ten were gone. As I stood there, a woman came up and grabbed the last one.

  “Yes.” She smiled like she had won the lottery. “I am desperately in need of someone to replace my cabinets in my house.”

  I just smiled politely and nodded my head.

  “I’m sorry, did I root you?” she was a fairly plain-looking white woman.

  “No, ma’am. I was just looking.”

  “Oh . . . okay.” She looked pleased.

  “That’s a good choice you got there in your hand.” I smiled, knowing that she was possibly another paycheck.

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” I walked a little closer than I should have. “He does excellent work.”

  “Shit, I hope so.” I looked at her, shocked by her language. She looked like she was getting angry. “Anybody besides my lazy-ass husband would probably be good. I don’t know why I married his dumb ass. He don’t know how to do anything right. I knew something was up when his ass quit his job right after we got married. He talks about how work was too stressful and he was on the verge of having a breakdown.”

  I looked at her in awe. Here she was divulging all of her business to a person she didn’t even know. Why did I always run into these types of people? I didn’t want to know any of this. She didn’t know that she was giving me bait. Feeding my interest. Feeding the monkey on my back. She was practically putting her husband’s dick in my mouth.

  “All he wants to do is sit home and lift weights and read books while my ass goes to work every day. I am tired of his shit. Here I am making all this money and I can’t even marry a man who wants to work. Do you have a job?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I answered. I was being watched by some of the associates in the store as they looked on at this woman spilling her guts.

  “Do you have a wife?” she asked as she looked me up and down like she was interested.

  “No, ma’am. I don’t.” I backed up a little, unnoticeably though.

  “Well, when you get one treat her right. Don’t quit your job when y’all get married because she got a job that can support both of you.”

  “I promise.” She didn’t know that what she was saying was so far from my mind and sight that it was unbelievable and inconceivable to me.

  “Good.” She nodded her head. “Let me get my ass out of here and home to Mr. No-good.”

  I shook my head as she walked away. I went outside and watched her pull off. I mentally noted the truck she had and made sure I was to remind myself to ask her where she got my number and what type of truck she drove. I knew it would seem odd to her, but I was not going anywhere near her or her husband. I hoped. He sounded like the type I would fuck or who would try to fuck me.
If you haven’t noticed by now, I had a thing for married men. I didn’t want anyone who wasn’t already attached to someone. I always wondered why I like married men rather than unattached men. Maybe it’s because married men who cheat on their wives mostly have no intentions of leaving, no matter how bad it is at home. They will do what they do and go home, or, in my case, walk me to the door. They thought that I was the loser in the situation, but in fact I was the winner. I got to get what I wanted and I got to leave with no emotional attachment or commitment, and a paycheck. It all stemmed from my experience in college. Jarrod didn’t want a commitment so he did me and moved on. For weeks he left me feeling confused and dumb. I felt like I was a Hefty bag left on the sidewalk to get picked up by a dirty, strange man collecting trash all over.

  I was not sure if it was planned that he would do me, turn me out, and then leave me hanging, but that was what happened and I was repeating the cycle, probably his cycle, effortlessly. Yes, I had a conscience while doing, but that didn’t stop me from doing it. Like with most things that people do that are considered wrong, they do it with a conscience. We all have them, but don’t always use them. I never said that anything I did was right. It was something that fed my adrenaline rushes and my sexual drive. Everyone has their own demons or monkeys, as people call them. I chose to feed mine with married men. You do you and let me do me. Every man I did or who did me was a case of supply and demand. It was just hidden behind my smile.

  I walked over to my truck and put my purchases in the back of my truck and pulled off. I decided to take a trip over to my mom’s house. I was in need of a good hot meal. I was hoping Angie was at work or at least out of the house until I was gone. She would always manhandle me verbally, like she was trying to be the man of the house. I didn’t hate her; I just wanted as little contact with her as possible. To this day I thought that my mother was dating her because she didn’t want to be alone. I’d heard that a lot of women who are scorned from bad or defunct relationships with men turn to the same sex because they feel they already know what another woman wants and likes.