Authors: Electa Rome Parks
Loose Ends (16 page)
“Kree’s a lucky lady.”
“You damn right. I have baby girl singing.”
“And . . . she has some breasts on her, about a thirty-six-C, big, round, firm . . .”
“Okay, watch it now.”
“I have eyes, my brotha,” Christian said in a mocking tone.
Lunch continued with laughter, and an old friendship was slowly being rekindled. It felt like I was home again.
Kree
I absently chewed on another fingernail and silently cursed myself for not breaking my annoying habit. I half listened as Mother ranted on and on with so-called advice on how to handle my current situation with Christian and Mia. I made the mistake of mentioning that we would probably go out with them again.
Mother finally took a breath. I started to chew on another nail with the phone balanced on my left shoulder.
“So how does she look?” Moms asked.
“I’m not going to lie. She’s a beautiful woman.” I wasn’t about to tell her that Mia and I shared a more than slight resemblance to each other. I still couldn’t believe it myself.
“Yeah, that would make sense. Brice isn’t the type of man who would be attracted to a homely, plain Jane.”
I murmured something into the phone.
“So?”
“So, what?”
“Tell me more. What happened? How was it?”
“Mother, can’t we please talk about something else? How is Miles?” I asked with mild irritation in my voice. I was also mentally picturing what was in the freezer that could be thawed out and cooked for dinner by the time Brice arrived home.
“Girl, we can talk about that irresponsible brother of yours later. Another one of his get-rich schemes has failed. Anyway . . . fill me in.”
“God, okay! We talked, listened to music, ate dinner, drank some wine, talked some more and then left. Now are you happy?”
“That’s all?”
“Mother, exactly what were you expecting? Nothing really happened. Mia was as uncomfortable as I was.”
“What about Brice?” she inquired.
“What about him?”
“Was he checking Mia out? Going out of his way to be near her?
“No, no, not at all.” I didn’t dare tell her that I had caught Brice, more than once, with his roving eyes traveling all over her body.
“Well, that’s good. How was this Christian person?”
“Oh, Christian was cool. I can see how he and Brice were such great friends.”
“Oh, finally some enthusiasm? Did I actually hear some excitement in your voice?”
I didn’t even acknowledge that question. I admit, I did like Christian. He seemed very sincere and decent, not to mention fine. Not wasting any time, Mother soon moved on to her next question.
“How did little Miss Mia act?”
“Mother!”
“Girl, shut up and answer my question. I’m trying to get a clear picture here, because obviously you can’t see past those rose-colored glasses you’re wearing.”
“Mia . . . she seemed nervous in the beginning, before her three glasses of wine. She was trying hard to be friendly, but you could tell it was somewhat forced.”
“But no passion-filled looks?”
“No, Mother,” I said with obvious frustration in my voice now.
“None?”
“It’s obvious that Christian and Mia are very much in love with each other. They looked and acted very happy together.”
“Well, you met, you saw, you left. So why another get-together?”
“I don’t know. That’s Brice’s friend and we don’t know anyone else in the city and—”
“Yeah, that’s Brice’s friend and, most important, also his ex-wife. Girl, I’m telling you, don’t let that—”
“So how’s my big brother?”
“Child, that’s another hour on the phone. I’ll give you the short version. That son of mine has lost over seven thousand dollars to some half-baked business scam, and Vanessa is threatening to leave him.”
It wasn’t funny, but I kinda chuckled. Miles was forever coming up with some type of get-rich scheme. Even when we were children, he always had a hustle of some sort going. He had big ideas, but they never took off. I had heard that this marriage, marriage number two, was kinda shaky. I guess this was the last straw. I’d give him a call in the next few days. There was a six-year difference between us, but we were still close, as brothers and sisters go.
“Vanessa will forgive him and they’ll work it out.”
“I hope so for his sake, because she’ll take his ass to the cleaners with child-support payments.”
Mother and I talked for a while longer about things going on with her, how I was going to start helping Brice out at his office, and we finally ended the conversation with I love yous.
Mia
Time flies, and it was roughly two and a half weeks after our reunion with Brice and Miss Kree. Talk about a blast from the past. That evening was an absolute trip. I still can’t believe I actually sat in my living room with my husband, ex-husband and his wife, who looks like a younger version of me, and laughed and talked as if it were the most natural, routine thing in the world to do. I must admit, after an initial awkward moment or two had passed, the self-proclaimed reunion went smoothly.
Brice hadn’t changed much in physical appearance. My ex-abuser always took great pride in his body and general appearance. It paid off, because Brice was still as fine as ever, and believe me, he still knows it. As for the rest of the package, I couldn’t figure him out. Of course, Brice was on his best behavior for my benefit, because I’m sure Christian had informed him that I was skeptical of the meeting. However, it didn’t really matter. I did my part, and Christian was ecstatic, so I was happy. I’d do almost anything for my man.
Kree, on the other hand, was still a mystery to me. I knew it was not a figment of my imagination, but the girl—correction, woman—looked like me. What’s up with that? Kree could have been my younger sister. Yeah, she had long hair and was taller, but everything else was me. Christian mentioned he could see a slight resemblance. Yeah, right, there was more than a slight resemblance.
If Kree enjoyed Brice telling her what to do, what not to do, then more power to her. As for me, I’d been there and done that. Never again. Not in this lifetime. That shit about, “Oh, Brice doesn’t want me to cut my hair. He likes it long,” and then she stared at me. The way I see it, if it’s my hair, then I can cut it off as bald as Michael Jordan if I feel like it. Yeah, the days of a man—namely Brice—controlling me are over.
Other than a few phone calls I answered and quickly handed off to Christian, I hadn’t spoken with Brice or Kree since our get-together, and that was fine with me.
Today was a gorgeous, mid-June summer day in Atlanta. The sky was the bluest blue. Everywhere, flowers were in bloom, and the sights and sounds of the city filled my ears.
I love Atlanta! It is such a charming, yet sophisticated, vibrant city. The hub of African American history. I was casually strolling down Peachtree Street, enjoying the scenery. I didn’t have to rush home to anyone or anything. Lyric was at Mama’s house and Christian was working another twelve-hour shift because one of his employees had called in sick. That’s what I love about being a teacher; my summers are my own.
I had just left the fabulous Fox Theater’s box office to pick up concert tickets. Jill Scott, Maxwell and a few other artists were performing there in another week, and I wanted to surprise Christian with tickets. He was going to be pleased, because Jill Scott was his girl. And Maxwell was my man! I love to do special things for Christian, and he is always so appreciative.
I was leisurely strolling, stopping now and then to look into a few storefront windows. I wasn’t really looking for anything, just enjoying a summer walk. I must have been looking good, because a few businessmen, who probably worked farther down on Peachtree Street, were giving me seriously appreciative looks. I did look kinda sweet with my hot-red halter top, a reddish-orange wraparound skirt that stopped just above my knees, and sexy skin-tone sandals fastened around my ankles. Oh, and let’s not forget my red crystal toe ring. I had gotten my hair washed and set the day before at Backstreet Hair Salon. Miss Shirleen had hooked me up. I must admit, I was seriously working it.
I looked up and around, pulled out of my daydreaming when I heard a deep, familiar voice call my name. Standing less than two feet away, decked out in a navy blue business suit and carrying an attaché case, stood Brice, smiling and showing his pearly whites.
Even though it had been a few months since Brice had been discharged from the military, he still maintained a low cut just as Christian did. He looked like he had had a recent edge up and trim. I took Brice in from head to toe before speaking, because I was shocked to see him. I immediately felt uncomfortable being alone with him, even though we were standing in the middle of one of the busiest blocks in Midtown around lunchtime.
Brice spoke first to break the silence.
“Hi, Mia. Imagine running into you. What are you doing down this way?” he asked less than a few inches from my face.
“Hi. I had a few errands to run, but I was just about ready to head home.”
We stood there for a few seconds, not sure what to say to each other.
“Have you had lunch yet?” he asked, gently grabbing my elbow to move me out of the way of the lunch-hour pedestrian traffic that was passing by.
“No, I’ll probably grab a burger or something on the way home.”
“That’s not a lunch. Come on, have lunch with me,” he stated as more of a command than a question.
“I don’t know. I really should be—”
“Oh, come on, Mia. You have to eat anyway, and I don’t bite. I know a great Jamaican restaurant not far from here, Bridgetown Grille.”
I was still hesitating, trying to think of a way out, but I hadn’t said no. I never could say no to Brice.
Before I knew it, Brice’s power of persuasion had won me over and we were walking a block over to the restaurant. Along the way, he was excitedly telling me about his plans for his newly formed security firm. I couldn’t help but smile at his obvious excitement and his passion for something he truly believed in. Brice always was passionate about his desires.
Brice and I made it to Bridgetown Grille and, as usual during the lunchtime rush, there was a wait of thirty minutes. We somehow managed to grab a seat on a nearby bench as an attractive black couple was being called to their table. Brice and I were seated a little too close for comfort, elbow-to-elbow, chatting about trivial matters to fill in the silent gaps.
When I caught Brice checking out my exposed thigh, my wraparound skirt having parted, I excused myself to the restroom in the far back corner of the restaurant. On the way to the restroom I kept thinking,
The nerve of Brice.
He didn’t even try to play it off. For a few seconds I had seen a lustful look in his eyes that I hadn’t seen in years. That look always came right before he screwed me like there was no tomorrow.
The nerve of Brice.
He didn’t even try to play it off. For a few seconds I had seen a lustful look in his eyes that I hadn’t seen in years. That look always came right before he screwed me like there was no tomorrow.
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