Shame on It All

by Zane

  Harmony pushed her untouched plate to the side. Lucky wished she had a hair weave like Bryce as a protective helmet from the verbal bullets about to be fired. Much to her surprise, Harmony’s voice was rather calm. “All right, Bryce. Since you think you’re sporting the bomb-ass pussy between your legs and have such an exciting sex life, amuse me. Tell me, tell us, what you did Memorial Day weekend.”

  “No, you go first, Harmony,” Bryce replied. “Age before beauty.”

  “What, you’re scared now? You’re worried that I might have actually done something more erotic than you?”

  “Erotic? Chile, please! The closest you ever get to erotic is ordering lace drawers from the Victoria’s Secret catalog.”

  “Hmm, just like I figured,” Harmony lashed back.

  “Chicken!”

  Lucky laughed and started flapping her elbows, almost knocking Bryce’s plate on the floor.

  Bryce caught it. “Okay, since you seem to be so damn interested, I’ll gladly tell you. But, there’s one condition.”

  “Which is?” Harmony asked with a lifted brow.

  “If I tell the two of you what I did Memorial Day, you both have to do the same and not hold anything back.”

  “Deal,” agreed Lucky.

  Harmony nodded and also agreed. “Deal.”

  “Cool! So, we don’t leave here until all the dirt flies. Period!” Bryce pushed her plate aside so she could have some elbow room while she was relating her erotic adventure. “Aiight, here it goes. Ironically, it all started when this nucca called me a bitch.”

  Harmony smirked. “Figures!”

  2

  The Feeling’s Mutual

  You stupid bitch! Can’t you fucking see?”

  I just knew this man was not talking to me. I glanced over at Colette, my homegurl, who was sitting beside me in the passenger seat, searching for some sort of reassurance that the silly muthafucka didn’t mean me. I don’t know what it is about the B-word but the shit sets me off.

  I yelled out the window of my car back at him, “Fuck you! You fucking piece of shit!”

  He yelled out, “Deez nuts!” and flipped me the finger, put the pedal to the metal, then screeched off in his red Mazda RX-7 with the personalized license plate that read THE MAN.

  I was cursing under my breath while he pulled off from the light, trick ass. “I hate it when people cut me off in traffic and then pretend like it’s my fault and shit! Men can’t fucking drive anyway! They’re only good for one thing!”

  Colette laughed, trying to calm me down some. “Bryce, don’t sweat it, gurl. Shit happens, ya know?”

  That didn’t help much. “I know shit happens, but still. He pulls out in front of me, when I had the right of way, and then has the audacity to call me a bitch! Fuck him!”

  “Now that you mention it, Sis, I wouldn’t mind.” I glared at Colette. She was grinning from ear to ear. “Well, damn, Bryce. He was fine as all hell. If I met him in a club or something, I would tear his ass up.”

  “You know what, Colette? You’re getting too old to be thinking with your coochie-coo. You need to start thinking with your mind.”

  “Damn, what crawled up your ass and died? You’re in such a bitchy mood today!”

  I left it at that ’cause I didn’t want to have to get medieval on her ass. I turned the radio up so loud the bass was making my gas pedal vibrate. Colette got the hint that I didn’t care to discuss it any further. First, the asshole in the other car calls me a bitch and then my own friend calls me bitchy. The day was getting off to a messed-up start and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it one iota.

  Truth is, they were both correct about me being bitchy. George and I had had a big quarrel the night before on the phone. He called me from his so-called business trip talking trash and asking me a bunch of questions about what I was doing while he was away. That pissed me off because I read somewhere that over 80 percent of men, married or not, take condoms with them on business trips just in case they get lucky. On top of that, it’s a commonly known fact that men only ask a bunch of questions and throw accusations when their asses are guilty themselves. They figure the woman must also be cheating since they are.

  I had been through the scenario too many times before and I knew George was nothing but a playa. I lay awake the night before musing over it and decided it just wasn’t worth it. As soon as he returned from his trip, I was calling it off. After all, the only way to get respect is to demand it and accept nothing less.

  I almost missed my turn because my mind was wandering. I came to my senses and started concentrating on my driving instead of my shitty-ass man. Colette and I were on the way to a Memorial Day cookout at our friend Lamar’s house out in Upper Marlboro, Maryland. I was more than ready to get there. I was stressed and needed to sit down underneath a shade tree with a brewsky and chill. A small part of me was hoping I might find a decent man there, but I wasn’t about to hold my breath. Good men are like good hairdressers. Hard as hell to find.

  We made the last turn before getting to his house and could see all the cars parked up and down the street. Colette broke the silence and turned the radio all the way down. “Damn, look at all these peeps. I know I’m going to find me some action up in this piece.”

  I rolled my eyes at her, not wanting to divulge that I was halfway hoping to find me some action, too. I turned the radio back up while I looked for a place to park cause my cut, “Untitled” by D’Angelo, was on. I just love the way he grins at his dick during that video. Talk about power of the imagination. I can just imagine him slinging it this-a-way.

  You ever notice how people turn the radio all the way down or completely off when they start approaching their destination instead of waiting till they park? It’s almost like they’re trying to creep up on the place and the radio will somehow give them away. Makes no sense because it’s not like people can’t hear the car motor, and besides, why creep anyway? I think it’s just one of those subconscious things people develop a habit of doing.

  I was looking for a spot, listening to my cut, and wondering why Colette had turned it down in the first place when I saw it. “Fuck! Ain’t this some shit!”

  Colette had no idea what I was talking about. “What’s wrong, girl? You okay?”

  I could only manage to point. Colette looked in the direction my finger was pointing and immediately saw the problem. A red RX-7 with a tag saying THE MAN was parked in Lamar’s driveway. I wanted to scream.

  I drove all the way across town for this cookout, thinking I would at least have a halfway decent time, chilling out with friends, playing cards, eating some grilled chicken and corn on the cob, whatever. Why did that trick ass have to be at the same cookout? Shame on it all!

  Colette reached over and started patting my shoulder. “Bryce, it’s all good. Just ignore his ass. Hell, I’ll keep him occupied so he won’t bother you.”

  I jerked my shoulder so her hand would let loose and started parallel parking in the one space left on the whole block, other than in front of the fire hydrant. I wasn’t about to get a ticket so I squeezed my car into the cramped space.

  Colette was getting on my last nerve, but neither she nor THE MAN were going to ruin my day. I came to have a good time and that’s exactly what I planned to do. Let’s face it. There was no point in even going unless I was willing to put forth some effort to have fun.

  After I successfully maneuvered into the space and cut the engine, Colette and I did the female thing: looked in the mirrors and primped. I used the rearview mirror while she utilized the one under the sun visor. We had to make sure our lipstick and eyeliner weren’t smudging, there was no lipstick on our teeth, and of course, that not a single strand of hair was out of place.

  After we both made sure we were looking foine, we got out the car and started walking the half block to Lamar’s house. The scent of BBQ ribs and chicken was in the breeze. I could hardly wait to sink my teeth into a little sumptin’ sumptin’. I’d skipped breakfast on purpose
so I would be good and hungry by the time we got to the cookout.

  We could hear people laughing and talking loudly as we got closer, along with the faint nose of some music playing. Probably from a little boom box. We walked past the front door and headed straight for the gate leading to the backyard. I know the feeling when people start tracking through the inside of your house when the party is really outside. So other than going inside to use the rest room, I always stay outdoors.

  There is always an exception to the rule. My exception came when I went in the backyard and that trick ass started bothering me. We spotted each other at the same time; both of us had that I’m-gonna-kick-your-fucking-ass expression on our faces. I had him at a disadvantage because, after seeing his car out front, I knew he was there already. He was in shock. I was hoping he had a weak heart and would keel the fuck over right then and there.

  He was on the opposite side of the yard from the gate, talking to some hoochie with long, fake nails and a weave that looked like one of those you can put on layaway. It figured he would be into women with no class since he had none his damn self. I have a weave, but my shit looks good.

  Colette broke my damn concentration. “Bryce, I see Lamar over there. I’m going to go speak and see what the haps are.”

  “Okay, I’ll be around here someplace. I’m about to grab sumptin’ to drink and find an available chair in the shade.”

  “Kewl!” With that she switched off, utilizing the walk she’d spent years perfecting. I really should’ve gone with her to speak to Lamar since he was the host, but he was on the other side of the lawn near that thing and I wasn’t about to go anywhere near him.

  I saw a group of guys standing around an oak tree and figured that must be where the beer cooler was located. I was right and asked one of them to hand me a Miller Lite. They all started looking me over and not even trying to fake the funk. Men and women are totally different. Women check men out, too, everything from their shoes to their fingernails to their dicks, but we do it with style.

  I found a nice spot in the shade and plopped down on a comfortable lounger. I was sitting there minding my own damn business when THE MAN came walking straight toward me.

  Before he could even open his mouth, I got in his ass. “Look, I’m really not in the mood for this. We had a near-miss car accident, we were both angry, and the shit is over with now. So just take your ass back over there and it’s all good.”

  He laughed at me, the trick. “First of all, I was coming over here to apologize to you and introduce myself, but I can see you’re in a foul-ass mood.”

  As mad as I was at him, seeing him up close was not such a bad thing. Colette was right. He was fine as hell. He looked to be about five-nine and he was cut. He had hazel eyes and a caramel complexion. I was thinking of lowering my guard, allowing him to apologize and all of that. Then, I remembered him calling me a bitch and flipping me the finger.

  “You’re right. I’m in a foul-ass mood. As far as an introduction, I don’t wanna know your ass. You already called me bitch, so that’s my name. Go back over there and talk to that frog-faced hoe and leave me the fuck alone.”

  “Okay, BITCH!” he spewed at me.

  I was about to get up off the chair and ram my foot up his ass, but he walked away too fast.

  We managed to avoid each other until I got in the long line of peeps rushing to fix a plate once the food was ready. I felt someone breathing down my neck, turned around, and his skank ass was in line behind me.

  I was starving and all that jazz, but I wasn’t about to be anywhere near him. I admit I was acting immature about the whole thing. However, something about him irked the hell out of me.

  I told the guy I had been chatting with most of the afternoon, who was standing beside me in line, that I wasn’t hungry after all and would catch up to him later.

  As I walked away, I turned around and rolled my eyes at the trick. I went inside Lamar’s house through his living room patio doors, on my way to the powder room on the first floor. I didn’t have to go. I just wanted a moment of peace without having so many people around.

  George had obviously gotten to me on the phone more than I realized. I felt so stressed, every muscle in my body seemed tense.

  I went in the powder room and glared in the mirror. I looked at myself, wondering why I always got all the losers. It isn’t like I’m ugly. In fact, far from it. I’m five-four, 128 pounds, with a deep caramel complexion and sepia eyes. I spend a lot of time making myself look nice and hours and hours at the gym keeping my body in shape.

  I turned sideways to look at my physique in the mirror. My tits were firm and so was my ass. They both looked succulent in the mocha, skintight spandex dress I was wearing. My hair was straight. I even peeped my toes and they looked good to go.

  Still, for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why all the maggots of the world gravitated in my direction. After I made sure my makeup was all in place, I opened the bathroom door, planning to return to the cookout. I figured the food line was probably down to a minimum by then and the asshole should be sitting down somewhere feeding his face.

  I was glancing down at my purse, replacing the lipstick, when I bumped right into his trick ass. He’d apparently been waiting to take a leak.

  He snarled at me, “Well, excuse you!”

  “Let me tell you something! You don’t know me, but I am not the one and this isn’t the day to be fucking with me, aiight?” I started to walk away from him when he grabbed me by the arm and swung me around.

  “Listen, Baby, I apologize okay? I shouldn’t have acted so ugly towards you this morning in the car or after you got here. I’m really not a bad person.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Can I have my arm back?”

  He let go, extending his hand to me. “I’m Troy.”

  I took his hand and shook it, but still didn’t tell him my name.

  “Let’s try this again. I’m Troy and you are?”

  “Bryce.” I threw him half a smile since his eyes were kind of turning me on.

  “Nice to meet you, Bryce.”

  “Same here.” I pulled my hand away from him, not even realizing he still had a firm grip on it. “Well, I’m going to go get some food now. Peace.”

  With that, I walked away. I could feel his sexy eyes boring a hole through my ass until I hit the patio doors and went back outside.

  Colette came rushing up to me. “Uh-huh, I saw your fresh behind in there talking to him. Spill it, gurl!”

  “Colette, please calm the hell down. He just apologized. That’s it.” I headed toward the food table, leaving her standing there in all of her hoochiness.

  “Yeah, right. Whatever, Bryce.”

  I finally got my eat on and was sitting under a shade tree talking to Lamar and downing another brewsky when I noticed Troy pointing at me. He was standing in the middle of a group of skeezers and making hand motions, as if he were turning a steering wheel. I couldn’t believe his trick ass had apologized, then turned around and started talking shit about me to other people.

  My head started aching something fierce so I asked Lamar, “Baby, do you mind if I go lie down in your basement for a little while? My head is killing me. I think it’s just the sun.”

  “Sure, Baby! Want some Tylenol?” Lamar was a sweetheart, as always. He and I had almost gotten a little thing going on when we first met, but things never panned out. Just one of those things.

  “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.” I got up and started walking toward the house.

  “Shit, you’re already fine!” I turned around and winked at Lamar. “You can go upstairs and lie down in my bedroom if you like. It’s more comfortable.”

  “Naw, Boo, the basement is fine. It’s cooler down there and I think it will make my head clear up faster.”

  “Okay, Boo.”

  I walked past Troy, profiling for his hoochie harem, rolling my eyes at him on my way into the house. I went down in Lamar’s basement and noticed he’d gotten a pool table
since the last time I’d visited. I’ve always loved playing pool. My sisters and I used to play pool in my grandparents’ basement when we were kids.

  I flipped through Lamar’s extremely diverse CD collection, discovered a compilation of slow jams, put it in, and turned it on. After a couple of minutes, I realized I was too excited to lie still and got up. I didn’t know why I was excited. Just was. George had been away a few days and dick is like oxygen. You don’t miss it till it’s gone. I was mad horny.

  The pool table seemed to be calling out my name so I went over and racked the balls. Playing pool alone is just as much fun as playing with someone else; at least to me.

  I was seriously out of practice. I had a hard time getting the first three balls in. It was then that I heard the basement door open and close, followed by footsteps coming down the carpeted stairs.

  I figured Lamar had decided to come check on me. “Lamar, I’m knocking around a few balls. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Knocking balls around, huh? Sounds kinky!”

  I couldn’t freakin’ believe it. It wasn’t Lamar. It was Troy’s trick ass again. “What is your problem? Now you’re following me around and shit?”

  He laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was just coming to see if you’re all right and to find out if I’m the reason you came inside.”

  “NEE-AH-GRO, pleasssse! Now who’s flattering themselves?” I igged his ass and went back to playing pool. “You have some serious issues.”

  “Can I play?” He was standing right beside the pool table, peeping my ass while I was bent over setting up my next move.

  “Hell no, you can’t play, trick. What you can do is leave.”

  “You know what? I thought you and I might be able to work things out at first, but I can see now, you’re a lost cause.” He turned around and headed toward the stairs.

  “I don’t say this often.” I was really pissed off at that point. Pissed off with a wet pussy. “I get along with most people, but I hate your fucking guts.”