Zora and Nicky: A Novel in Black and White (10 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

NICKY

Why did I move to Detroit? It takes Pete forty-five minutes to drive me home
and all he talks about is Zora, spending an inordinate amount of time on the
subject of her butt.

I want to kill him.

I don’t engage him. And that’s difficult. We do this. We talk about breasts
and booty and have done it since we were twelve. And never have I had a
more magnificent rear end to wax eloquent about. Only I can’t. It’s not right.
I feel dirty just listening to him, and that this feeling is new to me is what’s
making me most uncomfortable of all! Not that Pete noticed.

He makes gestures indicating size. He rolls his eyes back. I have to elbow
him in the ribs so he doesn’t wreck the truck.

“Okay, Pete. I get it. She’s amazing.”

“I’m not talking about
her
. Maybe she
is
amazing, but before I can get to
that, man, oh, man—”

“Pete, if you say one more thing about Zora’s butt …”

He looks at me, confused. “What’s the matter with you anyway, yo?
Usually you’d be leading the praise here.”

“Maybe I’m tired of disrespecting women.”

“Since when?”

“What do you mean
since
when
? I’ve been celibate for three years.”

“And we’ve had many conversations about a good butt in that time, yo.
It’s that weirdo lady you been going to Bible study with. She’s influencing
you, isn’t she? Her and her skirts to the ankles. No makeup. Does she even
comb her hair or use deodorant?”

“Yeah. She combs her hair and uses deodorant, Pete.”

“That your type now, Nick? Untouched for a reason, yo?”

“I don’t appreciate you talking about Zora
or
Linda. Okay? Say another
thing about either one of them and I’m gonna bust you up. Say ‘yo’ again and
I bust you up. I mean it, Pete.”

He shrugs. “Whatever. I don’t know why you’re so sensitive. Looks to me
like Zora is like any other
sistah
.”

I don’t like how he says
sistah
. It feels wrong. Like he hasn’t earned the
right to say that word. “What do you mean she’s like any other one?”

“She’s got the tight jeans showing off all that tail, because she wants the
world to see it. She loves it. And she loves me lovin’ it. Just look at the videos.
Black chicks are totally into showing their stuff.”

I want to hit Pete much harder than our usual horseplay allows. “What
kind of racist crap is that, man? What? White women don’t wear tight clothes?
Why are you singling out black women?”

“C’mon, Nicky. The videos on BET and the ones on MTV are totally
different. It’s the culture, man. They give it up more than white women. They
do. It wasn’t a white girl that made up the bootylicious song. And personally,
I like that. And I like that song. And I like Beyoncé. And I like Zora. You got
her phone number? Because if you’re not interest in hittin’ that, I am. I hear
sistahs are wild in bed.”

Hittin
’ that? He’s with a black person for an hour and he wants to throw
around the vernacular. “You’re a Christian, Pete.”

He laughs. “Oh, you can judge? What were you when you talked all those
sweet sisters in the Lord into your bed? What were
they
? You nailed, like,
half the youth choir when we were in high school, man. And the cherry on
the top, no pun intended, was your declaration, ‘Once saved, always saved.’
Didn’t tell Reverend Parker about that, did you? But I said then, and I say
now, ‘Amen, Nicky!’ ”

I don’t say another word to Pete, because everything I want to say is so
angry that I honestly believe we’ll come to blows and it’ll end our lifelong
friendship. I sit there, stewing in my own juices, until he finally pulls up in
front of my building, and I storm out of the truck, slamming the door behind
me.

But in all truth, Pete is holding up a full-length Nicky mirror, and I see
myself with such startling clarity that it shocks me. I hate the self I see in
Pete.

He yells something to me. I don’t listen. I just keep going, trying to run as
far away from myself as possible. By some mercy he doesn’t follow me.

ZORA

MacKenzie puts me in a headlock that I think she mistakes for a hug. Before
Nicky’s even walked away she’s whispering, “
Giiiiiiiiiiiiirl,
” in my ear. “Where
you get Halle Berry’s white boyfriend?”

I chuckle. He does sort of look like that Versace model Halle’s been seen
with. What’s his name, Gabriel Autrey, Aubrey? Who knows? He’s fine—and
so is Nicky “Save the Negro” Parker.

Okay. That was uncalled for, like most of my attitude these days. When
Nicky walks away, Mac lets me breathe again.

“He’s just some guy I know.”

“Girl, that white boy looks good enough to chew on.”

“He’s taken.”

She puts her hands on her hips as if he’s standing in front of her and she’s
getting her flirt on. “I’ll take him too.”

“You can have him.” We start walking up the flight of stairs to our second-
floor apartment.

“Why didn’t you ask him to come in? Don’t tell me he’s all walkin’ you to
your door and you’re not trying to holla.”

“I’m not trying to ‘holla.’ I have a boyfriend.” A boyfriend that’s afraid of
my father, who’s paying part of his salary
too
. But who’s counting paychecks?

“Girl, I heard white boys are freaky. I’ll bet he can teach me some
things.”

“I doubt that, Mac.”

“What you sayin?”

“I’m saying you know a lot already. Don’t you?”

“Look, don’t be salty with me just because you ain’t ready to go
international. Girl, it’s a’ight. I’ll go before you. I’ll make the way plain. I’ll
go to that mountaintop, though none go with me.”

She starts preaching like my granddaddy, and I smile despite myself.

“Where’s yo’ key?”

“At my parents’ house. Along with the Lexus.”

“You mean you ain’t even got Lexi? I thought you was just frontin’ ’cause
you didn’t want that white boy to know how paid you are.”

We reach the apartment, the door is open, and I’m welcomed in bohemian
BAP paradise. Truly. I live in high style, thanks to my parents’ money, B.
Smith, MacKenzie, and our collection of design books. I’ve achieved an
eclectic-influenced, though always African-inspired, visionary style for our
little apartment. I love all things black couture. Everything is class, culture,
and refinement with a whole lotta funk thrown in for good measure.

I kick off my shoes and sink into my buttercream-colored leather sofa
with mudcloth accents. MacKenzie and I designed the pillows with Ashanti
gold weights for charms.

“Oh, Mac. I had dinner with Daddy, Mama, and Miles, and it turned
into a nightmare.”

“It had to turn
real
bad if you came back here with a
white
boy.”

“Can you stop calling him that?”

“Well, he is white.”

“Yes, but you’re saying it like that’s some kind of personal defect.”

“Shoot, girl, it
is
a personal defect. That boy ain’t got enough melanin.”

I look at her, and she’s dead serious. “You know you’re out of your mind,
right, Mac?”

“I’m just saying. I’m not the one that came from the Caucus Mountains.
Some people got melanin. Some don’t. He don’t.”

“What is up with you, Malcolm X? Why you gotta be dissin’ him because
of his skin color? Would you like it if he was with his buddy talking about me
being a jungle bunny?”

“He probably is talking about you to his buddy. He’s probably telling his
buddy how bootylicious you are.”

I laugh.

“What?”

“Mac, his friend said I was bootylicious all in my face, like he knew me
like that.”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about. They talk about us, and we talk about them.
It’s like Earth, Wind & Fire, sings, baby, ‘That’s the way of the world.’”

“The world is a very bad place to be. What if he’s nice? He stood up for
me, you know.”

“Honey,
he
ain’t nice. Look at him. He ain’t gotta be nice. He’s got ‘bad
boy’ written all over him. In fact, I don’t want to know anything nice about
him. I want to know the bad stuff. The
nasty
stuff.”

“You’re just saying that, Mac. Why don’t you stop frontin’ like you’re so
cool with all that sex and deal with your brokenness?”

Mac snorts. “What
brokenness
? I like sex, Zora. I like men. You haven’t
had a taste yet. Come back to me when you do, and then we can talk. In fact,
come back to me when that white boy turns you out. I got a feelin’ he gon’ be
the one. ’Cause you know that’s what he’s sniffing around you for.”

“He’s not sniffin’ around me. I asked him to give me a ride home. I saw
him at Barnes and Noble. I walked over there after I walked out on Daddy.”

She fakes coughing. “Shut up! You did
not
walk out on
The
Bishop
.”
MacKenzie starts strutting around with her chest poked out with such a dead-
on imitation of my father I’d be mad if she wasn’t my best friend forever. She
uses his pet Scriptures in an exaggerated male voice.

“Turn your Bibles to Genesis 1:26–28. God gave Adam total dominion
over the earth. If you’re going to exercise your dominion of creation and over
your enemies you need to activate God’s Word in your mouth.
Activate
it.”