Just Make Him Beautiful

by Warren, Mike

  “Well, Cameron, why are they playing these games?”

  “Momma, all I know is that Keith told Junior that he keeps his friends close but keeps his enemies closer. I suspect that I’m the enemy because they are afraid I will have Junior arrested. And if I do that, the police will also discover their involvement with drugs and killing people,” I started choking up.

  “All right, Cameron, it’s okay. They will get theirs. Trust Momma, you hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Now, is Keith there?”

  “No.”

  “Is Robin there?”

  “No.”

  “All right, baby. What I need you to do is put on some work clothes and let him see just how hard you work in keeping his shit clean. I don’t care what time he gets in, he needs to see you working your fingers to the bone, and then and only then can you talk to him about hiring a maid. Once he agrees, I’ll take it from there.”

  “Okay, Momma, I will. Tell Keisha I said hello and give her a kiss for me.”

  “Will do, baby. Call me tomorrow and let me know what he said.”

  “Okay, Momma. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  After we hung up, I couldn’t help but smile because I found out that my momma was a piece of work and not to be fucked with. She was such a strong woman. I wished I could be more like her.

  I opened my closet door to try to find some dirty clothes I could put on, so I could show Keith just how hard I worked in keeping his house clean. I found the old dirty jeans I had worn when I ran off to the shelter. I thought I had thrown them away because I had vowed to never wear them again. But I was glad I didn’t because I couldn’t find anything else. Anyway, I put them on with an old sweat shirt that I tore up.

  It was a little after midnight, and I still didn’t know what time Keith would be coming in. I rushed downstairs to scrub the kitchen floor and, much to my surprise, ran into Ms. Fag-hag studying at the kitchen table.

  “Hi, Cameron,” she stated, all perky and shit.

  “Hey,” I responded, not wanting to be bothered.

  She looked at clock on the wall. “Why are you up so late?”

  “Because these floors are filthy. And since I’m the only one around here that does any cleaning, they won’t get done until I do them.” I took a bucket out from the base of the kitchen sink.

  “Well, Cameron, I don’t see where the floors are all that dirty,” she replied, looking down at the kitchen floor.

  “Look, all you do around here is eat, sleep, and fuck, so mind your business, okay,” I stated, rolling my neck, my hands on my hips.

  “Well, I was just saying…I don’t know why we can’t get along. We used to be the best of friends.”

  “Yeah, we were. Until you started fucking my man.

  She sucked her teeth. “Well, he couldn’t have been much of your man if he wanted me.”

  I wanted to take this bucket of water with suds as I stood there at the kitchen sink and dump it over her head. But I was curious to find out why she was doing what she was doing and who made the first move.

  “Why, Robin? Why would you do that to a friend like me?”

  “It wasn’t my intentions, Cam. It just happened.” She stood up and came over to me.

  “Oh, so his dick just happened to fall in your pussy by accident. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “No.”

  “So, how did it happen?”

  She didn’t respond, but it seemed as though she was thinking.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Okay, you wanna know? I’ll tell you. Remember that day you called me and told me you had moved in with Keith?”

  “Yeah. Go on.”

  “Well, I had been so busy with school and with dating this guy, you and I hadn’t had much time together. And my mom had told me that you had stopped by to see me a few times, but I was never there. So, this one day, I really needed to talk to you because the guy I was dating had been killed. I was so upset that I came by here to see if you were here, but you weren’t. Keith answered the door and remembered who I was. He invited me in to wait for you. He saw how upset I was. I started talking to him about it, and he began comforting me. And one thing led to another.”

  “Oh, so now I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?” I asked, looking at her crocodile tears.

  “No, but I thought you would be a little more understanding.”

  “Understanding? Girlfriend, if you want me to be a little bit more understanding, you need to move out, leave my man alone, and carry yo’ fat ass back home.”

  “But I love him, and he loves me!” she screamed, as the tears continued to pour down her face.

  “Chile boo, you don’t know what love is,” I said, getting in her face.

  “Whoa!” Keith walked into the kitchen. He looked at Robin then at me. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” I began to move the kitchen table to the side, so I could start scrubbing the floor.

  “Robin, what’s going on, babe?” he asked, wiping away her fake tears.

  “Nothing, babe.” She hugged him. “I’m just feeling a little emotional right now, that’s all. How was your night?”

  “It was good, it was good,” he answered, hugging her back.

  “Keith, when you get a chance, I really need to talk to you about something.” I started slinging a wet mop across the floor, splashing them both.

  He quickly moved out of my way. “Sure. Wassup, shawty?”

  “We can talk later,” I said, rolling my eyes at Robin.

  “Well, whatever you gotta say to me, you can say in front of Robin. We are one big happy family, aren’t we?” He took a drink out of the refrigerator.

  “Hmmm, so we are,” I said, wanting to throw up. “Look, this is a big house, and I have been trying my best to keep it clean. Nobody around here helps me do that. I do most of the cooking as well as the cleaning and I’m tired.”

  Keith chuckled. “What do you want me to do, shawty? Help?”

  “No, I wanna hire a maid.” I wiped the sweat from my forehead.

  “A maid?”

  “Yes, a maid. Someone who comes in a few times a week. They cook, they clean, you pay them, and they go home. I can’t keep doing this by myself.”

  “Yes, Keith,” Robin chimed in, trying to get on my good side. “I think that’s a good idea.”

  I swear, that bitch just don’t know.

  “Okay, why not. Hire us a maid, shawty.” Keith picked Robin up and carried her upstairs with him.

  Well, I can’t say that him taking her upstairs didn’t bother me because it did and not because of jealousy or personal feelings. I guess it was a matter of Keith preferring her over me most of the time.

  I was happy that Keith had agreed that I could hire a maid. I couldn’t wait to call Momma in the morning to let her know. Honey, you talking about Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner. How about, “Guess who’s cooking dinner?”

  Chapter 20

  Today was the day Momma was to come by in full disguise and meet the one big happy family. The only thing Keith didn’t want the maid to know was that he swung both ways. So, Robin was to play his wife, and I was to play her cousin from California. Whateva.

  Anyway, Momma was going to be Ms. Annabelle Stewart from Columbia, South Carolina, and she had been staying here in Omaha for the past eleven years taking care of her son and his family. Chile, I was hoping I could remember all this shit. Anywho, I had asked Keith and Robin to be here at the house by five p.m. because Ms. Stewart would be stopping by to formally meet them.

  The three of us sat in the living room drinking a glass of wine and chitchatting while waiting on Momma. Of course, I didn’t have much to say. I was so nervous, I kept looking at the clock on the wall every two seconds.

  Suddenly, the intercom buzzed, and I almost peed on myself. I pressed the button to open the gate because I knew it wasn’t anyone else but Momma.

  “That must be Ms. Stewar
t,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. I got up and answered the front door.

  Chile, I opened the door, and my mouth fell open. The woman that stood in front of me looked nothing like my mother. She had on this old, tired, gray-ass wig, which looked like she had it on backwards, and a brown plaid church mother dress. And to top things off, she had on these black orthopedic quarter inch-heel shoes. I swear, Momma looked like she was every bit of sixty years old.

  She first looked at me, smiling and winking. She said with a strong Southern drawl, “Hello, Mr. Jenkins. It’s so nice seeing you again.”

  “Same here, Ms. Stewart.” I let her in, trying my best not to laugh. “Ms. Stewart, let me introduce you to my cousin Robin and her husband Keith.”

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Stewart,” they both said in unison.

  “Aw, it’s so nice to meet you young chirren, but y’all don’t have to call me Ms. Stewart. Just call me Momma. That’s what e’rybody calls me, yup.”

  I invited Momma to have a seat on the couch and offered her something to drink as well.

  “Yes, baby, I’d like to have a glass of ice cold water if ya got it. Now, you don’t half to go ta no trouble on my account, but when you get my age, ya have ta make sho all ya fluids are running. So, I drink water e’ry chance I get, you know. Well, I guess you young’uns don’t know. Oh well.”

  I went to the kitchen to get Momma some ice water and was cracking up. Momma was putting on a true performance. I couldn’t believe it was her. If she could fool me, I knew she could fool Robin as well.

  I got back into the living room with Momma’s water.

  Keith asked, “Ms. Stewart…I mean, Momma, how old are you?”

  “I’m sixty-two years young, baby.”

  “Well, don’t you think you’re a lil too old?” he asked.

  “Hell naw, baby. I’m as lively as they come. You wanna race out to da gate?” Momma asked in a serious tone, standing up and challenging Keith.

  One hour or so into our conversation, Momma had us cracking up, easily winning Keith and Robin over with her wit, Southern accent, and sense of humor.

  But then Robin said, “Momma, I don’t mean to stare at you, but you look so familiar.”

  I became so nervous. I dropped my wineglass right on the floor.

  Everyone looked at me, including Momma, who gave me the look that said everything was gonna be all right.

  “Aw, baby, peoples tells me that all the time. I’m always looking like somebody’s grandmother, aunt, or neighbor dat lives up da street or someting,” Mommy said, putting the focus back on her while I cleaned up my mess.

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Robin said.

  Keith got up to refresh his cocktail. “Momma, would you like to have something a little stronger than that water you been drinking?”

  “Well, I don’t usually drink, but e’ry now and ’gain I will take a little taste, you know for my rheumatism,” she replied, rubbing her leg.

  “Would you like some wine?” Keith asked.

  “That would be nice, but I see you got some gin over dere too.”

  “Ooo, I’m scared of you.” Keith laughed. “Gin on the rocks coming up.”

  “Naw, baby, I ain’t said nuf’n ’bout no ice.” Momma turned and looked at him. “Did you hear me say ice?”

  “Straight gin it is.” Keith chuckled. “So, Momma, when can you start?”

  “Well, first, lemme say I can only work Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, from nine a.m. to three p.m., ’cause I gotta watch Oprah. She comes on at four p.m. You know dat, right?”

  Keith handed Momma her drink.

  “Dang, Momma!” Robin said, pouting. “Don’t seem as though I will get a chance to see much of you because those are the days I’m in class.”

  “Don’t you frit none, baby girl. You’s get dat edumacation.” Momma looked at me. “Edumacation comes in pretty handy in dese here times.”

  Robin sucked her teeth. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  Time was going by so fast that before anybody knew it, it was almost eleven p.m. Momma said good night to everyone, gave us all a hug and kiss, and left.

  I wanted to know what Robin and Keith really thought of Momma. “Well, what do you guys think?”

  Interestingly enough, they both loved her. I was glad to hear that because now I could have her here and spend more time with her without raising suspicion. Also, I wasn’t sure all of what Momma had planned, but I did what she asked, and that was to get her in the house.

  *

  You know, every now and then, I would still wake up in a cold sweat, dreaming about Ray, and seeing that guy that Keith had shot in the face and his blood gushing out onto me.

  Tonight was one of those nights. I looked over on my dresser at the clock that read 2:45 a.m. I tossed and turned but couldn’t go back to sleep. I sat up in my bed and wanted to call someone just to talk, but I didn’t have anybody to call. I felt so lonely.

  I then remembered the guy I had met at the filling station while I was getting some gas a few months ago.

  “Dayum! What was his name?” I said to myself.

  I jumped out of bed to see if I still had his number in my bag. I threw everything in my bag out on my bed, and there was his card. “Zachary Davis, that was his name,” I said to myself.

  Would it be right to call someone this time of morning? I thought. I sat back up in the bed, grabbed my cell, and dialed the number. Someone picked up on the fourth ring.

  “Hello,” a groggy voice said.

  “Umm, can I speak to Zachary, please?” I asked, feeling bad for calling so late.

  “Speaking. Who is this?”

  “Umm, this is Cameron. I met you a few months ago at the BP gas station up on Crane Highway.” I bit my bottom lip, hoping he would remember me.

  “Yeah, I think so. You’re the light-skin shawty with the braids, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said, feeling good about him remembering who I was. “Well, I had braids, but I’ve since taken them out of my hair. Now my hair is kinda short.”

  Zack cleared his throat. “What time is it?”

  “I’m sorry. It is kinda late.”

  “Naw, shawty, it’s cool. I was just wondering what time it was.”

  “It’s after three in the morning. I was up and couldn’t go to sleep,” I stated, trying to start a conversation.

  “That’s cool. So, why can’t you sleep?” he said in his now sexy voice.

  “It’s kind of a long story, and I’m sure you’re not really interested.”

  “Sure, I am. It’s Saturday morning and I’m off, so tell me.”

  I told Zachary, or Z, as he preferred to be called, the story about my older brother being murdered almost five years ago. I didn’t bother to go into all the gory details, nor did I tell him about my current situation with Keith. I didn’t want to turn the guy completely off.

  But we talked for hours. I learned that he and his lover broke up a couple of years ago. He was thirty-three years of age and a Libran, planet Venus, goddess of love, and he loved being a lawyer. He also told me his parents were aware of his sexual preference and were fine with it. They actually loved his former lover and used to call him their son as well.

  It had been so long since I had just talked to another guy. You know what I mean? And it felt so dayum good. There was nothing sexual about our conversation, but I was totally turned on.

  Z had invited me over his house later this evening for dinner and to watch a movie. We eventually hung up as the morning sun came shining through my bedroom blinds. I tossed and turned but still couldn’t go to sleep. Fortunately, this time, it was because of my excitement and not my loneliness. I couldn’t wait to see Z.

  *

  That evening I pulled up to the address Z had given me. Omaha can be somewhat confusing because it has a lot of small suburban areas, but this was the exact address. I questioned it only because it was in a very poor area of town, and Z being a lawyer, I thought
perhaps he would be living in a better neighborhood.

  Well, maybe he isn’t a very good lawyer.

  Anyway, it wasn’t about material possessions. This was about meeting a new friend and spending time with that person. So, I parked the car, looked into my rearview mirror, making sure I didn’t put too much foundation on and that my hair was in place. I was nervous and excited all at the same time.

  I didn’t know what Z was going to make for dinner, but I did bring a bottle of white wine just for the occasion. I grabbed the wine that I placed in the passenger seat and made my way up the few steps to the front door.

  The house was a traditional-style two-story house. The roof looked to be in bad shape because some of the shingles had fallen onto the porch. The house was painted in a gray OD-type color, and the windows were outlined in a dark purple color.

  Ewww, I thought to myself as I stood there ringing the doorbell. The house was attached to a house on either side. The windows of the house on the left were open, and I picked up a smell, as though someone was trying to cook, but whatever it was, it smelled awful. And in the house on the right, it sounded as though some woman was beating and cussing out her small child. I felt sorry for the child because she/he was screaming their asses off.

  Come on, Z, answer this dayum door.

  After ringing the doorbell a few times and knocking on the door, I became disappointed, feeling as though I had been stood up.

  Just as I was walking down the steps to get in my car to leave, Z pulled up and got out of his car.

  “Hey, Cameron, I’m so sorry. I had to stop at the store to pick up a couple of things at the last minute. I should have known a brotha like you would be on time.” He started getting some grocery bags out of his car.

  “Oh, it’s cool. Would you like some help with the bags?”

  “Naw, I got it.” Z opened the door for me. “Come on in.”

  I entered into his place, and to be honest, the inside didn’t look any better. Now, I was truly not a bogey type of person, although I couldn’t help that I had good taste. But as I looked around at Z’s home, I started to wonder why they hadn’t condemned this place before it fell on its own. It appeared to only be standing on a wing and a prayer anyhow.