Take Her Man

by Grace Octavia

  She’d let Tasha off easy, but she hadn’t stopped before saying, “You can’t bring another life into this world until you’ve made amends with the life you already have.” Tasha immediately shot a look across the table at me as if I’d revealed her secret, but I hadn’t told my mother anything about the baby. Mary Elizabeth was just talking. But that was the amazing thing about mothers. They always knew just what to say to either piss you off or put you right back on track.

  “I had a great time tonight,” Tasha said solemnly as she got out of the car at my apartment.

  “You don’t have to lie. She gets on my damn nerves, too.”

  “No, really. I did. Your mother is something.” Tasha kissed me on the cheek. “I’m going to head home now,” she said. “I have to talk to my husband.”

  I smiled at my friend as she walked away. She seemed to have grown in some way since she’d arrived at my apartment that morning all nervous about her appointment. Earlier her pink dress had made her seem like a little girl, but with the sun setting behind us, the fabric appeared a soft crimson and Tasha seemed to be walking stronger and taller.

  The elevator was broken, so I had to trudge up ten flights of stairs to reach my floor—a common tragedy in New York apartment buildings. I was about to faint when I reached the top step. Sweat was pouring all over me and I could feel my hair frizzing up. It was time to call Piero again. “Guess I won’t need to do my thirty on the StairMaster tonight,” I said, opening the door to my floor.

  I looked down the hallway toward my apartment and saw Julian standing in front of the door. I had to catch my breath. What the hell is he doing here? I looked a complete stir-fry mess after climbing the stairs. I wanted to turn around and go back downstairs.

  “Troy,” he called down the hall just as I was about to pull out my compact to get a quick look at myself. “What are you doing, taking the stairs?”

  “Broken,” I said, out of breath. “You didn’t see that the elevator’s broken?”

  “I guess it broke while I was up here. I’ve been standing here for, like, thirty minutes.”

  “Yeah, I’m thinking about getting a chair out here for all of my unexpected company,” I said sarcastically. “Been having a lot of surprise guests lately.”

  “Well, I’ve come with treats.” He dangled a brown shopping bag in front of me.

  “Treats?”

  “Yeah, I was at the store and I saw these organic doggie treats Pookie likes, so I picked them up.”

  “You came all the way over here to give me dog treats?”

  “He really likes them.” He smiled and handed me the bag.

  “Whatever,” I said, walking into the apartment with him behind me.

  “So what’s really going on?” I asked. I dropped the bag on the kitchen counter and led him into the living room.

  “Like I said on the phone, we need to talk,” Julian said, picking up Pookie Po.

  “About what?”

  “Remember when I asked you if you were seeing someone else?”

  “Yes,” I replied uneasily, sitting on the couch beside him. Tasha was right. Men are either black or white. He was about to come clean about Miata. Julian was about to tell me he loved her. I was about to catch a case! I could already see the headline on the morning paper: WOMAN KILLS MAN IN APARTMENT FOR LOVE. I wondered if they’d let me keep Pookie Po in prison. I could buy her one of those striped doggy outfits.

  “Well, it was because I’m seeing someone else,” Julian said. Oh, Lord, help me now. Help me not to choke this man.

  “Really?” I asked, trying to keep my cool. I couldn’t remember what the next step of the Take Her Man Plan was, but I was sure it wasn’t murder. Was it? “Who?” I asked.

  Julian put Pookie down.

  “That’s not important,” he mumbled. He paused and looked back up at me. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but things have been happening lately. I didn’t like lying to you. That’s why I had to break things off.”

  I felt tears creeping down my cheeks. It was breaking—my heart was breaking again. Though I’d already seen Julian in the restaurant with Miata, it was like watching a movie or something. Now, looking at Julian sitting next to me on the couch, I knew it was real life. It was my real-life love and it was getting sadder by the second.

  “Don’t cry, baby.”

  “Don’t fucking call me baby,” I hollered. “I’m not your fucking baby. Just tell me now. Why? Why Miata?”

  “Miata? How do you know it’s Miata?”

  “I just know, Julian. Stop playing games with me. Just tell me why you had to cheat on me with her. Why?”

  “I don’t know, Troy.” Julian looked at me. “She’s just different. She doesn’t need me like you do. She’s a fighter—like my mother, you know?”

  “Need you? News flash, Negro! I don’t need you for shit,” I cried. “And you don’t think I’m a fighter?” I jumped up from the couch, leaving him there alone. “You want to find out now?”

  “Troy, stop it. It’s not about who’s a fighter and who’s not. I think I just got confused. That’s all.”

  “Confused?”

  “See, that’s just it, Troy. Before, I thought my mind was made up. I mean, Miata’s not like any woman I’ve ever known. All of the crap we live with—the ‘who’s this’ and ‘who’s that’—it just doesn’t mean anything to her. She’s not from that. She just does everything for herself. And she’s not afraid to take what she wants. That just caught me off-guard.”

  “Julian, I really don’t want to hear about that bitch right now, so you can just stop.”

  “Listen to me,” he said. “But after seeing you the other night, I realized that I still have feelings for you,” Julian said, wrapping his arms around my waist. He pressed his head against my stomach. “I just wanted to see if you still loved me.”

  “How could you ask me some bullshit like that right now, Julian?”

  Julian looked up at me. His eyes turned red and he closed them. A tear rolled down his cheek. It was the first time I’d ever seen him cry.

  “Julian, stop crying.” I took a deep breath and put my hand on his head. “Julian, stop it.”

  “I fucked this up. I really fucked it up. I’m sorry.”

  Julian stood up in front of me, with tears still rolling down his cheeks. He kissed my lips so softly, my body felt paralyzed. I could feel the blood pulsating through my heart.

  “I love you,” he said, pulling me into his arms. “I love you.”

  By the time the waitress brought our food to the table, Tamia, Tasha, and I were already feeling all right. It was our favorite weekend brunch at the Shark Bar and we had already enjoyed one round of mimosas.

  Tamia had called me and Tasha that morning begging us to meet her for brunch because she had good news. I was tired, after staying up all night studying for finals, but I was glad to meet my girls for some straight talk. A week had passed and I still hadn’t told anyone about the run-in with Julian at my apartment. So I guess I had a little news of my own, too. Plus, I needed to get out of the apartment. My marathon study sessions, where I locked myself in the apartment with nothing but textbooks and enough food to eat for a week, were driving me crazy. I think Pookie was about to run away if I didn’t give her some time alone.

  “Okay, okay, I have news, ladies,” I said anxiously when the waitress put my food down in front of me.

  “What is it?” Tasha asked.

  “No, me first,” Tamia interrupted me. “I want to go first,” she whined, practically oozing out of her seat.

  “Damn, girl.” Tasha rolled her eyes playfully. “If it’s that serious, you need to go on and let it out. You look like you’re about to lose your water.”

  “Okay, okay. So, remember how I was working on the Olympia v. the State of California verdict?” Tamia asked, watching me plow through a serving of macaroni and cheese I had no business eating. The StairMaster hadn’t seen me in days.

  “Yes,” I murmured through bites.
There’s something about pasta and sharp cheddar cheese that’s magical. I have yet to meet anyone who didn’t like the match in a dish—unless it wasn’t made the old-school way.

  “Just to fill you in a bit, Tasha,” Tamia said, taking my attention back from my plate. “One of our professors, Professor Banks, was a defense attorney in Los Angeles before moving to New York to teach. Her last case in L.A. was defending a white man who was accused of killing his black wife. Somehow, because of some questionable witnesses who didn’t even see the murder, Professor Banks lost the case. It was the only case she ever lost.”

  “Okay. So where do you come in?” Tasha asked, sipping on her mimosa.

  “Well, when I heard about the case, I decided to do some research to see if there were any loopholes—some things that didn’t match up,” Tamia said. She was beaming. I remembered when she’d found a few articles on the case online. She couldn’t believe Professor Banks had actually lost a case.

  “I’m surprised your professor would let you do that,” Tasha said.

  “It was ambitious, but Professor Banks gave her approval. She allowed me to look over all of her case files and do an interview with Mr. Olympia over the phone. Anyway, to make a long story short, last week I found two concrete fallacies in two of the witnesses’ statements against the husband…” Tamia paused like she was about to pull a rabbit from underneath her skirt.

  “And…” I said, chewing myself into another dress size.

  “And on account of all of that,” Tamia went on, “Professor Banks is trying to reopen the case.”

  “Oh my God,” I said. “That’s great.”

  “That’s not it.” Tamia grinned happily. “If everything works out, she wants me to go to Los Angeles with her for the rest of the summer to assist her.”

  “Yes!” I said a bit too loudly for the Shark Bar brunch crowd. I stood up and hugged Tamia. This was a great opportunity for her—to work right beside Professor Banks. I’d never heard of Professor Banks working with any of the students, let alone allowing them to assist her.

  “Go ’head, girl,” Tasha said, winking at Tamia.

  “Go, Tamia. It’s your birthday. Go, Tamia. It’s your birthday,” Tasha and I sang as Tamia did the whomp in her seat.

  “Okay, I’m next,” I said, giggling. “Julian and I spoke last week.”

  “And…” Tamia said, mocking my retort earlier.

  “Black or white?” Tasha asked.

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged my shoulders.

  “What?” Tamia looked at me quizzically.

  “What happened?” Tasha asked dryly.

  “He showed up at my apartment and told me all about Miata and said he loved me and then he just left.”

  “He admitted that stuff about Miata?” Tamia asked. “Hell, no. This is some craziness.” She gulped down the last of her mimosa.

  “No, Tamia,” Tasha cut in. “At least he’s telling the truth right now. That’s what you want, Troy. He’s not lying to you—which is worse. Give him some credit for that.” She sat up in her seat. “It means Miata’s wicked, geechie spell over him is breaking like a fever.”

  “Whatever,” Tamia said. “The real question is, do you believe his black ass? Because you know a brother is prone to telling big lies in situations like this. Especially if he got wind of the run-in you and Miata had.”

  “True,” Tasha said. “Did you run the lie test on him? Check for the twenty-one signs of shammery?”

  “Yes,” I said, laughing. It was a list we’d put together of the signs that meant a man was lying. “And the only one he fell short on was number nineteen.”

  “Too much information being given for no reason,” Tamia said.

  “If I had a dollar for every time a man gave his lie away with that one,” Tasha added, “I’d be Ivana Trump.” She gave Tamia five and we all started laughing. Tasha was correct. Most men fell into at least three of the points on our guy lie list: If he wasn’t stuttering, he was trying to divert the blame or cry.

  “Damn, y’all, he cried.” I remembered number twenty-seven.

  Tamia laughed. “That’s a good one. It usually makes you cry too—”

  “And forget the problem,” Tasha said, cutting her off. “Well, we’re clear that there may be some untruths in the mix, but the important question is…did you two have sex?”

  “No. He just left.”

  “Damn! This one is harder than I thought.” Tasha fell back in her seat like a mob boss. “Well, I guess it’s time to move on to step four: Make Him Jealous. Your Julian needs a little booster shot to remind him of what he’s missing. Yep, it’s time to pull out the big guns.” She cut her eyes mischievously. “And I have just the right man in mind.”

  “What? A man?” I nearly choked on my food. I’d completely forgotten that I was supposed to be finding a man to make Julian jealous. I already had Kyle as my mini-distraction—since he was a “friend”—but Julian had already met him and he knew Kyle was a preacher and a friend of my dad’s.

  “Yes. I have the perfect man.” Tasha bit into her croissant.

  “Who?” I asked. I never let Tasha set me up. Whenever she hooked me up, it was with one of Lionel’s teammates. And though Lionel was a jewel, they were all jerks. I remember one I went out with actually had five children by five different women! I was disgusted by the time the date was over. He kept trying to defend his situation, saying he had enough money to support all of his children. But when I asked him their ages at dinner, he could recall only three. It was all over for him by dessert.

  “Darious J,” Tasha said. Tamia and I looked at each other from across the table. Was she talking about “the” Darious J? The R&B singer who’d snagged two Grammys last year and looked like Ginuwine—without the S-curl? He was fine as hell. Hell, I’d be jealous of Julian if I saw them out together.

  “‘Put It Down on Me’?” Tamia asked, naming Darious’s latest song, which was playing twenty-four hours a day on the radio.

  “Yes. He’s going to be your date,” Tasha said, smiling at me.

  “How are you going to hook that up?” I felt like a little girl at a New Edition concert. I was almost giddy.

  “Darious and Lionel go way back. We had him over for dinner last night and I told him I had someone I wanted him to meet. He’s game.” Tasha continued to eat her food as if we were discussing movie plans.

  “Wait, let me get this straight: Darious J was at your house for dinner?” Tamia asked, grabbing Tasha’s fork before she could stuff another forkful of food into her mouth. “And you didn’t call me? I’m single, too. You know?”

  “You told him about me?” I asked.

  “Calm down, y’all. Darious is fine, but he ain’t all that.” Tasha played with her fork. “In person, he’s kind of average. A little short.”

  “I knew it,” Tamia said, shaking her head. “There’s no way one man could be that divine. It’s impossible.”

  “Anyway, he’s perfect for this plan,” Tasha went on. “When Julian sees Darious with you, he’ll drop to his knees and beg for you to come back to him. No man can handle the thought of Mr. ‘Put It Down on Me’ being all up in the bed with his lady.” Tasha and I toasted our mimosas. “When the time is right, I’ll set you guys up, and you’ll be on your way to the next step.”

  “Wow,” I said, going over my wardrobe in my head. What was I going to wear on my date with Darious J? I’m saying, I’m no groupie, and I’d never seriously date any singer, but there was something about how Darious danced in those videos that just wouldn’t quit. I wondered if he could move around like that in bed.

  “Okay, so everyone told their secrets,” Tasha said. “Now it’s time for my news.” She paused. “I really wanted to wait until things were final and all, but with all of this good news going around, I can’t hold it in anymore—”

  “Girl, spit it out,” I demanded.

  “I told Lionel everything last week, like you said, Troy. And we’re going to do it. We went to
the doctor together last week and we’re going to try. We’re going to have a baby.”

  “Ohhhh,” Tamia and I cooed. We gave Tasha kisses on both cheeks.

  “We have an appointment with the doctor next week,” Tasha added, clapping.

  “I’m not gonna cry. I’m not gonna cry,” Tamia cried, waving her hands. But it was too late. Happy tears were spilling out of our eyes.

  “I have a toast,” I said, raising my half-full mimosa. “To my girl and the flyest baby NYC will ever see! To Baby Prada!”

  “Baby Prada.”

  “Baby Prada.”

  We toasted, and Tasha finished her drink.

  “I guess that was my last one for a while,” she joked.

  “Hey, why don’t y’all come to L.A. with me next month so we can really celebrate all of this?” Tamia said.

  “L.A.?” I asked.

  “Yeah. We could use a trip together. And since I’ll be in L.A. working on my case, you guys can just come visit.”

  “I don’t know,” Tasha said. She rarely traveled to L.A. or anywhere on the West Coast unless Lionel had a game. “I’ll have to think about it.”

  “Come on, guys. Hot beaches, fine men, great clubs, and shopping—what’s not to love about L.A.?” Tamia said. “And don’t act like both of you couldn’t use a vacation.”

  I frowned. I hadn’t been away since my trip to Jamaica with Julian after New Year’s.

  “I’m down,” I said. I really didn’t have much planned for the summer. So far, I was interning at Manhattan Juvenile Court and helping the girls in my dance class at the settlement prepare for their fall pageant.

  “Hmm…” Tasha exhaled, pushing the last bit of food around on her plate. “I guess so. I guess I’ll go if you guys are down.”

  “Yeah!” Tamia gushed. “So it’s set. I’ll arrange everything and let y’all know. This is great.” Tamia could be so geeky at times. She looked like we were about to go to Disneyland. She’d probably try to fit that into the trip.