May the Best Man Win (3 page)

“Hold up, baby.” Ronald reached around me and grabbed the phone from out of my hand, just before I could hang it up. “This is an important call.”

He got up out of the bed, stark-naked, dick swinging, and walked into the other room like I was not even there.

He was back in the room within two minutes.

“Who said you could give out my number?” I asked angrily.

“Babe, Tony is an associate of mine. He called to tell me about a job he was trying to hook me up with.”

“Why couldn't he call your cell phone?” I said, getting under the covers and rolling over.

“It's off,” he mumbled.

“I thought you paid that with the one hundred dollars you borrowed two weeks ago,” I said matter-of-factly.

“I had to pay my aunt rent money I owed her.”

“Yeah, okay.” He must have thought I was a dummy.
He doesn't know he just got cut off financially.
I was not an ATM. I could tell now that he was on his way out of my life.
I don't get it. These guys don't have anything. They're not willing to work.
And they thought paying back owed money by fucking me good was breaking even.
Hell naw!
I wasn't a call girl and I wasn't going to be treated like one.

“Baby, you mad at me?” Ronald said as he snuggled up against me, trying to smooth me over with sex. It wasn't working.
I swear, Negros must be learning this shit in a secret club or something. Because every one of these bastards I have dated thinks that their dick is good enough to give me amnesia.
This was the last one. But what I was going to do was get me one good fuck in before I kicked his ass to the curb.

“Nah, baby,” I said, pushing my ass toward his dick, giving him a hint. “I'm not mad at all.”

That night was the last night I saw Ronald. I told him to keep the money he owed me and the dick I had ridden in on.

 

 

I woke up feeling around in my bed with my hands like a fat man trying to find his dick. My eyes were still trying to focus in the darkness of my room. There was a small bit of light that was coming through the curtains I had in my window. I was expecting someone to be in my bed with me. At least there was someone there last night. I had spent another night with a strange guy who I thought was “the one.” Again. Don't worry, we practiced safe sex and all of that. I was a latex ho for sure. His ass must have slipped out the door when I rolled over last night.
I guess he wasn't the cuddling type.
He busted and broke out like a bad rash. But it was all good. I knew
he
was coming. You know . . . the one.

“Shit, I'm going to be late for work.” I jumped up out of the bed and briskly walked down the short hall to my bathroom. It was almost seven o'clock and I had to be in the office at eight. “I'm so dead.”

I took my job seriously and my boss did too. He was such an uptight, by-the-rules boss. He was gay and he acted like he didn't get the memo. He didn't have to be me and my fabulous self, but damn get the dildo out of your butt and live. I never said that to him, thank God, even though it almost slipped a couple of times. I didn't hate him. I just thought that he should loosen up a little.

 

I walked into work and breathed a sigh of relief because I narrowly made it to work on time. I looked at Janice as I walked by and smiled. She smiled back. Before I got to my cubicle, I peeked back at her to see if she was writing down anything. She was so by-the-book as well. She said she minds her business, but I don't trust her as far as I can throw her. I wasn't good at any sport, so throwing her would be a feat. I laughed to myself and kept it moving toward my desk.

As soon as I sat down I got a text on my phone: Can I come over tonight?

Who is this? I texted back.

I still had no clue as to who I was talking to. My nose was wrinkled up in disgust and wonder.

Apparently, you weren't good because your number is not registered in my phone. Chew on that! Limp Biscuit! I was now smiling from ear to ear.
That will teach whoever his ass is to text me with some foolishness.
No text followed after that one.

I threw my phone in my top drawer of my desk and logged on to my computer. I had work to do.

My boss was unusually late coming in. I heard him greet Janice and a few others as he made his way in.

I peeked out of my cubicle briefly to see a slight smirk on his face. He was so uptight most of the time I didn't know if he was upset or his normal self. I just ignored him for the day and went on about my job tasks.

I loved my job and my life and, with the exception of no love life, I was a happy guy. I was raised in a two-parent home in Philadelphia along with one older brother and one older sister. Yes, I was the baby of the family and I loved it. I got everything I wanted or even asked for as a child; my parents conceived me ten years after my brother and sister, who were a year apart in birth. They were practically out of the house when I was in my teen years. I came out of the closet at about fifteen years old and both my parents took it well, although they were a little hesitant in the beginning. I migrated to Maryland when I decided to go to school out of state. I decided to get my schooling done at University of Maryland Eastern Shore. Being away from home was so liberating and scary at the same time. I had flare and an opulent taste that many weren't ready for. Don't get it twisted, I wasn't a complete fem queen or anything, but I dressed in any color I felt like and I wore whatever I put on well. I was on every committee they had when it came to design and fashion, hence my major in design technology. Colors were my best friend and I worked UMES overtime when I attended the school. That's what I did here at the advertising agency. I worked my magic with design and I was getting paid well to do it. I lived here on my own and I was happy. Again, with the exception of my love life.

My workday went by pretty smoothly and I exited the building promptly at 5:00
P.M.
I had my shades on and my haircut was edged up to the T. I hopped into my little Honda Civic and pressed on my way. And, yes, I said Honda Civic. I was fabulous in everything, even my car, but I was not going to let a car drain my pockets. My clothes had to be top notch at all times and “fresh” cost money.

I pulled up to my house in the Avalon, a gated housing community, and exited my car, but before I could walk toward my door an Asian-looking woman popped out of a car that was parked right behind me, blocking me in.

She was yelling at me in her language, which I assumed was Chinese or something. She was one of them Rice-A-Roni, no-chairs-at-the-table-having bitches. She had a deranged look on her face. I eased my hand in my pocket for the Mace that was on my keychain.

“What? Who are you?” I said as I consciously backed up onto the cemented sidewalk. She kept on rambling in her language.

“Lady, what are you talking about? English . . . speak English.” I looked around, hoping no one was lurking or looking. It was a quiet community and I liked it that way.

“You fuck husband?” she asked, but already knew the answer. She was going to have to prove it or get the hell out of my face.

“Who
is
your husband?” She looked like no man would go near her with a ten-foot dick but I didn't say that. She looked like she wanted a fight. I was a lover and a fighter, meaning I loved a good fight, verbally and physically, as a teenager. I had grown out of that at my age, but she looked like she wanted me to dip back into my past and have me pull out a good ol' ass whipping for her ass.

“You know husband , because he not come home. I watch he come out you house. Us live across from you home. How could you ruin happy home?”

“Miss, he said you all were sister and brother.” I'd seen them before in the exercise room and they showed no type of affection toward each other. I just took him for his word that they were brother and sister. He was a very attractive Asian man and I couldn't see him with her so I believed him when he said that they were brother and sister. I guessed this was entirely my fault for not investigating and only going by what it looked like. He was in a hurry to get down with it, too, which should have been my first clue. He was also too familiar with my asshole. He knew how to tease it and then please it. No hesitation. A newbie would have fumbled around a little but he didn't. He went straight for it the first time we fucked.

His ass wasn't lacking in the dick department, either. That little dick Asian myth must have skipped him. He banged it out for a good hour. He loved me long time. I snickered out loud at my last thought.

“You think me laugh?” She lunged toward me and the pepper spray materialized out of my pocket and right in front of her face. She froze instantly.

“Make my day, bitch, and your ass will be scrambling on the ground and crawling around like Ray Charles reincarnated trying to find the ass you didn't have to begin with.” She backed up as I knew she would. “Confront your husband. He lied. Plus, I can't turn off all of this goodness. Shit, but I can take you in my house and make you over so he can give you what he gave me last night.”

Her mouth dropped in shock. I was serious. She just turned and walked away from me. A sloppy-haired ponytail, Juicy Couture jogging suit, and a flat ass is not a good combination.

“And let something happen to my car and I will do what I did with him last night again, but on purpose!” I spoke loud enough for her to hear me. She kept on walking and I turned and went to the door of my humble abode.

I couldn't believe that she caused a scene like that in front of my home. “I guess everybody got a little ghetto in them, especially when it comes to some good wood.” I spoke and then laughed to myself as I entered my apartment.

I had showered and shaved, and was getting ready to doze on off to sleep when my front doorbell chimed.

“I know this ugly Asian bitch isn't knocking on my door about her well-endowed husband.” I was still naked and loved to be that way. I huffed as I threw on some boxers, lavender silk lounging pants, and slippers and walked to my door. I peeped through the peephole to see who it was. I was angry with whoever it was because I was watching
The Color Purple
and Celie had just got to my favorite part when she fell out on the dirt road when Shug left her hanging.

When I saw who it was I perked up a little and opened the door. He didn't even say hi; he just pushed the door open, and walked past me and into my living room.

“Your wife confronted me today!” I stood with my arms folded against my chest, waiting for an explanation.

“Me give her two Benadryl in wine. Her pass out and me come over here. I fuck you hard and fast and then me home.” He stepped out of his pants and underwear and started to stroke his dick. I knew I was wrong, but I had to get it at least one more time so on my knees I went.

After the blow job we made it into my bedroom; here he bent me over the foot end of my wooden sleigh bed.

“Him like this?” he asked. He was punishing me some kind of good. His wood was good.

“Yes.” I grunted out a moan because he bent me over so quickly that I didn't have time to put a pillow or towel in between me and the hard wood of my bed, which was pressing against my pelvic bone. I was a petite guy and right now I was wishing that I ate more like my mother had told me the last time I saw her about two weeks ago. “Give it to me . . . Give it to me hard.” I didn't know the next time I would be getting any so I might as well take what I can and suffer with the bruises later.

He pulled out. “Get on bed . . . on all four.”

I did as I was told as he climbed right behind me and entered me from behind. He immediately began to go back to work. My joyful whimpering encouraged him to thrust harder. He went from doggie style to froggie style and fucked me ferociously. He finished about fifteen minutes later and got up as quickly as he entered me.

I lay there while he walked into the bathroom. I heard the condom snap as he pulled it off of his penis and then he flushed it down the toilet. The shower ran for the next ten minutes while I continued to lie in the same spot he left me in. He dried off, dressed, waved, and then left. I didn't get up. I didn't move. I stayed in the position of a used fool for the rest of the night.

Love needed to find me and fast.

 

 

I sat on my chocolate suede chaise in front of my bay window with a bottle of wine and a broken heart. I cried as I stared out the window at the people passing. I was home alone, again. I had “Through the Rain” by Mariah Carey playing on the stereo. I was completely bummed. It had been weeks since I showed Ronald the door. On some nights, I was so lonely that I contemplated calling him up just to have someone to hold me at night. But I knew that it wouldn't be long before he was in my bank account again, so I ditched that thought.

I looked at the clock. It was only 8:30. I was a thirty-year-old young man sitting in the house on a Saturday.

“What in the hell happened to me?” I wondered. A year ago I was up in the club, sweating so hard that my shirt would cling to me like I had showered in my clothes. I had no friends, well, real ones anyway. Those days a gay man couldn't have gay friends and a man, because somehow my man and one of my friends would always end up sleeping together behind my back. Gay men are so promiscuous that it's a shame. So now I had neither.

I picked up my cell phone and scrolled through the possible candidates I could invite over for company— someone from my past. I knew I was acting desperate. Chalk it up as me being human and horny. Yes, I had my moments of promiscuity but for the most part I pretty much kept to myself. As I scrolled down my phone it began to ring. The caller ID showed it was my mother.

“Hello,” I answered with a sigh.

“Boy, what's wrong with you?” my mother asked. “You sound like you lost your best friend.”

“Nothing, ma, I'm just a little down.”

“My baby needs his mama to come over there and fix you some of my lasagna. That always makes you feel better.”

“No, ma, I'll be fine. I just need to get out of this house before I jump out the window.”

“Kardell, baby, you know I can always call one of the Carter girls over to cheer you up.” Mom loved me just as I was, but she still tried every chance she could to get me to go out on a date with a girl.

“Now, ma, you know that will only happen when pigs fly.”

“Don't make Mama throw some bacon out the window.”

She laughed. So did I, but harder.

“You never said how the pig was going to get in the air.” She laughed again.

“I knew that would get a laugh out of you.”

“You know ya sister baby daddy is acting up again,” she huffed into the phone. My sister, Angela, was a single mom, well sort of. She had a man, but he was in and out of her life like a three-minute man during sex. It was like choosing losers ran in my family. Truth was I wasn't surprised to hear this, because he did it all the time. She refused to let him go because she said “he has potential.” And she didn't want my nephew to grow up in a single household. She was blind because most of the time he was doing what he wanted to do anyway. When the street called, he answered, and she waited around for him to make it back home. When he made it back home.

“I don't know what to do with that girl.” She huffed again like I was going to try to offer a solution to the problem. She didn't know I was in the same type of predicament myself: denial. My sister didn't know that her baby daddy swung both ways either. It was news to me, too. About three months ago, I was downtown and I bumped into him in the Sportsman bar in Mount Vernon. I remembered it like it was yesterday.

That was about three months ago and I never told anyone, yet, and each time we saw each other now he tried to have conversations with me to ease the tension between us. He was an attractive man and I could see why my sister kept him around as long as she did. He was quite easy on the eyes.

“Ma, I don't know what to tell you. She loves him and he is her son's father. We just need to mind our business and let her be.” I know what you're thinking. She was my sister and I should have been spilling the beans. But she was one of them people you had to show and not tell. She's a “kill the messenger” type of person. I wasn't even going to touch that with a ten-inch stick. We already didn't see eye to eye most of the time as it was.
All I need is for me to go and tell her that her man is a bisexual and she is liable to curse me out and try and tell me that I pursued him.
She believed that all gay men were on a course to take men from women for spite and sport. So not true, we only pursued the pursuer. If your man was gay, then it would come out eventually. Gay guys didn't have to take what was already taken. She didn't believe that at all though. My sister, Angela, was a very pretty girl, but she had a nasty attitude and I wasn't going to add wood to an already-burning fire.

“Well . . . you're right, baby.” She sighed. “Your sister is just as stubborn as her father.” She laughed at that one. I did too. “So what are you doing tonight, just sitting in the house and moping?”

“I guess so, Ma.”

“Baby, why don't you come over here and keep me company since your father is gone again?” Oh, Lord, I loved my mom, but I could not get through a night with her.
She will have me shifting furniture or playing Scrabble or gin rummy all night long.
That wasn't my kind of night.

“No, thanks, Ma. I think I'm going to get dressed and go out.”

“Sure, baby, be careful. Love you, baby.” She blew a kiss into the phone.

“Love you too, Ma.” I hung up the phone and headed toward my closet in my bedroom. I pulled on some black linen slacks and a cream-colored short-sleeved button up. I hopped in the shower, washed off, and then got dressed. I practically ran to my Volvo and pulled off. I didn't even know where I was headed. I just needed to get out of the house.

I ended up heading out to the Sportsman bar/club. It was a familiar place to me. There was nothing like the familiar. I had some good times here and I met some good prospects.
Maybe, just maybe, I might find me a good guy out of the bunch who is in the club tonight. It isn't likely, but it's worth a try,
I figured.

I walked in the club at about 10:30; it was not jumping with young hoppers yet, so I was good. All I needed was a couple of twirling prissies to come in and ruin my night. I went to the bar and ordered me a rum and Coke, just to add to the buzz that I got from the wine I was drinking at home. I wasn't a heavy drinker, but tonight was different; I wanted to be. I was alone and I was disgusted with my choice in men. Maybe the drunken me could pick out a winner, because the sober me sucked.

I found a table in the corner in the back with an eagle-eye view of the bar and dance floor. I could see everybody who came and went. I sat in the corner for about forty-five minutes and three drinks later I was swaying to the beats of some of my favorite singers: Mariah Carey, Janet Jackson, Ciara, and, my ultimate favorite, Jennifer Hudson. Homegirl was a vocal force to be reckoned with.

The crowd was getting heavier as the night wore on. I noticed nothing but losers walking through the door. A couple of them had been bed buddies of my past. They glanced my way and scurried away like mice toward a hole. I didn't care, because I was over them.

But one dude caught my eye. He was a well-dressed older-looking guy. I'd say around forty years old. Low cut curly hair and goatee. He had toasted hazelnut–colored skin. My eyes danced with excitement. He looked sophisticated and classy, with a hint of a rough edge.
My type of guy.
This was the drunk me talking now. In my mind we had already done the deed and were nestled, sleeping in each other's arms.

“Excuse me, can I set my drink here?” I was brought back to reality with the brother I just sexed up in my quickie fantasy.

I screamed,
hell yeah!
in my mind. My mouth said, “Sure.”

“Thanks,” he said with a smile. His lips looked soft with a hint of wetness. “This place is packed,” he said as he took his jacket off and set it on the open chair next to me. He was well dressed with denim jeans and a cream-colored sweater vest alone. His arms were muscular but not overly so. I liked what I saw, but I didn't let on.

“Yeah, it is,” I said back nonchalantly. Before I knew it he was out on the dance floor, getting his groove on. All the young bucks flocked toward him as he jammed to song after song. He was out on the dance floor for about twenty minutes before he came back to the table to get his drink. I wanted to go out there and dance with him but I wanted to see what he could do first. I liked to observe my prospects for a while. I usually just sat here and let them come to me. Dancing was optional for me.

He looked good out there. I couldn't help but wonder how this brother worked in the bedroom. He had to be good. When I was a kid Mama always joked around with my aunt in the kitchen about their one-night stands from time to time. One time I heard her say, “He was good on the dance floor, girl, so I had to try him out in the bedroom.” They would both break out in a fit of laughter, carrying on wildly.

“Whew!” He came back to the table, grabbed a napkin, and wiped his sweaty brow. “Those young boys know how to work it out there on that floor. They keep an old boy like me blood flowing to all the right places if you know what I mean,” he said with a huge smile.

“Yeah, I bet,” I said with a little contempt in my voice. I wasn't a hater, but these young boys knew nothing about how to get and keep a man. All they wanted was a quick fuck and moved on. I knew how to romance a brother. Keep him coming back for more, and not just sexually either. I was smart, funny, and I knew how to hold a conversation. In retrospect I guessed none of that mattered to men and I was in the same vicious cycle as them.

“I'm pretty sure you know all about that though,” he said, sitting down and facing me. He was even more attractive up close. He had a few gray hairs in his goatee; to me that meant he was experienced. At least I hoped so. “What are you, about twenty-one, twenty-two?” he asked me.