Ain't Gonna Be the Same Fool Twice (28 page)

“My Grandma's lap used to be my favorite place in the world,” I cut in.

“I wasn't no sissy, though. You know how black boys always have braids when they're little.”

“Yeah,” I assured him. “My mother braided my brothers' hair too.”

“Would you believe, I still have my little braids. You know, how some folks have a bronze shoe? Well, I have my braids in an old cigar box.”

“You kept them all these years?”

Buster nodded.

“Wow.”

“When we were growing up, Moms was never too busy to scratch and oil our scalps. She'd say, ‘Want me to look at your scalp?' Remember the days of Dixie Peach?” Buster smiled.

I nodded. “I can take you back to Mange.”

“Dog Mange! You done really shown your drawers now. I'd forgot about Mange. I can still picture that brown bottle with that smelly-ass shit. Moms would rub it in my sisters' heads. She was determined to grow them some hair. Used to smell up the whole damn house. But Moms said that was a small price to pay for them to have French rolls.”

“You know I got a sample of styling lotion from Vidal Sassoon. It's in my backpack. I wonder if it works on our hair? They did a good job cutting mine.”

“Yeah, they did.”

“Buster, you want me to look at your scalp?”

“Really, here?”

“I can braid your 'fro.”

“You sure you won't feel like a service provider?”

“I offered, didn't I? Besides, you provided the food. And haven't you heard, ‘There's no such thing as a free lunch'?”

“Braiding would condition my 'fro.”

“You don't mind me doing it out here in public?”

“I don't care what these white folks think. There's no shame left in my game. I done already boohooed.”

I ran my fingers through Buster's natural. “My mother would say, ‘You have a nice grade of nappy hair.'”

“In other words, you ain't got to comb a bunch of beads.”

“Sit your butt down and lean back.”

“Stevie, I can't believe it. I'm finally getting between your legs!”

“Shut up before I pop you with this comb.”

“Remember, a man's head is very sensitive.”

I parted, scratched, oiled, combed, and braided while Buster's shoulders warmed my thighs.

When I finished braiding Buster's hair, he suggested that we go back to his room and smoke a joint. I hesitated because I knew where weed could lead. And I wasn't sure I wanted to go there.

“Stevie, you're the only girl I've ever felt really comfortable with, that I could really talk to. I wanna get next to you before I go.”

I felt my heart race. I was drawn to something in Buster.

I gulped, “I guess we could see what happens.”

“We can make it happen.”

Buster and I kissed while sitting on the creaking bed in his nondescript room. His bags were packed and ready to go. We were both high on reefer. Barry White's deep, sexy voice rang out from the clock radio.

Buster stroked my face. “Baby, I wanna take you down.”

“I've never really enjoyed sex with a man before,” I confessed. “I mean, the last few times, it was okay.”

“With me it'll be different,” Buster whispered. “All I care about is pleasing you.”

“I like a slow hand,” I confided, tugging on one of Buster's braids.

“You got it.” Buster winked. He stroked my breasts through my T-shirt. I felt my nipples harden. “You're really turning me on,” I said.

He reached under my shirt. I unfastened my bra. Buster cupped my breasts in his hands.

I pulled off my T-shirt. Buster sucked my breasts. His tongue felt good on my nipples.

Buster looked up. “Whatever you want, you just tell me, you dig? I mean, I won't get my feelings hurt behind you telling me a little to the left or down instead of up.”

“Well, some men are on an ego trip and I don't wanna come off like a traffic cop.”

“Hey, I'd rather take directions than for you to be lying there frustrated, baby. This ain't no one-man show. We're in this together, you dig?”

“You're being so sweet.”

“Baby, your sweetness is my weakness.”

I stroked Buster's cheek. ‘The first time I had sex, I was young and scared and just not ready physically or emotionally. I certainly wasn't relaxed. And looking back, I'm sure I was afraid of opening myself up to a man. Not to mention that it hurt.”

Buster kissed me and wrapped his arms around me. “There's no reason a man can't be gentle. A lot of young dudes don't realize that. But the last thing I wanna do is hurt you in any way.”

I remembered about birth control. That had been a big plus about dealing with Traci. I didn't have to worry about getting pregnant.

“You know, I'm not on the pill or anything.”

“Don't worry, I got a rubber. I gotta fresh pack of 'em.”

I smiled. “We'll probably only need one.”

Buster laughed and hugged me. We rolled around on the bed and my body writhed with anticipation. The weed was really kicking in, and I was hot. Booties began flying every which way and we started coming out of our clothes.

I ran my fingers up and down Buster's chest. “You don't mind me asserting myself do you?”

“Hey, I'm in seventh heaven. Why should I have to do all the work?”

I slid my wet tongue up and down Buster's ear.

“Baby, you blowing my mind.”

I tugged the little nappy hairs on Buster's chest. Then I rubbed my breasts against his body. It felt warm and exciting being up against him.

Buster rewarded me with a long kiss. I sighed as he rubbed his hard penis up and down my naked thighs. His juice moistened my skin.

“You know, my first boyfriend was too big. And so was Myron, for that matter. In retrospect, we should've used K-Y jelly. Maybe we should use something now. It's been a long time.”

“You think we'll need it?” Buster asked.

I looked down at his erect penis.

“Maybe not, thank goodness you're not real big.”

“Oh.”

“I meant it as a compliment.”

“Oh. I'm not too small though, am I?”

“No, of course not, you're not too small, you're perfect,” I assured him.

Buster managed a smile.

I hugged him. “There's no one else I want inside of me,” I whispered.

We kissed and touched and teased each other. Buster played with my clitoris, and I put the rubber on his penis. My vagina contracted. I was ready to let Buster in. His slow, gentle thrusts felt good inside me. He rubbed my clitoris and I called out his name.

I spied Sterling bouncing a basketball out on the pavement as I walked toward the house. I was still basking in the afterglow of my orgasm.

Buster had asked me to ride with him and Sterling to the airport the following night. Of course I wanted to see him off, but I didn't want to cut into Buster's time with his brother. Buster had insisted that he wanted me there, and that Sterling wouldn't mind. I had told him I'd run it by Sterling.

“Let me see the ball?”

Sterling held the ball away from me. “Ain't no
C
on it,” he teased. “You want it, you gotta take it. He started bouncing the ball and doing some fancy footwork. Sterling was impressive for a minute. But Sterling didn't know what he was up against. I got the ball away from him.

I dribbled the ball expertly. Sterling finally got it back.

“Hey, where did you learn that?” he asked, wiping his brow.

“‘Negro,' my brother plays for Iowa State. And I'm the one who taught him how to make his first basket. I had a basketball jones way back in grade school. If I were a man I'd probably be in the NBA by now,” I bragged.

“Well, excuse the hell outta me.”

“I gotta ask you about something,” I said, following Sterling into the crib.

“What about?” Sterling asked, opening the refrigerator.

“Buster.”

“What about Buster?”

“I wanna tag along with you when you drive him to the, airport tomorrow night. Is that cool with you?”

Sterling popped open a can of beer. “Yeah,” he nodded, “but why?”

“Buster wants me to. And I want to.”

“Stevie, Buster doesn't even know you.”

“Yes, he does.” I didn't divulge that Buster knew me in the biblical way. “Buster and I went out to dinner the other night. And we went on a hike today. So, he does know me.”

Sterling looked surprised. “You had dinner with Buster and went on a hike together? When did all this happen?”

“Friday night and today.”

Sterling thoughtfully sipped his beer. “And you still wanna be in his company? Are you studying to be a psychologist or something?”

“Buster has his good points. Anyway, I told him I didn't want to cut into your time together, but he said you wouldn't mind.”

Sterling shrugged his shoulders. “Well, you're welcome to come along. Believe me, you won't be interrupting a Kodak moment or anything. We'll probably shake hands and that's it.”

“You know, Buster thinks you blame him for your mother's death. And he's hurting behind it.”

Sterling's face got tense, but he was silent.

Suddenly, I felt scared. “I'm sorry if I was out of line. I mean, I know I'm living under your roof and all. If you want me to hold stuff back, then I will. But we can't really be close if I can't be real with you.”

Sterling sighed. “No, I want you to be real. And you were mighty real. But Buster still had no right dragging you into this. I don't appreciate him airing our dirty laundry. It's our family's business.”

“Maybe so, but my grandmother used to say, ‘Dirty laundry washed in the dark seldom comes clean.'”

“Look, I know that my mother's death wasn't exactly Buster's fault. But he was a fuckup, and she catered to him. So it was hard not to blame him at first. Maybe I should just blame the weather.”

“Yeah. So you're not still mad at him?”

“I guess I've resented Buster for a long time. It wasn't enough that I got good grades, played clarinet in the school band, and got a scholarship to U.C. Berkeley.”

“What reason was there to resent Buster?”

“My father always threw him up in my face. He was the athlete, had the girls.”

“I can see how that would be hard. Especially with him being younger. And not to mention that you were tripping on being gay.”

“Tell me about it. Anyway, Buster ends up getting a football scholarship to San Jose State and flunking out after two years. At least I got my degree.”

“You and Buster are individuals. And you're both adults. It's time to quit comparing.”

“You don't know what it's like to have my father's foot on your neck all your life.”

“Sterling, you're special, no matter what your father thinks.”

“I heard that.” Sterling smiled.

The rain was coming down hard and the windshield wipers were busy. Sterling said it was the beginning of the rainy season. “It doesn't play out here,” he warned. “You'll damn near need an ark before it's over.”

I sat quietly in the backseat of the car while Buster and Sterling talked about how cold it was going to be in Alaska and how much long green you could make. And then Sterling pumped up the volume, and we all started rocking to Evelyn “Champagne” King singing “Shame.” I popped my fingers, 'cause “Shame” was one of my favorite jams.

Sterling pulled up to the curb of the San Francisco International Airport. “You're not parking?” I asked. It had never crossed my mind that we were going to say good-bye to Buster on the sidewalk. I'd envisioned at least a kiss at the gate.

“There's no need to park. It's too much of a hassle.” Sterling was already out of the car, running for the trunk in the pouring rain. Buster turned and squeezed my hand. It felt warm even though his hand was cold.

“I'll get out,” I said.

“Here you go, man.” Sterling passed Buster the duffel bag.

“Can you handle everything?”

Buster nodded. “Thanks, man.” They gave each other the black handshake.

Sterling cleared his throat. “I bought you a little going-away present, man. I wasn't sure who you were rooting for these days. Well, here.” Sterling pulled a Chicago Bears cap out of his right coat pocket and a Forty Niners cap from the left one. “Either one of them will cover up those braids.”

For a minute Buster appeared speechless. “Thanks, man,” he swallowed. “I really appreciate it.”

I watched Buster hug Sterling, and it did my heart good.

“All right now. Take it easy.” Sterling rushed back toward the car.

“Don't tell Sterling I'm a Raiders fan,” Buster winked.

“Your secret's safe with me.”

“Thanks for everything. You're the most sincere girl I ever met. But I still think you're too much woman to waste on another woman.”

I frowned at his backhanded compliment. “Forget you.”

Buster stared into my eyes. “Stevie, I'll never forget
you
.”

Suddenly, everything seemed out of focus. My chest felt open and my knees weakened. I leaned forward and kissed Buster's full lips. He kissed me back and my legs felt wobbly.

“I just wanted to give you another reason to remember me,” I said hoarsely.

“Let me get outta here, before I change my mind about leaving.”

I watched Buster drag his bags through the glass doors. He was gone, and I was left wondering what it all meant. A car horn interrupted my thoughts. “Don't you have sense enough to come in outta the rain!” Sterling shouted, his head hanging out the window.

I slid into the front seat.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Buster and I hooked up. I tried to tell you.”

“You mean y'all got it on?” Sterling raised his eyebrows.