Fiona Love (20 page)

“I went out with him when he’d come in town. Maybe once a year. Never fucked him. Only kissed him twice. He took me home to meet
male members of his family a few times, and out to meet some of his buddies. I’d talk to him every now and then going or coming in an airport, you know.

“Then one day he decides it’s time for us to take our relationship to the next level. I’m
18, like, what fuckin’ relationship? He starts callin’ me every day, tellin’ me he got separated from his wife and going into these long detailed monologues about the divorce settlement, how it could go, etc. asking me do I want him in my life. Long story short, he comes into town, and we fuck. It’s great. We fuck the whole time he’s in town, and he’s the sweetest man alive.

“Then he goes home. We talk every single day. My birthday rolls around. I tell him the date. He asks for my address. My birthday comes. I don’t hear a word from him. No deliveries arrive. Ne
xt day I say, forget something?

“He says, I didn’t hear from you so I called the sto
re and had ‘em hold your gift.”

She laughed, enjoying Natty’s uncomfortable s
hifting on his side of the bed.

“I say, ‘What?’ and my fuckin’ guts start to burn, right? ‘Cause I know he’s lying. So I say cool, whatever, and he launches into this whole wounded speech about how the situation is hurtful for him too, and I’m not the only one who’s been hurt, and blah blah blah. I’m like, who the
fuck is this nigga talkin’ to?

Some balloons arrive. I call the florist shop they came from. Ask the lady, ‘Can you tell me if an order was placed yesterday and then held?’ she says, no, but let me give you the number of the place who can, 1-800-BALLOON. I call. I ask the guy, ‘Can you tell me if an order was placed yesterday and then held?’ He says under this name? I say yeah. He looks. Says, nope. Nothing. Then he asks me for my name. I give it to him. He looks again. Says, nope. That’s the only order in our system for your name or for that name and that credit card. I say thank you and hang up. I call this liar up and tell him I know you lied. I tell him what went down, and he says, ‘Are you serious?’ I’m like, you better fuckin’ believe it.
You have a good life. Peace.’

“Well, he emails me and calls, and calls
me and emails. I ignore him. He keeps trying. I keep ignoring him. Finally I talk to him, say dude, stop. It’s not gonna happen. He tries again! I say, leave me alone. Period. He responds, you are right. Why am I chasing you when women are begging for me? Thanks for the good and the bad memories.” She looked at him and smiled. “Whatchu think about that?”

Natty shook his head. “All that because he didn’t want to send some flowers? He didn’t give a shit about you. He was probably the type to never take you out to dinner, right? He’d just show up at you
r house and say he was hungry.”

Fiona laughed, wishing he’d been around then t
o hip her dumb ass to the game.

“Either he didn
’t want to be seen out with you – probably because you were so young –

he didn’t think much of you or he was just fuckin’ broke. Flowers are cheap
,” he said bluntly.

Fiona laughed again. “That’s what I know! But that motherfucker kept bothering me, kept bothering me, kept bothering me. Like he couldn’t hear what I was sayin,’ or it didn’t matter ‘cause he didn’t give a fuck. The audacity! I was like, you think you just gon’ make me let you come back in my life so you can fuck over me some more? Why don’t I just
lie down in the street with my skirt over my head and let every fuckin’ body who want some get a piece? It was blatant disrespect! What I was sayin’ didn’t mean shit. He still felt like he could get back in.

“This trick wasn’t even a catch! He had three brats, a wife, and he lived in another state. But I’m ’posed to just let him treat me like any ole’ bitch off the street. I coulda keeled over from the fuckin’ plague the next damn day because he lied and told me he d
idn’t have a cold when he did.”

“I’d n
ever treat you like that.”

“Nobody’s gonna treat me lik
e that,” Fiona laughed, a serious note threading her voice. “He got over on me. I admit it, but nowadays you only get one chance with me. Then I cut you loose. Nobody fucks over me, and that’s how it’s gon’ stay.”

He drew her into his arms.

“People think they’re supposed to treat you like shit and have you like it, come back for more,” she said after a while. “That shit baffles me. I can’t even look at black men right now,” she whispered sadly, thinking of Flora’s father and how he’d showed his ass after she was conceived. Everyone seemed to remind her of that behavior.

“You don’t see me
as Black?”

“Of course!
You know what I mean. It’s fucked up, but when I look at most brothers, all I see are problems. I see liars, whores and momma’s boys galore. I see limp dicks and stupid, childish, backward ass weak behavior. It’s scary. ‘Cause then I wonder, what the fuck’s wrong with me that I’m attracting all these morally corrupt, idiotic muthafuckas?”

“Nothing,” he said instantly. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just a beautiful girl in a world full of horny dicks. You think everybody plays it straight like you, and they don’t. And you’re wounded. It’s like the scent of blood to vultures. Besides, that’s just how you feel now. It’s not the truth, and you know it.
There are too many good marriages around – my brothers and parents to name just a few – for you to be so down on brothers. This is not a case of all Black men ain’t shit. This is, ‘I picked an immature asshole, accidentally got pregnant, and he didn’t make the cut.’”

Fiona
stared at Natty, turning over what he’d said. Then she laughed softly and snuggled into his arms. “You’re a smart cookie,” she teased after awhile, and let him steal her breath with a long, hot kiss. She rubbed his nose with hers, a habit she’d developed years ago. After a while she asked, “Do you believe we create our own reality?”

“Absolutely,” he sai
d instantly. “Absolutely I do.”

“Then that means I threw away a great love deliberately,” she said quietly. “Maybe not c
onsciously, but unconsciously.”

“Didn’t you?”

Her head jerked up to look at him.

“You know perfectly well Tino shouldn’t have been in your bed.” He’d heard the story first from Netty, then later from Fiona. “But you allowed him to do it. Whatever excuses you came up with to let his bad behavior slide, you knew what the consequences would be, and you did nothing to prevent it. That means you allowed it to happen. You may
even have wanted it to happen.”

She opened her mouth to deny this seeming impossibility, bu
t all that came out was, “Why?”

He shru
gged and stroked her absently.

He was like Daney that way.
Always touching her, as though he couldn’t help himself. She doubted he even realized that he was slowly squeezing her flesh. Testing it like.

“Maybe you don’t think you deserve that kind
of love, so you destroyed it.”

Fiona stayed up thinking about what he’d said long after Natty drifted off to sleep. Had she destroyed her chance
at love deliberately? Sure she’d told Tino more than once not to crawl into her bed. She’d pushed him onto the floor several times, woken him rudely with loud sudden noises, all kinds of shit. But when she woke in the middle of the night and found him beside her, more often than not, she just laughed at his audacity. After awhile he didn’t pay her any attention. He’d just roll over and go back to sleep.

She knew there was always a chance that Daney would appear and catch them. Hadn’t he surprised her more than once arriving before he was due? Didn’t she know how he’d react? That he wouldn’t believe th
e situation was innocent?

Yet she had still allowed that chance to get caught to exist. Natty was right. Was it arrogance? Destructiveness? Some inner disquiet or insecurity? Some deep-rooted feeling that she should be alone, that men were wrong or cruel or that the right one for her simply did not exist?
And then she made it a reality.

“Christ,” she whispered, and shook Natty from his nap, wanting him awake tho
ugh she knew he had no answers.

“What about you?” she asked. “You’re in my life, and you’re good, and ki
nd and smart and there for me.”

“So was Daney. If you create your own reality, and you do, it stands to reason that if you want something, you’ll find a way to get it. You wanted
someone to love you, and I do.”

He yawned and stretched, pulling
her back into his arms.

“It’s different though,” he said quietly, and suddenly Fiona felt the urge to cry. He sounded so sad, and she
didn’t want to think about why. Instead she asked him what he’d thought of her story before he fell asleep.

“Wretched,” he said insta
ntly. “What about Flora’s dad?”

“He’s the one who
didn’t wanna give me flowers.”

Natty pulled her up so he could look in her serious eyes. “Are you fuckin’ kiddi
ng me?” He asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

He gaped at her, stunned, and she began to laugh as it dawned on him that she’d been pulling his leg.

“Ooooh!” He said, and wrestled h
er down, tickling her fiercely.

“Help!” she cried. “Netty!” she squealed, laughing and squirming uselessly as she t
ried to get away. “Help! Cleo!”

“All right, dude.” Netty said, coming into the room. “That’s enough. I a
in’t changin’ no pissy sheets.”

Natty let Fiona up finally, gasping and leaking tears. “I told him about Mar
cus, and he didn’t believe me.”

“Why not?” Netty asked. “I’ve got a worse story than tha
t one.”

“You couldn’t possibly,” Natty told he
r firmly, and they all laughed.

“I do. I was dating this guy I met in a club. He wasn’t terribly exciting, but he had a nice body and a job, and he didn’t seem crazy. He seemed to have good common sense, goals for his life, and even more odd and straight edge, he didn’t do drugs or drink. He didn’t even rush me into bed. Matter of fact, I think I rushed him. Anyway, time passes. We get comfortable. Then all of a sudden, he stops calling. Won’t answer my calls. Months pass, and there’s nothing. I literally had nothing. I was baffled. I even tried to call him on his j
ob a few times. Still nothing.

“But after a while I get over it, you know. Then I see him walking downtown on Michigan Avenue with a girl on his arm. I don’t even respond. I pretend like I don’t see ‘em. He calls and says he was wrong, and he’s sorry and blah blah blah. I don’t remember his reason for that shit, but I forgave. I was on some ole I’m a nice person, I can forgive and forget type hype. I start going over to his crib to watch my show on cable ever week. Same time, same day. After a couple months, I fuck him. I didn’t expect anyth
ing. I think I was just horny.”

Fiona nodded. “You never do. That’s why it’s so utterly stupid when these zeros fuck over
you. It’s like, for no reason.”

Netty nodded. “Exactly! Anyway, I come over a few more times, to watch TV, not fuck. He does it to me again. Same thing. Do you know, after some time passed that mother fucker called again and expected me to talk to him? Just as bold and nonchalant like nothing happened. No remorse. Nothing.
Just a complete fuckin’ waste.”

“Jesus,” Natty laughed. “You guys can really pick ‘em. First a liar, now a coward. You at least,” he told Fiona, “Are movin’ up in the world.
”

C
hapter thirteen

“‘Lo?”

“Peace.”

“Feef Love! Wassup? Bad move, playa,” Mechante crowed. “You, are, set! Run my muh’fuckin’ ends!”

Fiona burst out laughing. “You be talki
n’ to the Frenchies like that?”

Mechante gave her whisky and smoke laugh. “Yup. They
know I don’t mean any harm. Half the time they don’ even know what I’m sayin’. My money, Pierre fairy.” She said something in flawless French. “Nothin’ like a French fag to try and stiff you, pun intended.”

Fiona kept laughing. “Well
, I see yo’ ass ain’t changed.”

“Why wou
ld I? What’s up? How’s my boy?”

Mechante knew all about Natty. Fiona had called to report in, just as she had when
the Tino/Daney situation broke.

“I saw Daney yesterday in the airport,” she admitted. “I’m in Paris right now working on a commercial, and he was passing through on his way to Portofino. He looked good. Hollow around the eyes though, and puttin’ on a brave face that I could see through like glass. He loves you, g
irl. I think he’s really hurt.”

Fiona listened greedily to her friend’s account of the short meeting. Daney had even asked about her. Mechante had a knack for pulling things from people. Something about her invited confidences, and once given they were rarely shared. The only reason she was telling Fiona this story was because she had a feeling Daney and her friend were meant
for each other.

“Don’t trip,” she said, after Fiona had pulled loose the last detail. “Ya’ll are gon’ get
back together, watch and see.”

She asked after Natty.

“He good. My album’s ‘bout done. Movie ‘bout to start. I’m grindin’ hard.”

“I thought “Damn” was tight,
but “The Journey?” Very nice.”

“Thank you, thank you. I had to fight for that bitch to be the first release,” she said of “Damn.” “Now the label calls every five m
inutes wanting to hear tracks.”

“You told them hoes to kiss yo’ ass, I know.”

“Hell yeah. Told ‘em they can buy a copy when it come out like the rest of the world.” They shared a laugh. “I just finished a video the other day, and them bitches doin’ everything in they power to see it. I told ‘em we was gon’ wait a minute to release that shit just to make ‘em sweat.”

Mechan
te laughed softly. “Is it hot?”

“Smokin’.” Fiona ran down the theme, a combo of flashbacks to the 70’s and some unidentified time in the future, both of which Lani and Netty had tricked out with some of the flyest gear Fiona swore she’d ever worn. Soft, custom made cotton bell bottoms in beautiful fabrics Netty had sewn her into at the shoot so that flashes of skin peeked out along the seam
s. Lani had paired metallic mini-skirts with tiny bustiers dripping with faux diamonds and urged Sugar to create glittery makeup to match.

The choreography was a lot of improvisation with a core set of moves that bounced along with the chorus as Fiona wrapped and unwrapped herself around a beautiful black model they’d found to play the object of her affection. Mercifully he wasn’t just beautiful but could dance and play off her perfectly as she kicked and strutted her way through time and a funky,
high-tempo, full-throttle song.

“The director actually gave me two days off to do O
prah.”

“When you doin’ that?”

“Coupla weeks. You know Cleo and Lani got me on starvation rations tryna get ready.”

Mechante snorted. “Bet. You need to tell th
ose control freaks to beat it.”

“I know, right? Cleo even got the director in on the shit. Craft services has been instructed, no, how did he put it? They have been cautioned to bring me only the right kinda food, all of which he insists t
hey approve through her first.”

“Well, he knows La O will ask about his franchise as well as have you perform, so it ain’t like he ain’t g
ettin’ somethin’ out the deal.”

“And as the rest of the crew
eats Italian beef I eat baked apples and organic carrot sticks. I take that back. A gofer felt sorry for me the other day and snuck me a corner of his sandwich.”

Mechante ch
uckled. “Let me take the resta’ these muh’fuckas money, honey. I’ll ring you back. Shuffle them cards some more, bitch!”

******

Other times Fiona would tell Natty a story during one of their games and he’d look so sad, she actually felt bad for disillusioning him. It was like he really couldn’t believe someone would hurt her so badly, deliberately. He commended her for being strong and for making the right move, away from bull shit. He’d squeeze her close as though he could press the memories from her. And she let him, basking in the warmth and support that seeped from his body into hers.

“I’m sorry,” he occasionally whispered into her flesh, and Fiona
loved Natty in those moments.

This love was no better or worse than that she felt for Daney. He didn’t even come into it
, really. This new love was too pure for that kind of comparison. Too different. She and Daney were prancing white horses, crayon blue sky and impossibly green grass. They were a warm breeze off an ocean as smooth as glass. She and Natty were rain one minute, and one of Chicago’s signature blistering heat waves the next. They were meat and potatoes. They were real. Daney seemed like a fairytale, and now, as if she was a child, Fiona stared into the past as though at the pages of a memorable book.

She forgave Natty, who had done nothing wrong, and he leeched some of the pain from her. He pulled it out effortlessly, from old and new wounds, as though under his large, skilled and sympathetic hands all the bad memories, the worries, the myriad mistreatments and hurts could tumble
free like marbles from a sack.

Fiona loved being with him. Loved how easy it was for him to be himself around her
. She liked their energy, that he valued her mind enough to bring her his troubles, and her spirit enough to listen when she laid down hers. Very simply, he made her feel good. Just seeing his face made her smile.

“Isn’t that why people get together?” he as
ked her, when she told him so.

She nodded silently, and he dragged her out to get new towels for his apartment. Not the one above the studio, this was the beautifully furnished right half of a brownstone right off of Oak Street. The left fl
at was kept as a guest cottage.

“Lani and my cousin Plum,” he said of the decor, but he was missing the little touches. He’d let his sheets and towels get raggedy because he only had two sets. He mentioned Bed, Bath and Beyond, but she shook her head and chose two new sets of the best Bloomingdale’s Home had to offer because he told her he wasn’t in
terested in comparison shopping, and when she was in the vicinity of someone else’s Black card neither was she.

When they got hungry midday and she discovered his cupboards were bare, he would have ordered in, but she insisted they go to the grocery store. There she stocked his freezer and fridge with basic foodstuf
fs and made them chicken tacos.

He liked watching her bustle around the kitchen. After he set the table, he stood near the stove getting in her way, stealing kisses and squeezes until she popped him upside the head and told him to sit his narrow ass down. He just laughed, and the sound made t
hose feel-good tickles spread like when she stretched her shoulders just the right way.

He told her about a beautiful red haired model he’d dated who’d been so nuts she actually bit him
once in the midst of a rage. She responded with a tale of a light skinned brother who’d been nice to everyone but her after they started dating, delighting in screaming at her at the top of his considerable lungs while he told her how selfish and stupid she was.

“Why you think we pl
ay games like this?” she asked. “You like hearing all this fucked up shit?”

Natty
looked at her like she was crazy. “Of course not. I wish no one had ever hurt you. That you’d never allowed the wrong men to get near you. Then we could just have fun and fight and fuss and make music all day. But since you did, I want you to get over it. That’s why I encourage it when I see this shit come out of you. It’s better to purge and puke than to try and swallow throw up. Don’t you think?”

Fiona made a face at the graphic image, but
she nodded. “Absolutely. God knows I haven’t had anybody to talk to.”

She smiled at him, and he grabbed her in one of his sweet, rub an
d squeeze kisses. She loved Natty because she knew he was sincere, that his friendship was true. Sometimes, it floored her, the depth of the feeling. That she could still feel it when her heart had been broken so many times before. Sometimes she couldn’t help herself. She’d laugh out of sheer joy, and he’d blink at her, startled.

“You’re a trip,” she’d grin. Then she’d kiss him, first in gratitude then deliberately until
he got hot and came after her.

He’d push her back on the bed with her legs dangling over the edge, and carefully arrange her pussy so that it was poised on the edge of the mattress. He’d spread her thighs as wide as he could comfortably press them and maybe a little more when he forgot and got carried away. Then he’d lick and suck and eat at he
r wet flesh until she screamed.

Sometimes afterwards he’d lie on the bed beside her and fall asleep. Fiona would nap too, snug and safe when he pulled her into his arms during a dream. She’d wake him up in 30 minutes to an hour sucking his dick or stroking him with long, agile fingers until he was hard enough for her to ride. Then they were out for the night, snoring, sprawled in each other’s arms like lumberjacks
after a hard day in the trees.

He slept over with her and the girls some nights, enjoying the attentions of
three or four women like a man with lots of female relatives. Fiona just stood by grinning, proud of her little female family. They’d easily embraced Natty’s new role in her life. Except for Sugar, they’d all known and liked him for years.

“Sugar,” he laughed, when they were introduced, and she knew he was remembering that
first conversation in his bed.

Occasionally he made breakfast for her. It was the only meal he knew how to cook, and he only knew how to make pancakes and scrambled eggs
. They always had both.

Their life together was
peppered with social events, but when they were alone together she loved the peace. Natty liked shaving while she lounged in the tub. He’d beg her to use bubbles so when he finished his toilette he could reach in and play with her while they popped.

They talked on their cell phones side by side as he drove them here or there with Flora babbling in her car seat in the back. Mostly though, they lived and breathed music, with little, grudgingly given breaks for Fio
na’s pre-production movie work.

“Damn” stayed in the number one slot for more than a month. When the video came out, Fiona got so much press she purposefully shut down. Andrea reluctantly acquiesced, knowing when Fiona got that militant look, any efforts to force her hand woul
d meet a thick, concrete wall.

“The Journey” was released, and things really began to heat up. The label insisted she do more press for the album. Reluctantly she confirmed some rumors and laid others to rest. She also began a few new ones as
more pictures of her and Natty began to appear in the papers and circulate on the Internet.

They neither confirmed nor denied they w
ere having a relationship, and their stoicism seemed to add fire to her star over the next few weeks. Photographs surfaced of them holding hands and flew around the Internet like they had propellers and a diesel engine. Then her new song bumped the old new one from the top of the charts. It was a rare phenomenon, but Fiona only smiled modestly. Together or apart they would only say they were working very closely together on her upcoming album, for which the clamor was horrific. Especially after she appeared on Oprah.

Right after she broke it off with Daney
she’d welcomed the frenetic pace Andrea and Cleo demanded, but when Netty and Sugar joined in, Fiona thought she was losing her damn mind. She couldn’t even smoke to take the edge off their constant bull shit. She’d promised Natty and the girls she wouldn’t, and she could hardly find a quiet, private minute to renege. The afternoon before her appearance on Oprah she took two Valerian root right in front of her entourage and locked herself in her room.

“The first one-
a you bitches to knock gon’ be fired,” she told them, slammed the door, and slept blissfully until Natty busted his way in a little before nine. She sleepily fucked him, and they talked about nothing until Cleo, who must have been listening at the keyhole to hear their low voices, yelled,

“You niggas
need ta go the fuck ta sleep!”

Oprah was Fiona’s first
TV performance in over a year, and she was debuting material from her upcoming album, an album that had been nearly four years in the making. She had not one but two number one hits, a love life that was more interesting than Obama’s battle to do his own job, and there was the movie to consider. Since the first film had been a box office hit, everyone was waiting eagerly for what the studio press machine promised would be an explosive summer sequel.