Brothers and Wives (3 page)

“What y’all old bitches looking at?” I say to several
bifocal-wearing women. I hope their hearing aids aren’t working.

“Hey, Dani, where are you headed?”

I’d recognize that voice anywhere—Sharvette, aka Vette, Neil’s lovely younger sister. I’m focused on picking up my son, so I’m in no mood to talk. I try to ignore Vette, but she screams louder, “Hey, Dani, over here.”

I whirl around, ready to tell her I’ll get with her later, but when I see her holding Brax on her hip, the fight goes out of me.

“Awww, there’s my babyyy!” I step to him and plant a wet kiss on one of his fat, soft cheeks.

Vette explains. “I saw him with the other kids and couldn’t resist bringing him with me. I made him a plate of food, so he’s already eaten. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Nope, I don’t mind. Thanks, Vette. Speaking of food, I’m going to get me some right now. Will you find us a spot near the deejay booth? I’ll be right back.”

I stand in line and load my plate with barbecued brisket, baked beans, chilled veggie salad, and an ice-cold cup of lemonade.

Vette and Brax are sitting at a rectangular table inside the pavilion, which is only a few feet away from where the latest jams are being played. Scottie is stationed back at the music booth, spinning records and swaying to the beat.

“Glad you found us a good seat,” I tell her before settling down. I say my grace and dig in.

“Hmm, from the way you’re dressed, it looks like you want to find a
man.”

“Vette, please. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Dani, you’re dressed like you should be at the beach, not a family picnic where you know some of these folks are
preachers and deacons and mothers of the church. I’m telling you, they do not want to see all that.”

“Oops, well,
excuse me
. If I would have known this is a sanctified church convention, I would have worn my
Little House on the Prairie
dress and brought my three-inch Bible in case someone wants to hear a sermon. Get real, Vette. Most of these people don’t give a damn about me. They don’t even know me.”

“Oh, they know you all right. Some of them are just too classy to say anything. Better pray you don’t cross paths with the loud, opinionated ghetto side of our fam.”

All of a sudden, an elderly dark-skinned man wearing a clergyman’s shirt passes by.

“Good afternoon, sisters,” he says politely and waves, but he doesn’t stop.

“How you doing, sir?” I greet him and fold my arms over my breasts even though he’s just moved past us.

“See what I’m talking about?” Vette hisses at me. “That man shouldn’t be seeing your body parts. I don’t care how much of an adult he is. And you can bet most of my other relatives feel the same way.”

I scan the crowd. Watching so many unfamiliar people happily socializing and hugging makes me feel utterly alone—like I’m invisible, but I know I’m not because every few seconds, I notice a few folks checking me out on the sly. They’re probably wondering what I’m doing here, the former “other woman.” And I’ll bet they can’t wait to see what may happen when Neil’s wife and I cross paths. There’re often fireworks between me and Anya since our history is so emotionally raw.

Several years ago, Anya suffered from a hormonal disorder that left her with such a low sex drive she never
wanted to make love. She felt guilty for denying Neil sex and told her hubby it was okay by her if he found a mistress. At first, Neil was reluctant to find another partner. But then, being a man, he went for it. I was his cute, spirited coworker who had the hots for him. Back then, the man was everything I wanted. So we hooked up every time we could, anywhere we could, and enjoyed some of the most passionate, experimental sex I’d ever had. He fell in love. I did, too. Our son, Brax, was the “shocking” outcome.

I’m lost in deep thought until I hear someone say my name.

“And this next joint goes out to the gorgeous Ms. Dani F.” The voice is loud, excited.

I hear the thumping bass line of a Lil Wayne song. I slowly turn my head around until I get an unobstructed view of the deejay booth. Scottie grins in my direction.

Several couples spill onto the dance floor, singing and doing some funky hip-hop moves.

“My brother is giving you serious attention,” Vette says, winking. “What’s up with that?”

“We met, instantly clicked, exchanged numbers. I think he’s kind of cool,” I reply. Scottie and I lock eyes. I can feel Vette staring at us.

“Vette,” I beg. “Will you watch the baby for me?”

“Girl, go ahead and do your thing.” I thank her, then leap from my seat to the dance floor. I gyrate my hips and sing along to Lil Wayne’s rhymes. I love it that Scottie dedicated a song to me. I want to enjoy the moment and begin to dance like I’m performing onstage at the freaking Toyota Center.

“I don’t believe this shit!” LaNecia appears from nowhere, shouting at me as she approaches. This chick has the
nerve to stand in front of me, competing with me for Scottie’s attention.

“Who invited you here?” she asks.

What’s with her? Can’t she see I’m busy?

“Excuse me?” I ask, still rocking to the beat and shaking my ass. “Do I know you?”

“You may not know me now … but you will.” She rudely narrows her eyes on my outfit. “Why are you dressed like that? You know what they say about people who dress all skimpy like you?”

“No, I don’t know what they say. But fill me in.”

“You’re dressed like a whore. No, not
like
a whore …”

I stop dancing. “I
am
a whore? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Yep.”

“Look, little girl, whoever you are,” I say sarcastically.

“I’m LaNecia.” She points at a wooden necklace she’s wearing that spells out the sentence “LaNecia is the SH#&.” Obviously monogrammed. “Can’t you read?”

“I am a grown-ass woman, Miss LaNecia. I don’t know why you gots to be all up in my face. I was invited, if you don’t mind, and I’m about to finish dancing. The good part is about to come on.” I start rocking back and forth to the music again.

“You’re too old to be dancing to Lil Wayne anyway.”

“And how in the hell do you know how old I am?” I jiggle my butt and gyrate my hips.

LaNecia opens her mouth again like she’s about to go off on me. The clergyman returns and steps past us to talk to Scottie at the deejay booth. I do a bunny-hopping dance move and bounce over a few spaces past LaNecia so I can discreetly check out the happenings. The clergyman gestures
at Scottie like he wants him to please stop the music. Scottie shakes his head. Turns the music up louder.
Boom, boom, boom!
I can feel the cement floor vibrate like aftershocks rumbling under my feet.

Clergyman frowns and cups his hands over his mouth, yells something at Scottie. LaNecia swings her head around and storms over to the deejay booth, leaving me by myself. Soon she and the clergyman begin arguing.

I put two and two together. The way that she listens to the preacher, then points a hard finger at Scottie, I can tell she’s defending him. The question is, Why is she taking up for Scottie over a man of the cloth? And I want to know why she’s given me a lot of attitude when she doesn’t so much as know my name.

Meanwhile, I notice that people are now craning their necks and staring more at LaNecia’s antics than at me and my fancy dance moves. I slow things down a notch until I’m standing still. Thankfully, I hear my name being called and turn around to see Brax sitting on Vette’s lap. He waves happily at me. I wave back, then return to our table, take a seat next to them, and scoop Brax into my arms. I give him a loving hug. He squirms and yells, “No, Mommy, too tight!” I laugh, because I’m positive he knows I didn’t squeeze him
that
hard.

“All right then, fine. Be that way,” I say and cover my face with my hands and start sniffing loudly and moaning. “Ahhh,” I cry. I peek at Brax through my fingers. His mouth is wide open as he gapes at me with his big ole pretty eyes.

“Mama, don’t cry. Sorry.”

I look up, laugh, and squeeze his cheek. “Got ya, Brax.”

He laughs, too, giving me a toothy grin.

“Y’all so crazy, Dani. You are still the same, girl.” Vette
shakes her head and starts sipping on a clear plastic cup filled with lemonade and ice chips. “And that’s exactly why my cousin LaNecia feels threatened.”

I lean in closer. “I’ve noticed her bad attitude. What’s up with her?”

“I’m not sure you’re ready for this part of our family history.”

“C’mon Vette, quit messing around. I’m sick of this girl acting crazy with me, so go ahead and tell me. I can take it.”

“Here it goes. If you sense something is up between Scottie and LaNecia, you’re not imagining things. Um, they kind of took the ‘kissing cousin’ concept to the extreme a while ago….”

“Stop.” I cover my ears. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

Vette pulls down my hands. “If you plan on being involved with my brother, you need to hear this, trust.” She continues. “Scottie sometimes has poor judgment. He acts first, thinks later. That method has gotten him in tons of trouble. Don’t get me wrong. Scottie has a good heart. He tries very hard … but sometimes all that good is overtaken by the bad.”

“And where does that girl come in?”

“He got her pregnant….”

“I can’t take this!”

“Calm down. They lost the baby, and they’ve
been
over, but she thinks she’s in love with him.” Vette pauses. “And that confrontation y’all went through on the dance floor … prepare to go through much more than that if you’re interested in Scottie Meadows. LaNecia is the type to take you to hell and back.”

I sigh heavily and try to process what Vette has told me. Sounds like LaNecia is a crazy young lady that I may have
to introduce to my other side—the part of me that comes out to prove that I am more than just a pretty face. This pretty face can get downright ugly when it has to.

Suddenly Vette looks up and yells excitedly. This dark-skinned chubby girl parades to our table.

“What up, Karetha?” Vette greets her.

“Ain’t nothing up,” the girl responds. She looks like she’s in her early twenties. Although I try to make eye contact to say hello, she totally blows me off as if I’m not sitting right next to Vette. No biggie. I’m accustomed to all kinds of women ignoring me like they can’t stand the sight of me even though technically I’ve done nothing to deserve their attitude.

“Oops, I am being rude. Dani,” Vette says, “let me introduce you to Karetha, my cousin LaNecia’s best friend. When those two get together, don’t pay them any mind. They’re young and wild like the rest of the fam. Ka may as well be in the fam as much as she hangs around.”

Karetha produces a forced smile, and I want to throw up a hand and tell her, “Save the phoniness. Don’t bother.” But I swallow my pride and grin, extending my fingers for a handshake. “Pleasure to meet you. Hey, Vette, you don’t have to explain. I was their age once.”

Karetha starts snickering right in my face.

“Um,” I say coolly, “I don’t know why you think that statement is so funny….”

“Damn, Dani, please don’t start. You don’t have to turn every incident into an argument.” Vette smiles and rolls her eyes. “There’s already enough of that going on.”

Karetha laughs and glances briefly at Scottie, LaNecia, and the clergyman.

“That man of God doesn’t care too much for rap music,” Vette says. “But Scottie feels since he’s the deejay, he can play
whoever he wants. And poor LaNecia, of course, she’s gonna back Scottie. But I think they’re all trying to work things out. Some things just aren’t worth an argument.”

Several minutes pass as Vette and Karetha gossip while I spend time playing peekaboo with Brax.

We’re interrupted when Scottie and LaNecia wander over to our table. He apologizes for the commotion about the music and suggests we strike up a spades game while he takes a break. LaNecia immediately grabs his arm, pleading to be his partner, and he says okay. I look at Vette, but she shakes her head like she’s not interested. I decide to wave at Neil, who is seated two tables over. He quickly comes to see what I want and agrees to team up: me and Neil against LaNecia and his brother.

Vette holds Brax in her lap so they can watch us play. Neil is seated across from me, and Scottie is on my right side, with Vette and Brax on my left. LaNecia sits across from Scottie, and Ka is seated next to Neil.

“I’ll shuffle,” Neil offers, and he deals the first deck.

“First hand bids itself. No bidding,” Scottie instructs us.

I try to concentrate on my hand but find myself blushing when Neil offers me warm gazes from across the table.

“You bothered by something?” I ask Neil as he places a card on the table.

“What are you talking about?” Neil asks as LaNecia tosses her card.

“You keep giving me these peculiar looks. Watching me like a hawk.”

Neil studies Scottie and says, “Just making sure you’re not cheating.”

“Whoops, sorry, boyfriend,” I say to Scottie, as a warning that my card is about to beat his.

“He’s
not
your boyfriend.” LaNecia stands up and glares at me, then sits back down.

“Excuse me. Have you forgotten you’re just his little cousin?” I ask, just to antagonize her.

“Dani, not now,” Neil pleads. “Ignore LaNecia. It’s your turn.”

“Here, how’s that?” I slap down a king of hearts.

“Play ya game, baby. I ain’t mad atcha,” Scottie says.

I proudly scoop up the cards. We continue to play, and I’m trying to have fun. It feels good to know that, surprisingly, Neil and I are winning, earning more books than Scottie and LaNecia. Winning makes me feel good and powerful. Especially since my competition is clearly a woman who has eyes for Scottie Meadows.

“Neil? Dani?” Uh-oh. It’s Anya Meadows. Fine time for her to show up.

I take a long, hard look at Neil’s wife, a woman who sometimes acts catty with me for obvious reasons. Anya’s shoulder-length hair is filled with new auburn and blond highlights. Her slightly puffy stomach makes her resemble a kangaroo. And look at how she’s dressed. Her outfit consists of a multicolored hoodie (of all things) with a matching do-rag covering the crown of her head, a pair of gold macramé Egyptian sandals, and some extremely tight blue jean shorts. She’s standing at the card table next to Neil. Reese, their eight-year-old daughter, races by laughing as she’s being chased by a couple of rowdy boys.