You Make Me Wanna Page 4

  “Let’s see how much you’re boasting and bragging after this next game,” Nakia said, though I had yet to see her bowl over 70.

  “How are you, Lisa?” Fred Jr. asked.

  Lisa stared at her foot, tracing a speck of hardened gum in the worn carpeting, replied softly, “Good.”

  “Let’s go get your shoes,” he said, walking toward the front desk.

  “Here, Lisa,” I said, handing her a ten-dollar bill. “Grab me an eight and a half.”

  I wanted to commend Fred Jr. on a job well done ignoring Lisa’s pimple like it simply didn’t exist. By the time Lisa and I finished our first game and she had beaten Fred Jr. by three pins, it appeared she had forgotten about the atrocity herself.

  Nakia and I excused ourselves to order lunch from the bar and allow Lisa and Fred Jr. time to bowl a final game of their own. One game was one too many for me anyway.

  “I talked to Yvonne on the way here, Kia. She’s not even about to let me not come home at Christmas,” I said.

  “You got hell to pay either way. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”

  “Thanks, Kia, like I didn’t already know that.”

  “If you can get that assistant buyer of yours to get off her ass and do some work, you might be able to swing it.”

  “Tell me about it,” I replied.

  Amy, my assistant buyer, to my constant bewilderment, had maneuvered her way into the position of working under me. As wrong as it was, Nakia and I had nicknamed her LALA (lucky-ass lazy Amy) and no one, not even Gary, suspected she was the target of our snickers and jeers when we mentioned the pseudonymous LALA.

  “Get that girl off her flat ass and make her do some work,” Kia said.

  “I will. I do want to go home for Christmas.”

  “Girl, yeah, you’ve been here how long and haven’t been back to see your family?” She shook her head.

  “Don’t remind me,” I said, wondering what my family must be thinking of my two-year absence. “I think I’ve been scared, Kia. I’m not the person I used to be.”

  “Whoever in the hell you used to be doesn’t matter, Kyla. You’re still your mama and daddy’s baby and Yvonne’s big sister. You better take your ass home and see your family.”

  “Damn! Okay. I said I was.”

  “You better,” she said, slapping one of her King Kong hands against my shoulder.

  I winced in pain, and a roar of laughter escaped from Nakia. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a bowler drop his ball.

  Lisa and Fred Jr. joined us just after Lisa’s second victorious game. By the occasional glances and giggles between the two of them, I could see the formation of a crush on both their parts. I’d have to watch them carefully.

  The ride home proved to be a major improvement, with Lisa’s sullen demeanor transforming into giddy conversation and laughter.

  “When will I see you again?” she asked when I pulled up in front of her house.

  Her question was unexpected, since she was aware of our last-Sunday-of-the-month routine. I was curious if, hidden beneath her inquiry, was the real question, “When will I see Fred Jr. again?”

  “Next month. Why?”

  “I was hoping we could do stuff together more. Shopping or something. Can you help me pick out my first lip-gloss color? My dad said I can wear color now.”

  “Of course, Lisa! Maybe your dad can drop you off one day at my store, and then we can stroll the mall.”

  Lisa wrapped her arms around my neck. “Thank you!”

  She skipped from my car to Gene, her father, who was outside just about to start his lawn mower, and gave him a hug before running indoors.

  I waved and gestured for him to come over.

  “Hey, Kyla, how’s it going?” he asked.

  “Great, Gene. We had a good time today. Your daughter is so beautiful.”

  Just then, I noticed she had left her bag of acne cream. “Hey, give this to Lisa. We had to make a stop today. Seems like her pimple had her a bit down.”

  Gene glanced over his shoulder to determine Lisa’s distance from us. She was already back outside, sitting on the front stoop, phone in hand, talking someone’s ear off. “Yeah, I didn’t know what to do with that girl this morning. After she looked in the mirror, she got back in the bed and swore she wasn’t leaving the house ever again. So dramatic she can be.” He laughed.

  “Well, tell her to keep using this, and it will help.”

  He took the bag from me and smiled gratefully. Within seconds his smile faded and was replaced with a reminiscent daze. “If only her mom could see her now.”

  “She can, Gene. She’s somewhere watching over Lisa and you every day.”

  No response followed. I wasn’t sure if he was lost in a daydream or had simply tired of uninventive reassurances.

  “See you in a few weeks?”

  “Actually, Lisa and I were hoping to get together before then. Can you bring her by the mall one day for some lip-gloss shopping?”

  “She would like that. Call us with a good day for you.”

  “Sure. See you soon.” I released my brake and put my foot on the clutch.

  Gene tapped my hood and walked to Lisa and gave her the plastic bag. She waved excitedly, and I tooted my horn to her beaming face and swollen pimple.

  Arriving home to a quiet and still apartment was expected. I knew David worked the evening shift most Sundays, which kept him away from six in the evening until three in the morning. When he got off work, he’d quietly creep into the apartment, slip out of his security uniform, down a tall glass of ice water, and crawl into his bed. The next day he’d always question, “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

  I’d tell him no, even though my body had adjusted to the brief middle-of-the-night interruptions, and I’d readily fall back asleep the moment his bedroom door closed. It was comforting to know he returned home safe and sound, even if his arrivals home were becoming less frequent.

  After I changed into a cozy cotton pajama set and went to pour myself a glass of Merlot, I found David’s note taped to the refrigerator door.

  Asia—home health nurse to soon-to-be-deceased Mrs. Garfield. Mrs. Garfield was just taken in by bitch daughter, who has no time to take care of her sick mother. Asia is on call around the clock and has nursing assistants to fill her shoes when she attends to other patients. Pleasant, charming, bright, and successful. Is she family? Don’t know yet. Thank Marlon for this information—He made his move for conversation when Asia strolled on another walk with the ill-fated.

  Smooches!

  I kissed the paper back and thanked my lucky stars for Marlon’s intrusion. Marlon could gossip and invade privacy like a nosy, old retired neighbor with nothing to do besides peek through curtains late at night, excusing their meddlesome nature as “neighborhood watch” duties.

  I picked up the phone and dialed Marlon’s number.

  “Hello,” he answered in his gruff, rugged voice.

  “Hey, handsome, it’s Ky. I got David’s report on Asia, but I want to hear it from you.”

  “I bet you do.” He laughed. “Mrs. Garfield just arrived last week, which is the reason we’ve never seen Asia before. It was easy to talk to her. I caught her the other day and just introduced myself as a tenant and asked, was she new to the building. That’s when I got her name. Today Mrs. Garfield had fallen asleep in the wheelchair, so we had a minute to talk. She told me about Mrs. Garfield moving in, and I already knew about that stank-ass daughter of hers. She doesn’t speak or even acknowledge your existence if you pass her in the hallway. And I thought I saw her snotty ass looking at MJ like he was the devil’s child one day. But Asia didn’t even wince at the mention of that hellish woman. She just smiled and talked on about her job and praised Mrs. Garfield for her positive attitude. She asked some questions about me, but out of kindness, I believe. I could tell it wasn’t a romantic interest kind of thing.”

  “Well, good. At least we know she wasn’t taking a liking to you.”


  “Right.”

  “Thanks for checking her out, Marlon. I just had to know more about her. What are my chances that she even swings in my direction?”

  “Find out for yourself. I invited her over for coffee Wednesday afternoon. She’s stopping by after her walk with Mrs. Garfield. She said she could bring the monitor with her to listen in on Mrs. Garfield.”

  “A monitor? Like a baby monitor?”

  “I suppose, girl. Could be some fancy high-tech doctor machine, for all I know. Anyway, just be here on Wednesday.”

  I hesitated. “Don’t you think that will be a little obvious?”

  “Well, what do you suggest? This is much less intimidating than you outright asking her on a date. You can quickly find out if she has a man. That includes a boyfriend or a husband, you hear me? You are leaving attached women alone, aren’t you? I know you have a sensitive spot for them and everything, but you don’t have to be their guinea pig experiment either.”

  “Hey, hold up now. Don’t get me started on you!”

  He laughed hard. “I knew that was coming. That’s how I know it’s a dangerous situation, sweetheart.”

  “I know. But where would I be if Stephanie had never given me a chance?”

  “Let’s not even worry about that, because you’re where you are now.”

  Good point. No sense in me still dwelling on what might have been.

  “So you’ll be here Wednesday, right?”

  I thought about how odd it would look for two guys, a couple at that, to invite two women over for coffee at the same time. Pretty obvious, if you ask me. But, hey, Asia’s vision was stuck on the forefront of my mind, and I would surely go crazy wondering more about her, as opposed to just finding out.

  “Yep, I sure will.”

  After we got off the phone, I immediately began searching my closet for one of my best suits to wear on Wednesday.

  I nervously tapped my fork on the wooden table inside The Cheesecake Factory.

  Nakia asked, “What in the hell is wrong with you, Kyla?”

  She hadn’t noticed that my right leg, repetitiously bouncing up and down underneath the table, was right in time with the fork. I had the jitters from nicotine withdrawal. Ever since that eye-opening day when I saw Mrs. Garfield hacking away and suffering from what I assumed was terminal lung cancer, I vowed not to pick up another cigarette again.

  “Ooh, Kia, girl, I have nicotine withdrawal,” I said, exaggerating the symptoms by dabbing my forehead with a paper napkin.

  “’Bout time you kicked that habit. That shit ain’t cute.”

  Nakia took a bite into a barbecue chicken wing. “What made you quit?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” I said with a bit too much enthusiasm, which Kia instantly recognized.

  “Oh shit! Who’s the new babe?”

  I put my hand to my chest in playful jest. “Why, Kia? What on earth makes you think there’s a new lady in my life?”

  “Because there always is a new lady in your life every other damn day of the week.” Nakia didn’t even laugh as she said it.

  Damn! Had I really gotten that bad? Why was I asking that question? I already knew the answer.

  “Anyway, Kia, I don’t even know her. Never even met her. I saw her one day at Marlon’s apartment, and I just have to know who she is.”

  “Well, did you ask Marlon?”

  “Already taken care of. She’s going to Marlon’s for coffee Wednesday afternoon, and I’ll be there too.”

  “Hold on, Ky. You’re telling me that Marlon invited a strange woman to his apartment just so you can meet her? Damn, girl, times gettin’ that hard?”

  “Fuck you, Kia,” I said, still fidgeting with my fork, feeling worried about the setup all over again.

  “Kyla, do you know if this woman is gay?”

  “Well, no. I was hoping to find out on Wednesday.”

  “All right, let’s say that on the chance that she’s straight, ’cause there are a few of them left out there, in case you’ve forgotten. Let’s say she’s straight and here comes you in your rainbow accessories inside your gay cousin’s boyfriend’s apartment. Don’t you think she just might be a little pissed off if she finds out this was a setup so you could get into her panties?”

  I laid my fork on the table. “Damn, Kia! Why do you have to say it like that?”

  “Because that’s been the case with every woman you’ve met. It’s not about a relationship or commitment. You hang out, get busy, and then move on to the next victim.”

  “They just weren’t the right one.”

  “You tossed them aside so fast, you didn’t even give them a chance. How could you have known they weren’t the right one?”

  “It’s there, or it’s not. I just know.”

  “So even if it’s ‘not there,’” she said, mocking me, “you still like them enough to lay down with them. That’s okay?”

  “It takes two.”

  “Yeah, but the other half of the two doesn’t know she’s about to be dropped like a hot potato either.”

  “That’s not true, I’m up-front with everybody. They know I’m not looking for a relationship.”

  Nakia was silent while she finished the last bite of her final chicken wing.

  “Whatever, Kyla, that’s been your excuse and your crutch ever since we met. But, tell me, really, why are you so afraid to settle down?”

  Up until this point, Nakia had been sitting back quietly, watching me skip from bed to bed, “relationship” to breakup, without question. Suddenly I felt exposed, as if the mask of contentedness had fallen off and I was left to deal with the truth. I had to face the reality of my behavior the past two years.

  “Why are you doing this to me, Kia?” I asked weakly.

  “I’m not doing anything to you, girl. If you tell me you don’t want to settle down because you like getting your rocks off with as many women as you can, then so be it. I won’t bring it up again. But if there’s a chance that it’s something else, and judging by your reaction I see that it is, then let’s talk about it.”

  I exhaled loudly, blowing my paper napkin across the table. “I’m scared.”

  Again Nakia was quiet, maybe waiting for me to elaborate on what I knew was an all too common and flimsy excuse.

  “It took a long time for me to get over Stephanie. I mean, even though I was too afraid to love her until it was too late, she had taken over my heart completely. Then I lost her. I’m so frightened to let that happen again.”

  Nakia nodded. “Well, do you plan not to settle down, out of fear, for the rest of your life? Don’t get me wrong, I understand what you’re saying, but you can’t hide behind that loss forever. You remember how you felt when you were with Stephanie, right?”

  A doleful look covered my face. “Yes, I do.”

  “If you want to love like that again, Kyla, you’ve got to let go.”

  Had I been hiding behind the hurt, pain, and sadness I felt over my loss of Stephanie? I never really had Stephanie in the first place, did I? I shared a moment, just a fraction of a lifetime with her, while, at the same time, sharing a portion of my life with someone else. Still, there was no minimizing the grief I felt when Steph walked out of my life forever. Was my overindulgence in feminine ecstasy nothing but a protective cover-up for my broken heart? Nakia was right. If I continued to shun every potential mate that entered my life, I’d be a sexually satisfied but emotionally empty woman. I reminded myself of Tori and the numerous sexual encounters she embraced.

  “I know Kia. I’ll let it go.”

  Nakia laid her hand atop mine, pleased with my response. “So, tell me about this new lady.”

  “Well, her name is Asia, and she’s a nurse taking care of an elderly woman in Marlon’s building. She’s beautiful, Kia.”

  “All the women you date are beautiful.”

  “This is different though. I’ve never said one word to her, but I just know she’s a beautiful person on the inside also. It’s
hard to describe,” I said, searching for the appropriate words. “There’s this glow about her that makes me want to step inside her world.”

  “What’s your action plan? How are you going to figure out if she’s a lesbian?”

  “I don’t have a plan. I’ll talk to her and see what kind of vibe I get and take it from there.”

  “Girl, you better come straight to see me when you get back from this mission.” Nakia reached in her purse for her portion of the bill.

  “I will,” I said, laying down a fifty. “I got you.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled, and then her grin faded. “Kyla, don’t be too let down if this doesn’t work out the way you hope. Don’t shut yourself down to future possibilities in love.”

  “I won’t, I promise. Thanks.”

  After three days of frequent trips to my closet, my black Jones New York pantsuit was the final decision for my Wednesday meeting. Before my selection, I had stood there and flipped through the row of suits I’d collected since starting my buyer position.

  Once, I overheard LALA talking to another assistant, who suggested I had advanced solely on my ability to coordinate an outfit and look the professional part. Then I realized just how much I needed to prove I had business savvy as well. Did they forget I had ten years of retail experience? That I spent a ridiculous amount of time in college taking courses that eventually led to my long-awaited degree? I didn’t let those young bitches bother me though. Especially LALA. I often wondered how many dicks she sucked in ground floor fitting rooms before her promotion to the office level.

  All morning I tried to focus on my reports, but my eyes kept shifting to my desk clock, which moved slower than on a Friday afternoon before a three-day weekend. Finally, at one o’clock, I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my Gucci purse (when had I gotten so materialistic?) and headed to the Misses department. I rocked side to side anxiously, waiting for Nakia to finish assisting a trainee with a return item.

  Nakia approached me and grabbed my fidgety hands. “What the hell, Kyla? You going to be all right?”

  “I’m about to head to Marlon’s.”