Full Figured

by Brenda Hampton

  Reggie held out his hand for mine. “Get up,” he said.

  I waved him off, and like always, I ignored him. He placed his hands in his pockets and jiggled his change.

  “You know you brought this on yourself, don’t you? For God’s sake, Dee, why must you always make everything about you? Your son was so damn happy about coming here to see you, and since when did you start making comments like a racist? I’m speaking to you as his father,” his voice rose. “Don’t you ever treat my son like that again! If your beef remains with us,” he pounded his chest. “Take your shit out on me! I can take it. Latrel can’t. Now, he’ll be at my place until Monday. Get yourself together and figure out how you’re going to make this right.”

  As quickly as they came, they went. I had a headache out of this world, and after I cleaned up my kitchen, I took some Advil and went to my room to lie down. My thoughts of Latrel were killing me and my body felt as if somebody was sticking me with the tip of a sharp knife. I had always been the kind of person who reacted to matters too quickly. No, I wasn’t enthused about Latrel being with a white girl, but maybe it was just me. Lately, I’d had hang-ups about everything, but something inside felt as if he was doing it because of me. He didn’t want a woman who looked like his mother, nor did he appreciate all that I had done for him. He was moving in another direction, and as long as a woman didn’t look like me, he was all good. I hated that about my son, and for him not to consider my feelings was gut-wrenching.

  I was passed out until the loud ringing of the phone awakened me. My tired eyes were barely opened, but I managed to reach over and grab the phone.

  “Hello,” I said in a raspy tone.

  “Girl, get your butt up,” Monica yelled. I could hear her fingers snapping. “Have you made up your mind yet?”

  I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes. “Made up my mind about what?”

  “About doing the stanky leg.”

  “Uh, no. No, I’m not going to no nightclub.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m still tired and I want to go back to bed.”

  “It is eight o’clock on a Saturday night. Who in their right mind is at home in bed?”

  “Me.”

  “Well, not for long. I’m on my way to pick you up and you’d better be ready.”

  Monica hung up and I dropped the phone on the floor. I buried my face in the pillow, screaming loudly. I wasn’t up to doing anything, but I knew how persistent Monica could be. She was definitely going to show up and it was in my best interests to be ready.

  I showered and searched my walk-in closet for something to wear. It had been years since I’d been out to a nightclub and I couldn’t decide on a black strapless minidress or my Jones of New York baby-blue pantsuit. I sorted through my accessories and when I came across my black and silver dangling necklace and silver bangles for my wrist, I decided on the mini. I slid it down over my hips and turned in the mirror to observe myself. My backside looked perfect, but my tiny love handles made my waistline look pudgy. I had a quick solution for that and found my corset that gave my waistline a slimming fit. Awesome, I thought, reaching for my Nine West black strapped heels with rhinestones. My feathery long hair was never a problem and the bouncing body that it had made me look and feel like a million dollars. I touched up my M•A•C gloss and makeup, then stroked my already long lashes with thick mascara. I was simply gorgeous and knew it.

  The club scene had definitely changed since the last time I’d been. There were wall-to-wall people inside, some younger, but many who looked to be my age as well. It was a nice setting, though, and the music was a mixture of jazz, hip-hop, R&B, and even a bit of the blues. Monica and I lucked up on two bar stools that surrounded the huge square dance floor that was full to capacity. The disco balls were turning from up above and red, yellow, and blue lights spun on everyone. Monica sat next to me, snapping her fingers, while moving her hips in her seat. As usual, she looked nice. She was Vivica Fox all the way, and like me, for her, age was just a number. From being on the scene for so long, she definitely had rhythm, but had turned away several men who had already asked her to dance.

  “If you’re not going to dance,” I whispered, “then why sit there in your seat shaking yourself, leading these men on?”

  “Just because I get funky in my seat, it doesn’t mean I want to get jiggy on the floor. I’ll dance, just not right now.” She pushed my shoulder. “What about you? Are you going to dance or what? You’ve been the rejection queen all night and I can’t believe that margarita hasn’t loosened you up.”

  “I already told you I can’t dance and I’m not about to make a fool of myself. I will, however, have another drink because this one seems kind of weak.”

  Monica signaled for the bartender and ordered both of us another drink. This time she ordered me a cranberry cocktail and insisted on doubling up on the vodka.

  “I bet that’ll get your butt up and going,” she said.

  I wanted to enjoy myself, but my mind kept wandering back to Latrel and Reggie. I wondered what they were up to or if they were sitting around discussing me. I sat daydreaming for a minute, until my eyes came across someone intriguing. It couldn’t be, I thought. I squinted my eyes to be sure. Nah, he looks much too clean to be him.

  “Who you looking at?” Monica asked, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Nobody. I thought I saw someone I knew.”

  Monica’s eyes turned to where mine were and she zoned in at the three young men sitting at a table. “That is one fine, hunk of dark black-ass chocolate right there! He too young, but that brotha looks good.”

  “Which one?” I asked, pretending as if I didn’t notice.

  “The one with the gray tailor-made suit on and silk black shirt underneath.”

  “How in the heck do you know that brotha’s suit is tailor-made?”

  “Look at how it clings to his broad shoulders and arms. A man can’t just go in the store and find something that fits him like that, trust me.”

  I kept my eyes on the man, trying to see if he was actually Roc from the car wash. When he got up from the table, he smiled at the men he was speaking to and that was all the confirmation I needed. I knew what seeing those pearly whites and dimples had done to me at the car wash and that same feeling came over me again. Monica and I both kept our eyes glued to him.

  I played down my attraction. “I don’t care too much for that skinny leg suit he’s wearing. Latrel got one of those, but that’s because his daddy got it for him.”

  “It’s the style, Desa Rae, and that brotha has got the game and gone with it. Look at all the women checking him out. He like all that attention too. When he comes this way, ignore him. I don’t want him to think he’s all that, even though he definitely is.”

  We laughed and I watched as Roc made his way through the crowd. The bartender came just in time with our drinks, and with him standing in front of me, it was easier to pretend as if I didn’t see Roc. Right after the bartender sat our drinks in front of us, Roc stepped forward and approached the bartender.

  “Are you takin’ good care of these two ladies?” he asked. I was floored. It was as if his entire demeanor had changed. His voice appeared more mature and the suit looked even better close up.

  “I’m doing my best,” the bartender replied.

  “Good. Their drinks are on the house. Make sure they well taken care of.”

  Monica was grinning from ear to ear. Roc had to have had a twin.

  “Thanks, but do we know you?” Monica asked.

  “I don’t think I ever met you before,” he turned to me. “But I definitely met her.”

  “Roc?” I said, still a bit unsure.

  He winked. “In the flesh.” He looked at the dance floor. “Do you wanna dance?”

  Monica quickly reached for my glass, taking it from my hand. “Yes, she would love to dance.”

  “Uh, no thank—”

  I could barely get the word no out of my mouth before Roc took m
y hand and escorted me to the dance floor. Jay-Z’s latest hit was playing and some of the female dancers were trying to drop it like Beyoncé. There wasn’t a bone in my body that allowed me to move like her, so I did the norm and snapped my fingers while moving side to side. Roc, however, was all into it. He had his arms in the air, snapping his fingers. His suit jacket was open and his black silk shirt was hugging every single muscle in his chest. The lower part of his body was in motion and the women couldn’t stop looking in our direction. I was so embarrassed that I didn’t know how to work it like he was. All I kept thinking was . . . God, this young man was sexy and it had to be a sin to create someone as well put together as him.

  Roc displayed his award-winning smile and turned around so I could check out his backside. I visualized my hands gripping his tight black ass and when I looked over at Monica, she was encouraging me to move closer to him.

  What? I mouthed from the dance floor.

  She rolled her eyes to the back of her head, gritting her teeth. Move closer, she mouthed back. I shook my head from side to side and she waved me off.

  As soon as the song was over, I touched Roc’s chest and told him I was done.

  “So soon,” he asked. “I can’t believe you got me kickin’ up a sweat again and gon’ leave me hangin’.”

  I pointed to my shoes. “My feet are killing me,” I lied, sparing myself the embarrassment of dancing through another song.

  “A’ight,” he said, taking my hand. I was shocked, and when he rubbed the inside of my hand with his finger, I pulled away.

  “Thanks for the dance,” I said, taking my seat next to Monica.

  “Promise me another dance before you leave, a’ight?”

  “Sure.”

  Roc walked away and Monica looked at me with a stunned look. “You really can’t dance, can you? You had all of that man in front of you, and didn’t have a clue what to do with him.”

  We laughed and I sipped from my glass. “I told you I couldn’t dance. And if you expect for me to do all of those dance moves the women up there are doing, you’re crazy.”

  “I didn’t expect for you to do all that, but damn! Girl, you need to take some dance lessons. Forgive me for shoving your butt up there like that, but I at least hoped you would take advantage of him and get your feel on.”

  “I didn’t want to come off as desperate. Besides, was my dancing really that bad?” I humped my shoulders and snapped my fingers. “I was kind of . . . you know, getting down a little bit, wasn’t I?”

  Monica held her two fingers close. “Just a tiny bit. Unfortunately, not enough to make that brotha remember a darn thing about you.”

  “I don’t want him to remember me. A few days ago, I saw him at a car wash and he was trying to push up on me then. He’s twenty-four years old, works at a car wash, and there’s nothing a man like that can do for me.”

  “I beg to differ. There are plenty of things he can do for you.”

  I defensively crossed my arms. “Like what?”

  Monica placed her hand on her chest. “You’re my best friend, and even I can’t muster up enough courage in my heart to tell you what I would do with a man that fine, sexy, energized, and interested.” She placed her finger on the side of my temple and lightly pushed my head. “Use your brain, Desa Rae. Live a little and don’t let life pass you by.”

  I knew Monica was right, and she had no idea how quickly my brain had been working. In my mind, I’d experienced many heated encounters with Roc, but wasn’t sure if I was ready to make it a reality. The thought of him being an immature twenty-four-year-old was a struggle for me. What could being with a man like him do for a woman like me? The only thing he would be good for was sex, and since I was so darn horny, maybe that wasn’t a bad thing at all.

  One o’clock in the morning had come too quickly. Monica and I were having a wonderful time and neither of us could stay off the dance floor. The alcohol I’d consumed had my whole body feeling as if heat was running through my blood. My neck had beads of sweat on it and my vision was starting to blur. Neither of us were capable of driving home and we knew it. Therefore, when Roc came over and offered us a ride home, I couldn’t decline his offer.

  “What about my car?” Monica slurred while slowly getting into the backseat of Roc’s SUV.

  “You can come back to it in the mornin’,” Roc suggested.

  I wasn’t as wasted as Monica, but at our age we knew better. I got in on the passenger’s side and Roc closed the door behind me.

  “Where do you live? And will it be okay if I drop off both of y’all at the same place? I have somewhere else I need to be.”

  I was grateful that Roc was even taking us home, so his comment about having somewhere else to be didn’t bother me. With all of the women in his face tonight, I was sure he had plenty of choices. I gave him directions to my house and he used his GPS to direct him there.

  “Did you have a nice time?” he asked while driving.

  “Wonderful time,” I said, staring out of the window.

  “I could tell. I mean, you were out there shakin’ yo’ ass and everythang. I saw you and I noticed you picked up some numbers too. Too bad you can’t dance, though, but you were damn sho’ good to look at.”

  I turned toward Roc and smiled. “You weren’t no Usher, you know. Until you can dance like him, don’t go criticizing the way I dance.”

  “I ain’t tryin’ to be Usher. I’m me and I wouldn’t trade me for the world.”

  “Strangers in the niiiight,” Monica sung out from the backseat. She deepened her voice and made it baritone like Frank Sinatra’s.

  Roc and I both laughed. “What the fuck?” he said. “She really needs to get home and sleep off that madness.”

  I looked at the backseat, and just that fast, Monica was out. When I turned, I noticed Roc’s sneaky eyes checking out my thighs that were clearly visible from the minidress I wore. I didn’t say a word, but he knew he was busted. He reached for the knob on his stereo, turning up the music. As he rapped some lyrics, he nodded and tapped his fingertips on the steering wheel.

  “That’s the shit right there,” he said.

  No doubt, the loud music annoyed me. “Who is that?”

  “You don’t know who that is?”

  “No.”

  “Young Jeezy.”

  “Oh, okay. But do you mind turning that down just a little bit?”

  He lowered the volume and continued to look back and forth at me while nodding his head.

  “You know what,” he said. “You ain’t gon’ believe me when I tell you this, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I been thinkin’ ’bout you. Just last night I said, damn, I sholl hope I see that Halle Berry look-alike again. I could’ve kicked myself in the ass for lettin’ you get away without givin’ me yo’ sevens.”

  “It’s Desa Rae, not Halle. And you didn’t let me do anything. I chose not to give you my number because you’re too young and I prefer not to date men who work at car washes. Bottom line, I don’t give my sevens to men I’m not interested in.”

  Roc stopped at the red light and gave me a stern stare. “I don’t work at the car wash. I was just helping out my uncle who owns the place. Same goes for the club you were just at, he owns that place too. Let me give you a lil’ advice . . . I suggest you not judge a book by its cover and lighten up a lil’ bit. And if you weren’t interested before, are you interested now?”

  “Are you still twenty-four years old?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, no, I’m not interested.”

  He forcefully put his foot on the accelerator and sped off. It was obvious that Roc wasn’t used to rejection. When we got to my house, he had to carry Monica inside and lay her on the couch. I immediately rushed in the bathroom to use it, and when I came out, Roc was waiting for me by the front door.

  “You don’t know how much I appreciate this,” I said, rubbing my forehead to soothe my headache.

  “No p
roblem. But if you appreciate me as much as you say you do, then you’d give me yo’ sevens so I can call you.”

  My head was banging and I really didn’t have time to stand at the door with Roc and deny him. In an effort to get him out of my hair, I reached for my purse so I could give him my business card. I wrote my sevens on the back and gave the card to him.

  “Here, and please don’t overuse my number. Don’t be surprised if you start feeling as if you’re wasting your time and I’ve told you once already that I’m too old for you.”

  Roc pulled his suit jacket back, resting his backside against the door. He slid his hands into his pockets, along with my card. “Prove it,” he said. “Show me right now that you forty years old. If you are, I’ll give yo’ card back and you’ll never see me again.”

  I reached in my purse for my driver’s license and gave it to him. He looked it over, then gave it back to me. “Bullshit. That’s a fake ID.”

  I smiled and shook my head at how cute and persistent he was. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to go get my birth certificate for you, but I do want my card back because we had an agreement.”

  He winked and reached in his pocket for my card. “My word, my bond,” he said, giving the card back to me. He turned to the door and I unlocked it for him. No sooner than I could turn the knob, Roc eased his arm around my waist and pulled me close to him. He put my body right between his legs and moved his hips around, making sure I felt how excited he was down below. Our eyes stared at each other’s hungry lips and his tongue went for the kill. His lips were soft like butter against mine and our tongues intertwined for at least a full minute. Like in my previous thoughts, I rubbed his neatly lined waves and allowed his hands to roam up my minidress to massage my ass. You know better, I kept telling myself. But then again, I told myself to shut the hell up! Live a little, Desa Rae. Take this brotha to your bedroom and let him fuck away your misery. He’s capable of doing it and to hell with Reggie. Reggie who? Don’t you feel how hard his dick is? Reggie’s dick never felt that big. Get it, girl. Go get that dick in you right now!