Girlfriend looked at me real funny-like and said, “So, exactly how long were you and Carl … neighbors?”
I don’t know if she was simply digging for information, trying to start something, or what, but just as I was about to give her the goods on me and dude, Carl’s Uncle West-brook came over and launched into an interrogation of his own.
“You ladies doing all right?” is what he started with, before turning on slim and saying, “Excuse me, but don’t I know you from somewhere? Didn’t you used to go with a tall, gray-haired cat, owned a red Caddy? Went by the name of, ah, Sonny Boy?”
She grinned and said, “Yes, sir, I most certainly did. I haven’t seen him in ages, though. How’s he doing these days?”
Mr. Westbrook was like, “Who? Sonny Boy? Oh, he’s dead.”
Looking right shocked, girlfriend hollered, “What?!”
“Yup.” Westbrook nodded. “Passed away ’bout four, five months ago. A massive heart attack is what I heard.”
While they danced back and forth around the details, I snuck my butt on away from there and slid up next to Nora, who was busying herself at the buffet table.
She smiled and said, “What’s up, girl? Don’t tell me you need me and Betty to buy you some more time.”
“Thanks, but no thanks” is what I was quick to tell her.
She glanced over at slim and said, “So, what she talkin’ ’bout?”
Nothin’ besides the number of old-ass men she done put out to pasture is what I almost volunteered. But not wanting to get Nora all riled again, I just said, “Honey, please, you don’t even wanna know.”
HIM
Women are funny, man. If ol’ girl showing her face up in the place wasn’t shocking enough, not in a billion years would I have ever banked on Nora and my ex teaming up to run a doggone screen on my behalf. And Ms. Vic … man, had anybody told me baby girl had it in her to cut up sideways like she did that night, I’da called them and their mama both a liar. But I was an eyewitness, if not a reluctant participant, in some of her tricked-out madness.
Take the li’l stunt she up and pulled when somebody made the mistake of treating me to some of Al Green’s “Love and Happiness.” I’d just finished proving to the twins that their ol’ pops was still capable of busting a move or two when I heard those smooth, rhythmic strings segueing into the last few notes of Bow Wow’s spastic hip-hop beat. Yeah, man, you know how it goes. Bump-bump-bump, bump-bump-bump-bump, bum … bum … bum.
I’m saying, dog, it’s just something about those licks that make the hair rise up on a brother’s back. And it wasn’t like I needed a partner. It’s one of those songs I’m just as content to groove to all by my lonesome. But as my quote-unquote date for the evening, Ms. Vic obviously somehow felt obliged to join me—which I probably wouldn’t have minded all that much had the circumstances been different. Say, for instance, had the audience watching us do our thing not included my two highly impressionable little girls, my already pissed-off ex, my fickle former lover, and her scheming-demon of a best friend. Or, let’s say, if Ms. Vic hadn’t been out there grinding her butterfly all up in my groin, dropping it like it was hot, and whatnot. I’m telling you, man, the girl was popping that little butt of hers every which way but loose. And anybody who’s ever heard “Love and Happiness” knows it ain’t even that kind of jam.
I thought for sure at any second my girl Bet was gonna fly into a stomp-footed rage and snatch both our asses off the floor. And it wasn’t like I didn’t have a good mind to pull baby girl aside and tell her to slow her doggone roll. But hey, all my boys were there—my cousin Squirrel, my Uncle Westbrook, and all the rest of ’em. Short of letting myself be seen getting straight punked, wasn’t nothin’ I could do but go with the flow.
And even after all was said and done, I might have still been okay with it if at a certain point I hadn’t looked up and seen what looked for all the world like hurt in Faye’s eyes. Come on, baby. This ain’t even about you! is what I wanted to yell across the room at her, even though on Ms. Vic’s part, I’d dare say it most certainly was.
To my surprise, we managed to get through the song and finish the dance without any subsequent loss of life or limb. But it was right about then that I realized if I kept hanging out with the likes of Ms. Vic, the chances of me making it to yet another birthday unscathed and with all my wits about me were somewhere between slim and none.
After bowing to the round of cheers and applause I got from most of the fellas, I joined Ms. Vic in downing another glass of punch. Of course the whole time I was drinking, I was looking around for Faye, in hopes that she’d be open to hearing me out about what had just gone down.
With ol’ girl nowhere in sight, I made up my mind to go off in search of her. But in order to facilitate a clean getaway without Ms. Vic feeling the need to trail me, I had to drum up a lie about having to go take a leak.
On my way across the room, I ran into Squirrel, who said, “You know something, man? Since Big Red lost all that weight, she kinda puts you in mind of a nice voluptuous cross between Faith Evans and Toni Braxton, don’t you think?”
“Sure, man, whatever” is what I told him. “You seen her anywhere?”
He was like, “Who, Red? Yeah, she just left. What, you didn’t know?”
Man, that’s when I saw Nora. She swung a hand up on her hip and shook her head in my direction as if to say, “Umm-hmm, you know ya blew that, don’t cha?”
HER
Ordinarily, that kind of mess doesn’t even phase me. Wasn’t like I didn’t know exactly what girlfriend was trying to pull with her pointedly nasty imitation of Lil Kim, Foxy Brown, and Beyoncé all rolled into one. But I’m here to tell you, “bootylicious” it wasn’t. More like a whole lot of booty-stank.
Even so, I might have halfway understood it had I said something nasty to the chile or done something to indicate that I was out to claim her man. I almost stuck around just so I could tell her that she needn’t waste her time worrying about me, because for all practical purposes I’d already been there, done that, and moved on to other things.
I guess more than anything, what really irked me was just how much Carl seemed to be enjoying the whole trite Player’s Club set, especially given the fact that just seconds before he’d been all up in my face talking that yang.
Now, how was I supposed to believe anything he’d just said to me after seeing him let little Ms. Hot Draws back that thang up on him? Like I’m really gonna want to stick around, much less dance with his silly behind after having stood by and watched him get his jollies with this girl. Honey, please. Had I been in the mood for a freak show, I’da stayed at home and watched the durn Spice channel.
So, yeah, I left. What else was I supposed to do? I told you, girl, I’m not even trying to waste my time like that. But if it makes you feel any better, then fine, I’ll admit it. Yeah, I was a little hurt, but only because I’d momentarily let myself buy into the con that Carl really cared.
HIM
Soon as she realized Faye had split the scene, Ms. Vic went ahead and loosened the choke hold she had on my leash. I was standing ’round with a group of the fellas, soaking up the praises they were showering on me for having bagged such a hot, young cutie, when the ex walked up and dragged my airborne ego back to the ground. “Yeah, go ’head, ‘Mr. Big Stuff.’ Out there in front of your children showing your natural black ass, like you ain’t got good sense the first. I swear, when the barber shaved off all your hair, he must have taken a damn good chunk of your brain right along with it.”
After she stormed off, my cousin Squirrel stepped to me in all seriousness and said, “You know, as much as I enjoyed it, dog, that was a pretty foul thing to do, not only because of the kids, but I mean, dang, especially with your girl Red being here and all. That’s not like you, dog. Did ol’ girl say something to make you mad or what?”
Instead of answering him, I turned to my Uncle West-brook, who was standing there with a slightly amused expression on his f
ace. “All right,” I told him. “Go ’head and let me have it.”
Unc slid an arm across my shoulder and said, “Look here, son. I’m just gonna tell you what a smart man would do. A smart man would take that li’l ol’ hot-tailed gal back home, give her a quick smooch goodbye, and then go on and see about his woman. That’s what a smart man would do.”
Squirrel said, “Hold up, now, Unc. I’m all for being smart and what have you. But I think the brother’s entitled to a little something more than just a quick smooch before he ups and makes that final exit. I’m saying, ain’t no harm in making that butterfly bounce a time or two before you go and make things right ’twence you and Big Red. You feel me?”
Man, the only thing I was feeling right about then was bad—because deep down I knew my Uncle Westbrook was right. I needed to leave Victoria’s hard-bouncing butt alone and go see about my woman. Only thing was, I wasn’t sure where to even start with that task. So, quite naturally, I did what I usually do when in doubt—I winged it.
On the ride back to Victoria’s place, “Say Yes” by Floetry came on the radio and she told me, “Oooh, Carl, turn that up! That’s my jam.”
While she was sitting there snapping her fingers, bobbing her head, and mouthing the lyrics to “Say Yes,” I was over there in the driver’s seat twitching and squirming and trying to figure out a nice way to just tell her ass no.
When the moment of truth finally arrived and we were standing up at her door, instead of being cool with it, I held up my watch and went straight goober on the girl. “Man, time sure does fly when you’re having fun, don’t it?”
She smiled at me and said, “Is that a polite way of saying you’re not coming in?”
I told her, “I’d better not.”
“Why?” she asked, prior to reaching over and dancing her fingers across my chest. “You scared?”
“Something like that” is what I said, after reminding myself to breathe.
“I had a little sumthin’-sumthin’ of my own planned for you,” she said, while alternately thumbing my nipples, neither of which wasted any time in jumping up to greet her touch.
I was like, “Ahh, I can well imagine.”
She narrowed her eyes and went on. “A little Sidney Poitier, a little champagne, a little coconut-flavored massage oil, a brand-new black teddy …”
I’d started sweating and I was trying to back up offa baby girl when she pressed her body against me, laid her head on my chest, and said, “Carl?”
“Yeah, baby,” I said. And I’ma tell you, man, by this time the girl had my nose so wide open, I was straight up smelling Girl Scout cookies. I’m talking Trefoils and Thin Mints. Seriously.
“You’re going to see that woman, aren’t you?” is what she asked me. “The one who left the party early?”
I told you, man, chick ain’t no dummy. And inasmuch, I kicked it to her like this. I said, “To tell you the truth, Victoria, I’m not really sure what I’m gonna do after I leave here tonight.”
Easing off me a bit, she smiled and looked down at the heat-seeking missile, which despite my best efforts was now boldly asserting its presence between us. She said, “So is that for me or for her?”
“That’s certainly because of you” is what I told her. “But if you want me to be honest, baby, I gotta say no. I’m fairly certain it’s not for you.”
“Well, as always, I appreciate your honesty, Carl. And when you see your lady friend, make sure you tell her I ain’t mad at her. Tell her I didn’t mean any real harm. I just thought that maybe I had a chance.”
I kissed her on the forehead and told her, “Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s all good. And thanks for being there for me. It meant a lot. Really.”
She said, “Sure, anytime. And just so you know, if things don’t work out between you and your friend, you’re always welcome to stop back by here, be it tonight or any other night.”
Man, I nodded my head and took off out of there like a jet before I lost what little resolve I had to keep away from all the sinful goodies I suspected were lying in wait for a brother at the bottom of baby girl’s cookie jar.
HER
After I left the party, I went home and changed clothes before driving over to the hospital and doing my volunteer bit. Come the end of my shift, I’d started back to the condo when I remembered that I was only three days into my weeklong stay at Scoobie’s place.
Initially the plan had been for me to stay at the godawful plantation brother Scoobie calls a home until his return from Europe, which would have had me holed up out there in misery a full three weeks. But thankfully, he’d been having some renovations done in his kitchen and two of his bathrooms and the completion of the work had taken a couple weeks longer than expected. That, at least, cut my sentence down to a somewhat tolerable seven days.
“It’s a great house, babe” is what he told me before he left. “And I’m sure after you’ve spent some time out here, you’ll come to love it as much as I do.”
Girl, please. Just because living up in the durn “big house” with Prissy, Mammy, Uncle Ben, and ’Nem is Scoobie’s idea of the good life doesn’t make it mine.
Anyway, that’s where I was when the phone rang around eleven that night. I wasn’t asleep. Matter of fact, the phone was on the bed next to me ’cause I’d just hung up from talking to my girl Terri. The only reason I let the answering machine take the call was that I figured it would probably be Scoobie again, calling to twist my arm some more about going to Florida, marrying him, or some other such nonsense.
Suffice to say, I was more than just a little shocked when after the beep, I heard Carl’s voice talking ’bout, “Faye, it’s me, the birthday boy. I was calling to thank you for my gift.”
I picked up and told him, “Hey … you’re welcome. I suppose I have Nora to thank for telling you how and where to find me.”
“Of course,” he said. “But in her defense, your girl didn’t exactly volunteer the information. So if you’re gonna be mad at anybody, make it me. In case you haven’t noticed, persistence is my middle name.”
I told him, “Ain’t that the truth.”
Rather than waste any more time, he jumped right to his real reason for calling. “So tell me, why’d you leave so early?”
“Tonight’s the night I do my volunteer work at the hospital, remember?” I said, deciding to play along.
“Yeah, but you could have at least told me goodbye. You owe me a dance, I want you to know.”
I said, “Uh-huh. So how come you’re not out somewhere celebrating with your girlfriend?”
He was like, “I told you, she’s not my girlfriend. Is that why you left?”
Yeah, like I was really supposed to cop to that. I said, “Please.”
He paused before slipping down into his Barry White voice. “You know, when I was dancing with her tonight, I looked over at you and for a split second there I saw something in your eyes that made me wonder if you weren’t just a wee bit jealous.”
I said, “Umpf, you’ve been drinking, haven’t you?”
He laughed and said, “You left before I got a chance to cut the cake. I saved you a piece and I was wondering if I could bring it over.”
My heart started racing a bit because having to see him again so soon wasn’t something I’d exactly prepared myself for. I said, “You mean now?”
He said, “Yeah, why not? You expecting your boy Chef Cootie home sometime tonight?”
Without bothering to stop and correct his deliberate mispronunciation of Scoobie’s name, I said, “Carl, it’s late and, well, I’m supposed to be house-sitting. I don’t know if you coming out here is such a good idea” is what I told him, hoping that the agitation in my voice would be enough to make him change his mind.
“I won’t stay long, I promise,” he said, trading in his Barry act for some Keith Sweat. “Come on, Faye. It’s my birthday. All I’m asking for is a little company.”
Yeah, girl. He tried to play me like Sally Simple. But y
ou know a sister wasn’t having it—at least not on those terms anyway. I told him, “Oh, like I’m really supposed to believe that once you get over here, you’re not gonna try and make some kinda pass.”
That’s when he broke down and said, “Look, woman, I’m on the phone at the Exxon not too far from you and not only is it starting to rain, but there’s a young thug out here who looks like he might try to bust a cap in my behind any second now. Just let me drop the cake off. If you’d rather I not come in, then fine, I won’t.”
Hoping the frustration I heard in his tone was a sign that he was ready to hang it up and call it a night, I told him, “Fine. Come on then.”
HIM
Dude lives way out in the county in this big antebellum monstrosity. And, yeah, I know going out there was a risky, if not outright reckless, move on my part. But hey, the way I see it, Nora’s just as much to blame as me for how the whole trip out there came to be in the first place. After all, she’s the one who kept pestering me about coming up with some kind of plan. To Nora’s credit, though, prior to giving me the full 411 on her friend’s where-abouts, she did grill me rather extensively about my intentions.
“Look, Carl, you can’t be going out there and acting no fool” is what she told me. “I’m saying, don’t make me regret this, okay? ’Cause on the real, my brother, if I find out that you was up in there cutting up and carrying on, I will hunt your ass down and …”
I gave her my best mad Black-man scowl and said, “I done already told you, this ain’t Mike Tyson or Kobe Bryant you’re dealing with. All I want to do is see the girl. Besides, when have you ever known Faye to let somebody take advantage of her without a fight? And believe me, if I’ve got to whup her for it, she can damn well keep it.”
Faye’s instructions over the phone had been for me to take the circular drive around to the rear of the property. She met me at the back door, like she said she would. And I’m not gonna lie, just the sight of her standing there waiting on me in her robe, and bare feet, and with a hint of a smile on her face, got me good and tingly in all the right places. And if I’m gonna come all the way clean ’bout my motives, I’ve got to admit that the canine in me was pumped by the very idea of kicking it with ol’ girl up in dude’s house while he was way on the other side of the world somewhere.
After The Dance Page 25
