My Sister's Ex (9 page)

He grins at me almost like he’s reading between the lines and is flattered.

“Let’s chill out here for a sec. Give peeps time to cool down, ’kay?”

I nod and close my eyes for a few minutes and try to relax.

“Hey you. You look gorgeous when you’re asleep,” he whispers.

My eyes pop open. I can’t help but blush. Jeff makes me feel like a little girl sometimes. Like he notices me and I am special.

“I’m not asleep,” I murmur.

“Hey then if you’re awake, I want to show you something.” He gives me a mischievous look and picks up a small key ring with a Ford emblem. He inserts a key into the glove compartment. Seconds later he retrieves a fat roll of cash about the size of some balled-up socks. A crisp hundred-dollar bill is on top.

“Remember when I told you I don’t trust banks?”

“Yeah.”

“I felt like I had to take control of my destiny. Kind of like what you ought to do in your own family situation.”

“Explain.”

“You feel like folks pick on you.”

“They go overboard whenever issues pop up.”

“And you don’t like that, right?”

“Not at all.”

“Because?”

“Because if my family were to just calm down, or mind their own business, we wouldn’t get into these altercations as much.”

“Right, but when you do get into the drama, it makes you feel like you’re losing.”

I smile brightly at him. “Precisely. And I don’t like to lose.”

“Because you’re a winner. You like to be in control of your destiny.”

“Yeah, of course, but what does this have to do with your bankroll?”

“My mistrust of banks has forced me to make certain decisions to ensure my own security, financial security.”

I just stare at him, then at his bankroll, then at him again.

“Oh, you’re one of those, huh? You’d rather take a risk of stashing cash in the car than depositing it in the bank.”

“Yep, I know where my money is at all times. No one makes mistakes and gives my money to anyone else, and I don’t have to worry about all those ridiculous fees.”

“Okay,” I say and shrug. “But that doesn’t really have anything to do with me.”

“Listen, Marlene. You should take control of your own life and stop letting the family bully you and cause you to feel bad because you make decisions they don’t like.”

“Yeah, I’d love to do that, but I’m kind of outnumbered. There’s power in numbers, ya know what I’m saying?”

“But there’s also power in high self-esteem. Know who you are, what you want, stand your ground no matter what. You don’t have to physically fight back, just be strong about who you are, what you believe in. They’ll have no choice but to leave you alone.”

“That sounds good, but do you really think it would work out for me?”

“You won’t know unless you try. I think I know what you want.” He smiles as if suggesting that he knows I want
him
. “But,” he continues, “you gotta change the way you go about stating what you want. That’s what you have to work on.

“Yep,” he says, thumbing through his cash. “I had to empower myself when it comes to money, and you gotta empower yourself when it comes to relationships.” It sounds like Jeff’s shuffling two decks of cards; that’s how much cash he has.

“Um, that sure looks like a lot of …”

“I have almost twenty grand … but I don’t have quite that much in my work ride. This here is just one of my stashes.”

“Hmm, isn’t it dangerous to leave your money in your cars?”

“I dare anybody to try to put their hand on my dough. I don’t play that. Anyone who knows Jeffrey Williams knows: don’t mess with my money my car, or my woman.”

I feel warm inside and start fanning myself.

“You hot?”

I laugh.

“You look beautiful when you laugh, Marlene. You should laugh all the time.”

I want to do whatever I can to get him to stay as sweet and supportive as he is.

“Look Jeff,” I say, blushing, “I’m going to try to do that, I promise. Thank you for bringing me out here, away from the drama. I don’t know how I find myself in the midst of craziness sometimes. I’m not looking for trouble, but trouble always finds me.”

“Okay, there you go being unreasonable again.”

“Why you say that?”

“You are too smart a woman not to know that me and you—us, together, that combination—equals drama. High-octane drama. Right?”

“Um, well, yeah, but—.”

“I already know you and Rachel aren’t always on the same page when it comes to things like who pays what bills, which one should help Blinky when he’s in a pinch. Y’all clash a lot—.”

“Yet we live together. I know. Makes no sense. But my crazy daddy insists that we get along. That we try to make our relationship work no matter what. That’s his dream. I think he feels guilty.”

It’s not often that I talk about what my father did, how his actions have caused a strain in the family. As the story goes, Blinky has always been a ladies’ man, the ultimate mack daddy. Women would do all kinds of things to capture
Blinky’s attention. So my mama, Loretta, and Rachel’s mama, Brooke, were just two of his main squeezes back then. I guess they were considered his coveted first string. When times were good, my mama and Brooke would each get a portion of his cash, some great sex and lots of attention, and he’d take ’em out to a movie, dancing, bowling, or the skating rink.

In addition to my mama and Brooke, Blinky dealt with his benchwarming wannabes. Women who wished they could command his attention but weren’t important enough to earn a permanent spot. The most he’d do is “one night ’em” and call it a day.

Aunt Perry enjoys disclosing family history and all the scandals. And the way Aunt Perry tells it, long before Blinky came into the picture Brooke and Loretta were PICs (partners-in-crime). They’d schedule hair appointments together, buy groceries and share the same shopping cart. They’d trade cute purses and even cuter shoes, and go hang out at the club every Thursday night. One time, my mama had to skip their ladies’ night out because she had to study for an exam at the local college, but Brooke got her caught up on the happenings at the club real quick. Brooke told this story to Aunt Perry. Then Aunt Perry, known for proudly revealing family scandals, relayed the gossip to me. I’ve heard what happened so many times, it’s like the voices are in my head.

Hey, Loretta
.

Hey, girl, what you know good?

I met somebody
.

Oh, yeah. He cute?

Oh, girl, he’s better than Billy Dee Williams and Sidney Poitier put together
.

Mmm, so when am I gonna meet your new cutie pie?

You don’t even have to worry about that. You’ll meet him real soon
.

Once Brooke started seeing Blinky, my mama said that Brooke lost her “woman power.” Loretta claimed Brooke began doing things a real woman wouldn’t do.

Hey, Loretta
.

Yeah, girl, what’s up?

Do me a favor. I got to work late today. Can my best friend pick up my main man from the Greyhound station? He’s coming in from Louisiana, and I don’t want him waiting around downtown for me. I’ll give you gas money later
.

Aw, girl, you don’t even have to worry about it. Blinky’s cool with me. I don’t mind picking him up. Save your gas money
.

That’s a true-blue friend for you
.

That’s what friends are for
.

And when Brooke began experiencing problems in her relationship, guess who she’d tell?

Loretta, I can’t tell you how sick I am of his shit. I cook for the man, wash and iron his clothes, clean the nasty-ass house, drive him here and there and take him to buy his six-pack, carton of cigarettes, and a bag of weed, and this is what he does to me?

What he do, Brooke?

Well, after a long hard day, you know me, I’m looking to get busy up under the sheets. Well, the sorry Negro can’t even get it up for me anymore. Says he’s too tired and don’t feel like doing this and that. We used to fuck every night and all of a sudden he’s sooo tired? Tired from what? He barely lets me kiss him, let alone get on top and ride him the way he likes me to ride him. He’s been spending a long time in the bathroom putting on fancy dress shirts, spraying himself with skunk-smelling cologne, and is barely home for dinner anymore. Loretta, he must got another woman. What else could it be?

Brooke, you tripping. Nobody in they right mind would want Blinky
.

They may not be in they right mind, but you better believe some women out there want my man. That’s what women do; they always want somebody else’s man and don’t care who they hurt to get the man. Sneaking conniving bitches gonna get tired of acting foul one day
.

Mmm-mmm, girl. I hear ya. That’s a damn shame
.

Even though the info was very juicy, I can’t believe my aunt was so willing to divulge all the drama that went down between Loretta, Brooke, and Blinky And once my daddy realized I knew about his history with my mama and Brooke, he tried to play it off by changing the subject so that the topic was me and Rachel. He’d say that even though those two women are catty we don’t have to be like our mothers. He’d try to make us believe that although we’re sisters, we can be each other’s best friend. Maybe he’s attempting to repair what happened between my mama and Brooke, by insisting that his daughters, the product of his affairs, experience a solid and close relationship no matter what.

But what Blinky says conflicts with the advice my mama gives. She feels it’s her motherly duty to explain how things can get between some men and women. That the storybook ending may come about through a non-storybook way. And how the best woman will always win. The best woman is the woman who ends up with the man. My mama would repeatedly pull me aside and make these statements, but she would never explain the meaning behind her words. So these days, I ignore her sometimes and listen to her at other times.

In response to Jeff’s comments that me and Rachel aren’t always on the same page, I remark, “My daddy thinks that most sisters are bound to argue once in a while. He may let us fuss here and there, but he won’t tolerate it for long. Even though I think he feels guilty about breaking up my mama
and Brooke’s friendship, he won’t let it be an excuse as far as me and Rachel goes. He used to force us to make up when we were little.”

“How’d you feel about that?” Jeff asks.

“I didn’t know any better back then.”

“And now?”

“Now I know I have a choice. But it’s all about making the right choice … for me.”

Jeff spends the next ten minutes trying to loosen me up by imitating Chris Rock. He’s really good at doing that chipmunk facial expression that Rock seems to have. I laugh hysterically and as the wetness of my tears of laughter stains my cheeks, I begin to feel much calmer and it feels great to relax.

“You hungry?” He stares at me with a hopeful grin.

“I could eat,” I say.

“Good. I’ll go fix you a plate.”

“No, it’s cool. I’m ready to go back inside and face the wolves.”

“Let’s roll.”

I am so pleased that Jeff is by my side. His kind and supportive words are my protective covering, and I mentally embrace his strength.

When we return to the house, I notice that the kitchen has emptied of the troublemakers. But I see my little cousins are chasing each other and running around in circles, screaming and laughing like they’ve lost their minds.

“Quit running before somebody gets hurt and busts their head.”

“Okay, Ms. ’Lene,” says Kiki.

“And who left the refrigerator open?”

“Braylon,” Kiki says.

“Boy, please close the refrigerator door. You’re going to make the food spoil.”

“Shut up,” yells Braylon. “If it spoils you won’t eat it all up, fatty.”

“Watch your mouth before I tell your mother.”

He quickly hushes up and presses his back against the refrigerator door so that it closes.

Jeff nods at me to follow him back outside to the jungle.

“‘The big payback.’” Both Rachel and Aunt Perry are doing the bump. They’re snapping their fingers then waving their hands to the beat of the music.

“That song is still on?” I say frowning. “Jeez, can’t ya’ll find something else to play?”

“Nope.” Perry shrugs and does some foolish dance move that causes Blinky to holler and clap his hands like he’s a little kid instead of sixty.

“You sure don’t act your age,” I say to my daddy.

“Daughter Number One, how would you know how a sixty-year-old acts, huh?”

“She doesn’t have the—” Alita, who’s positioned next to my sister, quickly clamps her hand over Rachel’s mouth. They’re standing in front of a table loaded with food. There’s crawfish, ears of corn, greens, and black-eyed peas. Racks of beef ribs and stacks of cooked hamburgers that had been smoking on a huge grill and filling up the entire yard with that delicious, smoky aroma.

Rachel leers at us the second we arrive outside. After she gives me an evil glare, her eyes get stuck on Jeff and sag at the corners. I see wetness even from where I stand. Either she’s about to cry, or the smoke from the pit is irritating her pupils.

“I don’t feel like dancing anymore,” she whines and stops dancing so she can take a seat. Alita quietly sits next to her.

“Well, we can get back to grubbing, no problem,” says Auntie Perry. She plunks down at the picnic table that’s big enough to seat twelve people.

“Oww,” Rachel cries out and vigorously rubs the corners of her eyes from all the thick smoke. She abruptly stops rubbing and gives Jeff a hurt look as if she expects him to come ease her pain, but he looks away.

“You hungry? Don’t just stand there. Fix my daughter a plate.” My mama grins at Jeff then winks at me. I wish she’d knock it off.

“Is there room at the table?” I ask.

“Nope,” says Auntie Perry.

“Yep,” says my mama. “You two look so cute together, like Janet Jackson and her cute little rapper boyfriend. I can’t remember his name, but ya’ll know who I’m talking about. Forty Cents!”