Heels, Heartache & Headlines

by Ni-Ni Simone

  He moaned. “Awwww, daaaaaayum, pumpkin pie, I love it when you talk dirty. I just wanna roll you in egg batter, sprinkle some cheese over you, then slide you under the broiler and watch you bubble up, baby.”

  I frowned. I knew I should have never let his belt buckle hit the floor and given him one of my Spencer specials. Now this boy was becoming cuckoo-crazy.

  I sighed. I was done. “Second, third, and fourth of all, Midnight,” I continued. “This love train we’ve been riding has gone waaaaaay to the left. It’s time to veer off to the side of the tracks and get off. It’s been fun, but I’m too young and beautiful and too irresistibly delicious to be tied down to one boy.”

  “Uh, um, w-what you saying, dumpling?” he asked, sounding taken aback. “Are y-you saying what I think you’re saying? You tryna dump a pimp? You tryna abandon all this good lovin’ I put on you?”

  I rolled my eyes up in my head, fast and hard, almost snapping my sockets loose. Boys and their overly sensitive and enlarged egos! It was draining trying to keep them stroked. My wrists were tired. “No, no. Not dumping you. I still want to be friends. I just don’t want to be rolling around in sugar and all them spices with you right now. We need a break.”

  Silence.

  I blinked. “Hello?”

  Still. Not. A. Word.

  “Midnight? Are you there?”

  “Uh, yeah, sweet pea. I’m here. I’m just tryna wrap my lips around what you’re dishing. Sounds like you tryna wean a pimp off all that sweet milk. You wanna see daddy go cold turkey, huh?”

  I smacked my lips together. “Well, I guess I could be gracious and give you one last teensie-weensie sip of momma’s nectar. But you’re getting it straight out of a sippy cup.”

  “Oh word? You gonna ration it out now?”

  “It’ll be a farewell treat,” I said seductively.

  I could hear him practically salivating over the phone. “So, let me get this straight, sweet potato. You really wanna dead this? You wanna walk away from all this beef jerky and good gravy I’ve been putting on you?”

  “Yes. But we can still be friends.”

  “Friends?”

  “Yes. Friends.”

  “Awww, daaaaayum, baby!” He started howling. Then barking. “Aaah-woooooo! Aaaaah-woooooo! Woof! Woof!” He started growling. I blinked. Then he started back up with the howling and barking.

  “Yes, yes. Who let the dogs out,” I sang in my head. I shimmied one shoulder and let myself get caught up in his yowling.

  “I could just smear ya face in bacon fat, baby, and lick you clean right now,” Midnight said, snatching me from the party going on inside my skull.

  “Huh?”

  “I’m saying, pop tart, you the best, yo. I been tossing and turning all night and woke up with a bad bout of diarrhea stressing over how I was gonna tell you, baby.”

  I frowned. “Tell me what, Midnight?”

  “About Lil Bit.”

  I frowned. “Uh, what about that walrus?” Lil Bit, the convict, was Midnight’s ex. And trying out for a role in Orange Is the New Black. Well, not really. But she should have since she seemed to like being in jumpers. This time she was serving a jail sentence for attacking a cashier and manager down at one of the KFCs for giving her all dark meat instead of a bucket of breasts and wings. That cow was merciless when it came to food. But that wasn’t the first time she’d had her feet shackled. She’d been in jail for six months prior to that for attacking a cashier at her father’s Dairy Queen. That ole humpback whale was rabid. A scavenger.

  “C’mon, sweet roll, don’t go calling Lil Bit names. She has a big heart.”

  And a big back. And a big stomach. And a big face. And a big chin.

  But who’s keeping tally?

  I clucked my tongue. “What about her? Did she eat the warden?”

  “Nah, baby boo-boo. Lil Bit’s coming home on parole.”

  Parole?

  Who in the heck would release her back into the community?

  I made a mental note to address the mayor the next time I saw him out with his mistress.

  “Parole?” I asked, baffled. “I thought she was going to be away for five years.”

  “She was. But with good behavior, she got early parole. Cream puff, Lil Bit coming home to daddy. I ain’t know how I was gonna tell you. But I’m glad you did it for me. Lil Bit talking like she ready to come home and act right and let me seed ’n’ breed.”

  “Oh, so you want to leave all of this goodness to be with that moose, huh, Midnight?”

  “Now hol’ up, lamb chop. You broke it off with me, remember?”

  I huffed. “Well, of course I did. But that’s before I knew you wanted to end it with me. So how long have you been seeing that ox behind my back, huh, Midnight?”

  “I haven’t been to see her, sweet potato. We’ve only been writing and talking on the phone. I accept her collect calls.”

  My nose flared. “Oh, so you’ve been cheating on me all this time, huh, Midnight? What, you’ve been writing her dirty letters and talking filthy over the phone to help her get through her lonely nights?”

  “Nah, nah, biscuit baby. Nothing like that. We’ve been taking it slow. Talking about all the new restaurants she wants to try out when she gets out. I told her about the new steak ’n’ shrimp basket they have out down at—”

  I cut him off. “Save it, Midnight! Go choke on a rib bone! Ooh, you lucky I can’t reach through this phone and rip your esophagus out, then split your eyeballs open. You, you low-down, no-good prison husband! You, you hog licker! You couldn’t even have the decency to cheat on me with someone out in the free world. No, you had to two-time me with some caged beast.”

  “Sweet pea—”

  “Oh shut up!” I snapped, cutting him off. “When is she getting released back out into the wild, Midnight?”

  “Uh, um, see I’m picking her up tomorrow.”

  I blinked. “Whaaat?!” I shrieked. “Tomorrow? And when were you going to give me the memo, huh, Midnight? When I walked in on you nibbling on her hoofs? When I caught you massaging her back Jell-O? Oh, you had better hope I don’t ever run into you with her. I have a harpoon with her name on it, but I’m going to use it on you instead.”

  “Now, don’t be like that, muffin. You real special to me, boo-boo baby. You’re like a four piece and a side of mac ’n’ cheese and collards with two biscuits. But Lil Bit . . .” he paused. I thought I heard him sniffle. “Lil Bit’s my All You Can Eat platter, baby. She has my heart.”

  “Boy, bye!”

  Click.

  I disconnected the call.

  How dare that boy want to dump me!

  Ha!

  Good thing I dumped him first.

  22

  Rich

  “Roll the dice, baby girl! ’Cause I want some customized Jordans!”

  I twisted my lips, and my eyes dropped to the pile of money on the floor. A grand. Damn.

  I couldn’t lose a grand.

  Actually it could’ve been a dollar and I wouldn’t wanna lose it. When it came to craps, I was used to beatin’ Justice. But obviously the days he spent mad at me he’d been practicing.

  I sucked my teeth and said, “Boy, bye. If anything, you about to pay for a pair of heels for me. ’Cause when I sail this dice, I’ma take all ya’ lil rent money.” I looked up at him, winked, then tossed the dice.

  Bam!

  Snake eye.

  Dead!

  Justice cracked up and I almost fainted. Justice collected the pile of money off of the floor and said, “You wanna kiss the ring now, or later?” He slapped me on the behind.

  I did my best to play off being a sore loser, so I turned around and wrapped my arms around his waist. “Baby, I let you win.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, a’ight.” He gently pressed his lips into my forehead . . . my nose . . . my lips . . . my neck. He lifted my shirt about my head and moved on to my navel. Then he stopped. Now that pissed me off. “What the what? Whatchu stop fo
r?”

  He smiled. “I won.” He unbuckled his pants...

  * * *

  I swear, I loved this man. He was perfect. Everything I needed and more.

  And he knew me. Really, really knew me.

  And he loved me.

  Flaws and all.

  We were posted up in his bed. He was asleep, and I lay with my head on his rippled chest, listening to his heartbeat.

  After another hour of lying there, Justice stroked my hair and said, “Baby.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You love me?”

  I laughed. “Of course.”

  “You better.” He caressed my back. “ ’Cause I love you too.”

  “Awwl, you’re so sweet.” I kissed his stomach.

  He tucked my hair behind my ear. “Babe, when I make it big, we be out this piece, and I’ma get me a fly crib in Holmbly Hills somewhere.”

  “A’ight now. Snap. Snap. My boo gon’ be so hot that people gon’ be like Drake who?”

  He smiled. “Word. And I know you gon get on the track with me.”

  “You know this.”

  “That’s wassup.” Justice’s voice drifted, and I could tell his thoughts had eased into a daydream.

  After a few minutes of Justice being lost in his thoughts, I said, “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  “How do you feel about babies?”

  He frowned. “Babies? Where that question come from?”

  I shrugged. “Just asking.”

  “Nah.” He shook his head. “I ain’t wit’ no babies. I don’t even really like kids.”

  I sucked in a breath, and he hesitated. “Why?” he pressed and sat up in bed. “You tryna tell me something?”

  “I was just asking you a question. I mean, we are engaged, and one day we’ll have a baby or two . . . I hope.”

  “Yeah, we’re engaged, and I can’t wait for the day you become Mrs. Banks. And one day I’ll fill you with a lot of babies, just not today.”

  “Well, when?”

  He squinted. “What? You pregnant or something?”

  I sucked my teeth. “Did I say that? I was only asking you a simple question. Just like you got dreams, I do too. And one day I want us to have a Justice Jr. and a daughter named Just.”

  “Yo, you buggin’. I see I’ma have to start wrappin’ it up with you. ’Cause you doin’ too much.”

  “Excuse you? And how is that? I’m laying here talking about our future, and now I’m doin’ too much? Really? Word?”

  Justice shook his head. “There you go, about to start. Take it down and get that base outcha throat. We been doin’ good for three days. Don’t eff around and get put out. ’Cause I’m not in the mood for your slick mouth, and I damn sure don’t wanna hear about no babies. Unless, like I said, you got something you tryna tell me. So I’ma ask you this again: Are you pregnant?”

  “No! I’m not!”

  “Well, then, don’t ask me no more dumb questions! Stop being an idiot, yo!”

  Idiot? Oh no he didn’t! “I asked you a question and you trippin’. And don’t call me an idiot again!”

  “Then stop acting like one! You always sayin’ something stupid. And the more you talk, the dumber you sound. I see why you failing all your classes. You two steps from special ed.”

  “I’m not failing all my classes, thank you!”

  “Oh, that’s right. Your mother pays for your grades.”

  I felt like he’d slapped me. I told him that in confidence, not for him to throw it up in my face.

  He continued, “You don’t know how to just chill; you gotta turn up all the time! This is why your mother stays bustin’ your behind, and word is bond, if you get to poppin’ off up in here today, I’ma press a belt buckle in your back! And that’s my word.”

  “Pause. Negative. I don’t know who you think you’re talking to. But you won’t put your hands or your belt on me! I’m not the one!”

  “Shut up!”

  “I don’t have to shut up! I don’t know who you think you talkin’ to! London? One of your five other kids’ baby mamas?”

  Justice’s eyes grew bright with surprise.

  I continued, “Talking about you don’t like kids. I guess not, when you already got fifty you don’t take care of! Yeah, nucca. You didn’t think I knew that, did you? Well, gut check. And you may as well admit it instead of fixing your big lips to lie.”

  “Lie? You’re the only liar I see. You lied to college boy about that last abortion you had. You lie to ya mom and pops er’day. You lie to the media, pretending to be a Pampered Princess. But you can’t lie to me ’cause I know you. You’re insecure, fat, and a whore. Easy. You like a stray dog around here. Any nucca that feed you can have you grabbing your ankles.”

  Whap!

  I tossed a slap so hard across Justice’s face that it stung my fingertips.

  Before I could figure out what to do next, Justice had dragged me out of the bed with one hand and snatched his belt off his dresser with the other.

  23

  London

  Anderson.

  God I missed him.

  Anderson.

  Anderson.

  Anderson.

  I’d let him slip away.

  Pushed him aside.

  Rejected him.

  And now I missed him. Terribly.

  I missed his goofy laugh. Missed his quirkiness. Missed the way he used to look at me whenever he was trying to figure me out.

  Oh, God, how I screwed that up.

  He’d been my parent-approved boyfriend since I was fourteen. One, we’d been paired because he was from a wealthy family and from good stock, as my mother would say. Two, his mother and my mother were sorority sisters. And, three, he’d make a fine husband one day, as my mother had always insisted.

  My mother’s voice played in my head.

  “Anderson is a good man . . . You will learn to love him . . .”

  I wiped my tear-streaked face with my hands.

  How could I have been so stupid?

  I spent all of my time looking for love from Justice when it’d been already staring me in the face all along.

  Anderson was the one person who saw me for me.

  Flawed.

  Yet, he’d accepted me.

  Wanted to love me.

  And all I ever did was push him away. Treated him coldly. And only wanted to be bothered with him when it was convenient. When I needed to sport myself on his arm for my mother and for appearance’s sake.

  Anderson knew about Justice and me.

  He knew Justice was all I was ever consumed with. And yet he still stood by me and played along, pretending to be my boyfriend, always covering for me whenever I needed him to.

  And he was the one who’d comforted me, on many occasions, every time Justice would do or say something to crush my spirit and make me cry.

  Yes, he could be a pompous jackass at times. And, yes, he was arrogant and egotistical and . . . okay, corny. But he was handsome, kind, thoughtful, and highly intelligent. He was everything Justice wasn’t.

  A gentleman.

  And my parents adored him.

  Unfortunately, he’d finally had enough of all of my confusion and Justice drama that he told me he wanted nothing else to do with me.

  Right after he told me he loved me.

  That he was in love with me.

  “I’m done throwing myself at your feet. I’m not going to exert any more of my energy on someone who doesn’t want me the way I want them . . . I’m done being your adviser, your confidante, and the keeper of all your lies and secrets. I’m taking off the superhero cape and moving on. I’m in love with you, London. But I’m not playing this game with you. Delete my number . . .”

  I choked back a sob from the memory.

  I have to find a way to get him back.

  I was so wrong for treating him the way I did. For taking him for granted. For calling him names and insinuating that he liked boys when, in
fact, it was all a misunderstanding. I just thought he did because of something he’d shared with me.

  And I didn’t think he was really interested in me—in that way.

  Until, until...

  The night he’d kissed me.

  The night I’d called him at almost four in the morning when I was too distraught to drive home after a night of pacing outside of some lounge after I’d received anonymous text messages that Justice was up in one of the hotel rooms getting filthy with some tramp.

  But I didn’t catch him in the act. Instead, I’d caught him speeding out of the hotel’s parking lot, and I started following behind him, running red lights and swerving down one-way streets just to keep up with him, but when I lost him, I broke down in tears. Became too hysterical to drive.

  And called Anderson.

  Thirty minutes later, his limo was pulling up behind me. He’d slid into the driver’s seat. Wiped my tears with the pads of his thumbs. Stroked my chin. Tucked my hair behind my ear. Then grabbed me by the chin and guided me to him, kissing me. It was a quick peck at first. But then he kissed me again. And it evolved into something more. It’d caught me off guard, but, surprisingly, I hadn’t pulled away.

  I hadn’t resisted.

  I’d simply melted into his lips.

  Because I liked it.

  Maybe because a secret part of me wanted it.

  Maybe.

  No. If I were perfectly honest, there was no maybe in it.

  I wanted it. And I liked it.

  Oh, God . . . Anderson. I miss you so much.

  I wiped more tears from my face, then reached for my phone. I scrolled through my contacts, then dialed the number I wanted.

  “Anderson Ford here,” he said, picking up after four rings.

  It was soooo good to hear his voice.

  “H-hi, Anderson.” My voice cracked.

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s . . . me,” I said meekly. “London.”

  “Who?”

  I swallowed. “London.” I forced a laugh. “You’ve forgotten who I am already?”