Authors: Lori D. Johnson
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 face. “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.
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 you 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.”
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.
But instead of ushering me in out of the rain, Faye reached for the sack I was holding. In handing it over, I told her there was enough inside for the both of us if she felt at all like sharing. Then I stood there for a moment, staring and looking stupid, I’m sure. Finally, I said, “I guess you’re not up to having a slice with me right now, huh?”
When all I got from her was a shrug, I nodded and turned to leave. A flash of lightning lit up the path that led back to my car and I was about to pick up the pace when I thought I heard her call my name.
I glanced over my shoulder, and sure enough, her mouth
seemed to be moving, but I couldn’t quite make out what she was saying for all the thunder and the sudden downpour of rain. When I trotted back up to the porch, she pushed open the door and shouted down at me, “It’s starting to look pretty bad out here. Maybe you ought to come in—at least until things die down a bit.”
Dude’s kitchen is where I found myself once I stepped inside. And let me tell you, man, I’ve never seen anything like it outside of an episode of
How I’m Living.
I’m talking granite countertops galore, wood floors polyurethaned so tough you could practically see your reflection in them, cherrywood cabinets, top-of-the-line appliances, recessed lighting, and more. All I could say was, “Dag, this boy really does have it going on, huh?”
In total awe of all the space, wealth, and luxury, I was just standing there trying to take it all in—with my mouth open, no doubt, when some of the water dripping off my head made its way into my eyes. “Here, let me,” Faye said, coming to my rescue with a big, fluffy dish towel that smelled like it had never been used.
While she dabbed my face, my neck, my head, around my ears, and across my brow, I shut my eyes and quietly reveled in the warm caress of her breath on my skin. My mind became little more than a jumble of Faye-centered thoughts. I started thinking about that evening she’d made me let her in so she could help me with my son, Benjamin; the day we’d spent at the amusement park; and the night we’d made out on my sofa after the Jarreau concert. I started thinking about the naked press of her body against mine; the pinch of her nails on my back; the run of my tongue along her thigh; and that doggone dance that had started it all.
I’m not sure what she was thinking or feeling while I stood there fighting against the urge to pull her into my arms and tell her just how bad I’d been missing her, but when she finally lowered the towel and spoke to me, her
tone was considerably softer than it had been before. “There’s coffee if you want some, or I could make tea if you like.”
“No, coffee’s good,” I told her.
While she busied herself with the cake and the brew, I made a beeline for the fancy sound system I spotted near the kitchen table and popped in the
Love and Happiness
CD I’d brought in with me. I’m saying, man, she owed me a dance and I had every intention of getting it. After lowering the volume on the music until it was just a hum, I sat down at the table and tried not to let my nerves get the best of me.
I was sitting there, playing with the oversize number 42 candle that had been on my cake when I noticed Faye staring at me from the other side of the room. She said, “I suppose this whole new-look thing was your girlfriend’s, excuse me, I mean Victoria’s, idea?”
I said, “No, not all of it. Really, just the earrings. The rest I came up with on my own. Why? You think it makes me look stupid or something?”
She bit her lip and spent a few seconds mulling either the question or her answer before she said, “No, actually I think it’s kind of cute. A bald head does you justice.”