Spoiled Secrets (15 page)

              “What-the-hell?”  I’m sitting in shock, mouth hanging open.  Chase chuckles, reaches over and shuts my gaping mouth.

              “Listen, this way it’s easier for me to take her to doctor’s visits, which also goes for anything that requires a parent’s signature, pertaining to my sister. I am able to do it all.  Per the law,
I am her parent.
  But, within these walls, and out in public our mother is our mother.  She
is
our parent.  Do you realize how courageous my mother was to make the decision to do this, to sign over her rights?  She did not make this decision as a way to bail out.  She made it as a failsafe option?”

              “What do you mean?”  I understand I am sounding like one of those damned annoying parrots, but I’m eager to hear this explanation.

              “My mother is terrified of slipping back into depression, of being hospitalized.  She made this decision out of love, Amber.  Love for both my sister and I.  To make sure that Francis will always be with the one person who has cared for her no matter what.  I love that little girl as if she were my own child.”  He squeezes my hand. “This is not public knowledge, Amber.  Just like you asked me to trust you earlier, I am entrusting this information to you.  Can I trust you not to repeat any of this?”

              “Yes” I gaze into his eyes, staring in wonderment. 

              “Now, enough of the heavy shit.  Are you moving in or am I training you to kick ass if the need arise?”  He pulls me into the comfort of his arms and holds me to his chest.  He kisses the top of my head while waiting for my answer.

              “I think moving out would be disastrous right now.  Let’s not poke the sleeping bear, okay?  I’ll agree to the training, would that make you happy?”

              He kisses my head again and starts leading me to the door of his home. “Yeah, that makes me happy.”  He stops just outside the door. 

              “I’m curious, what were you muttering about when I went loco in the car?”  He looks down at me.

              I flush in embarrassment.  “I was quoting scripture from the bible.”  He looks at me, like he’s trying to decipher me.

              “Do you do that a lot?”

              “Yes”

              “What’s your favorite scripture that you like to quote?”

              “Really Chase, this is so embarrassing!  Do you honestly want to hear it?”

              “Yes.”

              I look at him and take in his serious demeanor. I decide that this is who I am, why get embarrassed and shameful because I have a relationship with GOD.

              “I might not go to church often, but I am a true believer of GOD.  I would like to think that I have a really good relationship with him.  Some people get on their knees to pray, some go to a church to confess their sins and ask the priest to pass along their prayers.  Personally, I speak to him as if he is one of my friends.  So, some days when I’m angry I might vent, curse, and wail.  Other days, I’m apologizing for my behavior.  It’s a roller-coaster ride, our relationship.  Do you have a problem with that?”

              “Amber, why would I have a problem with your relationship with GOD?  That is nothing to be ashamed of.  So, stop procrastinating and quote your favorite passage.  I’m eager to hear.”

              I glance up at him and pray silently that he doesn’t read to far between the lines of this passage. 

              “ST LUKE 6:27-28 – But, I say unto you which hear, love your enemies, do good to them which hate you, bless them that curse you, and pray for them which despitefully use you.”  My eyes never leave his as I quote this.  I swear he sees me and all of my many demons.  But, I do not cower, I stand stoically for my assessment. 

              He grabs my hand and yanks me through the door.  “We start training Monday, right after school!  Because if that is your favorite passage from the bible I want you prepared for anything that might come your way.  Now let’s eat.”

Chapter 19

              I need this night out.  I’ve been walking on egg shells since my dad flipped out.  I have tried really hard to stay out of his way when he’s home and have done a damn good job of that because I haven’t seen him once.  I need to direct my thoughts away from the craziness and focus on the more important task at hand, I need to dress fly tonight.  Like, BAD BITCH FLY! I want to represent my man well.  I don’t want his friends heading back home asking themselves, “
What is he doing with her
?”

              Chase mentioned that four of his friends are visiting him from Houston.  I believe he said their names were Brent, Blake, Jazz and Cameron.  The girls and I have been badgering him non-stop to give us a tad bit of 411 on his buddies, but he hasn’t given us one hint.

              Surprise, surprise…Emily has made up her mind and called dibs on Jazz.  It’s totally crazy, she’s never met him before in her life.  I asked her, why Jazz?  Her response was, “Brent, Blake and Cameron sounds like average boring names.  Like, they were born and raised in one of Dr. Seuss’s vacation towns called, Dull-Ville.”

              She thinks Jazz sounds badass.  Her exact words to Chase were, “I call dibs on Jazz.  If he plays nice I’ll show him a little sass.  If he’s really hot, I might treat him to a little ass!  But, if he’s too stuck on himself, I will just pass.”

              Chase smiled and told Emily that she was definitely Jazz’s type.  The thing is, his smile and the chuckle that followed were of the devilish variety.  Maybe it’s that I know him so well, better than my girls, that I was able to pick up on his mischievous smile.  His smile has me anticipating this meeting between friends.

              Ring – Ring – Ring

             
I look down at my cellphone, Emily’s face shows on the screen.  I would love to say,
I wonder what she wants.
  Unfortunately, there is no wondering needed.  I know my girls like the back of my hand.  Plus, she’s been calling all day with the same crap. 
What do you think he’s like?  What should I wear?  Should I wear sassy, but classy heels or fuck me pumps?  Should I wear my hair up or down?  I’m thinking Jazz is sort of built like Chase, what do you think?

              I activate my Bluetooth.  “Hey girl, what’s up?”

              Emily laughs.  “How did you know it was me?  Scratch that question don’t answer it that was a dumb question.  The caller ID and my beautiful face appearing on your phone screen announced me, right?”

              “Hold on Emily, Keisha’s calling in.  Let me merge the calls.”

              “Hey Keisha, I’ve merged you in with Emily.”

              “Hey chickadees!  I figured you two were on the phone together.”  Keisha huffs.  “Emily, I hope you didn’t call Amber with your excessive worrying over this Jazz fella.  Who even calls dibs on someone you haven’t met?  For your sake, I hope he hasn’t been beaten with an ugly stick.”

              “You know what Keisha?  I whole heartedly believe in that saying, two birds of a feather, flock together!”

              “Well, I have heard of the Ugly Duckling. You better hope that’s not what you end up with.  Marinate on that, miss two birds of a feather, flock together.”

              “You idiot, the duckling turned out to be a beautiful swan.  I believe that would mean, I would end up with the crem de la crem!  So there, in yo face tramp!”  We all laugh.

              “Whatever, enough about the mysterious Jazz.  Hell, I’m tired of hearing about the dude.  I was actually calling to see what you all are wearing tonight.”  Keisha says.

              I look around my room in amazement at the mess I have made.  My bed has at least twenty outfits piled on top of each other.  The floor is covered in shoes and my dresser is strewn with jewelry.  I expel a loud groan at the daunting task of picking out the perfect outfit. 

              “Guys, I’m stumped!  I don’t know what to wear.”  I whine. 

              “Thank GOD I don’t have that problem.  Some might say, I’m conceited, but I call it confidence.  I’m proud to say that due to my overabundance of confidence, I can wear a paper bag and still be the baddest bitch in the room.”

              “Emily, shut up!  Geesh, everything isn’t about you!”

              “Yes….yes it is!”  This was stated with all seriousness, no hint that she was joking in any way.

              “Are you serious right now?”  Keisha states in a flabbergasted tone. 

              “Yes, I am.  Serious as a motherfucking heart attack.”

              “Whatever, you idiot!  I don’t know how we remain friends with you.”

              “Come on girls, I need help here not bickering.  I honestly don’t know what I’m wearing tonight.  I was thinking a bandage dress.  Then I thought about some low cut jeans and a midriff top to show off my stomach.”  I groan out loud in frustration, not for the first time tonight.

              “My advice would be to dress comfortably.  If I were you, I would wear the…”  Keisha is rudely interrupted before completing her sentence.

              “Shut it up, Keisha!  No one wants to hear your ghetto styling pointers.  I’m telling you for the last time, no one wants the advice of a DaBrat wannabe!  If you didn’t know by now, let me make it clear for you.  We’re classy bitches!  We’re not
hood rich
and sure the fuck not,
hood chicks
.  Did you get that?  You got it?  Did you marinate on it?  Digest it? Good!  Now, I want you to regurgitate that tad bit of information whenever your hood mentality thinks of making an appearance in our conversations.  And again…Get it….Got it….Good!  Next order of business, please.”

              I can’t help it…I really can’t, the laughter spills from my lips.  Emily has Keisha pegged.  Her advice would be for me to wear my jeans that would show off my ass crack and my midriff top.  Bless her soul, my girl dresses for comfort, in her hood chic gear.

              She’s got a banging body.  I would kill to see her all dolled up in a dress and heels.  Unlike Emily’s overabundance of confidence, that exudes conceitedness, Keisha’s confidence is much more subdued.  She knows who she is and is very comfortable in her own skin.  I don’t know why, but for some reason she
NEVER
shows off the goods.

              “Suck balls Emily!” Keisha yells in the phone.  This makes me laugh harder.

              “Great advice, I might just do that tonight!”  Keisha and I shriek in disgust.

              “Whatever!  Anyway, from one bad bitch to another, you have to dress to impress tonight.  His friends are coming into town!  For fuck sake, give the man something to brag about!” 

              I hate to admit it, Emily has a point.  I want to be the show stopper when I walk in the room.  My eyes land on the perfect dress.  Now, this says something!  It’s screaming from beneath its brethren on my bed begging to be picked. 

              “Hey, I think I’ve found my statement piece!”  I say excitedly on the phone. 

              “Yeah, what is it?”

              “I’m wearing my beaded open Ponte BeBe dress with my knee length black and gold gladiator heels.”

              “Are you talking about the black one with the gold beading?  I thought you were crazy to spend $160 on that dress!  I have to admit, this is the right time and place for it.  That dress is a fucking show stopper!”  Keisha says.

              Emily exhales loudly.  “Damn, that dress is fucking hot!  Hell, now I have to rethink what I’m wearing tonight.”  Emily quiets for a minute.  “SHIT!”  This was Emily’s frustrated outburst right before we heard her line disconnect.

              “Amber tell me again, why are we friends with her?”  Keisha laughs.

              “Because we love her and wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves without her in our lives.”

              After more laughter and discussing where we would be meeting up, we disconnect the call.