Friends and Lovers (34 page)

Anyway, most of the lights were off, and the only things that broke the darkness were the night-lights in the halls and the snippets of moonlight coming through the blue curtains in the kitchen window. That was a nice welcome quiet that made me glad that everybody had jetted off the property for the day.

I could’ve made it to the bedroom without another incident, but Alejandria called me. She was trying to get comfortable on a bar stool in front of the island. If she hadn’t called my name, I wouldn’t have slowed down enough to notice how different the kitchen looked. Top to bottom, it was spotless. That was enough to let me know I’d been outside too damn long. Dishes were stacked; garbage bags were tied. Everybody else had helped, and I was outside being public nuisance number one.

Bobby’s wife was surrounded by pictures. I thought she had a few shots from her and Bobby getting hitched at the White Chapel drive-thru in Vegas. I peeped over her shoulder right when I heard Richard coming up the back steps.

Alejandria asked, “Is this one you?”

It was a snapshot of me and Tyrel, one we’d taken at the L.A. Zoo. His leg was wrapped around me like he was climbing on me, and my tongue was stuck out while
I laughed and crossed my eyes. That photo was old news, and I didn’t care for the sight of it.

Before that bitch started answering his phone, I used to imagine that the first thing I’d do if I ever ran into Tyrel was speak, smile, shake his hand. If he welcomed that, then I’d give him a friendly hug. Something nice that started off as a sister hug and became a back-rubbing, ex-girlfriend embrace. And if he didn’t pull away, I’d slip in a kiss on the cheek. If he was smiling by then, a soft kiss on his lips, maybe a slight of the tongue. I’d whisper “Obispo” and gracefully and sexily drift away without a peek back, leaving the ball in his court.

All of that noise was extinct.

“Yep, that was me.” I said that so fast my words overlapped. In my next breath I was twisting my hair. “That was me.”

“You look so pretty.”

“Thank you.”

The red numbers on the face of the coffeemaker said it was one a.m. I didn’t think it was a second after ten. Without a word, I left her midsentence and sped toward the bedroom that me and my fiancé were gonna be sharing tonight. The back door shut kind of hard. When I peeped back, Richard had made it into the house and was peeping over Alejandria’s shoulder. Looking down at my past. Staring at what used to be. Drooping his head.

As soon as I made it to the bedroom, I flopped at the foot of the queen-size bed. Lowered my head and hugged the back of my neck with the palms of my hand. Rubbed, rubbed, rubbed. Richard closed the door when he came in, then sat near me.

“I’m sorry,” Richard said. He was pleasant. Each syllable was filled with apology. “But I love you. And I want you.”

I was so deep inside my own head that, well, I knew he was there, but I didn’t realize he was that close to me until he started talking. He’d snuck up on me the same way Nancy the Nympho had done that time I was butt-naked in the sauna.

“I don’t know what,” he said, and ran his fingers up and down my leg, “but I know something’s been going on between you two.”

“Stop.” I moved his hand. “Nothing’s been going on.”

I hopped up and went to the mirror so I could put some space between us. The scarf had loosened on my neck, showing me that the marks were just as bad as they were at sunrise. When I began combing my hair, Richard sighed and lay across the bed.

“One night I came over your place,” Richard started, “and when I walked in, you were hanging up the phone. You hung up real quick. In fact, you slammed the phone down. You said you were surprised to see me so soon. You thought I was coming by later, and you said you were calling me to make sure.”

Richard’s reflection was in my face while he babbled. Whatever he was saying felt as interesting as listening to a six-year-old prattle. What he was saying was not new news. Richard usually came by my place late at night. As soon as we got engaged, he started popping up without calling, ringing my doorbell right after he closed up his shop. He did that so much, no particular night stuck out in my mind.

Richard laid on his back and closed his eyes. Guess he was tired of me studying him.

“At first I didn’t think much about it,” he continued. “The next morning, you hopped in the shower. And I decided to check my answering machine. Since I was the last person you said you called, I pushed the redial button.”

His circle dance was getting old. “Does this have a point?”

“It dialed more than my seven digits.”

“And?”

“Tyrel answered the phone.”

Something in me numbed, felt like I was having a stroke. The brush slipped from my hand. It fell on top of my foot, hardly made a sound. I know I called Tyrel, but only remembered one time for sure. When that bitch answered. That was a moment that changed everything.
If she hadn’t answered, I wouldn’t have gone to Palm Springs with Richard a week later. I remembered being jealous, but I didn’t remember slamming down the phone.

Richard was like the Energizer bunny, he kept on going. “I guess I walked in on you. I didn’t mean to. And I wasn’t snooping. Your door was unlocked. You knew I was coming over.”

I tried to think of something to say, but nothing came out. He sat up, opened his eyes, and watched me. I looked away.

If Richard did redial Tyrel’s number, that same heifer could’ve answered. Maybe Richard heard numbers and
assumed
I’d called Tyrel. It could’ve just as easily been Debra’s number, because Richard never spoke to Leonard and wouldn’t have recognized his voice. I’m not talking about the comical strong voice he used on stage, but the mild-mannered tone he had when he was kicking it at home and with his friends.

Yeah, Leonard could’ve answered the phone. It could’ve even been Bobby. Hell, Tyrel could’ve been here for all I know. It didn’t take but a second to come to a conclusion; he was bluffing. Either way, I was offended because he’d rummaged through my life and violated my privacy.

I said, “Richard, why are you lying?”

He shook his head. “That’s the best you can do?”

Tyrel’s bedroom door clicked open. Then it closed. I stopped doing whatever I was doing and looked in that direction. When my attention came back, Richard was smirking at my reflection. His eyes were still on top of mine, and I did my best to push them off.

Richard said, “Shelby, why’re you looking so paranoid?”

“Why’re you doing this?”

“If you don’t believe me, run over there and ask him,” Richard said. “But
you
already knew.
He
already knew. Both of you are just playing it off.”

“There’s nothing to play off. Since you claim to have talked to him, you’d know I haven’t talked to him.”

Richard raised his voice a little. “That’s not what he said.”

I said, “Why would he lie?”

“Why would he?”

“One of you is lying, and both of you are tripping.”

“You’re wrong. Both of
you
were lying. He just admitted it right in front of your face and you still won’t be straight.”

“What did he admit?”

Richard said, “That you two have been talking.”

“No, he said it was nice to talk to
you
again, not me.”

“Well, if you had never talked to him, then he would have never talked to me.”

“I never talked to him.”

“Maybe I’m wording the question wrong. Did he talk to you?”

Enough was enough. I opened my suitcase and jerked out a pair of pajamas, toothbrush, and toothpaste.

Richard asked, “You going to answer me or what?”

I threw my pajamas over my shoulder, then snatched out a container of Noxema to clean the hostile emotions from my face. My head throbbed with each heartbeat. Richard sounded muffled, like he was moons away from my life.

After I slammed my suitcase shut and threw it back into the closet, I headed for the door.

Richard asked, “Where are you going this time?”

I didn’t answer.

I left the door open so he could see that I didn’t stray in the direction of the tyrant’s chamber. When I made it to Debra’s door, I gave one last glower back to see if Tyrel was in the hall. He wasn’t. And for a moment I hated both of those bastards. Then in the next beat, my face softened. I was relieved and disappointed.

Debra was snoring. Not much and not loud. I went around the bed and kneeled by her face, wondered what she was dreaming about. I used to always dream about my momma. Used to dream I was on the plane, working first class, and she was right there, on row one in seat A. Sitting and smiling at me. Whispering that she was
proud of what I’d done with myself. She’d ask me for a hug, and I’d tell her I had to serve the other passengers first. I’d turn around and somebody like Blair Underwood or Robin Givens or Whitney Houston would be waiting for a refill on their champagne. And when I turned back around, Momma would be gone. I’d wake up so sad.

I wished I could get inside of my girlfriend’s dream.

Debra smelled freshly showered; her skin was lit by the night-light on her side of the double sink inside the bathroom. My knees popped when I stooped. Debra didn’t flinch. I watched my best friend for a couple of minutes. And I smiled. Then I pushed Debra’s hair back and kissed her cheek. When I sat back on the floor, I heard a clock ticking on Leonard’s side of the bed. I eased over and took the batteries out.

I whispered, “Peace.”

After I showered, I threw Debra’s paper plate with the half-eaten lasagna into the small plastic trash container inside the bathroom door, then slipped into the bed. I shifted around a bit, found comfort on a decent mattress, moved closer to Debra’s warmth. I wanted to be alone, but didn’t want to be by myself.

I always felt stronger when I was with Debra. More in control. It was a good thing Debra was asleep so I didn’t have to blunder my words trying to explain or rationalize. But on the other hand, I hated that I was awake in the middle of the quiet because I was so absorbed in thought. Too many thoughts were rolling in too fast. Galloping in so fast it felt like each old one was being trampled by the new one.

For a long time I tried not to keep moving around too much and ended up on my back staring at the ceiling, marveling at how jacked up one life could be.

All of this madness would start again tomorrow.

Tonight I’m not gonna cry. And I’m gonna make myself sleep.

I was with Leonard.

We were driving someplace I had never been before. A narrow road with blooming greenery on both sides. We were moving swiftly, but I didn’t feel a breeze. There wasn’t even a slight bumpiness in the pavement. A smooth ride. I couldn’t tell who was driving or even if the car had a steering wheel.

Leonard was laughing hysterically as he recited some of his new material to me. I couldn’t hear what he said, but I knew it had to be funny because I couldn’t stop laughing.

Then it became bright.

Leonard smiled. “It’s time for me to go back.”

“Back where?” I shielded my eyes from the brightness.

Leonard gazed directly into the light. “To work. I’ll save you and Debra and Shelby a table. Kiss Debra for me, all right?”

“Leonard?”

“And rub that belly too.”

The light became brighter. Too brilliant for me to see. Then, just as quick as the light appeared, it vanished. It disappeared. When I moved my hands from my eyes, Leonard was gone. I tried to call his name. No sound came from my mouth.

* * *

I woke and glanced at the digital clock: 3:43
A.M
. I knew I’d just dreamed something, but I couldn’t remember what.

Debra was on my mind, and I had the urge to check and see how she was doing. See if she could sleep. If she was up crying. Maybe up pacing the floors. I went down the hallway to her room and put my ear to the
door, didn’t hear anything, then I pushed it open enough for me to stick my face in.

The thin beam from the hall night light fell across Shelby’s face. She still slept on her back. She’d kicked the covers off her. Her legs were twisted and her hair tangled in her face. Paisley pajamas. I walked over to Shelby and looked in her face.

Without her makeup on she looked young and innocent. And I knew she was everything but virtuous. I put my finger on her bottom lip and gently pulled it down. It made a subtle popping sound when I let it go. I froze when she reached up and scratched her nose. Just as I started to back away, I wondered what it would be like to touch her lips again with mine. Wondered if she still tasted the same.

My lips touched hers, and I smiled through my sleepy eyes. Chocolate always tastes sweet. I kissed my fingertips, then lightly touched her face and ran them across her lips. Her mouth was open a little bit, so I put my finger inside and stole more of her nectar. Chocolate always tastes sweet. I looked down at her thighs and thought of repeating the ritual.

I went around to Debra’s side and kissed her on the cheek. When I stood up to leave, Debra sat up and said, “Night, Tyrel.”

Her voice was clear. She wasn’t asleep.

I asked, “You okay?”

She made an unsure sound.

I scratched my butt and went back over and sat next to her. Rubbed her belly. She put her hand on my hand. Again, I asked her if she was all right.

“Yeah.” She didn’t open her eyes. “I keep waking up. You?”

I yawned. “Woke up a minute ago.”

“I’m sorry.” She patted my hand. “I must’ve woke you up when I checked up on you. Thought I heard you talking, and I clicked the light on for a second. I was worried.”

“That’s okay. Get some sleep.”

“You, too. Night, baby.”

When I opened the door, Richard Vaughn was standing in the dark, right outside his room.

I yawned, went back to my room. Fell asleep trying to remember my dream.

“You asleep?” Debra said.

Debra had been up since the crack of dawn. When her alarm-radio blasted on at five a.m., KJLH’s
Front Page
kicked into my dreams. I woke up, tried to hold a conversation, but I dozed off before Cliff and Janine What’s-her-face took over at six a.m.