Head Games

by Mary B. Morrison

  Wiping down the bar, I was sure to intimidate my homies if I told them my count. “Sis, cover for me. I need a lunch break. Be back in an hour,” I told Penny.

  “Thanks to you, Walter is watching our every move. Don’t mess up because it’s the weekend, Trymm. You been doing great all week. Even Walter said so. And don’t forget we’re closing all locations early for the family meeting at Mom’s to finalize the details for the anniversary party.”

  Hmm. Hope at the party, in front of the fam, Walter doesn’t bring up my proposing to Francine. He needed to let that go. “Cool.” Probably an executive decision by you-know-who, to discuss the deets of what was obviously no longer under wraps but I had to ask, “What happened to it being a surprise?” Before I got a response, six new customers walked in. Penny rolled her eyes at me, greeted them.

  What did that mean? Glancing over my shoulder, I hesitated to walk away, stared at Penny, then exited. She could handle it. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing the rest of my siblings later. Did a light jog eight blocks to Jax Brewery on the river.

  Blitz greeted me, “Nigga, you cold-blooded, my brother.”

  “Thanks for the reconnect,” I told Blitz. “AB is back in my starting lineup.”

  Blitz nodded as Dallas said, “Trymm’s ass always been the most scandalous. I got something for y’all tomorrow.”

  “Y’all are clueless. I have to make tracks to confession after all I’ve done,” I said, sitting at the outdoor table with the fellas.

  They all laughed as I placed my iPad in front of me.

  “C’mon, dude. ‘Clydesdale’?” Kohl replied.

  “Don’t forget the ‘2930,’ ” Dallas commented.

  “You know a nigga that’s bigga, homies?” I asked proudly. “Y’all betta shut up and catch up.” I stroked my chin, tapped my tablet. “If I told you my official smashdown that’s right here, you’d think I was lying.”

  “I’m from Missouri,” Blitz said. “You gotta show me.”

  The waitress asked me, “What would you like to drink?”

  The crewe each had five beer shots lined up on wooden planks. “I’m good. Can’t stay long.”

  Dallas drained a shot down his throat. “Bring him what I have,” he insisted. “Man, this challenge opened my eyes to how small this city is. After the festival’s randoms scattered, all that’s left are chicks I’ve ran through already.”

  I smiled. “New faces require new places, D. What’s up with you, Kohl?”

  Smiling back, he said, “Ain’t never a shortage of big gurls in the South. I feed ’em, then fuck ’em, and if they let me fuck ’em first, they’re screwed.”

  “Gimme some,” Dallas said, slapping Kohl’s hand.

  A text registered from Atlantis: I’m available now. We need to talk about last Sunday.

  “What about you, Blitz?” Dallas inquired what I had been thinking.

  He answered, “Ain’t none of y’all threw out a number. You can fuck bitches in your dream, and never catch up to me. Bet.”

  On that note I replied to Atlantis, Headed to a family meeting. Will hit you when I’m done.

  Glancing at the crewe, I let ’em know, “Lunch. Noon. Saturday. Right here. Outside patio, so we can check in for real, ya heard me.”

  The waitress brought my flight. I tossed them back one after the other. Burped. Stood. “Oh, and save the date. My parents’ fiftieth anniversary party is July thirty-first, and I expect each of you to show some respect.”

  The crewe stared at one another. Blitz shrugged, then said, “That’s the day we have to vet and determine the winner? I can’t make that promise. You might wanna push the date back, my brother, ’cause if you a no-show. No dough.”

  “Blitz, that ain’t right,” Kohl said.

  “No, Trymm ain’t right,” Dallas countered. “I can tell you now. The thought of being one pussy short of winning, I’m going to fuck until midnight, then I’m sleeping until noon, then I want my money. I’m not going to be there.”

  “Yeah, I’ll send my love and gift,” Kohl added.

  “Fuck all y’all losers. If I never bang another chick, I already got this.” Picking up my iPad, I left.

  Seemed like those niggas were up to no muthafuckin’ good.

  CHAPTER 8

  Trymm

  Day 9

  Returning to the restaurant, Penny had already locked up and was gone. I doubled-checked to make sure everything was secured, then headed to my parents’ house.

  Ten cars were lined up in their circular driveway in Carrollton. That was one too many. What is Francine’s ride doing here? I parked at the very end of the crescent entry, put my computer in the glove box, then trotted up the paved stretch.

  The lawn was a healthy dark green. The huge oak tree, over a hundred years old, was one I’d played under growing up. I wasn’t a fan of any residence on a plantation, but my dad wanted to own a mansion his ancestors were not allowed to step foot in.

  “Hi, Mom.” I kissed her cheek. Hugged my father. “Hi, Dad.”

  Everyone was gathered at the formal dinner table. Immediately I noticed there were two empty seats instead of one, both opposite Walter. I’d seen her car, but where was she? I sat by Donald Jr., who was a year older than me. According to my parents, he was supposed to be their last Dupree.

  Copping a squat, I was ready to dig into the red beans and rice, jambalaya, mac’n’cheese, fried chicken, and collard greens. Two doberge cakes decorated opposite ends the mahogany Victorian. This was the point where Mom would have us hold hands, and Dad would bless the table.

  Everyone was unusually quiet with their eyes fixated on me.

  Wham! A fist jabbed my face. My blood splashed on DJ. I grabbed my mouth, stared at Walter.

  “What the hell you do that for?!” I said, but no one else spoke a word.

  DJ wiped his face, placed his napkin, which had my blood on it, across his lap. Francine entered, sat next to Walter. Fuck this! I stood.

  “Sit you ass down,” Walter demanded.

  I didn’t say shit. Did as he’d told me. My lips were tight. I wiped my face with my napkin. Better Walter knock me upside my head than for my dad to lay me out. Whatever the fuck was going on, I wanted it out and over.

  No one spoke until our father said, “François.”

  Immediately I responded, “Yes, sir.”

  “You know how hard I’ve worked to build the Dupree legacy for my kids, grands, great-grands, and all the rest that are to come, including yours with Francine.”

  “Yes, sir,” I answered, cutting my eyes in the opposite direction toward Francine.

  She shook her head, but I swore she’d best not be carrying my child.

  “I don’t think you do. What’s all this talk around town about you disrespecting boatloads of naked women?” he asked.

  There was no justification for the game. I never considered how my actions might adversely impact my family. Gazing at Mom’s famous crawfish pasta, I apologized to my mother, sisters, brothers, and my dad. “It won’t happen again.” Curious how they’d found out, I stared at Francine, then at Penny. Francine could be a stalker at times. Penny was the only one with the code to my safe. My sister shook her head. Francine didn’t do shit.

  “ ‘Clydesdale2930,’ huh?” Whenever our dad lowered his voice, he was furious. “You know what’s next.”

  “Yes, sir.” What I had coming was worse than any ass whuppin’ I’d ever had.

  Whenever any of us tarnished the family’s name (in any kind of way), we all voted on whether or not the person at fault would remain a shareholder of Dupree Seafood Restaurants. DJ had bought his wife a $100,000 BMW in the company’s name, and with company money, without getting prior permission. Penny had paid for her daughter’s, and her daughter’s friends’, tour of Europe, but didn’t reimburse the family’s account. Walter had a baby out of wedlock and he bought his side chick and kid a house. This was my first misappropriation. The withdrawal of funds I’d made was from our restau
rant’s line of credit, which I was depositing back in about three weeks with interest.

  The family had unanimously voted to allow DJ, Penny, and Walter to maintain ownership. As a first-time offender, I believed I deserved the same consideration.

  Dad voted, “The level of disrespect I saw to that young lady licking you was beyond my imagination. Probably some stuff you picked up overseas while playing professional basketball. Since it’s your first offense, I say, ‘in.’ ”

  She was no lady, in my opinion. If she were, she wouldn’t have been on her knees voluntarily sucking my dick. She was a cheating, married whore.

  Mom voted, “What you did is a disgrace to all women and our ancestors. Unequivocally, you’re ‘out,’ ” she said.

  Youngest to eldest began to vote. After everyone had spoken, the count was five out. Five in. Walter had the final say. A tie was the same as a hung jury and I’d remain an owner. Once forgiven, no one could bring up the same situation. I couldn’t be mad at any of my family members. Nor were we allowed to hang our head in shame. Dad didn’t play that.

  I lowered my eyes, stared at the pasta.

  If Walter voted me out, I’d have to work off every dime doing janitorial duty at all the restaurants, or I’d need to win the “date, dick, and dump” challenge for real to repay my debt to the family. If I lost, the crewe wouldn’t care. I’d have to contact my agent to see if he could get me back into a foreign league and leave the country.

  If Walter voted me in, I still had to win because if Mom found out about the bet, she was the only person with veto power. Didn’t want to be the first.

  “Walter, it’s time for you to vote, so we can eat,” Mom said.

  Penélope stared at me with tears in her eyes. “I love you, François.”

  Bet that promissory note I’d signed was in her safe. She couldn’t vote against me and not risk exposing her involvement. I loved her more.

  “Penny,” Mother demanded. “Quiet.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Penny answered as tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Walter placed a black box on my empty plate. “I’m going to let you decide if you’re in or out. Diminish the shame you’ve brought on our family’s name. Propose to and immediately marry Francine. And you’re in.”

  I glanced around, fearing our pastor would appear from the back, the way Francine had, if I agreed. “ ‘Immediately’?”

  “You heard me. File for your license Monday, the seventy-two-hour wait period will be met by Thursday, pick up your certificate, and Saturday y’all will marry here. It’s all arranged,” he said.

  Dad asked, “What’s it going to be, son?”

  I wanted to snatch Francine by her braided ponytail and choke that bitch with it.

  For the first time since I’d met her, I hated her ass.

  CHAPTER 9

  Francine

  Day 11

  Wiggling the fingers on my left hand, I told Rene, “You’re looking at the new, soon-to-be Mrs. François Dupree.” The corners of my lips spread as far as I could stretch them. My face started hurting. Holding my smile, I didn’t care if my cheeks went numb.

  Finally I could prove all the naysayers wrong. Trymm had done a bad thing. I realized that. But he hadn’t raped anyone or gotten somebody pregnant. Walter acted as though his illegitimate daughter didn’t have a different mother.

  Closing her office door, Rene said, “You’re kidding me, right? After what he posted on social media a week ago, you’re going to marry that . . . that scumbag.”

  Standing face-to-face, I told her, “Love is blind, and your husband isn’t perfect. Name one guy in this city that we know who hasn’t cheated on his woman. You don’t talk about your husband’s affairs, but he does his dirt, too.”

  “Bitch, don’t you ever let anything come out of your mouth about my husband or my kids. Fuck this job and our friendship, I will beat your ass royally.”

  Stepping back, I’d never seen her that upset. I wasn’t afraid of Rene. What I’d said was true. But at least her husband respected her. “Dang, sorry.” I slid a stack of magazines across her maple desk, then placed my thigh on the edge, and planted my stiletto on the floor.

  “Damn right you sorry.” She sat behind her organized papers. Without looking at me, she said, “I apologize. I didn’t mean that. But Trymm is up to something. You’d better pray it’s not illegal. Give me the deets on how he proposed.”

  What difference did that make? She wasn’t happy I was engaged. If I shared that my man hadn’t formally proposed, she’d feel justified in putting down my fiancé. I knew I could get another man, but he’d probably cheat on me, too, and there was no guarantee he’d be good in bed or financially stable.

  The reason I’d told Rene first was: “I want you to be my matron of honor. The wedding is Saturday.”

  She released the documents in her hand. They floated to the floor. “What the hell, Francine? Saturday?”

  “This Saturday,” I confirmed.

  Rene leaned back in her leather chair, folded her arms, swiveled. “As your friend, I won’t do that to or for you. Trymm is a womanizer. You’re stuck on that gigantic dick, that millions of women, and now men, all over the world have seen.”

  Not that many. “Trymm said it wasn’t him in that video.”

  “Lawdy, Jesus. Are all of the liars and sexual abusers taking denial pills? You can’t seriously believe it wasn’t him. I’ma pray for you for real. You think if a video of your vagina went viral, he’d stay with you?”

  I stood, placed my hands on her desk, got closer to her. “You’re taking this too damn far, Rene! No one accused Trymm of a criminal act. I did not meet François yesterday. He’s played professional ball all around the world. Met all types of women. Marriage is for better or worse.” I bet if I was miserable and single, Rene would be my friend. Now that Trymm put a ring on my finger, she was hating. “Don’t forget who gave you this job. I’ve always been there for you.”

  There was nothing I could do to undo the video. Trymm said it wasn’t him. I knew it was, but I was marrying more than the man. The entire Dupree family had accepted me. I didn’t trap Trymm with a baby. We had one abortion that no one knew about. I never gave him an ultimatum to make me his wife or left him when he needed a break.

  I held up my hand, admired my three-carat engagement ring, which Walter let me pick out. “Mrs. François Dupree.”

  “You, my friend, are stooping to a new low. Don’t come running to me when he beats your ass.”

  Was that supposed to scare me? Or was that what she wanted him to do to me to prove she was right? “François has never laid hands on me, and you know it. Why would you say such a horrible thing?”

  I gazed at the framed picture on the wall. Rene, her husband, and children’s smiles were bright.

  Click. Click. Click. Click. Pinky to pointing, Rene repeatedly tapped eight nails against the desktop. “You don’t get it. He doesn’t have to physically abuse you. Mentally, you are brainwashed. That’s worse. He controls you, Francine.”

  No, he did not. I stayed with my man by choice. I loved him. Was tired of justifying my love. If I were ever to leave Trymm, which I wouldn’t, it would be my decision, not Rene’s. Was her husband better because he covered his shit with dirt like a dog?

  “None of the Dupree men divorce their wives. That’s what Walter said,” I explained. “Marital security is what I want.”

  “Oh, I see. Walter said so. Well, there’s a first time for everything. This is a good time to give you this,” she said, handing me a printout. “This is my two weeks’ resignation and . . .”

  “Rene, no. I apologize. I didn’t mean to offend you,” I pleaded, staring at the paper. Pacing the word SAINTS on the area rug, I told her, “You don’t have to agree with my decision. I just want you to be happy for me.” I put the page from the bottom on top.

  “How can I, when you’re not happy with yourself? I’m tired of your drama.”

  I read in disbelief. “Gen
eral manager?” I re-read it. “They offered you the position over all the hotels in our region?”

  She’d go from a one-hundred-square-foot space with no window to an office at corporate big enough for a conference table. Maybe a corner office with a view.

  Rene stood for the first time since she’d sat down. “They . . . didn’t give it to me. I know my worth. That and, I learned from the best. I earned a job you should’ve had.”

  “Congratulations.” I meant that. Soon Rene would become my boss. “I have one question.”

  “I’m listening.” Her feet were on the first capital s. Mine on the last.

  Standing face-to-face, I asked, “Who makes you happier? Your husband? Or your kids?”

  Quietly I exited her office before she answered. Trymm may not love me unconditionally, but I knew our kids would.

  CHAPTER 10

  Trymm

  Day 13

  Not my ring. Never going to be my wife. Who in the fuck does that arranged-marriage bullshit in America? Not blacks, for sho.

  Walter acted as though Mom and Dad had a terminal disease and both were going to die waiting on me to take a wife then get her pregnant.

  Placing my phone on speaker, I called Atlantis.

  She answered with the sweetest “Hello.”

  “Hey, AB. This is Trymm.” I wiped off the bar.

  Hurricanes, Atomic Bombs, Fishbowls, Crash and Burns, none of that was stuck to the counter the way it was two weeks ago. This was one slow, quiet hump day. I turned the eight stools at an angle facing in the same direction, toward the door.

  “I do have caller ID. And I see some things really don’t change,” she said. “I don’t have time for your boyish mentality, Trymm. Bye.”

  “Wait. Don’t hang up. I really need to see you,” I begged. “You are the only one who gets me.”

  Penny came from the stock room. “Need anything before I leave?”