He's Just A Friend (18 page)

Read He's Just A Friend Online

Authors: Mary B. Morrison

BOOK: He's Just A Friend
3.44Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
CHAPTER 21
S
aVoy was especially excited because after several dates, this was the first night Tyronne invited her to his place. She packed three DVDs, her cell phone charger, Nintendo and Play Station controllers, clothes for church tomorrow, and the lavender silk nightgown and robe she'd bought earlier. SaVoy was nervous and excited about spending her first night, all night, with a man. Scribbling on a blank five-by-seven note paper she wrote, “Papa, I'm staying the night at Tyronne's. His address and phone number are . . .”
Instead of wearing a ponytail, SaVoy finger combed her curls. How could she not over- or underdress for a house date? After changing several times, SaVoy wore her blue jeans, a tan asymmetrical cut blouse, black boots, and a short tan leather blazer. Her M.A.C. gloss shone between the chocolate lip liner.
When the garage door lifted she saw Desmond walking up to her door. SaVoy frowned. She tooted her horn, shifted into park, and got out of her car.
“Hey, you look nice. Where're you going?” Desmond asked.
“I'm headed to Tyronne's. I'm so nervous.”
“Why?”
“Because I've never spent the night with a man before.”
Desmond's eyes widened. “Tyronne's cool. He ain't trippin' on the fact that you're still a virgin.” Desmond covered his mouth.
SaVoy slapped Desmond's shoulder. “No, he didn't!”
Desmond shrugged, then hugged SaVoy. “Look, I apologize. I shouldn't have said that. But you know Tyronne's good people.” He released his embrace. “Don't trip.” Desmond walked SaVoy to her car and said, “Leave now before you change your mind. I can come by tomorrow.”
“What did you want?” SaVoy asked, rolling down her window.
“You,” Desmond paused, then said, “to help me decide what colleges to apply to. I narrowed it down to ten.” Desmond held up the paper.
“Are you serious? Let me see,” SaVoy said, reaching for the paper. She unfolded it. “These are great. Think about Hastings and Harvard.”
“What?” Desmond asked, sticking out his chest. “I get another hug?”
SaVoy kissed Desmond on the cheek and said, “Come by tomorrow. After church.”
“For sure. I'm headed over to Carlita's to tell her the news. I know she's going to want to take me out to celebrate but a brother can't dress up until he gets an invite.” Desmond kissed SaVoy on the cheek, close to her mouth.
SaVoy hopped in her car, rolled up the window, and drove off. She glanced in her rearview mirror. Desmond stood in the driveway watching her car.
The sweet fragrance of apple cinnamon escaped when Tyronne opened the door. SaVoy inhaled and peeped inside. No lights were on. Just candles burning. “Hey, woman. Come on in so I can close the door.”
“You do have electricity don't you?” SaVoy said, counting the candles. “Did you realize you have thirteen candles lit?”
“Get out,” Tyronne said, placing his hand flat in front of SaVoy's face. “You're fired!”
Before she realized what she'd done, SaVoy's M.A.C. lip print was now in Tyronne's palm.
“Okay, you can stay, but let that be a warning.” He eased off her jacket. “Don't start, okay.”
“Start what?” SaVoy asked, sitting on the fluffy white rug. “You mean beating you at a game of Madden.”
Tyronne smiled and tossed SaVoy the controller. “I'll even give you the good one.”
SaVoy glanced at the muscles in Tyronne's calves and handed the controller back to him. “No, thanks. I brought my own.”
“Okay, I don't hear you talkin'. That's the best you've got. Touch down!” SaVoy slid her controller across the floor near the system. “That's game, baby! I win!”
“I see you have multiple personalities, woman. A brother gotta watch you,” Tyronne said, exiting the room.
SaVoy scanned the photos inside Tyronne's entertainment center. The photo of Tyronne with a little boy was odd.
“Yeah, he's mine,” Tyronne said, walking into the room.
“How come you haven't mentioned him? What's his name? How old is he?”
“What you think his name is, woman? TJ's eighteen months. That's my dawg. He's got a crazy ass mama, though.” Tyronne shook his head.
“Is that her?”
“Naw, that's his sister. Of course that's her.”
Did Tyronne like the same type of women? The woman resembled SaVoy. “What's her name?”
“Lisa.”
Was she jealous of Lisa? Of course, not. “Who's the people in this photo?”
“That's my mom, my heart, the only woman in my life who can do no wrong. That's my old man, the best dad in the world. That's my two sisters, my brother, and me. Now, before your water gets cold, you need to go take a bath.”
“Do you do everything by candlelight?”
“When it comes to making love, if it's not by candlelight, it ain't right. I'll be in the living room.”
“Practicing?”
“See, a brother was trying to do the right thing, but naw.” Tyronne grabbed a decorative towel from the rack and whacked SaVoy on the butt. “I'm not going to tell you again. Take your bath.”
SaVoy softly said, “Take one with me.”
Tyronne resisted at first but eventually gave in saying, “Call me after you are in the tub.”
SaVoy undressed alone by candlelight and eased into the water, then called out, “Tyronne.”
When Tyronne entered, the silhouette of his hairy chest danced with the flickers of light. “Close your eyes, girl. I don't want to scare you. The shadow image is a beast.”
Cupping her hands over her eyes, SaVoy was tempted to peep but didn't.
“If a brother didn't have dick control, you'd be in trouble.”
“Maybe I want to be in trouble,” SaVoy said, resting her back on Tyronne's chest.
Tyronne massaged her breasts. The sensation was ten times better than when she'd done it herself. He talked about his childhood. How his dad was always working, seldom home because he refused to have his wife work unless she wanted to. His mother's job was to take care of them and Tyronne sang his parents' praises.
Tyronne talked about how he tried creating the same type of family environment for his son, but Lisa was too insecure. One day Tyronne wanted his own business. He hadn't quite figured out what type of business but he was confident his dream would come true.
SaVoy's hair unraveled from the ball she'd tied before getting in the tub. “Maybe you can own your own bottling company.”
“No way. I hate jumping in and out of that damn truck all day long. I'm thinking maybe a meeting place for teens to hang out and have fun. Kids have more discretionary income than adults. Think about it. A working parent will give a nonworking kid an allowance. And when the child spends the allowance early, the parent gives the child more money. I just need to find an ideal location. I want it to be in Oakland but it doesn't have to be because the kids will find a way to get to wherever I open my place.”
“Maybe when my dad buys the building you can convince him to lease you the other half.”
“No shit? Actually, that's a great location.” Tyronne became silent and gently teased her nipples.
SaVoy eased her hand over her clit and started massaging herself. Tyronne's dick slithered up her back like a snake.
“Let's get out of the tub before you turn into a raisin and I turn into a prune,” Tyronne said, standing up.
“Turn on the light,” SaVoy said.
“Nope.” Tyronne wrapped the towel around his waist and walked out.
His bedroom was as immaculate as the living room, bathroom, and kitchen. SaVoy plopped down in the center of the bed and stretched out.
“Nope. You have ten seconds to get in the living room or else, young lady.” Tyronne started counting backward.
SaVoy eased out of the bed and unraveled her gown. “Fine.”
They played Scrabble. Tyronne beat her twice and she wasn't sure if he'd let her win the last game. “I want you,” SaVoy said, looking deep into Tyronne's eyes.
“Nope. Chill out. Relax,” Tyronne said.
“Well, at least let me see you.”
“He ain't goin' nowhere. You'll see him in time.” Tyronne threw several comforters and pillows on the living room floor. “You should've peeped when you had a chance. Let's go to bed. And if I catch you peeping”—Tyronne placed his hand in front of her face and said, “you're fired.”
CHAPTER 22
D
esmond watched Carlita gather her keys, purse, and
Black Issues Book Review
magazine. Carlita was an avid reader of African-American authors and religiously took two or three novels whenever she left the house. She bought most of her books from Alkebulan Books in Berkeley and Marcus Book Stores in Oakland.
“Whatcha readin' now, woman?” Desmond asked in a Jamaican accent.
Carlita stood erect and said, “Iz za show you when me gets back home from the salon ya know. Gets plenty of rest. Ya gonna need it, mon.” Carlita lifted her leg, placed her knee next to her ear, and pointed her toes in the air.
Damn! Desmond pretended he'd passed out on the couch. Carlita was double-jointed and could twist her body in weird positions. The pose she'd struck was impossible for most but easy for Carlita.
“Do the damn thing, woman.”
“Five dolla. You pay. Five dolla.” Carlita wiggled her fingers in front of his face. Desmond dug in his pocket and pulled out forty dollars. “Thanks. Bye, baby. I should be back in about three hours.” If he had any intentions on messing up Carlita's hair, he had to foot the bill in advance. Carlita secured the top lock from the outside.
Desmond glanced at his ringing cell phone on the coffee table.
“Holla,” Desmond said.
“Hey, Desmond. This is SaVoy.”
“Duh, I know that. What's up?”
“I was wondering if you've heard from Tyronne. I haven't been able to get in touch with him since . . . well, since I spent the night at his place.”
“He's fine. Just chillin'. You must've scared him or something.”
“Oh, please. Me scare him. I don't think so. Well, when you talk with him, ask him to call me, okay?”
“Sure. Hey, SaVoy. I need some more help with my pretest. Is it okay if I come over tomorrow? Say around six.”
“Okay, but don't forget—”
“Yeah, I know, to tell Tyronne to call you. I won't. I got another call. See ya tomorrow.”
“Hello,” Desmond answered. “Where've you been, girl?”
“Dez, I need to talk. Can you come over?”
Since Carlita wasn't due back for a couple of hours, Desmond said, “Sure, I'll be right there.”
While driving, Desmond scrolled his cell phone book for Tyronne's number.
“Man, what's up? Why you not returning SaVoy's calls? She had to call me looking for you.”
“Dawg, I don't know what to do with that feline. That girl is sweeter than honey.”
Tapping on his brakes, Desmond asked, “So she let
you
hit it?”
“Why it gotta be like dat? Don't hate.”
Desmond was jealous but didn't really know why. Maybe because Tyronne had busted several cherries and every feline Desmond had met was nowhere close to being a virgin.
“Man, that girl made love to me without givin' it up. Let's just say she's a fast learner. But she's too nice for me, dawg. That's why I haven't called her back. But I will. I don't want her giving me the evil eye when I show up at her dad's store on Wednesday. Where you at?”
“Fancy called—”
“Aw, here we go again. I told you, man. You shoulda left that ho alone a long time ago. Look, I gotta run. Peace. I'm out.” Tyronne was gone.
Maybe that's why Desmond was jealous. Tyronne, as doggish as he was, could still pull nice girls like SaVoy. Desmond watched five minutes and one second flash on his display. “Damn,” he said, trying to hang up before the next second of the next minute registered because his cellular company would charge him a full sixty seconds regardless. Desmond pressed star, two, talk, and requested credit for a dropped call. Every month he dialed in for his twenty minutes of credit, which added a ten-dollar savings to his bank account.
Desmond enjoyed having sex with Fancy but the thought of being with SaVoy turned him on even more. What would it be like to get with a virgin? Certainly he couldn't fuck her the same way he was hitting it from behind with Fancy. And truly not the way Carlita had taught him to make love.
Fancy answered the door wearing gray sweats and a white man's tank undershirt. “Hi, thanks for coming over,” Fancy said, kissing Desmond on the lips.
“What's up? I know you need something.” Desmond sat on the love seat, picked up the remote, and turned on the TV.
Fancy took the remote and turned off the television. “I need for you to listen to me, Dez. I'm pregnant.”
“Whoa, why you telling me this?” Desmond sat on the edge of the chair.
“Because you're the only friend I have. Who else am I supposed to talk to?”
Desmond had never seen Fancy so desperate and it wasn't becoming. Fancy was always so strong and in control. He moved next to her on the sofa. Fancy laid her head on his shoulder.
“I want to have an abortion. And I want you to go with me. They said I shouldn't drive myself home afterward. My appointment is Tuesday at ten o'clock.”
“I have to work Tuesday,” Desmond said. Not because he didn't want to go. He wasn't sure if he supported her decision. She never said it wasn't his kid. He doubted that it was. And if it was, he was certain Fancy would not have his child. Fancy cried louder and harder.
“Please, Dez. I'll pay you to take off Tuesday. Just go with me. I can't have this baby.”
“Whose baby is it?” Desmond asked, handing Fancy a tissue.
“Honestly?” Fancy sniffled. “I don't know.”
“Then whose baby could it be?” Desmond asked. “You know. What I mean is . . .” Desmond sighed heavily.
“If you want to know could it be yours, maybe. But I don't know for sure.”
“Who else?”
“Byron.” Fancy paused, then said, “Adam.” She paused again and said, “Or maybe it's Harry's.”
“What! Damn! How many men you fucking?” Desmond stood and walked around the coffee table. “Byron, Adam, Harry, and me?”
“And let me guess. Neither Byron nor Adam will go with you. Damn, Tyronne was right. You are a ho. Why would you open your legs for so many men?”
Fancy started crying harder. “I knew I shouldn't have told you the truth. Get out!” Fancy pointed toward the door. “Get out now! I'll drive myself to the abortion clinic. And I guess you fucking Carlita and me and whoever else makes you perfect! Get out!”
Desmond opened the door, then closed it. He stood looking at Fancy and remembered how his mother told him, “Baby, it's easy to be a friend when things are going well. But if you're not there for a friend in the time of need, then you're not a true friend.”
“I'll take you Tuesday. But I won't let you pay me,” Desmond said, hugging Fancy. “I'll call and check on you later.”
On his drive back to Carlita's, Desmond thought how difficult it must be to live inside a woman's body. He could easily have had sex with as many women as Fancy had with those men but he could never give birth to baby. Fancy was his friend. And she was pregnant with a baby that could be from any of the four guys she'd mentioned. Suddenly Desmond realized he had a vested interest in making sure Fancy aborted the baby. He didn't want a child under those circumstances and he definitely didn't want to pay child support for the next eighteen plus years if the baby was his. Carlita was still receiving payments for her eldest son because he was living at home while going to Cal Berkeley. The father was so happy his son turned eighteen, but was disappointed when the judge said he had to pay child support until his son's twenty-second birthday.
Desmond unlocked Carlita's door using his key. He had also given her a key to his place but found himself spending more and more time at Carlita's. “Hey, your hair stylist hooked you up.”
“Yes, she did. Come here for a minute.” Carlita went into the kitchen and returned with two tall glasses of cranberry juice. “I've been thinking.”
Desmond stood immediately because whenever Carlita said those words he was already at a disadvantage.
“Sit. We do need to talk. I'm happy with our relationship. I love you. You know I want you to move in. But I think it's time for us to get married.”
Desmond scratched his neck although it didn't itch. “You think so. Why? I like things the way they are.”
“You know I don't question you. Never have. Don't plan on starting now. But. You need to make up your mind. Either we're going to be together and you are going to stop running to rescue your immature friend Fancy every time she plays the damsel in distress, or we're not going to be together. It's as simple as that.” Carlita never raised her voice.
“Can a brotha at least take some time to think about it?”
“Sure, take all the time you need.” Carlita opened her hand and said, “Give me back my keys.”
That's why Desmond didn't want to take the damn keys in the first place. He knew at some point she'd take them back. And he really didn't understand why Carlita had an attitude. She always seemed so easygoing. Desmond tossed the keys on the table next to his glass and walked out.

Other books

Latin Heat by Wyant, Denise L.
The Publisher by Alan Brinkley
What Dread Hand? by Christianna Brand
Losing Him by Jennifer Foor
A Different Light by Mariah Stewart
The Cross Timbers by Edward Everett Dale