Fool and Her Honey (9781622860791) (14 page)

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Authors: Kimberly T. Matthews

BOOK: Fool and Her Honey (9781622860791)
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What had been a grin of high hopes quickly turned into a frown of disappointment. SeanMichael had told me that he couldn't afford to get me the ring I truly wanted, but I was expecting a little bit more than what sat in the crease of that box in front of me. To say I was disappointed was an understatement. The ring looked like it was made of Cracker Jack gold instead of white gold, and the stone was so small, it was comparable to a single stud from a baby's pair of earrings.
What the hell?
I stared at the ring for ten minutes with tears streaming down my face, trying to talk myself into sliding it on my finger.
“What's important, Candis? The ring or the man?” I said out loud. “Stop being so materialistic.” I inhaled deeply and pushed the ring past the knuckles of my third finger on my left hand. At least it was the right size. Still, I was embarrassed to show it to anybody. I already knew SeanMichael would be crushed if I expressed anything but complete elation. Knowing this, I practiced gushing in the mirror for twenty minutes before I called him.
“Did you get it?” he asked as soon as he answered.
“It's beautiful, baby. I love it.” I lied, hoping it was convincing.
“I'm sorry it's not exactly what you wanted.”
“SeanMichael, I want you, and as long as I have that, I have exactly what I want.” I cooed, and I did mean it. A nicer ring would have been great too, though.
“I love you, girl,” he said with a sigh of relief.
“I love you too, baby.”
“I gotta go. I'm at work, and we're pretty busy.”
“Okay. Call me later.”
“Hey, post a picture of your hand to Facebook, so I can let the world know that you're mine!” he said before ending the call.
Oh God.
 
 
That evening, with my mini ring on my finger, I headed for Celeste's apartment, our meeting place for the night. Not only was I excited about my engagement news, but I also was determined to get to the bottom of their matchmaking shenanigans.
“So which one of you two wenches tried to reset me up with Russell?”
Celeste and Dina knew this was coming and had ample time to build up their defenses. Dina obviously had none.
“It was Celeste's idea,” she blurted.
I eyed Celeste, waiting for an explanation.
“What?” She hunched her shoulders nonchalantly.
“Why did you do that? You know I ended things with Russell months ago, and even more so, you know I'm seeing SeanMichael.”
“
Seeing?
Is that what it's now called when you can only in-box, text, Skype, and make phone calls? From what I thought, you ain't seen him yet,” Celeste replied, poking a little fun.
“Don't try to be funny. You know what I mean.”
“No, I don't, because every guy I ever called myself seeing, I've actually been able to put my hands on him. I don't know what this mess is you call yourself doing,” Celeste said, fanning her hand at me and rolling her eyes.
“Well, I was going to wait to tell you this, but just so y'all won't waste your time scheming and carrying on, I might as well go ahead and tell you now. . . .”
Chapter 23
Celeste
“SeanMichael and I are getting married,” Candis announced to Dina and me before taking a swig of wine.
“SeanMichael who?” I blurted out, dropping my head and raising my eyebrows at the same time. “Please tell me you met another man named SeanMichael and you're not talking about that dude you met on Facebook.”
“Are you serious, Candis?” Dina added right after me.
Candis rolled her eyes at me and focused on Dina. “Yes, I'm serious. We're getting married.”
“And you've never met him?” I said, more as a statement, maintaining my dropped-face look.
“Not in person. We just got finished saying that.”
“And you're
still
going to marry him?” I shook my head. “That don't make no damn sense.”
“And I guess it made sense for you to marry Equanto,” she shot back.
“No, it didn't, but at the very least, I did meet him and date him first.”
“And that should have been all the reason not to marry him, from what you've shared with me.” Candis poked her lips out and rolled her eyes.
See? That was why I didn't like sharing stuff with Candis and Dina half the time. Eventually, it got thrown back in my face.
Call me the queen of desperate, bored, or lonely, but Equanto and I met on a phone chat line, of all places. It started off as something fun and simple: dial a number, talk to a guy to pass some time, or in my case, to feel like somebody was interested in me again after David knocked me up during a one-night stand and left me with a baby, an extra hundred pounds, a stomach that had so many stretch marks it looked like a map of Africa, and self-esteem that was in the toilet. I couldn't deny that my baby, Linwood, was the love of my life, but I didn't need just love. I needed lovin'.
Equanto and I started talking every night on the chat line's coded number. One of the first questions he asked was, “So what do you look like?” It reminded me of just how out of shape I was, and it was a question I would have much rather avoided.
“Like a woman,” was my answer. That meant I had curves and bulges that only a real man would appreciate.
He chuckled first. “Well, I hope you don't look like a damn man, but tell me something more than that.”
“So where do you work?” I threw in as a distraction.
“We can talk about all that later,” he said. “I bet you sexy as hell, though.”
I wanted to give him a description of a bombshell body: nice, round, perky tatas; a flat belly; a curvy, thick behind; a tiny waistline; and long, flowing hair, like the females the chat line used in their commercials. This description was something that I thought he would take interest in, but all I could honestly lay claim to was the long, flowing hair, complements of my daddy's genes.
“I don't like to be vain like that,” I said, dodging. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
“You ain't tryin'a answer, so you must be fat, then,” he said and guffawed.
I should have hung up the phone right then, but instead, the conversation continued and we not only exchanged our personal numbers but also agreed to meet at the end of the week, after texting each other head shots. The one I sent had most of my face hidden by my hair and showcased sexy bedroom eyes. The one he sent me was an average shot of him sitting on a couch with a half grin, half snarl on his face. He would do.
That Saturday night Dina agreed to keep my baby while I went out on my first date in three years, with high expectations of making a love connection. I tugged on a pair of denim-looking leggings and a stretchy green one-shouldered top that was long enough to cover my behind and was adorned with large yellow and turquoise butterflies on the front. My eye shadow and lip gloss matched the hues in my shirt, and I flatironed my hair so that it framed my face. Posing in the mirror, I gave myself two thumbs-up; I looked good and was ready.
We'd decided to meet at Myst, a nightclub out in Scottsdale, since it would provide a mixed crowd, drinks, and hopefully a good time even if he didn't work out, since Candis was coming with me for safety reasons. We'd been at the club for more than an hour, with me scanning every dude in my line of vision, wondering if he was Equanto. In the meantime, I danced with a couple of guys, but I was distracted, scared I was going to miss him. I couldn't dance like I really wanted to, because I didn't want to be sweaty and stank by the time Equanto got there. That is, if he wasn't standing me up.
Candis looked like she was having the time of her life, accepting drinks from all kinds of dudes, hoochie dancing—bending over, rubbing her booty all in guys' crotches—then blowing them off like nothing had ever happened when the song changed. I envied her freedom of expression, her confidence, and how guys just flocked to her. She had on a super minidress that flared out at the waist but fell just an inch below her cheeks.
At one point, she started doing some fast-paced dance that looked like a mix between Chicago stepping and the Hustle, which called for a few quick spins. Every time Candis did a spin, her dress flew up to her waist and showed off her perfectly round, incredibly toned ass, complete with a strip of thong up the middle. She knew it and didn't care. That girl danced like she owned the place, while guys stood all around with a hand cupped over their mouth, muffling their “Gah-dahm!” while their other hand molested their crotches.
“Whew!” she huffed with a smile when the song ended and the DJ played something much slower. She made her way back to where I sat, and dudes started coming out of the woodwork like roaches with more drinks, requests for dances, and slips of paper with phone numbers scribbled on them, which she discarded.
While she sat chatting with someone to whom she'd decided to give two minutes of her attention, Equanto called.
“Yo, where you at?” he said.
I told him where to find me and described my outfit, and a minute later I saw an acceptable-looking man come strolling to the table.
“W'sup?” he said with a head bob, rubbing his hand across his face, looking back and forth between me and Candis.
“Humph,” Candis grunted, rolling her eyes away in instant disapproval. “I'll be back.” At that she was back out on the dance floor.
“Hey,” I greeted with a slight smile, taking note of his features, which reminded me of Usher's.
He pulled up a chair beside me, leaned back, and scanned the club. “So what's up?”
“Nothing much. Been getting my dance on while I was waiting for you to get here.” I glanced at my watch to send the nonverbal message that I didn't appreciate him taking so long to show up.
“Yeah. Sorry 'bout that. I had got a li'l caught up with something,” he answered while he thumbed a text message into his phone. Silence hovered between us for about two minutes, with me sipping my drink and him preoccupied with his phone. When he was done, he spoke again. “So stand up. Lemme see what you look like.” He lustfully bit down on his bottom lip and glanced down at a huge chunk of my butt that spilled over the sides of my seat.
I pondered for a few seconds if I should attempt Candis's level of confidence by proudly strutting my stuff or if I should ask him if he was crazy for approaching me like that. I took an even lower road. “My feet hurt a little bit,” I lied. “I don't feel like standing up.”
“Oh, a'ight. Well, I'm 'bout to go dance, then.”
“Wow. Not even gonna offer to buy me a drink first,” I said to his back, loud enough for him to hear as he hadn't gotten too far away. He didn't even turn around. He headed to the bar first, leaned over to the bartender, and was served a bottle of beer. He took a swallow, then sat on the edge of a bar stool, bobbing his head, watching females, and licking his lips. Another minute passed before some big-booty chick approached him and led him to the floor. While the girl shook and gyrated, Equanto did slow, fluid movements, keeping time with the rhythm but not putting forth much effort.
“Where's your date?” Candis asked, plopping down beside me, out of breath.
“He's out there with some random chick. I'm ready to go. Come on.”
“So it's not a love connection, huh?”
“Nope.” Grabbing my keys and purse, I ducked out without letting him know I was leaving. He probably didn't give a damn, anyway.
Equanto didn't call me until three days later.
“What happened to you the other night?”
“You mean, you noticed that I'd left?”
“I came back to the table with a drink for you, and you were gone,” he commented.
“Really?” I said sarcastically. “So what'd you do with it? Give it to the same chick you gave your attention to when you were supposed to be with me?”
“See, it won't even like that. You said your feet were hurting, and after paying twenty dollars to get in, I did wanna dance at least one time.”
He had a good point; I did say that.
“Then I come back to talk to you, and you dipped on a brother. Didn't say you were leaving or nothing.”
“Right.”
“So maybe that wasn't a good place for us to meet, but look, I am tryin'a see you again.”
After a little convincing, I agreed to dinner, even though I had to pick him up, since his car was allegedly in the shop. Then I ended up paying for our meals because he'd “accidently” left his wallet at home. I was so desperate for male attention, and some was better than none—even if I had to pay almost every time we went out. It had been a mess of a relationship ever since but I had always tried to convince myself and others that it wasn't that bad.
It seemed like the whole world was against us from the start, primarily because Equanto couldn't seem to keep a job. It seemed like by the time he was on a job long enough to get a check with his name printed on it, he found something about the job that was so difficult to put up with that he just had to quit.
“It's too hot to be out there every day, cutting grass!”
“Ain't nobody gonna do all that for no minimum wage.”
“They want to start too early in the morning, and I'm not a morning person.”
“I'm tryin'a work in my destiny, and this ain't it.”
“Last time I went to church, the preacher said he seen albums with my name on it.”
“I'm wasting my life making another man rich.”
“My boss be trippin', and he ain't gonna be talking to me like that.” He tagged that on to every main reason as the secondary reason why he just couldn't work another day.
In the meantime, he had moved in with me, because his sister had put him out for no reason, or so he said. It was initially just supposed to be for a few nights—and on the couch—until he got himself together, but one night turned into the next, which turned into a week, then a month, and so on. During that time, he transitioned from the couch to my bedroom, and when I looked up, I had a live-in lover. It was shackin', as my momma called it, but I kept lying to myself, calling it “spending the night,” but even my three-year-old knew better than that.
“Is Equanto coming home?” Linwood asked me one evening, when Equanto hadn't come in after work. Linwood was used to playing video games with him every night after dinner, and it was now almost his bath and bedtime.
“This is not his home, baby,” I answered. “He's just spending the night here for a little while.”
“Oh. I thought he lived here with us.”
Hell, who was I fooling? He did live there with us, and I was pissed off that I hadn't heard from him all evening and had no idea where he was. I felt like he owed me an explanation out of respect.
It was after eleven when he stuck his key in the lock and twisted the knob. The first thing I saw was a bouquet of mixed flowers, which immediately broke my angry spell. Equanto had never brought me flowers before.
“I'm sorry I'm late. They was offering extra hours, and I had to get that overtime.”

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