Chapter Forty-One
Cristal
W
hen I was a little girl there were two things I used to want so badly: love and money. They were the two things I lacked for the most. They are the two things that run my life. Last year I gave up the money for love and now I have lost love blindly chasing money.
Am I so fucked up that my adult life is going to stay this crazy ass teeter-totter between one or the other?
I can see from the look in my friends' eyes that they pity me. I do not blame them. They always wished they had a good brotha like Mohammed. Trust me, I have not missed that jacked-up irony that now they all are in love with good guys and I am alone.
It hurts more than ever that I threw him away. It hurts like hell.
I wish I could press rewind on all this high society bullshit with Carolyn. I get embarrassed every time I think of what everyone thought of me hanging out with her. That I was her paramour. Her concubine. Her bitch.
I feel so damn stupid.
“Carolyn, you look beautiful . . . as
always
.”
My heart stops. I look up at Moët's attorney, Helen, standing at the reception desk as she looks through her messages. I shift my eyes over and have to bite my bottom lip to keep from cussing Carolyn as she walks over to us. The dyking bitch looks as fabulous as ever in a linen sundress that I know is Gucci. I shift my eyes again to the young curvaceous woman at her side. I have to do a double take to make sure my eyes are not lying to me.
Is that that woman Kelle? Kelle. Kelle!
I almost thrown my damn pen in exasperation. After that big a scene she made of herself at the restaurant, this silly bitch is right back digging her lips in Carolyn's ass?
These lesbian bitches are crazy.
I am not worried about losing my job. Carolyn is a smart woman and as soon as she throws salt in my work game I will go straight to Mr. Ingram and spill on every freaky-deaky little detail I know on her scandalous ass. She lucky I did not call the police on her sexually-assaulting ass. Can you imagine the scandal? Not Carolyn. I just was not having it.
Neither one of them speaks to me, but I do not miss the way Carolyn's hand lingers on Kelle's lower back as she guides her through the door to the inner offices behind Helen.
Well, better Kelle's pussy than mine.
I pick up the phone and call Alizé at her internship. “Let's all meet for dinner,” I say as soon as she picks up.
“Girl you must be psychic. I was just about to call your ass anyway.”
I frown in concern. “What's wrong?”
“I have to pick between Cameron and the internship at Braun, Weber.”
My frown deepens. “Ooh.”
“Ooh is right.”
“But I thought the internship is over in a couple of weeks anyway,” I tell her as I pick up a pen and scribble Mohammed's name.
“Yes, but I was invited back for the summer and this internship is important for my career. Shit.”
“And Cameron?”
“He's still in Japan.”
I do an eye roll. “I meant how do you feel about him,” I stress patiently.
“He's important for me,” she says without hesitation. “But I have doubts about his marriage really being over. I would hate to hurt my career for that.”
“Then I guess you have a choice to make, my friend.” I take a lot of pleasure in drawing a huge dagger through Mohammed's name.
“See, it's time like these that I miss dancing.”
“You could go back to teaching,” I offer as I take the sheet I scribbled on and tore it into a million pieces.
Alizé sighs into the phone. “I don't have time to teach and besides it hurts like hell being in the dance studio and knowing I can't get down like I used to.”
“Well, hopefully Rah is somebody name Bubba's bitch by now,” I joke, just to hear her laugh.
“Ooh, baby, I hope they make it do what it do.”
We laugh like crazy.
Someone clears their throat and I look over my shoulder at Carolyn standing there looking down at me. Suddenly the vee neck of my silk dress feels too low as she eyes me like a glass of ice water on a hot day. I shiver in repulsion at the memory of how her hands felt on my body.
“Ze? Dyke alert. Let me call you right back.”
Carolyn's face gets even tighter. I have to make myself not laugh. “Yes?” I say with plenty of attitude.
“Just double checking that we have an understanding that whatever happened between us stays between us,” she says in that haughty tone of hers.
“Oh, trust me. Whatever happened
between
us is
behind
us.”
“So your job is safe.”
“And so is your marriage,” I fling right back at her. Oh, I still have plenty of hood in me no matter how much I try to hide it.
The door to the inner office opens and Kelle walks through with a mean face at seeing Carolyn talking to me. She stands beside Carolyn but her eyes are on me as she says, “I played in my pussy while I was in the bathroom.”
Kelle quickly runs her finger across Carolyn's mouth and Mrs. High Society's tongue darts out to taste the other woman's juices from her lips. They both eye me like my feelings should be hurt. Please. These bitches are dumb as hell.
“This is a dyke-free zone, ladies. Keep it moving please,” I tell them with satisfaction as I pick up the phone and ease my finger close to the button labeled Mr. Ingram.
Carolyn catches the move and shoves her clutch under her arm before she gives me one last longing look and turns to leave. Her little flunky is right behind her like a dog on a leash. Or would it be a pussycat on a leash? Whatever.
Maybe I am crazy for wanting to go to Mohammed's favorite restaurant. Just because we are over does not mean he has a lock on good food. And The Caribbean has the best food this side of two stars. Besides, after all my drama with high society I am determined to get back in touch with the good things about Newark. I need to learn to be happy about who I am and where I am from.
I park my car inside the fenced-in lot. I see Dom's Lexus and the Camry Ze drives parked side by side. I was so caught up in chasing dreams that I missed most of their mending of the friendship. Regardless I'm just glad that the four of us can hang out again.
Hell, I am happy as hell that they are such good friends that they forgave me for kicking them to the curb to sniff under Carolyn's ass. That is what friendsâbest friendsâare all about.
I slide my shades on to block the summer sun as I walk out of the parking lot to the front of the colorfully painted brick building. I stop in my path as Alizé, Dom, and Cristal all come out of the restaurant at once. I smile at them. “I know I am running lateâ”
Ze and Mo wrap their arms around mine and literally turn me around. “Girl, it's so crowded in that motherfucker,” Dom says as they try to make my body move forward . . .
away
from the restaurant.
I lock my legs and plant my feet to the sidewalk just as the sun begins to set in the sky. “Hey, I am starving and I have been thinking about curryâ”
“Let's just go, Cristal,” Moët says with emphasis.
My eyes shift to each of their faces. I do not like what I see. “What's wrong?” I ask.
At their silence, I snatch my arms from them and turn to look through the front glass window of the restaurant. The sun glints off of it and I cannot see through it clearly. Still, I know before I even walk closer and peer in with my hand over my eyes what I am going to see.
It does not stop me.
Sure enough, there in the back snuggled in a booth together is Mohammed and that goddamn Evette. I feel like Peeping Tom as she leans over to wipe something from his mouth with her thumb. It is an intimate gesture. That of a woman looking out for her man.
“Come on, Cris, let's just go,” Moët says again.
This time I let my friends pull me away.
Chapter Forty-Two
Alizé
“C
ameron, this is me. I was just missing you and wanted to hear your voice. I forgot about the time mix-up. I wish I was there with you. Holding you. Kissing you. Loving on you.”
I bite my lip a little as my emotions fill me up as I talk softly into my cell phone. “Sometimes I think you scootie-booted right out of town not to deal with me . . . and you. Us.”
I pull my mom's old Camry into the driveway. “I know we want to wait until the divorce is final and I decide about the internship but I . . . Iâ”
The rest of my words catch in my throat as I climb out the car and meanmug Dr. Locke's SUV parked in front of the house. Man, what the fuck is
this
shit all about?
He's been blowing up my cell and I've been steady sending his ass to voice mail.
“Cameron, baby, we'll talk more when you call me later. Bye.” I snap the phone close so hard that I mighta broke that bitch.
I walk into the house and drop my keys and briefcase onto the wooden kitchen table. I hear voices in the living room as I kick off my heels.
“Elaine, I'm glad that I was able to help you in any way,” Dr. Locke says.
“I can tell Monica thinks a lot of the reason she sees a therapist is because of my relationship with her father,” my mom says.
I walk closer to the doorway and pause.
“Of course I can't discuss the specifics of Monica's therapy with youâ”
I roll my eyes. What the fuck he gone tell her? Lately the specifics of my therapy been a steady merry-go-round on his dick? Negro puh-leeze.
“I do think there are some issues concerning your divorce that you need to deal with.”
And what the fuck you need to deal with?
“Monica thinks that's the reason my new boyfriend is so much younger than me.”
“And what do you think?”
I lean in closer at the silence.
“I think that it was time for me to feel wanted. I'm a womanâa good damn womanâand this man that I loveâwho knows I love himâhad overlooked me for years and now he's marrying someone else.”
“Is the younger man and the new image another cry for attention from your ex? And if it is, when will it stop?”
Okay, I know this motherfucker in there quizzing my mama is a damn quack, but I want to know the answers to this question.
She remains silent.
I guess me and Mama done had enough.
I walk into the living room and they both look up at me. “Hi, Mama. Dr. Locke, can I speak to you outside for a second?” I ask, sounding phony as hell.
“Are you okay? Dr. Locke said you've been missing your therapy appointments so he came to check up on you.”
I lock my eyes with his as I paste a smile on my face. “And that was so . . . nice of him. Dr. Locke?” I wave my hand towards the front door.
He rises to his feet and straightens his creases before he turns and offers his hand to my mother. “It's been a pleasure, Mrs. Winters. Maybe I can refer you to one of my colleagues for furtherâ”
“Thanks but no thanks, Doc,” I tell him as I grab his elbow and steer his ass right towards the door.
As soon as we step onto the front porch I whirl on him like the Tasmanian Devil. “What the fuck are you doing at my house?” I spit at him.
He removes his glasses and calmly as hell begins to clean them with a handkerchief as he leans against the railing. “Why aren't you answering my calls, Monica?”
“Because you and I are over.”
He pauses in cleaning his glasses to look over at me. “No,” he says simply.
I throw my hands on my damn hips and look at him like he has three heads coming out his ass. “You better get the hell out of my face, Dr. Locke.”
He pushes off the railing and stands in my face to peer down at me. “Don't do this, Monica. Don't do this to me.”
I step back from him. “Dr. Locke,
it's over
,” I stress to him. “The therapy session. The sex. Everything. All of it. It's over.”
He grabs my wrist. “It's not over until
I
say it's over.”
I snatch my hand away and slap the shit out of him. It echoes into the night. He smiles and licks his lips as he peers into my eyes. “You know I love when you smack me. Do it again.”
I shove him away from me and turn to dash into the house. I stand by the living room window peeking out the side of the curtain until he finally jogs down the porch and climbs into his ride to drive off.
I'm not gone lie. That shit that just went down has me shaky as hell.
“Is he gone?”
I turn and give my moms a smile. “Yes.
Thank
God.”
“He's one nice-looking man,” she says, as she smiles and fans herself. “Well, you want me to leave my little thug alone. How about hooking your mama up with Hunter?”
I walk past her shaking my head. “Jump from the frying pan straight into the fire.”
I feel her hand on my arm and I stop and turn to face her. “What's wrong with him?” she asks.
“What's wrong with him?” I ask sarcastically, even though I know I'm taking my anger for him out on my mother. I check myself and count to ten. “He's freaking me out and that's why I stopped going to him. He had no right to come here and if he comes back here don't let him in. I'm serious, Ma.”
Maybe I should have walked in the truth and said: “Nothing except I've been screwing him and now he's acting like a mini-stalker because I told him it was over.”
I release a heavy breath that is filled with all my drama. I can tell from the look on my mother's face that she knows there is more to the story but she doesn't want to ask. Still, I'm not ready to talk about it all. Dom. Cameron. Dr. Stalker. None of it.
But when she opens her arms and gives me that Mama smile like only she can I am more than happy to step into her embrace. I swear that I'm grown and independent and all that good shit, but it feels so good to just be in my mother's arms again.
Why did I ever want to grow up?