He's Just A Friend

by Mary B. Morrison

  “May I help you?” A small-framed woman who looked like she’d swallowed a watermelon stood in the doorway. Short, wavy, coal-black hair. Pecan-brown skin. She wasn’t nearly as gorgeous as Fancy. The woman was rather homely looking. She wore a blue slip-on long-sleeve dress with a hemline that rested above her blue slippers. Fancy wondered if the woman was having a boy.

  “Are you Mrs. Lee?” Fancy asked, peripherally focusing on the woman’s stomach.

  “Yes, darling. How may I help you? You look overdressed to be from Molly Maids,” she asked, then smiled.

  Molly what? Who in hell did she think she was talking to? Molly Maids don’t wear designer suits. The pantsuit Fancy wore, a salmon-colored two-piece with a silk rust camisole, was brand new. Her tan leather boots were worn once before. Fancy tucked her hair behind her ears to showcase her diamond teardrop earrings.

  “Oh, I’m definitely nobody’s maid.” Fancy had enough of cleaning up behind Caroline to last her her lifetime. “I’m a real estate agent and appraiser. Just doing a comparison study in your area. A home similar to yours is listed and well, I was wondering if I could just look around outside before my client submits his offer,” Fancy lied, hoping to get inside the house.

  “Oh, you must be talking about the Latimores. We used the same contractor to redesign our kitchens and bathrooms but you won’t find many similarities because our architectural developers were different.” Mrs. Lee opened the door wider and stood back. “Well, what’s your name? What company are you with? And where’s your ID?” The short woman was still cheery.

  Byron was obviously happily married and had no intention of divorcing his wife.

  Fancy fumbled through her purse. “Oh, wow! I forgot my wallet at the office. I can come back if you prefer.”

  “That’s okay, honey, I may not be home later. Come on in. I’ll give you a quick tour.”

  When Fancy entered the house her mouth hung open and her eyes filled with tears as she held her stomach. Byron’s home was exquisite. Marbled and cherry hardwood floors. Staircases to her left and right led to a row of rooms upstairs.

  “Would you like some tea? We have black and green. We can sit while I show you the before and after rehab pictures.” Mrs. Lee turned and continued walking into the kitchen.

  Mimicking choking the woman, Fancy said, “Oh, no thanks. I have other appointments. I just came to see the amenities. Who’s your interior decorator?” Fancy asked hurriedly, lowering her hands, pretending to appreciate the painting on the kitchen ceiling.

  “Oh, my gosh!” Mrs. Lee faced Fancy, then cupped her hands underneath her stomach. “I’ve been in labor the past two days but I think this is it!”

  In labor? For two days? What the hell? Fancy didn’t have to stand because she’d never taken a seat.

  The woman removed the cordless phone from the base. “I have to call my husband. Can you please stay with me until he gets here? He won’t take long.”

  Fancy dropped her purse. Hurriedly she tucked her tan leather bag under her arm. “Um, I really have to go.” Fancy shuffled across the hardwood floor onto the marbled foyer, and raced outside to her car. Her driver’s license tumbled out of her purse, then fell in the grass. She swiftly picked it up, and hopped in her car. The engine wouldn’t start. Her brand new car wouldn’t start. Fancy opened, then closed her door again. She banged on the steering wheel. The car still wouldn’t start. “This is an omen. I know it is.” The cell phone fumbled in her hands as she called Desmond.

  Hurry up and answer the phone! Desmond answered on the fifth ring.

  “Dez, I need you baby. My car won’t start!” Fancy heard sirens in the distance. “You gotta help me!”

  “Where are you? And what do you mean your car won’t start? It’s a brand new Benz.”

  “I know what it is! Dez, this is serious. You’re really not helping me!” Fancy worried more because the road she’d taken was one way in and one way out.

  “Calm down,” Desmond said. “Where are you? I’ll come and get you.”

  “No, I just need to know how to get my car started.”

  “Well, what’s it doing?”

  “Nothing!”

  Fancy hung up on Desmond when she heard a car coming up the driveway. She started breathing heavily. She desperately turned her key as far as she could in the ignition and pumped her accelerator several times. Byron pulled his car alongside hers.

  Shaking his head, Byron frowned at Fancy. “What are you doing here?” he quizzically asked.

  Mrs. Lee wobbled over to Byron. “I’m so glad you’re here. Now I don’t need the ambulance. You can take me to the hospital.”

  Byron kissed her forehead and said, “No way, Sis. You’re going in the ambulance.” Byron lovingly steered the woman toward the ambulance that just pulled up behind his car. “You know how crazy your overprotective husband is.” They both laughed.

  Sis? Mrs. Lee was his sister? Fuck! Fancy dropped her head and closed her eyes for a few seconds. When she opened them she could have kicked herself in the ass. One, for not trusting Byron. Two, she’d left her automatic gear in drive when she turned off the car.

  Byron helped his sister into the ambulance, then walked over to Fancy’s car. Fancy pressed the automatic lock button to secure all the doors.

  Byron’s arm rushed inside the car.

  “Hey! What are you doing?” Fancy yelled, wrestling with Byron’s arm.

  He snatched the keys from the ignition. “Get in my car,” he said forcefully.

  Fancy sat staring at the house. She’d fucked up big time this time. Why couldn’t she trust Byron? Or any other man for that matter? Maybe her inability to trust was the real reason she hadn’t gotten married.

  “Fine. Don’t get out the car. I’ll talk with you later,” Byron said before dropping her keys into his pocket. Byron got into his car and backed out of the driveway.

  Fancy opened her purse and removed her spare keys. Byron didn’t honestly think she was that stupid. Fancy always kept an extra set of keys in her purse. When she turned the key, this time her car started. She sped backward out of the driveway onto the road and took off down the hill.

  CHAPTER 24

  SaVoy wondered if she’d done something to upset Tyronne. The last two Wednesdays another delivery person filled her orders. She didn’t know what to expect this Wednesday. Why wasn’t Tyronne returning her calls? Whenever she asked Desmond, all he ever told her was, “Tyronne’s fine.”

  SaVoy heard the sound of a big truck, similar to Tyronne’s, and leaned over the counter. Budweiser. Wrong truck. She walked to the door, stepped outside, and scanned down the street. First to her left. Then to her right. No Tyronne. SaVoy returned inside and aligned seasonings and boxed and canned foods along the edge of the shelves. SaVoy whispered, “ ‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight. Lord, you know best.’ ” SaVoy continued arranging until each shelf appeared full although most of the items were only stocked two rows deep.

  “What’s up?”

  SaVoy quickly turned toward the door.

  Desmond strolled inside. “Need some help?”

  SaVoy sighed, “No, but thanks. I need to keep busy,” SaVoy said, kneeling before the detergents on the bottom shelf.

  “Well, thanks to you”—Desmond opened his arms—“I’m ready to take my LSAT.” When SaVoy stood, he wrapped his arms around her.

  “That’s great news. You’ve studied really, really hard; you should pass the test the first time around. Then you can apply for a scholarship with my church, too.”

  “Don’t I have to be a member?”

  “Nope. Pastor Tellings believes we’re all a part of the same community. Member or not. Plus, lots of our members are very wealthy and even the ones who don’t attend still tithe faithfully.”

  “Man, you are too close to my woman. You need to back up, boy,” Tyronne said, opening his arms to SaVoy. “C
ome here, woman.”

  SaVoy gasped. Joyful tears welled in her eyes. “Where’ve you been? I missed you!” SaVoy was so excited she practically leaped into Tyronne’s arms. “Desmond, could you watch the register for a moment?” SaVoy asked.

  “Sure, no problem. But I gotta run in a few,” Desmond said, watching SaVoy.

  She squeezed Tyronne’s hand, led him inside the office, and closed the door. “Where’ve you been?”

  “Can a brother get a kiss before he starts kissing up?”

  Tyronne’s muscular biceps felt protective wrapped around her shoulders. He had the best kisses. Tyronne’s warm and sweet tongue wavered inside SaVoy’s mouth.

  “I can’t stay,” Tyronne said, stepping back, admiring SaVoy. “You remember that little incident I told you about with my ex, Lisa? The one who spray-painted me in the restaurant.”

  SaVoy nodded.

  “Well, I thought the company had forgotten about that shit but they didn’t. My supervisor placed me on suspension for two weeks. Without pay. So I just chilled. Handled my business, you know. Had some rough days. But a brotha’s all right now. Back on the job. Had a lot of time to think, though.” Tyronne kissed SaVoy lips, then said, “Especially about you.”

  “I thought I’d done something to upset you,” was all SaVoy could think of to say. A minor in psychology and she was at a loss for words.

  Tyronne kissed her lips again. “We need to talk. Can you come to my place around eight? Bring your clothes if you want to spend the night.”

  “Okay,” SaVoy said. She beamed with excitement. All of her concerns dissipated the minute she saw Tyronne. She didn’t want to waste time arguing or complaining, believing that would add to Tyronne’s stress. SaVoy’s plan, whenever she did have a relationship, was to complement her mate by being supportive. Not combative.

  Desmond’s hand was raised in a knocking motion when Tyronne opened the door. “Man, I gotta go.” Desmond lowered his hand, then said, “Hey, man, you wanna go to the football game Saturday?” Desmond nodded. “I got two tickets and VIP passes, man.”

  Tyronne looked at SaVoy and smiled. “Depends.”

  Desmond frowned and said, “What? You must be kidding.”

  “Depends”—Tyronne nodded toward SaVoy—“on if SaVoy wants to hook up Saturday,” Tyronne said, waiting for SaVoy’s response.

  SaVoy wasn’t sure if this was a time to be selfish or selfless. Of course she wanted to spend time with Tyronne. Where was Vanessa when she needed her? “Why don’t you go to the game. And we can get together after ward.”

  “I’ll see you Saturday, dawg!” Tyronne yelled to Desmond as Desmond walked toward the door. “I gotta get busy. I’m running late.” Tyronne tilted SaVoy’s chin and kissed her lips, then added, “Um, um, um. For a very good reason.” Tyronne shook his head. “Let me drop this order. I’ll see you tonight, beautiful.”

  SaVoy watched Tyronne’s biceps flex as he stocked the cooler and she became hotter.

  “Peace. I’m out.” Tyronne slapped the counter and left.

  Tyronne could have taken her virginity but he didn’t. That made him more special. SaVoy couldn’t wait until eight o’clock to see him again.

  SaVoy closed the store thirty minutes early and drove home. She replayed the song Tyronne had dedicated to them, “Everytime I Close My Eyes” by Kenny G, and sang along with Babyface, “ ‘. . . every time I close my eyes I thank the Lord that I’ve got you. And you’ve got me too . . .’ ”

  Papa’s car was parked out front and Vanessa’s car was in the driveway. SaVoy parked next to Vanessa’s car and raced inside. “Hi, Papa.” SaVoy kissed her father on the cheek.

  “There’s my Baby Girl. How’s everything at the store?” Papa asked with a smile.

  “Everything’s fine, Papa.” SaVoy looked at Vanessa and said, “Hello, Vanessa.” Then she bit her bottom lip, and shifted her eyes toward her bedroom.

  Vanessa patted SaVoy’s dad on the knee and said, “I’ll be back, big Papa.”

  That was the first time SaVoy witnessed her father slapping Vanessa on the ass.

  SaVoy closed her bedroom door and sat on the bed facing Vanessa. “So, how are you?”

  “We can skip the formalities.” Vanessa squeezed SaVoy’s hands. “How’s Tyronne?”

  “He’s fine. I’m nervous because I like him so much. I’m going over to his place tonight. And I’m ready.” SaVoy looked away from Vanessa.

  Vanessa guided SaVoy’s chin back in her direction. “Just remember this. Don’t give up your womanhood for him. Having sex with Tyronne won’t make him your man. Getting pregnant won’t make you his woman or make him take care of a baby. What you should think about is sharing a special moment with a special person. And remember, it’s okay to change your mind. Before. Or during. If you don’t want to go all the way, honey, don’t.”

  “I started taking birth control pills two months ago. And I had my first pap smear. The nurse told me I had to start my pills the first Sunday after my period and she said, ‘Wait until after your next period before you have sex. If you don’t, you could get pregnant. And always make him wear a condom.’ And she said we should get HIV tested together. And get our test results together.”

  SaVoy opened her bottom drawer and pulled out a shoe box half full of condoms. “She gave me all of these. You think she gave me enough?”

  Vanessa scooped a handful and tossed them in the air. “Hallelujah! It’s rainin’ safe sex all up in here!” Then she laughed heartily. “But Vanessa overlooked something, honey. You should’ve had your first pelvic exam at eighteen or if you would’ve had sex before eighteen you would’ve really needed to have an annual exam sooner.”

  SaVoy then commented, “That’s what the nurse said too. But I don’t think these prophylactics are large enough for Tyronne.”

  Vanessa left the bedroom and returned with her purse. “Here, take mine. These should fit. If not, honey, take a picture with your imagination and have a wet dream.”

  Those condoms must have been for Vanessa and Papa. SaVoy couldn’t imagine using their condoms so she looked at the brand and size, then handed the condoms back to Vanessa. “Thanks. But I want to get my own.”

  SaVoy stopped at the twenty-four-hour Walgreens on Telegraph and 51st and purchased two three-packs of condoms just in case some of them broke.

  SaVoy arrived at Tyronne’s exactly at eight o’clock. She put her overnight bag in his room. When Tyronne didn’t come into the bedroom she went into the living room.

  “You ready?” Tyronne asked, reaching for his keys on the end table.

  SaVoy smiled. “For what?”

  “Woman, let’s go. I’m starving.” His eyes darted to the corners toward SaVoy. “I sure hope you know how to cook ’cause a brotha loves to eat.”

  Cook? For him? SaVoy hadn’t thought about that but since she was a terrific cook, the next time she was at Tyronne’s house she’d cook for him.

  Tyronne took SaVoy to Garibaldis on College Avenue. She had heard Fancy boast about the restaurant several times. Fancy was right. The food and service was extraordinary. So were the prices.

  “So, let me guess,” Tyronne said, munching on his vegetables. “You spent the rest of the day fantasizing about losing your virginity to me tonight.” He glanced at SaVoy over his plate. “Right?”

  SaVoy choked on her potatoes. “Tyronne. What makes you think that?”

  “ ’Cause, I know women.” Tyronne looked into her eyes. “You can relax. That’s not happenin’. At least not tonight.”

  What? Was he serious? “Why not?” SaVoy asked.

  “The truth?” Tyronne polished off his cola and ordered another.

  “Yes,” SaVoy said hesitantly.

  “I can get pussy anytime of the day or night. I can pick up my phone right now, and a feline would walk through that door before we finished eating. You’re not like them. You’re special, SaVoy. And I like you. A lot. But as much as I like you, I’m not ready for you. Well, what I�
��m saying is, I think you deserve better.” Tyronne’s eyes didn’t blink or waver.

  If SaVoy had learned anything from college, she knew not to debate with Tyronne or anyone else over their own conclusive reasoning. Besides, she was outnumbered two to one—his thoughts and his words against her heart. “I disagree. But if you say so.” This time Tyronne blinked several times. “How about going to church with me on Sunday?”

  Tyronne smiled, then answered, “Oookay. Sure, why not?”

  After dinner they returned to Tyronne’s place. SaVoy prepared a nice warm bath. She entered the living room, holding a large towel that covered from her breasts to her thighs, and asked, “Can we at least bathe together again?”

  Tyronne’s succulent lips parted. “Woman, you cannot break me down.”

  SaVoy turned, then said, “I’m not trying to. Honestly.” Her naked flesh was now facing Tyronne.

  Tyronne changed to the vocal jazz blends on his digital cable, increased the volume, and followed SaVoy into the bathroom.

  SaVoy waited until Tyronne was comfortably situated, then she eased into the tub, sat between his legs, and laid her head on his chest.

  The more Tyronne massaged her shoulders the more relaxed she became. Tyronne’s fingers teased her nipples, then slid up and over her shoulders. SaVoy placed his hands over her beasts again. This time he massaged them. SaVoy felt Tyronne’s erection ease from between her cheeks and up her spine. Twisting her upper body to face him, SaVoy kissed Tyronne like all she wanted at that very moment was him.

  Tyronne’s wet sudsy hands held her face. “Let’s get more comfortable.”

  SaVoy exhaled, dried him off as he dried her off, before making their way into his bedroom. Tyronne layered the comforter at the foot of the bed. Lit several candles. Lay atop the sheets. Spread his legs. The head of his dick rested on his navel.

  “You are not ready for this, woman,” Tyronne said, cupping his hands behind his head.

  SaVoy wanted him so she teased his balls with her tongue, working her way up his stomach, slipping his head in and out of her mouth like it was a caramel-apple lollipop. Tyronne enjoyed the moment. SaVoy watched as his facial expression tensed. His eyebrows drew closer. His lower back started to arch so she stroked him a little faster and sucked a little harder.