My Daughter's Boyfriend (7 page)

Lauren 9

When I showed my face at the slumber party, no one else
had arrived. Miss Indira, Regis’s mom, conned me into toting party grub from the kitchen to the dining room. They set up a buffet that made me want to kiss Dennis Rodman: Buffalo wings with horseradish sauce, sliced pineapples and jumbo strawberries, tiny little egg rolls stuffed with shrimp, ice-cold beverages, and a slew of other goodies.

Miss Indira rushed around, giving orders like I was the hired help. I didn’t think so. Last time I checked, I was a guest. But since this was my mom’s close friend, I put a clamp on my tongue. Plus I didn’t want to miss out on the eats. I couldn’t wait for this party to start.

“Where’s Regis?” I asked, after placing the last of the appetizers on the buffet.

“She’s upstairs getting ready,” her mom said while she hovered over a large tin pot of simmering meatballs. “You can go up there. People should be arriving any minute.”

Getting ready,
I thought as I ran up the stairs.
It’s her party, she
shoulda been, been ready.

I knocked on Regis’s door twice, then tried to open it, but it was locked.

“Let me in, Hooch,” I yelled.

“Screw you, Heifer,” she yelled back, and swung open the door. She winked at me and went and planted herself in front of her usual stomping ground, the mirror.

Regis Collier has distinctive features: she’s ten shades darker than me and has these wide eyes, thick lips, and one of those descendent-of-the-Motherland noses. For the past couple of months she’s been sporting these beautiful long braids that are always covered by a colorful headband—you know, the kind that hides the crown of your head and then lets the rest of your hair peek from underneath. With these headbands, Regis resembles a teenage Jamaican queen; she walks with her head up and stares people in the eye. And Regis is petite, but I don’t think she knows it.

“Damn, I look good,” she said, and applied a few coats of grape-toned lipstick to her pouty lips. She pressed her lips together and dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a tissue. I rolled my eyes and watched in her shadows.

“Don’t I?” she asked, looking at me in the mirror.

“Regis, don’t start. I’m not in the Regis Collier fan club, remember?”

“Girl, what you mean you not in the Regis Collier fan club? Shee-it, you the founding member.”

“Oh, pu-lease.” I sat on her bed and looked around. You’d have thought we were at a movie star’s house. Her queen-sized four-poster bed was arranged with at least eight pillows of all sizes, and matching pillowcases, a bed skirt, shams, and a comforter. Even with all her hardwood furniture, she still had room for a thirty-two-inch TV, DVD, stereo system, and an oak bookshelf (even though she doesn’t read books all that much).

“So, what you wearing, Lauren? I’ll bet you brought your jammies over in a duffel bag, didn’t you?” she chided.

“Yep.”

“I knew it. Too scared to wear your PJs over here. Nobody trying to look at you, chile.”

I didn’t say anything. Instead I stared at a wall and pretended to be captivated by a D’Angelo poster.

“Well, check out mine,” she said.

She went inside her walk-in closet and soon brought out a red and black satin baby-doll nightie with spaghetti straps.

“
That’s
what you’re wearing?” I asked.

“Yep,” she said, holding the outfit against her. “Something wrong?”

“No, it probably will look cute.”

“Damn straight it will. Too bad no guys will see me in it, though.”

“You mean to tell me this will be a strictly female slumber party, Regis?”

“Hey, I tried to convince Moms to let me invite guys, but she wasn’t having it,” she explained, and tossed the nightie on her bed.

“Hmmm! Wonder why,” I mumbled.

“Smartass,” she said, and started getting undressed right in front of me. She wiggled her hips and scraped off a pair of jeans. Short as she was, Regis still sported an ample chest. After she pulled off her shirt, her tits were released from their one-hundred-percent-cotton prison.

“Lauren, you think I should leave on my panties?”

Within seconds, I escaped to the other side of the room.

“Yes, Regis, I think that would be a good idea.”

“You do? Hmmm. That settles it,” she yelped. “Off they go.”

She slid off her underwear, standing naked. I turned my back.

“Oh, hell,” she hollered and came and planted herself in front of me.

“Lauren, what is your problem? We girls. All this is here, is some meat,” she said, rubbing both hands across her breasts and stomach. “Can’t hurt you.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Oh, I get it. You think I like girls, don’t you, Lauren? Humph! If you don’t know, you better ask somebody!”

“No need,” I replied, and shooed her away with my hands. “Please leave so I can get dressed. I heard the doorbell ring. Aren’t you going downstairs now?”

She looked at me like I sniffed permanent markers.

“Chile, when I do join the party, I plan to be the last one there, you hear me?” Regis announced.

She stood there gaping at me. I stretched my hand toward the door until Regis threw on her nightie and left the room.

It was going to be a long night.

AFTER EVERYONE HAD ARRIVED
and when all seven of us girls were in place, Miss Indira hung around trying to make sure we were having a good time. Her presence actually prevented us from having any fun because no one dared cut loose. But she looked startled when we started talking about our favorite Old Testament scriptures and quietly left the game room. By then it was a little past eleven o’clock. Now the fun was really about to start.

Besides Regis and myself, the other slumber party attendees were Charisse Youngblood, Regis’s seventeen-year-old neighbor from across the street, Lia Brockington, Justine Knight, and Zoe Brand, classmates of Regis; and Hope Barnett, a cousin on Miss Indira’s side.

Charisse’s doe eyes were covered with pink glasses; she was wearing a pink-and-white short set. Lia, who’s on the plump side, wore a sky-blue gown that allowed her toes to peek from underneath. Justine, tall and regal, had her hair tied in a gold silk head wrap that matched her gold cat suit. Zoe had on a polka-dot boxer-short set, and Hope, the shortest one of all, wore a violet sleep shirt with bunny rabbit house slippers. I wore some checkered pajama pants and a black halter.

Lia snapped her fingers and said, “Cool, Miss Indira f
iii
nally got the hint. Let’s get this joint
started.
”

Hope replied, “I know that’s right.”

“Ah,” Regis scowled and pursed her glistening lips, “y’all shut the hell up. You coulda talked in front of my moms.”

“That’s a lie,” Lia protested. “If your wild butt held back, where does that leave the rest of us?”

Regis shrugged, “Y’all just scrubs. Scared to talk. If you gonna be in my crib at my party, you better show your ass ’cause I’ll sho’ be showing mine.”

Justine replied, “You don’t mean that literally, do you, Rege?”

Regis smiled and shifted her eyebrows up and down in a silly manner. Then she lowered the straps of her baby-doll nightie, exposing her thick shoulder. Charisse’s face turned red. “No, Regis didn’t mean it. I
know
that girl doesn’t mean that.”

“Okay, okay,” Regis said, waving her hands, “I won’t get naked right now. But we playing strip poker later. Y’all game?”

Everybody murmured, “Sure, Regis. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Lia’s thick lips spread into a wicked grin, “Let’s do some girl talk. Okay, which of y’all is sexing?”

“Which of us ain’t?” That was Regis.

Mostly everybody laughed. I started fanning myself and felt relieved when Regis dimmed the lights. She motioned for everybody to sit in a circle.

Regis cleared her throat and said, “Okay, I’ll answer Lia. This easy.” She looked around the circle at each of us, pointing as she talked, “I know my neighbor Charisse not screwing.”

Charisse adjusted her glasses and lowered her head, but didn’t say anything.

Regis continued, “I know my cousin Hope screwing, with her whorish ass. She only thirteen, y’all. Ain’t that a shame?”

Regis acted like her announcement was a news flash, but there was nothing new about that flash. She’d already given Justy and me the scoop about her cousin. Regis said Hope had slept with so many boys, the only part of her body that hadn’t been felt on was her tonsils.

Fiery yet modest, Hope’s eyes enlarged and her mouth flew open. “Regis, don’t be telling all my business.” Hope reached across Zoe to smack Regis, but Regis raised her hand and grabbed her cousin real quick, then pretended like she was going to twist Hope’s arm.

“Chile, please,” Regis laughed, and rolled her eyes, letting Hope go. “I don’t even have to say nothing. You can look at Hope and tell she screwing. She got that gap between her legs. You know the kind of gap that look like a girl been riding on a horse.”

Lia yelled, “Hi-ho, Silver!”

Hope squirmed, yet managed to giggle. “Oh, y’all got jokes.”

Responding with an easygoing chuckle, Regis said, “Put it this way, my guess is that seventy percent of the girls in this room is getting some loving, okay?”

“Are you one of the seventy, Regis?” That was Lia, as if she had to ask.

Looking at this group of girls, I couldn’t believe how bold everybody was. I hoped they wouldn’t ask me any in-depth questions. If they did, I guess I could lie, say “no comment,” or crack some joke. Letting the crew know the four-one-one about my love life would be too humiliating.

“Is Regis one of the seventy?” Zoe huffed. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Lia. We’re talking about Regis Collier here.”

Regis burst out laughing, and shook her braids with wildness. And when all eyes settled on her, she said, “If anybody sexing, you
know
I am.”

I couldn’t believe she was giving herself big ups.

Regis waved her arms and rocked her butt, even though she was sitting on the floor. “How y’all think my ass got so big?”

I doubted this seriously, but blurted, “Stairmaster?”

Regis said, “Negative.
Dickmaster,
girlfriend.”

Both Zoe and Lia were like, “Ugh! Yuck!” I was thinking the same thing, but said nothing. Couldn’t believe how gross Regis could be. Didn’t know what she was trying to prove.

Regis continued, “No, for real, y’all. My man Sporty does my body
sooo
good.” She shuddered like that eyeglass-wearing male dancer in the
Beat It
video.

Lia waved her decaled fingernails. “Give us the details.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Regis smiled, lifting her eyes toward the ceiling. “Okay, I’ll tell you about one time when we did it.” She looked around the circle. “Oooh, it was
sooo
good. Happened last summer. My moms went on the church picnic, but I was sick that morning so I asked if I could stay home alone.”

I asked, “And she believed you?”

Regis rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I started feeling better around noon. So I paged my baby, Sporty, and asked if he could swing by. First he said no, he had thangs to do. But when I said nobody was home but me, he said he could be there in a couple of hours. He was an hour late and I was pissed, but once we started kissing, I got so worked up you couldn’t pay me to remember why I got pissed in the first place.”

I couldn’t see how Regis could admit all this. If and when I did start bumpin’, would I tell a bunch of broads my play-by-plays? Weren’t some things considered special enough to be private? If this was the way it was supposed to be, I had to get used to it.

Zoe leaned toward Regis. “What else happened?”

“Don’t rush me,” Regis snapped. “I’m getting there. Soooo, then we went to my bedroom and I closed all the drapes and blinds and stuff so it could seem dark. He took off his clothes, then I took off mine. We started kissing and stroking each other’s body. I looked at his thang and he asked me what I thought. And I asked him, I said, “ ‘This here pretty big, but, uh, could you super-size it?’ ”

Hope smirked. “Ooooooo-wee. I’m feeling you, cousin.”

“Then what?” Zoe wanted to know.

Regis’s voice lowered. “I started licking and sucking him till it grew even bigger and harder, just how I like it. And . . .”

Lia leaned in. “What? Tell us.”

“I put his nozzle in my gas tank and
he started pumping
.” She screamed with laughter.

“Regis Collier.” Justine scowled. “You are one sick puppy.”

Regis lifted her fingertips and panted, “Arf, arf.”

Lia sprawled out on the carpet, screaming and flailing her legs in the air. Hope high-fived Regis, and the rest of us just looked at her in amazement while she bunched her shoulders up and down in an impromptu dance.

Charisse stared at Regis like she’d just met her, or never knew her true nature until just then. “Regis, does your mom know that you’re having sex?”

Regis stopped cutting up and got serious. “Duh, Charisse, I don’t know what my momma know. Hell, she might, but she ain’t never said nothing to me. Maybe it ain’t none of her business.”

“As long as you’re living—”