Black & Ugly (14 page)

75

Triple Crown Publications presents . . .

Since Ed built me up and broke me back down in a matter of hours, I'm in a bad mood. Why is it that when you wanna change, other people won't let you?

I'm on the phone for three more minutes with Miss Wayne trying to convince him to leave me be then I end the call and go fast asleep.

~~~~

The banging on my door sounds like it could be the police for real until I hear Miss Wayne yelling, "Get up, bitch!"

BANG, BANG, BANG.

"The mothafuckin' pep squad is here."
BANG, BANG, BANG.

"Open this got-damn door."

BANG, BANG, BANG.

I walk to the door wanting to cuss all of them out

'cuz when he says pep squad, I'm sure Parade and Sky are with him, too. But if you know my friends, you'll know that cussing them out won't work.

"Yes," I say as I open the door.

"Hey, girl. You okay?" Parade asks as she hugs me with her hair still in place and lookin' cute.

This is different because Parade is hard on hairstyles. She doesn't know how to keep them for too long.

They don't last on me, either. That's why I always rock ponytails.

"Damn, bitch. Turn some lights on in here," Sky says as she opens up all my blinds.

I close the door and tie my robe.

"Damn," they all say when the light reveals my
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filthy apartment. I'm a little ashamed.

"Do you ever clean up, girl?" Sky asks. "You ain't pregnant, are you? I ain't ready to be no god mommy."

"And just what makes you think you would be the god mommy, bitch?" Miss Wayne says as he jumps in her face with his plum-smuggling jeans on.

"And what makes either of you think you would be the god mommy?" Parade proclaims as she pushes both of them. "'Cuz Daffany knows I'm the only one with good enough sense to take care of the baby. Tell

'em, Daffany," Parade says as she looks at me. "Tell them who'd be the god mommy. It's only right they should know now anyway."

"Well luckily for my unborn child, I'm
not
pregnant." I smile at my friends who were going back and forth in front of me. "Now I'm feelin' what you guys are doin', but I really want to be left alone. Please."

"How did things go with that guy last night?" Sky asks. "He came over to see you? That's why you tired?"

"No," I respond as I start to cry.

"What's wrong?" Parade inquires as she runs over to me. "What happened?"

"Let's just say it's true, you can't make a whore your housewife." My own words make me sick to my stomach.

"Fuck that mothafucka. He betta recognize that most housewives are whores anyway, chile. They fuck, suck and do anything else they can so these
mens
will take care of 'em," he continues, glancing at Parade.

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Triple Crown Publications presents . . .

You ain't no different. You just ask for yours up front." In a crazy way, he has a point.

"I feel you, Miss Wayne, but I'd really like to be alone right now."

I hate seein' the looks on their faces, but they'll be worse if I attempt to entertain them because although I don't want to admit it, Ed really fucked me up and it's hard to shake the feeling of not being wanted.

When people already know I trick and say it, I'm not fazed because it is what it is. But he believed I was a businesswoman. He believed I was a woman just doin'

the damn thing until somebody, knowing about my past, hated on me. Maybe I should just be who the fuck I am and stop worrying about what people think.

"Look, go in there for now and go to sleep. Let us take care of everything out here. Leave the door open, too," Miss Wayne continues, breaking me out of my thoughts. "We wanna get in there next." He pushes me toward my bedroom.

"No, serious guys," I say as I walk out. "I really want to be left alone."

"Bitch, get in that damn room," Sky yells. "We got this shit under control and you gonna thank us for it later, too."

"Yeah get in the room,
whore
." Miss Wayne laughs.

He's trying to make light of something he knows is bothering me, but hearing the words leave his mouth still hurts. I walk into my room then lie on my bed feelin' bad about sleeping while they clean my house and for being bad company, but the sound of them moving
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around helps me go to sleep because I know they care about me, no matter what.

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Triple Crown Publications presents . . .

9

Sky

THE NEWS HAS EVERYBODY STUCK. I wish I had never turned on the TV, but it won't change shit. First we were playing Taboo after cleaning Daffany's apartment. Now we are watching the results of a crime that I committed. Coming back into the living room I hear:

"Sources are calling this a robbery gone bad.

Apparently, the suspect attempted to rob the victim but
killed her when she refused to comply. Sources also say
Melony Walker was an active member of society, having contributed to six charities in the Washington, DC

area by donating funds and volunteering her time. She
is mourned by her husband, Tyler Walker, and infant
son, Chandler."

I abruptly turn the TV off before they see or hear more.

"Why you do that?" they all scream.

"'Cause we were playing a game, so let's play it."

"But we were lookin' at that," Miss Wayne says.

"I want to play the game," I whine, taking my orig-80

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inal place on the couch. "We can watch TV at home."

"I didn't know it was so serious," Daffany responds, remaining on the subject. "I wonder what happened," she continues as she looks over at me.

I know she's wondering if I had anything to do with it. And since she knows I don't go for disrespect, she's probably sure I had everything to do with it. But I ain't sayin' or admitting to shit and Parade betta not either.

"I don't know, but all I got to say is if she was so nice, she wouldn't've been at Donna's party. Everybody knows what pops off at her things," I observe.

"What does that say about us?" Daffany asks. "We went, too."

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't. So what ... she deserved to be killed?" Miss Wayne probes as he clutches the top of his shirt.

"Please tell me you're not that cold, Miss Sky."

"Wayne, stop being a drama queen. All I'm saying is that the media lies, and that people are soooo fake.

Why is it that when a person's alive she gets on everybody's nerves but when she dies, she is sorely missed?

It's bullshit!" I yell.

"Did you know her, Sky, or are you sayin' it was okay for her to die? Because I don't understand what your point is," Daffany interrogates.

"I'm not sayin' that it was okay for her to die, Daffany. Stop putting words in my mouth. I'm not sayin' shit about her deserving to die. I just know the media loves to make someone look like Mother Theresa when they're dead, instead of what they were really
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