Erotic City (8 page)
She rolled onto her back and opened her eyes, looking at the tray ceiling. She began her daily PC muscle exercises, or Kegels, and tried to stop her mind from racing. Her home phone rang. The cordless was on the dresser and not on the charger on the nightstand. She jumped up and took long steps, reaching over to grab it before the third ring, noticing that the call was blocked. “Hello.”
“Let me talk to Lavender.” The all-too-familiar voice was stern and rushed.
Milan’s eyebrows dipped. “You know what, Ramada? You need to learn to say hello when you call.”
“I’ll call back. Let it go to voice mail.”
“You can just go ahead and call him on his cell, that’s what you can do. Don’t you ever call here again after you had the nerve to—”
Click.
Pissed off, upset, and disgusted, Milan’s middle finger wanted to press redial and her mouth wanted to take over from there, using the words
bitch, ho, freak, psycho, and fucking piece of stank ass shit.
But Milan’s better judgment took over. Her man’s baby’s mama, who had just filed bogus charges, already knew not to call. Especially Milan’s home. And so, Milan put the cordless on the cradle where it belonged and headed to the bathroom. She snatched on the light and closed the door. The phone rang again, four times, and then stopped. It was all she could do not to tackle the phone and beat Ramada to a pulp with her words.
Minutes later she crawled back into bed and brought the purple covers to her chin. But she couldn’t help but grab the cordless, dial her own number, and enter her password. She held the phone with a firm grip.
“Lavender, this is your one and only son’s mom giving you a heads-up to let you know that I have filed a petition to increase the child support amount since you’re rollin hard enough to co-own a club and didn’t tell me. Hell, you said you lost all of your boxing money in bad investments. Liar. Anyway, don’t say I didn’t tell you.”
Click.
Milan pressed the end button and pushed the phone back onto the charger just as Lavender walked into the room looking sweaty and tired.
“Hey,” he said. He spoke while tossing his gym bag and walking straight to the dresser, rummaging through the one bottom drawer that contained his underwear, pajama bottoms, and some white tees. He grabbed a shirt and threw it onto the bed and approached Milan as she lay back with her head propped up upon two boudoir pillows against the headboard. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Good morning.”
She gave a quick frown. “Morning. Lavender, you need to tell Ramada to stop calling my house again. It makes no sense to me that she would call repeatedly other than to piss me off. I know you didn’t give her the number, but she got it anyway. Maybe from when Taj called from here but the bottom line is she uses it. And for her to have the nerve to call after what happened the other night is just insane. I’m gonna have to change my number now.”
Lavender gave a concerned frown. “What happened?”
Milan tucked the sheet under her arms and then used her hands to accentuate her frustrations. “She just called and I told her to call you on your cell. But she had the nerve to tell me to hang up so she could leave a message. I’m telling you, Lavender. I’m about fed up with her. You need to check her.” Milan grabbed the phone, dialed voice mail, entered the code, and held it out toward him. “Listen to this damn message she left. Press one.”
Lavender took the cordless, pressed one, and sat on the edge of the bed, bending down to take off his gym shoes. He sat still and listened, and then disconnected the phone, placing it on the bed. He took his cell from the leather holder along his waist and dialed Ramada’s number. He pressed the speaker icon, inhaling loudly, exhaling even louder, talking right over Ramada’s live greeting.
“Ramada, why are you calling Milan’s house?”
“Because you damn near live there. I always know where I can find you.”
“You can find me on my cell. You’re calling here to fuck with Milan. I’m telling you for the third time, do not call this number again.”
“Or else what?”
Milan sat back and stared at the back of Lavender’s head.
“Ramada, we shouldn’t even be talking on the phone after the other night.”
“Did she give you the message I left?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Lavender leaned forward and rubbed his eyes. “Let me talk to Taj.”
“No.”
He got louder. “Ramada, put him on the phone.”
“No. He’s sleeping.”
“Wake him up.”
“I’m not waking him up. He barely slept last night after having trouble breathing. And I, for one, am relieved to see that he’s getting some sleep.”
“Oh, so he’s snoring again?”
“Yes.”
“Funny. He doesn’t snore when he’s with me.”
“You just don’t notice it. You’re probably too busy banging your swinging woman.”
Milan buttoned her lip and tossed away the sheets. She arose from the bed, entered the bathroom.
“Like I said, he doesn’t snore when he’s with me.”
“How can you even hear him? You snore, too.”
“Maybe that’s why it bothers you so much.” He cut his eyes toward the bathroom door and noticed that Milan still had a glimpse of him.
“Oh please. So, you’re saying his snoring reminds me of you? You’re so egotistical.”
“You couldn’t stand it when I snored. You complained all the time.”
“This has nothing to do with that.”
“Maybe you can’t get your sleep, so you’re making a big deal out of it.”
“Why does everything revolve around you? Your son could have serious problems when he gets older if he doesn’t have this surgery.”
“I’ve checked with doctors who say he’ll outgrow it.”
“He won’t. He’ll end up sleeping with a C-Pak machine. Do you want your son to grow up like that?”
“Ramada, make sure you have Taj call when he wakes up. And I’ll get him Wednesday after school.” He stood up and grabbed the cordless.
“Did you get my message?” Her annoyance was thick.
“I said yes.”
“But you didn’t tell me what you thought.”
“What about it?” Lavender stood next to Milan’s nightstand and set the home phone down.
“You must have an audience. You’re acting so foul.”
Milan exited the bathroom with her toothbrush in her mouth and walked out of the room and down the hall.
“Good-bye.” He disconnected his cell and took the same path out of the bedroom and down the hall as Milan, who was still naked, standing in the kitchen upon the blond Pergo floor.
Milan opened the stainless steel refrigerator and stared inside. Her eyes switched between the orange juice and the bottled water. “You know none of this has anything to do with a last name, or seeing my house, or little Taj’s adenoids, for that matter. That woman is still in love with you.” She grabbed a carton of juice and shut the fridge.
“She’s not in love. She’s just a damn pain in the ass.” Lavender leaned back against the counter as his cell rang. Ramada’s name appeared. He pressed ignore.
Milan opened the cupboard and took a glass from the shelf. She set it down and poured half. “Yes, she is that. A royal pain in the ass for both of us.”
“And I’m sorry about that.”
“You two need to talk about what’s really going on.” She downed half of the juice in one long gulp.
“Nothing.”
“Then why is Ramada having such a hard time moving on? It’s really so obvious.” She drank the rest and placed the glass in the sink.
“She’s just a drama queen.”
Milan crossed her arms under her breasts. “Ten years with a drama queen, huh? Well, it would be really nice if I didn’t have your drama queen’s mess in my life. You’re in my life. What you go through, I go through. And I know that without your baby’s mama, there’d be no Taj. But I’d like you to protect me from all this crazy drama. If I had a baby’s daddy, I’d shield you.”
“I plan to. But as far as the surgery and child support amount, I’m standing up for both and I hope you do, too.”
“I want what’s best for Taj. It bothers me that he’s got a mother as wacky as her. But I’m not so sure he shouldn’t go ahead and have that procedure done.” She picked up her toothbrush from the countertop.
“Why?”
“If it’s gonna help him in the long run, why not get it done while he’s young?”
“Because he might outgrow it.”
She pointed the toothbrush in every direction as she spoke. “The doctors would know best. It’s a shame that you two can’t iron that out without going to court. Next thing you know, she’ll file a petition for that, too. You guys are in and out of court more than anyone I know. It’s like a substitute for screwing or something. All that damn misplaced passion.”
“She’s just trying to make me miserable.”
“Yeah well, she’s making us miserable. Not to mention the crap at the club.” Milan headed out of the kitchen and back down the hall.
Lavender spoke while following her. “So, what’s up with the charges against the club anyway?”
“I’ll know later today.”
“We need to know at the same time. I know you and Attorney Wyatt go way back, but if there’s any more communication with the lawyers, I need to be in on it.”
She did not look back. “Cool.”
“Make that happen.”
“I will.” She entered the bedroom and opened the panty drawer next to her bed, rummaging through her G-strings and V-strings and XYZ-strings.
His tone seemed milder. “Milan, if we can get away tomorrow, just for one night, let’s do it. Let’s go to our spot in Panama City and celebrate our first anniversary.”
She spoke while selecting a strawberry lace pair of undies with a pink-jeweled butterfly that perched at the crack of her ass. “That sounds good.”
“And thanks for putting up with all of this mess.” Lavender was right up against her cheeks from behind and he
hugged her around her waist. His hands were clasped along her pierced belly button where her sunburst tat resided.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back along his chest. “Lord knows you deal with enough baggage that comes along with being with me. It’s a give and take. And so, I’m in this with you.”
“And so am I. You’re my girl?”
She turned toward him. She pressed her breasts to the fabric of his gray T-shirt. His freshly pumped muscles rippled beneath. He had a chest that would give any man pec envy. Her hand rested on his boxing glove tattoo. She looked up and into his eyes. “I’m your girl.”
He peered down at her tits and gave a devilish grin. Down below, Lavender junior was slowly receiving the message that something was up.
The beep tone sounded on his phone. He looked down by his side. He had
1 new voice mail.
Milan shifted away from him and proceeded to her closet saying, “Damn, that was a long-ass message. And just how freaky were you guys cause she is still straight-up dick whipped?”
Lavender shut down the power to his phone. He lost his grin and lost the thrill of his frustrated hard-on.
Ramada’s timing always had a way of fucking things up.
“After the Love Is Gone”
Friday, March 30, 2007
9:11 p.m.
L
ess than one year earlier, Ramada Hart awoke from a long nap with Lavender in his Fairburn home. The afternoon had quickly wound into a dark sky that fell over them as they slept. She glanced at the digital clock and couldn’t believe her eyes. Time had flown in slumber land. As usual, their time spooning together knocked her out like a left hook.
She turned toward Lavender and planted a loud kiss on his forehead. He opened his brown eyes and gave a woozy smile. He shut his eyelids in slow motion.
Ramada reached under the maroon satin sheets and took his dick into her hand. It was tucked away and at rest. She found her way past the drawstring of his plaid boxers and went skin-to-skin upon his resting package.
It was as though his penis was alone with her and it was willing to play suck-and-cum without its master, if she would only keep things between it and her. It grew gradually as though to stay low-key. Lavender’s eyes reopened slowly. But his little man couldn’t help but continue its sneaky expansion. Lavender turned onto his back and Ramada prepared to place herself up close and personal, when he moved her hand away. He pulled back the covers and threw his right leg to the side of his California king bed, springing to a stance, wiping his eyelids with the back of his hand. He headed straight to the bathroom. He said not a word.
She lay upon her back and placed her forearm over her eyes. She remembered that Lavender was mad about a phone call from her long lost ex earlier that day. She and Lavender had fallen asleep at odds. The few hours of slumber did nothing to erase his memory.
Ramada slipped from the bed in her midnight blue pajamas and threw on a cream-colored, ruffled robe.
After so many years, she knew better than to push the issue. She needed to give him time. It was his jealous streak that she knew so well.
He always gets like this when he starts trippin about someone else
, she said to herself.
She headed to the front of Lavender’s ranch-style home toward the kitchen. On the way she walked past Taj’s bedroom door. He had spent the day at his best friend’s house in the subdivision. The young boy’s mother had called Ramada right after Taj was dropped off to ask if he could stay until Sunday. Ramada agreed because she knew the boy and his family were moving to Dallas the next month and he’d no longer be able to see them. And also because she and Lavender had been talking about going to Erotic City anyway.
Lavender walked into the long and narrow kitchen and grabbed a small Capri Sun from the ebony refrigerator while Ramada prepared to make a cup of evening coffee. “Are you sure you want to go out?” she asked.
“I’m sure.” Lavender inserted the tiny straw, keeping an eye on Ramada. “Coffee this late?”
“I wanna make sure I stay up.”
“We just had a three-hour nap. You’ll be up.”
Ramada scooped heaping teaspoons into the filter. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Are you?”
“I’m good.”
“Good. I’ll get dressed. You wanna leave in about an hour?”
