He nodded obediently and turned to Jazz who was standing in front of the microphone silently, looking at everyone.
Jazz cleared her throat to get everyone to focus their attention on her. “May I have your attention please; we’re about to begin, and out of respect for the artists, will everyone please keep down the background noise. If you must speak, please whisper softly. And if you have children, please keep them quiet or excuse yourself. Thank you.”
“Saundra, are you going to perform today?” I asked, hunching over to see her face.
“Nah, I haven’t written at all lately because it hasn’t been raining and that’s when I do my best work. Yero will be doing some stand-up comedy, though.”
“I didn’t know you were a comedian, Yero!” I laughed, trying to keep my voice down.
He shrugged modestly. “Not really. Sometimes me and Jazz do these little skits about stuff people can relate to, that’s about it; but art is my first love.”
“Yero made the sculpture that is next to the bathroom. We’ll go see it during the intermission,” Saundra said, smacking on some peanuts.
“I feel so ordinary amongst all of you artists,” I said.
“Oh, please, don’t even try it. The way you put together your clothes, what the hell do you think you are?” Saundra asked.
“Well, if that makes me an artist, then I’m fucking Picasso because I can dress my ass off!” I laughed.
Jazz interrupted what would have been one of my moments when she tapped the microphone, causing a screeching sound.
“Sorry . . . we’re really going to start now. Is everybody ready?” she asked, trying to get everyone pumped.
“Get on with it, “ a voice bellowed out, causing a sea of laughter.
Jazz stuck her tongue out at the guy and continued. “You all know him so he needs no real introduction. Here’s Derrick!” she yelled, pointing to her left and clapping as she went to sit down.
After clapping for a while, everyone got super quiet and I knew that he must be really deep or something because it takes a lot for Black folks to shut up. When he came from behind the curtain some people whistled. He was very attractive with a beautiful set of dimples that really got me going. He had on a nice ribbed cream-colored sweater and slacks of the same color and dark brown boots. Saundra’s description didn’t begin to capture his gorgeousness. After smiling and waving at the people he knew for a couple of seconds he finally pulled out a crumpled up piece of loose-leaf out of his pocket. Saundra turned around and snickered because she caught me with my mouth open as he cleared his throat to read a poem he called “Plants in the Sidewalk.” I ignored her childish display and listened closely to his soliloquy about truth springing up in places seemingly incapable of sustaining growth. Although I didn’t understand some of the terminology that other people strongly responded to, the detailed descriptions and his emotion moved me as he read. I saw Saundra wipe her eyes a couple of times and Yero’s even looked a little glassy. I noticed Kimiko and Lenny got romantic vibes from it because they were locked in a solid embrace.
As I watched Derrick leave the “stage” with a trail of tears and praise following him faithfully, I knew I was going to fuck him.
Chapter 29
SAUNDRA
Asha bugged me until I gave her Derrick’s phone number and that led to a major fight between me and Yero.
“My sister is going after Derrick.”
Yero chuckled. “Derrick could use a night with a hot piece like her. He is way too wrapped up in his work.”
We were sitting in my favorite Indian restaurant down in Greenwich Village. As I told Daddy, the plan was to have dinner there and then spend the night together at a nearby Howard Johnson’s motel just for a change of scenery. When I asked Daddy how he planned to spend his night off, he shrugged and said maybe he’d go see a movie with Evelyn.
I’d just stuffed a piece of naan into my mouth when Yero made his crude remark.
“Excuse me?” I asked politely.
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not criticizing Derrick or anything. He’s going to make it as a poet someday and there’s not a brother I can think of who deserves it more.”
“I’ve never heard you talk about any woman like that, Yero, and it doesn’t work for me. Especially since the woman is my sister.”
“You’re going to be my wife soon,” Yero replied. “I should be able to speak my mind.”
“Since when is your mind into denigrating women?”
Yero took my hand and massaged it. “Let’s not do this.”
But I couldn’t let it go. “I know you don’t like Asha but . . .”
“Asha doesn’t like Asha.”
“What?”
“I don’t have any feelings about your sister one way or the other. So, you’re wrong. I don’t dislike her. But if Asha liked herself, she wouldn’t be hitting the sheets with every man that crosses her path.”
“Do me a favor, Yero?”
“What?”
“Cut the dime-store psychology. You don’t know Asha at all.”
“I know that if Derrick liked black women, he could hit it within an hour of meeting her.”
That did it. I stood up and mushed him in the face with a large piece of naan. The hard Indian bread crumpled into his eyebrows and moustache.
Yero glared at me. I glared back.
“In the future, don’t ever put your hands on me. I’m serious, Saundra. Don’t ever hit me again.”
He was right. It was no way to start a marriage. “I’m sorry, baby.”
He grunted.
I reached forward to brush off the naan and he pushed my hand away. “Let’s go,” he said testily.
“But we haven’t had a meal yet,” I protested.
Yero narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know what your problem is today but if you want a husband, you’re playing the wrong game now.”
I’d had it with his attitude. “Is that a threat, Yero? Are you threatening not to marry me?”
“No . . . I’m just saying watch your hands.”
What game was he talking about? What did he mean . . . the wrong game? When was I ever playing ANY game? Did he think I was one of those pathetic women who played stupid games with stupid rules just to get an engagement ring placed on the third finger of their left hand? “Yero, I don’t care if I never get married at all—to you or anyone else.”
“Thanks a lot,” he replied bitterly.
He looked hurt and all of a sudden I wasn’t mad anymore; but he stood up and threw his napkin on the table before I could say the words that always worked magic between us.
“Saundra, I grew up watching my parents hit each other.”
If I had hugged and kissed him at that exact moment, maybe things would have turned out differently. We would have made it to the motel and the events that took place later that terrible night would not have happened. But I’d never heard this story about Yero’s parents before and that fact plus the anger in his voice just threw me off course.
So I just stood there saying nothing.
“I can’t believe that you physically attacked me, Saundra.”
“Yero, look . . .”
“You know what . . . I don’t feel in a motel mood anymore. Let’s just go.”
Yes, I was wrong to hit, but when he decided to end our evening, I got mad. “Fine, Yero!”
We didn’t speak to each other on the way home.
When he pulled up in front of my house, I jumped out of the car. As he drove off, I started to calm down. After all, the fight was my fault. Asha did behave like a hot piece and there was no point in me losing my man over her loose life. Should I call Yero right away or give him time to cool off? I’d ask Daddy. His car was in the driveway and Evelyn’s was not, so that meant he was alone.
I took the stairs two at a time.
His bedroom door was wide open and the light was on. I skidded to a stop in front of the door and froze.
“Don’t stop!” Hugo cried out
, gasping for breath. “Don’t come yet!”
“Move it, baby,” Daddy answered passionately as he rode Hugo’s naked white ass.
Hugo burrowed his face deeper into bedding and clutched a pillow with both hands. “Umm.”
Daddy saw me first.
My feet were rooted to the floor as my brain tried to process the scene before me.
“Saundra! Oh, Jesus! Saundra!” Daddy finally yelped.
The sound of his voice snapped me out of my trance. “What the fuck is going on here!” I screamed.
Hugo started pulling the bedding around them as Daddy just stared at me in shock.
The Indian bread rushed up from my stomach and seemed to lodge in my throat. I started to gag.
“Saundra! I can explain!”
In one huge gush, I threw up all over the floor. Then, screaming, I started walking backwards.
“Saundra, come back!” Daddy begged, “Where are you going?”
I turned and ran down the stairs and straight to my room without answering. I grabbed a shopping bag that was on the floor and hastily flung some clothes inside.
Daddy was standing at the bottom of the stairs when I came out. “Saundra, can we talk? I can explain everything.”
I raced past him, out the front door and ran across the lawn to our closest neighbor.
“Pastor Hoffman!” I screamed. “Pastor Hoffman!”
I was relieved when the elderly preacher opened his door. “Saundra, are you all right?” His eyes were wide with alarm.
“Can I come in and call a cab?”
He just stared at me and the shopping bag.
“Please?”
He peered past me, looking toward my house. “Has something happened to Detective Patterson? What is going on?”
“My father is fine. Can I come in?”
“Sure, honey.”
The door closed behind me. I had little to no time before Daddy came banging on that door. “I can’t stay at home tonight . . . please . . . it’s personal . . .”
Pastor Hoffman held up a hand. “I don’t like this Saundra. This ain’t like you at all. I’ll drive you wherever it is you’re going.”
Goddammit, I didn’t have time to argue with him. “I’m going to my sister’s house in Manhattan. Just call me a cab. I’ll be fine.”
“Where is your Daddy?”
Something inside me just snapped. “With all due respect, Pastor Hoffman, I am a grown woman. My father is at home and I’m leaving. Now, will you help me or not?”
We sat there in his living room in silence for almost ten minutes until the taxi arrived. I ran out the door and jumped in the backseat without taking the time to say a decent good-bye.
Daddy was heading towards the vehicle.
“Drive fast!” I yelled. “That man is trying to stop me from leaving!”
The driver burned rubber pulling away from the curb, leaving Daddy standing there frantically calling my name and waving his arms.
“Take me to Manhattan . . . Sixth Avenue and Fourteenth Street.” That one sentence took all the strength I had left. I curled up in a ball on the backseat and let the tears run down my face.
Chapter 30
ASHA
I got to work one morning and was surprised to find a Post-It note on my computer screen that said I should call Nick Seabrook right away.
I put my coat on the hook in the back of my office door and buzzed my assistant. “Kevin, could you come here for a moment?”
My short, red-haired assistant came in with a notepad in his hands. He is the most inefficient member of the buying office support staff, and the only reason I don’t fire him is because he has a B.A. from Harvard and an M.A. from Yale. It gives me a certain amount of pleasure that someone with so much education has to take orders from me.
“Good morning, Kevin. This morning is going to be hectic so call Nick Seabrook back and tell him to try me at home tonight. Then reschedule my appointment with Lew Weimann from Zippy Girl handbags. After that, you can start letting the sales reps in.”
I booted up my computer and started responding to some e-mails and was totally engrossed in the task when Kevin buzzed.
“Asha, Nick is on the phone” he said.
“Kevin, I told you that I can’t talk to him now.”
I answered another e-mail before he rang again. “Mr. Seabrook insists that you talk to him now. He says it will only take a minute.”
“Yeah, all right put him through.”
I waited for Nick’s high-pitched voice to say hello but all I heard was Biggie Smalls’s song “Hypnotize” blasting from his car radio.
When did Nick start listening to rap music?
“Hello?”
“Hey, girl!”
“What’s up, Nick, how are you?”
“Chillin’, chillin’, wassup wit you?”
“Why are you speaking that way?”
“What are you doing right now?”
“Since I don’t have two rich parents like you do, I’m working for a living.”
“No, but you have a rich boyfriend.”
Boyfriend? Both Nick and I were aware that we both dated other people. In fact, he had some lovelorn chick down in Houston. Boyfriend? For some reason, I liked the sound. Maybe because it was coming from him and not some other guy.
“True, you are pretty rich, Mr. Seabrook.”
“Aiiight.”
“Nick, that fake gangsta thug dialect sounds ridiculous. What are you up to?”
“I’m mentoring this teenaged brother down in Houston. It’s a program for young males at risk. This is the way he communicates with me. So I’m practicing.”
“Well, cut it out for right now.”
“Asha, baby! Loosen up.”
“I don’t want to hear that kind of talk. Besides, isn’t the point of him getting together with you to learn how to speak proper English?”
“No. That isn’t the point at all. Now, I need your cooperation, Miss Mitchell. I’m in the middle of a twenty-four hour experiment and I have twelve hours to go.”
“You’re going to talk like that for the next twelve hours?” Nick was such a spoiled rich brat. Only someone with a huge trust fund could afford to speak like a thug just for the fun of it.
“Then I feel sorry for Baby Girl.”
Baby Girl was the nickname of his Houston babe.
“You’re going to regret that statement in half a second.”
“Nick, I’m pretty busy. What do you have to tell me that couldn’t wait until tonight?”
“Well, Ms. Thang, I was callin’ to tell you that you will be blessed with my company soon.”
I tried to contain my excitement. “Last I heard, you were staying in Houston for another month.”
“Plans change, girl. I’m home. How about I hang out at your apartment till you get there?”
“Why?”
“Because my place is in an uproar. I’m having a wall taken out to make the living room bigger.”
“Yeah, all right, I’ll leave my keys with Kevin but make sure you don’t throw no gangsta parties while I’m at work.”
“Whatever. And tell that bitch-ass secretary of yours he betta know how to talk to me. I’m about two minutes off whoopin’ his carrot-top lookin’ ass.”
I decided to play along and talk like a round-the-way girl. Hmm, maybe we could do some kind of rap role play before hitting the sheets tonight. “Kevin looks like he might bust a cap in yo’ ass.”
“I’m too rich to fight. I’ll just pay another muthafucka to argue for me.”
He hadn’t been on the phone five minutes and I was already in stitches. “You are so crazy, Nick. I’ll catch you later.”
“There better be more than bologna and cheese in that muthafuckin’ kitchen.”
God he sounded stupid but I couldn’t suppress a giggle. No one can ever say that Nick is dull.
“You know I don’t cook. Why didn’t you bring some food from your mama’s restaurant?”
“All right; we’ll go get something different tonight when I get in.”
“Cool, just make sure you get home on time.”
“Yes, dear.”
“Hey, Asha . . .”
“Yeah?”
“I missed you, girl.”
“All right, Nick. I’ll see you tonight.”
I could hear the rap music blasting from my apartment. The bass line was so strong I could feel it vibrating in my chest. As soon as I walked through the door I found Nick dancing in the center of the living room in some funny-looking boxers with smiley faces on it. As angry as I was about the volume of the music, the image of him doing the Harlem shake half naked was hilarious.
“Nick!” I screamed.
He turned around and flashed that cute smile of his and turned the music down.
“Hey! I was just working off a big Whopper with cheese from Burger King. You look sooo good, girl; come here.”
I put down my bag and hugged him. His arms felt strong. “You been working out.”
Nick stood back and started flexing. “A little somethin’ but you know I’ve always been buff.”
I laughed because I once saw some pictures of Nick as a young teen. He used to be kind of puny. “Yeah, Bootney Farnsworth.”
As I took off my coat I noticed Nick sitting with his legs unusually far apart.
“What are you doing?” He had a big grin on his face as he began thrusting his pelvis into the air.
“You’re joking, right? I just got in the house.”
“Come on, Asha, I haven’t had sex since I last saw you and I’m in the mood.”
I laughed at him as he winded his hips seductively and patted the space next to him. “You a damn liar. What happened to Baby Girl?”
His face contorted in disgust. “Baby Girl?”
“Yes, Nick, the one you said you were going to marry.”
“Asha, you like two sevens stuck together.”
I crossed my arms and waited for the payoff. “What does that mean, Nick?”
“It means that you are a square! I ain’t say nuthin’ to you about marryin Baby Girl.”
“But you told me she was so fine you were gonna make her your wife.”
The Other Side Of the Game Page 12
