Zane's Nervous

by Zane

  Meredith seemed staggered. “Wow, we weren’t expecting that reaction. We assumed you would be upset.”

  “Upset about what?” I went closer to them with my arms wide open and they both stood so I could hug them. “I’m thrilled for the two of you. After all, what’s meant to be is meant to be.”

  “But we feel kind of guilty about leaving you here in Atlanta alone,” Meredith continued. “We were hoping you might consider moving also.”

  She had lost her fucking mind!

  “That’s impossible, Momma. I have a good job here, my place, and most importantly, Dr. Spencer.” I couldn’t believe those words had just left my mouth but I had to make it sound legitimate. “I’m also kind of seeing someone now and I want to find out where that can go.”

  Meredith and Henry both yelled out in unison, “Seeing someone?”

  Okay, Jude, I told myself. Make it look good!

  “Yes, his name is Mason and he’s one of my neighbors.”

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever met him,” Meredith said.

  “You’ve never met any of my neighbors, have you?” I asked, thinking back and trying to recall whether or not Jon had ever introduced her to any. “Besides, he hasn’t been living there that long.”

  “Is he a nice man?” Henry asked. “I don’t want you mixed up with some rascal.”

  “He’s not a rascal, Daddy. He’s extremely nice and really has it going on.”

  “Well, if he can afford an apartment in your building, he must be halfway decent,” Meredith commented.

  “He’s more than halfway decent,” I said. “He’s an incredible man.”

  Henry cleared his throat. “Does he know about, umm, does he know . . . ”

  “About my situation?” I asked.

  “Yes. Your situation.”

  I really didn’t want to respond to that. I was still trying to deal with the conversation Jon had with Mason in his car and him coming up to her place afterward. Not to mention all the other shit they had been doing together.

  “Well, does he know, Jonquinette?” Meredith inquired. “It’s okay, Precious, you can talk to us.”

  There she went with that damn Precious again!

  “Mason knows everything. He’s accepted it and plans to help me through this. So, you see, while it would be nice to have the two of you around, I can manage. I’m a grown woman, even though I act childish at times, and I have to start living my own life. I’ve got Mason now, and I can understand your logic behind moving to North Carolina. Flower needs both of her parents nearby during her upbringing and I’m sure her mother has no intention of moving to Atlanta.”

  Meredith seemed uncomfortable when I mentioned Flower’s mother. That was her stupidity because she knew that she didn’t birth her. Thank goodness because the poor child would have been doomed if she had.

  I knew what both of them were thinking, even though they weren’t talking about it. Jon had never had a boyfriend, not ever, and now all of a sudden she had one in her mid-twenties. Not to mention during such a tumultuous period in her life.

  I decided to elaborate. “It’s weird, finding a man that I mesh with after all these years. He took me completely by surprise. I met him in the hallway one day, the next week he stopped by with a pie, and it’s been a whirlwind romance ever since.” Meredith didn’t seem like she was quite buying it so I added, “Momma, that’s one reason why you haven’t heard from me too much lately. I’ve been seeing a lot of him. We even attended a wedding together.”

  That was a flat-out lie and if it were drama day for me instead of fishing expedition day, I would have really said, “He and I ended up at the same wedding and to make sure I had some ammunition to use later on, I fucked the best man.”

  I chuckled as they both stared at me. I wondered what their reaction would have been if I had really blurted that out.

  Flower came into the kitchen. “Are the cookies ready yet, Miss Meredith?”

  Meredith ran over to the stove like she was Flower’s nanny or some shit like that. “Yes, they are, sweetie. Why don’t you go wash your hands in the little girls’ room while I make you a plate of cookies and a glass of milk?”

  Flower pouted. “I want some of the tea Daddy made.”

  “Okay,” Meredith conceded. “But just one glass of tea. We wouldn’t want you to consume too much sugar. You’re a growing girl.”

  Flower looked at me and asked, “What does consume mean, Sis?”

  “It means eat, drink, take in,” I replied, irritated.

  Just when I was about to make a speedy exit, Meredith dropped a bombshell.

  “Um, Jonquinette, we were going to call you earlier to ask you for a favor.”

  “What favor?” I asked, hoping the Queen Bitch wasn’t going to ask me to do something ridiculous.

  “Henry and I have tickets for a play this afternoon at the Neighborhood Playhouse and we were wondering if you could watch Flower for us.”

  I glimpsed down at Flower, who grabbed my arm excitedly. “Yeah, Sis, can I hang out with you?”

  Henry said, “We’d really appreciate it, Jonquinette.”

  It became painfully clear that Meredith and Henry were caught up in their own little world and not thinking clearly. If Jonquinette were really Jonquinette at the moment, which she wasn’t, and agreed to watch Flower, what did they think would happen if Jude showed up and took over, which I already had. After all the negative things that had been said about me, why would they risk the possibility of me ending up baby-sitting Flower? Stupid asses!

  All three of them anxiously awaited my answer. I had planned to go find some dick action that afternoon to relieve some stress. Baby-sitting would definitely put a damper on my plans, but Jon would never think of telling them no so I had to suck it up and say, “Sure! I’d love to spend the afternoon with Flower!”

  Within thirty minutes, Meredith and Henry were glowing as they pranced out the apartment arm in arm. Jon still had a key to Meredith’s place and there was no way I was going to sit there and watch kiddie television all day.

  I took Flower to the park and hated every minute of it. A bunch of brats running around, full of hopes and dreams that their lives would be wonderful when they became adults. If they only knew the real deal. I wondered how many of them were the opposite and tried to pick out the ones that looked sad—the ones who looked like they were mistreated, abused, or just had issues to deal with period. Since it was too early for school to let out, most of them were five and under. I saw one little boy off by himself. He was sitting up underneath a slide as other kids took turns plummeting down it above his head. For the entire time we were there, he didn’t talk to another child or play with another child.

  His mother was sitting on a bench with a baby in a stroller. She barely paid him any attention. She would shove the pacifier back into the infant girl’s mouth whenever she cried and glimpse at the boy every ten minutes or so. The rest of the time she had her head buried in a novel. Someone could have snatched him easily and she wouldn’t have noticed until they were in a car five or six miles away. Damn shame.

  Flower was mighty talkative and I have to admit that she began to grow on me. After all, it wasn’t her fault that Henry had donated the sperm to create her. She was inquisitive, asking me about everything under the sun. She was good-humored and in high spirits and had good manners. I took her on the miniature train ride, let her ride the merry-go-round, and then we played two rounds of putt-putt. She beat me something terrible because Jon never played and I normally had better things to do, like fucking.

  After she was worn out from playing, I took her to Paschal’s to grab a bite to eat. We ordered fried chicken, collard greens, and creamy potato salad and threw down on all of it. I should have taken the opportunity to eat some red meat, since Jon refused to, but I couldn’t go to Paschal’s and not jump on the fried chicken.

  Flower opened up to me and talked a lot about her mother. Allison seemed like a decent human being so at least she had
one parent she could count on. Then Flower turned the tables on me and started asking a lot of questions about Jon’s childhood. I lied and said that it was the greatest and that Jon was popular and had tons of friends and all the boys were in love with her. What a crock of bullshit!

  When I got back to Meredith’s condo with Flower, they still were not back. I let Flower watch television while I snooped around. The Queen Bitch had enough sexy lingerie to clothe a whorehouse full of women. She had one sexy little red lace number that I just had to snag since the tag was still on it. I crammed it into Jon’s purse, already making some plans for later that night.

  They finally came back in about nine, which still gave me plenty of time to go searching for dick. The way they were all lovey-dovey made me sick and I couldn’t take it anymore. I planned to go out, fuck some fool, and then ponder over whether or not I would allow them to get back together or break that shit up again. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that I could put a stop to it, if I so desired.

  It was too damn easy to just pick up a man. No man was likely to turn down pussy if the woman looked halfway attractive. I wanted a challenge so I went to this gay club called The Milk Farm, which I took to mean that there were a lot of men up in there milking each other’s dicks. Shame on it all.

  When I first walked in, some of them might have assumed that I was a transvestite but upon closer inspection, you could see their chins practically hit the floor. I had always assumed that some women hang out at gay bars for whatever reason, but this one was all male except for me. They were grinding all up on each other, tonguing each other down, and my pussy was getting wetter by the second. True sex fiends get turned on by anything sexual, even two dogs humping.

  I hopped on a vacant barstool and waited for the bartender, a midget in a thong and leather hat who walked on top of the bar instead of behind it. He snarled at me and asked me what I wanted. I said, “A blow job just like everyone else in here.” I laughed at my joke but he didn’t like it. “Don’t front. I’m sure you know how to make it.”

  He teetered away to get my drink.

  The two men, or queens rather, that I was sitting between were hideous. I wouldn’t have fucked either one of them for bone marrow. I started scanning the club for other prospects. I realized that it would prove too difficult to pick out which ones were prospective fucks. The ones that went both ways. The ones who were married and in there on the downlow. That was the beauty of being me. Because I didn’t really exist, at least not on paper or as far as anyone was concerned, I could do whatever the hell I wanted, whenever the hell I wanted, and no one could touch me. Too many people hold back from doing the things they yearn to do. They are too busy worrying about what so-and-so might think. On the other hand, I didn’t give a fuck what people thought.

  That’s why there was no hesitation on my part to do what I did next. The midget finally came back with my drink. I did my little hands behind my back trick and gulped it down. Just then, the DJ put on “Fever” and it was on. I climbed up on the bar, started dancing to the music, and singing. Then I started stripping.

  Of course, the assholes were the initial ones to start yelling shit like, “You need to sit down, bitch!” “Get that slut off the bar! No one wants to see a whore stripping!” and “Did it suddenly get a little fishy in here!”

  I ignored them all. I was waiting for that one person who defended me because I knew he would be the one open to what I had in mind. Sure enough, right before the song ended, I heard someone yell out, “Leave her alone! Let the diva do her thing!”

  The strobe lights on the ceiling were irritating and I shielded my forehead with my hand so I could make out someone in the back. The only thing I could see was that he was extremely tall and dark-skinned. The song ended and no one applauded but one smart aleck said, “Great! Now get the hell out and go to a club where people like kitties!”

  I played it cool and sat back down at the bar. Within five minutes there was a tap on my shoulder and it was him. Men are so damn predictable. It turned out that Hugh, which I’m quite sure wasn’t his real name, was married with four kids and trying to find himself. He said that he had experimented with men in college and had never gotten his curiosity out of his system. I asked him did he take it up the ass or give it. He said give it and that was cool with me because I had no intention of fucking a man who would take one up the ass. I made sure he had a condom, invited him to step in the back into a bathroom stall, and then I let him experiment with a freak and give it to me up the ass. Poor Jon was going to wake up the next morning wondering what the hell!

  36

  jonquinette

  When I arrived in the parking garage at Marcella’s office building, it was difficult to find a space. There was a convention meeting at the hotel across the street so a lot of people had used Marcella’s building as an overflow parking area.

  I had to go all the way up to the sixth level and park on the roof. It was nippy, even for mid-October, and I went to search in my trunk for a jacket. I found one and was closing my trunk when I heard someone say from behind me, “Well, hello again.”

  I didn’t recognize the voice but when I turned, I was face to face with Zoe. “Hello.”

  “It’s nice to see you again,” she said. “And I’m glad we ran into each other here. I take it that means you decided to use the card that I gave you.”

  I smiled uneasily. “Yes, I did. Thanks for the recommendation.”

  “It’s not a problem.” She came closer and sat a shopping bag that she was carrying down on the ground. “I just finished up a session with Marcella.”

  I glanced at my watch. “And I’m next up to bat.” We both giggled. “Marcella really is wonderful and she’s helping me out tremendously.”

  “That’s good.” She offered me her hand. “We’ve never formally been introduced. I’m Zoe Reynard.”

  I shook her hand. “I already knew your name, from the meetings and all. I’m Jonquinette Pierce.”

  “Beautiful name.”

  “So is yours.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment and then Zoe said, “I’m not trying to get into your business but I feel like I have to say something.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Life throws us a lot of curveballs. We can run from them or we can catch them and throw them back.”

  “I never thought of it quite that way,” I said. “Curveballs, huh?”

  “I don’t know if you’ve ever heard me actually give a testimonial at a meeting, but to make a long story short, sex almost killed me: literally.”

  I lowered my eyes to the ground to avoid eye contact. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I fought back. I was determined not to give up my life that easily, even when everything seemed hopeless. Looking back on it, I can’t believe how many people were hurt, some even killed, because of my actions.”

  “Killed?” I asked in disbelief, looking back up at her to see if she was serious.

  “Yes, killed, because of my issues with sexuality.” She leaned on my trunk. “I used to blame myself. I just couldn’t deal with it.”

  “But you’re okay now?”

  “Most of the time. I won’t sugarcoat it. The memories will never go away, not ever. If I have to eventually pay for my sins, then so be it. I’ve come to terms with that. For now, though, I just intend to live life with my husband and kids. They give me all the love and encouragement that I need.”

  I didn’t want to be nosy but I felt like I just had to ask. “What caused you to be like that? Addicted to sex?”

  “Are you really addicted?” she came back at me.

  “My situation’s a little bit more complicated than that,” I responded. “I wouldn’t say that I’m addicted to sex. It’s more like someone else that I’m extremely close to is addicted to it or rather uses sex to prove a point.”

  Zoe seemed confused. “I won’t ask you to elaborate. To answer your question, there were some incidents dating back to my c
hildhood that triggered everything after that.”

  “Incidents?”

  “Yes, incidents that I had buried. We often bury things in our minds. The human body is a very intricate thing, an amazing thing, and sometimes we are things and have done things we can’t remember.”

  I laughed. “In my case, that’s definitely true.”

  “Did you have something happen in your childhood?” she asked me.

  “I had a ton of things happen in my childhood. I was bullied, tormented, teased, and treated like crap by all the other kids.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “I have two loving parents, but they had issues because of me. In fact, something I did made them divorce.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah, well, they are meeting me here today.” I thought about Daddy’s car being at my place overnight and added, “I’m hoping that there may be some chance for them to reconcile; even after all these years.”

  “If it’s in God’s plans, they will,” Zoe said, looking up at the sky.

  “So you’re religious?” I asked.

  “I didn’t used to be, at least not much, but I am now. My husband and I take our children to church every Sunday and pray together every night.”

  “That’s good.” I glimpsed at my watch again. “I really have to go before I’m late. I wish we could continue the conversation some other time.”

  Zoe took a business card out of her purse and handed it to me. “Call me.”

  I scanned the card. “You’re an arts dealer, huh?”

  “Yes, all African-American art.” She smiled and touched my hand. “Take care, Jonquinette, and if you ever need anything, just reach out to me. Marcella understands a lot and I’m sure she will help you get through this, but she’s never walked in our shoes.” She picked up her bag. “When you feel comfortable enough, I hope you will consider coming back to the meetings.” She eyed me uneasily. “You and your friend.”

  As Zoe walked off to get into her car and I walked to the bank of elevators, I wondered about her last comment. Had she figured me out that easily?