Black & Ugly (2 page)

Black and Ugly

brush. Soap. Food. A roof over my head. If my shoes wear out and begin to speak, maybe, just maybe, they'll buy me a new pair. Other than that, I'm short dog. Now, my so-called man gives me a few dollars every now and again, but not enough to buy no real clothes.

I often ask myself, "If Sky looks out for you, why do you fuck her man?" My answer to that is this: the outfits, the perfume and Jay bring me closer to actually being her. That is, until he calls me an ugly black bitch or I look into the mirror.

Now I am just sittin' on my black canopy bed wonderin' what I'm gonna get into on a Thursday night and my phone rings. I'm hopin' it ain't my boyfriend

'cuz sometimes, I'd rather be alone than with him. He grosses me out. It's just a matter of time before I end things, but first I have to make sure it's what I wanna do. I guess if I hadn't been fuckin' Sky's man for the past six months, I wouldn't know what a real man's touch feels like, but now I do. So, I don't want to replace that so quickly for Melvin's short, stubby fingers.

"Hello," I answer the phone.

"What the deal, Parade? Your folks up? 'Cuz I'm tryin' to slide through there and bang the walls out of that pussy real quick," he says.

It's him. Jay! He's been callin' me a lot lately. At first he would sneak over here once a week, but now it's every other day.

"They ain't even here," I respond, hoping my smile
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doesn't come through the phone. "I thought you were takin' Sky to the movies in forty minutes."

"I am," he answers, breathing heavily as if he's irritated. "How you know?"

"She called me and said she was on her way to meet you down there. If you come see me, and we do what we do, you won't have time to shower."

"It ain't like we don't live in the same complex, Parade," he says. "Anyway, are you worried about it?" He knows I ain't worried. I have splotches, acne and bumps all over my face. There is no way on earth I am turning down Jay Hernandez who, if dressed like a girl, would still look better than me. At six feet, three inches and two hundred thirty pounds, he is handsome, fit, strong and the only man other than five-foot-four Melvin who wants to be bothered with me.

"No, it's just that ... you know how Sky is when she gets around you. She'll probably want to go down on you or somethin' in the movie theater, and then what?"

"And then I'll let her do it," he says, aggravated at my question. "Man, stop askin' me so much 'cuz I ain't feelin' the third degree. That's the same kinda shit I can't stand 'bout her ass."

"I'm not tryin' to get you mad," I respond as I sit up in the bed and play with the hole in the multicolored comforter. "It's just that, well, I feel bad when you see me right before you see her."

"Look, we do what we do but if you ain't feelin' it

... fuck it. I won't come over," he says and hangs up.

I stand. My heart is racing, and I'm already feeling
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Black and Ugly

as if I've lost a boyfriend instead of a slide - somebody I fuck from time to time. What am I gonna do now?

Askin' a million questions has ruined my chances of being with Jay tonight. What if he never wants to see me again? I'm so fuckin' stupid. Why would I remind him about his girlfriend when he is coming over my house to see me?

I walk into the kitchen to get something to eat. But, in my heart, I'm trying to get my mind off needing to feel him and hold him. I grab a plate and a piece of five-day-old fried chicken out the fridge. I notice the red phone shining on the kitchen wall. I take it as a sign. Maybe I should call him and at least tell him I'm sorry. After all, it is my fault for asking so many stupid-ass questions. What he does with Sky is none of my business, and I have no right questionin' him. I'll call and if he still doesn't want to see me, well, at least I'll know I apologized.

I pick up the phone and nervously dial his number.

Please let him still be available.

"Yeah," he yells as the sounds of Biggie's "
Fuck You
Tonight
" blast on his truck stereo in the background.

"Jay, it's Parade," I say as my voice shakes. "Can you turn your music down a little?" He does but remains silent.

"Uh ... I wasn't tryin' to get you mad," I continue, twirling the phone cord and playing with the fried chicken I don't plan to eat.

Silence.

"I will never question you again. I understand what
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you guys do ain't got shit to do with me."
Silence.

"And if you still wanna come by, I still wanna see you."

Sweat forms on my forehead and I raise my left brow as I wait for his response. Am I trippin' off him more than I realize? Is my heart getting too deep into a man who at any point could say, "Game over. I don't feel like playing anymore." Where would that leave me? Back with sweaty-ass Melvin? I hope not.

"Leave the door open and don't have shit on," he demands.

I hurry into the bathroom to freshen up. I put on the Bebe perfume Sky gave me, take a rat-tail comb then smooth some gel on the back of my hair so it will stay in place. My mother never taught me how to style my hair when I was in high school. Instead, she used to cut it all off so she didn't have to deal with it. Now I keep it slicked down real low with a part on the side. I usually cut it myself with a pair of scissors.

Whenever Jay comes over, I want to look nice for him. Part of me hopes he'll think about me when he leaves. Don't think I'm wrong, and don't make your mind up about me yet. I care about Sky, but I also know she talks bad about me when I'm not around.

Whenever something's wrong with her, she takes it out on me. She doesn't do the same thing to Miss Wayne or Daffany, and we've all been best friends forever.

Between Sky and my mother, I don't know who comes down on me the worst.

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Even though Sky wails on me, I'll fuck somebody up about her. I got a reputation for fighting and stompin' bitches out 'round the way. That's the only reason they don't fuck with me. Most of the scratches on my face came from beating a bitch's ass.

So, it's not like I'm fucking Sky's man and don't care about her. It's just that I need Jay to make me feel like a woman. Sometimes even pretty. Hell, she can get anybody she wants, but I can't. What am I supposed to do?

~~~~

He's here. Damn! It's only been five minutes. He walks straight through the door because it's already open. Ohh, he's lookin' soooo good. Have you ever seen a man who looks better every time you see him? Well, Jay does. I understand why Sky chose him. He is wearing blue jeans, a black button-down shirt, a fitted cap and a platinum chain. He also has a watch on with so many diamonds that it is tough to look at. But what I really love is how he always smells like money. I'm pretty sure everything he has on is designer but I don't know much about labels - just the shit that Sky gives me.

"Why you got your clothes on?" he asks as he enters and slams the door. "I thought I told you I wanted that ass naked? You know I can't stay long." He's pissed but I like it better when he takes my clothes off for me than for me to take them off myself.

I have on my sexy black dress and, at seventeen dollars, it deserves his full attention. As far as I'm conT. Styles

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cerned, to feel like a lady is worth hearing his fussing.

"Come on, Jay," I persist as I lock the door and gently grab his hand. "I got my room all nice and pretty for you. I thought we could do it on the bed tonight."

"Listen, shawty," he snaps, snatching his hand from me, "I told you I'm not wit' all that romance shit. We straight fuckin', that's it! When I come over here I want to see that ass naked and bent over on the sink. Fuck this dress and dem rose petals and shit."

"I know, it's just that ..."

He cuts me off, grabs my face and says, "Don't fuckin' fall in love wit' me, Parade. You'll get your feelings hurt. Sky's the only woman for me." I know, I should be mad at how he grabs my face and yells hateful shit at me, but you know what I am thinking? At least he's touching my face. With all my scars and all my bumps, he's still touching me. In a way, it makes me want to do something about my skin.

Maybe next time he touches me, he'll see a clearer face and want me.

"I know, baby," I speak real softly. "I know it's not cool to fall in love with you, and I'll try my hardest not to. It's just that ... I wanted to make things nice for you."

"Naw, lada for dat. Make shit nice for me by doin'

what the fuck I ask you."

"It wasn't any trouble. You can fuck me the same way you would over the sink but on my bed."

"Yeah, a'ight," he says as he follows me.

I have the candles lit, the room clean and the air
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