Rich followed Kennedy’s eyes to where Miranda stood and immediately put on his nice-guy routine and got back in his car. This was the same routine that he used to get Miranda, Kennedy suspected. She couldn’t believe that her friend couldn’t see through him and she suddenly pitied her. Too bad her friend loved too hard. Too bad Miranda loved so hard that she couldn’t see the obvious. As Kennedy waved at Miranda, Rich revved his engine and honked at her.
“Go ahead and tell her if you want. Who do you think she’s going to believe—a man who puts it on her at night for hours at a time and just bought her a $130,000 car, or you? If you don’t believe me, test it. You know I’m right,” Rich said and pulled off.
Damn, Rich was right. He knew Miranda better than she thought he did. Once Miranda was in love, that was it. She also knew from experience that Miranda was in it for the long haul. Miranda’s ex tried to hit on one of their very good friends once and when she told Miranda, Miranda dropped her like she was hot. End of story. And no one had heard from the friend since. At the time Miranda was closer to her than to Kennedy, so Kennedy knew better than to tell. She didn’t want to lose her friend.
“Hey, Ken,” Miranda said. “Girl, do you like it?” Miranda squealed about her new car.
“Yeah, it’s tight. Real tight. Rich was just bragging about it. Showing off a little bit, showing what kind of man he is,” Kennedy said, trying to imply something that would pique Miranda’s curiosity.
“What do you mean, what kind of man he is?” Miranda asked, crossing her arms in defense.
“Nothing really. Just that he’s the man for the hookups, that’s all. He said that there are some nice guys left, meaning him. Meaning him getting the car for you,” Kennedy said and left it at that so her friend wouldn’t think she was being jealous instead of cautioning her.
After Kennedy sat in the pedicure chair listening to Miranda carry on about how great Rich was, she drifted into her own thoughts. Michael had told her he’d be going away to a leadership seminar in China in July. Why did he have to go all the way to China to learn how to have better leadership and control of his company? She assumed it was another method of ergonomics that was more successful in China than in America. She made a mental note to research it. She planned on being one of the best business advisers New York had to offer, and had to stay on top of things.
She also knew that she had to stay on top of Michael. He was a hard one to keep up with. Her hectic schedule was nothing compared to his. He updated her weekly on his next six days, and as of late he was getting busier by the minute. But she could always catch him by cell phone, although she rarely did that. As a matter of routine, she only called him when he paged or asked her to. Other times she just paged him. She felt uneasy about the possibility of interrupting him on his phone because he always had some sort of meeting or another. Simone had told her in so many words.
“Kennedy, where are you?” Miranda asked.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just thinking about Michael. He’s going away on business in a couple of months.”
“So why don’t just you go with him? You’ve got the summer off, so go. I would. Besides, you need it. One more semester and your master’s will be completed. Hell, you earned it. Where’s he going anyway?” Miranda asked as she jumped down from the pedicure chair and walked over to the nail polish stand. She returned with two different polishes and held them up to Kennedy, who took the red one.
The salon was getting crowded. Ever since Miranda had expanded and included a nail section, it was hard to get an appointment. Nosy and nosier women were everywhere.
Kennedy lowered her voice when Miranda hopped back in her chair. “China. And no, I can’t go. I don’t want to be that far from Kharri. Although . . . she’ll be with Jared for the summer. He’s picking her up next month when school gets out. But China is too far away and I wouldn’t enjoy myself because I’d be worrying about her. It’s bad enough that she’s gone for the summer and almost every weekend. I feel incomplete when she’s not around. When you have your own, trust me, you’ll understand. Besides I was thinking about going out there to surprise her and take her to Six Flags or somewhere like that.” Kennedy bit her lip. She hated sharing her daughter, even with Jared.
A woman bumped into Kennedy’s freshly painted toes and smudged one. Kennedy sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. The Asian pedicurist Miranda had hired put some remover on her finger and smoothed out the smudge.
“Girl, I don’t blame you. Stay home in the good ol’ U.S. of A with Kharri, and you and she can have your own little vacation. Anyway, as I was saying. Wait a minute, did you hear anything that I was saying?”
“Repeat it. Sorry,” Kennedy said, listening intently.
Miranda threw her hands up and blew loudly. “I said that my period is late. Girrrl, I think that I might be having a baby,” Miranda squealed.
“A baby! A baby by whom?” Kennedy couldn’t contain her disappointment and stopped herself from saying, “not by that ignorant-ass fool Rich.”
“Rich. Who else?” Miranda replied, crinkling her eyebrows.
“Are you keeping it?”
“If I am? Hell yeah, I’m keeping it. Why not?”
“So you really think that you are? Well, we can stop and get an EPT or one of those other home tests when we leave here.”
“No. I don’t trust those tests. I called the doctor this morning to make an appointment. They said that I can come in tomorrow morning. I’ll let you know my test results when I get them.”
* * *
Kennedy left the salon in total disbelief. Miranda couldn’t possibly be pregnant. Now she definitely couldn’t tell Miranda how conniving Rich was. It was too late. She should’ve told her a long time ago. But shoulda, coulda, woulda.
Oh hell, go get some cheesecake from Junior’s. The cheesecake would help to soothe her and she wouldn’t be able to think of anything else.
Just as Kennedy was on the FDR headed toward the Brooklyn Bridge, her cell phone rang. Oh, don’t let it be Derrick. She was supposed to meet up with him later on but couldn’t. She planned to leave a message on his voice mail, an easy way for her to cancel. But during her conversation with Miranda she had forgotten.
“Hello.”
“Kennedy, is that you, baby?” her grandmother sang into the phone in her sweet voice.
“Hey, Gram. Yeah, it’s me. How are you? Is everything all right down there? I miss you so much. I sent you a birthday present. Did you get it?”
“Girl, slow down. Why y’all talk so fast up there? All I heard was It’s me and Did you get it,” her grandmother said.
“Sorry, Gram. I said that I missed you and I wanted to know if you received your birthday present from me and Kharri?” Kennedy replied slowly.
“Oh yeah, baby, it was really nice. But you know that you don’t need to be spending that much money on me. I woulda done fine with a card, but I loved my new dress and hat for church. Thankya. Anyway, Ken-Ken, I was just calling to let y’all know that I got my airline ticket in the mail today, thankya. And I just want to see if one of y’all could pick me up from the airport. I thought I’d better call y’all now, since y’all like to run in the streets so much. I’ma be staying at y’all’s house, did Simone tell you?”
“Gram, no Simone didn’t tell me, but she didn’t have to. You know you’re always welcome to stay with us. When are you coming?”
“Thanksgiving.”
“Thanksgiving? Gram, you didn’t have to call so early. It’s only May. She probably wanted to surprise me. You know I’ll be there. What time are you arriving? Oh Gram, you’re going to miss Kharri. She’s going to Jared’s for Thanksgiving, she’s going to be so sad she missed you—”
“Ken-Ken, didn’t I tell you to slow down?”
* * *
Later that night after Kennedy got home she left a message on Michael’s machine. He was going to be a little irritated because she had stood him up earlier, so she made sure that she left the sweetest
I’m so sorry message that she could manage. After she took a bath and ate, she sat down at her desk and wrote Kharri. She had started a journal for Kharri when she was just a baby and made a habit of writing in it. She planned to give it to her when she was old enough to move out. She considered it to be a “remember Mommy’s advice” sort of journal, which Kharri could take with her through life.
Finishing, she gently closed the journal and wrapped it back up in the velvet cloth. She then sat on her chaise longue in front of the bay window and thought about Kharri, Jared, and Michael while staring out at the people crossing the street and the double-parked cars. At night her block was quiet, but during the day, New York was never quiet. Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.
The sound of the telephone ringing startled her. She looked over at the clock across the room on her nightstand. Five A.M. She couldn’t believe someone was calling her this early. Her heart started to race. Had to be an emergency. With Kharri away at Jared’s, Kennedy started to panic.
“Yes,” she yanked the phone, causing the base to fall to the floor.
“Kennedy, did I wake you?” Miranda asked.
“Girl, is everything all right? What happened? You scared me. I just knew it had to be something with Kharri,” Kennedy said after exhaling loudly. She held her chest and mouthed “Thank you God.” Glad that the call wasn’t concerning her daughter but still worried. Miranda never called so early.
“No, nothing happened. I just couldn’t wait until tomorrow to go to the doctor so I came here to the emergency room to have a pregnancy test. Of course I had to lie and pretend that I was throwing up just so they would see me,” Miranda said.
“So, are you pregnant?” Kennedy asked, bracing herself.
“I don’t know yet—my blood results haven’t come back from the lab. I thought that they were going to just have me piss in a cup and send me home. I’m sorry to wake you up, but I’m so nervous.”
“I know you aren’t there by yourself at five in the morning. Where’s Rich?”
“He wasn’t home when I left. Look, Kennedy, I gotta go, they’re calling my name.” Miranda clicked off.
~ 5 ~
As Kennedy waited for Michael by the front door she checked and double-checked herself in the mirror. She always liked to make sure that she was on deck as far as appearance. She especially wanted to look good for Michael. He overwhelmed her to say the least. He always looked damn good, smelled damn good, and made her feel damn good. No one her age made her feel the way that he did. He didn’t seem much older, but eight years was normally a stretch. But boy, was he classy, sophisticated, and distinguished by all means. From day one she could tell that he was an experienced man, as she had always heard about older men. He dressed in nothing but the finest, as did she, and she liked that. He was much more pleasing, and much sexier than what she was use to. All that her ex-man, Jared, had worn was the usual jeans and sneakers or boots with some shirt that had the designer’s name all over it. She had learned a long time ago that often less is more. And although Michael didn’t seem to have anything “less” about him, he was more than enough for her. Hopefully not too much.
As usual Michael was on time and as soon as she had stepped into the limo all else faded. She looked into his chocolate brown eyes and leaned over and kissed him. He had wonderful, perfectly full lips. Soft, succulent ones, not like an ordinary man. Michael was well kept to the point that he was almost over-kept, like those high-society women who had nothing else to do but go to spas and shop for clothes that they would probably never wear. With him, Kennedy was bold, she was herself. He brought out the side of her that she usually kept hidden. A very sexual being, she wasn’t afraid to let him know. Hell, this was what older men craved, so why hide it?
“Michael, I am so glad that you decided I should spend the weekend with you again. I really enjoyed myself the last time. I think I, or rather, we need this—” Kennedy began.
Michael sat up and loosened his tie, grabbed Kennedy, and gently put her head against his chest. “Kennedy, I wouldn’t have it any other way. But tell me one thing—why do you feel that we need this? I’m not saying that we don’t but I would love to hear your reasons.”
“Well, because we do. I’ve been seeing you for four months or so, since February. Remember Valentine’s Day was our official first date. And although we’ve spent an adequate amount of time together, we don’t really know each other. Earlier, you said you wanted all of me. But in order for you to have all of me, you have to know all of me. May was the first time that we ever came close to anything sexual and that seemed to be a big step in our relationship, or our friendship, I really don’t know what to call what we have because we haven’t discussed anything long term or anything like that. Anyway, as I was saying, we’ve done the dinners, the walks in the parks, the horse-and-buggy rides, movies, and so on. And yet it’s not enough. Don’t get me wrong, Michael, I’m thankful. You’ve made my life more interesting and wonderful in small ways, the ways that count. But you still don’t know me and I still don’t know you, not like I want to anyway. This weekened will be the turning point in my eyes. It will let us know if we want more or if we want less. I’m certain that I’ll want more of you, but I’m not sure if you will want more of me.” Kennedy pretended to fix her blouse.
“Why, Kennedy? What would make you think something like that? Why would you say something like that?” Michael sat up and turned Kennedy around to face him and looked her directly in the eyes.
Kennedy interlocked her fingers and rubbed her thumbs together. Nervously she cleared her throat. “Well, it’s because I may or may not be the person you think I am.” She shyly and reluctantly looked into his eyes. “But I haven’t lied to you. I do work full time in the summer and I’m almost finished with my master’s degree in business, and I don’t have anyone else, and Kharri is my only child, so don’t panic.”
“Speaking of Kharri, how is she?”
“She’s fine. She’s really excited about turning four.” Kennedy smiled, thinking about her daughter.
“I’m sorry about interrupting.” Michael nodded for her to continue.
“Before I continue, let me ask you a few questions. How uppity and innocent do you think I am? Do you think that I’m so conservative that I don’t get my boogie on? Do you even know what that means? Or do you think that I’m the classical-music type, the opera type? Wait a minute, I’ve got a good one. Do you know what Thug Passion is?”
“No, I definitely wouldn’t have pinned you to be the classical-music type but definitely classical in another way. In your own way. And I’m from the old school, babe. Getting your boogie on means dancing, going out, etc. Conservative? I think yes, but in your own way. And I’m sorry, I don’t know what Thug Passion is.”
“Part right. Getting your boogie on can mean different things. It depends on the topic of conversation. Getting your boogie on usually means that you’re going to party, have sex, drink, and sometimes it’s just a way of saying good-bye without saying what you’re going to do. Thug Passion is a mix of Hennessy and Alizé. Not something that I’d drink in public, not even something I’d admit to drinking.” Kennedy leaned back and laid her head on his lap, feeling more comfortable. Honesty had a way of doing that to her—making her relax. “Now, do you see exactly what I’m trying to get across here? You may see me as this dainty, classy type, and I am. But I am so much more than that.”
Michael nodded and rubbed her leg. “Yeah, you’re right about that. You are definitely more than that.”
“I’m much more than you see because you haven’t seen all of me, I haven’t shown you. When I’m around I speak very polite, and usually I am, just not all the time. Put it like this, around you I’m very aware. Aware of how I speak, I choose my words very carefully so I won’t offend you. I’m aware of how I dress, I may feel like a pair of jeans but because I know that I’ll be meeting you I’ll put on a dress. I’m a very down-to-earth individual, I curse, go out with my friends
to clubs, and occasionally I smoke a cigarette or a joint. I’m not uptight, not saying that you are or anything like that, but I just like to have fun. You know, just be myself, and I’m not sure if you can understand that, but you need to know because if this relationship or friendship goes any farther, you need to know me. You have to know what I like to do and accept me because I’m not going to change and I don’t expect you to change.” Kennedy paused to take a deep breath.
“Forgive me for laughing, but I can’t help it.” Michael wiped tears from his eyes. “You didn’t say anything funny, it’s just that a lot of these things I already know. I’ve heard you cursing at your sister when you thought that you had pushed the mute button on the phone. I’ve seen you literally bob your head to rap music and recite the lyrics word for word in the car and suddenly stop because you didn’t want me to see you. And just last week when we met for dinner at Jezebel’s, I could tell that you had just smoked a joint because as you would say, you had the munchies and were eating everything in sight.” Michael winked and patted her stomach. “You see, I don’t expect you to change, and I appreciate the way you just stood up for what you believe in—yourself. So don’t worry your pretty little self so much.” He playfully pinched her cheek and ran his hand through her freshly done hairdo.
Kennedy grabbed his hand and nibbled on his thumb. “You sure you want to get to know me . . . all of me?” She winked.
“If anything, I’m willing to try and experience what you like. If I had a problem with you, I would have said so in my own gentlemanlike way. You may not realize this, but you excite me. You are fascinating compared to all of the women I know. You have this, as you would say it, fuck-you attitude and that alone is sexy. Strength and security are sexy as hell to me. See, baby, even I curse. You’re just used to seeing me right after I finish with my business and I’m still in my business mode. I can get just as loose as you can,” Michael said, laughing.
Momma's Baby, Daddy's Maybe Page 6
