Getting to the Good Part

by Lolita Files

  I rang the doorbell three times.

  Nobody answered.

  I banged on the door.

  I looked up, trying to see if I saw any movement through the windows upstairs. His car was parked out front and the engine was cold.

  How do I know this?

  Because. I felt the hood. A trick reserved for suspicious heffahs such as myself.

  “Hey!!” I called. “Open up if you’re in there!!”

  One or two people passed by on the sidewalk, going about their business. I stood there, looking around, trying to figure out where in the heck he could be.

  I’d never dropped in on Dandre before, even though I had a key.

  Yes, girl. Home slice had given me a key. He bust out with it one night when we were laying up in his bed and he was feeding me strawberries. He had just finished eating a slice of cake off my thigh.

  Freaky, yes.

  But I ain’t gon’ tell you no lie—that shiznit blew me the hell away!

  So, of course, I had to return the favor and eat some cake off of him, too.

  And you can guess the strategic spot I decided to dine from. I ate it all, leaving nary a speck. (Tyrone and Tyrene taught me always to eat all my food.)

  Moments later, he was proffering me a key.

  How long he’d been planning this move, I’ll never know. Perhaps he’d had the key all the time, and was waiting for the proper moment to drop it on me.

  The gesture seemed totally unplanned when he did it.

  Perhaps it was his very own key, and that cake trick I pulled on him inspired him to give it up like a kidney to a transplantee. I saw him take the key off his keychain. So either he had a spare, or he knew where he could get another.

  Any way you look at it, brotherman gave me total access to the cribbo.

  See there? Just goes to show you that you never know what can happen when you decide to eat out!!

  But, like I said, Dandre always knew when I was coming.

  (To the crib, you nasties. To the crib. I always called ahead to let him know.)

  His brownstone was on the Upper West Side. It was phat and comfy, and I’d spent plenty of nights there since he and I hooked up, getting my freak on and laying out my plan.

  This trip to his house was a test. To see if Miss Divine was right. I wanted to know if brother was, indeed, sprung.

  Or if I was just another random piece of punani for him to conquer and discard.

  Where could he be this time of day? He didn’t have a job. His two hangout partners, me and Rick, had jobs that kept us occupied during the day, for the most part. For me, it was usually rehearsal.

  Most of the time, whenever I called, Dandre was home.

  Suppose he was in there, hoeing it up someone else?

  The thought made me burn a little.

  What the hell was I burning for? It wasn’t like I was falling for him or anything. This was all just a part of the game.

  As I stood there, I felt the key singeing my hand as it hung off my keychain. Calling my name.

  Use me, use me, use me, it cried.

  I tried to ignore it, but the key would not be ignored.

  Girl, put me in the lock! What the hell do you think he gave me to you for?!

  I heard the key, and I knew it was right. Why else would he give it to me if he didn’t want me to use it?

  I knew that was true. But a part of me was a little uneasy. Just in case he was in there with somebody else.

  How would I handle that?

  Reesy, please!! I knew my ass. I would go slam off!!

  But why? Why should I even give a shit if Dandre got his freak on with some other heffah? It wasn’t like I cared one way or the other.

  But there were butterflies in my stomach, and those bad boys were kung-fu fighting at the thought of me just opening that door unannounced.

  I took a deep breath.

  Bump the butterflies. I’d had them before. Dandre was a free man. He could mess around all he wanted. He was just a toy for me play with for a minute, get even with, and then move on.

  I just wanted to test him for the principle of it. To see if he was as true as he claimed.

  I put the burning key in the door, quietly turning the lock. I heard it click. I quickly opened the door and shut it back.

  I rushed over to the alarm system, punched in the code he’d taught me, and disarmed the system. Then I armed it again.

  The foyer, a beautiful splash of lemon yellow walls and mahogany wood, was quiet and unlit. Being careful not to make a sound, I crept stealthily into the living room.

  I stood there for a moment, just drinking everything in. I did this every time I came to his home.

  Dandre’s crib was laid. If you saw it, your freaking jaw would drop.

  My feet sank deeply into the plush bone carpeting and admired the view from where I was standing.

  I walked around the living room, casually checking out Dandre’s things.

  His big, comfortable cream-colored couch was sitting in the middle of the room.

  If cushions could talk. We’d done some nasty things on that sofa, I tell ya.

  In front of the couch was a coffee table made out of pure ivory. On top of it was Dandre’s pride and joy: a mahogany chess set that he’d bought on a trip to West Africa.

  The chess pieces were half a foot high and were carved into the shapes of the people found in an African village. There were griots and tribesmen, chieftains and a shaman.

  We had played chess often in the little bit of time we’d spent together. Dandre played well. I would have never figured him to even be interested in the game.

  The walls of his house were covered with just as much black art as mine. He had an impressive collection. We both favored the works of Varnette Honeywood, Charles Bibbs, and Leroy Campbell.

  I headed toward the bedroom upstairs, running my hand along the massive cherrywood armoire that was the focal point of the living room. That’s where the TV was housed, along with all the other audiovisual equipment.

  “Dandre?” I called softly, walking gingerly up the staircase. “Dandre?”

  I listened carefully for any noises. My ears were particularly pricked to pick up any sexual sounds that might be jumping off somewhere in the house.

  When I got to the landing, I looked in the direction of his bedroom.

  The door was closed.

  Aha!!

  He was probably in there, getting it on. Why the heck would his door be shut, unless he was in there up to no good?

  The butterflies in my stomach were doing demolition work. I could feel the lining of my belly being stripped from the inside out.

  I tipped over to the door, and put my ear against it. I heard heavy breathing.

  The thought that he might be in there getting his boogie on actually enraged me.

  Without hesitation, I flung the door open, determined to catch him in the act.

  I did.

  The act of being balled up, sleeping like a baby.

  He lay there in the middle of the bed, the covers partway off.

  He was naked. I could tell, because the comforter was bunched up around his legs, exposing vital parts of his body.

  I felt kinda silly.

  I also felt kinda horny.

  Dandre had passed my test, dammit, and turned me on in the process.

  I unzipped my jeans and stepped out of them. I pulled my cotton T-shirt over the top of my head.

  A few seconds later, sans panties and bra, I crawled up onto the bed, quietly hovering over the top of his body.

  I wanted to take him in his sleep. That’s when he’d be most vulnerable. If he’d be most vulnerable. If he was still seeing other women, now would be when he’d most likely call out the wrong name.

  I kissed him gently around his neck and shoulders.

  He stirred a little in his sleep.

  “Mmmmmmm… ,” he groaned “Baby, what do you think you’re you doing?”

  I didn’t respond. Not ve
rbally, anyway.

  His hands reached out for me, pulling me closer to his body. I craftily dodged my head out of the way, not wanting him to feel my braids and thereby know.

  “Mmmmm,” he kept moaning, his eyes still closed.

  I burrowed my head deeper. Dandre writhed beneath my touch.

  When I heard him cry “Reesy!!” I smiled.

  He flipped me over and stared into my face. He was groggy, but wide awake.

  “Get a condom,” I whispered.

  Dandre leaned over and reached for one inside the night-stand. I kept a straight face as I watched him put it on.

  Inside, I was pleased, amazed at his compliance.

  Just a little bit longer, I thought, and my work here is done.

  “I’m crazy about you, you know.”

  I lay there in bed staring up at the ceiling. Dandre was holding me in his arms, stroking my braids one by one.

  I had other things on my mind.

  Like those reviews in the paper. And the move to Broadway. My spirits were on cloud nine.

  “How come you didn’t call me and tell me you were coming?” he asked.

  I wondered if the move meant Mimosa would get a wider selection of costumes. That would be awesome if she did. I wanted to be involved in picking them out. I’d talk to Gordon about it.

  Or maybe I’d have to talk to the Germans. It seemed like they were in charge of things already, considering that marquee change.

  I felt a tug on my braids. I looked up.

  “Hey!!” Dandre whispered. “I’ve been talking to you for five minutes, and you haven’t answered me yet.”

  “Sorry,” I replied, rubbing his leg. “I got a lotta things on my mind.”

  “The show?”

  “Yeah. I’m pretty excited about it. Especially after what they said in the papers.”

  “They mentioned the show in the paper? Which one, the Times?”

  I nodded.

  “And in the Village Voice.”

  “Well, what’d they say?” he asked.

  I repositioned myself in his arms. My right buttcheek was falling asleep.

  “The Times said I had the makings of a stellar career. The Village Voice said I was the ‘newest, brightest star in the Nubian sky.’ ”

  “Baby!!” he exclaimed, hugging me tightly and kissing the top of my head. “That’s fantastic!! Have you told Misty and Rick yet?”

  “Uh-uh,” I grunted.

  I’d almost forgotten about my little squabble with Misty. Dandre reached for the phone on the nightstand.

  “What are you doing?” I frantically asked.

  “Giving them a call at Burch. We have to share your good news! Let’s have dinner with them and celebrate before you do the show tonight!”

  I stayed his hand.

  “Just chill. Give me a chance to digest all of this.”

  I kissed his neck, trying to create a distraction. He groaned softly.

  “I didn’t call you because I wanted to see if you would pass my test,” I mumbled, sucking the area just below his ear.

  “What test?” he asked, his tone suspicious.

  “Just a test.”

  “Hmph,” he grunted, nodding. “And did a brother manage to pass this hidden test?”

  I kissed his left shoulder, running my tongue along the muscles there. His eyes were closed.

  “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Dandre muttered. “You could have just been horny.”

  My fingers were playing with the hairs on his chest. It was a jungle of thick, black curls that were soft to the touch.

  I snatched one out, as punishment for his flip remark.

  “Owwwwwwwww!!!” he yelped, grabbing hold of my hand. “Cut that shit out!!!!”

  His brows were knitted tightly in instinctive anger. I ran my tongue across his lips, following the shape of his cupid’s bow. The creases in his brow very quickly fell away.

  “If you wanna know how I feel about you, Reesy, you don’t have to be sneakin’ up on me to find out. I can tell you right now that you’re not gonna find me holed up in my crib with another woman.”

  I kept playing with his lip lines.

  “Because I know that’s what your little test was, wasn’t it?”

  I said nothing, just kick licking my way around his mouth.

  “Huh?” he repeated.

  I began to chew on his chin, ever so sweetly.

  Dandre groaned, throwing his head back just a little.

  “I wouldn’t have given you a key if I wasn’t serious about you,” he mumbled.

  I tasted the stubble that was beginning to grow in.

  We stayed like that for a few minutes, me silently nibbling and tasting his face, as he savored the flava of me savoring him.

  “What happened to your moms?” I asked, feeling unusually close to him for some reason.

  Dandre remained quiet.

  “Never mind,” I added quickly. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  “Naw, babe,” he said, hugging me tightly. “I can talk about her. I just don’t ever really talk about her. ’Na mean?”

  “I guess,” I said.

  But I really didn’t.

  Dandre let out a big sigh.

  “My moms died in childbirth,” he said. “Having me. What’s jacked up about it, though, is that my pops was the doctor.”

  I leaned above him, surprised, but maintaining a reserved look on my face. This was a mode I’d never really seen him in.

  “Dang… Really?”

  “Yeah,” he mumbled, playing absently with my hair. His expression was deep, reflective, and serious. “But it wasn’t his fault. Moms had a bunch of complications, starting with the fact that she wasn’t supposed to be able to carry me full-term to begin with. But you couldn’t tell her otherwise. She carried me around until damn near the end of the ninth month.”

  “Wow,” I whispered.

  “Yeah. Then, on top of that, the cord was wrapped around my throat when I came out. I was strangling bad, and lost a lot of oxygen. Everybody expected both of us to die. Soon as I was born, Moms started hemorrhaging real, real bad.”

  I listened, watching him closely. His face bore a look of abstract pain… something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Like he was telling a story that had really impacted his life in a big way… but it was still a story to him, nonetheless. A fable that had been taught to him in order to explain an absence.

  “Pops took it real hard. Other doctors were called in during the delivery, and they explained to him that there was nothing anybody could do.”

  He chewed on his top lip pensively.

  “But you couldn’t tell my pops that. I think he always believed that he could have saved her, ya know? Like, if he was such a good doctor, he should have been able to at least save his own wife. He’s been trying to save the world ever since.”

  “But he delivered you. He saved your life. Doesn’t he feel like that counts for something?”

  “He does. He really does. And he’s tried to make up for her loss by doting on me.”

  “With money?” I asked.

  “Yeah. And with love. Pops always shows me a lotta love. Say what you want about the money thang, can’t nuthin’ take the place of that.”

  I laid my head down on his chest. Suddenly, at that moment, he wasn’t Dandre-the-would-be-villain to me. He was a fragile thing that walked and talked like a man, but had something altogether different going on underneath.

  “My pops was mad crazy about my moms,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine loving someone that much, and then watching them die right before my very eyes. I think that I’d die right along with them. Ya know? My soul would just raise up and go.”

  I heard something crack in his voice.

  My eyes stung a little. I blinked a couple of times to fight back the invasion.

  “Do you feel like you missed out on a lot because she wasn’t there?”

  “Oh ye
ah. I know I did. Pops never let me forget her. Everyone in my family kept her memory alive. She’s like this legend, ya know? This superwoman that I’ve been using as a standard for most of my life.”

  “Wow. Do you have a picture of her?”

  “Uh-huh. Raise up a sec.”

  I sat up. He reached over and opened the top drawer in his nightstand. He pulled out a cigar box. Like one of those kinds you keep crayons in when you’re a kid.

  “I’ve had this box forever,” he said, sitting up as well.

  “What is it?”

  “Pictures. Of my moms. Of my moms and my pops.”

  He flipped open the box and began handing me photos, one by one. Each one was dominated by a tall woman with delicate bones and a beautiful brown face. Her hair was a short tangle of curls, and her cheeks were deep with dimples.

  “She’s gorgeous.”

  He nodded.

  “Yep. That she was. That she was.”

  I looked up at his face, realizing something. She was, apparently, never really dead to him. Perhaps because she’d never really been alive.

  I put the pictures back in the box, then leaned over and hugged him.

  “What’s that for?” he asked.

  “For being deeper than I deserve,” I mumbled.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Ssssshhhhh,” I whispered. “Just hold me. I want to be like this with you for a quiet minute, okay?”

  We did, gently rocking to some inaudible rhythm. A million emotions were racing through me, the strongest of which I didn’t even want to address.

  I felt like crying and holding him close like that forever.

  “I wanna take you somewhere,” Dandre sighed at last, stroking my braids. “I wanna go away with you for the weekend. I’ve got a place on Martha’s Vineyard. You’d love it there.”

  “Ummm-mmm,” I mumbled. “Can’t do it. Not for a while. I’m too busy with the show.”

  He sighed again, this time in frustration. I felt our beautiful moment beginning to dissolve.

  “Besides,” I added, “I’ve heard about that place.”

  “What have you heard?”

  “Lots. That you call it your pussy pad. That’s where you take your women and do your thang. I heard Rick experienced some kind of personal tragedy out there. All kinds of stuff.”

  “Damn!!” Dandre chuckled. “Pillow talk is a muthafucka!!”