Best Dressed Lie (Keisha Jackson) (3 page)

“Well,” he explained, “I had the lube while watching
online porn, and I accidently left the toys out while pulling
out old VHS tapes from the closet. Chico thought they were his
toys so he...”
“You let, the dam dog play with my personal things!” I
said, aiming the dildo at his face. “And what do you mean
online porn?”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with looking at a sexy woman’s
physique,” he said, proudly. “You won’t let me look at your
heavy; I meant sexy ass, so why not.”
He knew I was very sensitive about my weight. I tried
every existing diet trying to please him. I could not do this
anymore. I could not allow him to hurt me any longer; the
emotional abuse was getting out of hand.
I walked off, reaching into my pocket for my phone. I had
to call somebody, anybody, to rescue me from his ass before I
killed him. I called my best friend Zan.
Zan is my sexy, plus-sized ride or die chick. She loved her
cigarettes and Margaritas occasionally, as long as she was not
buying. She was very ghetto and said whatever came to her
mind. She loved drama and loved sticking her nose in my
business, especially when it came to Randy.
She and I first met at the foster home. She had no choice
but to stay there until a family adopted her or until she turned
eighteen, just like me. She looked out for me every step of the
way. The home was overcrowded and rundown. The heat
never worked in the winter and the air-conditioner never
worked in the summer. The exterior was dingy white and we
didn’t have windows.
I remember when we were around thirteen years old;
there was a security guard on the night shift named Earl. He
was a white, pimped-out midget with rotten teeth. He called
me ‘Pretty Girl’ and Zan ‘Sunshine’. He stole cookies from the
pantry for us in the middle of the night. We got use to him
coming to our room with the cookies. One night he came to
our room without the cookies. Instead, He tried to make us
perform oral sex on him. I was crying and frighten. Zan on
the other hand was ready to fight him. She combined a can of
oil-sheen and fire from her stolen lighter. She tried to set his
ass on fire, but didn’t succeed. He never bothered us again.
After that night, we vowed to stick together no matter what.
After the foster home released us, we went our separate
ways. She wanted to go east and I wanted to go south. She
moved to New York in hopes of landing a good job and I
stayed in Georgia because that was where I was born and
raised and I wanted to try to find my sister.
Seven years later, we met again at a club in Georgia; the
exact same club and night she introduced me to Randy. She
regretted it to this day. She told me the reason she moved to
Georgia was to find a good white man. With no luck, she
stuck to me like glue. After hearing all the commotion about
Randy’s cheating scandals, she tried not to socialize with him
at all. She literally hated him.
She answered, yawning in my ear, “Hello?”
“Zan,” I yelled through the phone.
“Will you stop screaming in my damn ear? What?”
“I need you to come and pick me up, right now!”
“Pick you up from where?” she asked with an attitude.
“From home, this muthafucka done lost his mind,” I said
angrily.
“Why you can’t drive your ass over here in his car? And
please don’t tell me it’s another argument,” she said before I
could answer the first question.
“Zan, get your butt over here. You know that whenever I
want to hang out with you, he comes up with every excuse
not to let me use the car.”
I figured I’d fill her in on everything once she arrived.
Besides, I knew his ass was in the other room listening. If he
knew I was trying to hang out with her, he’d think of
somewhere to go just to keep me from using the car.
“Listen, I worked graveyard shift last night, and to be
honest with you, I don’t have time for the BS between you and
Randy,” she said, annoyed.
“I stopped by your house after I got off work this morning.
I wanted to use the phone because my battery died in my cell
phone and did you know that he made me pay him to use the
damn phone? I can’t stand his broke ass.”
“Just come get me, I’m buying us a couple of shots!” I said.
I did not feel like hearing her bash Randy for the fiftieth
time. I had a headache already from his annoying griping.
“Fine! I’m on my way. I’m blowing the horn one time,
‘
Ms.-never-is-ready
,” she said, hanging up in my ear.
Despite the arguing, I knew I needed to apologize and
force myself to give up a little poo-nanny to get on Randy’s
good side. That was the only thing that calmed him down and
kept him from blowing up. I desperately need this time with
Zan to vent about him and our problems.
“Keisha,” Randy yelled. “Who are you on the phone with?”
These walls were paper-thin, so I knew his slick, earhustling ass heard my conversation. He was waiting for me to
lie so that he could start another damn argument before I left.
I was not giving his ass shit.
“Randy, baby,” I said in a high pitch tone. “Why didn’t you
tell me Zan stopped by?”
“All of a sudden I’m your baby?” he asked suspiciously,
ignoring the question about Zan.
I forced my laugh as I walked towards the bedroom, “Zan
wants me to ride with her to have a drink,” I lied.
“Do you see what time it is?” he nagged, looking at his
watch. “Yep, seven pm and I’m an adult, who doesn’t need
your approval to come home late. I do it out of respect, but
since you’re coming at me with a controlling attitude, I’ll get
here, when I get here.”
Randy was vying for an argument and I was falling right
into his trap. Something unusual and major was going on
with him however. He was sweating like a pig and the
temperature in the house was cool.
“Why are you sweating?” I asked concerned, feeling his
forehead. “I’m good,” he said, moving my hand and staring at
the screen on the TV. “Go ahead with your plans. Since our
relationship problems don’t matter to you, go ahead and tell
all our problems to your senseless, single friend Zan.”
I knew where this was going, every time I tried hanging
out with any of my friends, he sent me on a guilt trip, but this
time I was not falling for it. I walked towards the closet as if I
didn’t hear his whining.
“Where is my black sweater?” I mumbled under my
breath. If he only knew I really needed this me time for my
sanity just to keep from blowing up on his ass. He was too
selfish to realize it.
“I’m laying up here sweating, damn near about to die. On
top of that, we just finished arguing and you’re worried about
your stupid-ass friend,” he yelled, sitting on the side of the
bed.
I was
about
to sit down beside him, to explain
my
reasoning for having a girls night out, but he started yelling
again.
“Bye. Get out of my face!”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” he said, surprised.
I was not about to him sympathy. I grabbed my sweater
and headed for the door. Zan needed to get here now! For
once in this relationship, I wanted to go out and enjoy myself
with peace of mind. He wanted to argue and get me upset as
usual. “I know what you’re trying to do Randy. It’s a shame
that you will do whatever it takes to spoil my day. Ole selfish
ass!” He was ready to jump in my face to retaliate.
Beep, beep, beep! Zan drove up pressing the horn as if she
saw a prisoner escaping. “Right on time,” I muttered. “Zan’s
here. I’ll be home late,” I said moving away in a hurry, looking
back towards the bed and at him.
He flung his hand up, responding with an attitude. “Bye
and take all your shit with you.”
I knew what that tone of voice was about and I was not
about to entertain it. “Have it packed for me by the time I get
back,” I yelled. He didn’t respond and I couldn’t care less. I
was happy to get as far away from him as I could.

I stepped out the front door onto the screened porch, the
sun was a giant, scorching, ball beaming into my face; it was
damn near 100 degrees outside. Zan sat in her 1990s pink
Honda civic. She was cursing and fussing. She was wearing
her white frame shades and she sported a new Halley Berry
cut. A cigarette sat in the corner of her mouth, hands free,
causing her left eye to squint from the acrid smoke.

“Keisha, now you know my back seat windows do not let
down,” she shouted, through the cracked front window. “I
don’t have enough gas to run my A/C, so hurry the hell up!”

“I’m coming,” I said in a high-pitched tone, walking in a
hurry towards the passenger side as fast my six-inch red
pumps let me. As soon as I climbed into the car, the stench
from her damn cigarette gagged me. “Dang, we need to let this
car air out. Here,” I said, handing her ten dollars for gas, “so
we will be able to turn on the A/C.”

“Ten dollars,” she said, ungratefully. “Keisha is you
serious? What am I going to do with ten damn dollars? Do
you realize gas in Georgia is almost four dollars a gallon? This
will only get us out of your driveway.” She was peeping out of
her shades and rolling her eyes.

Zan rode with the gas needle on empty 90 percent of the
time; she depended on others to fill her car up. She bought
cigarettes and got her hair done before she put any fuel in her
car. “Do we have enough gas to make it to the ATM?” I asked,
giving her the side eye.

After inhaling two puffs from her cigarette and in between
blowing the smoke she said “Yeah,” with a smirk on her face. I
knew her ass was down for that. She pulled off so quickly, she
almost backed into a ditch.

We were driving 35 miles per hour in a 55 zone. She liked
to creep while she smoked her cigarettes, I didn’t know why.
She claimed she got a speeding ticket years ago in New York
and was paranoid ever since about smoking and driving.

“Can we go any faster?” I asked, covering my nose; the car
reeked. “Hell no, is you going to pay my ticket for me if I get
stopped by the police?” she said, hanging her arm out of the
window, flicking ashes. “You stay in the white folk’s
neighborhood! I have to be careful around here.”

In the midst of Zan complaining, I couldn’t jump right
into the Randy and me drama. I tried to be patient and simply
tune her ass out. Staring out the window, I noticed a black,
four
door Nissan Maxima with tinted windows
into the
turning lane. Before the arrow signal turned green, we caught
a glimpse of someone starring at us through the tint. They just
sat there. The car did not budge.

“Who is that?” Zan asked, pulling her shades off to get a
clearer view. “Don’t know, don’t care,” I said, sarcastically.
“Is it a woman or man?” she said, stroking her hair.
All of a sudden, the car sped off on yellow. I did not want
Zan to notice my curiosity, but deep in my heart, I felt like it
was just another tramp Randy was sleeping with, stalking us. I
changed the subject, making a way to my venting mode.
“How far is the damn ATM? Are we headed to the bar
instead of going to the bank?”
“I’m about to follow that car,” she said, ignoring my
questions and discerning my thoughts.
“I’m not happy, Zan,” I said, hoping she didn’t get
annoyed. I needed to get this off my chest.
“What are you talking about?” she asked quickly. “Damn
it, I lost the car!”
Whenever you want Zan’s attention, complain about
leaving your man. She’d put her cigarette out for that.
“Lately I’ve been feeling sick and depressed,” I said,
breaking into tears. “I can’t get myself motivated to do
anything. As soon as I wake up in the morning, I want to pull
the cover over my head and just lay there. I literally drag
myself out of bed to get ready for work. I’ve been having bad
cramps and body aches all of a sudden. Every day after work,
Randy and I argue about every little thing.”
“Like what?” she asked, looking up and down the street
trying to figure out which way the suspicious car turned.
“He calculates how long it should take me to get home
from work. Zan, I have to hide things I buy from him.”
“What does buying yourself nice things, have to do with
him?”
“He feels like all my money should go towards the bills.”
“Oh hell no! You need to leave him or have a sit down
with him, Keisha. I’ve forever and a day made it clear I’m not
a Randy fan, but both of you really need to make it work or
just let each other go.”
“I don’t trust him. I never even want to have sex with him
anymore. It’s almost like I have to force the sex to calm his ass
down.”
“Keisha, you’ve been unhappy for a while now. I don’t
understand how you can stay with someone like that. You
give him all of you, so there is nothing left to fight with. That’s
why he feels like he can cheat on you in public with other
women. You let him get away with way too much.”
“Cheating that only you and the street committee hear
about and see; you’ll never understand why I’m with him. No
one will,” I responded, wiping the tears from my eyes. “I’m so
miserable and I don’t know how to fix this.”
“Keisha, don’t cry. You have to have faith and ask God to
give you the strength to move on; and yes, I heard about it and
yes, I’ve seen it. I am your best friend and I don’t have a
reason to lie on that loser. If I knew he was like this, I would
have never introduced you to him. You can do better, Keisha.
Do you love him that much to accept the pain he puts you
through?”
“Yes, I do love him but I’m not in love with him anymore.
No matter what I do it’s never good enough for him. He
complains about my weight, tells me constantly that I am too
heavy; especially when I’m on top of him during sex. I have
given all that I can give to this reckless relationship. He
doesn’t want to commit and he belittles me all the time; you’ve
seen that. All I want from him now is financial help to find my
sister, like he promised.”
“Yeah, he does say mean things about your weight in front
of whoever is around when he gets pissed. He is also five years
younger than you are and has a lot of growing up to do. As far
as your sister, why is it so important to you to find her? Her
adopted family left you in that place for nearly fourteen years.
Who knows what type of message they are giving her about
you. They may have told her she doesn’t have any siblings.”
“Yeah, you may be right, but, without any family in my
life, I feel alone, especially knowing there is another part of
me out there. I truly believe that once she’s found, I’ll feel
complete.”
“Keisha, hire someone to help you find your sister.”
“I’ve gotten myself into so much debt. With all of these
garnishments and student loans deducted from my paycheck
every week, I can’t afford to be on my own and I definitely
can’t afford a private investigator.”
“Keisha, you can afford to live on your own. Shit, if I can
be on my own making way less than you, with more bills, you
can do it too. You should find yourself a small one-bedroom
apartment,” she said, sympathetically. “I’ll help you look for a
place or you can stay with me.”
“I really need to find a place?” I said, sarcastically ignoring
the fact she said I could stay with her. She smoked inside and
had a house full of sickly looking cats. I would rather be
unhappy and stay with him.
“Hey, it may not be the area that you want, but living on
your own will give you peace of mind. Besides, you are an
office
manager
for goodness
sakes! You
can afford an
apartment.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” I said. “I refuse to spend
another five years being miserable. I have plans to marry and
have kids, and not with someone who tears down my selfesteem daily.”
“Well, whatever you decide, I’m here for you. Maybe you
should get the aches and cramps checked by a doctor, you
could be pregnant,” she said sincerely, wiping my tears with
her thumbs.
“I doubt if I’m pregnant, we barely have sex Zan.”
“Okay, well you still need to see a doctor. I’ll go with you if
need me too.”
I loved her so much; she was there for me. I didn’t know
what I would do without her. She understood me. It was hard
to find great friends and this one would always be in my life.
One thing I knew for sure, she would never betray me; I
trusted her with my life.
“Zan,” I sobbed some more.
“Keisha, stop crying now. Let’s have a little fun,” she said,
aggravated and frustrated.
“There is more. I didn’t want to mention this, but I found
naked pictures in his phone.”
“Naked pictures? When!” she snapped.
“Three weeks ago,” I said, choked up. “He came home late
and left his phone on the table before taking a shower.”
“Home late then straight to the shower, he cheated,” she
interrupted.
“Stay focused and listen!”
“Okay, Okay.”
“Like I was saying, he left his phone and I broke his
passcode.”
“How?”
“Guys have a bad memory when it comes to codes, so nine
times out of ten, their passcode is always the last four digits of
their social security number, the year they were born or the
month and date they were born. But in his case, it was the
year his grandmother died; nineteen ninety.”
“Darn, you’re good,” she said, staring at me for more. All
she needed was a bag of popcorn. “What did you see ?”
“A picture of a black, shaved pussy, that’s what I saw!” I
said, furious, re-experiencing it.
“The way you just described that, gave me a heartbeat
down there.”
“Freak, this is not a joking matter.”
“Just kidding,” she laughed.
“I will always wonder who she was or is for that matter.
It’s a possibility he might be screwing her,” I said, hoping Zan
wanted to help me come up with a plan to catch his ass.
“He is mighty bold to have a whore send him pictures. I
don’t see how you kept that to yourself.”
“What woman in her right mind is going to send naked
pictures to a person’s phone, if he is not screwing her.”
“How do you know that? Some of his homeboys could
have texted him the picture,” Zan said, trying to make the
situation better, which shocked the hell out of me, considering
she hated him.
“I checked that already,” I said, confidently. “It was a saved
pic and the phone number the picture was sent from was a
pay-as-you-go phone. All of his boys have phone plans with
their carrier. Hell, I even looked at the phone bill to try to find
out who she was. That same number is on there during the
day, when I’m at work.”
Zan could not believe what she was hearing. She knew
about
the bickering
and accusations
of him cheating.
However, I never vented about not being happy or finding
possible proof of him cheating. I always believed not to ever
put friends in my personal business, no matter how close we
are. The last thing I wanted was my best friend knowing how
much more of an asshole my boyfriend really was. The result
would be her looking at him sideways when he and I were in
a good place. One thing I knew for sure, friends never forget
the past no matter how good the relationship gets.
“Sneaky Bastered,” she mumbled under her breath. “I will
help you get through this, but first we need to find out who
she is.” She pounded her soft pack of cigarettes against the
back of her thumb, craving one.
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” I said.
“I’m down for this, when do we start?” she said, lighting
her cigarette. I was so ready to dig right into this plot.
“I’ve come up with the idea of finding out who was calling
our phone anonymously. I plan on finding someone who
works for our phone carrier to try to get the name and
address of the caller.”
“That’s not possible Keisha. I don’t recommend this idea;
you are putting someone’s job on the line. You should focus
on the number on the bill and worry about the anonymous
caller later.”
Zan’s response to my suggestion was shocking because she
was always down for whatever, especially when it came to me
possibly leaving Randy. This time it seemed like she was
shutting down on me.
“The phone numbers are no longer in use, I called this
morning. Besides, it won’t put their jobs on the line. No one
will ever find out about this,” I said defensively .
Before Zan could respond, her phone rang. “Who is this?”
she said casually, puckering her brows staring at the caller ID.
“Are you going to answer that?” I asked, curiously.
“My stomach hurts. It feels like I got to shit,” she blurted
out, ignoring me.
“We’ve been driving around all this time; we’re nowhere
near the bar. Looks like Sam’s Club is on the far right, I’m sure
they have a public restroom,” I said.
We pulled over and for some odd reason Zan wanted me
to stay in the car. “I’ll be right back after I’m done using the
restroom. Indeed to return Jason’s foster parents call in
private.”
Zan told me she was beaten, raped and ended up pregnant
during her stay in New York. She gave birth to her son a
couple of years before we reunited. Not having the means to
take care of him, she arranged for an open adoption. She
mentioned that she wanted a better life for her son and I
commended her for that. The foster parents allowed her to be
in his life with visitation rights.
“Okay, take your time,” I said.
Her being out of my sight gave me the opportunity to get
this phone number investigation going. Since Zan was against
it, I would keep the plan to myself. I knew the perfect person
to research this information for me and her name is Kayla
Richards.
Kayla was
a young,
conceited, sexy man-eater
from
Florida. She dated older men and women occasionally. She did
not like folks in her business and she never talked about her
love life to anyone other than me.
She was the type of chick that got what she wanted in a
manipulative way. She loved drama. She worked with me
until about 3 weeks ago when she resigned. She went to work
for a wireless phone company. I was hoping she would do this
favor for me as thanks for me looking out for her when the
company nearly fired her ass for taking too many smoke
breaks. I also let her borrow $500 to get an abortion and she
never paid me back.
I dialed her number.
“Hello?” she answered, coughing and gagging.
“Kayla, are you okay?” I said, frowning after hearing all of
her hacking and coughing, I wanted hang up.
She paused before asking, “Who is this?”
“This Keisha, Keisha Jackson. We use to work together,
remember?”
“Ohhhhhh Keisha. How have you been chick?”
Kayla did not sound too happy hearing from me. I didn’t
have time for the pettiness, I got straight down to business.
Not wanting to go straight to asking for string pulling, I
responded nicely, “Things could be better. How’s the new
job?”
“Chile, I have my good days and bad days,” she said. “What
about you? Are you still holding it down at the clinic?”
“Barely, we’re short staffed, meaning I’m left with all the
damn work.”
“Girl, I am not surprised. Did Randy tell you I came by a
couple of weeks ago?”
“Not one word. What was the surprise visit pertaining
too?”
“I dropped off the money I borrowed from you. Did you
forget?”
I was
shocked, angry
and taken aback.
Randy didn’t
mention to me that Kayla stopped by, but I wasn’t surprised at
all. Anything involving money, he became a mute.
“What money?” I said, pretending I have amnesia.
“The money you loaned me for the abortion.”
“Oh, okay, I’ll check with him about it.” I was thinking it’s
about damn time she paid me. As our conversation went on I
noticed Zan walking towards the car. I had to get straight to
the point.
“Kayla, I need you to do me a favor.”
“Sure, what’s wrong?”
“It’s a long story; I’ll fill you in later,” I said. “I want you to
check in the system at work and get demographics for all
incoming anonymous calls into Randy’s line.”
“No problem. When do you need it?” she said, eager to be
in my business.
“As soon as possible,” I said, not taking my eyes off Zan. As
she got closer, I felt the urge to end the conversation with
Kayla.
“Okay. No problem.”
“Thanks, Kayla.”
“You’re welcome, talk to you soon.”
I hurried and disconnected my call. Zan’s pissed facial
expression was startling as she got in the car.