by Carl Weber
“You right, I’m drunk,” he admitted, still smiling at me. “And maybe I should be quiet. But just remember, drunk people usually tell the truth. So I’m telling you, Darnel, you need to get some ass before you get married. I could set it up like that.” He snapped his fingers.
I was amazed at how persistent Omar was. He knew damn well that Keisha was my life, so he was wasting his time trying to convince me to cheat on her.
I lay down on the bed. “Can’t do it, buddy. I’m a one-woman man.”
“You wasn’t such a one-woman man when that stripper was giving you that lap dance in the corner, were you?” Omar’s smile widened. “I saw the way you was trying to hide your hard dick once she got off of you.” He imitated my actions, crossing his arms casually over his lap.
I turned my head away so he wouldn’t see my smirk. I had indeed been turned on by the honey-colored stripper who called herself Destiny. She had coaxed me into a lap dance when I thought everyone was watching the other strippers do tricks. I ’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. But that still didn’t mean I wanted to have sex with her.
“You saw that, huh?” I said.
“Yeah, I saw it. So did half the other brothers in the room.”
“Jesus Christ.” I was so embarrassed.
“What’s wrong with you? It was a fuckin’ bachelor party, Dee. What? Your dick not supposed to get hard when a fine-ass naked woman sits on your lap? I ’d be worried if it didn’t.” Omar smiled as he tried once again to tempt me to get laid by another woman on the night before my wedding. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off that fine-ass honey the rest of the night, could you?”
“You just don’t understand. Keisha is my soul mate. I’m not supposed to be attracted to any other woman that way. I made a promise, and I’m keeping it.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Omar paced back and forth like a lawyer delivering a passionate closing argument. “I mean, I appreciate that being faithful shit, but you take it to another level. You need to have some fun, Dee.”
I didn’t have a chance to answer him, because his cell phone rang. He must have been expecting the call, because suddenly his eyes lit up and he looked really excited. He answered the phone in a hurry and took it into the bathroom. Unlike when he used the toilet before, this time he closed the door behind him.
He came out about five minutes later, smiling.
“Yo, I’m about to hook up with one of them strippers. Her friend Destiny asked about you. She wanted to know if you wanted to hang.” He looked at me eagerly. “This is your last opportunity, man.”
“Nah, you go. I’m gonna chill out right here and get some rest. I got a big day ahead of me.”
“Whatever.” Omar shook his head, looking very disappointed in me as he headed for the door. “If you change your mind, give me a call.”
“I won’t,” I assured him.
Once he was gone, I pulled out my cell and dialed Keisha’s number. She answered on the second ring with a sweet, “Hello.” I loved her voice. I know it sounds corny, but it was like music to my ears. I can’t even begin to explain how much I loved this woman.
“Hey, babe,” I greeted her. I was lying on my side, remembering how beautiful she looked tonight at the rehearsal dinner. I couldn’t wait to make her my wife.
“Hey, boo.” She sounded excited to hear from me. “You still at the bachelor party?”
“Nah, I’m in the room, bored and lonely.”
“Oh, my poor baby.” She was using this cute little-girl voice. “Don’t worry. After tomorrow, you don’t ever have to be lonely again.”
“I like the sound of that. So what you doing?”
“I’m about to leave the bar and go up to my room. Tia done found her some man.”
“Figures,” I replied. “Hey, want some company?”
“I’d love some … tomorrow night.” She chuckled. “I know what you’re up to, Mr. Black. You ain’t gettin’ none until after the wedding. Besides, you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”
Keisha had been holding out on me for the past three weeks. We shared an apartment together, but she’d been making me sleep in the guest room, telling me some crap about I ’d appreciate it more if we waited until after the wedding. As horny as I was the past few days, I was deeply regretting the fact that I ’d actually agreed to our mini-celibacy.
“Okay, okay. I guess I’ll go see if I can find my other best friend.”
“I just saw Omar and some woman leaving the hotel.”
“It was probably that stripper he was going to meet.”
“Maybe. Look, baby, I’m about to get in the elevator. If I lose the signal, I’ll call you back.”
“Nah, it’s a’ight, babe. You go ’head. I’ll see you in the morning. I love you, Mrs. Black.”
“I love you, too, Mr. Black. Good night.” I could hear her smiling through the phone. She loved it when I called her Mrs. Black.
“Night, babe.” I hung up the phone, fiending for my woman. I just wanted to be near her. Hell, I would have settled for a kiss and a hug.
One long, lonely hour later, I found myself wishing that I had gone with Omar—not to have sex with that woman Destiny or anything, but just to get out of the room. I was so keyed up. When I first got to the room, I was dead tired, but after talking to Keisha, anxiety set in and I couldn’t sleep. All I could do was think of her and the wedding. Was everything going to be all right? Were the limos going to pick us up on time? Was the reception going to be decorated the way we wanted? Was Omar going to get back from screwing that woman on time? Were my father and stepfather going to get along? There were so many things running through my mind.
Whenever I had nights like this, when I had too much on my mind, Keisha was always the one who could soothe me and help me fall asleep. If I could just get one kiss, I thought, I could make it through the night. One kiss was all I wanted. Never mind all that “bad luck to see the bride” stuff; I decided to go surprise my future wife.
I got out of bed, still feeling the effects of the alcohol. I wasn’t as bad as when I had first got back to the room, but I was still drunk.
I staggered to the elevator, punched the DOWN button, and rode to the lobby. Fortunately, I wasn’t so drunk that the lady at the front desk would give me a hard time. I told her that I had lost my key to the wedding suite. The truth was that Keisha was staying there alone tonight, and we would be there together after the wedding. But the desk clerk didn’t need to know those details. As long as the name on my driver’s license matched the name on the reservation, she was happy to give me a duplicate key card.
“Congratulations,” she said with a smile.
“Thanks,” I answered as I grabbed a handful of mints and headed back to the elevator. As I rode up to the twentieth floor, I popped a few mints in my mouth to mask the smell of alcohol on my breath. Keisha hated when I was drunk.
I couldn’t wait to see her. Maybe if I played my cards right, I would get more than a kiss.
When I got to the suite, I slid the card in the door and walked into the living room. The lights were out, and I didn’t see any reason to turn them on as I walked from the living room into the bedroom. There were enough bright city lights coming through the space between the curtains for me to see everything I needed to. And what I saw was my worst nightmare come true.
On the bed, lying naked on her stomach, was Keisha. Now, normally that wouldn’t have been a bad thing, but lying on top of her was Omar. That’s right, Omar. The same Omar who was supposed to be my best friend and the best man in my wedding tomorrow, the same Omar who had tried his damnedest to get me to cheat on Keisha, was now screwing her from behind. Oh, and was he having a good old time, too, pumping away like there was no tomorrow. Unfortunately for him, there would be no tomorrow, because I was going to kill him.
Like someone hit by lightning, anger struck me. I sobered up completely within a matter of seconds. Before I could think, I took three long steps
across the room, grabbed the ceramic lamp off the night table, and smashed it as hard as I could into Omar’s head. The lamp shattered as Omar rolled off Keisha, screaming in pain.
I turned my attention to Keisha, and for a moment, time stopped. It was like our entire relationship flashed before my eyes. I saw our first date, our first kiss, the first time we made love, the prom, our apartment, the day I proposed, the last time we made love, the rehearsal dinner earlier tonight, and now her lying in front of me. I don’t know how my eyes must have looked, but Keisha began pleading, “Don’t get crazy, Darnel. This is not what it seems.”
I couldn’t help myself. I slapped the shit outta her. “It’s not? ’Cause it sure as hell seems like you fuckin’ my best friend.” I slapped her again, then turned to Omar.
“I’m sorry, man,” Omar whimpered.
I looked down at his dick, and rage filled my entire being. “Motherfucker, you ain’t even wearing a condom!”
I lunged at him and started whaling on his ass. I beat him fiercely, kicking him in the face and trying to stomp his fucking guts out.
“I thought you was my boy,” I kept repeating with every punch I delivered. My blows fell into some kind of rhythmic pattern: Fist, fist, kick, kick. Fist, fist, kick, kick. “I thought you was my dog, and you gon’ do me like this? Fuck my girl without a condom? I ain’t even fucked her without a condom. Oh, hell naw. I’ma kill you!”
Omar never returned any blows. I guess he knew he was wrong, or else he was just too hurt to muster a defense. He covered his head the best he could, but I was relentless in my fury.
I could feel Keisha trying to pull me off. “Stop, Darnel! You’re going to kill him!”
“Bitch! Get the fuck off, you fuckin’ ho!” I was so full of adrenaline that I threw her across the room with barely any effort. Then I returned to Omar.
I couldn’t stop beating O until I got all my venom out. I’ve never known such pure hate. And pain. Yes, I was in just as much pain as I’m sure Omar was. I wanted him to feel my agony, to know that what he did had crossed the boundaries of human decency. It reminded me of when I was a little boy and my mom would whoop me and say, “This hurts me just as much as it hurts you.”
I saw Omar’s nose gushing bright red blood, and his eyes were blackened and swollen. He was bleeding from his mouth. I think he was trying to say, “I’m sorry,” but I didn’t care. I already knew he was sorry. He was a sorry excuse for a friend and a man; that’s what he was.
Keisha must have called security, because two men in blue uniforms came out of nowhere and pulled me off Omar. It took both of them to get me loose from him.
Finally, I relented and stopped kicking his ass. “Let me go. I’m cool.”
Jamie
3
I slammed my foot on the brakes, cursing under my breath when I spotted his Lexus parked in the driveway. Behind it was one of those compact cars that car-rental companies have hundreds of. I had a good idea who had parked it there too.
I ’d been calling his ass for the better part of two hours, both on his house phone and cell phone, but got no answer at either. Whenever that happened, it was pretty much guaranteed that he was with some woman. And now that I saw the cars in the driveway, I knew that they were in there, in his bed.
He is so fucking predictable.
I sighed and reached into the glove compartment for the set of keys to his house. I ’d made them last month when he let me borrow his Lexus while my car was in the shop. I ’d had my own set when I was living with him, but when I moved out a few months ago, he changed the locks so I wouldn’t catch him in the act with one of his whores. I’m sure he thought he was being smart by taking my keys, but I guess he forgot: Smarter was my middle name.
Keys in hand, I got out of the car and headed up the walkway, checking the rear bumper of the car parked behind his for a rental-car sticker. Of course, you know there was a black-and-yellow Hertz sticker there, just as I suspected.
I was pissed. No, I was more than pissed. As much as I loved him, I just couldn’t understand why he always had to sleep with her when she came to town. It was just so damn disrespectful. Not to mention the fact that she was such a damn slut for doing it. I mean, he was a man; men do this type of thing because they’re dogs. But she was a woman. Didn’t she have any shame? She was married, for Christ’s sake!
I opened the door, then walked into the living room. Not much had changed since I had been there two nights ago. On the coffee table, however, were two empty champagne glasses and an open bottle of Cristal, which I assumed came from the liquor he kept down in the basement. That stash was supposed to be for special occasions. I guess getting some ass from her was considered a special occasion—never mind the fact that they’d probably done it a million times before. Well, no matter, because it was a special occasion I was gonna break up.
I picked up the bottle of Cristal and selected the glass that didn’t have any lipstick marks on it. I poured myself some champagne. As I sipped, savoring the way the bubbles felt on my tongue, I contemplated whether I should act ghetto or ladylike when I confronted him. I could very easily run up the stairs and bum-rush his bedroom like a maniac, yelling and screaming like a fool. Or I could act like a lady and just holler up the stairs. That way they could get their shit together and come down so we could handle our business like adults.
I weighed my options for a few seconds, then came to a final conclusion: Fuck that! It was five o’clock in the morning, way too late to be a lady about any-damn-thing. I was going upstairs.
I finished my champagne with one gulp and headed for the stairs. When I got to his bedroom door, I could barely contain my anger at hearing the two of them rustling around on the bed. It sounded like I was about to catch them right in the act. As angry as it made me, I had to give him some credit. For a man his age, he sure had some stamina. I knew damn well they had been screwing all night long and were expecting to keep it going, but that wasn’t about to happen.
I chuckled, wondering how long he would be able to keep it up once I entered the room. Well, I was about to find out. I took a deep breath, then reached for the doorknob. I threw open the door, stepped in, and flipped on the light.
There they were, doing exactly what I thought they’d be doing. She was on top but quickly retreated under the covers.
He, on the other hand, yelled at me and sat up. I knew he was angry, but I didn’t give a damn at this point. Just the sight of her had angered me so much that I ’d momentarily forgotten why I was there.
I walked toward the bed with a purpose, pointing my finger at her. “I knew you was here with her!”
His forehead creased and his jaw tightened as he glared at me like he was trying to burn a hole right through me. I ’d seen this look from him before, and it was usually followed by an angry tirade.
“Jamie!” he yelled. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”
I froze right where I was standing. For the first time since I entered his house, I had serious second thoughts about how smart it had been to bust into his room.
“Ah … ah … Daddy, you wouldn’t answer your phone,” I stammered, “and …”
“And what?” he demanded.
I stared at my father, suddenly dumbstruck. I hadn’t seen him this mad in years. Here I was, twenty-five years old, and I felt like I was sixteen going on twelve. Why the hell hadn’t I just hollered up those stairs, or at least knocked on the bedroom door?
I glanced over at Crystal, my half brother Darnel’s mother, who was now sitting up with a sheet wrapped around her upper body. This was all her fault. If that wench could keep her panties on, my father would have answered his phone and I wouldn’t be in this predicament. What the hell did Daddy see in her anyway? Damn, I hated that wench.
“Don’t look at her! She’s got nothing to do with this, dammit. Now, what the hell are you doing here?” He actually seemed to be getting angrier.
I turned back to him, avoiding eye contact. Then, suddenl
y, my brain started working properly, and I remembered why I had come here in the first place.
“Darnel,” I said, breaking my silence.
This time Crystal jumped in. “Darnel? What about him? Is he all right? There wasn’t an accident, was there? Where’s my baby now? He’s not in the hospital, is he? Is he all right? He’s not dead, is he?” She was talking so fast and asking so many questions that I could barely understand a word she was saying.
When I didn’t answer quickly enough, she stood up from the bed and approached me, naked. “Where the hell is my son?”
My father stopped her from getting too close. Good move on his part. He’d probably noticed the way my fingers curled into fists as soon as she came near me. “Crystal, calm down and let her talk,” he advised.
“I’m not gonna calm down. I wanna know what’s going on with my son.”
He glared at her and she became silent. Daddy’s eyes had a way of talking to you. “What’s going on with your brother, princess?” His voice had lost its edge, and the fact that he had called me by my pet name made me feel better.
“He’s been trying to call you two all night. Daddy … Darnel’s in jail.”
Darnel
4
“Sign here and here and here.” The corrections officer pointed to the places where he wanted my signature. I did as I was told, and then he handed me a brown paper bag that held my wallet, cell phone, keys, and court documents. He pointed toward a door at the other end of the corridor. “You wanna head down there.”
“Thanks,” I replied, then turned to walk toward the door.
“No problem, Black. And good luck to you. I think you can beat this case.” He sounded sincere, and I knew it was probably because he felt sorry for me. Everyone in the Queens courthouse building had heard my nightmarish story by now. Most of the corrections and court officers were going out of their way to look out for me, doing things like giving me an extra bologna-and-cheese sandwich and a second cup of the watered-down Kool-Aid they fed us as we waited to see the judge. One CO even brought me to his office so I could call my sister when I was unable to reach my parents.
