Changing Stiles

by Elaine Allen

  “Nothing; we were young and she realized the family thing wasn't for her. So, I got Bug and it’s just me and her.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Amira. My ladybug.” Thinking of how precious she is brings a smile to my lips. I’m lucky to have a village. Between my parents and siblings, she good. We’re good.

  “Oh. Okay. Fulltime dad. She must be cute.” The sound of her voice lightens, indicating that she may be open to it.

  Through the phone, I hear Mr. Stiles say, “Children aren’t that detrimental to a budding relationship, Nicole.” Mrs. Stiles must be having a fit, knowing that her princess is even entertaining a man who already has “excess baggage”.

  “She has her father’s genes.” I let it resonate before I approach the next questions. “You think you can handle that I’m a fulltime father and that she has a constant presence in my life?”

  “I honestly don’t know but I wouldn’t mind trying to find out,” Alieas breathes out.

  She has no idea that if she’s open, the possibilities are endless.

  “Most women I date aren’t trying to be a part of her life because what they really want is me, but they fail to realize that we come as a packaged deal. Amira is the most important person in my life, and she always comes first. I’ll always have room in my heart for someone else but right now, this is just the way things are. Can you understand what I’m telling you?”

  “Yeah, I understand.”

  “So, you think you still want to see me later on tonight or what?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  “Now, I remember you saying that you had somebody; what’s the deal with him?”

  I have no time.

  No time for side niggas, old niggas, they just my friend ass niggas. I need to know what it is.

  “Nothing. Just dating right now. I was in a relationship for over two years with a guy I loved, and now we're not together anymore.”

  The fine ones always have a story, nursing broken hearts over some nut behind dudes who were never good for them in the first place.

  “May I ask why?”

  “He didn’t want what I wanted. After two years of being together and three years of friendship before that, I think I had a right to want more than what he was offering.”

  “How long have you and he been broken up?” I question. The same way I want her to know what she’s getting into, I have to know what her deal is.

  “Like three months,” she responds.

  “That’s not a lot of time.”

  “I’m over it. I’ve done a lot of healing and found that I'm content with being alone if I have to be.”

  You don’t have to be alone, Princess. “What do you want?”

  “I want to find someone who’s going to be there for me when I need him, who will support me through my tough times, who will love me for me and not try to change me. ‘Cause changing Stiles ain't easy. I’m crazy as hell. I’m a hot-headed.” She takes a deep breath and then continues, “I want someone who is honest, responsible, caring, and respectful. Who can calm me down? Basically, I want what my parents have. And I'm not afraid to say it at the risk of scaring you off. I want it now.”

  “What's wrong with wanting it now?” I dig deeper.

  “Nothing. The thing is finding a man who wants those same things. They all say they want it but they be lying.”

  So, trust is gonna be an issue for her. “Every man ain't your last man, Ma.” And because I can see she is quick with the lip, I change the subject. “What would you like to go see tonight?"

  “How about we see Enough with J. Lo?” she recommends. “I was gonna catch it on a solo dolo mission, but I’d love some company.”

  “That sound good. Looks like she gonna be kicking ass in that jawn.”

  “Yup. I think I want to take a boxing class,” she confides.

  “Really? I can help you with that,” I tell her smoothly.

  “Yea, my trainer keeps trying to get me to do a kickboxing class with him. I could kickbox you.” The tone of her voice drops, alluding to other possibilities.

  I laugh, voice thick and deep. “I noticed that you're a real big flirt. And you have a slick mouth,” I say with a smile. I pull over in front of my parents’ house and pull into the driveway.

  “I definitely have a slick mouth. I’m trying to figure out if you wanna know just how slick it is. You think you’re up for that?”

  My dick pulsed at the thought of just how slick her mouth could be. “I’m always up for challenges,” I let her know. Lust makes my voice deeper and suggestive. I shake my head. I'd be embarrassed if walked inside with my dick all hard and my mom notices.

  “What time can I pick you up later? Do you wanna have dinner or anything first?”

  “We can do that. So, around seven?”

  “Seven's fine with me,” I agree. I have to go in here and beg my mom to keep Amira.

  “I guess you can pick me up at my apartment,” Alieas says, sighing lightly.

  My eyebrows crease. She tripping. “You guess?!" My voice is now deep and booming, leaving no doubts that I’m offended.

  “Giving your address to people you don't know is dangerous. Some dudes are crazy,” she playfully squeals.

  I run my tongue over my white teeth smoothly before letting her know that I am. “Only a lil bit. I passed your test, though?”

  “Yeah. You’re cool,” she affirms. She rattles the address off so quick that I scramble to find a pen in my console and ask her to repeat it.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Alieas

  Our conversation lasted surprisingly long. We spoke on our likes and dislikes. He promised to bring pictures of his little girl, so I could see what, or rather who, she looks like. I don't know how that's going to work, though. I'm thawing to the idea of being with a man who already has a child. And about being around the only female that holds his heart.

  A short time after I got off the telephone, my mother came in, holding lil' Gray by the hand. “Go, ahead on to the bathroom, baby. Grandma will be right here if you need anything,” she says to him. “So,” she let out, sitting down beside me, “he has a child?”

  “Yes,” I answer easily.

  “Where is her mother and how old is this child?”

  I shrug. “I'on know. And she's three. Mom, I know that you—”

  “Not this time,” she interrupts, taking me by the hands. "It's your life and your decision. It's up to you to choose if you want to become involved with a man who already has a child. You're a grown woman. I can't do anything but trust and believe that you know what to do to make you happy.”

  That's not what I was going to say but I thank my mother anyway.

  She pats and then squeezes my leg. “Did you tell him that you're conceited, temperamental, and have selfish tendencies?”

  I eye my mother questionably. All of my behavioral traits come directly from her. “Yes and no, but if he sticks around long enough, he'll find out,” I tell her in all seriousness.

  My mother and I have a close relationship. I can honestly say that she knows me better than anyone. As a child, I could always go to her with any and all of my problems and not be afraid to hold back anything. Of course, things back then were in no way as big and complicated as they are today. She was pissed the hell off when I came home crying again about Tony fuckin' around on me and when he decided to break up with me. My mom told me that Tony hadn't been good enough for me in the first place. SO FUCKIN' TRUE. She's real and that's what I love about her. Of course, she can be dramatic at times because she wants me to be as happy as she is. The search for a mate has become very serious in her eyes, but to be honest, I'm only about five minutes into my bitter 'Fuck dem niggas' stage.

  “Then he better start running fast,” she replies, hugging me.

  “Mom, I am exactly like you.” It's something my father always tells me.

  The disagreement comes quick. “Nawl, baby. You're just like your damn dad
dy.”

  “Riiight,” I agree sarcastically. Playfully, she slaps my leg.

  “Well,” she let out reluctantly, “maybe you get a little of your snootiness from me, but I have no idea where all those other annoying flaws came from.”

  “You love my annoying flaws,” I tease. “And there is nothing wrong with thinking highly of myself or wanting everyone else around me to know that I'm the sh— well, you know.” Then she raises her eyebrows at me and smiles. My mom likes when I get carried away enough to think that I’m chatting with one of my friends.

  “Yes, I know. Didn't I have to deal with it on a daily basis for over twenty years?”

  “Your duty,” I return. “I guess it is,” she complains playfully.

  Four

  Alieas

  Carter just arrived to pick me up and already, I feel that tonight is going to be a night to remember. He's dressed down in jeans, a black Ralph Lauren Polo shirt, and Timberland boots, which means that he hasn't fussed much over the night either. But the jewelry this man is wearing seems to tell a different story. The watch alone is iced out enough to cost as much as a house in the burbs. And now has me wanting to know if he's really a construction worker. They get money but not that damn much.

  Frowning slightly, I greet him with a, ‘Hello’. Approval is written all over his face as he looks at how my dirty denim boot-cut Lane Bryant jeans fit snuggly over my hips and ass. I'm dressed casually, for the most part, in a cream-colored off-the-shoulder, slit-sleeve peasant blouse Bri made for me, along with my jeans and Timberland wedges.

  “You look good,” he tells me, leaning down to kiss my cheek.

  I want to say, “I know' so badly”, but I just reply with a simple, "Thank you" and a smile.

  My mom told me that just for tonight, modesty is good in small doses.

  Surprisingly, Carter leads me to a black 2002 Chevy Impala instead of the Ford Explorer I’ d seen him in earlier.

  Two cars? He’s into something.

  "This your car too?" I ask him, not completely sure. Holding the car door open for me, he nods and closes the door once I sink into the plush leather seats. After he gets in the car, he stares at me for a couple of seconds and without saying anything, he starts up the car and pulls from in front of my apartment building.

  I wonder what he's waiting for to start a conversation. His eyes are focused on the streets but damn, I'm sure that he can still talk. I begin looking out my window and after a while, I can feel him staring me. It's like he keeps stealing glances my way.

  Did the cat get his tongue all of a sudden? Damn, do I always have to do all the work?

  “Why do you keep staring at me? What? You scared to talk now?

  “Nawl, I just wanted to enjoy quiet while I take in how good you look.”

  I laugh. I know cap up when I hear it.

  “Oh, is that right?” I question with no doubt that it is.

  “You know it is,” he replies, reaching for my hand with his free one.

  “What's up with you and this hand thing?” I ask as he wraps his hand around mine.

  “I wanna make sure they fit,” he tells me, intertwining our fingers.

  “You have entirely too much game for your own good.”

  “Nawl, I'm real and soon you'll find out that I'm just what you been looking for.”

  Okay, so this man is as smooth as greasy forehead skin, without blemishes, lathered down in Vaseline. He has all the right words, but we'll see what his actions are.

  “That's what I'm talkin' bout,” I confirm as he rubs his calloused thumb over my fingers. I love the way it feels. I love that shit period.

  “Females be trippin’. When we say something nice, y’all always wanna twist it around to mean something else. Anything I say to you will be the God's honest truth. A man’s word is his bond. If you don't do what you say in relationships, people end up getting hurt.”

  That quick? We have a relationship now? I roll my eyes because my dad says the ‘word is my bond’ all the time.

  I can't see his eyes, but I know that he's on that sincere ish again. “And they get their dicks cut off.” I’m not claiming to be Lorena Bobbitt or nothing but sometimes, you just have to put it out there. Carter looks over at me then with humor in his light brown eyes.

  “Yo, you crazy,” he laughs.

  I agree. “I sure am but if you don't mess with me, you won't have to find out just how crazy.”

  “I don't plan on it.” His head went back just an inch as he erupts in husky laughter.

  “Safer that way,” I remark, thinking I could fall in love with the sheer maleness of that laugh.

  He does that male nod of agreement. “What's the deal with you?” he asks me, turning very serious.

  “What do you mean, deal? What deal?”

  Amused, he gazes at me briefly and explains, “You asked me all my information. Give me some of yours.”

  “I told you a lot about me,” I object with innocent eyes.

  Carter flags his hand, sucks his teeth. “That's surface stuff. I wanna know the things that make you who you are and skip all the stuff about how you graduated at the top of your class.”

  I frown. I’m proud that I nearly graduated at the top of my class. At the same time, I understand what he means. “Well, I'm terrible to deal with when I'm on my period,” I joke. “Seriously, my whole life I've been first in everyone else’s. I'm spoiled, stubborn, conceited, temperamental, and very self-absorbed. My ego is huge. I have tendencies bordering on craziness, and I love it when I have people's undivided attention. For the most part, I'm cool as shit but in relationships, I have zero tolerance for bullshit. If you gon' be with me, you gon' come correct. That's the deal.”

  Girl, you’ve never been correct with no nigga until now.

  “Well,” he says with a shrug, “guess we gon’ have to see how to deal with that.”

  “You think you ready to take me on?” I tease as we stop at a red light. Carter turns his head and stares at me again, but he has the nerve to lick those damn ‘LL’ lips. His eyes are staring straight through me and the thumb that had been massaging my hand ceases.

  As the heat between us rises, my cheeks become flushed. I feel it coming and before it happens, I think that I'm prepared for it.

  Dead wrong.

  He lifts his hand to my face and leans forward. The coolness of his wintery fresh breath tickles my lips. As his lips descend upon mine for the first time, I feel that I’m going to have a meltdown. I can already tell that by the end of the night, I'll more than likely be wringing my panties dry. He gonna have me gushing.

  Carter must be an expert at kissing. His tongue is massaging my bottom lip and for one second, I yearn to taste it. My tongue sneaks out of my mouth to meet his. Before I know it, my eyes are closed and my mouth is being ravished by his.

  It has to be the most unlikely response for me because I generally don't kiss on the first date, but I’m too enraptured to stop it. Carter pulls away from him me, and I feel crazy ‘cause the last thing I want is distance between us.

  Heart beating fast, I revel in the aftermath, nowhere near sated. I want more but I pace myself.

  I have to act like a lady.

  “That was nice,” I murmur when the kiss is over and he drives through a light that we hadn't even noticed turned green. His eyes are on the road now, but he's talking to me about something sweet that my mind is too clouded and too hazy with lust to comprehend. I can see his lips moving but all I hear is, “I want you”; “you taste good”, and anything else I can think of along those lines.

  Being this close him is literally making me question all the inspiring quotes to not act like a hoe I told myself prior to him picking me up. Just looking at his triceps, biceps and all those other “ceps” are making me wonder what they’d be like banded around my body. I shift in my seat, squeeze my thighs together tighter and suppress a moan on the verge of escaping.

  Damn, I have to calm down. There is no way a small kiss s
hould have me like a dog in heat.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To grab a bite to eat.”

  I raise my perfectly arched eyebrows and ask, “I mean where are we getting something to eat from?”

  “This place I know in South Philly,” he says and after what looks like a moment of consideration on his part, he adds, “It's nothing fancy; in fact, it's a pickup window with an eating area outside.”

  I guess he's half-wanting me to expect more out of the evening than I should.

  “So we gon' grab some food and sit outside to eat?” I question with a slight frown.

  “You expected something else?” I could hear the edge in his voice and since I’m not really angry, I laugh.

  “No, it's cool. It's only the first date, so I'on expect you to go overboard.” Now, if this were any other nigga, I'd be telling him off right about now, thinking he can take me to some cheap ass takeout window.

  “So, you're saying that there'll be a next time?”

  “If you make sure I have a good time tonight,” I respond sassily.

  “I really want you to. I know you're used to guys treating you like a queen and all, but how about you try spending a real day outside your palace walls with me?”

  More game. He'll have to learn that I don't want an escape. I like being a queen; if he acts right, maybe I'll let him be my king. For a minute anyway.

  “You seem to have all the right lines,” I tell him.

  “I'm not even trying to run lines on you.”

  “Yeah, that's what you say. Where this place at anyway?”

  “Front and Oregon.”

  I nod. “I know where you're talking about. Some guy I used to mess with a long, long time ago took me down there.”

  “I been meaning to ask you something,” he starts.

  “What?”

  “Just how many guys were there? Are there?”

  “A couple. I've been dating for a minute.”

  “You still have a couple of friends then, huh?”

  If this is his way of asking me if there's anyone else, he could better. We'd talked about my relationship with Tony, but I didn't tell him about anyone else. First, because they're only friends and nothing more and second, because I really didn't have to.