“I’m so sick of Popeye’s!” Dayshawn says as we all strut through the restaurant’s door. He’s wearing black slacks, a plain hot pink t-shirt and he looks so cute. Dayshawn is what we gays consider an Abercrombie Bitch because he usually wears casual clothing with not a lot of spice. “Plus I just had a pickled egg and cheese sunflower seeds. I’m not even all that hungry.”
“Me either. After seeing Miss Adrian in that hospital today, I think I lost my appetite. He looks so sad.” I say feeling my phone vibrate in my purse. “Plus until I can call the bank to find out what’s wrong with my bank card I can’t buy shit anyway. I’m just glad it started actin’ up
after
we got the hotel room.”
“Well ain’t nothin’ wrong with my appetite. I can eat all day!” Miss Tyrone says rubbing his hands over the back of his tight ass blue jeans. His white t-shirt tied up in a knot in the back as usual. He loves showing off when he gets around men. “’Cause you know my sexy ass gotta stay nice and plump!” he continues smacking his lips and acting like a sissy. He gives queens like me a bad rep!
Since she’s being loud, I walk a few feet over and say, “Hello.”
“Girl, I can’t believe you’re on the phone again. Damn!” Tyrone says.
“Mind your fuckin’ business and get what you brought your rusty ass in here for. Always worryin’ ‘bout what the queen is doin’!”
“Miss Wayne, where were you? I’ve been tryin’ to reach you all day!” Parade screams into the phone.
“Parade, more shit is goin’ on in DC than you know. But I’m here now so what’s up?” Although she is mad now, I know she’ll be exited when she hears I’m coming home later this week.
“You’re being audited by the IRS.” She says.
“Audited? What you talkin’ about?”
“It doesn’t look good, Miss Wayne. IRS agents came into ya’ll boutique yesterday snatching up papers and shit. It was terrible! Then they froze you and Daffany’s bank accounts! Daffany is so scared right now and I am too!”
I stop in my steps and look out before me. I put sixty thousand dollars of my money in the bank and now I don’t have access to it? That would explain why my card stopped working.
“I don’t understand…why? What happened?” I asked gripping the phone so tightly, I keep mashing the keys, interrupting our call.
“Daffany said the taxes weren’t being paid. And since me and Jay are co-owners of ya’ll business, they’re investigating us too.”
The smell of the food was makin’ my stomach churn after hearing this shit. I had been doin’ things illegal for so long, that I never thought about what it took to run a legal operation. Plus I assumed Daffany would make sure things were okay since we co-owned
All Girls
Boutique together. And now that I think about it, I was being ridiculous. She has her hands full as it is with Shantay.
“Where is Daffany now?”
“In our house but she hasn’t left the guestroom. Just been in there crying all day. You gotta come home, Miss Wayne. Please.”
Wow…I was just getting ready to tell her I was on the next plan to LA. But with the IRS snooping around there, I needed to stay as far away from home as possible. I had to think of a way to come up on some cash quick.
“Parade, what is Daffany gonna do about her HIV cocktail? If the accounts are frozen how she gonna pay for her meds?”
“For now me and Jay got it. But you know we have a few rental properties that are vacant and we aren’t making profit. So we’re covering the mortgages there plus our own. And with the new baby…and the twins, it’s just too hectic. You got any money lyin’ around you can help her with?”
“Chic, you sure you not gonna eat?” Tyrone laughs. “You standin’ over there like a baby shittin’ in a pamper. Ease up girl, why so tense?”
I couldn’t even curse his ashy ass out. I needed to sit down and think.
“I got some cash in a box under my bed at my apartment. It’s about twenty thousand dollars. Use your key to get in. When you get it, give ten thousand dollars to Daffany and send me the rest through FEDEX. I’ma call you back when I get the address. And don’t worry, I’ll think of somethin’.”
When she hangs up I place the phone in my black Gucci purse. My mind is workin’ overtime because the words BROKE BITCH and Miss Wayne just don’t mix! Not to mention Daffany needed my help more than anything if she was going to stay healthy. Since we were paying for our own healthcare, shit was expensive. We spend a couple thousand dollars on Miss Daffany’s medicine alone each month.
“Give me a three piece white, red beans and rice. Oh…and don’t forget my biscuit.” Miss Tyrone says to the cashier. “And a fruit punch soda too.” He turns to look at me with an attitude and says, “Mother Wayne, do you want somethin’ or not?”
“Uh…no, I’m good. But hurry up. I’m not feelin’ too fabulous right now. Where is Dayshawn?”
“Over there talkin’ to Dell.” She says handing the cashier her money. “Apparently his cornball ass is back in town. And as usual Day runnin’ behind his ass.”
When I look behind me, I see Dayshawn standing by a table and Dell sitting down. Then I see a pretty transvestite walk over to Dell, kiss him on his cheek and sit down in the available seat across from him. She smiles at Dayshawn and offers her hand to shake. But Miss Dayshawn looks at them both and storms out of the restaurant.
Tyrone rolls her eyes up in that big ass forehead of hers and says, “I knew that nigga wasn’t no good! That’s why I told her to leave him alone. I’m not hatin’ I’m just statin’!”
“You know a whole lot, Oprah! And as far as I know, there’s nothin’ written that you can’t date somebody else after a relationship is over. So stop wit’ all the judgmental bullshit because I’m tired of hearin’ it.”
She looks at me and says, “I be glad when you feel better. Ever since you been back from LA, you been actin’ different.”
“Bitch, what are you talkin’ about? The house burned down, Miss Adrian wants to kill herself, Marlene was murdered by the fuckin’ Drag Queen Slayer, the IRS has attached themselves to my money and now one of my best friends just had her feelings hurt by her exboyfriend! I know you a selfish bitch but can you really be that fuckin’ insensitive?
“Excuse me, mam…I mean sir…are you in line?” asks a pesty little white woman behind me.
“Do you see the back of my ass?”
“Uh…yes.”
“Then I’m in line.” I say turnin’ back around to look at Miss Tyrone.
I hear the old bitch sayin’ something under her breath but I don’t even care. Too much is happening too quick!
“Here’s your change, cutie,” the average looking male cashier says to Miss Tyrone, givin’ him
the eye.
I don’t care where in the world you are, if you a gay man, you know how to give
the eye
. And
the eye
means one thing and one thing only…I wanna fuck you and I wanna fuck you right now. Personally he couldn’t get my ass wet but Miss Tyrone has zero standards.
“Cutie huh?” Tyrone grins.
“That’s what I said.”
“Well how about sayin’ that in my ear a little later? Maybe you can show me how cute you think I really am.” He says leaning on the counter.
The cashier who is butch, licks his black-smoked-out lips and says, “Look, the white meat gonna be a few minutes, and I got a break comin’ up in a sec, so let me holla at you before you leave right quick.”
Miss Tyrone turns around and grins at me like she just nailed Trey Songz.
“I’ma go check on Dayshawn,” I say. “But don’t be all day runnin’ your mouth. I got a lot of shit on my mind and I need to go to the hotel to think things through.”
When I turn to leave, the little lady behind me pushes her way to the front so I trip her. Don’t worry, she ain’t fall. Just stares at me and walks her cotton ball head ass to the front of the line.
“I’ll be out in a minute, mother Wayne. Tell Dayshawn I love him.” He says being as fake as Gucci spelled with an O.
The more I hang around Tyrone, the more I’m starting to hate him.
Once at the car I see Dayshawn leaning against it, smoking a cigarette. You can tell she’s been crying because she keeps wiping her tears.
“You got one for me?” I ask.
He gives me one and I fire it up and lean on the car next to him. A little dirt creeps onto my black jeans and I wipe it away.
“What happened? That’s his new bitch or somethin’? ‘Cause if it is, he needs to take her ass to the salon to get her lace front touched up. That shit look like somebody came on her forehead and let it dry up.”
He smiles but more tears roll down his face. She wipes them away. See the thing about Miss Dayshawn is this…whenever she’s upset, she can never let herself cry. She’ll just change her facial expression and rock back and forth in place. You have to figure out what she means based on that.
“Look, if it’s meant to be it will be. But until then, you gotta do you. Anyway she ain’t got nothin’ over you, Day. You know that.”
When he drops his cigarette and smashes it on the ground he hugs me. I know he’s feeling a little better, for now anyway.
We’re in the car for thirty minutes and I was on my way inside to gut punch Miss Tyrone’s freak ass, when she comes out smiling from ear to ear. The Popeye’s bag in her hand is half crumbled and holey.
“I’m Ready!” she sings moving into the passenger seat adjusting her blue Chinese cut wig. “You alright, Day?”
“Fuck all that! What took you so long?” I ask.
“What you think?” she grins tugging at her jeans.
“I know you didn’t do what I think you just did.”
“And what was that?”
“Let that nigga get his ashy dick wet.”
“And what if I did?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? ‘Cause I know you ain’t got no condom on you to be servin’ niggas today.”
“He don’t look like he got nothin’. Plus ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to me. Hell, with all the niggas I fucked in my life and I still ain’t got that shit? Trust me, I’m good.”
I heard about Miss Tyrone being a Bug Chaser, someone who had raw sex so they could catch HIV. I never believed it back then, but I’m starting to believe it now.
“Look how you sound!”
“I sound real.”
“Oh really… well does Miss Daffany look positive?”
For the first time since seeing Dell with another woman Miss Dayshawn speaks. “Daffany’s HIV positive?!”
I was sorry the moment the words left my mouth. Miss Daffany’s secret was kept under wraps until now. And with Miss Tyrone knowing about her condition, I was sure the whole neighborhood would find out before long, it was just a matter of time.
“Daffany sick?” Tyrone asks.
“What, you didn’t know?” I ask sarcastically. “Since you seem to believe you can tell who got what just by lookin’ at ‘em.”
Miss Tyrone stares out ahead and says, “Well I think he was safe. I’m not too good with guessin’ when it comes to fish since I don’t fuck ‘em no more. I had fun with him and he could fuck. After it was over, he gave me my money back plus my chicken dinner
with
biscuits!”
“So you fuckin’ for chicken now?” I pause. “And you don’t think that’s stupid? You ain’t even got a place to stay right now, Tyrone. I’m the one comin’ out of my pockets for a hotel because I don’t want to see my friends out on the street.”
Miss Tyrone fans me away and says, “I ‘preciate what you doin’ and I told you that already. But we are gay men, Wayne. This is what we do. This is the life for us. Right, Dayshawn?”
Dayshawn remains quiet but nods in favor of his bullshit.
“All gay men don’t act like this! Hell I’m gay and I know everybody’s first and last name I fuck! Can you say the same? What was the Chicken King’s last name you just fucked, Ty?”
“Look, that’s you. Not me.”
“I guess so because if I’m gonna give a nigga a piece of this crystal, he betta damn sure be worthy. Givin’ me fried chicken with extra biscuits just won’t do.”
“Like I said, that’s you,” he says shruggin’ his shoulders. “But most of us carry it like the way I just did. Me, Dayshawn and Adrian included. If you can’t get with it then I understand, but that’s your thing not ours and you shouldn’t knock us for it. I fuck what I want, when I want and where I want. It’s as simple as that. I’m grown, Wayne.”
Sad ain’t it? And as much as I’d love to argue, she’s tellin’ the truth. Sex between gay men is unlike anythin’ that can be explained. It’s more passionate, it’s more addictive and it’s more competitive.
I know competition may be a strong word for people who don’t live this life to understand but it’s true. Fuckin’ as many men as you can in some ways makes you believe you’re more desirable…more wanted. Not to mention you can bust a nut at the same time. And in a world that rejects you on a daily basis, to some men sex is everything.
But after hearing this, I had an idea. Since she’s a whore anyway, I decided it would no longer be for free. I had plans to tax that action and that goes for the rest of my crew too.
When my phone rings I take it out of my purse and say, “Hello?”
Silence.
“Hello? Who the fuck is this?” I yell louder.
Miss Tyrone and Miss Dayshawn stop what they are doing and look my way.
“You betta mind the company you keep.” The caller says…and then he hangs up.
I wonder who that was and my gut tells me its Big Boody Brandy. But if I’ve learned anything in life, it’s that it’s usually the person you least expect.
Queen Paul and four of his crew members stood in front of his incinerated house waiting on Big Boody Brandy. Money had exchanged hands but Tyrone, Dayshawn and Wayne were still walking around breathing and Paul needed that to stop.
Paul just finished meeting with a shift investigator from the fire department and an insurance agent at the property. Through it all, he couldn’t believe the house he’d been raised in most of his life, was burned to the ground. His mother gave him the house on his eighteenth birthday and it meant a lot to him. But if things went his way, he may get compensated for more than it was worth when the investigation was over.
All of the queens were dressed in drag and at first look, you’d think they were a bunch of linebackers playing a joke on Halloween. All of them wore stringy wigs, run over shoes and fake purses. They were definitely hard on the eyes.
“I hope she hurry up!” Kevin says to Paul. “My cousin who’s doin’ security at the private poker party I was telling you about said the game is goin’ down tonight. So we gotta hurry up if we gonna hit it.”
Big Boody Brandy parks his black Toyota Tundra at the curb and grabs her Teacup Yorkie to approach Paul. Four queens open their car doors and follow. Now the crew Big Boody ran with was official. They spent money to have work done on their breasts, lips and hips. And the clothing they wore was always from a designer label. With one look you could tell who was getting real money between the two houses and who wasn’t.