After my episode with Arielle, I punched the gas pedal, and my SUV bucked and sped down Interstate 85 South. I shook my head and weaved through the traffic like a race car driver. Minutes later I pulled to the curb of a quiet street in North Druid Hills where the homes ranged from bungalows to traditional two-stories.
I beeped my horn outside the modest white bungalow, and a six-foot, willowy young woman with jutting breasts and a bald head stepped onto the porch and waved at me. Her wide-set eyes were shaded with long, curly lashes. Her mocha skin was flawless. She took in her surroundings, and her gaze fell on something in her yard. I saw it too. She shriveled her nose, unzipped the black doggy bag holder on her key ring, removed a purple waste bag, and placed her hand inside. She stepped from her porch and marched to the offending smell, bent down, and scooped up the chunk of turd then marched next door to the modest brown bungalow. She smeared the feces on the doorknob as well as the door then dropped the purple waste bag on her neighbor’s porch and headed for my car.
My mouth was still hanging open when Shalonda, my best friend since middle school, slid next to me and slammed the door. “Close your mouth. You’ll attract flies.”
I closed my mouth and shook my head. After my SUV screeched from the curb, I asked, “What was that about?”
“I’m sick of those ghetto Section 8 assholes and their pit bull shittin’ in my yard. I told the moma about her kids lettin’ that dog shit in my yard. I gave my last warning—the third—yesterday.”
“I’m sure you’ll have their attention now.”
“Damn Skippy, Jinx. How’s tricks?”
We giggled.
“Jinx, I told Poochie to meet us at the diner.”
I frowned. Poochie was my first cousin. We’ve grown close, but that was not always the case. We’d hated each other as kids. When we were ten, Poochie and I became sworn enemies because she’d caused me bodily harm.
We were in the alley behind our grandmother’s house. I’d refused to let Poochie ride my bike. So, I took off, riding my bike at top speed. She stepped into my path, and when I made a sharp turn to avoid hitting my chubby cousin, she grabbed the handlebars on my bike. I slammed into the asphalt . It burned my skin from my leg to my ass. And I broke my left arm. Suffice it to say Grandma blistered my cousin’s ass for that.
My mom had to rub ointment on my skin every day to keep it from scarring. But I feared riding my bike and didn’t ride again for nearly a year because I was so emotionally scarred. Poochie said that was what I get for not letting her ride my bike. She later said that what she had done to me and the subsequent whooping she received was worth it. Talk about cold-blooded. Not to be outdone, I plotted my own revenge because Poochie didn’t stop there; she continuously tormented me.
One day I overheard my mom and aunt Brigitte, Poochie’s mom, talking. Apparently, my aunt’s boyfriend had broken up with her, and my mom implored Aunt Brigitte to tell Poochie the truth about her real dad. Tell Poochie, my mom said, that Victor is not your daughter’s real dad. My aunt said she was not ready to reveal that information to Poochie.
But I was.
I couldn’t wait to tell Poochie’s vindictive ass that the man she called “Daddy” wasn’t her real father. At the time, it was a Kodak moment. The look on her face was priceless. In a matter of seconds, her face transformed from disbelief to utter devastation! She was destroyed.
Of course, my mom beat my ass for revealing the secret. But that whipping was well worth seeing the look on Poochie’s face. Before my mom whipped me, she asked me why I’d inflicted such pain on my cousin. I told my mom it was for the old, the new, and for what’s to come. After suppressing what I thought was a smile, my mom took out her can of whoop-ass and used it on me. But it was worth it. Worth it to see my cousin devastated as she’d devastated me after my bicycle accident.
Now I shook my head. “Why would you call Poochie, Shalonda? You know we barely get along.”
“Look, I called her after you told me you were depressed. If anyone can snap you out of a funk, she can. Besides, y’all got closer.”
“Yes, I guess we have.”
I wheeled my SUV into the parking lot of Sampson’s Diner. Inside, the smell of hot oil, meat grilling, onions frying, and bacon grease greeted us. Cutlery clinking on tables mixed with a myriad of conversations. We walked along the long counter, occasionally brushing against the red stools spaced along it, then seated ourselves at a booth with red leather seats.
I glanced out the pollen-smudged windows and saw two uniformed cops getting out of their cruisers and heading inside. Then I spotted Poochie sailing through the door. She was sporting a cropped top and formfitting shorts. Yes, my chubby cousin now had a body to die for, and she knew it, as evidenced by her gait. She swivel-hipped herself over to us and eased into the booth, seating herself beside Shalonda.
Poochie flipped her curtain of dark hair with brown streaks and asked, “How’s tricks?”
We all giggled.
Poochie leaned in and traced the sapphires on Shalonda’s designer choker. “Girl, where’d you get this? I want one!”
“Place out of Columbus, Ohio. Called Nontle Jewelry. I’m one of Danielle’s influencers. She designed this piece for me in lieu of payment.”
“Damn! I want one.”
“Just go to her website.” Shalonda chuckled. “You always want what I have. Have you noticed that, Jinx?”
I shrugged. “What’s the big deal? A necklace’s a necklace.”
Poochie pointed an index finger at me. “See? That’s why we have to shop for you. Thank God Arielle has her own sense of fashion.”
While a waitress drawled out orders to a fry cook, Shalonda turned to me. “So, what’s got your panties in a twist?”
I cleared my throat. “I think Arielle is sexually active.”
Poochie frowned then crossed her arms. “So?”
I pulled on my ear. “S-so? So she’s only fifteen!”
Shalonda rolled her eyes. “So, put her on some birth control pills and call it a day.”
I scoffed. “That’s giving her permission to sleep with her boyfriend.”
Shalonda pointed her index finger at me. “No, sweetie. That’s telling her to be careful.”
“Yeah, but . . . at fifteen?”
“I put Amber on the shot,” Poochie said to me.
I searched my cousin’s face to see if she was kidding. She didn’t blink her hazel eyes, but her high yellow skin flushed. “I don’t believe you., Poochie. Why would you do that?” I asked accusingly.
Poochie rolled her eyes. “Don’t judge. You can’t be with ‘em twenty-four/seven. She’s doing the nasty. So what? So was I at that age. “She shook her head. “But I’m not about to become a grandma in my thirties.”
“Birth control? Really? Your daughter’s thirteen!” I said to her.
Shalonda scrunched her shoulders up. “You had Arielle at eighteen, Jinx.”
“Exactly.” I leaned across the table. “So, why in the hell would I want that for Arielle? I had it hard raising her by myself.”
Shalonda cleared her throat. “Didn’t you get a lot of child support back then?”
“Yeah, Vince provided a bunch of child support, but he jetted off to Los Angeles to play for the Clippers after the divorce. It was hard for me to finish college while raising Arielle. She was precocious at four years old.”
Poochie shrugged. “What’s wrong with a nanny?”
“Couldn’t have a stranger raising my child, and my mom was still working for the post office while I was in college.”
Shalonda scoffed. “How could college have been so hard for you? Wasn’t like you had a hard major.”
Poochie chuckled. “Underwater basket weaving can’t be that hard.”
“I majored in English!”
Poochie rolled her eyes. “Like I said—can’t be that hard.”
“Not telling my daughter it’s okay to—”
Shalonda wagged the blood-red talon of her index finger at me. “Will you listen to yourself? I’m not sayin’ you want Arielle runnin’ ‘round screwin anything that moves. I’m sayin’ nip it in the bud now. She’s fuckin’. So what? All the kids are doin’ it. Give her some protection. From pregnancy and disease. Put her on the pill—better yet the shot, and buy her some condoms. She’s doubly protected. If it were my daughter, that’s what I’d do.”
“I don’t want her screwing this early,” I shot back.
“May I take your order?” The server who’d sidled up to our table startled me. She was hard-looking, silver-haired, and big-boned. A gold tooth completed the hardened look. We ordered then returned to our conversation.
“Jinx, you may not want her screwin’ this early, but that’s what she’s doin’. Get over it. How old were you when you started?” Poochie asked.
“Eighteen.”
Shalonda scoffed. “Liar. You had her at eighteen. Remember?”
“Okay. Seventeen. But I was a senior in high school.”
Shalonda pursed her lips. “Times have changed, sista girl. You need to get with it. Or you’ll become a grandma at thirty-three, thirty-four.”
Images of Arielle holding an infant played in my head. I recoiled. “Shit. That’s never gonna happen.”
“Now, let’s change the subject. Are you fuckin’ anybody?” Poochie asked me.
I shook my head. “I’m swearing off men for a while.”
Shalonda narrowed her eyes. “What? You tryin’ Ellen or something? Queen Latifah?”
I scoffed. “No, girl.”
Shalonda chuckled. “Okay. I’m glad you’re still strictly dickly.”
“What about you? You still with ol’ boy?” I asked Shalonda.
“Hell, naw. You know what he did? He had the nerve to get mad ’cause I was datin’ somebody else. Yeah. After he fucked me the first time, he told me he had a girlfriend. And I was really digging him. He told me I could accept it or bounce. So I stuck around because the sex was good, but I was constantly auditioning others. Oh, and I forgot to tell you ’bout the time he asked me if I would mind having a threesome.”
I took a sip of my water. “What’d you say?”
“I asked how fine will the man be.”
Poochie and I guffawed, then I choked on my water. It dribbled down my chin, and I mopped it up with my napkin. “That’s telling him.”
“Damn Skippy. Anyway, he found out I was doing somebody else.”
I smirked. “And?”
“He got pissed because he became one in my newly formed three-man rotation. I dropped him down to just Wednesday nights. What I didn’t know was one of the other guys that I was fuckin’ was his cousin!”
My eyes popped out. “Girl, stop! For real?”
“For real. He came up to me and said, ‘Are you shittin’ me?’ I said, ‘No, Paul, I wouldn’t shit you. You my favorite turd.’”
We squealed with laughter.
“Hmm,” Poochie said. “Y’all doing it all wrong.”
“Not everyone can fuck ballers like you, Poochie,” Shalonda said.
Poochie scoffed. “I don’t fuck ’em. I bang my ex before I go out on dates with them. That way I’m not horny. I have my own three-man rotation. Two men I don’t screw, and my ex boyfriend that I do. It works. Right now, Ralph is ready to propose.”
Shalonda eyed Poochie. “You gon’ marry him? Without test drivin’ the dick?”
“Who’s Ralph?” I asked.
“He’s the tight end for the Falcons.”
“Stop it,” I said incredulously. “You already have a baby by a former Indiana Pacers player. You plan to hit the lottery again? Damn, you scandalous.” Then I thought about Vince, Arielle’s father. He was the backup point guard for the Atlanta Hawks while we were married. After the divorce, he signed with the Los Angeles Clippers, and he barely saw Arielle. After he retired, visitation became more frequent. I made a mental note to call and talk to him about our daughter and Conner.
Poochie shook her head. “No, just practical. I screw for the long term. Back then Jeffrey was cheating on his wife with me. He figured it was cheaper to keep her instead of marrying pregnant me. I have no intention of getting my heart broken again. Hence, me bangin’ my high school boyfriend before I go out on dates. When Ralph proposes, I’ll accept.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How you know he’s going to?”
Poochie shrugged. “I met his folks. And a few days ago, he was sizing up my ring finger.”
Shalonda and I eyed each other. Then Shalonda asked, “You don’t believe in marrying for love?”
“Not anymore,” Poochie said. “I believe in marrying for security. If I happen to fall in love with Ralph after we’re married, then that’s gravy.”
Shalonda sipped her water then said, “Hell, I need to take lessons from you. I fuck all my dates and not one of ’em has proposed.”
“Why should they when they’re getting the nookie for free?” Poochie said. “If you want more advice, it’s gonna cost ya.”
We giggled.
“Excuse me, ladies, I couldn’t help but notice that you’re enjoyin’ yourselves. May I join you?”
It was one of the cops looming over us. His cap was off, displaying a faded haircut. He was of average height, but he was fine. Shalonda batted her eyelashes and said, “Please join us.”
He slid beside me and gazed into Shalonda’s piercing brown eyes. Right then and there I could tell she had him. “Lady, I’ve never seen a bald woman as fine as you.”
“And I’ve never been interested in a man shorter than me.”
He shrugged. “Once you had me, you’ll never call me short again.”
We all chuckled.
The waitress arrived with our order. She set down a plate of grilled cheese and fries in front of Shalonda and a cheeseburger and fries in front of me. She placed the Cobb salad in front of Poochie then turned her attention to the cop. “Sir, would you like me to bring your order over here when it comes out?”
“Yes.”
The cop introduced himself as Officer Adrian Jackson, also known as Action Jackson. I was still working on my juicy burger and had all but finished my salty-tasting fries when Shalonda finished her meal.
Adrian said, “Damn, baby, where does it all go?”
“Straight to my boobs, of course,” Shalonda said. We all laughed. Then Adrian summoned his partner over and introduced him. We were there for twenty more minutes before I drove Shalonda home.
But images of my daughter having sex with her boyfriend invaded my thoughts. Shalonda was right. Time to get her on some birth control.
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