Flip Side of the Game (7 page)

“Shannon, what do you want? I'm busy!”

“Bitch! You done had more than enough dick to last you two or three lifetimes. You shoulda done made yo' money, ho. So sit up, roll over, or whatever you got to do, but you gonna have to hear this one.”

“What?”

“Don't you know that Lee saw the nigga out with his wife, and when Lee confronted him, he looked at her like she was crazy and acted as if he had never seen her before? Talking about, ‘Do I know you?' I told Lee she shoulda said, ‘Nigga, yo' goddamn mouth know my pussy, ya fake-ass, Jello-pop-eatin' mu'fucka!”

“Well, what she do?”

“She started crying and shit. Talking about, ‘James, how could you? How could you?'”

“And what the wife do?”

“She lost her damn mind! Started actin' a fool, jumpin' up and down, telling Lee that she was gonna fuck her up. This trick performed! You hear me? But since Lee was by herself, she just walked away crying and shit.”

“She did what? She was gonna fight me, but she walk away from James and his wife? Lee's ass is a punk! Plus, I don't know what you telling me for. I don't feel sorry for the bitch, not one bit. We told Lee that the man was married, and she insisted that she didn't believe us, so she got what she had coming to her. Na'mean? Hell, I ain't mad. If she insist on being played, then by all means, 'cause see, if I was Lee, me and my Aunt Cookie woulda invited the bitch for a showdown and I woulda shot her ass!”

Taj looked at me in disbelief. I rolled my eyes and kept my conversation movin'. “Anyway, boo, do you,” I said, “because I'm not gettin' involved. The dumb bitch won't make a liar outta me no more. Had me use my resources and for what? Nah, that's yo' girl. You handle that.”

Shannon sat on the phone for a minute and she didn't say anything, but I heard her breathing, so I knew she was still on the phone.

“Hello,” I said.

First silence, then the breathing stopped, and then there was a dial tone. So fuck it, I thought, and I continued with my don't-stop, get it–get it orgasm, and kept it movin'.

Taj stayed with me until it was time for him to work the night shift. After he left, I turned over and looked at the phone, feeling guilty about my conversation with Shannon. I knew she had to be pissed with me if she hadn't called back yet. I picked up the phone and dialed her number.

“Hey, Shannon.” I said, eating major crow.

“Yeah.”

“Wassup?” I said reluctantly. “Y'all wanna roll?”

“Hell, yeah!”

“When?”

“First thing in the morning. And be dressed for church.”

“A'ight. Come through and get me. I'll be ready.”

“Good thing you called back, bitch! I was just buying time, tryin' to wait for boyfriend to go for his night shift, and then I was comin' over to wreck shop! Love ya.” And she hung up.

Later that night, Shannon and Lee called me on the three-way, and according to my calculations, Lee cried all night. I couldn't take it, so I put the phone down and started cleaning my house. Every time I went back to the phone to see if they were still talking, I heard a lot of snot blowing and Lee crying, “Why? Why? Why?”

Six a.m. couldn't get there fast enough. When the alarm clock went off, I was happy as hell. Roger called saying that he wanted to come by, but I told him that I needed to go to church.

He started breathing heavy and sounding scared. “Does this mean you don't want anything to do with me?”

“What?”

“Does this mean that, you know, you think adultery is wrong?”

“What you think?” I hung up. I had no time for the bullshit, and Roger seemed to be going too far to the left. I had a preacher to teach, so I had no time for the captain of the NYPD trying to act guilty on me.

After waiting five minutes for Shannon to arrive, I called her. “What's taking you so long?”

“I'm putting on my one-piece!” And she hung up.

I gave myself one last overview before I stepped outside, and believe me, to say that I looked good as hell would be an understatement. My black Chanel dress with the mink collar had me looking quite exquisite. If I didn't know better, I would swear that I resembled an hourglass, with an extra fifteen minutes on the side!

Finally, the crew rolled up, and I could hear the
Shaft
music playing in my mind as I stepped in Shannon's gold 745i.

“Who the hell said Charlie's Angels had to always be white?” Angie said, as she slapped me five on the black hand side.

Lee had the nerve to still be crying. “Damn, Lee, you still crying?” I said. “You been gettin' dogged long enough to be a big girl about the shit by now! Jesus!”

“Shut up!” Shannon said. “Y'all just started speaking again, so be quiet.”

I checked the car over, peeped our gear, and saw we were looking fierce. Angie was decked from head to toe in her off-white suede dress. The top part crossed over the breast and tied on the side. Shannon's dress had about five crisscrosses in the back and an asymmetrical dip in the front. Lee wore a light blue wool, fox fur trimmed two-piece suit. The sky blue hat she wore had a large brim and a small black veil in the front. The mere fact that the first lady would see us looking so sharp should be enough to let her know that she would be beaten hands down.

The first person we saw when we got to the church door was Aunt Cookie. She was the head usher, and of all Sundays, she would be at the door.

“Don't start no mess, Babygirl. This is the sanctuary. Move it to the parking lot,” she said, handing me a program.

The usher standing in the front of the church tried to get us to sit all the way on the left side of the church, in the back where nobody could see us. We ignored her and sat in the center aisle, third row, directly behind the mother's bench, not caring about the looks we got for sitting in somebody's space. We had to be sure that Pastor James knew exactly who was in the house.

At first there was some singing, then the standing for the choir, and then the sermon was to begin. Mr. Big Stuff walked to the front of the altar, and then he paraded around like he was the Holy Ghost fire. He huffed his shoulders, cleared his throat, and he just about choked when he spotted us sitting in the third row.

It wasn't time to blow up his spot just yet, so to get it goin', I yelled out, “Tell it, Pastor! Fix it!”

He cleared his throat. “Brothas and sistas, I'm here to tell you today that the devil is a liar and the tongue is a serpent.”

“Amen!” I said, tapping Angie on the knee so she could hit the tambourine. “Amen!”

“Jesus said that a man must cleave unto his wife, for they are one. And so, we must honor our wives and stop the backbiting and the backsliding.”

“Amen!”
Ching-ching
! went the tambourine.

“And let he without sin cast the first stone!”

I jumped up and said, and trust me this was difficult, especially being in church and not being able to cuss, “Pastor James, you are about as sanctified as horse manure. You got cow slop beat! And if you think that your religion only applies on the weekend, you are certifiably twisted.”

“'Cause it ain't all good.” Lee gathered the courage to say, “It ain't all good in the good Lord's neighborhood, when you cheating and scheming. You ain't Mr. Clean, Pastor James!”

“I rebuke you, Satan!” Pastor James insisted like he was desperate and lost for words. “I rebuke you!”

“You can't rebuke nobody. The two chickens on Noah's boat got more religion than you! You got about as much religion as a cow, and you goin' to hell, 'cause you know better! He goin' to hell, Mrs. First Lady, 'cause he ain't doing right. And when he was laying in my bed the other night, he was cleaving all right, but it wasn't to you!”

“Oh, hell naw!” the first lady hollered. She stood up, looking just like a sanctified Laura Hayes, removed her hat, slid off her shoes, and invited Lee to get it goin'.

“Ain't nothin' but a word!” the first lady said, with the deaconesses by her side, standing like Nation of Islam soldiers. “What? What? Y'all wanna do somethin'? Somebody got a beef?”

Holy shit! I couldn't believe this! Talk about ghettofied saints. Now, had I known I would be fightin' in church, I would've placed my nunchucks in my bag, not to mention left my black leather stilettos at home!

Aunt Cookie shot me a look, but hell, I woulda never guessed that the first lady would come out the side of her neck like that! Now, I'm 'bout to go to hell for fightin' the preacher's wife and the sanctified crew.

“You couldn't get no baller bitch?” I said to Lee. “Somebody we could just shoot and keep it movin'? Now I got to fight the Virgin Mary and shit! Goddamnit!”

The first lady was hopping around, and Pastor James was demanding that we leave. I kept making eye contact with Aunt Cookie, looking for a way out, or for her to say something. All she said was, “Long as don't nobody touch you, we straight. But if the heifer jump over the bench, we gonna throw!”

“You about dumb as he is!” Lee said, continuing to talk shit, never mind that we were outnumbered. “You know what? Bump dis. We in the Lord's house.”

“That's right,” Pastor James intercepted.

“So, I tell you what,” Lee continued, sounding like Shay-Shay from the thirty-fifth floor of the projects. “Bring it outside!”

Now, I knew damn well that this bitch didn't just say “Bring it outside.” I looked at Shannon, and if looks could kill, this bitch would be buried.

“That heifer can't fight long enough to save her own life,” I mumbled to Shannon. “And, now she done invited somebody for a war, and in the church's parking lot? Oh, hell no. Soon as we get outside, fuck the pastor's wife. I'ma kick Lee's ass!”

Lee snapped her fingers and said, “Let's go!” And the heifer went walking out the door.

You could tell that Lee didn't have any boxing skills, 'cause she turned her back on the bitch. Guess who had to walk out backward, hunchin' their shoulders and talking shit? You got it: Angie, Shannon, and me. I was fuming!

“This what we gonna do,” Lee instructed us as we walked out the door with half of the church, including the first lady, following us. “Vera, you gonna gut-punch her ass. Shannon, you grab her by the hair and pull her down to the ground, and Angie, you gonna stomp her.”

“And what you gonna do, bitch?” I asked.

“I'ma make sure don't nobody get hurt!”

Holy shit! I knew it. Here we were again, taking up for Lee like we used to do when the girls from down the block used to fuck with her in Prospect Park. Lee couldn't fight, but she always seemed to end up in the midst of some shit.

Pastor James came running outside and pushing the first lady back as she went to take a swing at Lee. “Y'all, please,” he begged. “I understand, lawd Jesus. You done made yo' point. Come on and go home. I'm beggin' ya, please.”

“Naw!” Lee said, jumping up and down like she was going to do something. “Naw, bring it! Bring it! I betcha know me now!”

“I'ma fuck Lee up!” I said to Shannon.

“She 'bout to get it!”

“Lee,” Shannon said, “you done proved your point. Shut the fuck up and let's go! You gonna fuck around here and get yo' ass beat, and I got a date tonight, so I ain't playin' witcha like that.”

“All right,” Lee said as if she were doing us a favor. “No problem, but the next time, Miz First Lady, you gonna wear yo' words! Come on, girls. Let's blow this joint!”

As we turned to leave, we heard someone calling our names. “Vera, Shannon, Lee, and Angie!” Aunt Cookie said, running over toward Shannon's car. “If it wasn't for a li'l bit, I would break each and every one of y'all asses! Don't you ever come up to my church and start no shit in the sanctuary. You was s'posed to catch the bitch on the way to her ride and sneak her ass, not put the pastor on Front Street in the midst of the congregation. Y'all have lost yo' minds! Now, I got to go and try to make things right, 'cause you four don't know how to play yo' cards!

“And, Lee, don't you ever mess with another married man if you can't deal. Now, take y'all asses home, 'fore I straight wreck shop out this piece!”

When we got in Shannon's car, I advised Lee that it would be in her best interest to never speak to me again in life, and if she couldn't manage that, then to at least give me a week, because I'd had enough of her dumb-ass to last me a lifetime.

“Get the door. What are you waiting on?” Taj said as he placed a pot of grits on the stove. He had no shirt on, and he refused to grab my housecoat for me, even after I told him that it was Roger at the door.

“Roger who?” he said with a smirk. “Roger couldn't possibly be my problem.” And he was right; he was mine.

“But let me tell you this,” Taj said, finally throwing me my housecoat. “You better tell ole boy that I ain't the one, and you better understand that as well, 'cause I will leave yo' ass right here!”

“But, Taj, I didn't even do anything.”

“Can it, Vera. You're not stupid. Now, you play me if you want to. Try me and see how it really feels to be alone.”

“Roger,” I said, cracking the door halfway. “It's eight o'clock in the morning. What are you doing here?”

“What?”

“Roger, look, this has to stop. You're going too far. Let's just end this while we can still be civilized.”

“Civilized? What? You trying to play games with me? Why haven't you answered the phone? I called all last night and no answer. You might think you slick, but I saw ole boy come in your house last night. Who was he?”

“What? You been watching me? Are you crazy?”

“Crazy? No. Pissed off? Yes. Plus, this is a high crime area.”

“A high crime area? This conversation is finished!”

“Finished?”

“Yes. Done. Over with.”

“All right, all right. I understand that you're pissed. Just calm down. I was concerned. How about lunch later today?”

“Lunch?”

“Vera, we gotta talk, and I won't take no for an answer. One o'clock at One Fish, Two Fish. Be there.” Then he jumped in his undercover police car, started the sirens to blaring, and took off.

When I walked back into the house, Taj slapped me on the ass as he walked out the door.

“Where are you going?”

“The hospital paged me. It's an emergency.”

“An emergency?”

“Yes, an emergency. Now, I started to get straight ghetto, come outside on the stoop, and handle some shit, but I didn't. Only because you needed to put him in his place. But the next time—and trust me, this is not a threat; it's a promise—I will step to his ass. Don't fuckin' play me, because where I come from, men get killed for less than that. Therefore, if you go to lunch wit' ole boy today, don't ask no questions on why you're alone.”

“Why do you keep threatening me?”

“That's not a threat. That's a promise. Now, be slick and dumb if you want to.” He walked over, kissed me on the side of my neck, and then he left.

I looked out the living room window and watched him get in his Escalade and leave. I was bored as hell. I had closed the shop today, because it was a Monday and I needed a day off, but shit, I was not used to this. I had to do something.

Damn, believe me when I tell you that I tried so hard to behave myself, and I knew I was dead wrong, but One Fish, Two Fish was tight as hell, hardly any elbow room. It wasn't hard for me to spot Roger and his wife having a luncheon rendezvous. This confirmed it for me: Roger was crazy. If he thought he was gonna get this one off, he had another thing comin'.

I purposely asked to sit at the table next to Captain and Mrs. Roger Sims. I spoke to both of them as I sat down and complimented his wife on how beautiful she looked. In my mind, I was daring the bitch to get nasty, and I was praying that she recognized my voice from the episode on the cell phone.

“It's our anniversary!” Roger's wife insisted. “Our thirty-first.”
And this is all you got
, I thought.
Hell, at least I got red carpet and an X Caliber. All you get is a piece of fish
.

“Congratulations! You two look good together. What a wonderful couple. Any children?”

“Yes, four. Two girls and two boys.”

“Wow, perfect match all the way around. Any grandchildren?”

“Just one.”

“Beautiful, beautiful.”

“You look familiar,” I said to Roger, giving him a quick overview and then rolling my eyes. “Don't I know you?” I sat with my arms folded and waited for an answer.

“A lot of people say they know my husband,” Roger's wife insisted, sounding proud of herself. “My husband is a popular man. He's the police captain in this district.”

“Wonderful! I bet he's a good man. I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your name.”

“Roberta. And you are?”

“Vera,” I said, nice and slow. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. Now, back to you,” I turned and said to the flushed red Roger, who seemed to be shitting bricks on himself. “I know exactly how I know you. You were at my house this morning.”

“Wha–wha–wha?” he stuttered.

“Yeah, remember you came to let me know that you were now the head of the neighborhood crime watch?”

“Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah!”

Oh, I got your “oh, yeah” mu'fucker
! Then I leaned to the side, threw my hip around in the tight-ass chair, and crossed my legs. To make the situation worse, I turned back toward my table, called Shannon, and invited her to come and bask in the glow.

“What's up, girl?” Shannon said as she kissed me on the cheek. Shannon only lived around the corner, so she arrived in less than five minutes.

“Is that who I think it is?” Shannon asked, tight-lipped. “Sho'ly is.”

“What the hell is going on here?” Shannon asked, seeming amused.

“Roberta,” I said, “this is my friend. I was just telling her that you've been married to—what's his name again? Oh, yeah, Roger—for thirty-one years today.”

“Congratulations!” Shannon said enthusiastically. “Wonderful. It's not often you see a nice couple married for so long. So, tell me,” Shannon asked, winking her eye at Roger. “What's your secret?”

“Love, honesty, and commitment,” Roberta bragged, lying her ass off. “And friendship. There is nothing I don't know about my husband, and vice versa.”

Yeah, right. “That's wonderful,” I said. “Are you ladies married?”

“No,” Shannon responded. “I'm scared my husband would be a cheat.”

“Don't worry about those things. As long as you keep your man happy at home, he will have no reason to stray. And who knows? Maybe one day you young ladies will find someone just as special as my booga bear!”

On the way out, I tapped Roberta on the shoulder and wished her good luck.

 

 

Ten minutes later, my cell phone rang. “Hello?”

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Roger said, blaring in my ear.

“Fuck you, Roger!”

“It wasn't what it looked like.”

“Oh, no? Was I dreaming?”

“No. She heard me making reservations and she thought that I made them for her and me! What was I going to say? I had to take her. I had no choice.”

“Look, this situation between us doesn't seem to be working out.”

“Don't be like that, Vera!”

“What did I just say?”

“Let me make it up to you.”

“How is that?”

“Manolo is having a sale.”

“Shoes? You think you can make this up with shoes?”

“Okay, name it. What?”

“Nothing! We are done! Get it? Good-bye!”

I was pissed off, confused, and I felt guilty as hell. The truth is, I only snuck my ass to lunch because I was trying to run away from my feelings for Taj, and I only ended up running closer to him, because seeing Roger with his wife only made me want Taj even more.

I didn't know why I was running. I just I felt like I wanted to place my emotions on an airplane and run away with them. And where was I running to? I didn't know, especially when all of my needs, wants, and desires pointed toward Taj. I found myself looking for Taj in everything that I did. If I bought something to eat, I got enough for the both of us. If I bought something to wear, I wondered what he'd think. If I heard something funny, I savored the humor, as if I was holding my breath, and then I exhaled when I saw him, hopped in his lap, and told him what the joke was, and he just looked at me.

Something in his eyes smiled when I sat on his lap and lay in his arms. I felt safe, the same way I used to feel when Uncle Boy would hold my hand or take me to the park. At the same time, it was different because I outgrew Uncle Boy holding me, but I never wanted to let Taj go. I really couldn't deal with this.

Just then the phone rang. It was Roger.

“Vera,” Roger said, “don't hang up, please. I'm really sorry about the other day. Please let me make it up to you.”

“Spare me.”

“Look, I fucked up, but come on, baby, just one more chance, please.”

“Just this one time, Roger, but no more after this.”

Two seconds after I said that, the doorbell rang. Roger was standing on my stoop, as if he had been sitting in front of my house waiting for me to invite him in.

Roger tried to kiss me when he walked in the door and handed me five hundred dollars. I nicely pushed him away and gave the money back to him.

“I'm cool,” I said. “I don't want to be bothered with that anymore. Keep your money.”

“Come on, baby,” he said, running his hands across my breast.

“Would you get off of me?” I said, walking away and sitting on the couch.

“What's the problem, Vera?”

“There's no problem. I'm just not feeling you like that.”

“What?”

“You heard me. You know what? Go home, Roger. Don't you have a wife and four kids? Go and see about them.”

“You never worried about my wife and kids before.”

“Well, things change and people change. I don't want to be with you anymore. I'm okay where I'm at.” I stood up and he pushed me back down, trying to climb on top of me.

“So that's it?” he said. “We're done?”

“Roger, you are married. This shit couldn't go on forever! Now, get up!”

He pressed his chest deep into mine and pushed the hardness of his lower body into my abdomen and against my thighs.

“What the hell are you doing?” I said, trying to push him off of me.

“Fuck you!” Roger said, getting off of me. “I'm sick of you, you tramp-ass ho!”

“Whatever! Just get yo' shit and just leave!”

“Get my shit? You got a tow truck for the house, the car, and everything else around here that I bought?”

“If you don't stop talking stupid, I will hurt you. Now, get the fuck out and don't ever come back!”

“Oh, bitch, you gonna see me again!” Then he got up and left.

Immediately I jumped in the shower. I didn't want to smell like Roger when Taj came over.

 

 

I felt guilty when I saw Taj come through the door, and at that moment, I swore I would never see Roger again.

“What's wrong, Vera?” Taj asked as soon as he walked in the door and threw his stethoscope on the sofa. “What's the problem?”

“Who said I had a problem?”

“Your vibe. I saw the way you looked when I walked in here. Now, what's up?”

“I don't have a problem.”

“Oh, here we go,” he said, sitting down next to me. He placed my feet in his lap and started giving me a foot massage.

I snatched my feet away and placed them back on the floor. “Here we go?” I said. “Oh, so you really wanna know the problem?” I snapped. “This shit is the problem!”

“What shit?”

“This love situation between you and me.”

“Oh, so that's it,” he said, bending down and untying his sneakers.

“What's it?” I asked.

“Love?”

Love? Did he hear me say love? Did I say love? Well, maybe I did, but the more I was with Taj, the more I thought about Rowanda and starting over again, and having more emotion toward her than despise and disgust.

“I just can't take all of this closeness and you being in my personal space all the time!” I screamed out of frustration and anger. Goddamnit, what was going on? Loving this man was like an innate need to coexist with the silver lining of a dream, and the shit wasn't normal. What would happen when he left? He was going to leave, we all know that, but what would happen to me?

“Why do you keep pushing this love situation between us?” I said.

“There it goes again. You said love.”

“All right, I said love! Dammit! Love.”

“Oh, so you admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“That you love me?”

“Wait a minute. Let me clear this up. I never said that I loved you.”

“Oh, so you don't love me?” he said with a look that said he felt anything but the opposite of his question.

“I don't even know how to be in love. Please, I have told so many niggas that I love them, just to get some shoes, a bag, a house, a car, a bank account. Hell, even a college and cosmetology degree. I have said I love you so much that I don't even know what it means. Hell, what is love anyway? Just a name?”

“Okay, now whatever that was you just said is done and over with. Get to the real shit, because I'm listening. And another thing, I'm getting a little tired of the tough girl routine. So you,” he said, pointing, “better catch yourself! And another thing,” he said before I could respond. “Did you go to lunch with Roger the other day?”