“Whatever Randy! Keep doing what you do best; use reverse psychology and try to avoiding the subject!” I said interrupting. He continued to talk and didn’t seem to stop for air; he talked a mile a second. I thought the vein on his forehead was going to burst at any second.
“Keisha I do not appreciate you going through my phone! I don’t touch or go through your personal things. Show some respect! Shit! You walk around here like this is your crib! Respect my house. Respect my shit! I am not going to have this conversation with you no more,” he said, throwing his hands up and walking towards the den.
I decided I was not putting up with his bullshit anymore. I got countless calls weekly from my friends, and especially from my coworkers, who I hated. They fed me bullshit about this and that concerning Randy. He was the one rumored to be running around sneaking and cheating. I did not care if he burst a blood vessel. I was going to find the truth now!
Through rumors and gossip, I even heard Randy was out buying drinks for random females at the club! But he couldn’t give me a couple of dollars to help pay an investigator to find my sister, who I longed for ever since I was released from that hole-in-the-wall foster home. With all the accusations and my intuition, I was about to explode.
Randy swore to me that he was faithful. He always said that my friends were jealous and lived miserable lives. One thing I knew for sure was that they were indeed unhappy, but jealous definitely not! They had absolutely no reason to be jealous of this half-assed relationship.
I followed him yelling, “You really sound so stupid! You know that?” I pointed my finger in his face and looked at him angrily. He flopped onto the couch, grabbed the remote control and flipped from channel to channel, ignoring me.
“All of the excuses you just mentioned were the same shit you took me through over and over for the past few years. Bitches call my phone and leave anonymous voicemails. Their desperate asses ride around stalking me,” I said as my eyes tearing up. “I put my heart and everything into this relationship. You promised me we would get married and start a family. I don’t deserve this shit and you know it! I was there for you when all you had was a pot to piss in. Now that I need you, it is your way or the highway. I am tired. I’m getting fed up with your bullshit Randy.” I cried, turning my back to him. “I should’ve left you a long time ago!”
In the midst of all the rumors and chaos with Randy, I chose to ignore and accept it for what it was. I stayed in the relationship. Now however, I was embarrassed that our business was public; it made me look stupid. Here I was bragging about the love we shared, while all this time he was out running around and screwing women unprotected.
Some female accused him of fathering her child; I stood by him through it all. He swore up and down he did not sleep with this woman and I believed him.
He took a paternity test and it turned out not to be his. Then he had the nerve to get mad at me for being mad about the situation. He needed to understand that just because the child was not his this time, it should never even be a possibility. The fact that it was, let me know that at some point he stuck his raw dick in the bitch. After that happened, I was so ashamed.
I did not want to face my friends. I did not want to face anyone for that matter. The situation made me very insecure about myself. Actually, I blamed myself. I thought he was out cheating because I was not good enough for him or I was not fulfilling his needs. I stayed because I did not want to see another bitch enjoying my man. Instead, I should have realized I could do better.
He had me so messed up. If he went the gas station, I assumed he made a stop in between too screw someone. If we went to the store and a woman gave me a look, I was sure she was someone he slept with.
“Leave me? You don’t believe that,” he said, not caring about the fact that I just poured my heart out to him. He was not listening!
“Before I marry you, at least twenty pounds need to drop. I don’t want an overweight woman hanging on my arm! How many times did I need to remind you about your predicament? I have a house, you don’t.” He walked towards me with a malicious look on his face. “Keisha, I’m not holding you here. If you want to leave, there’s the door. Make sure you leave my car keys on the table.”
I snapped. “I’ll lose the weight when I want to lose it! If it wasn’t because of your careless mistakes, I’d have my car right now! So, don’t go there with me.”
I was sick of arguing with him about me not having a place to live. I hated that I depended on him. He used that to control my life and me, but I had a trick for him! Monday morning, I was going to the bank to open an account. I needed to start stashing money aside immediately.
“What do you mean my mistakes? Your car was repossessed! You failed to pay the note. I had nothing to do with why you do not have a car. You better get your mind right!”
“The first car I had, jackass!” I said, rolling my eyes. “Everything I got you took. Don’t forget, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have this house.”
Randy and I met nearly ten years ago at a club. I had no intentions of being with him for as long as I had, but shit happens. I can’t lie; it was lust at first sight. The sex was good and we had great chemistry. When we got together he did not have much, I was the one with the car, the house and the job.
After giving him access to my money, like a damn fool, he charged too much to my credit cards, wrecked my car, and almost lost me my job. I called out from work every other day just to be with him.
After a while reality snuck in; the bills started coming and I could not afford to pay them. He was working at a mechanic shop making enough to meet his needs, so he offered for me to live with him so that I could get the bills he accumulated paid off. He promised me he would help me pay some of the bills and save up money to find my sister. I did not see a dime.
“Since you want to argue about lies, get your things and leave. Actually, go live with one of your hating-ass friends. Let’s see if they let you stay with them.” He was so agitated walking back and forth, wagging his finger up and down like a gang banger.
I hesitated then said, “Whatever! You love throwing that bullshit in my face. I can’t wait until I get on my feet and I definitely can’t wait for the day you need me again. I was doing well before I met you and I can do well without you!”
He got scared when I started fronting about leaving his ass. Randy knew he would not be where he was today if it was not for me.
“I know what to say to get your ass to shut up,” he said, bragging. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d be living on the streets. Just face the truth.” He had a grin on his face as if he was only joking about me leaving.
“I don’t need you! You are the one working that lowpaying job. Thanks to you, I’m in debt, but guess what? I’m at a point where most of my bills are paid. I can hold my own,” I said spitefully, lying.
“Low paying job?” he laughed, slighted. “That low paying job helps pay the bills; the bills you’ve accumulated since you’ve been living here. For example, the high light bill, you stay in the bathroom curling your fake-ass weave way into the wee hours of the night. The entire house smells like stinking burnt rubber. I’m jeopardizing my good credit by letting you stay here; running up the bills in my name. Then you talk crap about it, telling me, ‘those bills are in your name. I don’t really care if they never get paid.’ Why would you say that to say to someone who provided a roof over your head?”
Randy was so angry with me he threw the television remote down and stormed towards the bedroom. He made less than I did and I knew how much he hated it when I rubbed that in his face. “You may want to think twice before you brag about me needing you for a place to say. You can dish it out, but you can’t take it!” I yelled from the hallway.
He did not respond so I walked in the doorway to the bedroom. It was a mess; things scattered all over the floor.
“This is ridiculous,” I mumbled under my breath, bending to pick up the clutter. I stumbled over sex toys, lube and paper to
wels. The room looked like a porn scene.
“Randy!”
He answered with an attitude, “What?!”
“What the hell is this? Why is this all over the floor?” I asked enraged. “I don’t even want to know why the sex toys are out of the box.”
“Well,” he explained, “I had the lube while watching online porn, and I accidently left the toys out while pulling out old VHS tapes from the closet. Chico thought they were his toys so he...”
“You let, the dam dog play with my personal things!” I said, aiming the dildo at his face. “And what do you mean online porn?”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with looking at a sexy woman’s physique,” he said, proudly. “You won’t let me look at your heavy; I meant sexy ass, so why not.”
He knew I was very sensitive about my weight. I tried every existing diet trying to please him. I could not do this anymore. I could not allow him to hurt me any longer; the emotional abuse was getting out of hand.
I walked off, reaching into my pocket for my phone. I had to call somebody, anybody, to rescue me from his ass before I killed him. I called my best friend Zan.
Zan is my sexy, plus-sized ride or die chick. She loved her cigarettes and Margaritas occasionally, as long as she was not buying. She was very ghetto and said whatever came to her mind. She loved drama and loved sticking her nose in my business, especially when it came to Randy.
She and I first met at the foster home. She had no choice but to stay there until a family adopted her or until she turned eighteen, just like me. She looked out for me every step of the way. The home was overcrowded and rundown. The heat never worked in the winter and the air-conditioner never worked in the summer. The exterior was dingy white and we didn’t have windows.
I remember when we were around thirteen years old; there was a security guard on the night shift named Earl. He was a white, pimped-out midget with rotten teeth. He called me ‘Pretty Girl’ and Zan ‘Sunshine’. He stole cookies from the pantry for us in the middle of the night. We got use to him coming to our room with the cookies. One night he came to our room without the cookies. Instead, He tried to make us perform oral sex on him. I was crying and frighten. Zan on the other hand was ready to fight him. She combined a can of oil-sheen and fire from her stolen lighter. She tried to set his ass on fire, but didn’t succeed. He never bothered us again. After that night, we vowed to stick together no matter what.
After the foster home released us, we went our separate ways. She wanted to go east and I wanted to go south. She moved to New York in hopes of landing a good job and I stayed in Georgia because that was where I was born and raised and I wanted to try to find my sister.
Seven years later, we met again at a club in Georgia; the exact same club and night she introduced me to Randy. She regretted it to this day. She told me the reason she moved to Georgia was to find a good white man. With no luck, she stuck to me like glue. After hearing all the commotion about Randy’s cheating scandals, she tried not to socialize with him at all. She literally hated him.
She answered, yawning in my ear, “Hello?”
“Zan,” I yelled through the phone.
“Will you stop screaming in my damn ear? What?”
“I need you to come and pick me up, right now!”
“Pick you up from where?” she asked with an attitude.
“From home, this muthafucka done lost his mind,” I said angrily.
“Why you can’t drive your ass over here in his car? And please don’t tell me it’s another argument,” she said before I could answer the first question.
“Zan, get your butt over here. You know that whenever I want to hang out with you, he comes up with every excuse not to let me use the car.”
I figured I’d fill her in on everything once she arrived. Besides, I knew his ass was in the other room listening. If he knew I was trying to hang out with her, he’d think of somewhere to go just to keep me from using the car.
“Listen, I worked graveyard shift last night, and to be honest with you, I don’t have time for the BS between you and Randy,” she said, annoyed.
“I stopped by your house after I got off work this morning. I wanted to use the phone because my battery died in my cell phone and did you know that he made me pay him to use the damn phone? I can’t stand his broke ass.”
“Just come get me, I’m buying us a couple of shots!” I said.
I did not feel like hearing her bash Randy for the fiftieth time. I had a headache already from his annoying griping.
“Fine! I’m on my way. I’m blowing the horn one time, ‘Ms.-never-is-ready,” she said, hanging up in my ear.
Despite the arguing, I knew I needed to apologize and force myself to give up a little poo-nanny to get on Randy’s good side. That was the only thing that calmed him down and kept him from blowing up. I desperately need this time with Zan to vent about him and our problems.
“Keisha,” Randy yelled. “Who are you on the phone with?”
These walls were paper-thin, so I knew his slick, earhustling ass heard my conversation. He was waiting for me to lie so that he could start another damn argument before I left. I was not giving his ass shit.
“Randy, baby,” I said in a high pitch tone. “Why didn’t you tell me Zan stopped by?”
“All of a sudden I’m your baby?” he asked suspiciously, ignoring the question about Zan.
I forced my laugh as I walked towards the bedroom, “Zan wants me to ride with her to have a drink,” I lied.
“Do you see what time it is?” he nagged, looking at his watch. “Yep, seven pm and I’m an adult, who doesn’t need your approval to come home late. I do it out of respect, but since you’re coming at me with a controlling attitude, I’ll get here, when I get here.”
Randy was vying for an argument and I was falling right into his trap. Something unusual and major was going on with him however. He was sweating like a pig and the temperature in the house was cool.
“Why are you sweating?” I asked concerned, feeling his forehead. “I’m good,” he said, moving my hand and staring at the screen on the TV. “Go ahead with your plans. Since our relationship problems don’t matter to you, go ahead and tell all our problems to your senseless, single friend Zan.”
I knew where this was going, every time I tried hanging out with any of my friends, he sent me on a guilt trip, but this time I was not falling for it. I walked towards the closet as if I didn’t hear his whining.
“Where is my black sweater?” I mumbled under my breath. If he only knew I really needed this me time for my sanity just to keep from blowing up on his ass. He was too selfish to realize it.
“I’m laying up here sweating, damn near about to die. On top of that, we just finished arguing and you’re worried about your stupid-ass friend,” he yelled, sitting on the side of the bed.
I was about to sit down beside him, to explain my reasoning for having a girls night out, but he started yelling again.
“Bye. Get out of my face!”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” he said, surprised.
I was not about to him sympathy. I grabbed my sweater and headed for the door. Zan needed to get here now! For once in this relationship, I wanted to go out and enjoy myself with peace of mind. He wanted to argue and get me upset as usual. “I know what you’re trying to do Randy. It’s a shame that you will do whatever it takes to spoil my day. Ole selfish ass!” He was ready to jump in my face to retaliate.
Beep, beep, beep! Zan drove up pressing the horn as if she saw a prisoner escaping. “Right on time,” I muttered. “Zan’s here. I’ll be home late,” I said moving away in a hurry, looking back towards the bed and at him.
He flung his hand up, responding with an attitude. “Bye and take all your shit with you.”
I knew what that tone of voice was about and I was not about to entertain it. “Have it packed for me by the time I get back,” I yelled. He didn’t respond and I couldn’t care less. I was happy to get as far away f
rom him as I could.
TWO
I stepped out the front door onto the screened porch, the sun was a giant, scorching, ball beaming into my face; it was damn near 100 degrees outside. Zan sat in her 1990s pink Honda civic. She was cursing and fussing. She was wearing her white frame shades and she sported a new Halley Berry cut. A cigarette sat in the corner of her mouth, hands free, causing her left eye to squint from the acrid smoke.
“Keisha, now you know my back seat windows do not let down,” she shouted, through the cracked front window. “I don’t have enough gas to run my A/C, so hurry the hell up!”
“I’m coming,” I said in a high-pitched tone, walking in a hurry towards the passenger side as fast my six-inch red pumps let me. As soon as I climbed into the car, the stench from her damn cigarette gagged me. “Dang, we need to let this car air out. Here,” I said, handing her ten dollars for gas, “so we will be able to turn on the A/C.”
“Ten dollars,” she said, ungratefully. “Keisha is you serious? What am I going to do with ten damn dollars? Do you realize gas in Georgia is almost four dollars a gallon? This will only get us out of your driveway.” She was peeping out of her shades and rolling her eyes.
Zan rode with the gas needle on empty 90 percent of the time; she depended on others to fill her car up. She bought cigarettes and got her hair done before she put any fuel in her car. “Do we have enough gas to make it to the ATM?” I asked, giving her the side eye.
After inhaling two puffs from her cigarette and in between blowing the smoke she said “Yeah,” with a smirk on her face. I knew her ass was down for that. She pulled off so quickly, she almost backed into a ditch.
We were driving 35 miles per hour in a 55 zone. She liked to creep while she smoked her cigarettes, I didn’t know why. She claimed she got a speeding ticket years ago in New York and was paranoid ever since about smoking and driving.
“Can we go any faster?” I asked, covering my nose; the car reeked. “Hell no, is you going to pay my ticket for me if I get stopped by the police?” she said, hanging her arm out of the window, flicking ashes. “You stay in the white folk’s neighborhood! I have to be careful around here.”
Best Dressed Lie (Keisha Jackson) Page 2
